Memories of Johnston Island by QASAS Bob Bryan (1980-81)

Frantasy Island

Frantasy is not a dictionary word. It is a blend of two words - frantic, and fantastic. It is readily apparent that frantasy connotes two irreconcilable ideas. This does not mean that something cannot be defined with the term frantasy.

Indeed, there is a geographical entity some 800 miles WSW of Hawaii that is the epitome of the two concepts – Johnston Island!

I caught my first glimpse of the ‘ largest aircraft carrier in the universe, on June 3, 1980. I was met by QASAS ‘Mr. J.I.’, Herb Shoemaker. Herb had served several tours on the Island, so it was my good fortune to have my indoctrination from this old pro. We had a few weeks together before he moved to his next assignment in Hawaii.

One of my first diversions was the Olympic size swimming pool. I had already heard about the good SCUBA diving afforded by the crystal clear waters of the lagoon. I had heard, too, of the rigid requirements that must be met before one could enroll in one of the diving classes. One of those conditions was to swim four laps non-stop (= 400 meters!). My first try was only 80 meters, and I was totally exhausted (FRANTIC!). My weight was 207 pounds, and that translated into ‘diet’, if I really wanted to scuba. Within three months I had persuaded the scales to only register 155 pounds. I qualified and received my scuba card. What a joy to visit the beautiful undersea areas and see the many varieties of marine life (including white tip, and, gray, sharks (FANTASTIC!).

Everyone on the Island had occasion to meet one long time inhabitant - Muttsy. She was everybody’s dog, but she belonged to no one. She had come to the Island on one of the ships transporting ‘Red Hat’. She was one loveable Mutt. She had only one eye; she had gotten in the way of a swinging golf club on the local links (Coral Gables), and it had cost her one eye. There were other dogs there, and some cats, but Muttsy was special (FANTASTIC!).

Then, the Island Commander decided to put a moratorium on Muttsy’s freedom. She would enter various establishments at will, or wait patiently at the mess hall door for whoever might be her choice for a companion. This commander decided to end this furry friend’s freedom by putting her to sleep with an injection (FRANTIC!). Now, there were cats to be seen in all of these clubs, but no suggestion was made about ending their freedom Muttsy was still among the living when I left there (Fantastic!). I have often wondered about her last days of life.

I had been coached by Herb on how to assemble my team for inspecting the ammo items. I made a list of names of soldiers I had observed who would make good team members and submitted it to the Company Commander. He selected the required number from the list, and all seemed fine. We began our training as a team, working in full protective rubber, and completed that training, learning to work together like parts of a well oiled machine (FANTASTIC!).

On the day we were to begin the real thing, actual testing of the items, a totally different group showed up in the office. I immediately sought the reason for this. I was told that the men of my team were needed for another operation (FRANTIC!). I told those in charge that they may as well close the magazines (the rabbits had been emplaced), because I was not going to attempt this inspection with untrained men. I went back to my desk, and occupied myself with other duties. After an hour, the command personnel came and brought my chosen team back (FANTASTIC!). We completed our schedule in apple pie order!

Then there were the one-ton containers that had been decontaminated, after emptying of the GB, VX, and H contents, by filling them with decon fluid. They had been placed in open storage within the restricted area, and over the years much of the fluid had leaked out, leaving rust colored stains.

A program had been designed to determine the current status of the decon fluid by weighing and testing the fluid that remained in the containers. Tooling was flown in which would be used to roll the containers for several minutes, after which it would be placed on another piece of equipment for drawing a sample of the remaining fluid. The fluid would pass through a clear plastic tube and into the lab’s container. A mobile laboratory had been flown in by a C-5A.

The testing proceeded okay. I, and the officers directing the operation, stood some 50 feet upwind from the containers to monitor the event. Contents of from no fluid, to very near full contents were being recorded. No contents tested above the minimum acceptable agent percentage (FANTASTIC!). Then one day while Mustard containers were being tested, I was shocked to see that the fluid passing through the plastic tube was the color of dark motor oil (FRANTIC!). I immediately told the Lieutenant that the sample would test one million parts in one million. He said, "No way!" It tested one million in one million! It had been signed off before being brought to J.I. as decontaminated, and was in open storage with all the other containeers.

Fishing was another occasion for experiencing ‘frantastic.’ We could take a fishing trip outside the lagoon, and fish for tuna and ono. When one was caught, we reeled in like mad to keep the sharks from getting the catch. I tried it twice, but the sharks got all three of the ones I hooked (FRANTIC!). But many fish were successfully reeled in, and there was some mighty good eating. Probably the most unbelievable fishing event, though, was the day the hallelu (a species of small, tasty fish in the lagoon, began jumping up in great numbers onto the boat ramp. They were escaping from some larger fish (ulua) which were preying on them. In escaping the ulua, these hallelu jumped right into the frying pan, because everyone present was simply picking them up for later eating (FANTASTIC!).

One day, a Dr. Scott came to the ‘Rock’ to do some special tests on some items. He was a stickler to do every test while dressed in full rubber, so everyone in his group was dressed the same as he. While we were checking some one ton containers of GB in one magazine, he discovered a wet bubble on one valve. Immediately, we exited the magazine, standard operating procedure. We always had cooperation by the decon team which was present at any operation to spray us with water for cooling down when we came out of a magazine. That day, I didn’t get my mask filter completely covered, and when the water hit the filter, I lost my air supply immediately (FRANTIC!). My mind said, "Get the mask off quickly, or you will pass out from lack of air. If that happens, Dr. Scott will fill you with atropine." I knew no gas had hit me, but only water. I told the decon man to loosen my hood and mask, and he began to do so. Then he stopped. I was concerned about getting atropine that wasn’t needed, so I surreptitiously hit the bottom of the mask and broke the seal, receiving copious amounts of precious air (FANTASTIC!). The reason the man had stopped helping me was that Dr. Scott was shaking his head no. There was no leak on the container, but they never did figure out what caused the bubble.

We sailed, snorkeled, scubaed, golfed, barbecued, had luaus, and the year passed finally. It was a good experience for me, but one tour was sufficient. My poor wife had the worst part of that year. She had to be content with a year on Oahu!!