Being among the early waves of dependent families, our quarters in Feudenheim were in a barbwire enclosed 4 to 6 block of pretty much-undamaged appropriated single-family homes. There was 24/7 security with 2 gates manned by MPs. Leaving the compound we were required to wear either an American Flag armband, or Army uniform with triangular US lapel patches. I went to Heidelberg High School for my 10th grade and was the 33rd student enrolled.

New Design by T/Sgt Penz at 94th FIS 1957

Dad was transferred summer 1947 to the Kassel Ordnance Depot. We moved to Kassel and I commuted to Frankfurt to high school and lived in the dorm there. I lasted until the week of 11 November 1947 when I was told not to return, being accused of bringing enough "explosives" to blow up the school. Merely some good German high-powered fireworks I had purchased in Heidelberg for Armistice Day. I missed the rest of the semester before being allowed to transfer to Heidelberg High providing I lived outside the dormitory with an American Family. This worked great for the next year and a half. Senior year was spent living with a classmate whose dad was a Military Police Captain named Hoopert. Graduating in June 1949, I ZI'd to attend college. I turned 18 in October that year and ran right down and registered with the draft board. (Bad move) In June 1950 I returned to Germany for a student's summer trip, and Korea broke out. College was put on the back burner and I stayed. Dad was now in Esslingen, outside Stuttgart. I got a job working for the Stuttgart Army Exchange as a cashier courier. (Brinks Man). There I was, 18 years old, packing a .45 with a full clip, a driver and carrying up to $100,000 in cash (script) picking up receipts from 11 branch PXs and making morning deposits to American Express. This was where the NY kid put his "street smarts" to good use. Ladies in the ration card section of the PX, cigarettes, coffee etc, were more than happy to forget to X the PX ration card for a little remuneration. 'nuff said.

Fat dumb and happy, along came APRIL 1951. DRAFT NOTICE. O crap. I was given a date to report to Marburg for my physical. At that time the ARMY was giving basic at Sonthofen. If I joined the Army it looked like I would be spending the next three years camping out in Graffenwðhr with the 1st Division. Luck of the schmuck, in May, USAF decided to open enlistments in Europe and give Basic at Sonthofen. I collected my personal data and records and OFF I GO to Camp Lindsey, Wiesbaden. Tested, pushed, probed and radiated, both mentally and physically, I aced the AQEs, scored high on the AFQT and was found to be healthy enough not to be probed again. On 28 May 1951, I was Pvt Penz, USAF, AF 10610709 I was on my way to Sonthofen with a partial clothing issue.

Now this is where the YAGBTS begins. Arriving in Sonthofen, I called the number I was given and a German driver in a staff car was sent to pick me up. He loaded my BBag in the car and drove me up the hill to the Repo Depot. I went to the OR to sign in and the driver hauled my bag up to the 2nd floor. He was told to take me to supply to be issued bedding and I was assigned to a 4-man room. The good man hauled the mattress up to the room while I struggled with the sheets, blankets etc. I was Pvt # 9 to arrive. We needed 30 to start the class. The next 4 weeks consisted of building our rifle range (25 yard), free bowling, free movies, free time. After Sat AM standby we went to the OR and picked up our get-off-base free card good to 23:00. Sunday pass was only good 'till 22:00. During this period we were bused to Fursty for full clothing issue. Now we were men in blue.

All replacement troops at this time came by rock and roll MSTS. Southoven was the Army’s repo depot. At times there were only about 150 permanent party/cadre assigned, but when a ship came in, we had up to 5,000 desperate horny Army troops, just ranting and roaring to go to Sonthofen. Kasserne had been Hitler's West Point. Three stories above ground and three, maybe more below. Nobody used the term "off limits", so I and a couple of buds explored. Among all things we found, was a good hiding place. I went into action buying cartons of cigarettes from the repls for 10DM. I was not strapped for cash. The lines at AMEX were beyond belief, so it was easy to "walk the line" and sell DM at 4 per US Dollar. After about 4 weeks my folks came down to visit, bringing my high school sweetie. Nice visit. Best part, I was able to go "underground" to my hiding place and bring up my stash. They then returned to Esslingen and were converted to DM.

Basic was 4 horrendous weeks of jokes. Our full field equipment was a web belt and canteen. No camping out. Furthest we marched was about 1 mile to the rifle range. PT was JJs and easy stuff. Close order drill was done in the quadrangle by our barracks. We'd be hooted and hollered at by the Army troops, and our DI, Sgt (3 stripes) Jones would love to embarrass us by doing WAF cadence count. Our training flight was made up of the strangest mix you have never seen. Seven of us were former dependents; one kid was the US Junior National Bicycle champion, doing races in France, and 2 former servicemen. The rest were a potpourri of US born kids whose parents moved away from the States and never went back. They had until their 21st birthday to decide what they were and they decided by enlisting in the USAF. We had a Frenchman, a Dane, a Swede, an Italian, several Germans and the rest were English, Scotch and Irish. Nobody bothered to tell the CO or 1st Sgt that the last 3 didn't mix well. Fortunately no one got hurt (too bad). This all kind of turned the tables on Sgt Jones. He kept pushing the WAF thing so we huddled and decided the next time he did it, we would count in German. Talk about backfire, he loved it, so would push the German count. Then we would do it in French, or Italian. He finally got the message and just went back to count cadence count.

Graduation day 1 August, rank changed names and along with it came a stripe, no longer slick sleeve Pvt but AIRMAN 3rd class

Having aced the AQEs and there being no tech schools, I had my choice of Career Fields and of course chose 431X1. I also had my base of choice Rhein Main., closest in proximity to my sweetie in Mannheim and my folks in Esslingen.

Signed into 60th Wing, 60th Grp and 12th TCS. Got set up in upper back bay and then went down and got a pass to go to Frankfurt to see the Harlem Globe Trotters.. Next morning went to flight line and talked to line chief, Pappy Stern (?). He guided me through the rigors and difficulty of straight, without a book or school, OJT, and convinced me that I should make another choice. Back to the OR and I talked with the Adjutant, aka Adjutant. He tried to talk me into the OR as a clerk when he saw that I had taken typing in HS. I convinced him I wanted to work in an outdoors type environment so finally wound up in Tech Supply as a 64010. I think everyone in our "guinea pig" flight was being tracked, so it was fine with me. I was now part of a Flying Squadron with real (C-82) planes.

Tech Supply, as opposed to unit or squadron supply, filled the needs of the flight line, parts, tools, prop wash etc. My OJT was exactly that. Do and Learn it. Tools, plugs, rags, requisitions, turn ins. Everything new and different. Didn't have time to get bored. Couldn't wait for Saturday Night pinochle and venison dinner at Mittledicks. Learned my way around base real quick. Service stock on the line was a haven of rags and wiping materials. Pretty soon I was hand picking the rags I wanted, including old jackets and flight suits. A few subtle exchanges here and there, and a new jacket left behind at service stock, and we were rolling. The tool crib was another favorite. Take 4 or five pages of condemned tools to salvage to turn them in. Transaction completed. Cup of coffee, cigarette or two, exchange pleasantries and I would have my requisition for scrap iron filled. Back to supply with the same tools I had just turned in. I never knew of anyone having to sign a Statement of Charges for any shortages they might have had when turning in their toolbox.

Family Visit To Sonthofen 1951

Overnight passes were an applied for privilege. MSgt Perny, First Shirt, allowed me to get a weekend pass to go home once a month. I asked him if I could take a buddy with me for some home cooking and a morale boost. He allowed it and a number of running buds were able to make the trip and wear civvies for a couple of days. Life was good.

The weekend Nav/tng flights were the best recreation tool there was. I only managed two, Dublin and Rome, both in their own ways equally impressive. The 4 P's dance hall in Dublin was where it was all happening, with an upstairs around the wall seating reminiscent of Meier Gustl's. Many poor damsels in distress needed rescuing by the three gallants from the 12th. Robt J, Brad B, and John P. Next day we met at a prearranged park with our "tour guides" and decided renting a car for the day was in order. I got the lucky straw, and was designated driver. After satisfying the rental agreement, off we went. Having never driven on the wrong side of the road sober, it was the scariest ride of my (our) lives. Constant prodding kept me there. But left hand shifting wasn't in the books. A nice ride in the countryside and a stop at a teahouse made the day. The weekend in Rome was a toot of a different horn. One of the more knowledgeable troops, (may have been Dershang) negotiated an all day limo with driver for 6 of us for some ridiculously low price. I think the guy was a former New York Taxi driver. Horn and Gas and hang on to your ass. He took us to all the well known spots, Coliseum, Apian Way etc, and a lesser know but impressive Catacomb. Didn't know Rome had so many. A nice "table cloth" type ristorante`, good meal, veal Parmesan, vino, tip, about $2.50. Then on to St Peter's and the Vatican. A tour of the underground where the Popes are laid to rest, a few more touristy type stops and back to the hotel. He said he would return about 7 PM and take us on a tour of the Pleasure Palaces. The first stop was right out of a comic book. Inside the doors was a gigantic lobby like a movie theater, with velvet covered ropes holding 1/2 the Italian army in line. Whenever one of the "entertainers" would briefly appear, the Madam tuned up her cash register and the catcalls and whistles were like nothing ever heard. The crowd surged and receded like the WAVE at a college football game. We departed, not waiting for the 99 cent blue plate special. After that we were taken to a high class, nightclub, The Club Florida. The drink prices were unreal, so I managed to exit and return with a jug of Chianti. We then poured our own refills under the table until asked (advised) to leave.

I've long run out of space, but not out of tales. One departing tale from the 12th. I had permission to ship my "BASTERT" Motor scooter to the states. I entrained it and me to Bemerhaven and when I arrived, I found now Major Hoopert to be Provost Marshall. I called and said hi. He told me to give him a call when I got to the port to go ZI. This I did and after the required "milk it down" excercise my name came over the speaker. I followed the sound and there was a staff car and driver waiting. Major H had made all the arrangements for me to spend the night at his quarters where I was reunited with the family I had spent my high school senior year with. My old classmate "Fuzzy" was there also. He was in the Army, a medic at the hospital. A nice home cooked meal and then a tour of a few drinking establishments. We met with some of the crew from the SS United States and couldn't buy a drink after that.

In the AM, staff car back to the port, but the Major gave me some very sound advice. He said tell your buddies once you get your compartment assignments and board the ship, go down, dump your stuff on a bunk and go back on deck and be inconspicuous until after the ship is clear of the harbor. Worked perfect. Seems as though this time period was used for making detail assignments and rosters. Not one of us got detailed.

My next assignment was the 94th Ftr Intcp Sq (ADC) at Selfridge AFB, MI. One of the most memorable occasions was meeting "Capt Eddie" Rickenbaker. After 9 years there I was shipped to Keflavik Iceland for a year (366 days). Having had prior training and experience with Full Pressure Suits, I was then, without the knowledge of Air Defense Command, assigned to the 58thWRS(MAC) at Kirtland AFB, NM to be Life Support Superintendent. The former Atomic Energy Commission had paid for 21 highly modified high altitude B-57 Airframes designated RB-57F. They flew in excess of 70,000 feet, and all flights were in Full Pressure Suits. Worldwide TDYs, our own Doctors and medics, entirely self-contained squadron like it was before Consolidated this and Consolidated that. Spent 9 years there and retired after 22 years as a CMSgt.

MAJOR ACCOMPLISHMENT was having NEVER pulled KP in my career.SECOND perhaps, was I spent 22 years on only 4 PCS base assignments, my last being Life Support Superintendent, or Chief Suit Stuffer with the 58th Weather Reconnaissance Sq, RB/WB57F high altitude "Long wing" aircraft. Maj Max Scheurman (Lunsford's buddy) was one of the unbelievable crewmen I helped stuff into a suit for faceplate down no get up and walk around scratch your butt flights of 7 to 8 hours. I salute you, as I SALUTE all my comrades from Sonthofen 1951, 12th TCS '51-54. 94th FIS '54-63, 57th FIS 63-64 through Kirtland AFB N.M. 1 Sept 1973.

Chief Master Sergeant (ret) John R. Penz