March 2001                                                          The Megaphone                                                                 Page 5

Journey To Guam

Part One

by Julie (Stout) Duffitt

   It all began with a single step, that magical journey to the South Sea Island of Guam. Today, four decades later, I might mention Guam was my most favorite place I ever lived, and David will look at me as if I must have a screw loose. Later, you can judge for yourselves. Each journey has a beginning and an end. We'll start at the beginning.

  We were living in Kokomo and David was stationed at Bunker Hill Air Force Base. The orders came down for Guam and I was elated! Finally, finally, I would get to see another part of the world away from this boring place called Indiana, the only place I had ever been. I had been as far as Cincinnati and no further.

  And then the bad news...I couldn't go with him. There was a waiting list and it would be 2 to 4 months before housing was available. I knew eventually I was going so I dug in and started planning "the trip." The house went up for sale and we moved into a two room apartment, big enough for our one son and myself, two doors from my  friend and baby sitter. I was working at the local hospital.

   I said good-bye to David at the bus station one day in June. Mark, then three, and I stood there watching the bus disappear down the road, wondering if I'd ever see him again, and would it really be on the island of Guam? I was 22 years old.

 Remember, communication today is vastly different than it was four decades ago. After a two week silence, his first letter was in my hands. He had arrived safely, after a very long flight from Travis Air Force Base, close to San Francisco.
   

   I continued working through those long and lonely weeks, sometimes being awaken with frantic shouts through my open window. Then I would jump up, race out the door, down the sidewalk and into another house.  I'd then proceed to pick up a waiting phone and scream...I mean SCREAM into it...David? If I was lucky I'd hear, "Julie, how are you?"

   "I'm fine, how are you." By now both man and wife of this house were quietly standing right beside me, along with both neighbors that lived between my apartment and the baby sitter's house. All were tussled looking, having jumped up out of a sound sleep. It really was funny. All were in awe of a phone call traveling that distance. It was June, July, August, hot summer nights, open windows. Sound traveled far on a quiet night. Lights went on up and down the street. What was I to do...???

   After we had assured each other we were "Fine," we proceeded on to "How's your weather?" This was at the very top of my lungs...oh yes, my talking and then saying "over."

   There were no phone cables over the Pacific and all phone calls were by radio patch. If we were lucky enough to not fade out completely after the how are you and the weather, we would continue with, "How is Mark?" "He is fine," and so on and so forth.

  In a two month period, I did about a dozen calls, mostly at night. Why? Well, there was...still is...17 hours difference in time and one of us could not remember if Indiana was ahead or behind Guam.

  At first the neighbors were upset, thinking something awful had happened...but after a few shouting matches they became accustomed and enjoyed standing there watching me shout.

  David worked in communications and could make the calls because of that. Most people could not. At that time, surface mail was three cents and airmail was five cents. Surface mail took three to six months; airmail, seven to fourteen days.

  All in good time my orders to travel came, the packers were there and suitcases were filled to the brim. Our arms were sore as we had to have nine different shots. You'd think we were going to the ends of the Earth. Well, before we got there I knew that to be a fact.

        End: Part One

                Part Two is on Page 8