5/25/2022

Hadji 1974

Hello folks, this is an adaptation from the original manuscript of my novel. I invite criticism and suggestions and if you are new to this column, you will probably want to go to refer to earlier blogs for the back story and the direction we are loosely following. As always, comments and feedback will help me in determining subjects that are of the most interest to the group or individually.

I arrived in Turkey, Feb 14, 1974. Incirlik AFB was under the command of the Turkish Armed Forces and there were eight to ten military units training at the base, along with the USAF. Having the largest, best equipped, and trained military units on the base, the US contingent utilized most of the base facilities and had invested in the expansion of the base and its constantly changing mission, which was to provide an umbrella of protection for our allies in the region. This was my first overseas assignment and my first trip outside the United States, unless I count the few trips I made to Canada while I was stationed at McChord AFB in Washington. As soon as I got off the plane in Turkey, I realized that nothing had prepared me for the experience of being in a place that was so different from home. The sun was shining brightly, and the heat was suffocating as we carried our gear to the busses parked in a line, each marked with the different squadrons that made up the US Command. I could see the different military units as we made our way from the tarmac and headed to the barracks. The 39^th Air Base Wing covered over 3300 acres and was controlled by the U S Air Forces in Europe – Air Forces Command. It was Thursday and with Monday being President’s Day, I was only able to check in at the barracks and get my room assignment. Orientation would start on Tuesday. I changed into civvies right after lunch and made my way to the front gate and got in line with those exiting the base. I fell in with a group of airmen who seemed to know where they were headed but lost them as I stared at the shops and street vendors. The stench of raw sewage flowing in the streets competed with the odor of meats and vegetables cooking on makeshift grills and customers haggled with merchants, over the price of fabrics, jewels, and other handmade goods. The streets were a maze of dead ends and alleys that changed direction with no rhyme or reason, and I quickly became lost.The sun was beginning to descend, and I searched the crowd for fellow Americans as I made my way in the general direction of the base. At least I hoped I was headed in the right direction. There were few signs written in English and panic was beginning to set in. A kid ran up to me and in broken Englishasked, “Would hadji like of some hashish?” Hashish was supposed to be a stronger version of marijuana according to my research and as he reached into an inner pocket, I nodded my head when he pulled out a packet and yelled, “Five dolla, five dolla”. Thinking this must be a common transaction, I pulled a five from my wallet and grabbed the package from him, as he took the money. We went in separate directions, and I spied a group of airmen and followed behind them, close enough to pick up their conversation and find that they were on the way to the entrance gate. After a brief ID check, I was back on the base and in the barracks. My roommates were both on leave and I had the place to myself until one of them returned on Tuesday. I stashed my package and headed to the chow hall for dinner. I couldn’t believe I had scored so easily and for such a low price. I went through the line and recognizing a few faces from the dorm, I asked if I could join their table. They asked the usual questions and made me feel welcome. The talk shifted to a camping trip that was going to take place over the upcoming three-day holiday. The group had rented a bus and driver, and there was going to be plenty of food and adult beverages available. Having been in the Air Force over three years, I knew there would be a few guys that smoked weed so this would be the perfect opportunity to introduce myself and impress them by how quickly I had found the local hashish. Maybe I should have gotten a way to connect with the little street urchin? That thought led to wondering if I might have been suckered, and I decided to try out my new purchase. I went to my room and pulled out the small package and opened it carefully. Inside the paper wrapper was a lime-green and brown, block. Slightly wider than a playing card and about ¼ of the thickness of a deck of cards, it was covered with a thin layer of powder, which I assumed was the result of it being handled. I emptied half of a Kool cigarette onto a sheet of paper without breaking the tube and crumbled a small bit of the hashish into it and repacked thecigarette. I found a spot nearby that gave me a view of all the area around me while shielding me from detection. I took three or four pulls on the loaded cigarette, holding the smoke in as long as I could before exhaling. I didn’t feel much but as I headed towards the NCO Club, I thought it might be the combination of jet lag, new surroundings, and my inexperiencewith hashish that was preventing me from getting the full effect.

I drank two drafts and two shots while listening to a horrible country/western band and left at the start of a belly-dancing exhibition that featured a group of participants who all wore too much make-up and had too much belly to pique my interest. I went to my room and drifted off to sleep thinking about the weekend trip and rehashing the day. I couldn’t believe I had the nerve to buy drugs before knowing how things worked. There might have been dogs or some other method of combating the challenge of keeping contraband that I was unaware of. The alcohol did its job and I slept until my inner alarm triggered and I began my second day in country. At the end of the day, my brain and my rear were numb from briefings by monotone speakers with useless facts and hard wooden chairs that grew more uncomfortable as the day passed. I was relieved to find out that orientation ended with lunch and after a quick meal, I headed to the base commissary to get some things for the campout. We gathered for a last count, in front of a dilapidated and rusted bus that had seen better days. The driver looked even worse in his rumpled and stained clothes, and wearing sandals fashioned from old tires. His bearded face was marked with scars and the few teeth he had remaining, were yellowed and sat in blackened gums. We loaded quickly and the bus started with a loud bang and clouds of smoke, before lurching onto the road. As we picked up speed, I feared that between the rugged road surface and the bald tires on the bus, we might not make our destination. I had no idea where we were, how far it was to our campsite, and what the next three days were going to look like, camping in a foreign country, with a bunch of strangers. The bus was too noisy for meaningful conversation, and now the weather started to turn ugly. I could see we were on a road that turned and twisted to follow the coast. We were inching closer to the water and dark clouds headed towards the same beach. We won the race to the campsite and began setting up tents and lighting campfires. In thirty minutes, the smell of roasting hot dogs and burgers, and the sounds of a variety of music, blasted from the tents. The music reminded me that I was the only person of color on the trip, but that was becoming the norm, as I saw with my missile shop. I was sharing the tent with two guys, and we were beating the last of the stakes into the ground and throwing our belongings inside. The winds had increased, and the surf began to crash again man made levees. Thunder roared and lightning lit up the skies as the storm continued to race inland.

Then, all hell broke loose!

Next week we will be in Vegas or Turkey or none of the above. See you there.

Hadji