The Last Fire Drill

In a comment posted to one of my Blogs, a friend said that I should write some Kagnew Station stories in my blog. I feel that most of the stories that I tell about Kagnew Station, Eritrea, Ethiopia, East Africa are a little too obscene for this blog. Most of them cannot be toned down without losing the true essence of the story.

While looking through my files I found a story, written in 1999, that I could post to this blog. But before I post the story I must first give you some background information.

Artwork by Roxie HowardKagnew Station was a communications monitoring post located in Asmara, Eritrea (8200 feet above sea level). It reached its peak (no pun intended) in the late 1960’s and its closing began in 1973 with the withdrawal of the largest unit stationed there; The Army Security Agency. I had the good fortune of being there during the prime years (1966-1969). Subsequently I am the antagonist in a chapter of Michela Wrong’s non fiction book about Eritrea.

All that being said, here is a homogenized story about life at Kagnew Station in the late 1960’s. This is for you Pal Val.

It was the summer (rainy season) of 1968. Company "A" had just gotten a new Company Commander (LBJ – a sobriquet given to him because of his physique). I was on "A" trick, sharing a two-man room on the second floor with Little Willie. We were working Eves on the next to last day of the cycle. That night, after work, knowing we only had just one shift to go before our 48-hour break, we did what came natural; went downtown to savor some of the local nightlife.

At the ungodly hour of 0645 the Company fire alarm went off. I, as well as others, thought that this must be the real thing. Usually in the past we had always been warned of upcoming Fire Drills. Most of the guys would shack up downtown to avoid participation.

Grabbing what we could to cover ourselves, we headed for safety in the street in front of the barracks (I wish I had a picture of this). Guys came out of the barracks in sheets, in blankets, in under shorts and some with towels wrapped around their waist.

The alarms and noise in the street had also awakened the dependants living in the family housing across the street from A Company. As we gathered, they gathered, waiting for the Fire Trucks to arrive.

Out of the building comes the new CO. He sarcastically congratulates us on our ability to vacate premises in orderly fashion. Boos and hisses followed. Most of "A" Trick dropped their cover, walking naked back to the barracks and bed. The dependants living across the street were appalled at sight of us being au natural. Some of the guys even waved the distinguishing mark of their sex at the dependants. The families complained to the Post Commander. From that day until the day I left Kagnew that October, we didn't have another fire drill.

The Beach Bum