September 2002                                                  The Megaphone                                                                Page 5

  In 1953 I was stationed at the Big Delta Army Base at Delta Junction, Alaska, located about 100 miles south of Fairbanks on the Richardson Highway.

  The army base had an airport, the Arctic Indoctrination School for troop orientation and the arctic test branch. I served as exec officer of the headquarters co. of the test branch that serviced about 60 officers and 300 enlisted men and several arctic scientists that tested men, clothing and equipment in extreme temperatures.

  One evening during the spring thaw, several of my fellow officers and I drove from the arctic test branch to the officer's club for a steak meal and a poker game. Around 10 p.m. I felt tired and was ready to go back to the officers quarters. I decided to walk the 3/4 mile through the "Northwest Passage." This was a dirt road that served as a short-cut back to the branch. The night was very cold and the snow was powdery underfoot. I wore arctic gear, which included fur felt boots and a heavy parka with a hood. We were warned that an encounter with an animal was possible during the end of their hibernation period. I carried my 45-automatic handgun.

  As I began to walk in the bright Alaskan moonlit night, I became aware of the silence - except for my footsteps squeaking in the dry snow. I walked about 15 minutes enraptured with the beauty of the night when I noticed something coming out of the wood about 100 yards to my left. I chilled with the thought that this might be a bear. Perhaps a malamute or a huskie that got loose. The enlisted men owned several dogs at the branch. Whatever it was - it seemed to be heading right at me. The officers quarters were still about 100 yards away. My concern was - did I have time to avoid a confrontation with the animal. I finally determined that it was a bear but I could not tell the size of the animal trotting at a slow gate toward me. I decided to just walk fast rather than run and encourage the animal to chase me as prey.

  I had practiced often with my gun on the handgun range, but I knew a 45-caliber gun was not the ideal weapon to use on a wild animal. The bear appeared to be medium sized and I did not think he had increased the pace on me. I became drenched in sweat in my arctic clothing as I hurried along the road. I stopped periodically to check to see if the bear changed course. I finally convinced myself he was not only after me, but he was also gaining on me. I was nearly exhausted. I ran and arrived at my barracks door with the bear closing in. I threw myself through the doorway and slammed it behind me. I quickly glanced back through the window and saw the bear disappear along the south side of the building.

  I ran through the length of the officers quarters and told my friend Jim to come with me. We both looked out of a window and saw the young black bear running up the street to our mess hall. Yes, the bear was only hungry and I happened to get between him and our garbage cans.

  When I told my friend, Chief Warrant Officer Jim Leonhardt (He was a Southern boy from NC) about my bear experience, he drawled, "Cleava, even if that damn bear was after your hide, yo-awl had that poor animal at a terrible disadvantage . . . you were running on dry land . . . and he wasn't."

  Jim could always make me laugh.

Dick Cleaver '47
Colorado