707 Radar Squadron’s Last Parade

Just as there is a “first” for all things, there is also a “Last”.  You remember your first romantic encounter; someone else will remember your last.  You remember your first car, and someone else will remember your last. And so on.  That’s the way it works, and so it should. 

I will remind you of that fateful day, and tell those that had the good fortune to have missed one of the more important military maneuvers ever issued from that wonderful little squadron, hidden in the north woods of Minnesota.

We, as members of this elate group were invited to participate in the “happenings” on the forth of July 1963.  Most of the town of Grand Rapids, Minnesota would turn out to see the High School Marching Band, The National Guard,  the Elks, and the Moose Clubs were there, In fact just about anything that would march, walk or be hauled past the reviewing stand would be called on the join in.  It would be a historic event, with the Military being only second to the great paper mill on the Mississippi River as to importance as far as revenue support for the general area.

Major Mitchell, the Commander of the Squadron was excited about the coming Holiday events, and pursued a good showing to represent the Military.  His Officer Staff, under the command of a Captain, nearly wept at the display offered at out first attempt at marching.  We had tall Airman in green fatigues, shoulder to shoulder with short Airman in light Tans (1505’s) next to fat Airman in Dress Blue’s.  And so it went.  We wore Brogans, Boots, Dress Oxfords which had not seen polish for many a day, etc.; All in all we looked like we may have arrived in a bus from the potato fields just North of there. Let me explain here and now, This Squadron was “Chock a block” full of very bright Technicians that gave little thought to “Spit and Polish”.  The Captain shook his hear, and gazed off into space, the Second Lieutenants huffed with red faces and words of disapproval.   Meanwhile, we “grunts” plodded along behind the Sergeants.  After a few days of practice, we improved, but not all that much.

The Forth of July was upon us, and we were about to show the town, and the “Founding Fathers what we were made of.  Most of us were packed into a bus, and were off to the Fair Grounds.  We were molded into formation, with the tallest persons to the right front.  In four ranks, the command came “If you are taller than the man in front of you, move up.” Next came the order “If you are taller then the man on your right, move to the right”.              

Now came “Dress right, Dress.” (This order provided the proper spacing between us).   It was a straight shot past the reviewing stand, with all the dignitaries   ”Mucky Mucks”, and “Brass”.  When it was our turn to pass in review, the High School Band struck up a great military marching tune, and off we went.  I could hear the command, ”Squadron”, followed by the command “Flight”, “Forward March”.  We were off.  As usual, many of us forgot which leg has the left foot attached, so here we come, hopping along, trying to get in step with the person in front of us. I can imagine that we somewhat resembled a group of frogs bobbing along, but none the less, we were headed for the stand with one goal in mind, and that was to make our Commander proud.   As we approached the stand, I could hear our Tactical Instructor’s voice begin to crack, grow faint, and then disappear completely.  No more “Hup ,Two Three”,  we marched along in silence, passing the reviewing stand, Mayor, Commander and all.  Several yards up the road, someone called in a weak mumble, “Flight halt”.  (We were directly in front of the Pop Corn Machine) “Right Face”, Present Arms”.  (The Pop Corn maker stood with bug eyes, perhaps thinking the thoughts that General Custer had at the Little Big Horn). After what seemed like a week or two, I heard ““Ready Front”, Left Face”, Forward March. I did hear the command “Flight Dismissed”, but by that time we were all walking in different directions, congratulating ourselves for not being shot by the dignitaries, or drummed out of the service for any number of reasons. 

As I said, everything has a first, and last.  Sometimes a person has to promise that “this will truly be the last”, and so it was.

Nick Granzow was one of the last three people to remain on the Station.  The other two were Sr. Master R.V. Johnson, and SSGT Richard Branch.  I was an Airman First Class at the time, and I have told many that I was the third highest ranking person on a military base. I guess I forgot to mention that there were only the three of us.  My duties were to raise the flag in the morning, and take it down in the evening.  When asked if I would extend my tour by another six months, I replied “Thank you, No.”.  I had begun to take on the “Ten foot stare, in a six foot cabin”.

I dedicate this “Remembrance” to our friend and mentor: Ramon (Ray) C. Sanders, SMSgt USAF Ret. Cream always rises to the top,  It always has and always will.  Thank You Ray, for being part of our lives.