Father's Day

Dad passes on. Dad passed away on October 30, 1983 while I was in Texas. My sister, Eula, had called me to say that he was sick and in the hospital. I flew to Idaho Falls immediately. The doctor had diagnosed lung cancer that was terminal. He mentioned the possibility of chemotherapy, but noted it would only slow up the inevitable and cause Dad a great deal of discomfort. I voted no. I checked Dad out of the hospital and drove him home. He worried about how Mother would get along without him; he had been helping her dress and do the housework for years. Since he had never smoked a cigarette in his life, he did not understand why he, a farmer who worked outside all his life and never had anything to do with asbestos, should get cancer of the lungs. Knowing his illness was terminal, he took it all rather calmly and did nothing to fight the inevitable. He died within a month after learning he had cancer. I spoke at his funeral.

During this period, I accidentally heard my brother, Wayne, speak to Dad about the hereafter. Wayne had gone into Dad to ask him to find Wayne's son, Mark, and also his infant daughter, Sandra, as soon as Dad got on the other side. It was perhaps the most poignant witness of the testimony of the gospel I have ever witnessed. It shook me to the core of my being.

I cannot speak enough of my father. I loved him, as I believe all of us did, with an incredible fervor. I have no special explanation for the feelings I have always had for Dad. Perhaps I knew he loved me. He was neither rich nor famous. He was just my Dad. I think of him every day. The following obituary was printed in the Post Register on October 31, 1983:

LeRoy Maurice Hansen, 81, a farmer, died at his home Oct. 30 of cancer. He was born Sept. 23, 1902, in Smithfield, Utah, the son of Erastus and Annie Marie Gamet Hansen. He lived at Smithfield and then moved to the Lincoln area where he has lived since. He attended schools at Lincoln. He married Amy LaVon Buttars June 18, 1924, in the Logan, Utah, LDS Temple. He has farmed all of his life.

He has been an active member of the LDS Church.  He is survived by his wife; three sons, Maurice V. Hansen, Grand Junction, Colorado, and Vienna, Austria, Wayne Lynn. Hansen, Washington, D.C.; one daughter, Mrs. Larry Baldwin Eula, Idaho Falls; 17 grandchildren; 20 great-grandchildren; five sisters, Loveda Peterson, Lydia Perry, Hilda Burnham and Leona Johnson, all of Idaho Falls and Hortense Andrus of Ucon and one brother, Leland Hansen, Iona.

Funeral services will be Thursday at 1 p.m. at the Lincoln Third LDS Ward Chapel. Bishop Larry Acor will officiate. The family will meet with friends Wednesday from 7:30 to 9 p.m. at Wood Funeral Home and Thursday, one hour prior to services, at the church.  Burial will be in Fielding Memorial Park.

I was distraught at Dad’s passing. While putting on a good face, I wept inwardly for a very long time. During this period, I wrote an amateurish poem that helped capture my feelings.

When I was a boy I looked up at my Dad.

One might think now I'd be a little sad,

For now it seems I look down at him.

He has grown smaller and somewhat thin.

But when I was small,

He was the biggest Dad of all.

And oft I looked up to see

If maybe he was looking down at me.

As time passed and I grew,

There was nothing my Dad couldn't do.

Why in baseball, a curve he could throw

And on the trumpet, a mean tune he'd blow.

But insignificant were such things,

Beside the wisdom and love his image brings

To me still. For now I have a father's joys

And know the questioning eyes of girls and boys.

When I was a boy I looked up at Dad.

I'm not sorry, nor remorseful, nor sad.

For even though I now look down at him,

I will throughout all eternity look up to him.

Berlin Part III: "Clobbered," Disciplined, and Decorated - All in a Days Work

Schwerin. For reasons that I have never quite understood I, a lowly Second Lieutenant, was often sent to the Headquarters of the United States Air Force in Europe – at that time located at Lindsay Air Station in Wiesbaden. During several of these visits, the liaison officer from Strategic Air Command (SAC) voiced the urgent requirement to get a photograph of the guidance radar for the SA-2 surface-to-air missile system. It seemed that the Soviets had changed the radar guidance signal from the S-band to the C-band and it was causing SAC significant concern. The only problem was that all SA-2 sites were in permanently restricted areas. I decided that if the Air Force wanted such a photograph, I would get it for them.

SA-2 "Guideline" Surface to Air Missile System

Without a great deal of detailed planning, but imbued with the determination to get what the Air Force Strategic Air Command wanted, Sergeant Ratz and I left Berlin late one afternoon on our way to visit the Soviet missile site at Schwerin in East Germany. During the darkness of night, we spent several hours near the Soviet Air Force base at Rechlin-Lärz/Mirow tearing down every mission restriction sign we could find. Many of these signs had cement posts and were very heavy. We couldn’t just take them down, we had to carry them some distance away, throw them in the river, or take other steps to ensure that it would not be easy to put them up again. In all, we got rid of about fifty such signs and were exhausted when finished. We then drove on to the periphery of the permanently restricted area in which Schwerin was located. There, we grabbed a couple of hours of sleep.

Just before dawn, we awoke and drove to the perimeter of the missile site at Schwerin. As soon as there was sufficient light, I crawled onto the roof of the car and with my Leica camera, equipped with a 640-millimeter lens, took an entire roll of film of the missile guidance radar. At the time, the NATO code name for the radar was "fruitset"; it was later changed to "fansong."

We escaped from the missile site without incident. However, somewhere along the way, we broke our automobile. We had no choice, but to return to Berlin to get another car. While we were there, I gave the roll of film to the photo lab with the instructions to develop it, but not to print anything. We then took another car and returned to the area from which we had come.

First Clobber. It was our intention to take advantage of the fact that we had torn down the mission restriction signs at Rechlin-Lärz airfield near Mirow. As we approached the airfield, we saw a Soviet staff car. We turned around, beat a hasty retreat and hid for about an hour and then returned. However, the Soviets had laid a trap for us. We were captured, held at gunpoint, and threatened with various abuses. In our vernacular, we were clobbered. We knew, however, that only the Soviet area commandant was empowered to deal with us. When he finally arrived, we noted, with some trepidation, that it was the notorious commandant from the town of Neustrelitz, who had the reputation of being extremely security conscious and a great enemy of the military missions. As soon as he arrived, he stormed out of his car and proceeded to heap verbal abuse on me for violating his mission restriction signs. I responded that there were no mission restriction signs. (I knew there weren't because we had torn them all down the previous evening.) He kept insisting that I sign a confession, which I, of course, refused to do. Finally, he showed me his private map on which the location of all the mission restriction signs was carefully marked. I finally said that I would sign his dumb confession if he could show me a single sign that I had violated. So we formed a convoy with my car in the middle, preceded by the area commandant in his vehicle, followed by two Soviet vehicles from the air base and went looking for signs. There weren't any. We stopped in the village of Mirow, where he admitted that there were no signs; however, he explained, British mission car number forty-five had been seen removing the signs. The British subsequently received a diplomatic note protesting this action that we had perpetrated.

Air Force Commendation Medal. The reader will remember that I had turned in some film to the photography laboratory with the instruction to develop it without printing it. Well, in the press of his daily activities, he both developed and printed the pictures I had taken of the Schwerin missile guidance radar, and they were lying on my desk when we returned after two days on the road. Also awaiting me was the order to report to the Chief of the Mission, as soon as I returned. I did. He demanded, "Where did you get those photos of the Fruitset?" "At Schwerin, Sir,” I replied. He dismissed me curtly and called for Lieutenant Colonel Gordon. For disobeying mission policies, I was to receive an Article 15 – a non-judicial form of legal punishment meted out by the military. Colonel Gordon called the Air Force Commander at United States Air Forces in Europe, General Truman Landon, explained what had happened and asked for cover. General Landon then wrote a letter of commendation to the United States Army Europe commander, who endorsed it down to the Chief of USMLM, who had no choice but to endorse it down to the Air Team and finally to me. The Article 15 was forgotten. Instead, I was decorated with the Air Force Commendation Medal on December 13, 1962 in a ceremony conducted by the Commander of the 7000th Support Wing at Rhein Main Air Base.

Receiving the Air Force Commendation Medal