Appian Way - #6

(Diary kept while in Italy)

25 Feb 92

Yesterday was a long day.  There is some sort of problem with the orders but I really don’t care, I am here now.  At least the lodging and transportation is working out fine. 

The BMW we rented is really too small for all six of us but some how we all manage to pile in.

Last night we all walked around Tirrenia stopped to drank some wine and eat spaghetti and bread.  Sgt. Kennedy and I left the others, went to another restaurant/bar and just sat around till one o’clock in the morning talking and drinking beer between wines. 

26 Feb 92

I get my days mixed up.  Yesterday, or I think it was yesterday, I got the Sgts started on a project and scanned some secret op-plans (they didn’t seem to secret to me.)  The only highlight of the day was when Sgt Ball, our interpreter, and I went to Livorno.  I thought it might not be a bad idea to put boots on the ground at the place we were developing new defense plans, albeit never to be used I suspect.  Sgt. Ball readily agreed just to get off post and besides he said he wanted me to know where the bars were.  It seems like that is all he ever has on his mind.  Ever since he brought up the subject, the first time I met him, I have continually told him I wasn’t interested.  He said he realized that but suggested that perhaps some of my enlisted men would be.  Two might I think. 

We road around the city dodging traffic, weaving in an out between cars (I was driving) and he pointed a couple of the bars out.  The trip was so confusing and I was so turned around that I could not get back there if I wanted – which I don’t.  The two guys who might be interested will just have to suffer.

Other than all the traffic my observations were of narrow streets, cars parked on sidewalks, and an extremely dirty city over all with trash on the streets and dried dirt on what would other wise be very attractive edifices.  The buildings could use a good sandblasting.

As we were driving along I kept wondering what type of businesses were in the buildings, what did the insides look like, wondered when they were built, and if they had any significant history attached.  Sgt Ball, who has lived in Italy, France, and Germany for the last 19 years has no idea and cares less.  He is much more interested in the whores.

As we went back towards camp he said he knew a short cut and thought I would like the scenery along the way.  I soon found out what kind of scenery he was talking about.  The whores apparently stand along the road in some areas that look like a rural setting.  There were a couple of whores he knew standing along the road.  One looked like a nice young girl, the other whom he apparently knew better than the other, looked every bit the part of being of whore – short dress, low top, bad teeth.  Of course he had to stop.  They muttered something in Italian.  He said she wanted to know if I wanted a “date.”  I said no.  He pinched her on the boob, they both laughed and we drove off.  He wanted to know if I thought she was good looking.  I tried to be polite and be non committal because I feared she might look like his wife.  He thought she was hot.

Appian Way - #5

 

 

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Appian Way - Tirrenia

I appreciated the use of the interpreter, but I told him the next morning after leaving the restaurant in Livorno that I thought that his time would be spent better helping out the younger members of our contingent.  I decided to explore the surrounding area on my own. 

I started out not real early, perhaps around 10:00 and decided to walk around Tirrenia on my own.  It was a modern little Italian village but different in a lot of ways.  The center section of the town had cobble stone streets with a lot of little shops of all kinds that seemed to specialize in different products.  Tobacco, wine, pottery, clothes, jewelry, and several quaint little cafes.  I found an ice cream shop and bought a cone of some strange flavor that I really can’t describe.  There was a festival that the local Catholic Church was having to raise money I guess for some worthy cause, so I bought some flavored coffee, which wasn’t much good, sat on a park bench and just watched the people parade around in their Sunday best. 

I went to Mass that afternoon at the local church and was able to follow the service pretty well.  I understood every part of the Mass except for the serman of course.

After leaving Mass I ran into one of the young men that was part of our group named  Terdoff.  He was a little older than the other guardsman and had grown tired of pretending he was on just another army post.  He too wanted to take advantage of seeing the local Italian scene.

We went to a place that was a combination deli, ice cream parlor, and bar and had a glass of wine.  I joked with the owner about him giving us California wine (it was a white wine from Tuscany.)

We ventured back to the festival area and ate a pastry that was creamy on the inside and fried on the out side sprinkled with sugar.

We went to a spegatteria  across the street that served different kinds of pasta but it was run by some Arabs.  After another glass of wine we decided not to eat there and walked down a side street that I had not noticed before  We stumbled across a quaint little café that reminded me of the restaurant where Michael shot the Turk and the corrupt police captain in the Godfather.

We ordered a dinner that consisted of red wine and spaghetti with white sauce that had small chunks of ham infiltrated though out.  They served some interesting flat bread sticks, a small pizza with mussels, a chocolate éclair and some of the worst coffee I ever tasted in my life.

We both went back to the spa and to bed.  I woke around 3 am, still suffering from jet lag, went down to the main lobby and started writing some letters and post cards.  The desk clerk thought I was crazy.

I noticed during my meanderings that day that the normal people, the middle class I guess, dressed a little different.  They all seemed to be just a touch more poor than our middle class, but that might have been because it was a small town and not very cosmopolitan.  Their clothes did not match it seems and their shoes were not up to our standards. Many of the women who walked around held hands and the older ladies dyed their hair a deep red, almost purple. 

I just hung around the lobby writing and “reading” magazines until breakfast and hoped that the coffee would be better in the morning.

Appian Way - #4

Appian Way – The Interpreter

Four days on the coast of the Italian Riviera, a BMW, living in a spa overlooking a nude beach, on an expense account, and now an interpreter.  Fighting communism could not get much better than this.

The interpreter the commanding officer lent us was a Staff Sergeant who was getting ready to rotate back to the U.S.  He was going to be assigned to the 101^st Air Assault Division at Ft. Campbell, Kentucky.  His father had married an Italian and he had lived in Italy most of his life including most of his tour of duty.  His assignment to the 101^st was going to be for four years and he was not looking forward to the assignment.  He loved Italy.

He was full of questions about the states and Kentucky in particular, and for reasons that I guess were typical European, he was interested in whores.  He asked if I knew what the whore situation was like in Kentucky.  I told him I did not know and even though I had served two short tours there I never saw the reason to find out.  Other than that he seemed like any other young American soldier being sent oversees, or I guess I should say he was typical of any young man being sent away from home for the first time.  Women have always been a high priority to young men away from home.

I told my contingent that we had the sergeant’s language expertise at our disposal but they seemed unimpressed.  They had developed their own itinerary for the next few days and decided to leave me out of their plans.  I did not mind. There was a difference in rank and ages and I am sure they thought I would be a drag.  I am glad they felt that way, besides I had the car.  I did tell them that we needed to be back at the base no later than 0800 Friday and not to be late.

I asked my interpreter if he would mind taking me on a tour of the surrounding area.  He was more than happy to oblige.  He picked me up at the spa that evening and suggested we drive into Livorno.  We headed toward the Italian seaport, weaved in and out of traffic, up and down the streets of the old section of Livorno, and eventually arrived at a spaghetteria.  A spaghetteria, according to my guide, is a restaurant that serves typical types of food common to Italy but specializes in different kinds of pastas. 

The tone of any Italian meal differs from one part of the county to another and so to the differing restaurants.  First was wine, then some shelled muscles, next a pasta dish, a fish of some sort accompanied by crushed spinach, garlic, olives and bread.  Then came a fresh salad followed by fruit with a demitasse of espresso.  If that were not enough a rich thick creamy pudding followed.  Of course wines of different sorts were brought out with each course ranging from dry to sweet. 

I staggered back to the car, not from the wine but from over indulging my gastronomic side.  The sergeant thought we should now go out and look for some whores but I declined the invitation and he returned me to the spa. 

I needed to rest up for the county side tour the next day the sergeant had promised to take me on.

Appian Way - #3

Appian Way - The Plan

We checked in at the headquarters building where we were to begin the re-write of the defense plan of Liverno. The commanding officer, an LTC, was on leave so I sought out the first sergeant.

He did not look like a first sergeant, more like Homer Simpson. He was waiting for his admin personnel to return from their morning run. His job I figured was to fix coffee and get the doughnuts ready, which both were in ample supply.

His office was a mess. Field gear was piled in a corner, he was waring sweat pants, and a T-shirt adorned with a picture of Elvis.

We were offered coffee and doughnuts. He asked what he could do for us. I suggested he could show me to a work area and provide us with the current defense plan. No problem he said.

He took us down the hall to a large room, punched in a security code, and asked if the room seemed adequate. It had all the necessary things: pencils, chairs, tables, paper, television, couch, easy chair, coffee pot and of course doughnuts. In the corner was a file drawer with the words secret written in red across the front. The drawer was already pulled out.

He retrieved the appropriate file. I asked for the combination to the file and a sign in/out sheet. He said the combination lock was not working but he was not concerned if they had an inspection because he had a work order on file. As far as the sign in/out sheet went, they never used one. He did give me the door combination however. It was nice to be trusted.

I took the folder and read through the plan while my men watched Italian television, drank coffee, and of course ate doughnuts. It took me about thirty minutes to read the plan and hand out to my little band of brothers the parts they were responsible for reviewing and suggest changes. It was getting close to lunch and I did not want to leave the plan in the room, so I put it in my brief case and headed to the mess hall.

Two hours past lunch my guys had made their recommendations on unit assignment, re-deployments, and calculated the troop strength needed.

The next morning we made a draft of the document and presented it to the commanding officer who had returned from leave. He thanked me for our efforts and said he would have his staff review the suggestions and for me to be in his office noon Friday. It was now only Tuesday morning, so I asked if he had anything else he wanted us to do. He said "No, enjoy yourself, Italy can be very accommodating to military personnel, and by the the way do you need an interpreter while you are here?"

Appian Way #2

Appian Way - The Spa

Upon arriving at the Tirrenia di Navigazione spa we were greeted with warmth and enthusiasm.  The desk clerk assigned us rooms along the beach side.  The men in our little contingent shared two to a room and I being a field grade officer got a suite all by myself.  The room was comfortable and luxurious, at least for a guy from Independence.

The group planned on meeting in the lobby around 6:00 that evening to decide what we were going to do for dinner.  I had a couple of hours left after getting settled in, so I called room service, ordered a bottle of some sort of Italian red, tried to tip the bell hop who refused my lira but did take a couple of American dollars.

I sat on the balcony in very comfortable chairs, watched the rolling Ligurian Sea and thought how nice it was to protect my country from the evils of communism.  The only thing that disappointed me was that for being a nude beach there were no swimmers or sun bathers.  It was in mid February and even close to southern Italy it was to cold for such things.

I left my room in plenty of time to meet up with my small band of brothers and explored the spa. There was a huge outdoor pool but no pool side loungers, a very large drinking establishment in the  basement area but closed for the season, a work out room with no one there, no one in the sauna, a good sized restaurant, but again closed for the season.  I started thinking that I might run in to Jack Nicholson, when I came across  what was advertised as an American Bar.  It was full.

After ordering some red wine it was immediately known to all in the bar that I was an American and for the next 45 minutes I never had to buy a drink. They were friendly and were not that interested in what I was doing in Tirrenia.  They eluded to the fact that they knew I was a soldier and they were use to soldiers not being to specific on what they were up to or where they were from.  I found out later Livorno, just down the road from Tirrenia, was the center for the Italian Communist Party.  I gave no state secrets away.

My comrades and I met in the lobby and we discussed where to eat.  No one but me was over the age of 21 so our food desires were not the same.  One wanted to go back to Camp Darby because he saw a sign in the mess hall that informed everyone that it was Taco night at the bowling ally.  Another saw a McDonald's sign as we came into town and thought that would be interesting.  Yet another said he had walked a little bit around town and just down the block was a place that advertised American Pizza.

I was weary enough that I did not want to point out the obvious so I just told them we had been in each others company for over 24 hours and perhaps we ought to go our own separate ways that evening and meet up in the breakfast cafe which was on the second floor at six the next morning.  Besides I said I was tired.  I threw the senior sergeant my car keys and headed back to the America Bar for one more drink.

Breakfast was good.  All you could eat buffet and part of the room price so we all were able to save part of our Per-Diem that morning.  Eggs, bacon, sausage, something that looked like hash browns, oatmeal, flaked cereal, hard rolls, and, don't ask me why, pork and beans. 

We piled into the BMW and headed to Camp Darby, that with pin and pencil we would begin doing our part to win the cold war.
                                    

Appian Way - Day One

Appian Way - Camp Darby

A small contingent of National Guard personnel were sent to Camp Darby, Italy to rewrite the defense plan for Livorno.,one of the main sea ports in Italy. I was the Major in charge of rewriting the plan.

We had a lay -over in London for a few hours and were subjected to a high degree of security as only one would suspect for Heathrow. We eventually were notified that our flight to Pisa on Alitalia was ready to board and we proceeded to the appropriate gate. That is when security stopped.

You might say that Italians are a little more lay back than most. We passed through the passenger gate with hardly even a glance from the airline attendants, took whatever seat we wished, received no instructions on how to fasten our seat belts or where our life preservers were, or anything else that might help us survive an un-forseen occurrence. To prevent a hijacking a curtain was drawn across the cabin separating the cockpit and the passenger section. I felt safe, sure.

The attendants were gracious and served all the espresso, biscotto , and wine that we could eat and drink. They were not bad looking either, the attendants not the biscotto. I began to feel safer.

When we landed in at the Aeroporto di Pisa we were left on the runway to pick up our own bags while the other passengers walked to the terminal building. That turned out not to be as bad it sounds. While the rest of the passengers were working their way through customs and machine gun carrying Carabinieri, we shouldered our duffel bags and walked right past everyone. I guess they thought if we were carrying OD duffel's we were OK.

My worst fears were realized when I soon realized there was no one at the airport to meet us. There was not an American uniform in site. I made my way to a public pay phone, figured out how to use it and called Camp Darby and identified myself as if my first name was Major. The operator switched me to the Officer of the Day, a 2LT, who said that they did not expect us until next week. I asked if he thought I ought to camp out on the front lawn and wait. He said he would send someone to pick us up right away.

An hour later a young captain picked us up and wanted to know where we were staying. I said I had no idea and that he better figure something out soon because I had some people who needed food and sleep and I as getting cranky.

He took us to Camp Darby which was about 5 miles away and were shown a cabin that four could sleep in. Unacceptable I informed him. We went to an enlisted mans barracks and found 8 empty beds and I told him that too was unacceptable. I suggested we go to the housing office. The captain explained our plight to a GS whatever and that accommodations on post were not available. I and my rank and crankiness suggested that we be given off base lodging. Everyone agreed and we were given a government voucher to be used at a hotel in Tirrena, just three miles down the road. Fine I said, but how are we going to get back and forth. No problem the lady said, here is a voucher to rent a car. Later my little entourage and I were driving to the Tirrenia di Navigazione spa over looking a nude beach on the Italian Riviera in a five speed BMW.

I could tell this was going to be a hardship tour.

Casino Paul

                                   

This is a guest Blog from Paul I. Fender.

I was the owners representative on two Indian Casino projects. The first was in Canyonville, OR. Right on I5 between Roseburg and Grants Pass. Its was for a re-established tribe, the Umquah Tribe of Indians. During the late 80's under Regan thay achieved tribal status and with their grant bought a track of land along I5 in Canyonville, OR. They originally built a bingo hall. While I was there in the mid 90's we built a 5 diamond hotel and a first class casino. It is named Seven Feathers Casino and Resort. It was a tribe of sorts but really a group of decendents of an old trapper by the last name of Jackson who had an Indian wife. He was originally from St. Joe, MO. I guess he was kind of rough on his women. As time went the mining and lumber baron's ran off the indians. The tribal leader, a woman, was one the decendants. When she found out I was from Missouri we ceased getting along.
Tribal politics being what it is, that was not a good thing. She was a good business woman and knew they needed me. They are doing quite well.

I built a second Indian Casino a little closer to home. The Harrah's Potowatomi Prairie Band Casino in Mayetta, Kansas. This was a band of Potowatomi that were relocated from around the great lakes and the eastern united states. We actually have a trail of tears through Jackson County, MO to Kansas. The Prairie Band are a real tribe with a real reservation. Its located in Jackson County, Kansas. Harrahs was the manageing partner and the developer of the Casino. They brought our firm to the table. After the Casino was finished, I stayed on with the tribe for about 3 years helping with construction projects on the Res. They liked to spend the money from the Casino. I made it through two tribal elections but on the third I was fired along with all the other "white men". The newly elected tribal leader was a pow wow bum who hadn't been past the 5th grade. He was a huge man. Probably 6'6" 300lbs. You did not want to piss him off. My contract was terminated on Christmas Eve. By Spring he had gone off to California for some sort of Indian meeting and never came back. According to the others I stay in touch, nobody knows what happened to him. The tribal leader now is a Harvard Business school graduate and they manage the Casino themselves. They are doing a good job.