Operation Southern Watch, Saudi Arabia, 1993

 I left Active Duty on 1 May, 1990, because the Berlin Wall fell the previous fall, the Soviet Union was falling apart before our eyes, and I was sitting B-52 alert, living away from my family, one week out of every three for no discernible reason. The next day, I was in Pittsburgh at my first Unit Training Assembly (UTA), or what most people call Drill weekend (“One weekend a month, 15 days a year,” My ass!) On to the world of C-130 Tactical Airlift.

Almost immediately, Iraq invaded Kuwait, and within several days, guys from my Bomber unit deployed to Diego Garcia to be in place if we were to take it back (We did, and they flew downtown Baghdad low level the first night of the war). I, on the other hand, sat at home and worked my new civilian job as a Quality Engineer at Cooper Power systems, and slowly got up to speed in my new airplane. It took a couple months because I would only go in during the evenings to study with an Instructor Navigator, or fly. I ended up taking my high level checkride in about October or November. 

     When it looked like we might deploy, all of a sudden my check ride for being “Mission” Qualified” (able to fly low level, and deliver supplies either via airland and/or airdrop) was condensed into two demo rides and a check ride. Needs of the Air Force.

     But we didn’t go… because Turkey suddenly backed out of letting the US stage out of one of their airports. We were geared to do a huge paratroop drop of the 173 Infantry Brigade out of Italy into Northern Iraq to secure the airfield, but that was cancelled. (Ends up C-17s did it later and threw their troops all over the sky, some miles from each other). So, I spent the “Gulf War” (Feb -Mar ‘91) flying out of Pittsburgh and other places, moving supplies and weapons to the coast where either C-5s &C-141s, or ships took them to Saudi Arabia.

     After the War was done, there was an operation, Operation Southern Watch, set up to monitor the Iraqis and ensure they behaved. C-130 units took turns sending crews and planes over to move stuff around. Our base got tagged in late January of ‘93. I really wanted to be a part of SOMETHING, so I volunteered to fill a spot with a Youngstown crew that was going at the same time as crews from my unit. I flew over with them, stopping in St. Johns, Newfoundland; probably Mildenhall, England; Crete and finally Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, where the US set up an operating base on the Persian Gulf.

     Our job was to fly around the entire Persian Gulf moving stuff from one place or the other. I found out that flying around Saudi Arabia is much like driving across Texas. It takes forever! Miles and miles of nothing, Then suddenly a huge city. Then nothing. 

     My Youngstown crew had two pilots who were planning to fly for the airlines, so they would fly as slow as possible across Saudi Arabia in order to build up flying time. It was agony. Luckily, I only had about three missions with them, when someone realized that one of the Pitt crews had a married couple flying together, the guy was the Nav and the girl was the Aircraft Commander. When brought to his attention, the  Commander put a quick stop to that! So they swapped Navigators, and I went to the Pitt crew, while the married Nav came to my Youngstown crew.

     We were staying in the Khobar Towers, right next to the airport. Big US compound made up with a bunch of high rise apartment buildings the Saudi government built to provide homes for the Bedouins using all their oil money. Unfortunately, Bedouins like their nomadic lives where sheep and goats and camels could roam with them. The apartment buildings didn’t provide for any of that, so they never got used.  Very nice place. I think I was up on the 7th or 8th floor. Huge place that had 4 or 6 bedrooms, marble floors, balconies, huge flat screen TVs, etc. 

     Interestingly enough, those high rise dorms were the ones bombed by terrorists three years later, on 25 Jun, 1996. I remember sitting on the balcony overlooking the security fence line and the entry checkpoint thinking how close they were. Timing is everything.

     As I stated before, the flying was pretty boring. We’d leave Dhahran, fly all the way down to Oman, the UAE, Yemen or the Southwest corner of Saudi to Khamis Mushait (and pick up U-2 surveillance camera film and take it to the HQ at Riyadh for analysis. Other times we’d go to some pretty obscure places that didn’t even have full runways yet (we’d land on the taxi-ways), where we’d pick up pallets of old bombs, mines, ammo, bullets, etc, and take them to a base called Al Kharj… we called it Al’s Garage… where they would collect it for storage or shipment back to the States.

     It was a fun month of seeing more of the world than I had done before. 

     All too soon it was over, and I was back in the US. Within a day or two of my return, the “Blizzard of ‘93” hit, which was quite a dichotomy from what I had been used to the past month or so. I think we were snowed in for at least three days… the roads were impassable for at least one. Luckily, Laura had a Mazda MPV by then, and we could get out and about Zelienople fairly quickly after we dug it out.

Kenneth Holland

These are men who inspired me as a kid. Hardworking men of the earth and sea. None of them were perfect, but each lived life on his own terms. If I can only come close to living the lives they've led, I'll have been successful.

The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.

~ Vincent Van Goh

(Ken is my Mom's oldest sister's husband, and lived two doors down from us on Jura Beach, in Anacortes, WA.)

A lifelong salt who spun a fine yarn, Kenneth Holland, 75, died Saturday, March 6, 2004, at his home in Anacortes, from complications of chronic emphysema, a disease common to smokers.

The crab fisherman who spent decades battling big swells and slop in the waters of Washington and Alaska was born Dec. 23, 1928, on dry land in Copperstown, N.D.

His family moved to Olympia when he was a boy, and he fell in love with the sea, floating off on logs or hobbled-together rafts. After his family moved to Anacortes, the young teen canvassed and tarred a kayak frame and paddled solo from island to island in the San Juans.

That would be the first of many boats Kenneth would build, including a beautiful mahogany hydroplane, an 18-foot sailboat, custom kayaks and a classic 26-foot Columbia River double-ender.

After graduating from Anacortes High School in 1947, Kenneth went to work in the local plywood mill his father supervised for more than a decade.

In the mid-1950s, he began crabbing local waters in a flat-bottomed, 19-foot skiff, selling his catch on weekends from a pickup at Sharpe's Corner, along with his wife Carolyn Holland.

Kenneth bought his first crab boat, the F. V. Dora H in 1964, followed by the 72-foot Point Omega, the 98-foot Carolyn Jean and the 98-foot Barbarossa. Kenneth and his crews crabbed the waters off Kodiak Island, working short seasons and long hours. His men described their skipper as "all business" behind the wheel.

After he became sick with emphysema, Kenneth, staring out at Similk Bay from his beachside home, would regale friends and family with lively tales of the sea.

He would describe horrific swells, rogue waves, 80 mph southwesters, weeks without sleep and catches that might or might not make it all worth it.

"You always hope for the best and you usually end up with the worst — but that's fishing," Kenneth often liked to say.

He is survived by his wife of 56 years, Carolyn; his sons and daughter-in-law, Kenneth and Christine Holland of Kodiak, Alaska, and Richard Holland of Anacortes; his daughters and son-in-law, Kathryn Holland of Anacortes and Rebecca and Kenneth Bangsund of Everett; his seven grandchildren, Shawn and Megan Holland and Sunshine and Aaron Stevens of of Kodiak, Serina and Matthew Armstrong, Karen Bangsund and Devin Bangsund of Everett and Travis Smith and Vannessa Biggers of Anacortes; and four great-grandchildren, Winter, Hunter, Zanna and Kadin Stevens.

Kenneth will be cremated and buried at sea, with no formal services. His family has asked that memorials be sent to Skagit Hospice Foundation, P.O. Box 1376, Mount Vernon, WA 98273; or Children's Orthopedic Hospital, MS/S-200, P.O. Box 50020, Seattle, WA 98145-5020.

Arrangements are in the care of Evans Funeral Chapel of Anacortes.

John Miller

John was born in Morris, MN on June 26, 1928. He was 1 of 9 children and grew up on a farm. He was drafted into the Army in May of 1951. He fought in the Korean War and was wounded on September 11, 1951. He was honorably discharged in February, 1952.

He courted and married Wanda Branby on February 7, 1953. Together they raised 6 children, Beth, Greg, Brian, Mike, Bruce and Jackie.

He was known to many as “Trapper John” or “JJ”.

He accrued up to six weeks of vacation a year and he used it every year mostly with hunting and fishing trips. He spent a lot of time with his brothers, his brother’s-in law, his immediate family and friends. Most of his fishing stories came from Lake Minnewaska in Glennwood, Lake Sallie in Detroit Lakes, Canada and of course - - Lake Mille Lacs. There were also vacations to Vegas where Wanda would play the slots and John would scope out the hottest machines for Wanda to play next.

John retired from telephone company after 40 years of service. He rarely (if ever) missed a day of work. Despite his years of pain and suffering and his struggle with alcohol, he displayed quite a work ethic. John overcame his problem with alcohol, on his own 16 years ago. Being the strong person he was, he was able to “kick the habit“ - - something we were very proud of.

John was a very strong and determined individual. Despite his disability he got around quite well in his younger days and enjoyed life to the fullest. That changed, however, toward the later years. Shortly after he retired he rarely left the house. Once when he did, he came home to a remodeled kitchen - - that was it he never left again.

John took care of his family. He was always there to give you a $10, $20 or even $100 bill when you needed it. He was always willing to help. I’m sure many people here today recall him telling them to “pull the hood” when they drove into his driveway. He’d always check to make sure their car was running smoothly

I’ll never forget the time my boss Barbara said, “hey Jackie, isn’t that your dad out there in the parking lot working on your car?” It was..........he was changing a headlight - - in the middle of January wearing a snowmobile suit!

Whatever John had was good enough for him! He’d make sure everyone else had everything they needed (us kids anyway not always Wanda) but what he had was fine. That is evidenced by the 1985 truck and Chevy Citation sitting in his driveway today, the numerous bikes in his basement and the garage filled with the “stuff” John would never throw away. By the way please stop by the garage sale following the service today!

Most every friend of the kids became a friend to John and Wanda as well. He was a favorite uncle to many, a great neighbor, a great friend and a great father. He touched many lives..... whether it was the neighbor kid Stew who shared the same birthday with John, his great newphew Kegger who was his little fishing buddy, his nephew Gary who he took time to have a drink with and talk to prior to his departure to Vietnam, or when he traveled all the way to Philadelphia (by car) to be with his nephew Tom who had been wounded in the Vietnam War. These are just few of the lives he touched.

Then there’s the mailman and the paperboy. Just the other day, the mailman stopped by to give his condolences. John talked with him almost everyday when he came by. In fact, the mailman said John was the only customer of his who knew his first and last name. He recalled John always being bare-backed (wearing no shirt) and wearing his baseball cap backwards. He of course remembers being invited in for lunch numerous times.

I’m sure the paperboy recalls John standing patiently at the door for his morning paper. What a site that must have been - - John standing in his underwear with his crutches. You know he invited him in for coffee and donuts!

Then there’s Cub Foods. John visited Cub almost daily while on his trip through downtown Bloomington. Pushing the cart made it easier for him to get around. He loved to taste the food and visit with the people in the meat department. I’m sure there are people here today from Cub and possibly the old Country Club who remember John and wish to pay their respects.

What about the people at the service stations who opened their garages early and let John assist with the fixing of his own vehicles. This of course is what John would tell us - - I still find that hard to believe, don’t you?

Trapper John, JJ, Dad, brother, husband, friend... you were a unique and wonderful individual - - you will be deeply missed, but never forgotten. We know you’re walking a much easier walk in heaven. May God Bless You!