STORY BEHIND THE PLAQUE
Service Reflections of SMSgt Dale L. Durnell, U.S. Air Force (1964-1991)

I graduated from high school when I was 17, and when I started Junior College, I was still 17. Just before my 18th birthday, dad asked what I was going to do in the spring, and I told him I sure wasn’t going back to college and that I was going to apply for a job with one of the many aerospace companies in the area (Rocketdyne, Thompson-Ramo-Wooldridge, Lockheed, et al). Dad then said that no one was going to hire an 18-year-old, with the draft hanging over his head (there was no lottery in late 1963, and I’d never even heard of Vietnam), and I had no college deferment. He said I ought to just enlist, get my military service out of the way, and learn a skill.

Not long after that, my brothers and I were talking about the military, and I was “elected” to be the one who would go talk to the Army recruiter. When I got to the recruiting office, the Army rep was busy (in retrospect, that turned out to be rather fortuitous). The Air Force recruiter came out in the hall and asked if he could help. And the rest, as they say, is history. My brothers and I, all three, enlisted the day before President Johnson signed the Gulf of Tonkin resolution.

To paraphrase the Code of Conduct, “I am an American fighting man, as was my father, and his father before him.”

I started as an Air Policeman (we weren’t Security Police yet). That wasn’t the career field I wanted, but the other career fields I qualified for were full. At first, I worked in security on the flight line, the alert barn, and the bomb dump. When there was an opening, I moved over to Law Enforcement and worked patrol and guard duty at various posts.

After more than a year as a cop, I changed career fields and became an Administration Specialist. At first, I worked in the squadron’s orderly room and training section in my old (then) Security Police Squadron.

Upon my return to the States, I was assigned to the Message Distribution Center under the Director of Administration. A year later, I was back on the Pacific Rim in the Republic of (South) Vietnam, and they just put me straight into the job I had stateside: in the Message Distribution Center.

After ‘Nam, I was assigned as the office administrator in an FM/FM and PCM Satellite Telemetry Ground Station. For about the last year in California, I was part of the same squadron, working in the Administration Center. I was in the Space Force before there ever was a separate branch of service.

When I moved from California to New Mexico, I was assigned to the War and Emergency Plans Office. Eventually, I found the guys in the Command Post were having more fun implementing the plans I helped write than I had writing them.

For the last 15 years of my 27-year career, I moved over into the Command and Control career field. First at Kirtland with Air Force Systems Command, and then when MAC took over ownership of the base, we fell under 22AF. I left New Mexico for a year in Korea in the Wing Command Post, and a year later, I was working in the Central Region Operations Center for Allied Forces Central Europe. They were expecting a TSgt, but the announcement that I was an MSgt selectee was waiting for me when I arrived. It was a great assignment, working with military forces from multiple nations and services, and I made SMSgt while I was there.

When I returned to the States, I worked for a wonderful Command Post chief who gave me the job description of Chief of Command and Control. I was there for about two years when I started getting calls from AFMPC asking if I wanted to go to Turkey (no, thank you) or Japan (sorry, I’m not fluent), so I volunteered to return to Europe. We spent 4 1/2 years in Germany, where I was Command Post Superintendent and the wing’s focal person for the new Wing Command and Control System (WCCS). Finally, it came time to return to the States. At the same time, I was told that there was going to be a drawdown on our nation’s military forces. The entire E8 force that was in the 1964 and 1965 year groups of enlistees would have their high year of tenure capped in 1991. And, if I were not selected for Chief, I would have to retire at 27 years (rather than 28, as I had planned).

So, I came to Oklahoma knowing that I only had one year ahead in this assignment. If I were promoted, I would have to move because they had no job for a Chief at Tinker. If I were not on the promotion list, I would have to retire. The promotion list came out, and for the third year in a row, I (me, and no one else) was THE number 1 NON-SELECTEE on the promotion list for Chief Master Sergeant in the 274 career field.

Alas, no one anticipated Desert Shield and Desert Storm and the stop loss that went along with it. So, with a TOPCAP approaching and a stop loss looming, I asked the folks at personnel what that meant. Their cute answer was that I could not retire before 31 August 1991, but I had to retire before 1 September 1991, and that was a pretty short window. After 27 years, 25 days, the Air Force and I parted company.

Let’s just say, I’m still here today.

The best, the one I have the fondest memories of, would have to be my four years with Allied Forces Central Europe (NATO), Brunssum City, The Netherlands. The work, the people, the country, the entire atmosphere, those I worked with, and those who were neighbors. What’s not to like? And right on its heels would be four and a half years at Spangdahlem, Germany. Wonderful memories of both of those assignments.

I don’t think I ever had a “bad” assignment — but at their worst, neither my time in the Philippines, Vietnam, or Korea provided real fond memories. Still, they were growth opportunities for me, personally and professionally. In 1964, I had never really ever been away from home, and 18 months in the PI for a teenager was challenging. Spending the first year of my marriage in a war zone was not what my wife and I had in mind. And then there was Korea, where I was not only away from my wife (again), but now I missed a year out of the lives of my children as they were growing up.

After in-processing at Cam Ranh Bay, like everybody else, I had a week of KP. When I got to the office, I was almost immediately put on the mid-shift. I had been working 30 nights straight when my supervisor caught me one morning and said, “We just realized you hadn’t had a day off. Why don’t you take tonight off? We’ll see you the next day.” Do you have any idea how much your body clock gets turned around after 30 mid-shifts in a row without a day off? I went into the office that night to keep the other guy company. It was another 29 days before I had another day off. So, basically, I had two days off during my first 2 1/2 months in-country. There was one other period in Nam that really stands out. I think I got 3 hours of sleep over a 72-hour period.

I actually extended my tour in Vietnam (just one month) so I could reenlist tax-free. However, because I had taken a couple of extra days’ leave over my first four years, the Air Force charged me for those days and paid me less than the $2000 I was expecting. I did get it back when I reenlisted four years later.

I think the success of the Wing Command and Control System at Spangdahlem was pivotal. It gave me the opportunity to present real-time briefings to senior staff at Hq USAFE during a NATO TacEval. Eventually, our team was selected to help with the installation of the program at Misawa.

I think my DMSM is perhaps the most meaningful. Probably because it came at the conclusion of the best four years of my career. But, from my perspective, I just tried to do the best job I knew how.

Still, at the end of the day, to wear four (4) Bronze Service Stars on the Vietnam Service Medal, and the Combat “V” device and bronze Oak Leaf Cluster on my Air Force Outstanding Unit Citation ribbon for our efforts in Southeast Asia mean as much to me as my DMSM and four (4) MSMs.

A1C’s Vic Torrey and Tom Howe — cops together with me in the Philippines who showed me the ropes. Oh, and “Little Joe” Arnold — great friend — got struck by lightning while guarding aircraft on the flight line: super spirit and a hard worker. Vic, Tom, Joe, and I worked with an SSgt “J” who was one of the least caring, most insensitive supervisors I encountered in my career. Bullying has no place in schools, homes, or even the workplace. But Sgt “J” rode Don like there was no tomorrow.

Don committed suicide one night while serving on guard duty in the non-alert tactical aircraft parking area. Don was a great guy who would give you the shirt off his back. I know he might not have been the sharpest pencil in the drawer, but he tried hard to make up for it.

Nevertheless, I thought Don and I were close enough that he might have talked to me about his plans, but I had no idea. I lost a great buddy in the Philippines. Today, we would say that Don was “bullied.”

Seeing how abused Don was, I swore that if ever I got into a position where I supervised others, I would never abuse them as my friend was treated.

The positive impact he made on my life was learning to take care of those entrusted to my care.

SSgt King W. Small, Vietnam, 1968 — the only thing “small” about him was his name. Just a super guy to work under and a wonderful human being to work with under any (but certainly those difficult) conditions.

Before “K.W.” got there, we had TSgt J.M.D. (I have intentionally redacted his name) was our NCOIC in Vietnam. He was our supervisor, but he never did the job we were doing, so he sat back at his desk, reading the Stars and Stripes while I worked. I’m not convinced he even knew how to do the job he was supervising. There was one day when the workload was absolutely chaotic. I felt like a one-armed paper hanger in a windstorm and a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest. J.M.D. just sat there, reading his paper and mail from home, while I did the work of two or three people. When the shift was over, I asked him why he didn’t help or even ask if he could help. His quite unacceptable answer was, “I wanted to see if you could do it.” TSgt J.M.D. is another of those I learned a lot from, most especially how *NOT* to treat your workers.

I had the very distinct privilege of working for Col Gail S. Halvorsen (the “Candy Bomber” of the Berlin Airlift) when he was my squadron commander at Vandenberg — just a super-human being. So gracious, and when he visited the troops in their work centers, he genuinely showed how much he cared for them. Capt Rick Lenz at Vandenberg was one of the first officers who showed me that officers and enlisted personnel could work together as fellow humans. Same thing for MSgt Hershel Evans, who showed me that senior N.C.O.s could appreciate the work of junior enlisted folks.

Major Bob Hayden and Lt Col Ray Carpenter at Kirtland were champs to work with, as was Colonel Serge Chernay at McClellan. These gentlemen were just that – gentlemen (and it didn’t take an act of Congress). They were professionals, but they gave me a job to do and trusted me to get it done for them. They never let me down, and I tried my hardest never to let them down or betray their trust. When Bob Hayden moved on, a Lt Col who had been an instructor at the USAFA became my immediate supervisor. This man could probably have calculated the second coming of Jesus Christ with a slide rule, but he couldn’t pour rain from a boot with instructions on the heel. As the movie line goes, “he isn’t fit to lead a ‘johnny detail.'” I have also intentionally redacted his name, but I also learned a lot from him about how *NOT* to treat your team.

MSgt Joe Hammill (deceased). A grizzled old N.C.O., we had a young man in our Command Post who called in sick and said he couldn’t work his swing shift. Then we caught him playing flag football with the squadron team that same evening. Joe came back to the Command Post, and when the young man got there, what I heard was, “You’re fired!” I didn’t know we could do that, but apparently, Joe did.

I can’t leave out Eugene D. Santorelli (“General Gene”), as we affectionately called him after he got his star. I saw this Wing King come out of his battle cab during exercises and visit with a young Army troop working liaison — the army lad said he’d never had an Army officer treat him so well. I would get a call from the Colonel and come up, and we’d sit in his office talking about my role in his Wing Command and Control System and our relations with the folks out of Ramstein. When the Wing passed our O.R.I. with flying colors, “General Gene” threw a party AT THE NCO CLUB — he knew who was responsible for our success. Gen Gene and I had a wonderful 1st name relationship. He’d call the Command Post and ask me to come to his office for a visit. He called me Dale, and I called him “Sir.” He eventually retired as a Lieutenant General (Vice Commander of PACAF).

I worked with some of the finest officers and enlisted members of the finest fighting team of all time. Chief Ralph Agavino and Lt Col Dale Morin are two more who were great mentors in my career.

Oberfeldwebel (OFw) Walter Miller, Deutsches Bundeswehr (Luftwaffe). A very dear friend, Walter, and I worked together in the Central Regional Operations Center and spent many a day and night in either a mobile van or in hardened facilities at the AFCENT mobile war headquarters during NATO exercises.

Our joke back then was, “You earned the NATO star with two mobiles, two bunkers, and 1 of your choice.” Now, 30 years later, there actually is a “NATO Medal” being awarded. Ah, we were just ahead of our times.

Our birthdays are one day apart, and even when I returned to the States, I could call Walter at the end of my birthday and the beginning of his birthday. While we were/are effectively a day apart, we could wish each other a happy birthday on our respective days.

I was in Vietnam. It was about 3:00 a.m., and I was returning to our office from the communication center with the next batch of messages to process. There were no lights anywhere, and we were blacked out. But you could see with the moon and starlight. There was a tractor-trailer rig coming down the road; he had his blackout lights in front, but no running lights on the side of his trailers. I stood in the street and let him pass. I saw the end of the trailer, and I stepped forward to finish crossing the road. I never saw that second trailer until after it hit me. Ouch! I rolled around on the ground, put my pistol back in the shoulder holster, took the message traffic back to the office, finished my shift, and went to the ER later on for a check-up.

I’m lucky I didn’t get killed!

I used my military career experience, both from my time in War and Emergency Plans and in Command and Control, to work in Emergency Management, both as a planner and Interim Director.

Subsequently, I completed my seminary training and was ordained as a minister. My present occupation is retired!

I became a life member of the Air Force Association years ago. About 20 years ago, I joined the American Legion and became a life member. In the past three years, I have become a life member of the Disabled American Veterans, the Vietnam Veterans of America, and the Veterans of Foreign Wars.

The collegiality and comradeship of those who can understand what my life has been about, what I’ve done, and a bit about why I am who and what I am today.

I had already inherited a strong work ethic when I enlisted. I entered the military with the intention of making it a career. I learned a great deal about people and received a valuable education simply by doing my job.

What do I miss most? The close comradeship of those I worked with.

You didn’t just get a job — you are serving your nation. You may have joined for the benefits, but this is not a social club, and you will make many sacrifices along the way. Listen to those trying to help you learn the ropes, and don’t get mixed up with those who want to lead you astray. Stay sober, be on time, and work hard.

Just working my way through this survey has been a bit cathartic.