Dad Story

One I just learned of this week ... RADAR (WWII)

He did not belong in the Navy, but then no one did, if war is viewed as a worthless flexing of political vanity. This high desert boy was comfortable on drifting sands and purpled outcroppings – never on trackless waves and flotsam of deaths laughter. He could not even swim well, as his striding land legs were too muscular to easily float at command. But there is no military post for those who dance with cloudless skies and life in defiance of meager rain – so wisdom placed him in the Navy, and they were better for it, as you will see.

His math skills placed him at a radar consol, though his marksmanship placed him on the forward deck – a conflict for which officers have no answer, nor knowing they may be the same. Un-measurable, and therefore unknown, were his skills with range and medes and bounds – natural perhaps, but focused by the survey of the land that spawned him. A radar scope is nothing but a transit with a different eye – one tuned to hidden waves rather than those of the burning sun. The fact that his target ranging was beyond accurate became a joke, for ‘tis easier to laugh than challenge the standards of training, which often call for minimum rather than maximum acuity.

Side bar: I have seen my Father fire a 30-06 standing in rapid fire at 800 yards and beat competitors with scopes. I have followed my Father across the Nevada ridges – pacing through copes and rills and washes and pinnacles for a quarter mile, to land within six feet of an etched monument unseen. I have seen a man who could run a hundred yards through Sage Brush and not leave a foot print. I have known a man …

Nothing special – this boy simple took multiple reads and triangulated by reverse- azimuth and other arcane arts, rather than seeking a quiet task or “won’t happen on my shift” attitude. Boredom rather than call to excellence drove this call, though perhaps they are more kin than we would admit. And then the Admiral came on board … and heard of this man’s unusual skill.

Close ship maneuvers in a safe harbor allowed all radar men to test their skills, with actual distances checked by other means; but the Admiral asked, “what is the distance to that castle shape upon the hill?” Three men spun dials to the task, with answers slow and fast that could spell failure upon the future seas. “Seaman,” he said. “You call out range with such confidence – but how would we know if your estimate is true?

Said my father, “You could always pace off the distance to be sure.”

This might have been considered disrespectful,
had not the Admiral laughed,
also a son of the desert perhaps,
or afraid of the swirling sea.