Operation Redwing
US Atomic Veterans
Saylor S. Milton
Saylor S. Milton sent email about his duty at Operation Redwing.
From: SSMilton@aol.com
Subject: Operation Redwing
To: pdxavets@aracnet.com
Date: August 31, 2006
I was an MP with rank of Pfc on Perry Island during Operation Redwing.
I volunteered for the draft in my senior year in college as I learned that
the GI bill would be cut off in the next month.
My two year army stint was varied. I took basic training as infantry, and
then the Medical Corps for the second eight weeks of basic. After three weeks of
medical basic, I was transferred to the Signal Corps. Then later transferred
again to the Medical Corps. This time I was in the post dispensary lab for
nine months and then again transferred to San Francisco for MP training. None of
us in the company at that time were MP's. It didn't take long for us to learn
that we were being trained for something special, something having to do with
radiation.
We embarked from Ft. Mason, San Fracisco for Honolulu, Kwajalein and Eniwetok
on March 5, 1956 on the SS Ainsworth, loaded (the newspaper headlines said)
with 529 GI's. There were about 250 MP's in our 505 MP company. (I don't know
who the other military were), dependents and government employees.
The Ainsworth was no luxury liner, at least for us! Our quarters were bunks
stacked five high in the poorly ventilated bow of the ship. Sea sickness was
extremely common and the vomit smell was horrible! The civilians on board
were given much nicer staterooms in decks above. The ship, apparently having a
out-of-balance propeller, vibrated constantly, but in a way, that was good news
for us.
When we docked in Honolulu, we were told that the ship needed to go into dry
dock for three days to change the propeller and we were given liberty to go
into the city for the three days. What a relief it was to get a rest from that
stinking ship and especially explore Honolulu for a few days!
Five days later we stoped at Kwajalein, dropped off civilian dependents,
scientists, technicians and Holms & Narver workers. A day later we anchored off
Eniwetok atoll.
I must add that during the voyage, we were not allowed to just sit around but
were given busy work, like moving small cargo in the hold from one side of
the ship to the other side and then back again. I soon learned two things:
even if you were not busy, you should look busy and try to avoid sargents. I had
some buddies that were given assignments to work in the ship's laundry so I
went down to help them out. In appreciation they loaned me a white medic's
jacket which I wore for the rest of the trip. I was never put on a work detail
again!
I often like to tell the story of when we arrived at Eniwetok, I pulled a
stunt which almost got me in trouble, but quick thinking saved me. Hearing that
we would be scanned for radio-activity contamination when we arrived on the
island, so before we left on the trip, I had an old, glow-in-the-dark alarm
clock. I scraped the radium paint off the hands of the clock and put it in a
packet of Scotch Tape. I was just curious to see if they could detect it. The PFC
scanning me with his Geiger counter did detect it, and started to escort me
to the de-contamination shed! I said, "Hold it soldier", and pulled out the
packet and showed him. I said, "the captain gave this to me to see if you're
doing your job. Nice work, I'll give the captain your name". The PFC seemed
pleased!
Half of us were assigned to Eniwetok Island, and other half on Perry island
where the "gadgets", as the scientists and technicians called them, were
assembled. I was one of the lucky ones assigned to Perry Island. It was good, but
often boring guard duty, however, Perry Island had especially good chow.
Steaks and strawberries every Saturday night, fresh vegtables with each meal, all
served family-style. For breakfast the Hawaiian cooks always asked how you
wanted your eggs--unheard of in army chow lines. I ate with the scientists and
technicians who would often talk about their "gadgets", but were not supposed
to.
The shots (tests) were unforgetable. The A-bomb shots were held at Enewetok
Atoll and the H-bomb shots were done at Bikini atoll which was 190 miles away.
The first A-bomb shot , which I believe was called Lacrosse, was 40 miles
away which was impressive enough, but the third shot, Erie, from a tower on Runit
Island, was incredible! We knew something unusual was up as they installed
steel cable tie-downs on the water tower and all the quanset huts on the
island. We were told to leave the flaps rolled up on our tents. For each shot we
were lose-marched down to the beach to listen to the count-down over the
loudspeakers. If we wern't on duty we could just wear our kaki shorts but it was
recommended we wear a shirt. I didn't!
We were told that it would be best if we lie down on the sand for this test,
but some of us didn't. Dark goggles were given to the officers and non-coms,
but the rest of us had to face in the opposite direction at the explosion. At
zero count down, I felt that the flash almost burned the flesh off my back.
Even looking away from the fireball, it almost blinded me, but after the flash
died down, I turned around and saw the most amazing scene I ever saw--a
fading, multi-colored fire ball with the trails of the tracking rockets. I
estimated the fireball itself covered five square miles! A few seconds later the
blast hit! We could see it coming with ripples on the lagoon coming toward us.
The blast knocked me down! I stood up once again only to be sand-blasted on
the back with the back-wind.
After that, the other seven A-bomb shots over the other far islands in the
atoll during the next three months seemed tame in comparison.
The H-bomb shots at Bikini were another matter. Bikini was over the horizon
190 miles away, so we never saw the fireball or had to worry about the blast,
but they were shot just before the sun came up while it was still dark. When
the count-down reached zero, the entire sky lit up just like it was noon and
lasted about 20 seconds. About ten minutes later we heard the blast noise, but
it wasn't just one big boom, but many booms in succesion a few seconds apart.
I assumed they were echos from various layers of the atmosphere.
One night I was assigned a guard post near the dock where a barge containing
a H-bomb was loaded that day, but shrouded in canvas. After the
Sargent-of-the-Guard left I pulled back the canvas and took a peek. It didn't look like a
bomb. Just wires, pipes, gauges and valves. I heard that this was to be shot
Dakota at Bikini, a one-megaton "gadget"! I thought it was strange that I
was guarding an H-bomb and given nothing more than a .45 caliber pistol with
five rounds of ammunition.
The rest of the duty was similar and routine. Guard duty at the airport, the
harbor, checking the security badges of the civilian workers coming back from
their shifts in DKW's and so on.
After the last shot, we were evacuated somewhat in a hurry back to the SS
Ainsworth, but this time, we didn't have to stay in the troopship bunks in the
bow, but were given state rooms. (The officers and noncoms had state rooms with
windows or portholes, but, we didn't.) We even had menus for dinner! But
the best was yet to come.
We were told the Ainsworth once again had to be repaired when we docked in
Honolulu (or more likely, decontaminated). We were given liberty, and this time
for 5 days!
The only problem was that we couldn't wear civvies on liberty, only our
uniform, which was actually an advantage as we were treated royally and given
discounts wherever in Honolulu we wanted to go.
The return trip to San Francisco was uneventful and we weren't given
make-work details on the way back.
As I had 6 more months to go in the army, I was assigned again to the medics
and worked in the dispensary lab at the Presidio of San Francisco until I was
discharged.
In all, it was pretty good duty and have memories I will never forget. Many
good stories to tell to my grandchildren someday.
That was 50 years ago. I would very much like to correspond with anyone who
was in Operation Redwing in 1956, especially anybody stationed on Perry
Island, or members of the 505 Military Police company.
Saylor S. Milton
3512 PCH
Ventura, CA
(805) 648-5741
Email: ssmillton@aol.com
Keith Whittle
September 8, 2006
From: SSMilton@aol.com
Date: Wed, 13 Sep 2006
Subject: Part II, Operation Redwing stories
To: pdxavets@aracnet.com
Operation Redwing, 1956. Eniwetok Atoll, Perry Island
Part II,
"My Army adventures as an MP"
As I knew in GI bill would lapse in a month and I didn't want to give up
those benefits, I volunteered for the draft in my senior year in college as a
chemistry major. After basic training I was transferred three different times,
the last of which was in the Post Dispensary at Ft. Huachuca, Arizona and
assigned to do blood chemistry analysis. I was in seventh-heaven, working in a
fully equipped and well stocked laboratory. I wanted to stay there for the rest
of my "enlistment", but that was about to change.
Orders came down that all "surplused personnel", (meaning those who did not
go to a special army MOS school were classified as surplus) were to report to
the Presidio of San Francisco for MP training. My name was on the list, and I
did not want to be an MP! My commander, who liked my work, told me he
couldn't do anything about it as these were "special orders" and there was something
big going on.
Our MP training consisted of how to use handcuffs, a tour through the post
stockade and at least five days on the firing range. We were shown many army
training films, most of which were about training for biological and
radiological events which I thought was unusual. I knew something was up!
There were three firing ranges. One, a 300-yard range for the M1 rifles,
which I scored third-highest in the company. The second was of shorter distance
and used for the fully automatic, but slow firing, .45 caliber "grease guns".
We Pfc.'s were only allowed to shoot 5 rounds of ammo, but the non-coms had
full clips and blasted away.
The third range was the pistol range for the standard MP side-arm of the
time, the Colt .45, and wow, could that thing kick! I couldn't hit a damn thing
with it. The range officer came over and gave us a demonstration of his
prowess, shooting with his right hand, left hand, over his shoulder with a mirror,
shooting bending over between his legs, and hit a bulls-eye each time!
Before we embarked from Ft. Mason, San Francisco, we were issued suede,
ankle-length boots which I assumed were designed to walk over the sharp coral
rocks, and they were very comfortable. Even the civilian workers on the island
wore them. However, when we were off-duty, the favored footwear were the
"gee-toks" which today we call, thongs.
We landed from a landing craft on a rocky beach on Eniwetok and given
sandwiches and fruit for lunch. I put my half-eaten sandwich down on the rocks
beside me to look at the beautiful scene of the calm lagoon, knowing that it would
soon be disturbed. After a few minutes, I reached down to pick up my sandwich
and it was surrounded by hermit crabs in their shells--eating my sandwich!
A few minutes later the captain came by and chided us because our boots were
not polished! (How do you polish suede leather?)
Later, we were segregated. A group to serve on Eniwetok Island and the rest
of us to serve on Perry Island, which was much better duty.
While there, I made many friends, many of which were not in our outfit. One
night when I was assigned lone guard duty at the harbor with my "trusty" .45
with five rounds of ammo, a shadowy figure approached me from behind, with what
looked like a slinged weapon around his neck. Not given any other
instructions as to how to challenge an intruder, I used the old expression, "Halt! Who
goes there?", and pulled my .45 from it's holster.
He said, "Hi, Milt. It's me, John." (I never used my first name, Saylor.
It was too confusing to the guys). John was an official army photographer
whom I had made friends with earlier and what was slinged around his neck was his
camera. He said his assignment that night was to get pictures of security
guards on duty. He took my picture and I asked him if he could get a print for
me, but later said he couldn't; it was against security regulations.
There were eight bunks in our tent, occupied by eight entirely different
guys. There was an old PFC, probably in his late 30's. I stupidly asked him, how
come he was only a PFC? He said he was a master sergeant, but "screwed up"
one night and was busted down to a PFC. He had only one year to go on his
20-year enlistment. I was sorry I asked.
Another guy in our tent was someone I really felt sorry for. He had no
friends, no one would associate with him. They wouldn't dare, for he was very
effeminate. Poor guy! I often wondered what happened to him.
And there was the buck sergeant who served in Japan, who would often regale
us, ad noisome, with stories about Japanese prostitutes.
Of course I could never forget the body-builder tent-mate who somehow managed
to bring his own exercise equipment! Nor could I forget the kid who had a
terrible case of acne on his face and chest. He would only eat high-protein
foods. Whether or not it caused his acne or thought high doses of protein would
cure it, I had no idea.
When we were off duty at night, there were choices of entertainment. Old
movies were shown every night and typewriters were available to write home, but
the best fun was to watch the civilians tease the sharks from a barge tied up
next to the wharf. They would tie a rope around a fish they caught that day
and dangle it in the water. When a shark came up to eat it, they would jerk it
upward. Some of those sharks could jump up very high to try to grab that fish.
One of the more bizarre sights I saw, was a H-bomb, shrouded in canvas,
which was slowly being transported out of the assembly shed to be loaded on a
barge and then later towed to Bikini Lagoon. There were only a few of us MP's on
duty near by, checking the ID badges of civilian workers going to and from
work, transported on DKW's, but we saw what was going on. A civilian engineer,
scientist (or whatever he was), was riding on the trailer alongside the
"gadget" with a silly .38 caliber revolver. If somebody tired to steal his H-bomb, I
wondered what he planned to do with that .38 revolver.
One day, five of us were to report to the air strip as part of the welcoming
guard for VIP's. It turned out that the VIP's were reporters and TV
personalities. I personally checked the ID badge of Bob Considine and welcomed him to
Perry Island. In his party were three women, a very welcomed sight for us
as these were the first women we had seen in three months. I thought it best
that I not spend too much time inspecting their ID's pinned to their blouses!
I spent a lot of time guarding the airstrip and made friends with one of the
Air Force mechanics. The workhorse aircraft that flew in and out were
single-engine De Havilland's. One day the mechanic invited me to sit in the cockpit
while he taxied the plane around to check the brakes. It was then and there
that I promised myself that when I was discharged, I would take flying lessons.
Well, it took me about 25 years to fulfill that promise. I earned my
private pilot's license and owned a series of small planes. My last was a Cessna
182-RG. My wife and I took many adventurous vacations in that sweet plane. (But
I digress.)
Before we left Ft. Mason, we were told where we were going, and what to
expect when we got there. I brought along a snorkel pipe, mask and an inflatable
mattress. When off duty, I would often swim out to the lagoon and observe the
striking and pristine (but probably radioactive) coral reefs with a multitude
of beautiful tropical fish and gigantic clams. We were warned of the
poisonous stone fish, lurking in the coral, which had deadly venomous spines on
their back. There were posters warning of the danger of the fish posted on the
kiosk by the mess hall. I never saw any stone fish, but I never walked on the
live coral either.
One day, six of us were assigned to a two-night guard duty of what I guessed
was a monitoring station located on a small, rat-infested island five miles
away, supervised by (who I'll call) "Sgt. Not So-Bright". It was very hot and
humid, but there was an air-conditioned trailer nearby and we were told that
we could go in occasionally and get a drink of cold water. I did, but was
distracted by a recent edition of the Scientific American magazine. Sgt. Not
So-Bright, thinking I was gone too long, threw open the door and chewed me out for
going through "classified documents". When we got back to Perry Island, I
was told that "Top" (the top sergeant) wanted to see me. He asked, "What the
hell were you doing, going through classified documents?" I told him I was just
reading the Scientific American magazine which you could buy on any newsstand
at home. Top, apparently knowing Sgt. Not So-Bright's past performance,
simply said, "Well, try to stay away from him. Dismissed...!"
There are two more stories worthy of telling. When we first arrived at Perry
Island there were folding captain's chairs at every guard post. Later the
"brass" inspecting the posts apparently decided that guards siting down at
their posts didn't look "military" enough and took them away. It was a bummer
having to stand for the entire five-hour shifts, often in the hot tropical sun.
The other story is about the rain slickers we rolled up and attached to our
pistol belt as there were at least two or three rain showers each day. Some of
the guys, including myself, brought reading material to alleviate the boredom
of guard duty, but soon we were ordered that reading on duty was not allowed.
The day before, I rolled my paperback in the rain slicker and promptly
forgot about it. The next morning during pre-duty inspection a sergeant inspected
each rain slicker. When he approached me, I remembered the paperback, and
thought, I'm in trouble now. Before he had a chance to inspect the slicker, I
explained to him, that as soon as I heard the order, I put it away and simply
forgot it was there. For some reason he bought the story.
All of this happened fifty years ago and I remember most of it just like it
was yesterday!
Saylor S. Milton
3512 PCH
Ventura, CA
(805) 648-5741
Email: ssmillton@aol.com
Keith Whittle
September 13, 2006
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