Air Force Days

By Ty Swanson

4/6/2022

Robert John Drabek was a very good friend to me while we were both stationed at the 612 Radar Squadron near the town of Ajo, Arizona during the years of 1967-1968.  We usually called our duty station simply "Ajo" (which in Spanish means garlic).  The set the scene you need to know that it was our first duty station after a year long tech school at Kessler Air force Base near Biloxi, Mississippi.  Also consider that we were both enlisted men, that volunteered to join the Air Force during the Vietnam 'conflict'.  I don't know about Bob (as I knew him as) but the looming, forced, draft into the Army had a lot to do with my 'volunteering' for the Air Force., where my father had served during World War II.

There are some other things you need to know, like our pay started out at less than $100 a month, back in those days and we had no idea where our tour of duty would take us.

I didn't know Bob in Tech School even though we were on the same large campus. I first met him at Ajo.  When I ask about him someone said, "That's Drabek, he pretty much keeps to himself and works the night shift". In those days things were still using vacuum tubes and along with needing their own air conditioning the equipment required 24 hour supervision, some might call 'baby sitting'. That required 3, 8 hour shift work that we called, 'Days, 'Swings' and 'Mids'.  Guess who got the night shifts.... the single guys from the barracks. Bob had a loner appearance of wash and wear, fatigues and slightly longer hair. During my time knowing him, I'm certain he was advised more than once 'to get a trim', by his supervising Sergeant.  Looking back on it I think he had sort of an Albert Einstein look, about him.

    I don't know when or how we became friends but it was a gradual thing, we worked in different shops and had different shifts. I just knew Bob was a guy I'd like to know more about.

Later my nickname for him, was Bob Dylan Drabek but I never called him that to his face, it was usually Drabek, using just the last name, as is the custom in the military and I was Swanson.

It's good to tell these stories about Bob with no one to correct me after these 55 or so years because I sure some would have comments or corrections.  On the other hand, some say that I have a pretty good memory.

These are the unique things I remember about him as I recall them.

 I.   After a trip to Phoenix (we used to go to Phoenix to cool off, ha). We were coming home to Ajo in my 1965, Plymouth, with no air conditioning, during the heat of the day (100+).  We stopped at a drive through and both got a big cup of ice water. As we went down the road, now in the country, Bob said, "Pull over", which I did. He opened the car door hung his head and shoulders out and dumped the ice water on his head. I thought Aha, good idea and did the same.

II.    Bob was also the rubber burning champ up on 'the hill'.  Let me explain...  Where we worked was up on the peak of the  hill/mountain where the radar antenna could get a good look at things (aircraft). This was separate from the main base and a long ways from the married guys housing area, we were on our own. I must also say the Ajo, only had about 100 personnel, it was far from the size of a regular base. 

Our transportation up and down the hill were Dodge pick up trucks equipped with 318 cubic inch, V8 engines and heavy duty, 4 speed manual transmissions.  With and empty bed it wasn't hard to spin the rear tires. So....  a few times out of boredom the guys would see who could lay the longest, black strip of rubber.  Although I did not witness this first had I was amazed with one strip and ask about it. "Yeah, Drabek did that', was the reply. (Kind out of character for the mild recluse, I thought.)

III.  "Get Drabek"  (It' not what you may be thinking...)

        When things in Bob's shop got bad and it seemed no one could fix the equipment the cry went up to, "Get Drabek"!  Even if he had just completed his 8 hour shift or was on break.  Bob always went up and fixed what was wrong and came back down and went back to bed.

IV.   "Fixing Ty's Amplifier."

         Did I say it was sometime boring around there out in the desert.

        Many of us got into the music of the day and that meant we had to have our own stereo system.  I gave Bob a key to my room so he could listen to records (yes, vinyl discs, 33 1/3 RPM, long play).  For some reason unknowed to m, my Scott Amplifier stopped working. I may have mentioned it to Bob as I went up to work my shift. When I got off work, bob wa sin my room listening to a record. "How, what? Did you fix it?"  'Yes', was his usual dry reply. "How, what was wrong, where did you get the parts" ( I was sure that I would have to drive it to a stereo repair shop in Phoenix and pay a big repair bill or worse, need to buy a new one.)  He had done some trouble shooting and a some soldering work, he got a replacement tube from his shop that was a larger, heavy duty, military grade and stuck out of the wooden cabinet about 1 inch, but it worked fine.  I couldn't thank him enough. "This tube will last longer that the old one", he said.  Ha, Good old Bob.

On the same subject of:  In the barracks, stereo systems.

Bob wanted his own stereo and what else did we have to spend our meager pay on?  He purchased a Dynaco amplifier kit and assembled it himself in his room on his off time.  As you would expect, the amplifier worked perfectly, but there was another problem...  when Bob turned up the volume or a neighbor would slam his door in the barracks it would cause his needle to skip.  After trying several other things. He said "Come up and see how I fixed it."  What he had done (and it was strictly forbidden) was to drill holes into the concrete block wall and hang a plywood shelf from the solid, shake proof, wall with a light duty chain. Worked perfect! Bob noted, "I have a strong respect of concrete now, it was hard to get those holes drilled."

Bob's cars while at Ajo.

Yes cars, I remember 2. He would go off somewhere with very little money and come back with what would pass for a fixer upper, vehicle of questionable value. One was an old, over the hill, Porsche with a transplanted Chevy, Corvair engine (can you imagine?). It looked like he got it from a junk yard and some of it's parts were in the back seat. This was not the Porsche that you might think of today, which is a fine and desirable automobile coveted by many and an expensive automobile.  This one was junk, It looked like it had been in more than one wreck and I honestly don't know how he got it up the hill where he lived. It did not look like it would run nor be safe it it did. Bald tires and all. Brakes? maybe. Year model? very old. Plates? Title? Inspection sticker? I don't remember it having any of that. One thing I know it had was leaks. To me it was a lost cause but not to Bob, I think it was his first car. I ignored it as Bob struggled to get it running in his off time. He didn't seem like he wanted any help and I was glad of it. We were working different shifts anyway and seldom crossed paths.

The next one was a Volvo about in the same shape maybe slightly better. Both were money pits to be sure but not to Bob. Now he had two old imported cars in the desert and neither had a dealer any closer than Phoenix. He kept at it. Where he got his parts I don't know. I suspect junk yards.

Now for the last story....

Bob himself told me this one.

He was in Phoenix when he was stopped by the police for some minor thing (maybe for not having a license plate or a large part falling off). The first thing the  police officer ask for (as they always do) is, ask for drivers license, registration and proof of insurance. Well it so happened Bob didn't have all that paperwork. But two out of three ain't bad. Considering the registration, he had none for that car, but he did have registration for his other car.  "Maybe the dumb cop wouldn't know a Porsche from a Volvo."  He guessed wrong and this led to more trouble. He did make it back to base but had to go to court and no doubt a fine was involved.

That's the ones I remember. Please consider we were single, barely in our twenties, in the desert working rotating night shifts.

There was after midnight, rattlesnake hunting and Molotov cocktails but those are other stories....