There’s another chapter to this War Story. It involves me, some of the same players and my other ‘temporary’ specialty.

As a young man fresh out of journalism school I was supposed to go out into the world and build a reputation for shaking things up. The Korean War had brought about some significant changes in the make-up of our U.S. Armed forces, most significantly racial integration. In March of 1951 the United States Air Force officially mandated the desegregation of all units including those in combat in Korea.

Many of the old Army Air Corp vets were having trouble coming to terms with the idea, especially those stationed in the South.

I didn’t endear myself to most of the old Army veteran types when I took it one step further and chose as a roommate a non-smoking, teetotaling athletic young Chaplain’s assistant, who just happened to be black. I was certainly the first man on that base to cross the line and maybe the first white GI ever to do so in the state of Texas. That’s OK, because they taught me in college that as a newspaper man I was supposed to shake things up.

With thousands of GIs fighting another senseless war over seas, our duty in Laredo was to train young cadets to fly jet fighter planes. As part of my third job, as ‘temporary’ I & E Officer, I was assigned the duty of ‘informing’ and ‘educating’ the troops at Laredo Air Force Base. In that capacity I was charged with delivering a one hour weekly presentation to my fellow GIs every Thursday on a subject of ‘significance’ prepared by the brass in Washington. Fortunately all my lectures were conducted in the old movie theater, one of the few air-conditioned buildings on the base.

The material they sent down was pretty dull stuff, although sometimes they might throw in a short film, some slides, or other visual aids. The subjects ranged anywhere from American military history to drug and alcohol abuse or personal hygiene. The later of course emphasized venereal disease prevention and protection, and was certainly appropriate considering that we were stationed on the Mexican border.

This chapter of the story deals with the week I was given a script which I am sure came right out of the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) in Washington. Remember, we were fighting a war in Korea to save the world from Communist domination. Forget the Holocaust and Pearl Harbor; our new enemies were now Russia and Red China and at that time the latter’s proxy, North Korea. There was perceived to be a great conspiracy to infiltrate our nation’s free society. Supposedly there were Communist spies everywhere poised to penetrate our government agencies from within and threaten our democratic way of life.

As it happens the “Communist Threat” was the subject of the prepared address I was required to deliver to the troops at Laredo Air Force Base one hot Thursday morning. I read the whole thing the night before, and as usual I prepared a little introduction of my own to best engage my GI audience, who found these mandatory lectures a great opportunity to enjoy an hour’s nap in my air conditioned theater.

Now…being a college graduate with a few courses in history and sociology, I thought it was only appropriate that I should introduce this subject with a broad definition of the term “communism” and the advantages associated with communal living dating back to the age of the cave man. I briefly mentioned Marx, Engle and Lenin as the fathers of Socialism and the Communist party. The prepared script dealt with the world’s current villains, Stalin and Mao Tse-tung, and of course their plans to “overthrow our American government  from within”.

But let’s go back a moment to my theater and my audience: Laredo Texas is one of the warmest cities in the United States of America with an average year round temperature in the excess of 100 degrees. The Army selected Laredo as home for an air base in 1944, and reactivated it in ’51 because the Government could be assured of at least 350 days of sunshine and perfect flying weather.

Apart from a smattering of old semi-operational desert coolers in the offices of the brass and the Bachelor’s Officer’s Club, the closest thing to air-conditioning existed only in the cockpits of the jet trainers and as previously mentioned, our base theater. For those GIs who had been up that particular Thursday since four am and working on the flight line since five; the idea of being required to take a break in midday to listen to some boring speech in an air-conditioned theater was a blessing. Despite the purpose for which they were being assembled, I usually had a full house.

That day was not much different than most Thursdays. Upon completion of my prepared introduction the theater lights were dimmed and quite promptly most of my captive audience dosed off. All in all I thought the talk went pretty well. There were no questions afterward, which came as no surprise, as there never were. The house lights came back on, the GIs filed out, and I returned to my office.

One morning about two weeks later I received a call from my Colonel’s adjutant. “You better come down to headquarters Sergeant. There are some people here from the Inspector General’s Office at FLYTAF. They want to see you”.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “I don’t know” he said, “but they look very serious, so you better get your ass down here ASAP.”

I would have figured it for some kind of a gag, though I knew that the adjutant, who had no sense of humor and hated my guts, wasn’t into playing games.

Two young officers were there when I arrived. I was asked to follow them into a private office. They had a copy of my file in front of them and began asking me a lot of personal questions: Do I belong to any organizations? How about in civilian life, especially in college? They asked questions about my family and where I would go and what I would do on my days off. I answered all of their questions honestly; I had nothing to hide. I never thought I would need a lawyer.

They wanted to know more about my duties there at Laredo Air Force Base. I outlined my job with the newspaper, my base PIO responsibilities, and my weekly address to the troops in my capacity as temporary I & E Officer. “What’s the problem?” I asked. “What are you guys doing down here?”

“Well” one of them said, “The problem deals with the talk you gave to the troops a few weeks ago on Thursday June 14^th. Do you have a transcript of that talk?” “Sure” I said and offered to dig up a copy of that particular prepared speech which dealt with the subject of ‘Communism in America’.

I explained that I keep copies of all the talks that come down from Washington. “Good” said one of the IG officers, “However, there have been some complaints about your talk that day. Someone ‘blew the whistle’ on you. If all you did was read the prepared speech we probably wouldn’t be here. However based on the tone of the complaints we received relative to that particular talk, there might be reason to question your “sympathies” and possibly your “patriotism.”

“My sympathies? …My patriotism?” I said. “You’ve got to be kidding!” To which one of them replied, “We are just doing our job Sergeant. We will be questioning some of your fellow airmen before we leave, and you can expect to hear from us in a couple of weeks. In the meantime we have asked your superiors to put your I&E responsibilities on hold until we finish our investigation. Meanwhile, stick around the base; we may want you to fly to Waco for a hearing.”

About a week after my meeting with the IG guys I got a call from my Colonel who had been away on TDY (Temporary Duty) while all of this was going on. In his office he handed me a formal piece of paper from the Inspector General’s people in Waco. It appears that based on my June 14^th talk to the troops a complaint had been made, and that I was suspected of being “soft” on communism.

“What could you have said to give some of our troops that impression Nate? Anyway this is serious stuff” he said, “so I suggest we discuss this with Hastings, our base legal officer. We need some advice.”

I met with Hastings, who turned out to be a good guy. He was a recent law school graduate, who like me chose the Air Force to satisfy his Selective Service requirement. We met for an hour or two. I managed to dig up some handwritten notes I had made when preparing my speech intro. We both came to the conclusion that my comments about the roots of communism probably triggered this investigation.

“It’s obvious Nate. Some GIs probably never heard more of your talk than your off-the-script lead-in before falling asleep in their seats. For an audience like that it’s probably wise to stay on subject.” advised Hastings.

“You’re telling me” I said, “No doubt about it. The question is; where do we go from here?”

“As happens” he said, “I have a law school classmate friend at FLYTAF. Perhaps he can help us. On the other hand you may need some assistance from higher up. Maybe the Colonel has some ideas.”

Anyway like magic, things started to move in my favor. Hastings talked to his buddy, and my Colonel put in a call to his pal, General Webb, who had taken our money on the Waco golf course. Webb must have figured he owed us especially since we had gotten his “ringer” out of the Mexican jail.  I don’t know how they did it, but they were able to get the Inspector General to quietly shelve my ‘commie’ case, and I never heard another word about it. I guess like they say, “what comes around goes around” works both ways in the Air Force.

As I was leaving my Colonel’s office with the good news, his uptight adjutant congratulated me on my escape with the promise that although I had beaten the system this time, the commie charge would always be on my record. “Your future in the Air Force is toast Nate!” he promised me… (S.O.B. to the very end).

My enlistment was up three months later. I would return with pleasure to civilian life, and with fascination watch the dramatic public hearings conducted by the House UnAmerican Activities Committee on TV. People in government as well as in private life were publicly accused of being communists and forced to appear before Congress, to not only defend themselves, but name names of others who may have at any time been members of or associated in any way with a left leaning organization. During the so-called ‘Red Scare’ HUAC attacked not only government employees, educators and unions, but also high-profile celebrities, forcing them to appear there in public hearings. The most high-profile inquisitor of the era was Senator Joseph McCarthy, a flamboyant demagogue who with his wild accusations and abrasive manner became a caricature of the insanity of the times.