Mid-February - the gloomy winter was dragging on. I had postponed a trip to New Mexico twice already.
Francis Beers had wanted some publicity for the Atomic Veterans and suggested that maybe I could do it. I had demurred - wasn't sure how to go about it. One day he called and asked me to ask the Times if they would do it. So I asked editor Mary Jane if they were interested. She suggested that I write a column on it.
That's what I needed. Between the persistence of Francis and Mary Jane's encouragement, I could write a column.
I started with my usual sketchy outline and concluded that if I were to do it justice I needed some background. Okay, two columns, one on the background and then conclusions. It was eventually 15.
So, where to start? The American conquest of the Marianas was crucial. But as Iwo Jima lay between the Marianas and Japan, that conquest was crucial too. And it is a treasure trove of material - the conquest itself, the iconic, controversial flag-raising and the monument, and the movie that propelled a B movie cowboy to superstardom.
And that doesn't begin to touch the drama and political intrigue of the Manhattan Project and its aftermath. A semi-competent screenwriter could do a keystone cops series on FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover and his gumshoes shadowing J. Robert Oppenheimer while another scientist, Klaus Fuchs, was feeding information out of Los Alamos to the Soviets. They knew about the bomb long before Vice President Truman. Whatta farce.
What was I doing trying to tell this complex story in a few newspaper columns? Well, since other than some vets and students of WWII history could identify Tinian, and have no idea why the Marianas or that piece of volcanic rock, Iwo Jima, was so crucial in the war against Japan, maybe I could summarize some key incidents in a readable fashion. Besides, this was getting me into some incredibly interesting reading.
I submitted the first of the series for Feb. 25. It was time to leave for New Mexico. I'm not a computer jock, but thanks to that piece of frustrating gear I could work on the series from afar.
I tossed a few duds, my computer, and a couple of books on the Pacific campaign into my GMC and headed west and south. The Iowa landscape was gray and drab - same in northern Missouri. I caught a motel in Bethany. The next morning, the sky looked menacing toward the north, but I was headed south. Didn't matter - snow flurries around Kansas City.
Once through K.C., I caught breakfast at a Waffle House in the western suburbs. It was raining, but the roads were good. I headed for Emporia, and tuned in to Kansas Public Radio. Kansans were rejoicing. Boeing had just aced out Air Bus for the lucrative contract for the refueling aircraft that fed the big bombers. That meant a lot of jobs coming to Wichita rather than Alabama.
Wait a minute - conventional wisdom is that "government can't create jobs." Besides, there is a chorus against government spending. There aren't many flaming liberals in Kansas, but I guess this is different. Rather than rain on the parade, might as well let Kansas politicians rejoice in the government contract that brings jobs that government can't create. And let the Alabama politicians gripe because they didn't get the contract with the jobs that government can't create anyway.
There is logic behind political rhetoric, but it's a perverse and disingenuous logic. I understand it and it's predictable - but I don't like it and can't condone it.
Emporia is a nice town, home of William Allen White, legendary editor of the Emporia Gazette. South and west of Emporia, I head west on U.S. 56 across the Flint Hills. In summer, the Flint Hills are scenic, with lush bluish green grass and herds of Black Angus and Herefords dotting the rolling hills. In winter, the grass is dead and brown.
Once through the Flint Hills, the landscape is flat again. The drabness is broken up by the greenish tinge of winter wheat poking through the ground. At last, Great Bend where I usually stop at Dillon's supermarket and partake of their salad bar. An assortment of lettuce, spinach, olives, bean salad, some pepperoni, and some fruit and nuts hit the spot.
Back into my GMC - curses, it's drizzling again and the temp is around 32 degrees. I drive carefully and as I approach Dodge City, the roads are dry. In western Kansas, we go from Radio Kansas to High Plains Public Radio. I occasionally send HPPR a few bucks out of appreciation. If the congressional Republicans have their way and zero out funding for public radio, these rural stations will go under.
At Dodge, I head south to U.S. 54. Darkness comes early on a cloudy day in February. I cross into Oklahoma, the diagonal route across the Panhandle and stop in Guymon at a Mexican restaurant I have never tried. It's pretty good, B to B plus. Back into my GMC, I call Kathryn and Michael in Tucumcari to reserve a room at the Route 66 motel.
After Oklahoma's panhandle, it's the northwestern corner of the Texas panhandle, Stratford and Dalhart. Then a few more miles to New Mexico and Nara Visa, a post office and a few dwellings.
I like traveling this part of the high plains range country, from Nara Visa, to Logan, then to Tucumcari. Arriving in Tucumcari, I check in with Kathryn and Michael. It's still quite chilly, but Kathryn had turned on the heat in the neat sparkling room costing under 30 bucks.
I unload my duds and my computer and pop open a can of Heileman's Special Export. Time to hit the sack - I'm looking forward to huevos rancheros at the Pow Wow Inn next morning.
- Monroe resident John Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
Francis Beers had wanted some publicity for the Atomic Veterans and suggested that maybe I could do it. I had demurred - wasn't sure how to go about it. One day he called and asked me to ask the Times if they would do it. So I asked editor Mary Jane if they were interested. She suggested that I write a column on it.
That's what I needed. Between the persistence of Francis and Mary Jane's encouragement, I could write a column.
I started with my usual sketchy outline and concluded that if I were to do it justice I needed some background. Okay, two columns, one on the background and then conclusions. It was eventually 15.
So, where to start? The American conquest of the Marianas was crucial. But as Iwo Jima lay between the Marianas and Japan, that conquest was crucial too. And it is a treasure trove of material - the conquest itself, the iconic, controversial flag-raising and the monument, and the movie that propelled a B movie cowboy to superstardom.
And that doesn't begin to touch the drama and political intrigue of the Manhattan Project and its aftermath. A semi-competent screenwriter could do a keystone cops series on FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover and his gumshoes shadowing J. Robert Oppenheimer while another scientist, Klaus Fuchs, was feeding information out of Los Alamos to the Soviets. They knew about the bomb long before Vice President Truman. Whatta farce.
What was I doing trying to tell this complex story in a few newspaper columns? Well, since other than some vets and students of WWII history could identify Tinian, and have no idea why the Marianas or that piece of volcanic rock, Iwo Jima, was so crucial in the war against Japan, maybe I could summarize some key incidents in a readable fashion. Besides, this was getting me into some incredibly interesting reading.
I submitted the first of the series for Feb. 25. It was time to leave for New Mexico. I'm not a computer jock, but thanks to that piece of frustrating gear I could work on the series from afar.
I tossed a few duds, my computer, and a couple of books on the Pacific campaign into my GMC and headed west and south. The Iowa landscape was gray and drab - same in northern Missouri. I caught a motel in Bethany. The next morning, the sky looked menacing toward the north, but I was headed south. Didn't matter - snow flurries around Kansas City.
Once through K.C., I caught breakfast at a Waffle House in the western suburbs. It was raining, but the roads were good. I headed for Emporia, and tuned in to Kansas Public Radio. Kansans were rejoicing. Boeing had just aced out Air Bus for the lucrative contract for the refueling aircraft that fed the big bombers. That meant a lot of jobs coming to Wichita rather than Alabama.
Wait a minute - conventional wisdom is that "government can't create jobs." Besides, there is a chorus against government spending. There aren't many flaming liberals in Kansas, but I guess this is different. Rather than rain on the parade, might as well let Kansas politicians rejoice in the government contract that brings jobs that government can't create. And let the Alabama politicians gripe because they didn't get the contract with the jobs that government can't create anyway.
There is logic behind political rhetoric, but it's a perverse and disingenuous logic. I understand it and it's predictable - but I don't like it and can't condone it.
Emporia is a nice town, home of William Allen White, legendary editor of the Emporia Gazette. South and west of Emporia, I head west on U.S. 56 across the Flint Hills. In summer, the Flint Hills are scenic, with lush bluish green grass and herds of Black Angus and Herefords dotting the rolling hills. In winter, the grass is dead and brown.
Once through the Flint Hills, the landscape is flat again. The drabness is broken up by the greenish tinge of winter wheat poking through the ground. At last, Great Bend where I usually stop at Dillon's supermarket and partake of their salad bar. An assortment of lettuce, spinach, olives, bean salad, some pepperoni, and some fruit and nuts hit the spot.
Back into my GMC - curses, it's drizzling again and the temp is around 32 degrees. I drive carefully and as I approach Dodge City, the roads are dry. In western Kansas, we go from Radio Kansas to High Plains Public Radio. I occasionally send HPPR a few bucks out of appreciation. If the congressional Republicans have their way and zero out funding for public radio, these rural stations will go under.
At Dodge, I head south to U.S. 54. Darkness comes early on a cloudy day in February. I cross into Oklahoma, the diagonal route across the Panhandle and stop in Guymon at a Mexican restaurant I have never tried. It's pretty good, B to B plus. Back into my GMC, I call Kathryn and Michael in Tucumcari to reserve a room at the Route 66 motel.
After Oklahoma's panhandle, it's the northwestern corner of the Texas panhandle, Stratford and Dalhart. Then a few more miles to New Mexico and Nara Visa, a post office and a few dwellings.
I like traveling this part of the high plains range country, from Nara Visa, to Logan, then to Tucumcari. Arriving in Tucumcari, I check in with Kathryn and Michael. It's still quite chilly, but Kathryn had turned on the heat in the neat sparkling room costing under 30 bucks.
I unload my duds and my computer and pop open a can of Heileman's Special Export. Time to hit the sack - I'm looking forward to huevos rancheros at the Pow Wow Inn next morning.
- Monroe resident John Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
