Frank unimpressed with the ‘Hot Shot’
So Frank and his men were fed and fanned and waited in the heat for another engine to come, which it finally did about 10 p.m. With creaks and jerks, the engine, nuclear car, and caboose pulled out, headed for Tulsa, Okla. Well, well.
Once they arrived in the Tulsa rail yard, the exact thing happened all over again. Bam. The engine stopped, disconnected, and left the rail car and caboose stranded in yet another huge rail yard.
This time there was no one to flag down, but on a pole, Frank saw a phone, and he grabbed that and explained the situation to the person on the other end and told them how unhappy he was to be an army officer left in middle of nowhere.
Well, it seems Frank’s call went to the next superintendent and this man knew how important the army contracts were to the rail line.
“How fast can you get us out of here?” Frank asked.
“Have you heard of the ‘Hot Shot’?”
“Nope,” Frank answered.
“Well, it’s the fastest train from the Midwest to the coast and it is due in here in 10 minutes.”
That superintendent made some phone calls and he got the “Hot Shot” over to the nuclear train car and caboose as soon as it had unhooked.
Once rehooked, the Hot Shot took off and was on its way to Oklahoma City. Flying down the tracks, the Hot Shot had Available Frank in Oklahoma City in no time.
Once in Oklahoma City, Frank found no one to call or complain to there, and learned a local train would pick them up around 9 p.m., arriving at Fort Sill about 5:30 a.m. the following day.
By this time, Frank’s uniform didn’t have an inch that wasn’t sweat soaked and had permanent wrinkles, and this local trail stopped at every city between there and Fort Sill. When the train arrived at Fort Sill the next morning, Frank decided he and his men were the sorriest looking detail he had ever seen.
After cleaning up and getting fresh clothes, Frank and his men flew back to Colorado Springs, and in reflection, he decided that the train trip was the most miserable ride he ever took.
Finally it was time to leave for Korea. In September of 1958, Frank flew to Denver, from there to Salt Lake, and on to Oakland. The next leg was to Hawaii, then Guam, and then Japan.
The trip took three days and included a leg that was nearly as miserable as the train experience. The airplane flying to Hawaii had lost its air conditioning. On board were civilians as well as military personnel, and many young women with children and that included crying babies who were too hot and unconsolable.
When the plane landed, the door was opened but no one was allowed off the plane ” something to do with the customs people being late.
Well, after a while of this and everyone more than miserable, Frank took matters into his own hands. He got up, walked down the isle and ignored the personnel who said he couldn’t disembark. Brushing by protesting an airline stewardess, he marched down the stairs. Inside the terminal, he asked for the manager of the airlines.
Once found, Frank pointed back outside to the air plane. “See that plane? Inside are people being held hostage by the heat and your incompetence. Get people out here to handle this right now. If you don’t go out there and tell those folks they can disembark and come into this terminal where it is tolerable, I am going to tell them myself.”
“Yes, sir,” the manager said and hurried to make arrangements to get the people off the plane right now.
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