Chapter Five - Post WWII

My duties after returning to the U.S., were interesting to me, but possible not to anyone else, so I won't waste many words on them.

I was first assigned to the Infantry School at Fort Benning, Georgia, where I was a Department Director. I was responsible for a department which taught small unit tactics. This assignment lasted about a year.

I was recognized by the U.S. Armed Forces as a supposed "expert" in amphibious operations, having been intimately involved in three such operations in Africa and Europe. So, I was transferred to San Diego, California, and once again, attached to the U.S. Marines, this time at Camp Mathews just outside of San Diego. It was then obvious that the war in Europe was about to end. A number of U.S. Divisions stationed in Europe were to be rotated to the U.S. where they would be trained in amphibious operations at Camp Mathews preparatory to a major U.S. assault on Japan. I was to have been a key figure in this amphibious training program.

Just as the program was about to start, the U.S. dropped a couple of atomic bombs on Japan and that was the end of the war with Japan and the end of my mission with the Marines.

I was then assigned to Fort Knox, Kentucky and put in charge of the amphibious equipment development program for the U.S. Army. It may sound odd that the headquarters for this program would be in Kentucky, but Fort Knox was the headquarters for what was then called the Army Ground Forces Board #2, which was responsible for testing all armored vehicles, including those which could swim, namely amphibious vehicles. I lived at Fort Knox, but virtually all of my people and all of my testing facilities were located at Fort Ord, California near Monterey, the net result of which was that I had to fly to California very frequently in order to exercise some control over the testing operations there. This went on for a year or so, after which, in the Fall of 1946, I was sent to the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas as a student.

After a year as a student at the C&GSC, I was assigned to the faculty, where I taught until 1949.

The years at the C&GSC were quite pleasant. I played a lot of golf and got my handicap down to 8, believe it or not. A recent visitor to Coronado, whom I knew as a student in those days, confirmed the handicap.

We had small classes at the C&GSC - about 30 students in a class out of a total student enrollment of perhaps 200 or more.

A rather amusing incident was that I had to teach what they called "Armored Tactics" one year. I had the usual small class of 30 students, one of whom, who always sat in the front row, was Lieutenant Colonel Creighton Abrams. "Abe" was a very good and attentive student. But everyone in the Army in those days knew that Abe was probably the most knowledgeable person in the world, based upon his WWII experiences, in the field of armored tactics. His exploits, for example, far outshone the famous German General, Erwin Rommel, although they fought in different theaters of war.

The "system" so to speak at the C&GSC in those days was that the entire faculty would outline a military problem for presentation to the students and would also outline a solution against which the student solutions would be judged.

There was one particular day in class which I will always remember. The "problem" was presented. It had to do with armored tactics. The students gave their various solutions to the problem, and then I presented the "faculty solution." There were hands raised throughout the small class and some rather indignant comments about the "faculty solution." I was feeling quite uncomfortable, not having been in complete agreement with the "faculty solution" myself, when good old Abe came to my rescue. He rose and said that he couldn't agree with every detail of the faculty solution, but that he felt that it was basically sound, and he then went on to berate those of his fellow students who had "overreacted." I was off the hook, so to speak, but Abe came up to me after the class was over and gave me what might be called some friendly advice, namely that we in the faculty might give a little bit more thought and analysis to some of our "solutions." This was a bit unusual for a student to do, and it was rather diplomatically phrased for a guy like Abe, who, at that time, was not famous for phrasing things diplomatically. But Abe was a most unusual fellow, which we all learned when he later became Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army. As a sort of postscript, on the night before Abe's graduation from the Command & General Staff College, there was a big party given by his class, during which both Abe and I and others became what might be termed "happy and carefree." Abe had just received his orders to go back to Europe as an armored battalion commander. Even though he was only a Lieutenant Colonel at that time, he was so incensed by those orders ( and I can't say that I blamed him) since he had already proven over and over in combat that he could command a much larger unit, that he threatened to go down to the local Western Union office and send a telegram to the Chief of Staff of the Army and everyone else he could think of in Washington, telling them, in effect, to "stuff it." Of course this was only "liquor talk." I don't know who had had the most liquor - perhaps I had - because I told Abe that if he did that, he would have to fight me first, and we finally resolved the situation by having another drink. I was relieved that he hadn't accepted my challenge, because I probably wouldn't have stood a chance against him.

I met Abe only once more after he graduated from the C&GSC, and that was at a military symposium at Fort Benning, Georgia. In the late 1940s, Military personnel of all ranks, including a number of multi-star generals, gathered for this meeting. I came from Fort Leavenworth, and as I recall, Abe came from Europe. One of the details of the symposium which I remember well was a blast from the podium by a relatively young Brigadier General whose name I think was Herron, and who received more than polite applause for his observation that "Eisenhower was speaking politically and not factually when he observed to the American public that it was the G.I.s, not the officers, who won World War II, and that all Eisenhower would have had to do to get his facts straight was to have looked up the percentage of young Infantry Lieutenants vs. the percentage of young Infantry G.I.s who lost their lives in World War II trying to keep the battle going in our favor." I said to myself, "There goes that young General's chances for more stars." But I was wrong. Somebody either forgave him or overlooked what he had said. He received at least one more star.

But, as I started to say, it was late one evening in the Bachelor Officers' Quarters where I last met Abe Abrams. He was there with another Lieutenant Colonel named Cohen, ands the three of us sat together until the wee hours (with a bottle, of course) reminiscing about World War II.

Abrams and Cohen were a "team" in World War II. That is to say that Abrams commanded a tank battalion and Cohen commanded the motorized infantry battalion which always, or at least normally, worked together with Abe's tank battalion in what might be called a mutually protective or mutually cooperative manner.

On this particular night at Fort Benning, Abe made the observation that a team called "Abrams and Cohen" might well be mistaken for a Jewish vaudeville team of the 1920s or 1930s. He added that, despite their names, neither was Jewish.

Then came the interesting part of the evening - to me at least - when they both described in detail what happened during World War II in regard to the American advance to the Rhine River. The newspapers, of course, had described it as General Patton's daring advance.

Without telling anyone in authority what they were doing, they amassed plenty of ammunition, rations, fuel and other necessary supplies and, without notice or authority, simply "took off" one morning hell bent for the Rhine. Abe said that they hadn't gone too many miles when his radio began crackling and there was a message from his division commander to stop, and then there was another message, allegedly from Patton himself, which said, "Stop or face court-martial" or words to that effect. Abe gave orders that there was to be no response to these messages. He then went on to describe what happened when this armored/infantry task force approached the German military school which closely resembled one of our U.S. military schools. It was late afternoon and the students were just coming out of classes when he gave the order to open fire with the result that it was an academic disaster such as our military schools have not yet ever encountered. He then went on to describe a later situation where a certain unit of horse drawn artillery (believe it or not, they still existed in World War II) were going through some sort of exercises or training or whatever, far to the front of Abe's advancing task force, and behind a rather sharp defile in the hills. Apparently, the Germans in desperation, sought any possible means of stopping this armored task force from advancing through the defile, so they drove all their horse drawn artillery and some cavalry horses into the defile in order to blockade it. Abe said that he opened fire with everything he had and his tanks rode over bloody horse flesh through the defile. He added that he later wrote an article for the Cavalry Journal which he called "The Last Cavalry Charge," or something of that nature, which was not appreciated at all by some of the old time U.S. Cavalry Generals.

Finally, Abe and Cohen reached the Rhine and, according to Abe, he radioed to Patton to "either court-martial me or give me the DSC." He did receive the DSC for this unique and daring action.

REFLEXION: In time of war, when the public and the press are eager for tales of popular heroes such as Patton, they sometimes don't get all the facts straight.

After my tour of duty at the C&GSC ended in the Spring of 1949, I was assigned as a student at the Armed Forces Staff College in Norfolk, VA. This was a relatively short course, very pleasant and somewhat uneventful. Then came Okinawa.

Okinawa was one of the most important, if not the most important turning point in my life. It was there that I met the unusual and wonderful lady called Gerda, who has been my wife and my beloved companion for the past 40 years (and hopefully more to come).

I won't go into much detail about my service there, because it is relatively unimportant. I was initially assigned there as executive officer of the 29th Infantry Regiment under the command of a most competent officer - Colonel Rupert Graves. Eight or nine months after I joined the 29th, war broke out in Korea. The three battalions of the 29th Infantry Regiment were sent to Korea, leaving only the regimental headquarters as the nucleus for the formation of the new 29th Infantry Regiment. Very shortly thereafter, I was promoted to the rank of full Colonel and, since the regiment couldn't use two full Colonels, I accepted the assignment of G-2 (Intelligence Officer) on the General Staff of the Ryukyu Islands Command under Major General Beightler. His assistant was Brigadier General Harry Sherman, my old World War II commanding officer in the 7th Infantry. Harry and Gerda and I enjoyed many memorable Sunday afternoons and evenings together in his hospitable quarters on Okinawa.

I suppose the most significant result of my tour of duty on Okinawa, other than my marriage to Gerda, was the fact that, through my job as G-2 of the Ryukyus, I became intimately familiar with the Ryukyu Island chain itself (1,000 miles long), its history, its problems and its political as well as its military importance. This all led to my writing a document a couple of years later which proved to be one of the major factors, it not the major factor, in the return of the Ryukyus by the United States government to Japanese sovereignty. But more about this later.

Upon completion of my tour of duty on Okinawa, I was assigned as a student at the National War College in Washington, D.C. this was another important turning point in my life in the sense that my one year as a student at this most unusual institution and my later three years on its faculty had a most profound impact on my intellectual thought processes and on my views of the world in which we live.

A few weeks before the beginning of the school year at the NWC, my divorce from Jeanne Magill Moore became final, and I traveled to Tokyo and Yokohama to marry Klaara Gerda Ingeborg. Teresa Peet-Danielson, known to her friends all over the world as "Gerda". Gerda was the daughter of Edward Peet-Danielson and his wife, Sina Ida Klein, both of Estonian nationality and of Finnish/Swedish ethnic origin. Gerda's father, Edward, had been employed as a civil engineer in the city of St. Petersburg (Leningrad), Russia, by the then Czarist government, even though he was not a Russian, several years before Gerda was born there in November 1915. At the outbreak of the Russian Revolution in 1918, she and her mother and father made a most unusual trek eastward into Siberia to escape the turmoil of the Revolution and, some years later, made another unusual and dangerous journey back to their home country of Estonia.

As I indicated earlier, the National War College proved to be a very significant part of my adult life. It is important to understand that the name, "National War College", is and always had been, a misnomer. The various military services have their "War Colleges" (Army, Navy and Air War colleges) in which the study of war, in its many aspects, plays a primary role, and the study of political, economic and humanistic problems and theories are also examined in both national and international levels. At the so-called "National War College," there is almost no detailed consideration of the conduct of war. Rather, the primary emphasis is on the conduct of nations and peoples in all fields of thought and endeavor which might lead to stability or instability in the world.

Like many average Americans, I was pretty "set" in my domestic-political beliefs and fairly ignorant in my knowledge of such things as basic economics and international relations, to say nothing of the reasons underlying these relations, when I first enrolled in the National War College.

Although the modus-operandi of the National War College has changed somewhat over the years (and I'm not so sure for the better), the procedure at the time I served there was as follows:

(1) Five days each week a prominent member of the world community (kings, prime ministers, Parliamentarians, Congressmen, business leaders, labor leaders, educators, religious leaders, authors, media personalities, etc.) spoke to us in the auditorium for about an hour, following which he answered questions from the floor for about another half hour or more, and then proceeded to a conference room where 15 or 20 students and one or two faculty members grilled him or her once again on a more informal, relaxed basis. Thereafter, the speaker was escorted to the Fort McNair Officers Club for cocktails and a luncheon with about 10 or 12 students and faculty members where, hopefully, with the speaker's tongue loosened up a bit, he would tell us anything that he might have reluctantly omitted in his previous sessions at the College.

(2) At the time when I was a student, each student was required to turn in two papers or theses during the school year, each bearing on some problem area of the world, whether it be a geographical area or an economic, political or military problem area.

(3) Each Spring, the class of about 125 students (Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Coast Guard, State Department, Department of Commerce, and one or two other non-military departments) broke up into four groups to travel by air to various areas of the world - Europe, Asia, the Middle East and South America - where they met with the leaders (and frequently the leader) of each country visited. They discussed, both in formal and informal sessions, every conceivable subject or problem in the country concerned which might either directly or indirectly affect the security or well being of the United States. Upon return to the National War College, each group consolidated and analyzed what they had learned, and presented their report to the rest of the College. These trips were truly exhilarating experiences for all of us who participated in them.

I chose as the subject of my first thesis the plight of the Baltic states before, during and after World War II, with emphasis on Estonia, Gerda's homeland. This thesis, a copy of which is attached hereto, was originally classified "Secret" by the authorities in Washington, but of course, later declassified completely. I think it could be called a scholarly study of the Baltic states during a certain period of their existence, but as I re-read it today, I regret that I did not limit it to the country of Estonia, and that I did not go into much more detail regarding the very long and proud history of that country.

I find that very few Americans know anything about Estonia. They don't know, for example, that Estonians are the direct descendants of Mongolians who migrated westward some 2,000 years ago during the time of Ghengis Khan. They first settled in Finland, later sent some of their people to establish the country of Estonia, and finally encouraged still others of their people to migrate further south and to establish the country which is now known as Hungary. This whole migration was known as the Finnish-Ugri migration. Over the centuries, the Hungarians blended with the Turks and thereby lost many of their original characteristics, including their original language. I am told, however, that many words and phrases in the Hungarian language can still be traced to their Mongolian/Finnish origin.

Today (early 1990), the Finns are what one might call "half-free" from the Soviets, and the Estonians have once again in their long history been "completely captured" by a neighboring state, this time by Russia. They were completely free and independent for only about 23 years between World War I and World War II. Russia has taken extraordinary steps to try to Sovietize them so that no vestige of their proud heritage as a country will remain. For example, during and immediately after World War II, an estimated 50% of all Estonian nationals were either killed or exiled and replaced by Russian settlers in their country. But from what we can learn from various sources, the remaining Estonians still, after 46 years of Sovietization, refuse to be assimilated by the Russians, still retain their language, their customs and their pride of origin. Perhaps the only difference in their attitude towards the outside world ( and that of the Finns as well) is their disillusionment and their loss of faith in the theory or belief that the United States will always stand up for and come to the rescue of oppressed nations who have previously demonstrated their friendship and reliability to the United States.

My other student thesis at the National War College was entitled "The Problem of the Ryukyus." Basically, it dealt with the fact that the United States had taken the Ryukyus by force from the Japanese during World War II, and that the United States must, sooner or later, come to grips with the question of what the ultimate disposition of these islands should be. I concluded that they should ultimately be returned to Japanese sovereignty - under certain carefully prescribed conditions. I gave my reasons therefore, and outlined a step by step procedure for carrying out this conclusion. This theses was one of those chosen to be presented to the class and faculty in the auditorium of the National War College. Among the members of the class was a former Assistant Secretary of State under George Marshall - a West Pointer named Charles Bonesteel. He apparently "flagged" it to the State Department, who in turn "flagged" it to the National Security Council, because one Sunday shortly thereafter, I received a call at my home from the Deputy Commandant of the College saying that the National security Council had requested the release of my thesis to them the next morning, but that he was not authorized to release it without my consent. I, of course, consented. I learned later that it was immediately classified Top Secret. I also learned much later through two general officers who had served on the faculty of the National War College, that the thesis had been used, almost word for word by the National Security Council in drawing up the provisions for the return of the Ryukyus to Japan. They added that this was the first time a student thesis had been used in such detail for the purposes of drawing up a major U.S. foreign policy document. My thesis was returned to me at my request in 1984. It had been downgraded to "Unclassified" and is attached hereto. Sometimes, in my periods of reverie, I get a chuckle out of the thought that, if the Japanese Government knew the role I had played in the release of the Ryukyus to Japan, they might give me and Gerda a free Japanese sushi dinner the next time we return to Tokyo.

After graduating from the National War College, I had two experiences. Let me detail the first one first. Remember, this was at the height of the so-called McCarthy era, in which anyone in America might be accused of being a communist.

My first military assignment after graduation was to the Intelligence Section of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the Pentagon. I didn't particularly like this assignment for a number of reasons, one of which was that intelligence officers in the grade of Colonel were not noted for being selected for Brigadier General. But is was a logical assignment, since my last duty before entering the National War College had been Intelligence Officer for the American Command in the Ryukyus.

On the first or second day of my new assignment, I had just finished settling in to my new office in the JCS when, all of a sudden, there appeared a military policeman with a pistol in my office saying that he had been ordered to stand guard over me while I emptied my desk and my file cabinet and evacuated the office. I asked him what it was all about, and quite naturally and truthfully, he said he didn't know. I asked him to wait a few minutes while I went to the assistant director of the Intelligence Section of the JCS, an Army Colonel, and asked him what this was all about. He replied that the Director, a Brigadier General of the Air Force named Porter had ordered it because my wife was born in Russia. I laughed and said that, although she was born in Russia, she came from the most anti-Russian, anti-Communist country on the face of the earth, namely Estonia, which sacrificed at least 50% of its citizens to repulse communism. He had no comment, so I asked him if I could possibly speak with General Porter. He replied that the General had already told him that he did not want to talk to me. I never did meet this guy, but I have an idea of how he got where he was, and I often thought thereafter how wonderful it would feel to slam a fist against his nose.

For a few days thereafter, I was really desperate. I had to find a new job for myself. Fortunately, there were some cool heads in the Pentagon, heads which took the time to look into my background, but more importantly, to look in detail into the background of my wife, Gerda. What they found must have astounded them, because I was not only welcomed into the G-3 Section of the Army General Staff, but my security clearance was upgraded from "Top Secret" to "Q," an authorization to have access to the super secret atomic stockpile information. I was assigned to what might be called the "atomic energy" office of the Army under Major General Roper, given access to all the atomic stockpile information of the U.S. and designated as alternate representative to General Roper for the periodic meetings of the Atomic Energy Commission. If there ever was an example of how far afield the infamous McCarthyism went, I guess this might be it.

REFLEXION: No matter in what country - even in the so-called ultra-free-democratic United States - demagogues such as McCarthy can inspire both fear and panic in the populace, if left more or less unchallenged.

I spent quite some time in General Roper's office as his executive for atomic energy affairs of the U.S. Army, but one of the most interesting events during this time was a symposium which I attended in Chicago. During the symposium, I was introduced to the famous German, Werner von Braun, who has been variously categorized as the "father" of the missile age, etc. When I was introduced to him, he said, "Yes, I've met Colonel Moore before." I said I didn't think so, but he said he was never wrong in matters of this nature. I thought to myself, "What a typically arrogant German he is. He would never admit a mistake." Then, years later when I read a certain book, I believe it was by Michener about space, I suddenly recalled that I had once visited Fort Bliss, Texas, and that Werner von Braun was there at the time.

After serving a year or more as General Roper's deputy in the "Special Weapons" area of the Department of the Army General Staff, a new position opened up. I was assigned as Chief of the U.S. Army Training Division in the Pentagon. It was a reasonably responsible job. I had a staff of some 13 or 14 people, as I recall. We were responsible for such matters as training doctrine, training aids, opening and closing of Army training installations throughout the United States, etc. The Army, at that time, had a fairly substantial training budget, and one of my duties was to make recommendations regarding that budget, and to defend that budget no matter where it might be challenged, including Capitol Hill.

During my tenure of this office, I was directed to do a new study as to which U.S. Army bases should be continued and which should be closed. I did the study as objectively as possible with absolutely no thought of what the political implications might be. Almost at the top of the list of those posts which should be closed (under a strict economy program in which some would obviously have to be closed) was an Army post called Fort Carson in Colorado. It never occurred to me that I should not have made this recommendation because Eisenhower and the Governor of Colorado were close friends, or because Eisenhower's wife had deep family interests in Colorado. I knew only that Eisenhower and I had been trained at the same Military Academy where priority over everything was honesty and integrity in everything we might do in our professional lives.

In a sense, I was stupid. I wasn't smart enough to realize that, in the modern world, political considerations frequently take precedence over everything else.

During the period when I headed the training division of the Army in the Pentagon, I was subjected to a number of "feelers" as to how I felt about a number of subjects, all of which related to cutting the training budget of the Army. I reacted negatively in almost all cases, because I realized that this was not done in the interest of the Army, but rather in the political interests of a fellow named Eisenhower who happened to be President at that time.

One day, my senior civilian employee - as I recall, he had the rank of GS 12 or 13 - came to me, and told me that the had been approached by senior civilians in the Secretary of Defense's office, who assured him that if he would do everything possible to thwart my obstinacy against training budget cuts, he would be promoted to a higher grade. I convinced him to put this in writing, with the assurance that I would never use his testimony except in the most extreme circumstances. (I never did.)

Shortly thereafter, I was directed to appear in the budget offices of the Secretary of Defense, together with such members of my staff as I wished to have with me for the purpose of reviewing the upcoming U.S. Army training budget. I went there with four or five members of my staff prepared to discuss the training budget. From the opening moment of the meeting, it was obvious that the purpose of the meeting was not discussion or defense of the budget. It was simply to announce certain drastic cuts in the budget which we were told had already been approved. At that point, I stood up and said, "In that case, gentlemen, I don't know what we are doing here." And I led my group out of the Secretary of Defense's offices and back to our own offices.

An hour or so later, I was summoned to the Office of the Assistant Secretary of the Army. He very politely asked me to give him my view of what had happened. I told him and he again very politely told me that he thought I had been absolutely justified in walking out of the meeting. That was the end of my discussion with the Assistant Secretary of the Army. As far as I was concerned, this was the end of the incident. Little did I know how careers are made and broken in the Pentagon's internal squabbles and jostlings.

When I read my next efficiency report, I was completely shocked. The report itself, made out by my next superior in the chain of command, Brigadier General Hightower, was all that I could have wanted, but the endorsement by his boss, Major General Jim Gavin, G-3 of the Army, was absolutely devastating. Gavin, whom I had known for many years as a cadet and as a fellow junior officer in the Philippines was, at that time, bucking for promotion, and the 'flack' he must have received from the Secretary of Defense's office concerning my "walk-out" was obviously embarrassing to him and politically damaging to his own ambitions.

I sat down and wrote a letter to my own superior, General Hightower, saying that I thought that the endorsement of General Gavin on my last efficiency report was somewhat unfair. Unfortunately, and I suppose stupidly, I gave a copy of this letter (in confidence) to my long time friend, Colonel Charlie Stone, who was Gavin's administrative officer. He took care of all the paper work in Gavin's office. Charlie violated my confidence by giving Gavin a copy of my letter. Gavin, I was told, more or less went through the roof when he saw it. He called me in, made some accusations of disloyalty on my part, and had me re-assigned to Cambodia. To sort of wrap up this story, Charlie Stone went on to become a Major General; Gavin got his third star and undoubtedly would have gotten his fourth, except that he resigned from the Army ( or rather I should say retired) in supposed disgust with some of the actions of some of his superiors in the Pentagon; became U.S. Ambassador to France, and later, President and Chief Executive Officer of a prestigious U.S. firm.

REFLEXION: The actions I took in this mini-drama were perhaps justified in terms of logic and reason, but in the real world, one is seldom rewarded solely for logic and reason. If I wanted to further my career and become a general officer (which I did), it was completely mindless and politically naive for me to have behaved in the manner which I have described. In fact, had I been in General Gavin's position, I suppose I might well have reacted in much the same way as he did toward a politically reckless subordinate.

On the other hand, had I not made this obvious error in my military career, and had I finally gotten a star or two, I most probably would have missed the most interesting and rewarding part of my life, namely the opportunity to climb out of my relatively confined military 'cocoon' and experience a whole new world for the next fifteen years - the world of U.S. and international industry.

I have gone into more detail than I would have wished in this matter in order to dispel certain rumors and tales which may have reached my sons as to why my military career did not proceed further than it did. I hope this will provide the necessary clarification.

Cambodia was a most interesting assignment. Originally, I was slated to be the executive to the Chief of the Military Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG), Brigadier General George Lodoen. However, at the last moment, General Lodoen was taken ill and remained ill for several months. I had to assume the responsibilities of Acting Chief of the MAAG.

There was no existing MAAG in Cambodia at that time. I chased all over the Pentagon and other offices in Washington trying to find some literature or other guidance as to how one goes about establishing a MAAG. I found virtually nothing of value, so I had to play it by ear.

Although I was reasonably proficient in French, the first thing I did was to take a quick four-week intensive refresher course in that language, since I had to choose on arrival in Cambodia, between speaking French or Khmer in public meetings.

I was initially given a small staff to help me get the thing started - another Colonel, a Lieutenant Colonel, a Major and two or three enlisted men. We all proceeded to Cambodia where we checked in with the U.S. Embassy and started to plan the establishment of the MAAG.
The first thing we had to do was to find a suitable building for our headquarters and living accommodations for thirty some-odd military personnel who would constitute the MAAG. We found a large two-story building in downtown Phnom Penh for the headquarters, and took a long term lease on it. It was on a noisy dirty street. It needed repairs, refurbishing and furnishing, and it had no air-conditioning. I immediately contracted to have it refurbished, repaired, painted, and furnished with the necessary office equipment. Without authority from anyone, I contacted the local Westinghouse representative in Phnom Penh and contracted with him to completely air-condition the building. I knew from past experience that if I put the request through channels, it would take many months or more probably a year to get the air conditioning approved. In the meantime, we would have to work during that period in a hot, humid climate, with our windows open, our ceiling fans on, and the dusty dirty air coming in through the windows, together with the distracting ding-dong clang-clang-clang of Chinese funeral processions which passed by every day. I also rationalized that, since the U.S. Embassy was completely air-conditioned, we should be too.

It is interesting to note that when the first inspection team came out from Washington to Cambodia a few months later, they told me how close I had come to disaster in the matter of air conditioning the building without authority. They said the powers that be in the Pentagon had had two choices - either to take severe disciplinary action against me (perhaps a court-martial) or to simply pay the bill. Fortunately for me, they chose the latter option.

REFLEXION: The inherent weaknesses of government bureaucracy can sometimes be overcome by bold action, but it is a dangerous venture, unless, as in my case, you feel you have very little left to lose - career-wise - anyway.

As for accommodations for the staff, we didn't have many options. We finally chose a multi-room second story complex near the river and next door to two Cambodian economic enterprises. One was a place where they made a particularly piquant food sauce ( whose name I have forgotten), the smell of which, in the manufacturing process was nauseating, and the other was a tombstone factory, where the sounds of chiseling went on from early morning until late at night including, of course, Sundays, since we were in a Buddhist country. Our accommodations were not, what one might call "luxurious."

After a few months in this place, I was finally able to negotiate a contract for a suburban home for myself and my deputy. We were also eventually able to provide better living accommodations for the rest of the MAAG personnel.

The dining accommodations were interesting, to say the least. There was only one major European style hotel in Phnom Penh. It was French managed and French oriented, naturally, since most of the non-Cambodian citizenry of Phnom Penh were French. The food was not bad, nor was it particularly good. The service was what I supposed to be typically Colonial French. That is to say that the "silver" was seldom clean, much less polished, and when one complained, the waiter would simply pick it up, examine it, and then clean it on his dirty apron, and put it back in its rightful place. We Americans were somewhat awed by the fact that French people would always bring their dogs to the table and sometimes (although rarely, I must admit), let them sit up on a chair and eat from the table. To understand this, one must have lived in France, as I have, where dogs have a higher degree of precedence in society than they do in America. Who is to say which of us is right?

Our one source of recreation in Phnom Penh was the "Cercle Sportif." This was a French/European Club devoted to tennis, swimming, and social activities. There may have been some Cambodian and other Asian members. I don't recall, but if so, they were a tiny minority. This was where I and the other members of the Cambodian MAAG got our daily recreation. My tennis improved dramatically during that year and then tapered off to nothing, where it rests today.

Early in my residency of Phnom Penh, as Acting Chief of the MAAG, I was invited to the Palace to meet the King and Queen, and their son, Prince Norodom Sihanouk. The dinners and the after-dinner entertainment by the famous Cambodian dancers at the Royal Palace in those days were something to remember for a lifetime. Incidentally, one of the most graceful dancers of all was Sihanouk's daughter.

I should perhaps explain at this point that Prince Norodom Sihanouk had been the King of Cambodia before I arrived there, but for various political reasons, had resigned the Kingship, placed his mother and father on the throne as King and Queen, and had himself become Prime Minister.

Norodom Sihanouk, (or Snoopy as we sometimes called him - and I wouldn't be surprised if he knew his American nickname, it was a term of endearment and respect, not ridicule) and I had at least one thing in common. His hobby was playing the saxophone. He was quite good at it. As I indicated earlier, I had also been a reasonably successful saxophonist, as well as a clarinetist. "Snoopy" had a home on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, where he sometimes invited friends and acquaintances for an evening of fun with appropriate refreshments, a dance orchestra, etc. I attended one such evening there, along with U.S. Ambassador Rob McClintock and his wife and his deputy Mac Godley and his wife. I recall that in the wee hours of the morning, having imbibed at least my share of alcoholic refreshments, I disclosed to "Snoopy" that I was also a saxophonist and a clarinetist. I suggested that we try a duet. He picked up a saxophone and I picked up either a saxophone or clarinet (I've forgotten which at this point), and we picked a simple number to play together, but unfortunately, I had overlooked the fact that it had been too many years since I had performed with such an instrument, and the results, on my part, were not too good to say the least. Incidentally, Sihanouk averred that he did not speak English, so we always spoke in French. I note that he now speaks English on TV, and I wonder if he didn't speak it earlier.

On another occasion, when I was still the acting Chief of MAAG in Cambodia, we were visited by a delegation of U.S. Congressmen, among whom, as I recall, was Senator Mike Mansfield and some other rather prominent members of the Congress. I was invited to sit in as an observer at their meeting with Prince Sihanouk. I will never forget a part of the dialogue between the "all-knowing" Congressmen and the supposedly "naive" Prince Sihanouk. They put the question to him more or less like this: "You are a signatory of SEATO (southeast Asia Treaty Organization), as are we. Why can't Cambodia commit itself unequivocally, militarily as well as politically, to the defense of this treaty organization?" Sihanouk replied, "You are members of NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization) whose charter says that an attack against one is an attack against all. You are also members of SEATO, whose charter says, more or less, that an attack against one shall give the others pause to think about what they will do next. I am sitting here on the border of Communist China. I am very vulnerable, not only from the Chinese, but also from the Vietnamese. Give me the same positive assurance that you give your European NATO partners and I will listen." From my position as an observer and from conversations which I overheard later, I think most of the members of the Congressional delegation were somewhat non-plussed by this reply from a supposedly naive young Prince.

On still another occasion, Senator Everett Dirkson paid us a visit. He and a number of others from the Embassy and the MAAG were invited to the Royal Palace for dinner one night. Before dinner, Ambassador Rob McClintock had us all over to the Embassy residence for cocktails. Everett got pretty well "loosened up" during the cocktail hour and was obviously feeling no pain when we arrived at the Palace. We were first received in a rather spacious reception room where the King and Queen were seated at one end. Various members of the Cabinet as well as other members of the Cambodian Government were seated on the outer edges of the room. After having been presented to the King and Queen, Everett, walked over to one of the outer tables, and approached a man who happened to be the Minister of Finance and, within hearing of the King and Queen, asked for a light for his cigarette. After the minister had jumped up to give him the light, Everett bowed deeply and said, "Murchee, your Majesty," meaning of course, Merci, your Majesty. He was not knowledgeable or sophisticated enough as a distinguished representative of the United States to have said, "Thank you Mr. Minister," or "Thank you, your Excellency." To those present, it was somewhat akin to a distinguished European dignitary walking up to the President at a White House reception and saying, "Hi Buster."

Those nearby, such as I, were shocked, but not nearly so shocked as when we sat down to dinner in the Palace dining room. I estimate that there were perhaps 30 or more people at the long dining table. The Queen had excused herself, as she frequently did from such dinners, and the King's sister, a Princess, had taken the Queen's place at the center of the table, beside the King. The U.S. Ambassador, Rob McClintock, sat opposite the King, and Everett sat next to Rob. I was about three places removed form Rob and Everett, and there were a number of French dignitaries filling up the remainder of the seats, most of whom understood English, including English slang.

Fortunately, the King and his sister didn't. Shortly after being seated, Everett turned to Rob and, nodding toward the Princess, who had on a low cut evening gown, said, "Mr. Ambassador, have you ever seen a better pair of knockers?" It's sometimes hard to embarrass Frenchmen, but I think some of them were truly embarrassed that evening.

REFLEXION: What can I say, other than that prominent people are not always what they appear to be to the public, or perhaps a better way of expressing it is to say that even the most prominent public figures have human frailties, just like all the rest of us.

There are other memories I have of Cambodia. When Colonel Chan Armstrong, my deputy, and I started to assess the country in the first few days of our arrival in Cambodia, we enlisted the help of a couple of French aviators. I don't recall exactly what their status was, but in any case, they had remained in Cambodia after the French had essentially evacuated all of their armed forces. These two pilots, with their two-seater small aircraft were placed at our disposal for reconnaissance trips throughout Cambodia. They were exceptionally skilled pilots - almost too skilled for my taste. They flew Chan and me almost all over Cambodia, landing at small air strips here and there, sometimes virtually touching each others' wings and, on one occasion, flying straight towards two tall palm trees which were obviously not far enough apart to let the planes go between them horizontally, and at the last second, tilting to let the planes go between them with wings at a vertical angle. They were obviously trying to impress these two American officers with the skill of the French Air Force, and believe me, we were impressed and perhaps just a bit wary of flying with them too often. Incidentally, a few days after our country-wide reconnaissance trip, I happened to be at the Phnom Penh Airport at about noon time one day where I witnessed a French airplane mechanic on a stepladder with a wrench in one hand in front of one of the French aircraft and a bottle of brandy in the other. I decided at that time that any further reconnaissance of Cambodia would be either by land or by courtesy of the U.S. Air Force.

Several months later, after Brigadier General George Lodoen finally arrived in Cambodia and took over from me the responsibilities of being the Chief of MAAG, I settled into a somewhat dull routine as his executive officer. All the work of originally establishing the MAAG had already been done.

One incident comes to mind, however, which most certainly was not dull. It was the visit of Senator "Scoop" Jackson to Cambodia. He and his traveling companion, a one-legged young Assistant Secretary of the Navy, whose name I can't presently recall, arrived in Phnom Penh one day for the usual briefings and meetings to familiarize themselves with what was happening in Cambodia. Soon thereafter, they both expressed a desire to travel to Siem Reap in Northern Cambodia to see the great tourist attractions of the Angkor Wat and the Angkor Thom. For some reason, I was designated to go with them and act as their personal guide. I suppose that it was partly due to the fact that I had been there a number of times with other groups and knew my way around the area rather well.

I neglected to mention earlier that some time prior to my assignment to Cambodia, I had undergone disc surgery on my spine in Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington, D.C. As part of my recovery process, I had to swim quite frequently in the Walter Reed Hospital swimming pool. It was there in the pool where I first encountered Senator Jackson. He was also undergoing a 'recovery' process which included daily swimming.

When we met in Cambodia we both recalled where we had met before, and he explained to me why he had been in the hospital in the first place. He was recovering, he said, from a case of nervous exhaustion following the famous "McCarthy hearings" in the U.S. Senate.

In any case, "Scoop" and I and the young Assistant Secretary of the Navy occupied the rather "open-air" bar of the only European style hotel in Siem Reap the evening before our exploration of the Angkor Wat, with a bottle of brandy and the desire to communicate with one another. Senator Jackson asked me to treat everything he said that night in confidence, which I agreed to do, and which I still do, even though he has been long deceased. I don't think, however, he would mind if I stated that the information he gave me that night represented Senator McCarthy as one of the most reprehensible members of the U.S. Congress since the inception of that body.

Perhaps the most lasting memory I will have of Cambodia will be the long-standing Wednesday evening sessions we had in Ambassador Rob McClintock's residence, which were always fully attended almost to overcrowding by embassy and MAAG personnel. The subject was "Buddhism" and the teacher was perhaps the most renowned Buddhist teacher in the world, at least in our century, the Venerable Damavarra. A year or two later, in connection with his visit to President Eisenhower, his picture appeared on the cover of Life Magazine.

He was not invited to the Ambassador's residence to convert any of us to Buddhism, but rather to give us an understanding of Buddhism, where it is practiced throughout the world and what its precepts and teachings are. I found it most interesting and informative, as I am sure most of the audiences also did.

One of the lighter, almost humorous moments during the Venerable Damavarra's lectures had to do with the age-old subject of "contemplating one's navel." He explained that, although the expression has an element of humor in it, it can also be taken quite seriously. In times of stress, fright or anxiety, the human mind tends to flutter like a wobbling mirror from which one cannot get a true reflection. If one can bring the mirror to rest, the reflection from it becomes quite clear and realistic. The same conclusion, he said, can be made regarding the human mind. If one can only find the means of bringing it calmly and carefully to rest, the fears and anxieties which previously dominated the mind, tend gradually to disappear and the situation which caused these fears and anxieties in the first place can then be seen clearly and truthfully without distortion. He suggested that the next time we find ourselves under considerable stress, we experiment with the "contemplation of our navels." The procedure, he explained is as follows: "Close your eyes, rest your hand over our navel and note that with every breath you take in or let out, your navel invariably rises and falls. Erase everything else from your mind except the rising and falling of your navel. Every time it rises, say to yourself or out loud, 'rising,' and every time it falls, say 'falling.' After several minutes of this, more for some people than others, you will begin to feel a mental calmness and your nervous anxiety will gradually disappear."

One evening a few weeks later, when traveling in a small airplane through a violent thunderstorm, I experienced a considerable amount of anxiety. I decided to try the "navel procedure". You can believe it or not, but I swear that within 10 to 15 minutes with the plane still pitching about violently, I became as calm as though I were sitting at home reading a book.

The Venerable Damavarra's lectures were somewhat marred on two or three occasions by one particular heckler in the audience, a young man who was part of the Embassy staff. His heckling seemed to center around the theme, "If you don't believe in heaven or hell in the life hereafter, as we Christians do, it can't be much of a religion."

The Venerable Damavarra, an extremely patient man, finally replied somewhat to the following effect: "We do not say whether your theory of heaven and hell and the life hereafter is correct or not. As I have been trying to explain to you for the past several weeks, this question is, quite simply, not the central core of our religion. We have another theory concerning everlasting life which you have apparently not grasped. I might add that, although you Christians preach tolerance as a virtue, you do not always practice it in regard to other religions. We Buddhists do not preach tolerance to the extent that you do, but when it concerns other religions, we practice it."
REFLEXION: The moral principles on which all religions in the world are founded differ somewhat in the matter of who or what originated them, and they differ in how each of their own concepts of religion should be interpreted to the citizens of today's world. In essence, however, if one is patient and tolerant enough to examine someone else's religion and compare it to his own, there are differences in interpretations of morality, but very little difference in the universal concept of morality.

On the day of my departure from Cambodia, the U.S. Embassy received a large photo of the King and Queen of Cambodia in all their regal and colorful regalia, riding in a regal coach on the day of their inauguration. It was autographed to me and signed by both the King and Queen. I have no doubt that this was done at the suggestion of Ambassador Rob McClintock, but this gesture, as a departing memento from the Royal family, was very much appreciated. Unfortunately, the photo, because of its size and ostentation, would not be appropriate to hang in one's small apartment, and had we done so, it would have been somewhat misleading. The reason is that although I had been wined and dined and entertained at the Royal Palace a number of times, I only knew the King and Queen casually, certainly not intimately.

Upon completion of my tour in Cambodia, I was assigned to the staff and faculty of the National War College in Washington, D.C. It was a most welcome assignment because it was the most mentally stimulating duty anyone in the military service, or for that matter, the State Department or other government departments, could possibly have . My assignment was to last for three years. Imagine, if you can, listening to the world's greatest leaders, politically, economically, socially, religiously, etc., during their lectures, and participating in the give and take of questions and answers five days every week for nine months of the year for three years. Mind you, I had already gone through this for one year as a student. Now, I had the further opportunity to broaden my outlook on the world in which we live, and also to have some influence on who would be invited to lecture at the National War College, and thus broaden the viewpoints of several hundred more potential national leaders.

I took full advantage of my opportunities, sometimes in the face of opposition by other faculty members. Until this time, the National War College had been what one might call ultraconservative in the matter of whom it invited to speak to its students. In the field of industry, for example, we had always had some of the top industrial leaders as our guest speakers. I suggested that we also invite at least one of the most prominent labor leaders to address the College each year. This suggestion met with some very vociferous opposition on the part of the more conservative members of the faculty, but we did it nevertheless.

Our first labor leader speaker was a feisty little fellow, obviously of Italian origin, who was the head of the United Electrical Workers Union in the United States. He gave a most interesting lecture on behalf of labor unions in general and specifically on behalf of his particular labor union. He spoke in the language of his fellow unionists, which was not always grammatically perfect, but very impressive and very expressive of what he wanted to say to us. During the traditional question and answer period following the lecture, he really endeared himself to the audience. Although I can't recall any standing ovations given by this rather critical audience, the audience came very close to it. I understand from having talked to faculty members in later years at the National War College, that it is now more or less standard procedure to invite labor as well as management to address the College each year. It is most certainly correct that this should be so, because labor is at least as much a part of the basic fabric of American society as is management.

Toward the end of my first year on the faculty of the National War College, I acted as one of the faculty advisors of a student group of about 30 members during a trip throughout the Middle East.

It was a most interesting trip. When we visited Baghdad Iraq, for example, we met with various members of the government and the Cabinet, including the Prime Minister who made some rather interesting and, one might say, astounding comments to us. He said in effect, "You young Americans are about to visit Israel. We, in Iraq have absolute proof that Israel, together with certain friends in the United States, has devised a system to encourage individual donations to Israel from wealthy American Jews. The system functions like this: A U.S. citizen can donate say, a million dollars to Israel and get proper relief on his income tax for an authorized tax-free donation, but, and this is the important point, there will be an understanding between him and the Israeli government that only a half million dollars is to be actually donated to Israel. The other half million dollars is to be deposited in a secret numbered account in a Swiss bank to the credit of the donor. Thus, everyone concerned (except the U.S. Government) comes out ahead. Israel gets a substantial donation; the donor gets a substantial tax break, and the Swiss bankers get some additional business. You gentlemen can inquire about this when you get to Israel and, in case you do not get a satisfactory answer, you can again contact me if you wish."

We did inquire about it when we met with the Israeli Cabinet. We repeated exactly what the Iraqi Prime Minister had said. As expected, the charges against Israel were met with derision and laughter on the part of the Cabinet members of Israel. We never had a chance to follow up on the allegations of the Iraqi Prime Minister, because he was assassinated "allegedly" by opposition members of the Iraqi government, before we returned to Washington.

One of our most interesting meetings was with the Israeli Defense Minister, who assured us that Israel did not have, and would never have, any designs to annex territories outside of its then present boundaries. As we now know, this later turned out to be false.

We also had ample opportunity to talk with Prime Minister Ben Gurion, both in his office and as guests is his home. It was at his home that I took some "home movies" of him relaxing in his yard. I suppose the most interesting of our conversations with him was the one concerning the future of Jerusalem. Someone among our group - it might have been me - asked why Jerusalem, being a holy city to the Christians, the Jews and Moslems, could not be declared an international open city, so to speak, governed by representatives of all three religious factions. When that proposal was made, I thought that the relatively mild-mannered David Ben Gurion was about to have apoplexy. He turned red in the face, shook his finger at us and said, "You have obviously not read the Torah which says, 'rather my right arm than Jerusalem!'" A number of our group expressed the feeling (privately, among ourselves) that perhaps a long-lasting solution to the Jerusalem problem, eliminating religious hatreds and prejudices, might be worth a right arm or two.

From Israel we proceeded on to Pakistan and India, where we again met with the leaders of their respective governments. In Pakistan, we traveled up the Kyber Pass to the border of Afghanistan and sat in conference with government spokesmen discussing Pakistan's internal and external problems and especially their relations with their neighbor, India.

In India we not only saw the various sights in and around New Deli and Agra, including the Taj Mahal, we also had a most interesting session with Prime Minister Nehru and various members of his government. I acted as moderator for this session. (You will find in my scrap books a press photo of me seated beside Mr. Nehru during the session. You will also find another press photo of me, in company with another member of the NWC faculty laying a wreath on the tomb of Mahatma Ghandi.)

After India, our next stop was Eastern Saudi Arabia, where the Arabian-American Oil Company (ARAMCO) was our host. This again was a most interesting experience for most of us. Few of us knew the details of the relatively small enclave of American oil people in Eastern Saudi Arabia - how they happened to be established there in the first place, how they lived in a relatively strange environment, and whose commercial interests they served.

After ARAMCO, we proceeded on to Ryadh, the official government capitol of Saudi Arabia. (There are really two capitols of Saudi Arabia - Ryadh, the official government capitol and Jeddah on the west coast of Saudi Arabia, the commercial capitol, and the location of most foreign embassies.) At the time of our visit, there was a considerable amount of tension between the U.S. and Saudi Arabia. In the previous year, the NWC group had been received by the King, who dined with the group and gave a parting gift of a solid gold Rolex wrist watch to each member of the group, or so we were told. We were not so lucky. We, of course, met with top Saudi officials and discussed our two countries' mutual problems and interests. But the final dinner was held in a downtown hotel where our host was not the King, but rather the Crown Prince Faisal. We had a U-shaped dining table arrangement for the 60 or so American and Saudi guests. I sat at the head table to the immediate left of Faisal and the senior NWC faculty member (I believe he was the State Department representative on the faculty) sat on his right. I recall that the atmosphere was very formal and, one might say restrained, during the dinner. I don't recall whether Faisal and I conversed in English or French. Certainly it was not in Arabic, of which I know not a word. I do recall that our conversation was very limited, and no gold Rolexes were passed out at the end of the dinner. As history has recorded, Faisal was shortly thereafter to become King and then was later assassinated.

Little did I suspect then that I would one day be a frequent visitor to Saudi Arabia, representing a major U.S. corporation, and that I would again meet on many occasions with members of the Saudi government and members of the Royal family, including King Khalid, who succeeded Faisal on the throne.

Another suggestion which I made repeatedly at faculty meetings was that we invite the Soviet Ambassador to address the College and try to include Moscow on the itinerary of our annual Spring trips. It was to be assumed that the Soviets would reciprocate by asking the U.S. Ambassador in Moscow to address the Soviet equivalent of our National War College each year. I was unsuccessful in my efforts along these lines. There was just too much opposition from the ultra-conservative members of the faculty. I have since learned, however, that in the ensuing ears, it has become a rather standard procedure to have the Soviet Ambassador address the College each year and to include Moscow on the itinerary of the Spring trips.

My most successful endeavor as a member of the faculty took place one Friday afternoon at a weekly faculty meeting. Up to that time, we had always divided the student body into four groups of about 35 students each to go to one of four areas of the world on our annual Spring trips, namely Europe, the Middle East, the Far East and South America. After having done a fair amount of 'homework,' I gave a little speech at this particular faculty session, enumerating all the reasons why we should include the Continent of Africa in our annual Spring trips. At the conclusion of my presentation, after about five minutes of discussion, the Commandant of the College, Lt. General Harrold, said, "Okay, Colonel, we will have an African trip beginning this year. As soon as you can get the necessary air reservations, I would like to have you go completely around the Continent of Africa and make all the necessary arrangements for such a trip. Shortly after you return, you will be one of the two faculty members to accompany approximately 30 students on the trip. In the meantime, we, on our end, will make all the necessary arrangements with the U.S. Air Force for transportation of the group." I was initially somewhat surprised at the suddenness of this decision until I realized how logical it was. Africa, after all, in the very long run, will be as important to our national security as any other major segment of our globe, and it is high time that we begin to understand Africa, its history, its manifold governments, its problems, and its potential in the world of the future.

So, approximately a week later, with my bags packed (by Gerda, of course), I took off for a rather extended trip around the Continent of Africa. For some unknown reason, I had never realized how large Africa actually is. Like all of us, I had looked at maps, but had never fully comprehended that Africa is between 3-1/2 and 4 times larger than the United States. I landed first in my old World War II city of memory - Casablanca, Morocco, where the number two man in the U.S. Embassy, a recent graduate of the National War College, a Mr. Ford, took me in tow and made all the necessary arrangements for the forthcoming group visit without much effort on my part. In fact, his arrangements proved to be one of the real highlights of our trip, as I will explain later.

From Casablanca, I flew to Dakar in Senegal, where I made similar arrangements. Then on to Monrovia, Liberia, the African state established a century earlier by former American slaves, where they still use American currency as their medium of exchange, by permission of the U.S. Government. In Monrovia, I met President Tubman, a highly intelligent, politically savvy, cigar-smoking black man, who, at that time, had his country firmly under his control. He was very gracious in his reception of me, and made my short stay in his country very pleasant indeed.

From Monrovia, I flew on to Leopoldville (Belgian Congo - later called Kinshasha in French West Africa, which in turn is now called Zaire). I, of course, also visited Brazzavikle, across the river form Leopoldville, where I purchased a few rather unique native drawings.

In Leopoldville, I again ran into very hospitable friends (graduates of the National War College) in the top echelon of the U.S. Embassy, and my task of arranging for the forthcoming 30-man visit was made easy.

My flight from Leopoldville to Pretoria, South Africa, was aboard a Pan American flight, on which was a fellow passenger who was a Vice President of Pan Am. This was fortunate for me, because when we landed in Pretoria, I found that my baggage had been lost. Although we landed on a Saturday afternoon, after all the clothing shops had closed, the Pan Am Vice President took me downtown and succeeded in getting the largest men's clothing store opened for me. He gave me blanket authority (within reason, of course) to purchase new luggage and new clothes, toilet articles, etc., sufficient to see me through the rest of my journey around Africa, and to charge it all to Pan Am. I did just that, and needless to say, I had very favorable thoughts about Pan Am for several years to come. As a postscript, I might add that when I arrived home in Bethesda, Maryland, I found that my lost suitcase had arrived. I called Pan Am and asked what I should do about reimbursement to them. They said, "forget it." Another plus in my book for Pan Am.

Upon my arrival in Pretoria, I, of course, went first to the U.S. Embassy and, as in almost all cases throughout Africa, I was given the utmost cooperation. Our U.S. Ambassador put his Embassy personnel at my disposal to arrange, not only living accommodations for the NWC group, but also formal and informal luncheons, dinners and other meetings between our group and the South African authorities in Pretoria, Johannesburg and Capetown. Not only that, but they also arranged for me to meet with the leader of the opposition in the South African Parliament, Sir Villiers Graf. He was a most interesting character, besides the fact that he was highly intelligent and obviously a natural leader.

To me, with his rather kinky dark hair and dark complexion, there was little doubt in my mind (although I could possibly have been wrong) that there had been a certain amount of Negro blood in his forbears. Whether it was 1/16th or 1/8th or 1/4, I have no idea. This brings up a most interesting comparison between early American attitudes towards Negroes and South African attitudes. In America, if one had 1/16th or even 1/32nd Negro blood in one's veins, he or she was automatically labeled Negro. In South Africa, this question of racial heritage has, for many years, been quite different - not necessarily better - but different. In South Africa, for example, where there are three classes of people - white, Negro and colored (the latter including Indians, Orientals, etc.) the designation of one's race is frequently decided by the courts. If, after through government investigation of one's living habits, one's daily associates, etc., one is found to be acceptable to the white community, regardless of one's racial heritage, e.g., 1/16 Negro, the South African courts can declare one to be white. It can happen that a brother can be declared to be white, while his sister can still be classified as a Negress. Make no mistake - I thoroughly deplore Apartheid (pronounced correctly as apart-hate by a few radio and TV commentators, but incorrectly as apart-height by most of them). Our American 'system' of racial prejudice until quite recently, was little better, if better at all, than the South African 'system'. We Americans are now quite smug in the thought that we have largely (but certainly not completely) erased racial prejudice, whereas South Africa still has so far to go.

But, to get back to the purpose of my visit to South Africa, Sir Villiers Graf invited our National War College group not only to meet with him officially during our visit to South Africa, but also to partake of his hospitality in his home. I, and the U.S. Embassy made the necessary arrangements to accept his offers as part of our itinerary.

From South Africa I flew on to Laurenco Marques, capitol of Mozambique. It was a surprisingly modern and colorful city. The country of Mozambique was at that time under the control of Portugal. The number one man at the head of the government of Mozambique was a very affable and somewhat colorful retired Portuguese sea captain, whose name I have unfortunately forgotten. He offered all the amenities his country could provide to our NWC group, both in the way of physical comforts and in frank discussions of Mozambique's problems. I must say that, when we later visited Mozambique as a group, he more than lived up to all of his promises.

From Mozambique, I flew on to Salisbury, Rhodesia, where I was again given all the assistance one could expect from our U.S. Embassy, as well as complete cooperation from the government of the Rhodesian Federation (Northern and Southern Rhodesia at that time). I was absolutely amazed at the modernity, if that is the word, of Salisbury. First of all, it was a very modern and very clean city and apparently at that time, well organized and well governed. I particularly noted the abundance of public athletic facilities - tennis, swimming, criquet, lawn bowling, and to me, the most impressive of all, since I was a one-time polo player, the large number of polo clubs in this medium sized African city. I hate to exaggerate, but I think there were something like 10 or 12 polo clubs in this city.

I met both the Prime Minister of the Federation of Rhodesia (Northern and Southern), Sir Edgar Whitehead, and the Prime Minister of Southern Rhodesia, Sir Roy Wellensky, the former being a very sophisticated, highly educated, exceptionally well-informed public servant. The latter, Sir Roy Wellensky, was equally qualified for his position as Prime Minister of Southern Rhodesia, but he came from a completely different background. He was what we would call a "rough-tough type of guy" who, I was given to understand, in his life time had been both a good prizefighter and a good railroad engineer. Both agreed to address our National War College group, and both did so, with remarkable effectiveness. They were very impressive indeed to a highly critical and well informed audience.

But, I tend to get ahead of my story, which is really my exploratory trip around Africa in preparation for the student trip to follow.

My next stop was in Nairobi, Kenya. Those were the days when a fellow named Jomo Kenyatta was the leader of the Mau-Mau colored terrorists. Jomo was later to become Prime Minister of a new-born Kenya. Sir Evelyn Baring was the Governor General at the time of my visits.

The U.S. Embassy arranged for accommodations for our group visit and accepted, on my behalf, the invitation of Sir Evelyn Baring for the leader of the group and myself to be his personal guests at Government House (his living quarters) during the class visit. Sir Evelyn, I learned during my subsequent visit as his house guest, was a cousin of Queen Elizabeth. He and Lady Baring put the group leader (a Major General) and myself up in Government House in great style and were the most gracious host and hostess we could imagine during our two day stay.

My next stop was in Abbis Abbaba, Ethiopia, where I went through the same procedure as in all other African countries. There was nothing special about our visit to Ethiopia at that particular time in history, so I won't dwell on it.

After Addis Ababa, I flew to Cairo, where, once again, I met a senior member of the Embassy, Alexander Schnee (Lex) who had been nominated to be a member of the next class at the National War College. It was an interesting stop on my journey throughout Africa. Lex made all the necessary arrangements for the upcoming NWC visit to Cairo in record time. Apparently, his family was absent from Cairo at the time, and he invited me to share his bachelor apartment with him for one night, and then asked if I would like to meet some interesting people. I said, "let's go." He then added that we would have to speak French all evening, and asked how my French was. Fortunately, I was able to tell him that it would probably be adequate to the occasion.

He drove us far outside the boundaries of Cairo into the countryside. I don't recall in what direction we drove, but I think it was at least 20 or 25 miles outside the city limits. Finally, we encountered a man with a rifle, in Arab garb, who stopped us and directed us to a side road where, again after a brief journey, we encountered other armed Arabs who finally directed us to what might be called a fairly lavish estate where we found a party in progress. There were many attractive people, the best food and drinks, and some music. My friend, Lex, immediately proceeded to introduce me to the hostess - a Princess - the sister of King Farouk. Since Farouk had just been ousted from his throne, and the new Egyptian government had not yet decided what to do about his relatives, I immediately understood the reason for secrecy for such a meeting as this. All the guests were obviously either friends or sympathizers with the Royal family. It was a very delightful evening, and my French proved to be adequate, thanks to a lot of practice in Cambodia and elsewhere. I don't know what eventually happened to the Princess and her coterie of friends, but I suspect that she, and possibly some of them, moved shortly thereafter to someplace more congenial.

The party broke up shortly after midnight, and Lex and I started to drive back towards Cairo. On the way back, Lex said, "How would you like to meet still another interesting person tonight?" I again replied, "Why not?" He stopped at what was obviously a very large, well lit, fairly elegant night club. When we went inside, he spoke briefly to the manager who escorted us to a table where an elderly couple were seated. Lex introduced them to me and then said, "You are about to meet Nadia Gamal, the world's foremost belly dancer. This is her mother and father." Sure enough, we did meet Nadia, who came to our table after her performance, and I was again impressed by the variety of Lex's friends.

My last stop on this preliminary trip around the continent of Africa was in Tunis, Tunisia. There I had an appointment with President Bourghiba. When I was shown into his office, he addressed me in French, saying that he had been advised that I spoke French. I replied in French that I did, although not as fluently as I would like. He indicated that my French would suffice, and we proceeded from then on to outline the schedule for the NWC group when they would visit Tunisia a few weeks later. I always suspected that President Bourghiba, like Prince Sihanouk, probably spoke quite adequate English, but they never gave me a chance to find out.

A few weeks later, our little group of about 30 students and faculty took off from Washington for Africa in Vice President Nixon's plane. Jet passenger aircraft were not yet in vogue at that time. It was a Lockheed four-engine propeller job with twin tails. I've forgotten the nomenclature of this aircraft after all these years. It was reasonably plush, especially for only 30 people.

I was asleep in one of the beds when we were about two hours outside of Casablanca, Morocco, when one of the four engines suddenly conked out. (I seem to have had a predilection over the many years of my military career for getting on aircraft whose engines conked out, but I also had a lucky predilection for landing safely at all my destinations.) The U.S. Air Force flew out a spare engine, and with only a minimum delay from our established schedule, we were on our way again around Africa.

I won't go into a lot of detail about this, our first NWC trip around Africa, except to say that it was a successful trip in every respect.

When we were in Leopoldville in the Belgian Congo and its next door neighbor, Brazzaville, French West Africa, we predicted that it would be a long time before these countries would win their independence. In Leopoldville, I met up with a young native (colored) man whom the Belgians called an evoluee. That is to say that they had examined his living habits, his work habits, his education, the fact that he spoke several languages, including English, and that, therefore, he could eventually "evolve" into a Belgian citizen. He came with me in a U.S. Embassy car and showed me where he had been allowed to live, now that he was a bona fide evoluee. He could live in a small house just outside the edge of the white community, where conditions were somewhat better that in the black community, e.g., his house was tapped into the community water and sewer system so that he could have running water and flush toilets, but he was still one block outside the electricity boundary, and could therefore, not have electric lights or other electric facilities. He also told me that he and his children had been "generously" granted the right to higher education by the Belgian government.

This young man took a terrific chance in showing me what the actual conditions were for blacks - even highly privileged blacks - in the Belgian Congo. The point he was trying to make - and did make quite effectively - was that the Western nations, particularly Belgium and France at that time, who were trying to impress us with their magnanimity toward blacks in their African colonies, were not really magnanimous at all. They were simply trying to hold onto their long-vested African interests in a changing world.

We, members of the NWC group, felt that he was probably right, but that it would take many years, perhaps decades, to convince Western European colonizers that he was right. How very wrong we were! The Belgian Congo and French West Africa were free and independent within a very short time, for reasons best known to Belgium and France.

So much for my four years at the National War College - one year as a student and three years as a faculty member.