Rich Uttke's Page

Rich Uttke, 4709 Mineral Point Road,
Madison WI 53705 - Tel. 608.233-8660

Subject: More Memories
Date: Tue, 6 Apr 1999 00:17:46 -0500

Here are some more pix.

The one called Jail is, I think, the infamous Turkish prison we all heard stories about. Perhaps Ali Kurtulus could verify. The story I heard, in various forms, was about the guy who got really drunk downtown and performed a bodily function on or near the statute of Attaturk (although I can't remember seeing such a statue). The "Turks" (police, citizens, angry mob with torches and pitchforks?) chased the poor fool up the hill. He narrowly made it inside the gate and was "safe". However, as the story goes, the townsfolk/police/somebody was so irate, they milled around outside the gate demanding this GI's head. The story ends with our hero being smuggled out in a mail bag. Whew! Be interesting to see if vets who served at other time heard a variation of this one.

The next one "Avenue" is a shot of the only "boulevard" in Sinop at the time. You can just see the top of the Yeni Hotel at the end of the street on the left.

The 3rd is indeed the infamous Yeni Hotel. Built, I am told by a German company. I wonder if any Russian tourists use it now?

By the way, it turns out the picture I sent was indeed a young Ali Kurtulus. Here's what Ali said when I sent him a copy, " Thanks a lot. It is me, I could not believe my eyes, I was about 18 and had good old memories, I'll never forget all of the soldiers which I met at the Hill (HELL). Everyone at Sinop still talks about the Americans and the Base, every so often people starts rumour that the Americans are coming back to take over the Hill, it'll never happen but that shows the respect is still here. Your friend Murat is very excited, he wishes you to visit him, he asked me to write so. I'll send you some pictures of Sinop and myself, as I have time."

This brings to mind an idea. I'd love to see what all those young GIs look like today. Ernie Wright and I exchanged "old fart" pictures. It was an unusual experience. We both had maintained a vision of a much younger version of the other. The reality was just an older version. It was as if you could see the younger guy just below the surface. Whaddya think, Bill?

Date: Mon, 22 Mar 1999

I can't keep up with that Wright guy but here are some more pictures.

This one shows the Fire Station downtown. As you can see, with this kind of equipment they, and the GIs, had nothing to worry about.

Here's just a street scene. I decided to go off the beaten path and investigate the city. I was intrigued with the architecture and the age of the buildings. Coming from America's Midwest (Milwaukee), it was all quite amazing. I remember wondering why they would make their telephone poles out of concrete. Then I realized that many people were still heating and cooking with wood and, with the exception of some shade trees, there weren't a lot of trees anywhere around Sinop.

Here's an interesting "plaque" that was embedded in a wall. I'm sure the message is ancient and mysterious so c'mon you scholars out there - what's it say?

This good looking fellow is my buddy "Moose". He was a short order cook at the EM club so I met him when I took a part time job there to make a few extra bucks and beat back the boredom. Moose and I used to go snorkeling. He was a great guide but the language barrier kept me from learning all he had to tell. He took me to a restaurant where I picked out something that looked like it was dead and an outdoor movie (no cars) where I couldn't understand a word. I guess in some ways I tried to make up for the bad behavior of some of the guys who got drunk and were nasty to the Turkish help. I wanted him to know most Americans were just regular folks like them.

Ali Kurtulus says he's talked to Moose and he apparently remembers me.Wants me to come and visit. Looks like we'll all have to get our passports renewed and get on that big bird again - one of these days.

Date: Sun, 21 Mar 1999 20:27:37 -0600

I wish I knew what I was looking at in this picture, other than a deuce and a half and some green buildings. I think the smaller vehicle in the background is the "mail truck" although I have no idea why.
The great thing about a web site like yours is that we can all hope someone will solve these mysteries for us. I remember thinking, when I saw those great aerial shots of someone else's portion of the web site, "I wish he had labeled all of the buildings." PICTURE

The next picture is of the famous "Turkish Military Compound". I'm not sure why they were there but the conditions under which they lived were severe. Their only outlet was the constant volleyball games. And these guys were good. I remember a challenge game held downtown in a regular school gym. The Americans against the Turks. We all thought it would be a slaughter. I mean heck, even our shortest guy was taller than their best spiker. Boy were we in for a surprise. No matter how many times our tall guys smacked the ball into their court, they'd somehow get underneath it -- the damned ball would never hit the ground. Their best spiker would have given Michael Jordan's vertical leap some competition. As I remember we lost but it was a great game. To celebrate, I'm sure the Turkish soldiers went back to the barracks and did calesthentics or close order drill. PICTURE

I remember seeing a Turkish Officer in town one day. He had a green uniform not unlike American dress greens but the hat was peaked higher. He was standing next to a private (at least the guy had no stripes) and smacking him in the head while screaming at him. Reminded me of basic training (without the smacking).

I heard a story about the Turkish military in Korea. It seems the American compound was huge, well lit and surrounded by 9 foot fences topped with barbed wire. The nearby Turkish compound was smaller, had no lights and only a single strand fence to keep roving animals out. The American compound was constantly raided by local Koreans trying to make a buck by stealing whatever they could find and selling it on the black market. The fella that told me the story said they even stole 5000 feet of telephone wire. The Turkish compound, it seems, never had a break-in. Apparently the Turks had made a mess of the first would-be thief and had put him on display. Their ferocity in battle was also well known among the Americans that served there.

This photo shows what happens when your only outlet is drinking yourself silly.
The guy with the sweater was Joe something. He and I got tipsy in Ayer, outside of Fort Devens, one Saturday and decided we could walk the 50 miles to Worchester without any problem. We eventually made itbut only because a really kind State Trooper drove us more than half way when he found out we were stupid GIs.
I remember that the soles of my low quarters were worn completely through and my blisters had blisters. I don't know the names of the other folks but the reel-to-reel tape machine in the background is an example of the hottest selling item at the PX. PICTURE

From: "rich uttke" <uttke@itis.com>
Date: Sat, 20 Mar 1999 20:48:39 -0600
Subject: Sinop 1966-1967

This is, I think, the famous front gate. Not much to look at. I can't remember this guy's name. I do remember getting into serious trouble for riding downtown with a carton of Pell Mells. I completely forgot that you were not supposed to give "the locals" any valuable American stuff. Probably because everyone ignored the regs. Everyone I knew got their laundry done, their rooms cleaned and their fatigues hand-washed in a mountain stream (or the closest body of sort-of-clean water) by providing the Turkish individual with the one commodity worth more than American dollars; non-filtered, American cigarettes. A carton was $2.10 at the time. So, anyway, I get taken into this room and grilled by these G-2 guys about where I was taking the cigarettes, who I was bribing, how many secrets was I gonna sell, the whole unbelievable drill. Finally I think they bought the truth, that I was taking them to a friend who had given me many Turkish cigarettes to sample (Yeni Harmons - the upper-class smoke, Askers - the cigarette of choice of the Turkish Army, probably because they were free, and of course, Bafras - the world's most aromatic smoke). I was both scared and indignant. My wrist was ultimately slapped so naturally I never did that again. No way, I mean look at the fierce MPs we had. Nope, I made my buddy come to the base to get them.

Here's an aside about the long fingernail on the little finger of many Turkish men. Some looked quite lethal so I asked one gentleman what this was all about. He informed me that it was for opening cigarette boxes.
Turkish cigarettes came in flimsy cardboard boxes about the size of an American pack. They were like tiny versions of the kind of box you might get chocolates in. The top and bottom parts were held together by paper which had been glued in place. The fingernail was perfect for puncturing and then ripping a line in the paper seal so the box could be opened. I wonder if the Turkish men maintain the custom to open those pesky CD boxes?

This is my good buddy Sherrif. He claimed he was the village wrestling champ and I remember that his arms were as big as my thighs. He was barely 5 feet tall and would greet me by grabbing me around the waist and lifting me off the ground (I was 6'1'' and 220 back then) just to show who was boss. We got along very well even though we could not speak one another's language. He was a great waiter and showed enormous patience with a brand new short-order cook, me.
I got in big trouble with Sherrif one day when I offered him an American snack food. Now we had many discussions about religion so I should have known better but we Americans have a knack for disguising our foods so that their origin remains a mystery. He tried the crunchy morsel and things would have been fine except that the cook Nasif began "babbling" at him and I. Mostly I could pick out a lot of "Chok finas" (very bad). Sherrif ran immediately to the washroom and I could hear a lot of gagging and flushing. Seems those darned pork rinds were not what the average Muslim was supposed to eat. It took a lot of me slapping myself in the head in that world famous I-am-such-an-idiot gesture before he would talk to me. Sherrif and Nasif are dead now, according to Ali Kurtulus. I hope Allah was kind to them both.

This may or may not be a shot of Ali Kurtulus. My memory for names has not improved much. Ali, if this IS you, let me know. If not, perhaps you know who it is. I do remember that this fellow was always trying to improve his English because he really liked things American and claimed that he would some day make it to America.

Steve - KBOK Rich, Bongos & Pipe PX, Maybe
Pictures from 1966-1967

The picture called "Steve - KBOK" shows my roommate Steve Howard (from Washington DC) in the DJ position at the Hill's premier (and only) radio station. It was from here that the really mediocre songs went out. The younger guys wanted rock and roll and the older NCOs seemed to prefer country and western. It didn't matter much because there was little rock and roll available. Some pretty wild album covers and check out that view.
==============================================================---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gil Bouffard <gbouffard@jps.net> wrote:

The picture of KBOK, located in the "Old DOOM Club," at the end of the long hall. In the room behind the TNH-4 Reel to Reel is a rack with an R-390, a CV-??? Radio Teletype Converter and an old Kleinschmidt printer. I hooked it up after I had run a little voltage up my arm. There was a maintenance Sgt out at Bankhead who said he knew all about Radio Teletype. He was WRONG!
Across the hall was the station office.The PX photo is actually the EM Club. You can see the "Old DOOM Club" roof in the background.

Gil Bouffard
=============================================================
The photo called "Rich, Bongos and Pipe" is yours truly. For some reason, probably because I thought they were "cool", I took those bongos with me everywhere. I couldn't even play them very well. I don't remember the guy sittin' next to me but he has that all-to-familiar glassy-eyed look. I drank in those days; not because I liked it but for the same reason I started smoking while on the Hill -- you guessed it -- boredom. There's probably nothing sadder than a bunch of GI's who wished they were somewhere else, with someone else, sitting around drinking themselves numb. There were, of course, some good times and lively conversations. We all thought the rest of the world was pretty much like the way we grew up until we started comparing stories about our homes, jobs, girls, cars, etc.

The picture called "PX - Maybe" is just that -- maybe it's a picture of the PX but I'm not really sure. The PX was where we ordered our Sony reel-to-reel, state of the art, tape machines. Some guys went for the Nikon cameras but we all managed to blow every cent we had -- the money that didn't go for food and drink at the EM club or into the slot machines. The PX also sold really old albums. The rumor was that all the GIs in Europe got first pick, then the guys stationed in Greece and Italy and finally, when all the good stuff was gone, the leftovers would arrive at Sinop. We didn't care. We'd buy them anyway and when we were going home, we would "will" them to KBOK so the next group of "yenis" had plenty of lousy music to listen to.

Barracks Beach Bums Boat Ride

Date: Wed, 3 Mar 1999 03:13:49 -0800 (PST)
Subject: Re: Sinop Pix
From: Richard Uttke <uttke@itis.com>

The barracks was very new and called, I think, Lincoln Hall. It was, I believe, the first built outside of the original Quadrangle (The Quad) of four similar concrete block buildings. The Headquarters building was opposite the mess hall and two other barracks were opposite each other. The close proximity of the buildings was good in those high winds when ropes had to be strung from one building to the next. I remember being TDY in Italy. When I came back my buddies showed me pictures of snow that went at least 6 feet up the stairs to the second floor of the barracks in the quad. So glad I missed it.

The picture of the guys on the beach shows why they called it the Black Sea. I even have a photo of the darned jelly fish that plagued swimmers at certain times of the year. We were able to get K-rations and camping equipment to go on these forays but most of the time we only went for a couple of hours and the walk itself didn't take that long. It broke the monotony and the countryside could be quite beautiful. I only remember two last names Mirabella and Pope and I'm not real sure of those.

The 3rd picture allows me to add a name I'll never forget. Mike Foster from somewhere in California. He was a laid back surfer who did not take much to authority. He was a big guy and about the sloppiest soldier you ever saw and was always in trouble at Devens. Hell of a nice guy though. Married a girl who lived near Devens named Waunita. The boat was "Miss Sinop". I've got a better picture of her somewhere. She was always piloted by a Turkish gentleman who had to keep reminding us that, "No" we could not steer. We got to go for a boat ride only once while I was there (not sure why). It would have been a lot better with a beach full of bikini-clad ladies but we were happy just to do something different.

Date: Sun, 17 Jan 1999 22:55:32 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Ernie Wright's page
From: Rich Uttke <graystarlight@hotmail.com>

Ernie and I met again (via Email) after 30 years. We correspond regularly and discovered we only live a few states away.

When I ran across his shot of the hill from the hotel, I remembered that there was no hotel when I arrived in '66. The Yeni Hotel, as the locals called it, was, I was told, built by a German company for tourists. I remember an all Turkish Rock and Roll group playing on the top floor. They could perfectly replicate the Beatles but could speak only a little English.

I have a ton of other memories -- perhaps another time.

Short Order Initiative

I decided I could end some of the boredom of the hill by taking a part-time job as a short order cook at the EM club. I had to bullshit my way through the interview as I had never cooked a day in my life. Only those of you who have experienced that special boredom only the military seems to be able to produce, could understand why someone would want to work some more after pulling those weird shifts the brass was always trying out on us.

On my first day I was introduced to my "underlings". Technically, I was to be in charge of the kitchen as the others there were Turks. I knew I had to make friends fast because someone had to teach me how to cook. "Moose", a young guy about my age, who later became my good friend, understood that my predicament would also make his life miserable, showed my the ropes. His real name, I later discovered, was Murat Kusitop and he, like me, was a curious chap. We talked endlessly about damned near everything. We even had discussions about religion -- all in broken Turkish/English.

The man who was really in charge was the Sinop wrestling champ (or so he said). He was about 5'1" and his arms were as big as my legs. His name was Sherif so naturally the GIs called him "The Sheriff". He became especially fond of me when he beat me in arm wrestling in front of the others. I was no shrimp. At 6'1", 210 lbs. It looked even more impressive when he damned near dislocated my shoulder. I asked him how he had gained his formidable strength. After a lot of pantomime, I realized he was not telling me he had a special relationship with the sheep but rather that he lifted them at home as a boy growing up and kept in shape by continuing the practice. From that day on, whenever I arrived at work, he would run over shouting OOTKA, OOTKA (his way of saying my name, which I pronounce UTKEY), grab me around the waist and lift me off the ground about a foot. Very disconcerting but it was his way of reminding me that, I might be the American in charge, but he could kick my butt at any time

.There was a third cook whose name I can't remember, perhaps because he communicated with me the least. He did take charge of negotiations on the first night when it came time to prepare the sales report for the EM club sergeant. It seems that there was a long-standing tradition to, shall we say, "reassemble" the monetary facts by creating a new tape showing sales for the day. Since the tape came from an old, hand-cranked adding machine that was in no way connected to the cash box, this was not a difficult task. When I told them this was dishonest and refused to go along, a serious half-hour argument ensued. Upon realizing that I was attempting to mess with a time-honored tradition (not to mention the fact that I was in a country not my own, in a room filled with sharp objects and three hostile strangers). I told them I would rearrange things so they each got $2 but I was not going to take anything for myself. This suited them just fine. They celebrated by preparing a steak sandwich for me and patting me on the back a lot. When I discovered later that the sergeant in charge had his own method of skimming, I didn't feel a bit guilty when after a while I too joined that long line of crooked GI short-order cooks.

From that first day our relationship improved greatly. We were a team. They taught and I learned and the boredom was no more. It was that close relationship that prevented mutiny the day I decided to try something new. As time went by they had more confidence in my abilities even if I was an American. That confidence quickly faded whenever I came up with an idea I thought would improve the operation. They were very reluctant to change their comfortable, and safe, daily routine. I think it was because they were essentially slaves for the military base in the sense that the jobs were few and the pay was very good by local standards. Like slaves, they would do just about anything to keep the boss happy and the boss liked the way things had always been done.

But I had that "give-a-shit attitude" found so often in young soldiers. With that in mind, it's understandable that I would seek a solution to a problem that would combine a bit of the Turkish and American cultures. The problem was the hamburger buns. They were made by the "locals" and like the locals, the buns were very hardy, and solid. Unlike the locals, however, the buns were "tall". Far too tall for American GIs used to the flat, rubber-bread, hamburgers buns of the day.

On that fateful day, as I was cutting an inch-thick slice out of the center of another bun, the light bulb went on in my brain (about 25 watts). As I had arrived at Det 4 from the states about the time McDonalds introduced their new sandwich, I thought, "Hey, why throw away perfectly good bread. If I slap another slab of ground whatever in there, I could have a sort of Turkish Big Mac.I prepared the first one for myself while the other cooks watched. They just shook their heads -- I think they thought burgers were pretty weird in the first place. I made the second one for the American running the bar (traded him for a soda or two). He loved it.

Yankee ingenuity took over. I made a sign announcing the new sandwich and priced it at a buck. At the end of the first day, I knew I had a winner. The sergeant in charge of the EM club had a different idea. He wanted to know just what the hell I thought I was doing inventing a new sandwich without his OK. By what authority did I, a mere SP4, set prices on products, and blah, blah blah!

I prepared one for him while he yelled. I gave him the burger and the sales totals. He ate the new sandwich, while reading the good monetary news, and gave his official OK. It was only days later when I overheard him bragging to his boss about his clever new idea.

When I left the Hill in '67, those strange new burgers were still being sold. Any of you hillsters out there remember the Yeni burger?

Allahismaladic, Rich

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