tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46712938217967225752024-03-28T00:21:36.966-04:00Author Robert F. DorrRobert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-37475276879787352832016-07-05T23:05:00.001-04:002016-07-05T23:05:26.286-04:00
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><a href="https://ospreypublishing.com/blog/robert_f_dorr_obituary/">Robert F 'Bob' Dorr -September 11, 1939 - June 12, 2016</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">By Pete Ward<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Courtesy of Osprey Publishing <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Oxford, United Kingdom | 15 June 2016 </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">With the passing of
Robert F ‘Bob’ Dorr on 12 June 2016, Osprey has lost one of its most
accomplished authors. He was given his first book commissions by the company in
the 1980s whilst serving as a Foreign Service Officer in the US Embassy in
London, Bob writing more than half of the titles that appeared in the company’s
landmark Air Combat series. He also regularly wrote books in the famous Colour
Series during this period and into the 1990s, working closely with Osprey
aviation editor Dennis Baldry. Bob’s style was very personable, reflecting the
numerous contacts he had within the US armed forces and particularly the USAF.
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Aside from his work for Osprey (which included five titles in the long-running
Combat Aircraft series on two of his favourite USAAF ‘heavies’, namely the B-24
and the B-29), Bob was widely published in aviation and military journals.
Indeed, his opinion columns in Military Times, Combat Aircraft and Air Power
History were compulsory reading for those either in the armed forces or interested
in modern airpower. One of life’s outstanding characters, the author of more
than 70 books, hundreds of fictional action stories and countless articles on
aviation, Bob Dorr will be sorely missed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Dennis Baldry, Bob’s
first editor at Osprey, had this to say:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><em>I said my final goodbye
to Bob via email earlier this year. Quite the most heartbreaking I've ever
sent, knowing that I would never receive a reply. He does, of course, leave a
brilliant body of work. His place among the all-time greats of aviation writing
is assured. I'm still enormously proud of the fact that I happened to be the
editor who published his first aviation book. As you know, there was actually
little or nothing to edit. His manuscripts were word perfect and a joy to read.
I don’t think Bob ever quite forgave me for publishing a separate book on the
UK Phantom. And I think he had a point!<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
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Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com52tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-58268241805836966172016-07-05T22:18:00.000-04:002016-07-05T22:35:26.708-04:00From the Washington Post, July 3, 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/obituaries/robert-f-dorr-author-of-military-histories-dies-at-76/2016/07/03/c2c2371c-3e3d-11e6-84e8-1580c7db5275_story.html">Robert F. Dorr, author of military histories, dies at 76</a></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">By
Bart Barnes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Washington Post © | </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">July 3, 2016 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Robert
F. Dorr, an author and former Foreign Service officer who wrote hundreds of
books, newspaper and magazine articles on military aircraft, battles and
history, died June 12 at a hospital in Falls Church, Va. He was 76. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
cause was a brain tumor, said a son, Robert P. Dorr.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">From
1964 to 1989, Mr. Dorr was in the Foreign Service, mainly as a political
officer, and his assignments included South Korea, Madagascar, Japan, Sweden,
London and Liberia. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In retirement, he wrote books on topics ranging
from World War II history to more recent military missions to novels and
adventure stories. His 1991 volume about the Persian Gulf War, “Desert Shield:
The Buildup, the Complete Story,” reportedly sold 100,000 copies. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mr.
Dorr was a columnist for Air Force Times and other military publications and
often was a “sympathetic voice for enlisted airmen,” said Kathleen Curthoys, a
presentation editor at Military Times.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Robert
Francis Dorr was born in Washington on Sept. 11, 1939. He grew up near Bolling Air
Force Base and since childhood was fascinated by airplanes. With money he
earned from a paper route, he bought an Underwood typewriter and began writing
stories when he was 12.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As
a student at Suitland High School in Prince George’s County, Md., Mr. Dorr
began his writing career with an unsolicited article in Air Force Magazine
arguing that bombers in the Strategic Air Command needed fighter aircraft
escorts, the Air Force Times said in an obituary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After
high school graduation in 1957, Mr. Dorr served four years in the Air Force,
stationed mostly in Korea. Having learned the language, he eavesdropped on
North Korean communications. He later settled in San Francisco, attended the
University of California at Berkeley and began writing adventure stories for
pulp fiction magazines. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In
1968 he married a Korean national, Young Soon Cho, and they later settled in
Oakton, Va. Besides his wife, survivors include two sons, Robert P. Dorr of
Arlington, Va., and Lawrence G. Dorr III of Trinity, Fla.; a brother; and three
grandchildren.</span></div>
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Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-91405617080324662482016-05-28T12:54:00.001-04:002016-05-28T12:54:32.757-04:00The last magazine article<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWpsWNMYmB_mSP3LvPRULUyLg0RAkRJ-1HBX09xb4ud6eBFeh3ZJEfIpUIPmKEuQAJXUASYRMeG4pL3OhkfDyryOI3W23pcWE9brjmuOmqcJGxOo42StT8wbuFbjFvcuT-oKfkOUpuMbY/s1600/IMG_1529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWpsWNMYmB_mSP3LvPRULUyLg0RAkRJ-1HBX09xb4ud6eBFeh3ZJEfIpUIPmKEuQAJXUASYRMeG4pL3OhkfDyryOI3W23pcWE9brjmuOmqcJGxOo42StT8wbuFbjFvcuT-oKfkOUpuMbY/s320/IMG_1529.JPG" width="240" /></a>The Avenger torpedo bomber is the subject of my last-ever magazine article among thousands that have appeared under my byline since 1955. <br />
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The article will be in the June issue of America in WWII magazine. This is a great magazine to work for, with great editors.<br />
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It's fitting. I belong to the Capital Wing of the Commemorative Air Force, which operates a TBM-3E Avenger (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009537378365&ref=br_rs">Doris Mae TBM Facebook Profile</a>.)<br />
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<b>Last of Many Articles</b><br />
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Since 1955, I've published 80 books, 6,000 magazine articles and 3,000 newspaper columns, mostly about the Air Force. I've enjoyed sixty "straight" years of writing about the Air Force and aviation (interrupted only partially by a 25-year stint as a Foreign Service officer.)<br />
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No one ever had a greater privilege than to write about Americans who fly and fight. I've donated my archives and some cash to charities that I support, including the Glenn L. Martin Maryland Aviation Museum and the Commemorative Air Force. These groups honor veterans, educate young Americans and inspire the public.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxPe62kkNP2ucL1ei0QEZ65BLiBtG_saWnTKHrLX5GlCnfVlSHo_kUhFDnU2pIy7zSL2HLsT5iOh-Wn0lnZsqCEHs89WjXAz9bnveP7xiRANgQwIyZz25l4QhErJUhyrdTwmP2sGhXek/s1600/BobDorr--Avenger--AmericaInWWII--Jun16--Spread1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxPe62kkNP2ucL1ei0QEZ65BLiBtG_saWnTKHrLX5GlCnfVlSHo_kUhFDnU2pIy7zSL2HLsT5iOh-Wn0lnZsqCEHs89WjXAz9bnveP7xiRANgQwIyZz25l4QhErJUhyrdTwmP2sGhXek/s320/BobDorr--Avenger--AmericaInWWII--Jun16--Spread1.png" width="320" /></a><b>My Tumor</b><br />
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In October 2015, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor known as a Glioblastoma Multiforme.<br />
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This type of tumor is always fatal. Life expectancy generally runs from three to fifteen months.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJHR2hdVqrt11MaejDTj4LgkBKFxpv9UbgvjJvaxV7IpiANKQ526rw58R-mvYlpczloj0pWL8Zpp1g6oSLvJQVYSHNUS2_Efoe_HcWuiTubdjsXtUtHWYEnsKN94NVMWdrmsHJKub2YU/s1600/feb2016-cover-home.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJHR2hdVqrt11MaejDTj4LgkBKFxpv9UbgvjJvaxV7IpiANKQ526rw58R-mvYlpczloj0pWL8Zpp1g6oSLvJQVYSHNUS2_Efoe_HcWuiTubdjsXtUtHWYEnsKN94NVMWdrmsHJKub2YU/s200/feb2016-cover-home.png" width="158" /></a>I had brain surgery December 2 and completed radiation and chemo February 25. In April, I completed my fourth round of chemo; one that requires taking pills for one full week each month. I continue to take monthly rounds of chemo.<br />
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Now May, eight months in, I continue to lose my ability to type on a keyboard. I can still talk easily though. Please don't hesitate to call me at (703) 264-8950. I am suffering no discomfort and am in great spirits. I am enjoying the time connecting with friends and family, and most of all taking advantage of the occasional free lunch or milkshake.<br />
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Hope you like this article about a great World War II aircraft.<br />
<br />
Bob<br />
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<br />
(703) 264-8950<br />
<br />
Robert F. Dorr<br />
3411 Valewood Drive<br />
Oakton VA 22124<br />
robert.f.dorr@cox.net<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-30362752699252289012016-04-30T05:52:00.001-04:002016-05-25T18:09:58.293-04:00Update: Flying and Writing<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7257586101737586981" itemprop="description articleBody" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 624px;">
Here's an update.<br />
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I've flown aboard 128 different aircraft types. They include restored World War II aircraft like the P-51 Mustang, SB2C-5 Helldiver and B-25 Mitchell. I've also flown the F-15E Strike Eagle, the B-52H Stratofortress and the B-1B Lancer. I have a record of every time I've been off the ground in an aircraft, including every commercial airline flight I've ever taken.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuZiDx-wu5Bi4uj0NcH5hk4hZ_yXtjqTEjdUFh8mXxkgYqFEzhOrD2gBiTAg1HCqMML9465ZxQpP1uiHOrPmfYTYSwyQ1oNYgIJuNjd7u_nr1fhiPd1haP4jXORdtzZ0peE8CBDJcb9E/s1600/PT-1080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuZiDx-wu5Bi4uj0NcH5hk4hZ_yXtjqTEjdUFh8mXxkgYqFEzhOrD2gBiTAg1HCqMML9465ZxQpP1uiHOrPmfYTYSwyQ1oNYgIJuNjd7u_nr1fhiPd1haP4jXORdtzZ0peE8CBDJcb9E/s200/PT-1080.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;">My penultimate fight was with Jack Molenear in his Stearman N-2B, or PT-17, at Culpeper on August 2, 2014.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;">My last flight was on May 12 2015, in "Fifi", the world's only flying</span><span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;"> B-29 Superfortress. Thanks, Mark Novak, Al Benzing and John Schauer.</span><br />
<br />
Since 1955, I've published 80 books, 6,000 magazine articles and 3,000 newspaper columns, mostly about the Air Force. <span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">I've enjoyed sixty "straight" years of writing about the Air Force and aviation (interrupted only partially by a 25-year stint as a Foreign Service officer.) No one ever had a greater privilege than to write about Americans who fly and fight. I've donated my archives and some cash to charities that I support, including the Glenn L. Martin Maryland Aviation Museum and the Commemorative Air Force (CAF). These groups honor veterans, educate young Americans and inspire the public.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Flying and writing days</b><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;">For now I'm a bystander.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;"></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">In October 2015, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor known as a Glioblastoma Multiforme.</span><span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">This type of tumor is always fatal. Life expectancy generally runs from three to fifteen months.</span></div>
At the start of May, eight months in, I continue to lose my ability to type on a keyboard. I can still talk easily though. Please don't hesitate to call me at (703) 264-8950.<br />
<br />
My speech is intact. <span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;">I am suffering no discomfort and am in great spirits. I am enjoying the time connecting with friends and family, and most of all taking advantage of the occasional free lunch or milkshake.</span></div>
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I had brain surgery December 2 and completed radiation and chemo February 25. In April, I will be in my fourth round of chemo; one that requires taking pills for one full week each month.<br />
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<b style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;">Books</b><br />
My most popular book is "AIR POWER ABANDONED," the story of the F-22 Raptor, Defense Secretary Robert Gates, General T. Michael Moseley, and Gates's firing of the Air Force leadership.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0p7Sp4gxrpby5sg9K2mEzMmwjgzzqVhuMcGcsKPuydmJpszxZQIZFgpU4ZKuizklPN2XF9Fp7EtOxPFuNXZU_Sc6sWiIzR-D2wX1cuoTVhZWINRAFEXmxJFC0Muuq5Ry0PV1_KmN3WA/s1600/APA+NEAR-FINAL+COVER+15-04-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #0064ff; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0p7Sp4gxrpby5sg9K2mEzMmwjgzzqVhuMcGcsKPuydmJpszxZQIZFgpU4ZKuizklPN2XF9Fp7EtOxPFuNXZU_Sc6sWiIzR-D2wX1cuoTVhZWINRAFEXmxJFC0Muuq5Ry0PV1_KmN3WA/s320/APA+NEAR-FINAL+COVER+15-04-29.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(255, 255, 255); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7257586101737586981" itemprop="description articleBody" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 624px;">
<br />
Price per book when ordered from me is $22. All proceeds are donated to the Capital Wing of the Commemorative Air Force, a 501(c)(3) charity. And, yes, it's on Kindle, too. <br />
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4;">Bob</span><br />
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
(703) 264-8950</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
Robert F. Dorr</div>
<div class="p2">
3411 Valewood Drive</div>
<div class="p2">
Oakton VA 22124</div>
robert.f.dorr@cox.net<br />
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Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-24765448876145356982016-04-16T13:58:00.000-04:002016-05-25T18:00:59.081-04:00April 16, 2016 Update (Bob Dorr)<div class="post hentry" itemprop="blogPost" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16.8px; margin: 0px 0px 25px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
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Here's an update.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
As of mid-April, I continue to lose my ability to type on a keyboard. I can still talk. My speech is mostly intact and I encourage friends to call me at (703) 264-8950. I am suffering no discomfort and am in great spirits. I am enjoying the time connecting with friends and family, and most of all taking advantage of the occasional free lunch or milkshake.</div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7257586101737586981" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 624px;">
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLp1MHAfWccKOOcnQynHvkJIpMSUvN1ipZ7NAbFE5fh18PZvo3uX2Y7C5HYyGpb2d9j_ExF1EdaqudqIj-vfHnzLThNAcTQy01swqeqvfjZEdTDx6tTg-ulXnGCSB74ObXEWxUMTvBbI/s1600/Bob+and+Provost.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLp1MHAfWccKOOcnQynHvkJIpMSUvN1ipZ7NAbFE5fh18PZvo3uX2Y7C5HYyGpb2d9j_ExF1EdaqudqIj-vfHnzLThNAcTQy01swqeqvfjZEdTDx6tTg-ulXnGCSB74ObXEWxUMTvBbI/s320/Bob+and+Provost.JPG" width="248" /></a></div>
In October, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor known as a Glioblastoma Multiforme.<br />
<br />
This type of tumor is always fatal. Life expectancy generally runs from three to fifteen months.<br />
<br />
I had brain surgery December 2 and completed radiation and chemo February 25. In April, I will be in my fourth round of chemo; one that requires taking pills for one full week each month.<br />
<br />
Other than losing the ability to type on a keyboard, I've experienced no discomfort, pain, or side effects.<br />
<br />
<b>Books</b><br />
My most popular book is "AIR POWER ABANDONED," the story of the F-22 Raptor, Defense Secretary Robert Gates, General T. Michael Moseley, and Gates's firing of the Air Force leadership.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0p7Sp4gxrpby5sg9K2mEzMmwjgzzqVhuMcGcsKPuydmJpszxZQIZFgpU4ZKuizklPN2XF9Fp7EtOxPFuNXZU_Sc6sWiIzR-D2wX1cuoTVhZWINRAFEXmxJFC0Muuq5Ry0PV1_KmN3WA/s1600/APA+NEAR-FINAL+COVER+15-04-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #0064ff; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0p7Sp4gxrpby5sg9K2mEzMmwjgzzqVhuMcGcsKPuydmJpszxZQIZFgpU4ZKuizklPN2XF9Fp7EtOxPFuNXZU_Sc6sWiIzR-D2wX1cuoTVhZWINRAFEXmxJFC0Muuq5Ry0PV1_KmN3WA/s320/APA+NEAR-FINAL+COVER+15-04-29.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(255, 255, 255); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7257586101737586981" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 624px;">
Price per book when ordered from me is $22. All proceeds are donated to the Capital Wing of the Commemorative Air Force, a 501(c )(3) charity. And, yes, it's on Kindle, too.<br />
<br />
<div class="p1">
Bob</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
(703) 264-8950</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
Robert F. Dorr</div>
<div class="p2">
3411 Valewood Drive</div>
<div class="p2">
Oakton VA 22124</div>
robert.f.dorr@cox.net<br />
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Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-72575861017375869812016-03-31T09:10:00.000-04:002016-05-25T18:02:13.846-04:00Day One Six One. The Tumor Watch (Update)Here's an update.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_FLkrcyepDaep8JKiWPRUYBzKMLtxv2Iv8XMbYRTboyL1rDpYC8ThAmeItcv2mR10UkU2Kc1N-Fa92QmXGCUTxRRm-a6wILJRuxzHYsrYNN9BUMHnFSw_o5T2SIPqQ3diN47yD4xj6w/s1600/Bob+Standard+Author+Pic+11-11-04+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_FLkrcyepDaep8JKiWPRUYBzKMLtxv2Iv8XMbYRTboyL1rDpYC8ThAmeItcv2mR10UkU2Kc1N-Fa92QmXGCUTxRRm-a6wILJRuxzHYsrYNN9BUMHnFSw_o5T2SIPqQ3diN47yD4xj6w/s320/Bob+Standard+Author+Pic+11-11-04+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
March is coming to an end and I am losing my ability to type on a keyboard. I can still talk. My speech is intact and I am always happy to take a phone call at (703) 264-8950. I am suffering no discomfort and am in great spirits. I am enjoying the time connecting with friends and family, and most of all taking advantage of the occasional free lunch or milkshake.<br />
<br />
In October, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor known as a Glioblastoma Multiforme.<br />
<br />
This type of tumor is always fatal. Life expectancy generally runs from three to fifteen months.<br />
<br />
I had brain surgery December 2 and completed radiation and chemo February 25. As of this week, I am on a second round of chemo; one that requires taking pills for one full week each month.<br />
<br />
Other than losing the ability to type on a keyboard, I've experienced no discomfort, pain, or side effects.<br />
<br />
<b>Books</b><br />
My most popular book is "AIR POWER ABANDONED," the story of the F-22 Raptor, Defense Secretary Robert Gates, General T. Michael Moseley, and Gates's firing of the Air Force leadership.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0p7Sp4gxrpby5sg9K2mEzMmwjgzzqVhuMcGcsKPuydmJpszxZQIZFgpU4ZKuizklPN2XF9Fp7EtOxPFuNXZU_Sc6sWiIzR-D2wX1cuoTVhZWINRAFEXmxJFC0Muuq5Ry0PV1_KmN3WA/s1600/APA+NEAR-FINAL+COVER+15-04-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0p7Sp4gxrpby5sg9K2mEzMmwjgzzqVhuMcGcsKPuydmJpszxZQIZFgpU4ZKuizklPN2XF9Fp7EtOxPFuNXZU_Sc6sWiIzR-D2wX1cuoTVhZWINRAFEXmxJFC0Muuq5Ry0PV1_KmN3WA/s320/APA+NEAR-FINAL+COVER+15-04-29.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
My first murder mystery, "CRIME SCENE: FAIRFAX COUNTY" was published January. Both books can be gotten for Kindle, in print from Amazon, or, preferably directly from me. Price per book when ordered from me is $22. All proceeds are donated to the Capital Wing of the Commemorative Air Force, a 501(c )(3) charity.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9L-pS9KbvAzsgGSduf-vhqj0NDBovOfkAhUY_U_7R9gaZumo-RMoxxlcQQxSYTSp9uW3yasOgTz3H7YpEaA_PdbE_449-EBBVgLf5EI7osQrZq7pXq60Fnv7vF1jkO7xsbeLagI40v74/s1600/CRIME+SCENE+-+FINISHED+COVER.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9L-pS9KbvAzsgGSduf-vhqj0NDBovOfkAhUY_U_7R9gaZumo-RMoxxlcQQxSYTSp9uW3yasOgTz3H7YpEaA_PdbE_449-EBBVgLf5EI7osQrZq7pXq60Fnv7vF1jkO7xsbeLagI40v74/s320/CRIME+SCENE+-+FINISHED+COVER.png" width="320" /></a>I'm still mostly me. The tumor affects my ability to type and my speech. My speech is fully understandable and I'm urging friends to call at (703) 264-8950.<br />
<br />
I can still think, read, converse, and be taken out to lunch.<br />
<br />
Bob<br />
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
(703) 264-8950</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
Robert F. Dorr</div>
<div class="p2">
3411 Valewood Drive</div>
<div class="p2">
Oakton VA 22124</div>
robert.f.dorr@cox.netRobert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-38805788837171256082016-03-20T17:32:00.001-04:002016-03-30T21:16:21.842-04:00Day One Five Eight. Influence: Joan VasiliadisJoan Vasiliadis was the strongest person I've ever known.<br />
<br />
I know what it's like to have a strong partner. Mine's downstairs at the moment. But Joan, or Joannie, was the model from whom all others were cast.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHlP8rl6fN2Vlka9GwSwIxLaBAbHlYkG3Q-fY6XeoiciiaXiyex6noYzJFnCyphELBnTi1y-OUpRC6JYvl59lAy_z4rMSGOMnGpGeGkZBBM81eo7CIwekCNmfYRNuSbQuBDxyJKqOBAA/s1600/Chas%2526Joan.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHlP8rl6fN2Vlka9GwSwIxLaBAbHlYkG3Q-fY6XeoiciiaXiyex6noYzJFnCyphELBnTi1y-OUpRC6JYvl59lAy_z4rMSGOMnGpGeGkZBBM81eo7CIwekCNmfYRNuSbQuBDxyJKqOBAA/s400/Chas%2526Joan.jpg" /></a>
No unlikelier couple ever existed than Joan and Charles Vasiliadis, known as Vas. Throw out everything you've ever thought about a fighter pilot's wife. Listen to Doug—one of the couple's three sons, along with Mark and Roger:<br />
<br />
"My Mom went to Columbia Law School, and in 1953 she was one of only nine women in her graduating class of 135 students," said Doug. <br />
<br />
"Mom was an intellectual Jewish, liberal democrat lawyer, and my Dad was a gritty Greek-Orthodox, conservative republican fighter pilot.<br />
<br />
"She had spent the first 30 years of her life in New York City and could have continued a very successful professional career. But instead she married a fighter pilot, devoted herself to being a wife and a mother, moved from Air Force base to Air Force base raising 3 kids while much of the time my Dad was flying around the world and fighting in Vietnam."<br />
<br />
<b>Flying and fighting</b><br />
Him? Well, he flew the F-86F and F-86H Sabre, F-100C and F-100D Super Sabre, A-1E Skyraider, F-105 Thunderchief and F-4 Phantom II. He flew 560 missions, was the high-hour A-1E pilot, was shot down and rescued in the F-105 and received two Silver Star medals. He's a big-hearted, outspoken, often humorous man of many accomplishments. But the smartest thing he ever did was to marry Joan Stern on March 23, 1961.<br />
<br />
As their kids grew, Joannie was able to do some teaching, which was a natural for her.<br />
<br />
But then the same thing that drew her away from the working world the first time happened again: this time not as a wife and mother but as a grandmother. When the three brothers started having kids, Joanie's biological instincts kicked in again and she became a superstar grandmother, or Yia Yia in Greek.<br />
<br />
Off course she was ready, willing and able to baby sit whenever any of us wanted her to, but my Mom took being a grandmother to new heights.<br />
<br />
As soon as the kids were ready, they started what soon became some of the most special and treasured times in their young lives, Yia Yia days. Once a week, each grandchild would get a Yia Yia day.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6twS2vIyNTt5YAn4BxLL2xGRvBQfybgzffGFU35zMFooe56eUX4V9wwa1VNvN4hUcIe-xaVgkA2cWGrZ2FaX-YeqwYy3OKASLGV9-k4Lq_fpigrd8Pb4f2ArtuhcaPOKWwaPu1g_qLUA/s1600/Vasiliadis.+Joannie.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6twS2vIyNTt5YAn4BxLL2xGRvBQfybgzffGFU35zMFooe56eUX4V9wwa1VNvN4hUcIe-xaVgkA2cWGrZ2FaX-YeqwYy3OKASLGV9-k4Lq_fpigrd8Pb4f2ArtuhcaPOKWwaPu1g_qLUA/s320/Vasiliadis.+Joannie.jpg" /></a><br />
"Mom would pick them up either from home or school and spend the day with them doing an activity of their choice. Yia Yia days were spent at museums, libraries, restaurants, bowling alleys, arts and crafts shops, movie theaters, Chucky Cheese, or at Yia Yia's house baking."<br />
<br />
<b>Hostess with the mostest</b>
<br />
She had special dinners for family every Sunday night for 20 years and hosted other events for an extraordinary circle of friends, including my wife Young Soon and me. Not once did I ever spy anything unhealthy on her table: the cuisine looked good and was good for us. <br />
<br />
Vas and Joannie took good care of everyone around them—and of themselves. No one less deserved to be stricken with pancreatic cancer in 2008 than Joannie did. Mark, the physician in the family, found himself using his doctor's skills to aid his own dying mother. On the day of her diagnosis, Joan was shopping for a gift for a grandchild. She continued the task with aplomb.<br />
<br />
Young Soon and I had dinner with Vas and Joannie after her diagnosis. Her only concern was for the rest of us. <br />
<br />
Today, I'm facing my own cancer diagnosis. For details look elsewhere on this Blog. I can never be as brave as Joannie, but I can draw inspiration from her.<br />
<br />
Joan Vasiliadis (January 17, 1930-July 22, 2008) we loved you, and you influenced everyone you touched.
<b>
</b>Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-66160213498296909652016-03-12T18:34:00.002-05:002016-03-29T23:38:06.450-04:00Day One Five One. The Tumor Watch (Update)Here's an update.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_FLkrcyepDaep8JKiWPRUYBzKMLtxv2Iv8XMbYRTboyL1rDpYC8ThAmeItcv2mR10UkU2Kc1N-Fa92QmXGCUTxRRm-a6wILJRuxzHYsrYNN9BUMHnFSw_o5T2SIPqQ3diN47yD4xj6w/s1600/Bob+Standard+Author+Pic+11-11-04+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_FLkrcyepDaep8JKiWPRUYBzKMLtxv2Iv8XMbYRTboyL1rDpYC8ThAmeItcv2mR10UkU2Kc1N-Fa92QmXGCUTxRRm-a6wILJRuxzHYsrYNN9BUMHnFSw_o5T2SIPqQ3diN47yD4xj6w/s320/Bob+Standard+Author+Pic+11-11-04+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
In October, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor known as a Glioblastoma Multiforme.<br />
<br />
This type of tumor is always fatal. As one of my doctors, a sports fan, puts it, "It's undefeated."<br />
<br />
Depending on what you read, and how you respond to the three forms of treatment -- surgery, radiation and chemo -- life expectancy runs from three months to fifteen.<br />
<br />
I had brain surgery December 2 and completed radiation and chemo February 25.<br />
<br />
So far, I've experienced no discomfort, pain, or side effects.<br />
<br />
I've enjoyed sixty "straight" years of writing about the Air Force and aviation (interrupted only partially by a 25-year stint as a Foreign Service officer.) No one ever had a greater privilege than to write about Americans who fly and fight. I've donated my archives and some cash to charities that I support, including the Glenn L. Martin Maryland Aviation Museum and the Commemorative Air Force (CAF). These groups honor veterans, educate young Americans and inspire the public.<br />
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My most popular book is "AIR POWER ABANDONED," the story of the F-22 Raptor, Defense Secretary Robert Gates, General T. Michael Moseley, and Gates's firing of the Air Force leadership.<br />
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My murder mystery, "CRIME SCENE: FAIRFAX COUNTY" was published January. Both books can be gotten for Kindle, in print from Amazon, or, preferably directly from me. Price per book when ordered from me is $22. All proceeds are donated to the Capital Wing of the Commemorative Air Force, a 501(c )(3) charity.<br />
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I'm still mostly me. The tumor affects my ability to type and my speech. My speech is fully understandable and I'm urging friends to call at (703) 264-8950. I can still think, read, converse, and be taken out to lunch.<br />
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I'm focusing on three projects -- getting our family's personal photos in order, publishing items on this blog about people who've influenced my life, and, yes, completing yet another crime novel.<br />
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I have wonderful support from a terrific family plus the comfort of knowing so many friends out there. Thanks to you all.<br />
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<div class="p1">
Bob</div>
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<div class="p1">
(703) 264-8950</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
Robert F. Dorr</div>
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3411 Valewood Drive</div>
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Oakton VA 22124</div>
robert.f.dorr@cox.net<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-28080452390361132412016-03-11T11:17:00.001-05:002016-03-30T21:11:07.354-04:00Day One Five Zero. My Two Best-sellersEach is $22 from me. Also available on Kindle.<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-67015707727089758902016-03-07T20:32:00.002-05:002016-03-30T21:16:50.169-04:00Day One Four Six. Influence: WritersThe authors who influence me are creative and artistic—but more important, they work. They're working authors who place butt in chair and fingers on keyboard.<br />
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<b>Heavy volume</b><br />
One of them produces a million words a year (2,480 words per day) of finished prose ready to go into print. Several work in a variety of media from traditional books to graphic novels.<br />
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The key, for me, is that they are always working. That's what sets working authors apart from those who merely enjoy writing. When you can't afford the luxury of waiting to be inspired, when deadlines loom, when you have to work even when you don't feel like it, you're the real thing.<br />
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The three authors introduced here are members of Bob Deis's Facebook page devoted to men's adventure magazines. We're veterans of, or fans of, that genre of two-fisted writing and art that shaped us from the 1950s to the 1970s. Visit the site <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/187984097012/">here</a>.<br />
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Chuck Dixon, 61, is a longtime script writer for comics and graphic books who also writes fiction and has two book series going, See details <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_5_9?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=bad+times+chuck+dixon&sprefix=bad+times%2Caps%2C209">here</a>. I'm a big fan of his "Bad Times" series about former Army Rangers who undertake dangerous time-travel missions in search of treasure and adventure. His other series, the Levon Cade books, are dark tales of vigilante justice, Chuck has contributed over a thousand scripts to publishers like DC Comics, Marvel, Dark Horse, Hyperion and others featuring characters from Batman to the Simpsons.<br />
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James Reasoner, 62, warns new writers not to wait for inspiration. "My inspiration has always been to not have to go out and hold a real job," he said on an off day when he was completing one chapter of a book rather than his usual two daily. He has been at it for forty years. "There are not many of us who can keep doing this year after year."<br />
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<b>Prolific writer</b><br />
Reasoner writes in other fields but is especially well known as a Western writer with more than 200 books to his credit, under his name and various pen-names. Early in his career he wrote Mike Shayne novellas in Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine.<br />
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He is author of a ten volume series of novels about the Civil War plus other volumes about World War II.<br />
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One of Reasoner's recent achievements is an anthology of alternate history, "Tales From the Otherverse," located <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tales-Otherverse-James-Reasoner/dp/1519314272/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1457381562&sr=8-1&keywords=tales+from+the+otherverse">here</a>,<br />
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In 2014, after 60 years of writing non-fiction, I made my own attempt at alternate history with my book "Hitler's Time Machine," which is available from me, or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00R08P4UQ">here</a>. I was encouraged by the writers you see on this page. "Hitler's Time Machine" was so well received I felt I was on my way as a creator of fiction.<br />
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<b>About crime</b><br />
I wanted my next project to be a crime novel.<br />
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A favorite expert on crime is Paul Bishop, 60, another creative and very busy scribe, Learn about Paul <a href="http://www.paulbishopbooks.com/">here</a>.<br />
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Paul is co-creator of the popular Fight Card series of short fiction pieces designed to be read in one or two sittings. His novel Lie Catchers is worth a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lie-Catchers-Paul-Bishop/dp/151709643X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1457393746&sr=1-1">read</a>. If it appears to present police work realistically—albeit, with a catch—remember that Paul spent 35 years with the Los Angeles Police Department and was twice named Detective of the Year.<br />
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In 2015, I was ready to try my second work of fiction, a post-World War II crime novel featuring some of the characters in the "Hitler" book. <br />
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The new book "Crime Scene: Fairfax County," was all but finished when, in October, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. See my January 15 post for details on my health situation. I was able to complete "Crime Scene: Fairfax County" and you can get signed copies from me. I'm also working on the next book in the series.<br />
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It doesn't appear that time will permit me to proceed much farther with my series-character crime novels. We'll see. Whatever happens, I'm glad I made the move from traditional publishing to self-publishing and from non-fiction to fiction.<br />
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Meanwhile, watch these guys. They're really good.<br />
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Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-42091759395818192202016-02-25T09:08:00.004-05:002016-03-30T21:15:49.013-04:00Day One Thirty Six, Influence: Buzz MoseleyWhen Gen. T. Michael "Buzz" Moseley stepped down as Air Force chief of staff on August 1, 2008, troops lost a leader who gave everything he had to America's airmen. I wrote about nuclear accidents, Moseley's advocacy for the F-22 Raptor (and other robust systems)—and about his firing by Defense Secretary Robert Gates—in my book "Air Power Abandoned." Get a signed copy direct from me or find it for your Kindle.<br />
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<b>Fighter pilot</b><br />
Moseley is a fighter pilot and combat commander who rose to the top and was at ease among Washington bigwigs. He loves the Air Force and its traditions and is comfortable among airmen of all ranks.<br />
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On a ceremonial visit to France in May 1977, Moseley took along a contingent of crew chiefs and relatively junior pilots. He could have spent most of that trip hobnobbing with big shots. He chose to spend much of his time rapping with staff sergeants and captains. An affable man who drew genuine pleasure hanging out with the troops, Moseley enjoyed reminding airmen that they are part of history, part of something bigger than themselves.<br />
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In the end, Moseley was never able to spend enough time with the troops. Some of his efforts went awry, like an Airman's Creed that is all but incomprehensible. He might have had more time for everyday airmen if the nation hadn't been caught up in two wars and if the Air Force weren't feeling the strain from being in continuous combat since 1991.<br />
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Moseley wanted a new service dress uniform. Many liked the idea. More, it seemed, thought it was a waste of money while Americans were in battle in Iraq and Afghanistan.<br />
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I've witnessed the evidence that Moseley was right in wanting airmen to look more military. I watched a tourist in a hotel ask for directions from an Air Force colonel, in the belief that the colonel was a bellhop.<br />
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Moseley's critics didn't get it. The fact is, it costs very little more to introduce new service dress attire than to continue using the existing uniform. The chief's proposed change is apparently dead now, and we are the poorer for it.<br />
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<b>Maintenance</b><br />
Also dead is Moseley's plan to merge aircraft maintenance into flying squadrons. In part because of his sense of history and of how things were done in World War II, Moseley wanted crew chiefs and pilots closer to one another. Maintenance officers opposed the plan because it intruded on their turf. As with the dress uniform, Moseley was right and his critics were wrong.<br />
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Moseley's wanted to recapitalize the Air Force. Who could argue against that, when our average aircraft is now 24 years old, compared with 8 during the Vietnam era? His belief in the need for a new air refueling tanker was heartfelt and powerful.<br />
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Moseley also pushed hard for a new combat rescue helicopter and recused himself from the selection. Years later, we still have neither the tanker nor the helicopter.<br />
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To his credit, Moseley spent his tenure making the case that airpower is the decisive force in warfare and that the Air Force is a fighting service, not an appendage to the ground combat branches.<br />
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Critics may argue that Moseley's reach exceeded his grasp---that he leaves office with too many goals unfulfilled. But in my view, Moseley is a visionary who was right most of the time. Those who follow him have a high standard to meet.<br />
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Moseley had every right to leave his duties with his head high. We are all richer that he was among us.</div>
Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-30015135937625561932016-02-15T18:25:00.001-05:002016-02-15T19:04:49.076-05:00Day One Twenty Five. Influence: Robert Des Lauriers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Robert Des Lauriers was one of hundreds who fought America's wars and whom I interviewed later for books, magazine articles and newspaper columns between 1955 and 2015.<br />
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All were different. Few were as straightforward and as matter-of-fact as Bob when talking of being co-pilot of a four-engined B-17 Flying Fortress heavy bomber in battle high over the Third Reich.<br />
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My life has changed recently but those 60 years of writing history military may be my best contribution to the world, along with being an Air Force veteran (1957-60) and a Foreign Service officer (1964-89),<br />
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It took time to learn how. My training field was the men's magazine adventure genre of the 1950s to the 1970s where I learned to write about action in crisp, short sentences without the faux-patriotism, sentimentalism, and fawning over veterans that in later years became unfortunate fixtures in American life. You won't find me plugging the "greatest generation" pastiche or—that most irritating of habits—thanking someone for his service. After the men's magazines I wrote books—character-driven narratives of war— including one in which Bob Des Lauriers has a part.<br />
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<b>Brave deeds</b><br />
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B-17 bomber crews flew at altitudes, typically 28,000 feet, where temperatures were often below zero Fahrenheit—there was no point in carrying drinking water on the flight; it would freeze—and where oxygen was needed for survival. They not only flew there, they fought there. They were pitted against a formidable adversary with fighters, flak, training and discipline. "I saw a Nazi Me 262 jet fighter climbing behind us on over Nurnberg on February 21, 1945, and I thought, 'We don't have anything that like that. How can we fight that?'"<br />
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Bob was born in Waukegan, Illinois, went to high school after his family moved to California, and completed high school after the family moved to Hawaii in time to witness the December 7, 1941 Japanese attack. He played the trumpet, was in drama class, and saw Adolf Hitler in news reels. "I wasn't one of those people who always wanted to be a pilot. <br />
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I was interested in architecture."<br />
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Bob jointed the 34th Bombardment Group in England and flew 35 missions, apparently all with the same pilot, 1st Lt Dean Hansen. Later in life he was famous an an architect who designed many churches in Southern California.<br />
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He also designed mosques and schools. Before he died in 2013, Bob had become a friend and a fan of my history book, "Mission to Berlin."<br />
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When I think about what it took to climb aboard a freezing B-17 and venture into the high cold to face the Luftwaffe over Berlin, I will always be in awe. Bob Des Lauriers and his crewmates were very young men—it was possible to have a 10-man B-17 crew in which no one was yet old enough to vote—and they did what was asked of them.<br />
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I interviewed many who flew our most famous warplanes—B-24 Liberator, B-29 Superfortress, P-38 Lighting, P-47 Thunderbolt, P-51 Mustang, and the Korea era F-86 Sabre. I interviewed Americans who got into the air at Pearl Harbor. I interviewed the American who performed history's first helicopter combat rescue in Burma in 1944. And, yes, I interviewed many who fought in Korea and Vietnam. I became friends with recipients of the Medal of Honor. I covered wars in Panama, the Middle East, Sarajevo, and Somalia. I saw Americans at their best.<br />
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<b>Time of change</b><br />
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Around 2015, I wanted to make two major changes in my writing career. I wanted to change from traditional publishing to self publishing. And I wanted to change from history to fiction. I made both changes with my alternate history/science-fiction novel "Hitler's Time Machine," which you can get on Kindle or in hard copy directly from me.<br />
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In October 2015, I was diagnosed with a primary brain tumor called a Gliobastoma Multiforme—look it up <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glioblastoma_multiforme">here</a>. I had brain surgery in December and am now completing chemo and radiation therapy. This type of tumor is always fatal, typically within fifteen months with the kind of treatment I'm getting, In the meantime, there is always no pain or discomfort. I'm still here. I'll still me. I'm still doing most normal stuff. <br />
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You can still call me on (703) 264-8950 or take me out for lunch.<br />
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The aeronautical-minded among you will note that the model plane on my desk is flying east.<br />
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In January 2016—post surgery—my crime novel "Crime Scene: Fairfax County" was published. You can get it in kindle <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Crime-Scene-Robert-F-Dorr-ebook/dp/B01A2372B4/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=">here</a> or directly from me. This is the best way you can support me as I attempt to keep life meaningful—by writing yet another novel and blog entries like this—while enjoying family and friends and keeping spirits high.<br />
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I've trying to face my brain tumor the straightforward, matter-of-fact way Bob Des Lauriers faced Hitler's flak and fighters. Someone told me I'm brave. Not at all. But it became my fortune to walk among some of the bravest men who ever lived. Men like Bob are going to help me get through this.<br />
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<!--EndFragment-->Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-26522851406425492292016-01-31T18:53:00.000-05:002016-03-30T00:06:12.188-04:00Day One Hundred Nine. "A Handful of Hell""A HANDFUL OF HELL," subtitled "Classic War and Adventure Stories By Robert F. Dorr," is a big, bold, daring publishing event from the creative team of Robert Deis and Wyatt Doyle. It has just shown up on Amazon, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1943444072/ref=as_li_ss_tl?redirect=true&selectObb=new&linkCode=sl1&tag=menspcom-20&linkId=9605a60f5be940f0c51779c8505dd243">here</a>. Orders are being taken now.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZcGameVRanCnjU8GJXCS-aZU_oh_VgzGG3ldR2rBVUyd0ksiVLqfdtm4aZpdpnyfzUBGMU1sYWD5P5eRkQDi3oRV9kOOs0zPZFL-SQBFLGKSS3nfA4u6_hUayb4_idiE2_2P4nwiTpQ/s1600/A+HANDFUL+OF+HELL%252C+Robert+F.+Dorr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZcGameVRanCnjU8GJXCS-aZU_oh_VgzGG3ldR2rBVUyd0ksiVLqfdtm4aZpdpnyfzUBGMU1sYWD5P5eRkQDi3oRV9kOOs0zPZFL-SQBFLGKSS3nfA4u6_hUayb4_idiE2_2P4nwiTpQ/s400/A+HANDFUL+OF+HELL%252C+Robert+F.+Dorr.jpg" width="266" /></span></a><br />
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Like previous releases in The Men's Adventure Library, this book draws its inspiration from the men's adventure magazines that held a special place in our lives and on our drugstore magazine racks from the 1950s to the 1970s.<br /><br />This a new book that takes us back to an era with war and adventure were told about in graphic action with a strong human element.<br /><br /> Yes, I'm the author whose work appears here — it's a huge honor — but this isn't a book about me. It doesn't come from me. You can't get a copy from me.<br /><br /> As Wyatt Doyle says it:<br /> <br />
"For me, the great appeal of the stories in 'A HANDFUL OF HELL' is that even in heated battle scenes, with multiple planes in the air, a full flight crew to keep tabs on, and explosions all around, you never lose sight of the characters and what they're dealing with, both externally and internally. The technical authenticity of these stories never overpowers their human element. It's also a big part of what makes these stories stand out."<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">And what made the men's adventure magazines stand out was their emphasis on action, action, action, but always with human decision making at play.</span></div>
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<br /> The creators of this book, which its words and art drawn from the men's adventure magazines, believe they're accomplished something so powerful that it breaks out from the magazine genre that inspired it, Even if you've never held a copy of STAG, FOR MEN ONLY or BLUEBOOK in your hands — even if you're among the 63% who were born after these magazines vanished by the shelves— you're going to be drawn b the riveting approach and sweeping content, standing with the title story about about B-29 Superfortress radio operator Sgt, Red Erwin who literally and figuratively clasped "A HANDFUL OF HELL" to save his buddies.<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This a collector's item. It's unique. Nothing like it has been made before.</span></span><br />
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</span>When I got out of the Air Force in August of 1960, my plan was to be a writer and an adventurer. The first example of my work in men’s pulp adventure magazines was a story called “The Night Intruders,” published in Real, April 1962; it’s included as a bonus story in the hardcover edition of this collection. The magazine editors paid me $100 for the story, about a B-26 crew in the Korean War. That was the first of what became several hundred stories and articles in those magazines. I’m using the word articles somewhat loosely because almost all of them contained a great deal of fiction, though I tried to make them all seem as realistic as I could. I did the same thing with the first story in Real that I did with almost all of the later men’s adventure magazine stories and articles: I typed them up on 8½ by 11 typewriter paper on a manual typewriter, using white-out, booze, and cigarettes.<br /><br />I worked some part-time jobs in those years, but most of the time I was supporting myself with income from the men’s adventure magazines. (And, yes, from 1965 to 1989 I also had a real job). I wrote a lot for Magazine Management Co., which published Stag, Male, For Men Only, Men and others, and for Pyramid Publishing, which published Man’s Magazine and some other men’s adventure magazines. They usually paid me $350 per article, and $350 was pretty good. Not only was it pretty good then, it hasn’t gotten much better. There are plenty of fine, high-quality magazines that pay less today.<br /><br />In many cases, the stories included a great deal of imagination. That was typical of the genre. But to write for the men’s adventure magazines, it was necessary to have some knowledge of history. If you were going to write about World War II, you needed to know something about World War II. You could use your imagination for the story, but you had to have some of the key details right to please the editors and the readers.<br /><br />These magazines were read by regular guys. The fact that almost all of them happened to be veterans had something to do with shaping the content. These stories were being read by men who’d had similar experiences themselves. They had been there, done that, and when I wrote about warfare for them, I had to have the personalities and the details right and avoid puffery. <br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBJwruo3V1XHfnKnSRJjSK3m9uPfWaPmSJixEIg_ZqV67TTr-1qDMhMzzGc4U8m4-2o4Fo4Btw4_B2Utj2h6ENn6VsASmreln3n_YN-TW-dUoVqUXx9ck6JvkHg0rNYI5RlFg0BXpl_I/s1600/Author+Robert+F.+Dorr%252C+A+Handful+of+Hell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBJwruo3V1XHfnKnSRJjSK3m9uPfWaPmSJixEIg_ZqV67TTr-1qDMhMzzGc4U8m4-2o4Fo4Btw4_B2Utj2h6ENn6VsASmreln3n_YN-TW-dUoVqUXx9ck6JvkHg0rNYI5RlFg0BXpl_I/s400/Author+Robert+F.+Dorr%252C+A+Handful+of+Hell.jpg" width="400" /></a></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They wouldn’t tolerate having men like themselves overly glorified or to have war made glamorous, so I didn’t do those things.</span></div>
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More from Wyatt Doyle, co-editor and designer of "A HANDFUL OF HELL:"<br />
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“Dorr communicates his characters' fears, their uncertainty, the terrible losses fighting men suffer — in deeply human terms, putting readers not only in the scene, in the moment, but inside these men's thoughts. His accounts of these heroes drive the point home time and time again that these are not warriors, gladiators, or super-humans. These are our brothers, our buddies; they are us. It's a powerful sentiment, and one that can't be expressed enough. Reading these stories today, they have lost none of their potency.”<br />
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"A HANDFUL OF HELL" is available now as a 304-page trade paperback and as a limited edition hardcover with alternate cover art and 40 pages of additional material. An ebook edition is forthcoming.<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
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Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-78805994527874729932016-01-22T05:20:00.001-05:002016-03-29T23:53:23.671-04:00Day One Hundred Six. My new crime novelPublished this month!<br />
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The title: "CRIME SCENE: FAIRFAX COUNTY."</div>
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A murder story with a Washington twist.</div>
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Get it for your Kindle <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01A2372B4">here</a>.</div>
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For a signed hard copy direct from the author send $22.00 (by check or by using PayPal) to Robert F. Dorr, 3411 Valewood Drive, Oakton VA 22124, (703) 264-8950, robert.f.dorr@cox.net</div>
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Thanks for your support!</div>
Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-77411452262737589272016-01-17T16:20:00.001-05:002016-01-24T14:16:49.449-05:00Day One Hundred Four. Influence: Victor RookVictor Rook is the influence who helped me make a huge break into a whole new world after 60 years of writing books, magazine articles and newspaper columns the old way.<br />
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I wanted to leap from traditional to self-publishing. The old model for book publishing, which once<br />
brought literature to millions and relied heavily on chain book outlets, wasn't working so well any longer. The failure of Zenith Press to keep our war classic "HELL HAWKS" (co-authored with Thomas J. Jones) in print was the last straw for me. I wanted to self-publish and explore new avenues for promoting and selling books.<br />
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I met Victor in a Virginia writers group in 2014. He knew how to do all that stuff: cover design, text formatting, and more.<br />
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I am indebted to Victor for sharing the knowledge that gave me a new beginning as a writer. I then switched to self publishing and from non-fiction to novel writing.<br />
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Sadly, many self-published books out there are of poor quality. That should be an indictment on those of us to get it right. So if you're starting on the self-publishing path, you should consider adding Victor to help you.<br />
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My new self-published novels, "Hitler's Time Machine" and "Crime Scene: Fairfax County," turned a profit much faster than any traditional book could have done. They'll be followed soon by "CRIME SCENE: SUITLAND, MARYLAND." Guess who's designing the cover?<br />
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<b>My new friend</b><br />
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Victor Rook grew up in Western New York near Buffalo where he survived the Blizzard of 1977. He attended Michigan State University and received a BS in Mechanical Engineering and Computer-Aided Design. For 13 years he worked as a technical writer and corporate trainer for various companies in Michigan and D.C.<br />
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In 1998, Victor jumped ship and began his own company designing websites and producing videos.<br />
The jumping ship reference is his, but he adds, "I wouldn't say I turned my back on corporate America; I did what many entrepreneurs do. I set off to pursue my own dreams and creative endeavors."<br />
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His nature film, <a href="http://victorrook.com/gardenva/index.htm">Beyond The Garden Gate</a>, won two Telly Awards and aired on PBS for four years. While continuing to produce films, he began writing books.<br />
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His first book, <a href="http://www.victorrook.com/musings/">Musings of a Dysfunctional Life</a>, came about after his mother died in 2008. It's full of humorous and poignant recollections that anybody can relate to.<br />
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Vic's second book, <a href="http://www.victorrook.com/goodtimes/">In Search of Good Times</a>, is a novel about a man who believes that the sitcom families from "All in the Family" and "Good Times" are real, and sets off on a road trip to find them.<br />
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His third book is a compilation of satirical horror stories called <a href="http://www.victorrook.com/people/">People Who Need To Die</a>. In this book, society in the year 2021 is given permission to kill off bad drivers, spammers, obnoxious cell phone users, litterbugs, horrible bosses and more. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed "People Who Need To Die" and how much you'll admire the workings of this original mind. You can get your copy <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00O12R3B2?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B00O12R3B2&linkCode=xm2&tag=grestu0f-20">here</a>.<br />
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Victor also recently completed a craft book called <a href="http://www.victorrook.com/crafts/">Dollar Store Crafts & Recipes</a>.<br />
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Vic offers his <a href="http://www.victorrook.com/services/bookwork.htm">services </a>in graphic design and self-publishing to design other authors' book covers, edit and format their text, and get their books published on Amazon. That's right, he takes you through the entire publishing process. In 2014, influenced by Vic and other self-published authors, and disgusted by traditional publishing, I wrote my first self-published novel, an alternate history, science-fiction version of World War II titled "Hitler's Time Machine." Vic explained how to get an ISBN number, designed the cover, helped me connect with an editor, formatted the text, and facilitated communication with Amazon. I wrote "Hitler's Time Machine," but Victor made it happen. His eye-catching cover design is by itself worth the book, which in available on this Blog and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0986320005?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=0986320005&linkCode=xm2&tag=grestu0f-20">here</a>.<br />
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When he's not working on books and websites, Victor continues to photograph and videotape <a href="http://www.victorrook.com/woods/">nature</a> and area events.<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-19065152400587283412016-01-16T08:50:00.000-05:002016-01-16T11:37:13.021-05:00Day Ninety-Six. Influence: Andrew F. Antippas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When Saigon fell on April 30, 1975, the ops center in Washington was pandemonium.<br />
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Here's the official reason for the facility. The Department of State's Operations Center monitors world events, prepares written briefs for the Secretary of State, and facilitates communication between the Department and the rest of the world. It's manned by watch-standers who work in shifts to provide coverage around the clock. In a world where what floor you're on can sometimes determine your status, the Operations Center is on the seventh, or top, floor of the Department's 21st and Virginia Avenue, Northwest headquarters building in Washington. I worked in that building between tours of duty aboard for 24 years (1965-89) without ever knowing it was named the Truman Building.<br />
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I'd just completed my Foreign Service tour in Liberia, from 1974 to 1975, and was in temporary housing with my young family of four.<br />
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I didn't have a home. I didn't have "an assignment." There was unpleasantness about an article I'd published in the April 1975 issue of The AOPA Pilot magazine. Don't ask. You can see the magazine cover here, but don't ask.<br />
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Others with many years of experience couldn't remember any previous crisis that filled the Operations Center the way this one did.<br />
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<b>Ops center: pandemonium</b><br />
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Like so many who were rushed into the overcrowded Operations facility, I was being pressed into a temporary detail while awaiting a future, full assignment.<br />
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That made me part of the Indochina Task Force headed initially by Ambassador L. Dean Brown and later by Julia Valada Taft. Our initial estimate that that we were going to resettle 130,000 evacuees from Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam. In the end, we handled twice that number.<br />
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The United States had never before attempted a refugee effort of this magnitude. The effort had elements in common with resettlement after the 1956 Hungarian uprising but the Hungarian exodus involved fewer people, easier geography, and an established infrastructure for handling refugees. When Saigon fell, we suddenly had over a hundred thousand escapees, a figure that eventually doubled, many of them scattered at sea from Thailand to Guam. Our precedented mission was to resettle them, using the parole authority of the Attorney General to admit persons to the United States on a scale no one had imagined when that authority was placed into law.<br />
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My boss was Andrew F. Antippas, a smart, vocal, motivated figure who wasn't afraid to get into arguments, even when doing do was detrimental to his career. I was impressed by his integrity, outspokenness, and refusal to yield when somebody insisted that something couldn't be done. Andy wanted to be where the action was and at that moment, in a nation divided and bitter over our Vietnam legacy, a humanitarian crisis without precedent was that place.<br />
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I always wondered which Andy was the hard-headed and honorable leader I knew. Was it the Greek heritage, the Massachusetts-boy upbringing or the experience as a Korean War combat infantryman had shaped him?<br />
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Born September 28, 1931, a dual-graduate of Tufts University, Andy joined the Foreign Service in 1960, five years before me. He pulled early assignments in Douala, Cameroon, Bangui, Central African Republic and Osaka-Kobe, Japan.<br />
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His subsequent assignments were the ones that transformed him into into one of the State Department's most seasoned Southeast Asia hands. At some sacrifice, he took a posting as a political officer in the U. S. embassy in Saigon.<br />
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Unlike political hawks who believed they were fighting the true fight in Southeast Asia, Andy entered the war with mixed reactions. He was very aware of the drubbing the French had taken in Indochina. He was skeptical of the domino theory, which held that if one country fell to communists, others would. But right or wrong, Vietnam was where the action was, and Andy wanted to be where the action was.<br />
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Also unlike political hawks who rushed in where fools feared to tread, Andy knew war wasn't something you make haste to create.<br />
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The photo of five combat infantryman, with Andy standing at real center, comes from his period in infantry combat in Korea in 1953. In my mind I see the camaraderie on the men's faces as a mask for the the thousand-yard stare they aren't showing us. Having fought in one war gave Andy a realistic perspective on being in another.<br />
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<b>Difficult duty</b><br />
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Volunteering for Foreign Service duty in Saigon inflicted hidden costs that linger today. Andy volunteered to go to the American Embassy in 1967 with the assurance that he would serve as a political officer. Andy felt that success in the Foreign Service required experience in political reporting and analysis. Newly married, he volunteered without consulting his new bride, a significant personal error. Judy's immediate resentment stemmed from the fact that while she was willing to go to a war zone State Department dependents were not allowed in Vietnam due to the obvious physical dangers as well as the paucity of living quarters. Andy and Judy are still together today but Andy's decision to volunteer almost wrecked his marriage and created resentment that lasted for decades.<br />
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After Saigon, Andy took up a particularly difficult posting at the U.S. embassy in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. He explored Cambodia and its leadership as no one else on our side had. He became the "go to" expert on Cambodia at a time when that country's affairs were pivotal to any Southeast Asia solution. More than once, Andy had to tell his bosses they were wrong about some pending policy move. They listened but at times Andy may have paid a price for being right.<br />
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Following his tour in Phnom Penh, Andy and I met in 1972, when we were country desk officers at 21st and Virginia Avenue, me for Korea and he for Cambodia. Although he served in South Vietnam as well, Andy made an indelible mark as the State Department's expert on Cambodia. Later, when many became homeless. he felt strongly that the United States owed something to the people of Indochina who had been on our side and it would be wrong be betray them now.<br />
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We had other duties, but Andy and I were mainly tasked with solving the dilemma of those refugees who had not made it to U.S. soil, as many others had done at Guam or aboard U.S. ships at sea. Governments in Thailand, Singapore, Malaysia and especially the British colony of Hong Kong did not want to offer succor to the refugees who descended upon them. They wanted the United States to solve what they saw as a U.S. problem.<br />
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Andy doesn't remember it today, but I recall a conversation he had with a skeptic from another agency who'd been detailed to the Operations Center, apparently to undermine our mission to save souls in distress. How would we vet an unprecedented number of applications? What if common criminals, or spies, or, heaven forbid. communists, were to seize advantage of the authority we were using to move so many people into U.S. custody so rapidly?<br />
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"So your solution is to leave boat people stranded across ten thousand miles of ocean? Your solution is to strand refugees in a dozen countries that can't, or won't, resettle them?" Andy didn't like to he told something couldn't be done. "We can solve the problems. We can show what we're made of. We can prove that even in the worst of times, Americans can rise to the occasion. We can make this thing work."<br />
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<b>Refugee centers</b><br />
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Against some congressional opposition, the government set up four principal refugee processing centers on U.S. soil, one each at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas, Camp Pendleton, California, Indian Gap, Pennsylvania and Eglin Air Force Base, Florida. Andy remembers the Capitol Hill delegation from Arkansas as being especially concerned about tens of thousands of foreigners abruptly arriving on its turf.<br />
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As part of my work on refugees under Andy's tutelage, I spent July 1975 in the swamp at Eglin, living in a motel in Niceville, Florida, using a rental car and working in a tent supervising others who vetted refugee applications. "The American consul in Niceville," that was me. An important event happened in my family while I was swatting mosquitoes in Florida: My wife Young Soon gave a realtor an offer to buy a four-bedroom Dutch colonial house on Valewood Drive in Oakton, Virginia. I never saw the house. I gave my approval to its purchase in a Niceville telephone booth. We bought the house that year, 1975, and have lived in it ever since except for the years 1979 to 1987, where we were in Stockholm and London. <br />
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I continued working in a tent, certain that our refugee pool consisted of deserving people and families to whom, as Andy would say, we owned a great debt. I was also convinced we missed some of the good ones: Many who deserved a chance at freedom never got out of Indochina.<br />
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I returned to Washington, at first to the Operations Center and later to a new home in the refugee task task force elsewhere in the building. My stint in the refugee task force ended by the end of 1975. Andy stayed longer. Whether the memory is real or imagined, I cling to this image of Antippas and I, struggled in limited space in the Operations Center, using its communications resources to make things happen when others couldn't because we were willing to improvise.<br />
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For me, a traditional assignment came the following year, as North Korea watcher in the Bureau of Intelligence and Research from 1976 to 1979. That ended my refugee experience and my work with Andy.<br />
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Andy Antippas went from our refugee task force to other duties including charge d'affaires in Nassau Bahamas, consul general in Seoul, Korea, and consul general in Montreal, Quebec before retiring from the Foreign Service in 1992, (I retired in 1989).<br />
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I see in Andy a man of heart and honesty who rose very far in our nation's diplomatic corps but who might have gone farther, perhaps even becoming a household name but for his outspokenness. Together, we moved mountains.<br />
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Maybe twenty years later, that government stuff behind me, my writing career is full swing, I was walking my dog Lucy near our Valewood Drive house, the house Young Soon bought while I was moving refugees at Eglin. A neighbor I had never noticed before popped out to check his mailbox. That's how I learned that Andy and I had been neighbors for years. We are friends still. On this ninety-sixth day since I was diagnosed with a fatal brain tumor, Andy has been one of those friends who've been there for me<br />
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That's heart.<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-7812194141739160132016-01-08T05:33:00.000-05:002016-04-18T21:46:43.742-04:00Day Ninety-Five. Tumor Watch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Here's an update.<br />
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In October, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor known as a Glioblastoma Multiforme.<br />
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This type of tumor is always fatal. As one of my doctors, a sports fan, puts it, "It's undefeated."<br />
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Depending on what you read, and how you respond to the three forms of treatment -- surgery, radiation and chemo -- life expectancy generally runs from three months to fifteen.<br />
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I had brain surgery December 2 and completed radiation and chemo February 25.<br />
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So far, I've experienced no discomfort, pain, or side effects.<br />
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I've enjoyed sixty "straight" years of writing about the Air Force and aviation (interrupted only partially by a 25-year stint as a Foreign Service officer). No one ever had a greater privilege than to write about Americans who fly and fight. I've donated my archives and some cash to charities that I support, including the Glenn L. Martin Maryland Aviation Museum and the Commemorative Air Force (CAF). These groups honor veterans, educate young Americans and inspire the public.<br />
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My most popular book is "AIR POWER ABANDONED," the story of the F-22 Raptor, Defense Secretary Robert Gates, General T. Michael Moseley, and Gates' firing of the Air Force leadership. <br />
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My murder mystery, "CRIME SCENE: FAIRFAX COUNTY" was published in January. Both books can be gotten for Kindle, in print from Amazon, or, preferably directly from me. Price per book when ordered from me is $22. All proceeds are donated to the Capital Wing if the Commemorative Air Force, a 501(c )(3) charity.<br />
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I'm still mostly me. The tumor affects my ability to type and my speech. My speech is fully understandable and I'm urging friends to call at (703) 264-8950. I can still think, read, converse, and be taken out to lunch.<br />
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I'm focusing on three projects -- getting our family's personal photos in order, publishing items on this blog about people who've influenced my life, and, yes, completing yet another crime novel.<br />
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I have wonderful support from a terrific family plus the comfort of knowing so many friends are out there. Thanks to you all.<br />
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Bob</div>
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(703) 264-8950</div>
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<div class="p2">
Robert F. Dorr</div>
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3411 Valewood Drive</div>
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Oakton VA 22124</div>
robert.f.dorr@cox.net<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-9287934475169502302016-01-04T04:45:00.001-05:002016-05-25T18:05:00.494-04:00Day Eighty-Nine. Influence: Richard E. Ristaino<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I think of Richard E. Ristaino - who was Risty when we knew him in Korea but Dick later on - I think of the quick mind, wit, and brilliance of a much-respected CIA officer who might, instead, have been a great American novelist.<br />
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I wonder whether his stellar performance in the intelligence community gave him compensation for the novel he never finished. And I think of a really good guy who influenced my life in big ways while his own life, near the end, became derailed.<br />
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Our work together was in intelligence but Dick strongly influenced my interest in American literature.<br />
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We had other interests—including working the North Korean tactical air problem as American airmen in Korea from 1958 to 1960—so it would have been easy to miss our shared passion for American authors and their works.<br />
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I like to tell stories, In time I evolved into a writer of mostly non-fiction, using writing to tell the real-life experiences of Americans at war.<br />
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Dick had loftier goals. Dick wanted to write the Great American Novel. In the 1950s, when American literature was looked at somewhat differently than today, everyone knew that meant becoming the great Ernest Hemingway, Norman Mailer or James Jones. Included in that circle of authors was James Salter of "The Hunters," who wrote lean, sparse prose about men at war before lapsing as a literary dilettante with pretentious tales of love and betrayal. Almost a decade after Salter when Joseph Heller's "Catch-22" appeared, Dick saw instantly how Heller had disguised tragedy as farce.<br />
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<b>The late 1950s</b><br />
Dick and I met at the Army Language School (today's Defense Language Institute) at the Presidio of Monterey, California. The year was 1958.<br />
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My Korean language class included Joe Fives and me. Dick's class, the one behind mine, included Larry E. Harry. These names resonate throughout my reminiscences, along with with the names of Bill Randol, who studied Korean at Yale, and Jerome Curtis and Pierre Messerli whom I met after the Air Force. Put the six names together and Dick Ristaino, Joe Fives, Larry Harry, Bill Randol, Jerome Curtis and Pierre Messerli were my closest friends throughout life.<br />
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Among the six, Dick was the only friend who wanted to be a writer.<br />
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Dick helped steer me to the work of Hemingway, Mailer, Jones, Salter and Heller. He loved those tough guy writers. He also loved the camaraderie of military service, just as those men had: Like them, we were irreverent American citizen-soldiers, ready at once to die for our country but not willing see anything serious about military discipline. Our sergeants were vastly overweight, with nothing like today's fitness program in existence then; Dick thought up terrific jokes about one, whom we called Fudd. We were the young, smart guys—through provenance, granted security clearances our bosses did not possess. It was hard for them to extract military conduct from us when they knew not what we were doing. I have no doubt that from the moment he arrived in Korea, Dick intended to write a book based on our experiences.<br />
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Perhaps more than any other author, we were influenced by Jere Peacock, who wrote "Valhalla" and "To Drill and Die." Peacock never received the recognition he deserved but he wrote with brilliant precision about the post-Armistice Korea we experienced, which was not quite peace and was not exactly war.<br />
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In Korea from 1958 to 1960, we monitored and studied North Korea's tactical air forces. We were upstarts. We caroused and drank. But we were damned good at the job use gave us and we took pride in it.<br />
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One day we were watching the morning mission take off, sitting outdoor in front of a Quonset when Dick pulled out a short story he'd written and let me look at it. He was aiming at a high-end, literary men's magazine like Esquire. (My own writing for the low-end men's adventure magazines had not yet met its first sale). I thought Dick's story was ready for publication but Dick balked at submitting it to a magazine. He continued to write stories and fragments of a novel.<br />
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Here's where it gets complicated with Dick. Where, for him, was the line between being an aficionado of American literature and becoming a creator of it? Dick soaked up every detail of what contemporary writers were doing, read their works, discussed their works and stayed alert for next developments. But while he talked of writing his own novel, did he ever sit and spend the lonely, long hours trying to make it happen? My photo above shows wife Marcia and daughter Elizabeth on the balcony of our flat in London, England in 1986. Today, neither Marcia nor Elizabeth is in possession of any long manuscript that emerged from Dick's typewriter.<br />
<br />
I have no doubt Dick processed the thoughtfulness and talent to produce a great novel. But did his recalcitrance about showing his shorter works halt him in his tracks when it came to producing something long? Did his successes elsewhere prevent him from expending the effort toward<br />
success where he craved it the most?<br />
<br />
<b>The early 1960s</b><br />
I spent most of 1960-65 in San Francisco., Dick was in San Francisco much<br />
of that time and often accompanied me on trips to my post office box to see, "whether Bob received any money from Phil Hirsch today." <br />
<br />
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I was being published in the men's adventure field. Phil, the editor of MAN'S, was my main benefactor. A check from his magazine, arriving magically in my P. O. box, was sometimes the difference between making the rent and having to stall. Dick was writing but not selling and not talking about his work. Never outgoing, he preferred to hold his literary aspirations to himself. How hard was he working at it? It was difficult to know.<br />
<br />
We lived life large in the early 1960s, those final years before the middle of the decade when Dick and I had to give our writing aspirations a back seat to serious government jobs. The Great Monopoly Scandal reportedly separately in my memoir about Bill Randol, was just one of our alcoholic hi-jinks.<br />
<br />
Dick moved to Hawaii to study at the East West Center. There he met Marcia Reynders. They were a great match. The future Marcia Ristaino became an author in Chinese academe, including "China's Art of Revolution: The Mobilization of Discontent, 1927 and 1928." Marcia is lovely and brilliant; they had many years of happiness ahead before the derailment came. They had a fine daughter, Elizabeth. Both Dick and Marcia were CIA officers and both were much-respected. It would be impossible to exaggerate the superb reputation Dick held for his work on a subject I won't name. Nobody ever had stronger reason to postpone writing a novel on the side.<br />
<br />
In 1965, I returned to Washington to join the Foreign Service, where no one minded that I wrote men's adventure stories on the side. Dick and Marcia were a couple but not not yet wed when The Great Fish Fry was held at Marcia's house in Alexandria, Virginia.<br />
<br />
My father had gone out on the Chesapeake Bay with his fishing pole, or whatever the hell you use to catch fish, and had brought home an ice chest of succulent grouper. I took the fish, minus Dad, to Marcia's on a hot summer night and Dick, Marcia, Betty Nash McGiver and I were still consuming fish and alcohol after dawn. The Great Fish Fry was such a grand event that when I asked her about it recently, Marcia could no longer remember the occasion. I hope Betty Nash's memory is similarly afflicted.<br />
<br />
During that period, I worked hard to create chances to write. On numerous occasions, I knew that Dick, too, was working away with typewriter ribbon, carbon paper and white-out ink. But we both had other preoccupations.<br />
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I knew Dick's talent was larger than mine. But I was receiving checks from publishers. I wondered if Dick were holding back, wanting to experience government work before darkening some publisher's transom.<br />
<br />
From 1965 to 1967, I completed my first Foreign Service tour in Madagascar. When I returned, Dick and Marcia were married and living on Kalorama Road in northwest Washington. At a party at their place, they introduced me to fellow CIA officer Mary Cinek. I later took Mary on a date. Only a total buffoon like me could take a girl to see the movie "Grand Prix," with its incessant engine noises and 2-hour, 50-minute running time. In the summer of 1967, I brought my first car, a green 1967 Ford Mustang. Having several weeks of home leave following the Madagascar assignment, I drove that car 18,000 miles in seven weeks, visiting all forty-eight contiguous states and Canada and Mexico. I sent Mary postcards from this solo travel journey. I don't recall whether we ever met again. My next Foreign Service assignment was Korea, from 1967 to 1969 and my car became only the second Mustang in Korea. As for Mary, I was more interested in her than she in me so like Gertrude Stein's Oakland
<br />
after you got there, there wasn't any there there. Photo on Kalorama depicts, left to right, Dick Ristaino, Mary Cinek and Marcia Ristaino.<br />
<br />
In 1968, I met my wife Young Soon,<br />
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While I labored as a diplomat, Dick matured as an intelligence officer. Briefly (1986-87), Dick and I worked together in the Bureau of Intelligence and Research in the Department of State. We still found plenty of time to survey the world of American literature. Norman Mailer's "Advertisements for Myself" was a favorite topic of discussion. Mailer, it seemed, was running for title of Greatest American Writer as if waging a political campaign.<br />
<br />
In 1997 James Salter's "The Hunters" was re-released after having been held out of print for decades at the author's request. Because I'd published a history of the F-86 Sabre, the great fighter Salter flew, I was invited to the launch party, held in Washington. I invited Dick to join me, We were excited to meet a author who, by then was a top American literary figure. Salter was not the talkative type, nor for that matter was Dick, but Dick cornered Salter and elicited from him insights on how he lived and worked.<br />
<br />
<div class="p1">
In August 1998, while living in Norfolk, Bill and Polly Anna Randol organized a mini-reunion of our squadron in Korea, the 6929th Radio Squadron Mobile. Back row, from left: Richard E. Ristaino (June 22, 1937-October 1, 2008); Larry E. Harry (October 1, 1938-February 4, 2002); Polly Anna Randol. Front row: Young Soon Dorr, William T. Randol (May 22, 1939-March 9, 2008), Robert F. Dorr. As reported elsewhere on these pages, cancer survivor Larry succumbed to a heart attack in 2002 and Bill was diagnosed with ALS two years later.<br />
<br />
<b>The derailment</b><br />
Before he started showing up with his own cancer symptoms, Dick developed an issue with alcohol that altered his behavior around everyone, especially those dearest to him. An incident in 1999 led to an estrangement between Dick and me. When Dick had surgery on December 4, 2001,<br />
I expressed concern not by phoning Dick but by writing to Marcia. The medical stuff went into remission for a time. The demon rum, which may have prevented the great novel from appearing also caused Marcia, with much regret, to divorce Dick after decades of love and respect.<br />
<br />
Eventually, Dick and I reconciled. On January 15, 2007, I had lunch with Dick at a familiar restaurant a mile or so from Central Intelligence Agency headquarters at Langley, Virginia. One topic of conversation was Clint Eastwood's "Letters from Iwo Jima," which Dick believed was the better of Eastwood's two companion Iwo Jima movies. As always, Dick was up to date of the latest books and movies. But speech came slowly to him. Never a big man, he seemed smaller. <br />
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While we maintained high spirits and an upbeat mood, it was obvious that Dick was ravaged by disease. It was the last time we met.</div>
<br />
My photo of "The Hunters" is a hokey British cover rather than the more sedate 1990s version. <br />
<br />
Salter sent it to me with a note saying, incorrectly I believe, that the book "could be written better." Salter, a screenwriter with "Downhill Racer" to his credit, hated the Robert Mitchum movie, as we all did.<br />
<br />
More on author Salter: Sadly, Salter and I had differences over payment for the photos I provided in his memoir, "Gods of Tin." <br />
<br />
Editor Jack Shoemaker at Counterpoint Publications attempted to make peace, a rare instance of the editor being the good guy, but my friendly links to Salter never recovered, even while my respect for his work never wavered. When Salter died on January 19, 2015, the Washington Post quoted me: 'When 'The Hunters' was republished in the 1990s, military historian Robert F. Dorr pronounced it 'the finest work ever to appear in print — ever — about men who fly and fight.'"<br />
<br />
Dick and I enjoyed decades of fine moments together and much if it revolved around American literature where Dick was both a mentor and a powerful influence in my life.<br />
<br />
Watch for typos, please. Eighty-nine days have elapsed since I was diagnosed with a primary brain tumor. Typing is becoming harder,<br />
<br />
Richard E. Ristaino (June 22, 1937-October 1, 2008), I owe you plenty. Yes, you were one of the major influences on my life, and more.<br />
<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-65412893230251220562015-12-31T22:33:00.001-05:002016-01-01T15:10:02.689-05:00Day Eighty. Influence: William T. RandolThis is a long story about one of the most important influences in my life. The main photo depicts Bill and Polly Anna Randol visiting our Oakton home on July 1, 1992. The story begins earlier.<br />
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<b>Bill Randol, Hill 170, Osan Air Base, Korea, April 1, 1960</b>:<br />
<br />
"Let's trick him," said Larry Harry.<br />
<br />
"Too easy," said Dick Ristaino.<br />
<br />
The "jeep"—the term for a newcomer—was a fine-looking fellow but dour. We did not yet see the gangling, goofy Bill with a unique humor and an artistic flair who would always live life a little off key until he met the magnificent Polly Anna, or P. A., 30 years from now.<br />
<br />
To make matters worse, this new guy had studied the Korean language at Yale.<br />
<br />
Wusses. Real men went to the Army Language School at Monterey, where weekends meant meaningless shooting on the firing range or cultivating the ice plant around the base commander's residence. Only wusses went to Yale where weekends meant...well...co-eds.<br />
<br />
Harry, Ristaino and I gave the "jeep" a test of knowledge he was expected to possess working the North Korean tactical air problem. For example, if a pilot said he was lowering flaps to 45 degrees, his regiment was upgrading to the MiG-17 because the flaps on the MiG-15 extended only to 40. But instead of using actual facts like that one, we gave our test subject a fake test about stuff that wasn't real. And we waited for him to squirm. A "jeep"and a Yalie. What a combination. We were lowering ourselves.<br />
<br />
After about twenty minutes, the "jeep" admitted being stumped. His wit and humor would become evident later, but this was not that time. We'd planned to reveal our little joke but the moment never arrived. Bill was hostile. Larry, Dick and I were enmeshed in the embarrassment we'd created for ourselves. This would not be our last practical joke together, but it was the last no one enjoyed.<br />
<br />
When we performed our real-world duties, nobody was better than Larry, Dick, Bill or I. I'm no fan of the faux patriotism or fawning over veterans that began when we replaced the citizen-soldier with the warrior ethos. In our era the threat was real, very young men went to difficult places to confront it, and I'm proud to have been an American airman—no title means more—with men like Joe Fives, Larry Harry, Martin Doerfler, Dick Ristaino and Bill Randol.<br />
<br />
<b>Bill Randol, Tara Thai Restaurant, Vienna, Virginia, April 5, 2004</b>:<br />
<br />
Forty-four years later, Colonel Larry Harry is interred at Fort Rosencrans, all honor to his name. Dick is a retired Central Intelligence Agency and Department of State officer living with Marcia in Maryland. I'm a retired Foreign Service officer and author living with Young Soon in Virginia. Bill is a artist, wood-carver and photographer living with Polly Anna in Albuquerque—oh, how they love that hot-air balloon festival!—but for some reason they are visiting Baltimore. Why?<br />
<br />
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Why Baltimore? For the first time in too long, Bill, Dick and I are able to get together to savor spicy Thai food and get caught up on personal and family news.<br />
<br />
The three of us sit in a corner of the restaurant. Bill explains that he and Polly Anna had some tests on him back home. They were pretty sure, then. But certainty meant being tested by the best. Bill had been visiting Johns Hopkins.<br />
<br />
The crispy spring rolls arrived.<br />
<br />
"I have ALS," said Bill Randol.<br />
<br />
It was a total surprise to me but I understood what it meant. My initial reaction will forever haunt me.<br />
<br />
Dick apparently didn't recognize the term.<br />
<br />
Many Americans don't.<br />
<br />
Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS, is a disease of the parts of the nervous system that control voluntary muscle movement. In ALS, motor neurons (nerve cells that control muscle cells) are gradually lost. As these motor neurons are lost, the muscles they control become weak and then nonfunctional.<br />
<br />
<div class="p1">
The word “amyotrophic” comes from Greek roots that mean “without nourishment to muscles” and refers to the loss of signals nerve cells normally send to muscle cells. “Lateral” means “to the side” and refers to the location of the damage in the spinal cord. “Sclerosis” means “hardened” and refers to the hardened nature of the spinal cord in advanced ALS.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
In the United States, ALS also is called Lou Gehrig’s disease, named after the Yankees baseball player who died of it in 1941. In the United Kingdom and some other parts of the world, ALS is often called <i>motor neurone disease</i> in reference to the cells that are lost in this disorder. Even in the United States, where there has been some overdue heightening of awareness, the abbreviation is more likely to be recognized than is the link to a ballplayer from a forgotten era.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
At Yankee Stadium on July 4, 1939, Gehrig gave a brave pubic address about "the bad break I got" and yet in spite of it, how, "I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth." Many Americans remember Gary Cooper's version of the speech in the film "The Pride of the Yankees" (1942) even though Gehrig's was the more eloquent.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
The main-course Thai chicken-with-basil appeared while Bill explained the disease to Dick. I was envisioning how ALS relentlessly wears down your ability to function. It takes everything from you—ultimately, breath itself.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
And my reaction? "It's statistically impossible for more than one of the three people at this table in this Thai restaurant to have ALS. Thank you, thank you."</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Because ALS is the worst thing that can happen to you.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Remembered Polly Anna: "We were living in Albuquerque's East Mountains. I retired from the federal government in 2001—we were in Norfolk—and we moved to the East Mountain area then. After years of disturbing symptoms, seeing several doctors of several specialties, Bill received the first ALS diagnosis in February 2004. Then in late March we went to Johns Hopkins where Bill saw Dr. Jeffrey Rothstein and received confirmation of the ALS diagnosis. We moved to Keizer, Oregon in September 2005 because Oregon had always seemed like 'home' to Bill so that's where he wanted to settle for the remainder of his life."</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
The disease robbed Bill of his ability to use his hands—wood carving, photography—so he struggled for work-arounds. Polly Anna would use Bill's ideas to get the set-up and then it might be her finger on the shutter.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
On September 11, 2006, Bill called me to extend birthday greetings. On September 21, 2006, I called Bill who was receiving a visit from Marty Doerfler. "I use a walker most of the time now. We have a manual wheelchair in the back of the car. I have a power chair. We've getting a converted van to carry the chair."<br />
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Said PollyAnna: "To the end, he remained engaged and active in things that mattered to him—family and friends (he telephoned dozens of them during his last week), music (his opera recordings were playing during the week he was approaching death), politics (we'd just sent letters to our congressional representatives a week before) and photography (I'd just mailed a calendar proposal to a publisher a week earlier)."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Bill died on March 9, 2008.<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b>Bill Randol, San Francisco, 1962:</b><br />
<br />
Had things gone differently, life might have begun and ended for Bill Randol with fulfillment of the American Dream—especially if looks and money were all that mattered.<br />
<br />
He had both. His 1963 wedding to Sue Randol brought with it everything looks and money could buy for you—a suburban bungalow, paid for in cash, the required TR-4 sports car—half a decade before I would own a car of any kind—and the giant, road-hugging station wagon for those Saturday shopping days. The marriage produced two fine children—I was in the hospital when son Jeff was born in 1964 but away in Madagascar by the Jennifer arrived two years later. The marriage produced everything that any American might want although, in those dying years of the one-income household there preexisted a strong presumption that the husband was supposed to have some interest in a profession, or a career—or at least a job.<br />
<br />
A job. You know. Nine to five.<br />
<br />
Had Bill remained enmeshed it that trap, he would've figuratively died while remaining physically alive. He had the perfect world and it didn't interest him. Hell, Sue didn't even care for opera, one of Bill's dozens of lifelong interests. I'm writing this on Day Eighty since my own diagnosis of a fatal brain tumor: I'm going to spend every minute on the interests I love. Bill was able to do exactly that and to know freedom, even after becoming fatally ill, because he refused to be boxed in.<br />
<br />
We'd done what our nation asked. As American airmen we'd made a difference. Today, no terrorist group has any realistic prospect of destroying the United States. In our era, men in Moscow were prepared to and could have. The American citizen-soldier stopped them.<br />
<br />
Mustering out at Travis Air Force Base, California in August 1960 a month before my 21st birthday, I received four, one-hundred dollar bills. It was the largest amount I had ever possessed. I spent part of it to see the movie "Ocean's Eleven," with Frank Sinatra.<br />
<br />
When Bill followed about a year later—and although he was discreet about it—he was wealthy. Bill's looks and his money were perhaps the worst possible combination for him to make the best start in post-military life. Money, especially, was a burden to the man Bill would become, as described by Martin Doerfler:<br />
<br />
"Bill was a renaissance man. wood carver, professional photographer of great skill, long hall truck driver, auto racer (not as good), a great father to Jeff and Jennifer through all his marriages and girlfriends. He was erudite, a voracious reader, a student of history and politics and too damn pretty for his own good." Bill was wrong for a job or a career. Bill's shared experience with me as an airline agent with Pacific Southwest Airlines in 1963 was one of his last experiments with a job. Bill and I had a running wager afterwards about which of us could avoid holding a job longest. <br />
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My wish to support myself writing for magazines collided with my interest in the Foreign Service. I lost the wager with Bill in 1965.<br />
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Bill lived briefly in the Baker Acres boarding house in San Francisco where, in 1962 I met Pierre Messerli and Jerome B Curtis. One evening couples were carousing in the street. I looked out and saw Bill passionately kissing the boarding house occupant I thought was my girlfriend.<br />
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I think he had a trust fund from his father, source of the Randol surname and by then long deceased. His mother had since married an unpleasant man named Sture-Vasa. They lived in San Barbara. Their relationship with Bill was strained.<br />
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A year after Larry Harry and I hitchhiked across the United States in a westerly direction, Bill and I crossed the nation eastbound in his 1962 Corvair. Somewhere, lost now, is a magnificent photo of this great car pausing at Kingman, Arizona. There was some mean-spiritness during this journey with us arguing about trivial issues such as which ashtray to use for our Marlboro Reds. As we grew farther east, it became cold. An awful incident involving a snow tire chain wrapped around the Corvair's axle stranded us in snowy West Virginia mountains for hours. We eventually reached our destination, my parents' home in Maryland. Why did we made this trip? I no longer remember.<br />
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After Bill's marriage to Sue—all of these post-Air Force events occurred in San Francisco—came the day when Dick Ristaino dropped by and we organized an evening game of Monopoly, enhanced by heavy alcohol and practical jokes. Dick was on his way to the East West Center in Hawaii for studies toward becoming a Central Intelligence Agency officer. The discovery that Dick could cheat at Monopoly—yes, cheat at Monopoly—may have offered Sue her overdue, final clue that the American dream was not the American dream. Because of the Great Monopoly Cheating Scandal—Bill, Dick and I were all cheating merrily that evening and loving it—Dick and I were never again encouraged to darken Sue's doorstep.<br />
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We drank heavily in those days of our youth. For most of us, alcohol did not affect our later lives. For Sue Randol and for Dick Ristaino, it did.<br />
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The Randol couple tried purchasing and owning a motel—"Clear Lake Resort," on that great body of water just north of Marin County. This appears to be where the American dream came imploding upon itself. Martin Doerfler arrived for a visit to discover that Sue lived there but Bill no longer did.<br />
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<b>Bill Randol on the move, 1962:</b><br />
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I used friends' names and likenesses in men's adventure magazine articles. Bill Randol appeared in the August 1963 issue of STAG magazine in a made-up saga of a B-17 Flying Fortress crew that was "RAMMED OVER BERLIN." <br />
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"RAMMED" is scheduled to re-appear in a collection of my stories being released by the brilliant creative team of Bob Deis and Wyatt Doyle in January 2016. <br />
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Watch for details on the Facebook page devoted to men's adventure magazines.<br />
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These magazines were popular, were sold on drugstore newstands, and promoted a mix of virility and fantasy. The articles were a training ground for authors that included Mario Puzo, Stephen King, Bruce Jay Friedman, Lawrence Block, and me. A typical story could bring the author $350.00, which is as well as some magazines pay today. I will always be grateful for what I learned writing in the men's adventure genre.<br />
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A 1966 photo, not used here, shows that Bill visited my parents in D.C. that year. I was in Madagascar.<br />
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In 1978, Bill was in northern California married to second wife Lelani. If memory serves, Lelani filled one gap for Bill: she shared his taste for opera. My photos of the two of them, not used here, plus the day I spent with them, suggest a marriage meant to last an hour and a half. I have a photo of Bill's third wife Sandra—the only one of his mates I never met. A close association between Sandra's parents and Bill's children helped to builds Bill's ties to Oregon.<br />
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<b>Bill Randol and P.A. Randol</b>:<br />
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Polly Anna was a Defense Department career training administrator when she and Bill met in April 1990. Bill had just moved from Livermore California to Albuquerque and went out ballooning with the folks Polly Anna, or P.A., had been ballooning with. By June 1990, they were all but living together. They were married on April 20, 1991 in a five-balloon wedding on a mesa just west of Albuquerque. If you've got t have a statistic, she's wife number four.<br />
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Bill "wanted someone to love him, warts and all," said P.A. He had finally found that soulmate. "I never had any doubt that Bill and I were meant to be together. I'm not sure what might have transpired if we'd met earlier. We would have been different people then. By the time we met, all of our life experiences had made us who we were. Absent those experiences, good and bad, we might not have been the right fit. I'm just grateful to have had the 18 years we had together. I never, never doubted his love for me or mine for him."<br />
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On October 1, 1994, I visited Bill and P. A. Randol and traveled from their Albuquerque home with Bill to the Trinity Site on the White Sands Range where the first nuclear device had been donated (on July 16, 1945), The site is typically open to the public just twice a year. I had previously visited Hiroshima and Nagasaki. My second photo depicts the Renaissance man Bill at the height of his game: Preparing to photograph the Trinity Site, Bill is a little loose, a little goofy, and as serious about his art as a stroke. He's a hugely-looking guy in a way that no longer matters as it once it did. By this point Bill has spent more or all of his estate but it no matters because it never had mattered: money never mattered to Bill, not ever, not a hoot. Marty and Carol were also visiting the Randol couple that day but chose to go to the Balloon Fiesta instead of the atomic site.<br />
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For a time, Bill and P.A. lived in Norfolk. In August 1998, they organized a reunion of the Korea-based "6929th Radio Squadron Mobile 38th years later"—exactly the span since Larry Harry, Dick Ristaino and I had manufactured a mock test for a "jeep." "Bill and I thought up this quiet, low key way of getting you guys together," said P.A. By then, Larry was undergoing cancer treatment and Dick was soon to experience the same.<br />
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The black and white photo of airmen in Korea includes, from left, Alex Knoj, Bill Randol, two faces in the background, Dick Ristaino, Martin Doerfler and Larry E. Harry.<br />
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A photo of Robert F. Dorr. Joe Fives and Bill Randol, taken in September 1999, marks a large party for the 40th wedding anniversary of Young Soon and me. Because of an issue involving alcohol that evening, there occurred a temporary disrupt of my long friendship with Dick Ristaino. Bill Randol thought I was over-reacting. Bill's smooth voice of reason helped set the way for a reconciliation, which is why Dick and I were together for Bill when he revealed his diagnosis.<br />
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William T. Randol (May 22, 1939-March 9, 2008), you influenced my life.<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-10093251899360079052015-12-26T04:58:00.001-05:002015-12-26T15:56:46.158-05:00Day Seventy-Five. Influence: Jerome B. CurtisEverything I know tells me that Jerome B. Curtis lost his life at age forty-five in a crash of a civilian C-46 Commando attempting to land on a road at Mazatlán, Mexico in 1976, probably on November 21. At one time, his mother and girlfriend had copies of the crash report. <br />
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He'd taken off from Long Beach alone without informing anyone. It looked like a drug-smuggling flight (presumably on the return leg). None of us wanted to believe it. It had to be some kind of operation for the government, we told ourselves.<br />
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Curtis always flew on the right side of the law.<br />
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<b>Or did he?</b><br />
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I met Curtis when living in a boarding house called Baker Acres in the Pacific Heights sector of San Francisco in 1962. Here, I also met another lifelong influence, Pierre Messerli. Pierre was a computer programmer for United Airlines, working on an IBM 1401 that filled several rooms.<br />
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Curtis was an international adventurer.<br />
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A graduate of the University of California at Berkeley in which I had a huge interest in those days, Curtis was one of those Americans always lining up for a civilian job overseas, where income was not taxable and monthly earnings could top $750.00. In the Army (October 2, 1953 to October 31, 1955), Curtis had been a first lieutenant responsible for tug boats in the South Korean port of Inchon (today's Incheon) so his first jobs were in the ship business. But Curtis wanted to fly.<br />
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In San Francisco, we hung around in surplus military field jackets—two veterans of post-Armistice Korea looking to find action somewhere.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Hanging around</b><br />
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With his "Terry and the Privates" lust for the exotic East—the women were part of the lure in an era where attitudes were different—Jerome B. Curtis had been born a decade too late — in manner of speaking. He should have been one of the guys we knew like Wally Gayda (my contact in Hong Kong) and Dave Lampard (a roustabout pilot)—who got started in Troop Carrier Command, stayed in China as civilians after the war and flew for the Nationalist Chinese from 1945 to 1950. Theirs were the grand adventures. Dave wrote a book about it,"Last Plane from Peking." The Central Intelligence Agency and its predecessor lay behind nail-biting flying adventures of this post V. J. Day generation.<br />
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When we met in 1962, Curtis was rapidly spending every penny he'd saved to go the shortest route from a private pilot rating to a full Air Transport Rating in the Boeing 727, all in just weeks. He lived across the hall from me in the boarding house and much of our talk was about flying. I made a fictitious character out of him in a men's adventure story in the September 1964 ESCAPE TO ADVENTURE. He's the made-up "Captain Winthrop" named on the cover.<br />
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But Curtis's real-life adventures were...well...more adventurous than those in the mag. Maybe Wally Gayda, while in World War II, really had shot down a Japanese Zero from his C-47 using a Browning Automobile Rifle—as Wally claimed all his life and no one believed—but Curtis's generation had Southeast Asia.<br />
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Curtis had other jobs included including piloting a DC-4 Skymaster in Libya, But the small, romantic war in Southeast Asia was where were we all wanted to go in the mid-1960s.<br />
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<b>Authoring creds</b><br />
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How much did Curtis know about authors? He'd met Robert Crichton and believed that if I could advance beyond the men's adventure magazines I could rise to Crichton's level. No one achieves that, but I tried. Curtis devised a modest scheme where he would lend me a couple of thousand dollars and I would head off to Southeast Asia to cover the war. He came out ahead on this investment.<br />
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Curtis's confidence in my potential as a writer led to my January-March 1963, travels to Tokyo, Seoul, Taipei and Hong Kong. By then, Curtis had taken a job in Tokyo—his last non-flying job—so I spent time with him there. My efforts to create a business-magazine article about All Nippon Airways yielded interviews with top officials, but no article resulted. So much for me as a writer about business. In Hong Kong, World War II and post-war pilot Wally Gayda introduced me to people who wanted to encourage a new writer but I never again attempted the Business Week model.<br />
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In Hong Kong for almost two months, I received offers that would enable me to continue pounding my Olivetti Lettera-22. There was the offer of a small, script-writing stint on "The Seventh Dawn," then filming on Kuala Lumpur with William Holden and Susannah York. There was Dave's offer to get me to Vientiane in his Byrd and Sons DC-3. But by the time the offers came, I had only a return ticket from Hong Kong, and, men's adventure magazines or not, no money.<br />
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I was going to have to return to San Francisco and look for a job. Bill Randol wearing his Pacific Southwest Airlines uniform greeted me on arrival at San Francisco in March 1963. I worked briefly for PSA. Back from Tokyo at abut the same time, Curtis again bade so-long to the Bay Areas as he departed Oakland in his Byrd & Sons DC-3, destination Vientiane. Byrd & Sons, like Air America, was the CIA cover for a new generation of maverick pilots.<br />
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I never made it to Southeast Asia. <br />
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My international adventures, if you want to call them that, were with the government, my State Department duties beginning in Tananarive, Madagascar from 1965 to 1967. Curtis was amused that in Tananarive (today's Antananarivo) I'd found a more exotic name than those of those where he was flying in Laos. But Madagascar was, alas, a place to miss out on everything—the Free Speech Movement, the draft call-ups, the sexual revolution and the massive Vietnam troop build-ups of two of the most important years in our recent history.<br />
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After Madagascar, I was in Korea from 1967 an 1969. There, before meeting my wife Young Soon, I had a platonic friendship with Wally Gayda's girl friend Kim Kyu Youg (although Wally remained in Hong Kong). A "welcome to Korea" gift from Kyu, a fetching watercolor of sampans at work against a sunset, has been in my possession ever since and is displayed on my bedroom wall today.<br />
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During those years—1965 to 1969—Curtis flew for Byrd and Sons, later renamed Continental Air Service, bought by Robert F. Six but always a CIA front just like the very similar Air America. Six's second wife Audrey Meadows was immensely unpopular with pilots.<br />
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<b>Later years</b><br />
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As the 1960s became the 1970s and all romance associated with our nation's adventure in Southeast Asia gave way to harsh reality, Curtis and I remained in touch and met in a couple of odd places. He bought a beachfront condominium in Long Beach. He never mentioned this while alive but he'd placed me in his will. Had his mother pre-deceased him, I would have inherited his estate. I maintained communication with his Mom, Dot Burrell, but did not know his girlfriend when she telephoned with the news that Curtis had been lost in a plane crash. I was then working at the State Department in Washington and received those 1976 tidings in the room where I'm sitting now.<br />
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Today is Day Seventy Five of my experience with a primary brain tumor. As I contemplate those who've influenced my life, Jerome B. Curtis (May 19, 1931-November 21, 1976)—first upon my closest friends to have been born and first to die—represents a roads I might have traveled but didn't.There was a hankering in me to become an adventurer-pilot. For me, my outlet instead was to write about it. Throughout our long friendship. Curtis urge me to write, write, write,<br />
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It's difficult in my present circumstance, learning to use a keyboard all over again. Be patient with my typos.<br />
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Today, I can locate no civil aviation record that corresponds to Curtis's crash. I could have the aircraft type wrong or the date wrong, Maybe someone who follows aircraft mishaps can help.<br />
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Jerome, what the hell were you doing out there on that Mazatlán flight?<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-6917505228364232142015-12-20T16:15:00.000-05:002015-12-21T21:24:21.638-05:00Day Seventy-One. Influence: Larry E. HarryNothing if not rigid in his military bearing—in the slightly puckish way we were before our nation made the error of shifting from the citizen-soldier to the warrior ethos—retired Air Force Colonel Larry E. Harry was dead set on righting a wrong.<br />
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<b>Cheated of glory</b><br />
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As enlisted airmen in Korea in 1960, the Air Force had issued Joe Fives and me mimeographed orders for the Good Conduct Medal. That's the one you get for three years of not being caught. At the time of my discharge in August 1960, it was the only gong for which I was eligible, although a couple of later ribbons for service in Korea were made retroactive.<br />
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The thing is, they never actually gave us the medal. As a fellow enlisted airman, Larry had had the Good Conduct Medal pinned ceremoniously upon his breast by a commander. The medal is not given to officers from whom good conduct is assumed and goes unrecognized. The government had given orders to Fives and me, but not the actual medal. It was as if the medal never existed,<br />
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In a new century, in 2001 Larry purchased two examples of the medal at a base exchange clothing sales outlet. All of us carried a Libertarian streak: If the government wouldn't give it to us, Larry Harry would. Who had better creds?<br />
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The location was Joe's home on Ralston Lane in Redondo California. The ceremony began.<br />
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"Attention to orders!" Harry commanded. Joe's wife Penny and white sitsu, Sniffy were the audience. We were wearing jeans and tennis shoes.<br />
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"I hereby present these medals!" proclaimed Larry in a voice so authoritative it snapped Sniffy into a stiff posture of attention.<br />
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Now, that is so small thing, Sniffy was not easily riled but, like Larry, he believed that injustice must be rooted out at all levels.<br />
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<b>In Korea</b><br />
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Larry was in K-9-11, the Korean language class behind mine in Monterey (1957-58), but reached Korea before I did. He became a skilled analyst on the North Korean tactical air problem and on what some were calling the Reconnaissance War. On June 1, 1959, we monitored North Korean MiG-17 fighters as they engaged a Navy P4M-1Q Mercator radar reconnaissance aircraft over the Sea of Japan. The crew survived with one wounded. The co-pilot of the P4M-1Q was Vincent Anania, father of a future American political wife, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Edwards">Elizabeth Edwards </a>(July 3, 1949—December 7, 2010).<br />
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After my military service and during a break in Larry's, I gave up a job with the Sherwin Williams Paint Company — $275.00 per month for a five-and-one-half day week‚ mixing paints for retail customers at the the Woodward and Lothrop department store. Larry and I hitch-hiked from Washington to San Francisco. We were near Larry's Boonville, Indiana home when the second man in space, Gherman Stephanovich Titov, proclaimed Soviet superiority by repeatedly broadcasting, "I am Eagle!" I think they gave him more than a Good Conduct Medal. Larry would later make a mark in the Air Force space community.<br />
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Larry had decided to get back into uniform in hope of marrying Lee Un Pa, who worked at the base exchange at Osan. He did. He produced a fine family with one son and two daughters, including Angela Harry, who enjoyed a Hollywood film career appearing alongside Pamela Anderson, among others. The marriage eventually led to divorce.<br />
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That summer we saw a lot of America in an era when the nation enjoyed regional differences and altitudes.<br />
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We remained best friends not because we'd served together in the past but because we found new experiences at every turn.<br />
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When I wrote an opinion column for Air Force Times, Larry always had his fingertips what troops were thinking—not a job at which top officers usually excel.<br />
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<b>Big Loss</b><br />
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When Colonel Larry E. Harry died on February 4, 2002, the Air Force lost a quiet hero. Larry, 63, and already a cancer survivor twice, was on a cruise ship near Noumea, New Caledonia when he succumbed to a heart attack just hours after dancing in the tropical moonlight.<br />
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He wore the Air Force uniform for nearly four decades. He never piloted a plane or fought a war. But Larry had an indelible impact on the way the Air Force buys those satellites that swirl after our heads. Near the end of his career, he was praised in a report at "a top acquisitions contracting professional and a superb leader:"<br />
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Larry Harry was born in 1938, the year before me. When he enlisted in 1957 as an E-1, he had not been to college for even a day. When he retired in 1987, he was a colonel with a master's decree. There were 6,479 colonels in the Air Force that year, but only 42 percent were neither pilots nor navigators. That was the kind of statistic the ever-precise Harry loved to keep in little notebooks. The aw-shucks Boonville farm boy-look hid a midwestern American tradition of loyalty to country. Larry lost an older brother at Tarawa.<br />
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Dick Ristaino spoke of Larry's "very, very smart" mind. "Because of his strong analytical ability, they put him in charge of our unit [in Korea]. He would sit, take notes, and reduce a complete situation."<br />
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Larry couldn't get enough of the Air Force. He enlisted again in 1961 and following officer training school he became a second lieutenant in 1967.<br />
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I've writing these memories of those who influenced my life on Day Seventy-One of my symptoms of a fatal, primary brain tumor. Watch for typos as I continue learning again how to type. Main photo shows Larry as an airman first class (E-4) in Korea in 1960, which was also my rank at the time. The trio is Robert F, Dorr, Larry E. Harry and Joe Fives following the decades-later ribbon award. Other photos show me with William T. Randol and Angela Harry at Larry's interment on March 15, 2002 at Fort Rosencrans National Cemetery, San Diego.<br />
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Who knows what I might have missed on the Sherwin-Williams corporate ladder. Larry E. Harry (October 18, 1938-February 4, 2002), you are an influence on my life.<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-45985624425305755962015-12-19T07:01:00.000-05:002015-12-19T09:14:31.696-05:00Day Sixty Nine. Influence: Donald L. RanardNo one taught me to write for magazines. Beginning in 1955, I taught myself.<br />
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No one taught me to write books. Beginning in 1984, I taught myself.<br />
<br />
Donald L. Ranard taught me to write for government.<br />
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In 1970, I'd been in the Air Force in Korea (1957-60), had written for magazines (1960-65) and had completed tours of duty as a Foreign Service officer, or junior American diplomat, in Madagascar (1965-67) and Korea (1967-1969). I married Young Soon in 1968. We lived through a perilous era of tensions in Korea.<br />
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Now, as I'd requested, I was scheduled for a year in Vietnam. But at the last minute, that changed. I was wanted on the Korean Desk, otherwise called the Office of Korean Affairs (EA/K, in jargon), at the State Department in Washington. I became the junior-most of four desk officers working for Don to help shape U.S. Korea policy.<br />
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<b>Too few</b><br />
<br />
I've had few mentors. I've had only one good boss. So senior that it took weeks to get us to shake down to first-name basis, Don was that boss, a strong influence on my life and in every way a mentor and teacher.<br />
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In my time with him (1970-72), we shaped new policy and altered our military posture in Korea. But it will be remembered as a time of a witches' brew of tragedy, shaped by a corrupt regime in Seoul and carried out in Washington.<br />
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AsNorth Korea watcher, I worried about hostility not from those in in the north—contrary to myth, quite predictable and sane—but from our allies in the south.<br />
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It was an era when Koreans were bribing Congressmen in Washington. Don will be remembered for exposing the South Korean Central Intelligence Agency's role in bribing Congressmen and Nixon officials, partly through businessman <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tongsun_Park">Park Tong-Sun</a>, whom I met on occasion. Don tried to get the Justice Department to investigate and ran into resistance at a high level. At least one Nixon official was later found to have accepted $10,000 from Park. While this was going on, and beneath the nose of its staunch ally—the United States—the KCIA kidnapped opposition political figure Kim Tae-Chung from Japan. Don's intervention with this noxious period of the Seoul government of Park Chung Hee may have saved Kim's life.<br />
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There is no time clock for a senior official in the State Department. Though Don handled his long hours with apparent aplomb, I thought I observed an impact on his health.<br />
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It was the time when we were implementing force reductions in an attempt in the vain hope of helping South Korea to defend itself. Then, as now, a million men confronted each other across six kilometers of ground, Seoul now within artillery reach of the north.<br />
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<b>Korea history</b><br />
<br />
Don had been among American diplomats withdrawn from Seoul when the Korean War began June 25, 1950 along with our assistant-secretary boss, Marshall Green, a punster who liked to observe that, "These are the times that try Seoul's men." Don turned to me to follow North Korean leader Kim Il-Sung using both intelligence assets and open-source documents. I read Kim's speeches. It was a breakthrough. As I've observed elsewhere, our bloated intelligence community is good at counting main battle tanks and MiGs but poor at gauging the behavior of political leadership. We continue to fail at that task today.<br />
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My first assignment at my desk at 21st and Virginia Avenues was to compose the State Department statement marking the 20th anniversary of the Korean War. Someone else struggled with this and couldn't find the words. The task took me less than an hour. Don, who knew of my magazine writing in the men's adventure field, said something to the effect that, "I'm glad someone around here can write"—although no one was a better writer (or drafter, as we called it) than he, while I had a lot to learn.<br />
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<br />
Iworked for months on an analysis of Kim Il-Sung. Don't look for a copy at my next book signing event. It will never be declassified.<br />
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Following Don's rule never to use "impact" as a verb — he would hate what they've done to the English language today — I wrote about the issue of who would follow Kim. We know how that worked out but don't look for that document, either.<br />
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At State, you always revise the other fellow's draft. We struggled once to decide whether a one-word cable to Ambassador William J. Porter should read "Agree" or "Concur."<br />
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Working with Don, I was promoted to the middle ranks. Young Soon and I bought a house in Alexandria, which we still own. Our son Robert Porter Dorr was born April 21, 1971.<br />
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<b>Onward with State</b><br />
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My subsequent Foreign Service duties were at Japanese language school in Washington and in Fukuoka, Japan (1973-1974), where our son Jerry was born at Sasebo on February 21, 1974. We were posted in Liberia (1974-75) and I returned to Washington first to work on matters surrounding the fall of Saigon and thereafter to spend four years in the Bureau of Intelligence and Research, or INR (1975-1979), again following North Korea's Kim Il Sung.<br />
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I was consul in Stockholm, Sweden (1979-82) and in London England (1982-87). I returned to fill a miserable job following Contras in Nicaragua (1987) in INR. There, a fellow airman from three decades ago, Richard E. Ristaino also worked, having changed agencies after years as a CIA officer.<br />
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I had an exchange tour with the Defense Intelligence Agency (1988), worked briefly on refugee issues, and retired from the State Department at senior level on my 50th birthday, September 11, 1989.<br />
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Today is day sixty nine since symptoms and day sixteen since surgery as I face a fatal, primary brain tumor. I hope to enjoy a little more time to write about influences on my writing, professional and family life. I've already spent more years on this planet than Don. I will never forget the many times he influenced my thinking, improved my writing, and made me a better man,<br />
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Photos sent here are dated August 5, 1970. I cannot say how much I owe to Donald L. Ranard (January 13, 1917-July 22, 1990).<br />
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-46008230872621908942015-12-17T08:54:00.004-05:002015-12-20T15:05:55.455-05:00Day Sixty Seven. Influence: Tobias NaegeleNo one taught me to write for magazines. Beginning in 1955, I taught myself.<br />
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No one taught me to write books. Beginning in 1984, I taught myself.<br />
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Tobias Naegele taught me to write for newspapers.<br />
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Tobias and his staff at the Army Times Publishing Company, that is. Beginning in 1993.<br />
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It's a different skill with steep learning curves.<br />
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I remain an author, not a journalist. I've never held a salaried job — you know, like employment — writing. But for 20 years, roughly 1993-2013, I wrote an opinion column in Air Force Times that was unique: No one else has ever done anything like it. Others have published commentary about the Air Force but none with such frequency or visibility.<br />
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During that time, I frequently visited the Springfield, Virginia newsroom. I was there the day British-born Sean Naylor, now a premier war correspondent, became a U.S. citizen. I was there the day Bruce Rolfsen polished off a brilliant piece about the state of the Air Force. I worked with Bryant Jordan on a story about the A-10 Thunderbolt II, the "Warthog."<br />
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<b>Real paper</b><br />
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Even regular readers don't readily grasp that this is a real newspaper, not a government publication. Tobias's team worked to bring the best military news to young service members and to senior brass, often in an adversarial role with the latter. (Air Force chief of staff General Michael Ryan actually threw me out of his Pentagon office). The full-time staff were newspaper people, not military people, few were veterans and fewer were subject matter experts although Jim Tice knows more about the Army than anybody and Christopher Cavas—the source of my souvenir rubber airplane model—is one of the world's two or three top experts on the Navy.<br />
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At a newspaper, ethics is everything. You don't make up quotes. You don't fudge facts. You never borrow the prose of others. That's as different as it gets from my experience making up stuff for the men's adventure magazines.<br />
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Accuracy in newspapers is life-and-death. A good newspaperman, Tobias—a strong-minded but fair leader—had no place for factual error. One day, the newspaper floor covered the story of a flyer who accidentally ejected himself in flight from a Navy F-14 Tomahawk fighter. They conducted telephone interviews of witnesses. They found a photo of the plane. They labored over every detail of this unintended bailout, which the victim survived. They included stats on the plane. Finally, after being seen by at least half a dozen preparers, the story went into print. Every one of those six preparers knew perfectly well that the F-14 was named the Tomcat. But no one caught the typo and the plane appeared in print as a Tomahawk. Fury ensued.<br />
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Photo of Air Force chief of staff General T. Michael Moseley and me aboard his plane to Paris in 2007 depicts me in "interview" mode.<br />
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Tobias wasn't the most difficult boss to work for. Tom Breen was. He hired me, paid from day one $150.00 per column or twice that given to those who offered occasional commentary. When Tom and I argued about the column on the phone, my Young Soon expressed fear the decibels would damage our house. "You're off the column!" Tom would shout. "You're off the column!" But he could make peace more quickly than anybody I know. Tom, a newspaperman to the core, joined me attending the 50th anniversary celebration for the Air Force at Las Vegas in September 1997. Tom was ripped from us too soon,<br />
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<b>Travel</b><br />
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I paid for my travel during this period, while writing the column and continuing magazine and book work. An exception: Tom sent me on a May 1, 1996 roundtrip accompanying William Perry to a ceremony opening a training facility at Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico aboard a VC-9C Skytrain (serial number 73-1682). It was my first chance to interview a sitting Secretary of Defense. Perry looms above those who followed, especially the inept William Cohen, whom I later interviewed in Alaska.<br />
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I interviewed the big guys to convey to them what the little guys wanted. Their own base visits were orchestrated and rarely told them what real airmen wanted and needed. My column was for the staff sergeants and the captains—not the very junior-most airmen but the ones doing the work. We have always had better than we deserve and we owe everything to them.<br />
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I argued in 1998 that after we identified the American in the Tomb of the Unknowns as A-37 Dragonfly pilot Michael Blassie, he should retain the Medal of Honor we gave him when he was unknown. I lost. I argued in 2001 for better arrangements for deploy airmen to vote, I won. In 1999, I argued against religious proselytizing in the workplace. That battle goes on.<br />
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I argued for an award of the Medal of Honor for overlooked Vietnam para-rescue jumper Staff Sergeant William Pitsenbarger (August 8, 1944-April 11, 1966), had help, won, and attended the posthumous award ceremony in 2000.<br />
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I argued against torture and other violations on the Law of Armed Conflict and in favor of treating detained terrorists under the 1949 Geneva Convention on Prisoners of war. I lost. I was a strong advocate for a most robust combat search and rescue force, a real need in recent years. I lost. I favored the far superior Airbus A330-MRTT, or KC-45 over the Boeing 767-200, or KC-46, as the new Air Force tanker. I lost but became new best friends with Mobile, Alabama Mayor Sam Jones where the KC-45s would have been assembled.<br />
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On September 23 2013, cartoonist Austin May imagined me helping troops think up a name for the new tanker, which became the Pegasus.<br />
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Much of the time, I submitted copy to Kathleen Curthoys at Air Force Times; Kathy and her husband Scott became fast family friends. Another influence was Barbara Harrison protector of newspaper style. You can write for magazines without knowing what a style manual is. Not newspapers. In the 1990s, Barbara would brook no reference to "e-mail." The term had to be rendered as "electronic mail." Another editor was Linda Monroe, who could spot a grammatical error in a two-word sentence.<br />
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<b>People</b><br />
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Air Force Times had eight editors — most of that time, the official title was managing editor —during my 20 years as a freelance columnist from 1993 to 2013:<br />
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Tom Breen (January 20, 1946-June 22, 2011); Jim Wolffe (March 1, 1956-December 2, 2008), Julie Bird, Lance Bacon, Rob Colenso, Kent Miller, Mel Gray, and Becky Iannotta. In November 2013, I ended an entirely different, 20-year column writing for a different publication Aerospace America magazine where Becky's husband Ben Iannotta was then the newly arrived editor, only my second at that venue.<br />
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The family-owed Army Times Publishing Company was sold to Gannett on June 28, 1996 and was re-named Gannett Government Media Corp on October 20, 2010.<br />
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In addition to my Air Force Times opinion column, I wrote a weekly history feature weekly and separately for the four Military Times newspapers, sometimes with a frequent co-author, Fred L. Borch, with whom I also wrote for World War II magazine. A retired Army colonel and judge advocate, Fred is my source on military law issues and a valued friend. I collaborated on one history feature with William T. Randol, one of my six best friends.<br />
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Tobias and I devised the history columns partly during our occasional Thai lunch together near the company's Springfield site.<br />
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I interviewed Marine Chief Warrant Officer Hershel "Woody" William who fought Japanese troops on Iwo Jima with a flamethrower to become a Medal of Honor recipient. I wrote about Hawaiian musician Don Ho (August 13, 1930-April 1, 2007), who piloted C-97 Stratocruiser transports during the Cold War. I wrote about Tobias's father, an American soldier who worked in U.S. camps for German prisoners of war.<br />
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<b>Going out</b><br />
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Final photo is me at Kunsan Air Base, Korea, in 1999 not long after a trip to Ice Station Ruby near the North Pole.<br />
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Today is Day Sixty-Seven since symptoms and 15 since surgery for my fatal primary brain tumor. I've glad I got newspaper experience but sad it happened at the end of the newspaper era. I still read real newspapers in real print every day, printers' ink and all. I'll bet you don't, which makes you part of the problem.<br />
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The company for which I wrote is now undergoing changes and will no longer offer the traditional newspaper as its staple. A great American newspaperman, Tobias Naegele, has worked on to broader medium work. The traditional of the American newspaper on its way out.<br />
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Other names that touched my life in the newspaper world: Scot Achepohl, Peter Atkinson, John Bray, Lavenia Berryman, C. Mark Brinkley, Dave Brown,Joe Bush, Michelle Butler, John Burlage,<br />
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Gina Cavallaro, Joe Chenelly, Angie Clark, Joe Clark, Laura Colarusso, Andrew Compart, Jennifer Correro, Greg Couteau, Jessica Cox Matt Cox, Philip Creed, Kristin Davis, Andrew deGrandpre, Jami Dyer (Nichols), Michelle Early, Brian Everstine, Philip Ewing, Mark Faram, Sam Fellman, Steve Fleshman, Scott Fontaine, Gidget Fuentes, Katie Gill, Keely Goss, Joe Gould, Annette Graham, Nicole Guadiano, Susan Gvozdas, Cecilia Hadley, Markie Harwood, Rod Hafmeister, Dorothy Herman, Matt Hevezi, Matt Hilburn, Robert Hodierne, John Hoellwarth, Michael Hoffman,</div>
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Erik Holmes, Kurt Jenson, Jelani Johnson, Kimberly Johnson, Signe Johnson, Brian Kalish, Colin Kelly, Kelly Kennedy, Patricia Kime, Jacqueline Klimas, Paul Koscak, Phil Kuhl, Sam LaGrone, Dan Lamothe, Kamala Lane, David Larter, Jill Laster, Chris Lawson, Tony Lombardo, Steve Losey,</div>
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Christian Lowe, Gordon Lubold, Peter Lundquist, Brian MacKeil, Chris Maddaloni, Scott Mahaskey,</div>
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Toni Maltagliati, Bill Matthews, Amy McCullough, Brendan McGarry, William H. McMichael, Noel Montrey, Vago Muradian, Alex Neill, Christal Newby, Jean Norman, Seamus O'Connor, Katy O'Hara, Oriana Pawlyk, Donna Peterson, John Pulley, Jenn Rafael, Maureen Rhea, Markeshia Ricks,</div>
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Cathy Riddle, Kristina Rogosky, Sheila Ross, Peggy Roth, John Ryan, Richard Sandza, Michele Savage, Jeff Schogol, Seena Simon, Karen Small, Tom Spoth, Joshua Stewart, Philip Thompson, Andrew Tilghman, Gordon Trowbridge, Diane Tsimekles, Melissa Vogt, Jason Watkins, Steven Watkins, Vanessa White, Jack Weible, Grant (Gina) Willis, Jack Wittman, Patrick Winn and Beth Zimmerman. All newspaper people, all.</div>
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For two decades, Air Force Times enabled me to write in a different way about American airmen. I'm an author but I'm also an airman. No term means more. This was just part of my life but it was a meaningful part. So I owe much to Tobias Naegele but I owe it all to the staff sergeants and captains out there who are doing it for us. It was my privilege to fly in the F-15E Strike Eagle with them and to conduct flight-line, foreign-object inspection with them.<br />
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It a perfect world, we would drop the warrior ethos and return to the citizen-soldier. We still can.<br />
Without any of faux patriotism or the fawning over military members that too Americans practice and without that noxious custom of thanking people for their service, let us remember those staff sergeants and captains every day. </div>
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It is, in the end, about those who fly and fight.</div>
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<br />Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-7971638771868753152015-12-15T22:27:00.001-05:002015-12-31T20:52:14.635-05:00Day Sixty Five. Influence: Joe FivesJoe Fives was my first friend.<br />
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Oh, I knew people in high school (1954-57), the Civil Air Patrol (1954-57), and Air Force basic training (summer 1957), but just as teachers—all but one—failed to reach me, contemporaries viewed little in me worth reaching for.<br />
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It was me. Apart from writing and airplanes, I had few interests and may have been seen as dour.<br />
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Joe and I met in September 1957, around my 18th birthday, at the old, pre-war barracks at the Army Language School at the Presidio of Monterey, California. We were in Class K-9-10, the middle number referring to the nine-month duration of standard Air Force Korean classes (the Army's were a year). They taught 33 languages at Monterey including Russian but more military members took Korean than any other.<br />
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No one told us why were studying a language.<br />
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<b>Cold War</b><br />
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We got an idea the following year (September 2, 1968) when four Soviet MiG-17s shot down an RC-130 Hercules reconnaissance aircraft (serial 56-0528, the first C-130 ever lost to any cause) over Armenia killing 17 of our brothers, some Monterey alumni.<br />
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Within weeks, we moved to the new (then) Company D Barracks that boasted a fancy indoor orderly room replete with a building-wide P.A. microphone console to announce foot locker inspections, reville and such. We were on an Army post, after all, and how we envied airmen who studied at Yale University where future friend Bill Randol went. Joe had I had begun hanging around in scenic Monterey. Joe had a disdain for authority so one evening he slipped behind the microphone and proclaimed to everyone in the building: "FUCK THE ARMY!" Our tough-as-nails first sergeant, a World War II veteran, spent days trying to figure out who could have done just such a deed.<br />
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We pinned on our second stripes, making us Airmen Second Class (E-3). The Army thought we were corporals, which was actually a rank higher, so life improved. We were every bit as irreverent as the citizen-soldiers who'd served our great nation always until then. I took the flak when they issued name tags with the surname and first letter of the language being studied. I must have been the only soldier or airman at the Presidio who had never before encountered any variation of the word "DORR-K."<br />
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As Johnny Mathis kept telling us on the music box at Hermann's coffee shop on Alvarado Street, we were to graduate on the "twelfth of August 1958." No one had ever told us why we were studying a language and we lost one student, Anthony Provitola, during the background investigations going on back home. Tony, who theorized that the world consisted of "the nothing people and the something people" had apparently participated in some unacceptable youthful prank.<br />
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Rarely seen Captain Charles Klinestiver, in charge of the small Air Force Presidio detachment, always began audiences with, "I have good news for some and bad news for others."<br />
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Class K-9-10 was being broken up. Half of us, including me, slated for Ashiya Air Base, Japan, without previously having been informed, would remain in Monterey perhaps graduating "the twelfth of never" since Ashiya was being shuttered. The other half were off to the Rock, also K-53, the island of Paengnyong-do. Members of Class K-9-11, including Larry Harry and Dick Ristaino also went to the Rock, alias P-Y-do, also, where officers and sergeants made no attempt to prevent them from designing their own uniforms with help from houseboys in the tents and Quonset buildings. These were maybe the least military-looking upstarts ever serve among the citizen-soldiers who made so much of our history before we made the tragic error of switching to the warrior ethos.<br />
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<b>The Rock</b><br />
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The Rock was miles north of the Demilitarized Zone in the Korean east coast, facing North Korea's MiG-15 and MiG-17 equipped 3rd Air Division. By the time I arrived at Osan Air Base on February 2, 1959, aboard C-124C Globemaster II (serial 54-138)—the song "Mary Ann" on its loudspeaker; two takeoffs from Tachikawa needed to achieve one landing at Osan—Joe, Larry and Dick had been on the front lines and I was a newbie.<br />
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Osan was mostly mud, aluminum and elements. Men had fought here. Later in life, I knew Lewis Lee Millet who led history's last bayonet charge up Hill 180 and received the Medal of Honor. In my era, that was where base local hires, mostly women, lived. Our 6929th Radio Squadron had an orderly room at surface elevation—where our first sergeant lacked the clearances to know our job—and trailers, soon replaced by antenna-studded buildings atop Hill 170, below which F-100 Super Sabres with Mark 7 tactical nuclear bombs resided.<br />
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I was read into my clearances atop Hill 170 and learned that our "take" from North Korea was codeword "TOP SECRET EIDER," soon changed to "DAUNT," and "SECRET FROTH," later "SPOKE." The terms became public decades later. We did the monitoring (alongside Morse operators) at Hill 170 and in the four C-47 Skytrain "BLUE SKY/ROSE BOWL" reconnaissance aircraft. We worked for the National Security Agency, not well known and never permitted to work in the United States. I lived with about twenty others in an open bay T-130 Butler building but most in the squadron were in larger, also open-bay Quonsets.<br />
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A 19, I lost my virginity for two dollars one fine summer evening while Joe Fives sat out on the porch, slapping insects and playing the harmonica.<br />
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The village outside Osan was the wild west. Out there, you could behave badly or you find a girl friend and live together. Joe Fives met Penny. Penny is a small woman, with inner strength that compensates for petiteness. She is pretty, never more than when tossing a wisecrack back at Joe. I visited their home often. at Osan and in California for fifty-six years to follow (except when Joe later volunteered as a civilian in Vietnam). With her own brand of insouciance, cheekiness and the quickest laugh I've even seen and, for fifty-six years, Penny was the only person who could tell Joe Fives what to do. She remains with us today.<br />
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We remained friends after Korea because we shared experiences all the rest of Joe's life. My fiction award from the Ralston Institute emanates from a nonexistent academic facility named for Joe and Penny's street in Redondo Beach and no one has ever questioned it. No family ever created a better home. Joe and Penny have two children, Joseph R. Fives born in 1961 and Joanne Shepherd born in 1962. Joseph R. was later a radar interceptor operator on a Top Gun-style, carrier-based F-14 Tomcat fighter.<br />
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<b>Getting hitched</b><br />
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Ah, but first they had to marry. The Air Force spent millions to encourage socializing but wanted no one in our career field to wed a foreigner — a situation I faced with the State Department a decade later. They removed Joe's clearances, stripped one stripe and shunted him to another squadron. He had time to study karate where one of his fellow martial art students was Airman Second Class Chuck Norris. I nodded at Chuck Norris once or twice. With difficulty, Joe and Penny were married May 16, 1960.<br />
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Over decades, our families visited, usually from opposite coasts. I made Joe a hero in a men's adventure magazine story. He and Penny attended the weddings of our two sons, Bob and Jerry.<br />
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In a not unpleasant way, Joe disliked government and authority and battled both. He was a computer genius when we were doing word searches on Dogpile.<br />
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I talked to Joe on the phone October 9, 2005. Having watched me suck up Marlboro Reds for forty-four years — and having never smoked — Joe was having a coughing spell and had cancer that had reached his lungs. He died January 23, 2006.<br />
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This is Day Sixty Five of my experience with a fatal brain tumor, I think of the many friends I acquired when I became more mature — but especially of the six men who remained constantly closest throughout of their lives (one is still alive). They are part of me. Color quartet during a 1990s reunion is, left to right, Robert F. Dorr, Joseph H. Fives, William T. Randol and Pierre A Messerli. The T-shirts refer to the 6929th Radio Squadron in Korea. A Swiss immigrant at the time and not then a citizen, Pierre was drafted into the Army in Alaska in the 1950s. We promoted Pierre, sort of.<br />
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Other color photo: our house, circa 2002, left to right: Joseph H. Fives, Robert F. Dorr, Lucy T. Dog (1992-2006) and Young Soon Dorr.<br />
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<b>The six:</b><br />
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I've had many friends. These are the six who were friends throughout life, in the order in which we met.<br />
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Fives, Joseph H. - (June 19, 1939-January 23, 2006).<br />
Harry, Larry Edward Air Force Colonel - (October 18, 1938-February 4. 2002)<br />
Ristaino, Richard E - (June 22, 1937-October 1, 2008)<br />
Randol, William T - (May 22, 1939-March 9, 2008)<br />
Messerli, Pierre - (April 21, 1934-<br />
Curtis, Jerome B. - (May 1, 1931-November 21, 1976)Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4671293821796722575.post-82477332784939595622015-12-12T04:45:00.001-05:002016-03-30T21:17:42.870-04:00Day Sixty Two. Influence: William J. Porter"Bob, to succeed in the Foreign Service, you need to learn to operate a movie projector."<br />
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William J. Porter, U. S. ambassador to South Korea—a career diplomat and one of the most powerful Americans in Asia—screened a film at the pool in front of his residence for an audience of three—himself, a junior officer (me, age 28) and my 22-year-old graduate-student girl friend, Young Soon. Bill's own wife was out of town.</div>
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Never mind that a Foreign Service officer was not supposed to date a foreigner, let alone love or marry one—not in those days. Porter had taken an interest in us and invited us in particular to scrutinize the bride. Not for more than a decade had an American diplomat married a Korean. Months of hurdles lay ahead but because Porter cared we would eventually marry November 2, 1968.</div>
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Using a film to entertain harkened to those days in the Levant where Bill had begun as a code clerk in 1937. We'd all served in distant, lonely places where you had to make your amusements.</div>
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<b>Other concerns</b></div>
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Not that Bill didn't have other stuff to think about.</div>
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I'd been in the Air Force in Korea (1957-60), had written for magazines (1960-65) and served one Foreign Service tour in Madagascar (1965-67), before arriving at our Seoul embassy in 1967.<br />
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In the terrible year that followed, the United States almost found itself caught up in a second, massive Asian land war on the scale of the one then occurring in Vietnam.<br />
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On January 21, 1968, small arms fire poured over my apartment as thirty-one North Korean commandos launched the Blue House raid in an attempt to kill President Park Chung-Hee. On January 23, 1968, North Korean naval forces seized the U.S. intelligence ship the USS Pueblo (AGER 2) and held the crew for a year. On April 15, 1969, Kim Il Song's birthday, North Korean MiG-17 fighters—the same ones I'd monitored the previous decade—shot down an EC-121 reconnaissance aircraft and killed thirty-one Americans. There were constant fire fights in the much-mislabeled Demilitarized Zone. For the first time since 1953, American soldiers in Korea were being awarded the Combat Infantryman Badge. Our air build-up following the Pueblo brought hundreds of warplanes in Korea.<br />
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All this and more. We changed our immigration law on July 1, 1968, altering forever the demographic of our own country. I was in charge of all immigration visas in Seoul, a duty that occupies seventeen consular officers today.<br />
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Porter later worked alongside Henry Kissinger on the Paris peace talks. In the 1970s, I worked with him in our efforts to reduce the U S. military presence by pulling an infantry division off the line (success), ending the U.S. troop presence along the DMZ (success) and cutting our troop strength (failure).<br />
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<b>A mentor</b><br />
It says in the Wikipedia entry about me that William J. Porter (1914-1988) was my mentor. Not exactly. He was more a kind, authority figure who found a little time — stolen from serious duty — to encourage romance in the consular section at a time of conflict and turmoil.<br />
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Thanks to a law covering expeditious naturalization, Young Soon became a U.S. citizen in August 1969. This enabled me to hold clearances when I worked as the State Department's North Korean watcher, 1970-72 and 1976-79. For years, I was the only person who read all of Kim Il Sung's speeches, releases and position papers. U.S. intelligence has always been good at counting artillery tubes, main battle tanks and MiGs, but poor at reading North Korea's leaders.<br />
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I read them every day.<br />
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It has been my privilege to walk among great men. Bill Porter was one.<br />
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It is no coincidence that our first son, born in 1971, is Robert Porter Dorr.<br />
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Robert Dorrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03812802691335144956noreply@blogger.com3