This is Post #12 in the Series of posts “Going to Afghanistan”

Occasionally it is wise to clarify the progress of a story lest the important points are somehow missed in the passing.  Let us review what we know and add a bit of what at the time was perhaps unknown or even unknowable.

FWC is in Amritsar, India on September 27th of 1958, the date he was scheduled to arrive in Kabul, Afghanistan.  Unfortunately the plane, an Indian Airlines DC-3, has compass problems and cannot leave Amritsar.  Then adverse weather keeps the necessary parts from being flown in.  By Monday, after the events of the weekend, Fred decides to write a book or play describing the ordeal with the title, “Week End in Amritsar”.  In time the weather clears, the parts arrive, the compass is fixed and then, alas, more adverse weather keeps the newly repaired plane grounded.  Time passes, the weather does not.  FWC contracts diarrhea (at the time called “Delhi Belly” by the Americans in the region, but the name does not so easily apply as this is Amritsar).  In his distress he now contemplates changing the book title to “Weak End in Amritsar”.

Finally, on October 1, after a five day delay the Indian Airlines plane is ready for its early morning departure to Kabul.  On October the first Fred finally leaves Amritsar, India bound for Kabul, Afghanistan on Indian Airlines.  As the plane approaches Kabul the pilot is informed that he cannot land in Kabul before the Aeroflot plane carrying Russian president Voroshiloff (President of the USSR / CCCP), who is on a state visit to Afghanistan, lands.

The Russian plane is not expected to land before 12:00 noon, the pilot of the DC-3 is told, so the Indian Airlines plane cannot land in Kabul in the AM.  Fuel is an issue.

The situation is further complicated by the fact that Indian Airlines can over-fly Pakistan on flights between India and Afghanistan, but cannot land at any Pakistani airports.  But, no one knows whether the plane has a right to re-enter Pakistan’s airspace without actually landing in Kabul.  Eventually instructions from Indian Airlines managers in New Delhi, India dictate the obvious, the flight must return to Amritsar.

Pakistan does not object (owing probably to an imminent coup which might be jeopardized by an international air incident) and will allow the plane to return to Kabul after a second departure of the day from Amritsar; this one in the early afternoon.

About 3:00 PM in the afternoon the Indian Airlines DC-3 finally arrives in the air above Kabul Airport and proceeds to make the customary three low passes over the dirt runway to scare the various wandering and grazing donkeys and camels from the approach path and off the landing field.  At 3:30 PM FWC actually does land in Kabul.  He is met by Snyder, Swanson, McGuire and Sharma of the United States Operations Mission (USOM / Afghanistan).

Despite aircraft mechanical failures, heavy winds, torrential rains, intestinal distress, Russian diplomats and Afghan diplomacy, international air protocols, pending coups, wayward donkeys, nomadic camels, and windblown dirt runways; Fred W. Clayton has arrived in Kabul.

Epilogue:

All traditional cities in Afghanistan were surrounded by a wall.  The city walls had no less or greater function for the city than the wall of a house has for the family at home.  Each house has at least one door, often more, the Pharsi word is “darwaza” which is also used to refer to the door (or gate) of a city.  In Qala Bist virtually all that is left of the city is the arch, the door, now forever open, for there is nothing left to hide, or steal, or rust, or rot or take away save a few potshards, coins and broken bits of weaponry.  Maybe there are still bones in Qala Bist, there probably are still bones.

Today the gates of our cities (in the United States) are guarded by the gates of Homeland Security and their cameras and their sensors.  Every person must pass through a gate in a distant city before being
permitted to pass through the portal of the destination city itself.  Sometime there are delays.  There is a pecking order regarding who is allowed through first.  It may at first seem that things have not changed in this world so much after all.

But, what Fred experienced was not overtly planned and organized by any given government or person.  It was more like an initiation, or an initiatory step that would encapsulate everything that one would need to know about Afghanistan before even setting foot in the place, provided that everything IS knowable; at least in metaphor or symbols, which as cell phones prove is a language so much more efficient that our own.

He immediately knew that there was something there, a story or a book or play or play on words and more, but almost as quickly events overtook him; the situation became overwhelming, Amritsar was becoming everything and “everything” seemed in the way of the goal which of course seemed to be Kabul at the time.  What might have been learned if he had of made his way to Lahore, learned more then of Kashmir, lingered longer at the Golden Temple or taken one of another thousand roads less taken?  He would probably say, “nothing” and add, “which is why I did just exactly what I did”.  And in that, maybe he would be right.

[Post originally written:  2010.03.04 / Thursday - A brief vignette]

This is Post #11 in the Series “Going to Afghanistan”

AIR LETTER - AEROGRAMME
VIA AIR MAIL - PAR AVION
Pre-stamped U.S. Postage 10c Air Mail letter and envelope.

Addressed to:
Mr. Fred W. Clayton
American Embassy - USOM Kabul
Department of State Mail Room
Washington 25, D.C.

Typed letter #2:

September 30, 1958

My Darling Fred,

Your letters have been most interesting - last received was from Hong Kong.  We appreciate the time you have taken to write them.  You did not mention the big typhoon which hit Tokyo just after you left.  We are glad you saw the town before the damage was done.

We’ll be looking for the pictures.

I have continued to work on clearing the yard to the limit of my strength.  The whole side yard is cleared and a temporary fence relocated. (probably quite permanent) and the north yard is also cleared.  I have not yet done the clothesline yard nor the two rear yards.  Maybe I’ll have space for a sketch of some changes.  I’m a little bit behind schedule because of troubles getting things rototilled, but it is now half done.

Some of the packing troubles are beginning to show up.  I had particularly left you the slim scissors and given myself the heavy yard one so I could cut down lilies etc.  It seems I have the slim one (a duplicate of one I have here) and I can’t find the heavy yard one at all.  What are you going to do without the slim scissors I had left for the Afghanistan shipment?  Also I had put 100 informals in the home box and now I can’t find any.  I wanted them to write Burris and Melarkey and others.  200 went to Afghanistan in another box.  All I asked you to do about scissors was add one sewing one to the home shipment, and this was done nicely.

Weather here has been exquisitely just right.  There are signs that this could be a very golden fall.  Donald was looking at a very bright big dipper this evening.  Days are so delightful I wish they would never change.

Kenneth came out as one of two in Carson High on the Scholarship Qualifying Test for Merit.  Now he takes college board and fills out papers and if he keeps up his average, he is in.  Keezer and he had identical final scores, in the 99th percentile.  10,000 semi-finalists represent ½ of 1% of the high school seniors.

I haven’t done anything in the yard yet that I regret.

(Yard diagram showing changes in planting and layout)

Washington bank balances came today and saved my life.  I love you so very much and look forward to your letters with such interest

Sweet Dreams and Happy Wishes.
Lloydine, Don & Ken

Notes:  In this age of consumer excess it is hard to remember that in the 1950’s there was still a shortage of manufacturing capacity and hence a dearth of stores to sell the stuff that was wished for, but not yet made.  Much of the European, Japanese and Chinese manufacturing capability had been leveled by the war; blown to bits by American bombs and bombers and laid waste by the invasions of “enemy” armies.

Hence, from automobiles to toasters to scissors America (its industry untouched by the war) was supplying most of the worlds needs; prices for consumer items were high and there were still in 1958 shortages in almost everything, everywhere.

Hence we have a small spat about scissors; expensive and hard to replace.  Frugality and thrift as well as scarcity and practicality dictated a careful planning about what one did, not a “buy it - charge it” mentality.  One can always cut the spring flowers with a knife, but the use of scissors is better if one has had the luxury of scissors.  In Afghanistan flowers were seldom cut at all although one might note that even today the cultivation of the opium poppy calls for knives, not scissors.

The “Carson House” at 405 North Roop Street cannot be found today on Google Maps.  The streets have been renumbered.  In 1958 the house was still on the east edge of town, only Pratt Street was further out.  The lot being cleared bordered Telegraph Avenue, named because that is the route Bee’s Telegraph took as it made its way to Fort Churchill (the lines were gone in 1958 as most of Fort Churchill was gone too; but the name remained as a moniker of history.

The house was a 1905 era model home for a subdivision that was never built because the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake destroyed the bank and the wealth that was going to make the sub-division possible.  We owned the house and the empty corner lot next door.  Someone built a carriage barn and small stable at the front of the property when it became clear that the hoped for streetcar line would not go in.  It was painted red.  Later as automobiles became the rage a grease pit was added beneath the wooden floor where before only horses had tread.  Kenneth used the garage to work on his 1908 jalopies and 1912 model cars that he bought and sold for $10 to $20 in his hands-on training to learn about the ways of modern cars.  When one would actually be made to run it was a miracle, but he was still 16 then and his father was in Afghanistan - a bit too far away to help.

The north yard had grass and flowers.  The front had two great cottonwood trees, one on each side of the green painted walkway.  Further north (north of the barn that faced Roop Street) was another lot (more the field), also empty where we housed our horses when we had them.  They had been sold when we moved to Washington DC so the field was now really empty.  The old riveted hot water heater on its side with its top side cut off  (the water trough for the horses) was still there and a half eaten salt lick left behind the day the horses were sold.  I tried not to notice such things.

I had raised chickens in the chicken house, also painted red.  It had a low roof, mice, uncollected eggs that I had missed when I scoured the hen house for the morning meal of eggs and in my case duck eggs from my two white ducks.  The chickens and the ducks were gone now, the building was still there, its gone now though so don’t look for it on Google.

There was a chicken yard south of the chicken house next to the dirt alley.  It had high wire to protect the birds from the other birds - the chicken hawks.  South and west of the  chicken yard was where we would shoe the horses; we hired someone, we didn’t have the tools.  It was in the horseshoe yard that the propane tank was located, mentioned in the last Lloydine letter; it was next to the alley, really more another lot as no one lived behind us and no one lived very near going north and then far away across this emptiness to the east was Pratt Street and the Lynch’s.  I thought you should know.

Between the back door of the house and the horseshoe yard was the clothesline yard.  This was where I made mud pies and got stung by wasps if you’ve read the post.  But I was younger then, five and not in 5th grade.

It’s a lot like trying to describe Qala Bist when it was a city and not just a wasted and forgotten place.  The memories are still fresh, but so many places gone; If only one could find a letter from Qala Bist; “gone to America and this is the way it was the day my father left”.  “Please don’t steal the postage or history will never know.”  Communication is a two-way street; one must listen in order to learn.

The house is on the National Register now, for Historic Homes.  The registration is about the house, not Fred or me or Lloydine or Ken.  Others lived there too.  Exchange students: Panzi from Burma, Guy from Belgium, a nice young woman from Finland - I need to find her name.  And others owned the house and lived there both before and after us; but it was Our House for awhile and now the street (Roop) is very busy and the house houses offices and one day bulldozers will tear it down and there will not even be a gate that’s left; but we are not there yet.  There are still more words and letters.  The postman still knocks twice.

[Post originally written:  2010.02.28 / Your letters have been most interesting]

This is Post #10 in the Series of posts “Going to Afghanistan”

Air tissue writing paper:

Amritsar, India
12:00 Noon - 27 Sept. ‘58

My Darlings,

Here I am at the holy place of the Sikhs about twenty miles from the Pakistan border and not too far from Kashmir.  The weather has closed in and the planes’ compass is broken so the flight is grounded until tomorrow.

Lahore is just over the border in Pakistan but since I have only a single trip visa I won’t be able to go there.

It is cool here but extremely humid.  The rains fall continuously.  However it is better here than in Delhi.  I understand that all the passengers will be housed in a guest house tonight.  Right now I think I could sleep for a week.

Air tissue writing paper:

Sunday 28 Sept. ‘58

This letter was interrupted yesterday by lunch and now I just finished breakfast.

Yesterday afternoon I visited the Golden Temple of the Sikhs.  I suppose I took too many pictures.

Seven of us had dinner together here last night.  Three Germans, two Americans, one Italian and one Scotchman.  The dinner conversation was fascinating.

Must close now and get ready to go.  All my love,
Fred.

Air tissue writing paper:

Amritsar, India
Tuesday, 30 Sept. ‘58

My Darlings,

Today I’m still in Amritsar!  The experience here is worthy of consideration for a play.

“Title”:
“Week End in Amritsar”.

Cast of Characters:
Fred W. Clayton - bound for Kabul, of Carson City, Nevada.
William Fox - returning to Kabul after a fortnight in Kashmir, from San Francisco; son of “Jack” Fox  former General Manager of Columbia Steel

At this point the letter writing was obviously interrupted.  The page was used to record an address:

Mrs. P. Bhandari
No. 10 Cantonment
Amritsar, India

Air tissue writing paper:

In the Air
Wed. 1 Oct. ‘58

My Beloved,

Someday I’ll write a book or play entitled “Week End in Amritsar!

After staying in Amritsar since Saturday we left for Kabul this morning only to find that Indian Airlines cannot land at Kabul this morning so we are returning to Amritsar.  I don’t know when I’ll get to Kabul.

I’m fine and hope you are.  Time in Amritsar is spent trying to arrange transportation to Kabul.

All now, Love Fred.

To appreciate the situation one must remember that Afghanistan owned much of northern India before the British overran the subcontinent.  The jewel of this domain was arguably Kashmir which the Afghans always regarded as occupied territory, especially the more Moslem part also called Jammu.  While the Afghans succeeded in driving the British out of the areas west of the eastern mountains they were not able to drive east through the heavily fortified Khyber Pass and retake Jammu if not all of Kashmir.

During negotiations preceding “India Independence” Afghanistan made a clear case for the return of the area now known as Jammu.  What emerged was a rejection of an orderly withdrawal from India by the British as the rival politics of Hindu and Moslem politicians in India vied for control of the new nation state.  The Moslem parties, centered mostly in Lahore moved to wrest a Moslem Nation from what was British India that included the areas claimed by Afghanistan.

In time it was agreed (because of no other agreement) that India would be partitioned with a “Hindu” India in the middle and a “Moslem” India taking lands to the east and west to be named West Pakistan and East Pakistan.  Needless to say the Afghans were furious; Afghanistan was an ancient nation-state indigenous to the region, Pakistan was little more than an inflammation of extremist political ideas and groups hardly worthy of even the term “parties”.

In what probably was the greatest exodus of populations in the history of the world, modern or ancient, millions of India’s Moslems moved west and east, millions of India’s Hindus moved toward the center.
This transmigration not only resulted in millions becoming homeless, the migration radically reshaped the
population profile and politics of the areas around Lahore and further west and south.  The emergence of Pakistan in western India was very much like the emergence of Israel in what was Palestine; it was made possible by a huge influx of people who did not historically live there or at least had not for countless centuries.  The Afghans and those religiously and ethnically most affiliated with the Afghans were often displaced, often deprived of property and power.  This generally occurred without justice, fair compensation, or remuneration.

By 1958 this whole double-cross of negotiations and the travesty of Pakistan came to be summarized and simplified as Afghanistan’s ongoing claim to “Jammu”.  This claim put Afghanistan and Pakistan at odds and made Hindu India, enemy of Pakistan, Afghanistan’s friend.  There was no “hot war” between the two though for the entire time that I was in Afghanistan there was a perception on the streets that a hot war could break out.  There were difficult situations.  A plane leaving India for Afghanistan was allowed to fly over Pakistan, but could not land there; hence one either entered Afghanistan (in the east) through Karachi or one went to India and flew over Pakistan to Afghanistan.  When Fred’s plane was refused the right to land in Kabul it had no choice but to return to India and to do so before the fuel onboard was too low to make the return flight.  Further, Indian Airlines had no right to fly between Kabul and Kandahar; only Ariana Afghan Airlines had that route so landing in Kandahar or any other Afghan city was also not an option.

[Post originally written:  2010.03.01 / Monday - Amritsar]

This is Post #9 in the Series of posts “Going to Afghanistan”

Air tissue Hotel writing paper:

Hotel Imperial - New Delhi, India - An Oberoi Hotel
Cables & Telegrams “COMFORT” New Delhi - Telephone 47111 to 47119

27 Sept. ‘58

Dearest Lloydine, Ken and Don,

It is 5:15 A.M. and I am waiting for Breakfast.  At this time of the morning it is served in ones room only.

Last night “Mother India” almost had me down.  India is the acid test!  India is the France of the Orient!

Breakfast

The service was good.  A tea table wheeled into the room.  The coffee pot covered with a ‘tea cozy”.  The ants from the kitchen came along too so I had a bit of company.

The world is bright and cheerful this morning even though my reservation for Kabul has not been confirmed.

Last night while I was checking on the ticket problem the airport bus left with my suit case, my brief case, and coat but without me!  At the hotel only my suit case was unloaded.  I had to take a taxi to the hotel and then another to get my things.  Everyone was excited and helpful but anything but direct and forceful.  I was patient and now there is organization for the moment.

Off for Kabul.

Lots of love, Fred.

Fred takes the hotel bus to the New Delhi airport and boards an Indian Airlines DC-3 for his flight to Kabul via Amritsar, India.

[2010.03.01 / Monday - France of the Orient]

This is Post #8 in the series of posts “Going to Afghanistan”

Air Mail Envelope with air tissue Hotel writing paper - Two Dollars Hong Kong postage stamp with the head of Queen Elizabeth, purple ink with royal crowns and swastika motifs in the corners.

Hotel Miramar - 134 Nathan Rd. - Kowloon, Hong Kong
Cable address “MIRAMAR” Telephone No. 61261-9

26 Sept. 1958

Dearest Lloydine, Don and Ken,

Thought I might write on the plane coming down from Tokyo but it was so late they turned off the lights and everyone slept.  Hong Kong has built up in the last seven years.  There are many new buildings, newly paved streets and twice as many people.

The Miramar (hotel) is quite satisfactory.  It too has expanded but it is still reasonably priced, neat clean and comfortable.  It is not fancy.  After talking to a couple who were married in Kabul I decided to get a suit of clothes here.  I get twenty-four hour tailoring service but have been tied down because of fittings.

I’ve met a Dick & Jane Koken from Salem, Oregon and San Francisco who are going to New Delhi as mentioned before.  Last night we had dinner together at Aberdeen’s  on Hong Kong Island at the world famous floating restaurant.  The Kokens have invited you to stop for a visit in New Delhi.

I could write a book about my trip so far.  Wednesday I visited Pacific Architects in Tokyo where I saw their operations.  We have many mutual acquaintances including Grafton.  We had lunch in the old part of the Imperial Hotel.  I’m completely captivated by the Old Imperial.  It has charm and feeling beyond description short of a whole book.

At three o’clock on Wed. I went to she Suehiro in the Telecommunications in Japan.  He was delighted!  The Ministry then sent him a big Packard to take me sightseeing in Tokyo!  We drove by the Imperial Palace and up to the main gate.  We  saw parks, famous Ginza Street and Tokyo University.  Finally we had a snack in a Japanese restaurant!  You should see me handle chopsticks.

This morning it is raining.

I’m sending my first roll of film.  I hope I have some pictures.  Without this new camera I would not have had light enough for most of my efforts.  I hope they aren’t too bad.  I’m sure I’ve muffed some of them.

I must close now and pack for today’s’ flight.

I wish you were here and that we could travel together.  Lots of love.
Fred & Father

The Miramar is very near the much more magnificent Peninsula Hotel, which really was expensive and snobbish even then in a way that only British grand hotels could be.  He could have stayed at the Peninsula, but probably remembered too well the story about when Bing Crosby was thrown out of the Hotel Vancouver because he did not have a Tux to wear for dinner.  Fred lived for five months in a hotel just about across the street from the Vancouver when he was working in Vancouver B.C. on the new trans-Canada gas line project immediately after his return from Burma.

The “I could write a book” theme followed Fred throughout his life.  He had the experiences and talent to justify and write no end of stories but engineering always came first in the economy of time.  Another factor is that Fred was left-handed and found it difficult to write longhand which is why his letters are often short.   He never really learned to type, his fingers were short and wide, his hands large and the typewriter keyboards were designed then for the women (and their hands) that did most of the western world’s typing.  The keyboards and computers of today might have made all the difference in enabling Fred’s’ writing life, but they came out too late to make a difference.

My transcriptions of his brief notes and letters will have to do.

Note:  There is of course the other half of this trip to Afghanistan; the life and letters from the family left behind.  Every invasion of Afghanistan for the last two thousand years has involved these families left behind, not invited to march with Alexander or participate in the founding of Kandahar.  Tamerlane’s troops had families too, and the followers of Genghis Khan and the British “Kiplings soldiers” and the Russians more recently - they all had families back at home, waiting for the life and death decisions, waiting for their loved ones to return or to be told of an often unmarked Afghan grave.

But now the US ships its bodies home.  It did too in 1958.  There was always risk of death in the foreign service; civilian or military doesn’t matter; the dieing is all the same and it is a basic tenant of Orthodox Mohammadism that one cannot predict their time and place of death.  That was the outrage of the “Persian” poet Omar Khayyam when in the Rubaiyat ones own death was predicted.  Omar Khayyam was an Afghan by birth, he was born in Afghanistan.  The Omar Khayyam Restaurant in San Francisco was long one of the cities best, to even go there was a special occasion.  The inspiration for the Grateful Dead music group logo and first cover was taken directly from the most popular printed version of the Rubaiyat.

However, I wander and I digress.  The point is that the family left behind, in this case “Lloydine, Don and Ken”, continued a life in America that was now increasingly overshadowed by life (or the possibility of death) in Afghanistan.  There was no Twitter then, no web; telephone calls were almost impossibly expensive; daily contact could only be made by mail, and even by air mail was always delayed.  Messages would cross and miss over the Atlantic or the Pacific or get stopped in Karachi or a field office someplace else or maybe even get lost in the Department of State Mail Room - Washington 25, DC.

A waiting wife may be patient, but she must also be brave; more so if she has children.  It is for the home fires why people fight, or for Empire.  Wives can understand the home fire part, Empire not so much.
It may be argued that it is the mans’ work that is important, his life, what he does each day.  The TV Show Madmen set about this same period of time argues differently, argues the case for women in New York; big houses or more single girls, glamorous and romantic.  It really wasn’t like that in the big picture, it’s the little pictures that make the series work, the household things, the fads, the “I remember that” toaster in the corner.

Lloydine might not have been an average wife, but she lived a life more typical than those that lived in the east.  There was the expression then, “a typical New Yorker” or “A typical easterner” which was a stereotype of course, constituted “profiling”; perhaps even had a religious bent, a cultural bias certainly.
The point is that Lloydine lived in the west, in Nevada and had deep California roots with no small measure of Oregon, spiced with a bit of Kansas (but Kansas may or may not be west).  If you find her letters portray women a bit differently than Madmen you are probably right or you get my point (or something).

Anyway, the letters begin on September 26, 1958.  They represent “her” side of the story; her being Lloydine and not necessarily me, though I am mentioned fairly often, at least in passing, maybe more often than I realize.

The lyrics to “West” can be found under January of 1922.  Needless to say they didn’t build a Broadway Play around the lyrics but the Song and poem were wildly popular when Hoover (a Californian, westerner, and engineer) was President which is probably why the Dust Bowl people went west, not east, when everything fell apart.

The letters may be accessed by using the Index to the left and locating the year and month.  To read the letters in order read them by date.  Otherwise the story continues here.

[Post originally written:  2010.02.28 / Sunday - Hong Kong has changed, but it’s more about Tokyo]

This is Post #7 in the Series “Going to Afghanistan”

AIR LETTER - AEROGRAMME
VIA AIR MAIL - PAR AVION
Pre-stamped U.S. Postage 10c Air letter.

Addressed to:
Mr. Fred W. Clayton
American Embassy - USOM Kabul
Department of State Mail Room
Washington 25, D.C.

Typed letter:

September 26, 1958

My Darling,

We think of you often and try to plot your trip.  We know that you are practically there by now.  Everyone says it is such high adventure.  I hope it proves out to be that way.  We love you so much.

I have been devoting myself to the weeds too strenuously; but time is so important right now.  With all my work I still have not quite removed them all from the big lot.  (That is all I am thinking about for the first unit.)  Yesterday I got all burned to date.  Also I got a good man to dig and transplant for me mornings.  He will return today.  He can run a rototiller so we will get that Sunday and he will do it.  I was having trouble getting someone with time to do it for me on contract.  I’ve ordered seeds from Alberts and some fertilizer.  Anything will be better than nothing and on a job basis the planting would be worth $300.00  I think I can manage it for $100.  Depending upon the budget, I may buy new fencing for around 70.00.

Weather has been generally nice with one blowy day.  On the 24th it went to 24 degrees so all the garden went then.  The day before I had picked the squash and put up 21 pints.  I have a lot of carrots to dig and freeze too.  Also there is more squash I picked after the freeze if it is good yet.

Other people have mentioned the open house with regrets, Bill Dial, Marge Russell (gov. was out of town).

I’m paying back your political debts.  I won’t go to work for the state for a while since Marion Clayton asked me to be in charge of manning the Ormsby Co. Republican headquarters, a job which the Republican women usually handle.  Margaret Folsom who was to do it was taken very ill.  This will start right after I get the lawn in and last through the election.  I am sure I am completely crazy, but they were so desperate for someone to do it and showed such faith in my ability to organize.  I’m doing it for Charlie and Molly, since they came through for you.

Yesterday I ordered a loin of beef at 79 cents lb. - about $60.00 worth of mostly steaks.  Hamburger is 59 cents in safeway and lean beef 89 cents so I decided it would be nice to have on hand.  I’ll feed those boys.  I am buying ahead now and will live off the larder as the months go on.

I wrote for the bank balance and sent the insurance policies and for a car insurance refund.  Some money should be coming in pretty soon.

Kenneth plays Manogue tonight so we will all go.  He has been practicing at right tackle, but if Gurilani does not pass the biology test today, Kenneth will have to play guard.  He was coaching him last night, in biology.

Carson Nu-gas says we need a new valve for the rear heater; so I ordered it (they have their ways.)  Hohman took cash credit for all gas in tank - I left ½ a tank.

Our pictures from Saturday night are just grand, all of us.  I am going to enjoy it and order a few extras for Garwoods and you.  You can see “cheese” on every one of the faces.

Donald is fine and no trouble with school - guess Washington wasn’t so bad after all.

Martin just wrote to say he did not get Naps and is now confused again.  No explanation.  Poor boy.  He was in Rhodes and thought it was lovely.  Health was fine.

Stokes got their wood and garden tools and about everything yesterday.  The box from Washington came.  My mother has not found the suitcase yet.

Time to tell you once again how much I love you and miss you.  I subscribed to air Newsweek for you from Janet (8th grade project).  Fortune for Kenneth and Children’s Digest for Don.

Lloydine

Notes:  Marion Clayton is not a relative.   Marge Russell is the wife of Charles Russell, Governor of Nevada.  “Charlie and Molly” refer to Governor Charles Russell and US Senator from Nevada Molly Malone.  Manogue is Manogue High School in Reno, a private Catholic School; Ken played football for Carson High School when Carson City still had a population of only about 3,500 people.  “Naps” is the US Navy Aviation School, Martin was serving on the USS Randolph, an aircraft carrier and he had applied to train to become a pilot.  “Rhodes” refers to the Island in Greece.  The missing suitcase was lost by Greyhound buslines on Hemme’s return trip from Washington in August.  “Janet” refers to Janet Lynch, daughter of John and Illona Lynch, the family were near neighbors and long time friends.  I don’t believe the Newsweeks ever made it to Afghanistan, but I got my Children’s Digests in Carson City just fine.  Finally, I don’t know if Gurilani passed the biology exam; but I do know that the price of beef has gone way up.

[Post originally written:  2010.02.28 / We think of you often]

This is Post #6 in the Series “Going to Afghanistan”

If one were to go to Afghanistan today one would probably fly through India.  In that, things have not changed too much.  The difference is that one would have maybe one stop in-between the US city of departure and ones arrival in New Delhi.  Fifty years ago things were quite different.  A trip to Afghanistan was not just about Afghanistan, it was about the trip there.  There would be many stops in ones journey “half way round the world”; one would change planes, stay in hotels overnight; visit the sites in each city along the way if there were time.  This was why people traveled.  This was also why people took jobs that enabled them to travel.

Tuesday - 23rd of September, 1958 - 1:19 PM Tokyo Time:

“It has been a good flight.  Very smooth and quiet all the way.  Tokyo weather is reported overcast and 67 degrees Fahrenheit.  Customs promises to be simple.  Landing cards are filled out.  Fred and Father”

Almost exactly 35 years after the September 1st 1923 earthquake Fred Clayton enters Tokyo.  He was (almost) ten when he first heard about the Tokyo earthquake that had “leveled Tokyo”, killed 91,000 people, destroyed 83,000 homes and damaged 380,000 more.  This in addition to the tens of thousands of commercial buildings lost.  It was the Tokyo earthquake that had first inspired Fred to become an engineer, he vowed, “I will go to Tokyo and help rebuild it.”

The one notable “commercial building” that survived the earthquake was the Imperial Hotel, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and completed in 1916.  The hotel was undamaged.

Needless to say Fred did not get to Tokyo in time to help rebuild the city .  By 1958 the city had been rebuilt, again destroyed by American fire bombing, and again rebuilt.  Amazingly the Imperial Hotel still survived.  The second time it was because it was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, American, and the US bombers were given strict orders to keep away.

Imperial Hotel - Tokyo
Wed. 24 Sept. ‘58
5:30 AM Tokyo Time

“I’m staying in the new section of the Imperial Hotel.  It is as modern as the Holiday (Hotel) in Reno
And the most modern big hotel I’ve stayed in.  Much nicer than anything in New York.

Money - $10.00 = 3,682 Yen.  Airport Bus 480 Yen, 20 Yen tip.  Room 2,900 Yen plus 10% tip.

I haven’t bought a meal yet so can’t tell you how they are.  I arrived at the hotel about 4:00 PM yesterday.  As I was very tired from the 20 hr. flight from Seattle I took a big hot bath and went to bed thinking I’d get up later and have dinner.  I awoke at 12:00 midnight so went back to sleep.  When I awoke at 5:00 AM I felt rested.

This is an interesting room.  The light fixtures are all fluorescent and the lamps all have Japanese lantern shaped shades illuminated with both fluorescent and incandescent bulbs.  The chairs and bed stand and the bed are made of white oak.  The writing table, dressing table and coffee table are mahogany with a light finish.  The casements  and doors are of pine.  The walls are covered with beige cloth with gold leaf figures.  The ceiling is also covered with beige cloth.  All interior corners have cording instead of molding.

All table surfaces are plastic.  The wardrobe closet doors are framed in oak and paneled in matching wall cloth.  The floor is carpeted wall to wall in green.  The outside wall is almost all window with double glass about 6” apart.  The room is completely air-conditioned.

Tokyo air terminal is modern and beautiful too.  Out of my window I see a double track electric elevated railway about a block away.  Structures of any size express earthquake resistant design and are more satisfying than structures on our own east coast.

Yesterday was a holiday so I didn’t miss any contacts as offices were closed.  Tonight I leave for Hong Kong.  More about Tokyo later.  Must pack, dress, and eat now.  It’s raining outside.  Love.”

It was not a good day for pictures.  There was the rain, there was the heavy overcast.  35 mm film for slide cameras was still expensive and hard to get; there were only so many rolls allotted for the trip and the trip was young.  There would be no film available in Afghanistan.

Fred started taking slides when he left for Burma.  He bought a new Kodak camera and pointed it out the airplane window directly at the rising sun at Wake Island and clicked the shutter.  The instructions that came with the camera said “never do this”.  He did.  I still have that first picture, “Dawn at Wake Island”, it’s still a beautiful shot.

His “Burma Slides” became somewhat famous in a limited sort of way.  My parents gave colored slide shows about Burma in the days when even Life Magazine was black and white and the National Geographic still had pictures in that 1950’s print media sketchy color.  A lot of his photographs were taken for technical reasons, to show how things worked or how things got done or could get done.  Buildings, bridges, and transportation were also always big; but he also enjoyed taking pictures of people, of the everyday people doing everyday things in their everyday clothes - living life and working, or just being sometimes.

For Afghanistan he bought a new camera, a Nikon, a really nice Nikon in those days; nothing like the cameras now, but pretty good for 1958 and for Afghanistan and for a few pictures of Tokyo in the rain.
The Imperial Palace - click.  The U.S. Embassy - click.  The Capitol Building of Japan - click.  Frank Lloyd Wright’s now “Old Imperial Hotel”, click, click.

[Post originally written:  2010.02.27 / Saturday - Approaching Tokyo]

This is Post #5 in the new Series “Going to Afghanistan”.

Lloydine is Fred’s wife, Lloydine’s mother is Hemme.  Hemme lives in Gilroy, California.

Pre-stamped Air Mail Envelope - 6 cents postage, red stamp with outline of DC-6
1 Cent Green George Washington stamp added - postage rates have gone up.

Addressed to:
Hemme Martin
149 N. Forest St.
Gilroy, California

Return Address:
405 N. Roop St.
Carson City, Nevada

Typed letter:

September 23, 1958

Dear Mother,

Thank you for your two letters which have come here.  We started moving into the house (home) on the 17th .  I don’t have a calendar, but anyway.

I think I got here the 8th , a Sunday, and was met by Kenneth and Donald and moved into the place they have been staying.  The house wasn’t vacated the 15th as it should have been, but finally became available the 17th , even though stuff from outside was not yet moved.

Fred arrived here the 17th after a busy time with more meetings in Washington and getting the last minute shipping off to Afghanistan.  It included 2800 lbs. Of our stuff, old and new.  Everything else had gone into storage before I left.  The car sailed away before he left Washington.

Fred was here Wednesday until Sunday and we had a busy time.  He helped unpack many boxes because he was hunting for things he wanted to take.  We both enjoyed being in the house and seeing our things again.  The weather was wonderful the whole time.  We were out every night and everyone was so gracious to us.

Mrs. Clayton had come to Reno with Donald on the 27th .  Sunday morning we had breakfast here with all the Claytons, who had gathered to see Fred before he left - Mrs. A.W., Al and Denez, Elsa and Jerry, Deanie and Charlie, Cecelia, Dick, Kenneth, Donald, Fred and Lloydine.  Martin was the only missing one .

Immediately after breakfast Fred left for the plane.  Mrs. A.W. went as far as S.F. with him.  The girls and their husbands returned to their vacation spot at Longbarn.  Nevada people all returned to local homes.  It was a busy time.

Fred is now on the way, arriving the 27th at Kabul.  He went to Seattle, then Tokyo, Hong Kong, New Delhi and Kabul.  He hoped to stop by Rangoon.

The house is in quite good shape inside.  Outside it is FULL of weeds.  I have been pulling them frantically, but still much to do.  I want to get more lawn in before the weather turns cold, hence the haste.

I seem to have a million things urgently needing to be done all at once.  Time will straighten everything out.

How much was that geiger counter?  Or is it gone too?  Kenneth wanted to know.  I think he wants to try it on Afghanistan, or Nevada.

Kenneth came out above the mid point of the 99th percentile on the nationwide SQT (Scholarship Qualifying Test) given last spring.

He is busy playing football every evening and on scheduled Saturdays.

We are going to get ourselves organized eventually.  We always enjoy hearing from you.  Let us know how things are.

Love from all of us.
Lloydine, Donald, Kenneth

Notes:  The car that “sailed off” was the families 1955 (Ford) Mercury Station wagon, color white.  It was shipped via Norfolk (or Baltimore) to Karachi (Pakistan) via the Suez Canal where it was driven to Peshawar, Pakistan and was then picked up by Fred, who drove it west through the Kabul Gorge and into Kabul.  The car was sold to another American family moving into Afghanistan in 1960.  It is my belief that the car, or its remains is still somewhere in Afghanistan; so if you have any information about the whereabouts of a 1955 white Mercury Station wagon in Afghanistan, please let me know.  I’m sure the car has had more adventures than are imaginable, given the rather repetitious life of freeway and suburban driving typical of most American made cars.

Mail service into Gilroy was always slow, something about the San Jose (California) post office operations at the time.  It took one day to get to Reno, another to get to SFO and out.  The next 100 miles of the journey took perhaps three days, sometimes more  - the bottom line is that Lloydine wrote this letter assuming that Fred would have arrived in Kabul by the time the letter was received in Gilroy.  Such would not be the case.

As to the stop in Rangoon.  Fred had never been back to Burma since he left in the spring of 1952.  He had never seen the passenger building that was now complete; built by someone else - the one that involved the family waiting and then wintering in Tahoe as the government of Burma changed and changed plans.  In 1958 Burma refused to issue him a Visa and then refused to even let him off the plane in Rangoon at the very airport that he had helped build.  They would not even let him see the Terminal Building in question; they classified him officially as “persona non grata”, a “person not welcome”.  In all his subsequent travels he never returned to Burma and never saw the Rangoon Airport fully completed.

In case you have deeper suspicions about the Geiger counter to Afghanistan comment let me put your mind to rest or perhaps worry it more.  Geiger counters were used then to search for uranium, or to detect the residue from a fairly recently exploded atomic bomb.  Nevada students knew all about Geiger counters then given the fact that the state had the AEC (Atomic Energy Commission) test site and also had various patches of more naturally occurring uranium, in deposits mostly, or deposited for future use, or deposited over the Nevada-Utah border and its communities in a very deliberately calculated “mistake”.

Kenneth had a passing interest in all these things, and possibly in getting rich by discovering uranium in a place where just maybe no Geiger counter had ever gone - Afghanistan.  Or maybe it was more about the Moghul tests, the Russian nuclear test site just north of Afghanistan and an interest in whether Kabul might be a little bit contaminated; “sock it to the Reds; they can’t treat Afghanistan like the US treats Utah and get away with it.  Inquiring minds want to know!”  OK, maybe I made the last part up (inquiring minds really don‘t want to know), but you get my point - there are only two good reasons for wanting to haul a Geiger counter to Afghanistan when you’re 16, a top scholar and a football jock all rolled into one.

As to the source of the Geiger counter.  They were still pretty rare in 1958, not everybody had one.  I don’t think even REI or Wal-Mart sells them now.  They are not the sort of thing that has a mass-consumer appeal or fits easily into a back-pack with your special climbing shoes, your granola bars, your butane stoves that weight just 3.5 lbs.  But Hemme had one.  It was the kind of thing that her kind of 71 year old grandmother of three should have, would have, and did have.

She was a geologist of sorts, a rock hound by avocation, a mineralogist by trade.  She had a running correspondence with scientists in the Smithsonian, at Stanford, in other places - about rocks mostly, and minerals, and the forces of nature that made diamonds hard, sandstone soft and lead akin to gold if you shed (or add) a few orbiting electrons.  She was the one that pointed out that Nephrite Jade was native to only China, but it was found in carvings from Mexico, interesting stuff for the times; interesting theories.

She hauled the Geiger counter to Kansas just to check out the old family farm (nothing radioactive there).  She hauled it all around the great American west, holding out the probe, listening for the tick - tick -tick.
Had the government been there, or would it go there soon?  Her theory on what made the US government “tick”; don’t ask and I won’t tell.

So Ken was seeking to do nothing more than his grandmother had done before him; travel light with a Geiger counter, check things out, write a few letters maybe if something interesting were found.  The only problem (then) - perhaps the “geiger counter” was lost; maybe it was stuffed in the lost bag with Hemme’s other stuff; and after all - maybe that is why the whole bag went missing.

[Post originally written:  2010.03.14 / Dear Mother]

This is post #4 in the Series “Going to Afghanistan”

Fred’s title was “Transportation and Industry”.  Most economists would argue that Industry comes first; evidently they have never “hoofed it” to get a job and don’t really understand these posts.  Transportation does come first, the discovery of America, immigration and emigration, soldiers shipping off to fight the local rebels in Concord or Lexington; it’s all about transportation.  In the US west it was walking and wagon trains, paths, the trails and roads and then railroads.  With the railroads came Empire, “the Empire Builder” is I believe still an Amtrak train.  And then there were ships, Columbus and the Chinese ocean going Junks before them - Spanish galleons, British steamers and Men of War.  With Orville and Wilbur Wright or the Russian guy who might have come first or the guy in Grass Valley, California that might have been even sooner a new mode of transportation took off; became airborne; changed the way we spoke and thought and thought about the world.

In this regard there are two things that one must know about Afghanistan.  First, Afghanistan is and always has been land-locked; one cannot get there by the sea; no oceans wash her shores, there are no shores.  Second, there are no trains in Afghanistan although there are reports of a few miles of track once being laid in Kabul during the British occupation.  Finally, in 1958 there were no paved roads in Afghanistan outside the six or seven major cities.  These three realities had for a century helped keep the country free and for at least the past eighty years free from war.

If one had to (or wanted to) go to Afghanistan one would pretty much have to walk in, often with the aid of camels, sometimes with donkeys.  In Afghanistan the horse was generally associated with authority, wealth, and war for the thunder of hooves for centuries had almost always meant a new invasion.   And the land itself was a defense, like Switzerland Afghanistan in the north and east was protected by the mountains, in the south and west the desert did the same; the nation is a lot like California without the coastal Pacific Ocean.  This is perhaps why even in 1958 so few from the western world had been there and why so few Afghans had ventured west.

ICA wanted Fred in Afghanistan in a hurry, so naturally he flew.  There were after-all now four dirt runways in the country; where even a DC-3 could land and maybe on a good day a DC-6 could land in Kandahar or Kabul, with the proper approach of course and with pretty much perfect weather.

But before I try and explain the history of aviation of the 30 years before 1939 when the DC-3 was functionally invented and the 20 more interesting years of aviation from 1939 to 1959 and then try and tie it all in to Afghanistan I should make this point:  When it comes to flying, everything changed with 9-11 and the invasion of Afghanistan that started with the B-52s bombing (Fred’s) Kandahar International Airport.  During this time we saw the birth of Homeland Security and the universal screening of passengers and bags; the requirement of IDs before one was allowed to travel; the end of the airline industry as people had come to know it.

Fifty years ago airplane travel was quite different.  People talked of “Prop-lag” as the concept “Jet-lag” had not been invented.  People did not complain of any “lag” when flying even across the Continent, say Washington to LA - flying was still exciting, special.  One was well-fed on the planes.  There was silver plate silverware and white cloth tablecloths even on a short flight like from Reno to Sacramento.  And, well first-class (invented by Western Airlines) was even something more, often including full sleeping berths and endless Champaign if one wanted it - and some did.  The US flew their diplomats first class in 1958, the airline flown was supposed to be an American flag carrier if available.  Fred had the Field Service Officer (FSO) rank of a diplomat so he flew first class, something new to him.

Flying across the Pacific was not new to Fred.  He had flown to Burma on a Pan Am Clipper (Queen of the Skies) in 1951.  At 251 MPH one did experience prop-lag flying across the Pacific, flying at lower altitudes, flying against the weather with four giant propellers chopping relentlessly hour after hour against the wind.  Matters were made worse by the fact that Pan Am (Americas foremost overseas airline) still wasn’t flying into Tokyo and as a result was island hopping across the Pacific to Manila which is the long way across the Pacific if one knows their geography.  Great Circle routes are much shorter and therefore faster.  The short distance between Tokyo and San Francisco is through Seattle and then up and out over the Aleutians, the tip being more or less Shemya (Alaska).

The Manila galleons of Spain leaving from Acapulco went north to go west (a shorter route, not just an effort to follow the coast).  And of course the Japanese knew about Great circles, which is why they started their attack on the United States mainland at Attu, within sight of Shemya.  There was no commercial airfield on Attu in 1958, but refueling could occur at Shemya which is why Northwest “Orient” Airlines landed there, to refuel on the way to Tokyo.

But, before going to Shemya, one had to board the flight in Seattle.  “Northwest’s Flight #1 is delayed until 1:00 AM so I have ample time here.  I had dinner with a couple bound for New Delhi.  We’ll be together as far as Hong Kong.  They are also staying at the Miramar.  Their names are Dick and Jane Hoken and they have been to India before.  Dinner was courtesy of Northwest so I had my steak.  I registered my camera with Customs and inquired about the need for listing the tape recorder.  I don’t have to register the tape recorder.”  Letter of September 21, 1958, excerpts.

Tape recorders were still mostly a consumer novelty in 1958.  Most American-made recorders on the market didn’t work.  Fred anticipated a wide variety of potential uses for a tape recorder in Afghanistan so he asked around for suggestions from those in ICA.  Their response was that there probably were no tape recorders in Afghanistan so it would be unwise to use ones limited weight allowance to take one as nobody was there (in Afghanistan) to fix it when it (inevitably) broke.  Other people answered more directly, citing the brand-name of Norelco, a Dutch company affiliated with the North American division of Phillips.  He bought the recorder, the size but not the shape of a very full flight bag, while still in Washington and carried it on the plane to Reno and continued to hand-carry it across Asia to Afghanistan.  It was probably the first tape recorder in Kabul outside a few owned by the Afghan government.  It never needed repair.

Northwest landed its westbound planes in Shemya at about noon Pacific Standard Time; the time in Shemya was different and only knowable if one left the plane and went inside the very small and dreary Northwest Airlines cement block hut and carefully studied the large institutional type clock on the wall.  Then, while recovering from 10½ hours of prop-lag and after contemplating which side of the International Dateline one was on one might look at the clock and try to guess what time it was in Tokyo or Seattle or someplace else that mattered.  Shemya time did not matter.  There was nothing on Shemya except the airfield, the radio tower, the block house and some very important underground fuel tanks which without their aviation fuel one perhaps would never leave Shemya.

The block hut had a very simple refreshment counter and a few tables at which one could write, “It is raining and 47 degrees Fahrenheit in Shemya.  Another eight hours will put us in Tokyo.”

The letter was mailed in Seattle by Nortwest Airlines two days later - Shemya didn’t even have a postal cancellation stamp.

[Originally written 2010.02.27 / Saturday - Transportation and “Industry”]

This is Post #1 in the new Series “Going to Afghanistan“.

Notes on the new Series:

Each new post in this series will appear first in the most recent “2010″ date which automatically posts the most recent post at the top of the screen in this Word Press based website.  The individual letters can also be found under the date that they were originally written.

However, if one wants to read the posts in order it is not intuitive or practical to have to “scroll down” to the last post (which is the first post in the series) and then read down to read the post and then scroll up to read the next post by reading down again.  Therefore, the Series Going to Afghanistan will be presented as a continuous “read down” series of posts in the Going to Afghanistan Series found under Categories: on the sidebar.

The original versions of these posts had few links and no pictures.  This new series will have new links and pictures.  The photographs when posted will show at the end of each post.  Links are evident by a word or word phrase that appears in a rust color within the text.  Click on the link with your mouse if you think you may be interested.  The “Back Button” arrow icon should get you back to where you were before you clicked the link.  Each photograph will have a Title.  “Scroll over” the picture to find this extra information.  Often if you click your mouse on the picture there will be a portal to even more information.

An effort is made to select links that do not have distracting advertisements.  Links with Public Domain content are preferred to those sites that may obscure the public domain origins of their content by failing to clearly identify their sources.

It is difficult as well as repetitious to link every name and each item each time it may appear.  This brings us to the Indexes and Tepplines (time lines).  The Indexes are alphabetical lists of names with brief “thumbnail” type descriptions and permanent links that connect to more and often more detailed information.  Tepplines may be found by accessing a Teppline post based on the first date of an event.

Adding content to and improving this series and this website is an on-going event.  Things should be getting better every day.  So even if you have read each post once you may want to check back from time to time to see what might be new.

Just a reminder:   The content on this website is copyrighted based on the actual date of posting unless there is a specific statement that the specific item or specific content is a part of the Public Domain.  All “old” letters and photographs published on this site have not been previously published unless a specific statement to the contrary is made.  All rights are reserved by the author of this site.  For information regarding obtaining a higher resolution version of a photograph please email the nature of your needs and your intent.

Links to this site, “Qala Bist.com”, or to an individual page are always welcome.

So we here and now are about to begin the new series; but first one might want to revisit the first post on this site - “The Happy Baker” to get a feel of what one might expect.

Going to Afghanistan

~ “In the beginning” - but in a country with a five thousand year history there really are no new beginnings.

I went to Afghanistan because my father went to Afghanistan.  My parents and I were living in Washington D.C. at the time, my father was with the Federal Communications Commission (FCC); Assistant Chief of the Common Carrier Bureau to be exact.  It was the beginning of February 1958 and Washington being Washington people run into each other and my father, Fred W. Clayton, “bumped into an old Burma hand” and they began talking.

It is an old story; this story about going to Afghanistan and how and why.  There are at least a dozen versions, rewritten at least fifty times if only in my mind.  The problem is that it’s always so hard to say when the story really started, when that path “less taken” was first trod upon and whether the story is really more mine or his or just more about Afghanistan itself.  It’s hard to put a face upon Afghanistan, it is too old and too complicated and too remote in time.

America is different, it has a face.  The face of America is George Washington, on coins and dollar bills with portraits in the galleries and glorious (if not made-up) pictures of crossing the Delaware and Valley Forge and swearing oaths on Bibles.  The only face of note ever seen from Afghanistan was that of the Buddha at Bamian, standing statutes, actually there are or were two.  Both of these faces however have long been faceless, since the days of Tamerlane (Timor the Great); when his troops literally defaced the statues by removing the eyes and forehead and leaving only the mouth to tell the tale.

But I get ahead of myself or go too far back.  Afghanistan was old when Christendom was young.  Even the young Buddhists that brought their religion to Baghram and Bamian some hundreds of years B.C. were treading upon an ancient land, populated and mostly free.  But that brings us back to Burma, home of the Shwedagon Pagoda, and the airport in Rangoon, and the reason why my father was in Burma in the first place (in 1951 and 1952).  He was there to build an airport, longest runway in all of Asia, made for jets and jet aircraft and designed to change all that once was Burma into something new and more notable and more important in the scheme of things than just a country of elephants and teak might be; teak now no longer useful in making battleships for war which is why the British liked the place the first time - and took it.

So it was a Burma hand and six months in Burma and the building on an airport that brought my father to Afghanistan.  Small world, a “small world story” as my father used to say.  But the world is really larger than all of that, goes back further, has more twists and turns, not just simple soundbites.

Fred was an Eagle Scout and scouting had a motto - “Be Prepared”.  Fred had a hundred theories on life, the first one was about readiness and preparation.  Simply stated the idea suggests that doors open to those first ready, those that are prepared and willing for the task at hand.  If one wished for a good job or adventure “be prepared for it”, “do your homework”, “get an education or a better education”, “gain the experience that you may need”.  His words still haunt me and Afghanistan intrigued and haunted him.

Before there was Burma there was Coalinga, California; small town rich from oil.  Fred’s father was very poor then (and there).  He had been rich earlier in life, cattle ranches in Nevada where in his early years Fred grew up.  The family lived in the Ruby Valley, Elko County (Nevada); in a remote house and place in the most beautiful corner of the world one could find.  At least that is what those partial to Nevada might say, the simple life; wood cooking stove, stone chimney, the vistas of water and mountains at your front door and so few to share it with you almost really wished for a neighbor, not just cattle - but cattle country it was and had been and would be perhaps forever more.  And there were Indians too, and wild horses that the Clayton’s helped keep well-bred, letting the best studs out free each spring to mingle with their freer cousins of the open range.  The Indians they helped, blankets for the cold, food when they were hungry; the Indians were there first and there was a human need if not an obligation.

The banks were dishonest then, as now.  The Clayton money was used for speculation and everything was lost in the mid 1920’s, Mr. Clayton (senior) was ruined and in time his health was ruined too.  The family tried again in Colorado, cow smallpox wiped them out so it was California and the Golden State and a community literally built on oil that offered the hope of retirement and a better education for Mr. Clayton’s boy Fred.

On one spring day on the hills above Coalinga Eagle Scout Fred Clayton (16) sat with his girlfriend on a rock overlooking the oil and town below.  Coalinga was somewhat boring.  The vast reaches of the San Joaquin Valley, “desert brought to flower” by Hetch-Hetchy and other dams and the power of modern irrigation had lost its bloom.  Life should be about adventure, dark romance in an environment of peril if not risk; the challenges to man come only in the wild places, the far-off places, the places not completely settled and almost completely free.  Afghanistan (if not Nevada) was the ticket.  “Some day I’ll go to Afghanistan”, he might have said; but, anyway they sat and talked and painted pictures in their minds of wild places and free, romantic and very foreign; places important to imagine and almost impossible to describe.

[First posted:  2010.02.26 / Friday - Going to Afghanistan]