Fox Harbour, Labrador

In January of 1958 I was living in Harlingen, Texas (south Texas) when I enlisted in the United States Air Force. This was two months after my 17th birthday. After four months of basic military training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, I was assigned to Scott AFB in Illinois to go through a five month Radio Relay Repairman School. Upon graduation my entire class received orders for assignment to Newfoundland.

October 13, 1958 - With some military leave in between basic training, school, and reporting to my Newfoundland assignment, I found myself in St. John's, Newfoundland, an island off of Nova Scotia and Quebec, Canada. My classmates and I spent about three weeks enjoying the sights and hospitality of St. John's.

One day the 1st Sgt. of our squadron, the 1876th Radio Relay Squadron called a meeting and started handing out assignments to various radar sites throughout Newfoundland. He said we could pair up if we had a buddy and wanted to stay together. My buddies, Charles Hopson, Albert Jackman, and I (all A/2C by now), picked a place called Fox Harbour in Labrador, which is located on the east coast of Canada.

We were sent to Goose Bay Labrador and there we waited for helicopter transportation to Fox Harbour, 180 miles away. The snow held us up for a few days, but we finally we able to take off. We didn't get very far before we had to divert the flight to Cartwright Radar site. I had my 18th birthday November 14th at Cartwright. We were snowed in for four days; then we made it on to Fox Harbour on the 18th of November 1958. We no sooner arrived than the airmen took up a collection to send money back with the helicopter pilots to buy candy and small toys for the kids in the village for a Christmas party. Our intentions were noble, but the weather did not cooperate. After the helicopter left, the weather was so bad either at Goose Bay or Fox Harbour our Christmas bounty didn't arrive until the 2nd of January, 1959. I don't remember what we did for the kids at Christmas, but it wasn't what we had planned. We held onto the bounty until Valentine's Day when we celebrated down on the frozen harbour and the villagers had a dog sled race. I only remember the names of three people - two girls that I think were cousins - Ruby and Elsey; and a girl named Lydia Poole. I was the youngest Yank on the hill, so I got to know all three girls. They were only between the ages of 14 and 17. We had fun watching the movies at the site and sledding down the road to the beach (frozen harbour).

The Air Force bought us one of the large fishing boats (like all the villagers owned) so we could go out into the bay. I remember once when we went across to Mary's Harbour to go fishing. We had run out of artificial lures before the trip; so we took teaspoons from our chow hall, cut the handles off, and soldered hooks on them. We caught lots of fish that day; but the mosquitoes made us pay with our blood. We had blood spots on our white t-shirts; and before we knew it, the swarm was so bad we had to put on our parkas and zip them up so that all we had was a fur hole to see out of... but the fur filtered the mosquitoes out so we could breathe.

Prior to the fishing excursion, when we first arrived at Mary's Harbour, we walked around the village and saw the nursing station. We noticed the small 100 foot (3 meter) poles around the village providing electricity to the various houses. We were surprised that they had electricity.

On another trip across the bay we went to Battle Harbour. We saw the RCMP Office (the Mountie was out), the fish drying racks, and visited the General Store. Although we made these trips, we could always look over our shoulders and see the radar site.

Charles Hopson and I "volunteered" to run the movie projector for all occasions. The Air Force made sure we were well stocked with movies; so we would pick out movies suitable for the village kids to watch, and would show them on Saturday mornings in the motor pool garage. I remember we cut cartoons off a lot of the movie reels and spliced them into one big reel so the kids got to see a lot of cartoons - one right after the other. I look back now and know that those kids probably never forgot those Saturday mornings.

The way I remember it, we (the radar site), had open house for the villagers on Friday and Saturday nights. This allowed the adults of the village to see a movie and have a soda pop or beer. A lot of times one or two of the villagers would bring up smoked salmon for everyone to enjoy. I still love smoked salmon and the memories it brings back.

Sometimes - either spring or summer, the USAF sent a small band out to entertain us. It seems they stayed a couple of days. The villagers were invited to hear them too.

Our support helicopters were on a once a week basis. Tuesday was our day. If the weather was bade, we missed that week. There was one day the fog set in while the helicopter was on the way and the pilot got lost. They passed over us and landed on the beach across the bay somewhere close to Mary's Harbour. They spent the night on the beach because they didn't have enough fuel to fly across the bay. The next day they had to wait for another chopper to fly in from Goose Bay and pick up a barrel of fuel from our site and a hand pump and fly it across to them. Then they both flew back to our site, and then returned to Goose Bay.

If memory serves me correctly, the site was manned by the following USAF personnel:

The site was also manned by the following civilian personnel:

In the winter of 1958-1959 we had a shortage of water. Most of the water in our small reservoir had turned to ice; so we were rationed to one or two showers a week. Well - come April or May, I had my eye on a small ppool of water just northeast of the site. Every day or so I'd walk over to it and test the temperature of the water. Finally, I could stand it no longer. The sun was shining, it seemed warm enough; so I stripped down to nothing, backed up; and did a running shallow dive into the pool. The water so cold, I almost went into shock.

In July of 1959, our Captain decided to go fishing with some of us. We went a short distance from the harbour to a small stream that ran into the bay. We took some beer and decided to put it in the stream to keep it cold. After fishing for a while, someone wanted a cold beer. When we got the beer out of the stream, it had been lying in the water in the sunshine and the sun had warmed it up instead of the water cooling it down. Later that day, on our way back to the site, we were warm enough that we decided to go swimming. My earlier skinny dipping adventure did not keep me from jumping off the boat and maneuvering around it. The water was cold, but all of a sudden, I found a warm spot. I stayed in that spot and some of the guys (including my Captain) were asking me how the water was. I told them it was fine. After some of them jumped in and started yelling about the cold water, I said "you've just got to find a warm spot". I got a good laugh that day. Now that I look back at this event, I guess some of the water from the stream we had our beer in had created a warm current in the bay, and I was lucky enough to find it.

We bought a new anchor for our biggest fishing boat, complete with a new rope. Our motor pool Mechanic, Sgt. Bigelow, was going to tune up the one cylinder engine on the boat and put the new anchor on it. Our medic went with him just to get out for a while. When they got on the boat, they just placed the new rope and anchor (not attached) in the bow of the boat and proceeded with the tune up. After putting in a new spark plug and points, they did a test ride across the harbour. As they approached one of the fishing docks, Sgt. Bigelow killed the engine and then tried to get it back on in reverse to slow them down. The engine failed to start; so Sgt. Bigelow yellwed to the medic, who was in the bow of the boat, to drop the anchor. The medic picked up the new anchor, which was not tied to the rope and said, "It's not tied on!". Bigelow said "throw it in anyway. It might slow us down". Yep - there went our new shiny anchor in about 30 feet of water. Yep - they hit the deck; but no damage was done to it or our boat - just their pride. This story was told to us by the participants. I think they were pointing the finger at one another.

We could only pick up one AM radio station on our entertainment center radio/record player. I remember in January of 1959 listening about Fidel Castro ousting the dictator of Cuba. Everyone was excited about that. Little did we know how it was going to turn out.

We also had a shortwave radio down the road toward the copter pad, in what was our "disater shack" - where, if our main building burned to the ground, we could survive until help arrived. The shortwave radio had a long wire antenna between two tall poles and it could pick up radio stations from the USA. The audio from the receiver was wired to the main building's intercom system, and there were speakers in everyone's room so we could hear music and news if we could tune it in. The radioman on duty was responsible for keeping the radio on frequency. This meant walking down to the "shack" a few times during a work shift in all kinds of weather. Also, our Captain Neuendorf was an amateur radio operator. K8ECB/V02 was his call sign. We (the Captain, Charles and I), spent as lot of time on the "ham" radio talking to various others in the USA. Of course, we had access to a USAF telephone some of the time; and could make calls back to families; but they were collect calls. If the villagers had an emergency, it was arranged that they could use our telephone, since telephones were not available to them.

I was assigned the task of refueling the helicopters that landed on the site. I would go to the helipad in the mornings one was due in. I would have to locate a barrel of fuel in the ditch around the pad and dig it out of the snow.I'd dig down to it and then hook onto it with a special chain that had barrel clamps that attached to the rim on the ends of the barrels. I normally used the Captain's Jeep to pull the barrels out and onto the pad. Well, this particular day, as I backed the Jeep up with the chains attached to the a barrel, the Jeep's tires began to spin on the 3 or 4 inch thick ice; and formed grooves in the ice. Then - the Jeep just sat there, bouncing up and down; but not backwards; and I couldn't even go forward. There I was, stuck on a perfectly flat surface. I had no choice but to walk back to the main buildings, go to the Captain, and get permission to take our weapons carrier (next size up from the Jeep) down to the copter pad and pull his Jeep out of the grooves. My thought was that I'd just leave the barrel hooked up to the Jeep and pull them both at the same time. So - I hooked up to the Jeep and backed up.. then the same thing happened. The larger truck did the same thing! Here I go back to the Captain's office to ask for (and got) permission to take our BIG truck (6X=six by). Yep - I stuck it too. This time the Captain made our mechanic take our Scowcat and me down to the pad and we got everything pulled out and back on the road. Believe it or not, I did get the helicopter refueled that day.

Some of us made some makeshift toboggans so we could sled down the road to the beach. We did this quite often on moonlit nights. Someone would drive one of our trucks down the road and pick us up and take us back up the hill; and we'd do it again. One sunny day I decided to have a go down the hill on my toboggan. I was on the longest stretch nearing the sharp turn at the bottom of the hill when I heard some of the village kids laughing and talking. I normally took that turn sliding sideways. I knew that I'd probably break someone's legs if I made the turn; so I just held on and went straight off the road. I went airborne and fell 20 or 30 feet, landing in a deep snowdrift at beach level. After pulling myself out of the snow, I looked up at the ridge I had just left; and some kids were saying, "Do that again!". I did not do it again.

Winter time - the northern lights begand to glow and trail out across the night sky. The crunching of snow under my feet was all I could hear as I marveled at the beauty of the sight. What did I think of the northern lights? I can sum that up in two words: mysterious and beautiful.

Regarding storms, etc. - other than the one really bad storm that had a 120 miles and hour wind, about 18 inches of ice on everything, and minus 24 degrees F, I remember seeing the ocean completely covered with ice, and a very large iceberg that was east of us for days. It was stuck out there.

Some of the villagers may remember a flying boat (PBY) that landed in the harbour the summer of 1959. It was time for some of the equipment to be overhauled and calibrated; so they sent in a special team of technicians (civilians) to get it done. While they were working in my area I noticed they had a small bottle of liquid that was used for cleaning some delicate parts. I also noticed that they used long cotton tips to apply it. So.. one night while I was on duty, I decided to clean my little Brownee Hawkeye camera. The camera was made out of some kind of plastic and was light green in color; but was getting dirty. When I applied the magical liquid to my camera it began to look as good as new - for a few minutes. All of a sudden, it started melting. I was using some type of acid and didn't know it. Yep - so much for my little Brownee Hawkeye. I threw that camera away real quick.

One day I bought a sea otter hide that had been tanned from a villager. I thought that if I could get another hide I could make a pair of mukaluxs? muckalucks? mucaluks? snowboots. Anyway - I was in my living quarters when I stuck my foot in the hide and pulled it up my leg as far as it would go. It looked pretty neat; but - when I tried pulling it off my leg, it turned into a Chinese finger trap. It wouldn't come off. It wouldn't budge. I hopped out of my room on my otterless leg and down the hall to Charles Hopson's room to get him to help me. At first glance, Hopson thought something had attacked my leg and wouldn't let go. After struggling a while, we managed to get it off my leg. Nope.. I never got the second one.

Sometime during the summer of 1959, our supply ship was to come with our year's worth of goods. The US Navy sent a team of explosive experts to check the harbour and beach area so the landing crafts would be safe coming in from the ship which had to stay out in the bay because it was so big. The "team of experts" decided they needed to blow a hole on the beach. When they set off the explosion it broke all of the glass panes in the windows of the houses of the village. The Navy must have had a lot of experience doing this because they brought along a legal officer to pay each villager in cash for damages done.

That hole the Navy blew on the beach caused me some personal embarrassment. I used to visit each fishing dock every Monday morning to see if they had any salmon that I could buy. We used to freeze them and ship them to the Officer's Club back at Goose Bay. Well - one day Lydia Poole and either Ruby or Elsey were rowing a dingy across the harbour and I was in our little boat that had the small outboard motor; and I was circling them and showing off. My motor quit. I ended up drifting to shore and started pulling the boat toward the dock. I was in the water about knee deep. By now, the girls were rowing along just off shore teasing me. You probably guess it - yep - I stepped into that darned hole. The girls got a big laugh out of that and I ended up all wet.

Summer of 1959 - The supply ship (the one they dug the hole on the beach for) arrived in the bay. I look back now and I think about the reason we worked around the clock. We had to help unload the supplies and new vehicles because the Navy was watching the tide. Bo one stopped until the job was finished.

We had a civilian contractor fly in by bush plane (bush pilot). He was working on a pipeline down the northside of the hill to a lake. This was for water for the site so we wouldn't run out during the next winter. I had been helping him a few days by driving bolt anchors into concrete using a .22 cal ram set gun. This tool used .22 cal. blanks of various strengths. I loaded my .22 and went back to the radar twoer's back door. As I entered the tower, Hopson also entered from the main building through the door that had been hooked up our radio failure alarm bell so that as long as the door was open, the bell would ring. Hopson had a cup of coffee in one hand and pushed the door behind him to shut it - but it didn't shut and the bell was ringing. I shouted at him to shut the @#$%^&* door. He turned around real easy like, so as to not spill his coffee, and shut the door. As he turned back around to face me, I had my .22 pointed at him and I pulled the trigger. Needless to say, it sounded like a cannon in that metal room. Hopson yelled like he'd been shot and threw his coffee and the cup against the back of our radio equipment. Our Sgt. had seen me shoot, but could only hear Hopson. The Sgt. just stood there - frozen - with his hands down at his side - waiting to be shot. I started laughing and Hopson started cursing at me!. The Sgt. was so happy that I hadn't gone crazy and killed them both, I didn't even get in trouble over this prank. The Sgt. did later remark that he just knew I had "flipped out" and that after hearing Hopson make so much noise, he just knew he was next.

I remember one of the stores in Fox Harbour was like walking into what I pictured in my mind as being a Hudson's Bay Trading Post. I bought a wedge of cheddar cheese and a bottle of "tonic wine" because they sure made the walk back up the hill more tolerable!. There were animal traps, snow shoes, ropes and fishing nets, etc. hanging from walls and rafters, large wooden barrels sitting around (I think with pickles or something.. maybe meats in salt brine - I'm not sure - it's been a long time). I had seen Trading Posts in the movies on on the TV show, "Sgt. Preston of the Yukon and his dog, King".

I also remember going to a dance (I believe it was held in the schoolhouse). I was amazed at how much music could be made with a squeeze box (concertina) and a fiddle; and how happy the villagers were and what a good time they were having. At that time, I thought, "These people have so little.. no roads, cars, running water,indoor plumbing, electricity, TV, big stores; but they don't seem to care. This is what they're used to. They can't miss what they've never had"

One day there was a huge iceberg that floated into the bay. The villagers jumped into their boats and went out to get ice from it. (After all, it was summer time!)

The Mountie visited our site a few times. The first time I saw him in his red coat, Mountie style hat, and blue pants, I thought he was the ideal Mountie and they all probably looked like him. He was very impressive.. he even had a dog, just like Sgt. Preston of the Yukon.

I went out to the coastal ship (Burego ?) with the Poole family once and took some 8mm movies. I wish I had taken my regular 35mm camera, but I didn't.

I remember feeling sort of stupid walking down to the village in the winter, wearing all of our Air Force Arctic clothes and the villagers were wearing denim jackets and pants.

I've just been reminded by Charles Hopson, who has read my second draft of these memories, that the dance I referred to was a "Pie Supper" to raise funds for the school. The men would bid to buy a pie that one of the women had baked and then they ate the pie together.

I remember one day I went down to the village and took my 8mm camera with me. One of the events I filmed was at the Poole family's dock. Lydia Poole and another girl (I believe she was Lydia's sister) were unloading their father's fishing boat that had a sizeable catch of cod fish. The girls were using pitch forks to throw the fish up on the dock. Then, they proceeded to cut the throats, break off the heads, and slice the bellies to gut them. I noticed a small hole in the processing table and a bucket underneath the hole. Each girl was sorting something out of the guts of the fish and sliding it to and through the hole to the bucket. After filming this process I asked what was in the bucket. I was told they were cod livers. They showed me around the room where all the fillted cod were stacked in layers and salted down for preservation, and then to a large barrel where they dumped the cod livers. They said the livers were sold along with the fish and were processed into cod livel oil. I made an instant decision that I would never take cod liver oil or make my children take it either!

I recall being down at Lydia Poole's home, sitting in front of a wood burning stove, listening to Kitty Wells music on her family's radio and hearing personal messages being broadcast to all villages at a certain time in the evenings. The messages consisted of arrival times that someone would be getting back to their village on the coastal ferry, birth announcements, deaths or illnesses, etc. I can still hear the station's call sign - "C J O N" St. John's, Newfoundland.

Well, that's the way I remember Fox Harbour. I was there from the 18th of November 1958 until about the 10th of October 1959. Hopson, Jackman, and I left for Goose Bay and we arrived back in the USA on the 12th of October 1959. These events may not be in chronological order, but I wrote them down as one event brought memories of another. Others may dispute my recollections; but - as the old saying goes.. this is my story and I'm sticking to it.