While awaiting a security clearance, we were located in a building and given odd jobs to do. The firm got tired of paying rent on this building to the Air Force and so to save money we were moved elsewhere. The Firm handed the building back to the Air Force. The Air Force replied that you bought the building from us in 1946.

This began to give me an idea that this firm was very large which was confirmed by the fact that when a Venetian blind broke over a window, a crew turned up to fix it and their coveralls had the words “Venetian Blinds Dept.” on them. How many blinds were in this firm?

Next stop, I was put in a special dept. where preparations were being made to develop a nuclear driven large plane. I understand the nuclear engine was developed somewhere. We were told we had to take a course in nuclear radiation. Then the whole thing was scrapped. So our course was terminated, I suppose before we got to the part “What to do if you find an eye growing out of the back of your neck.”

So we were moved into the main engineering complex. A single new brick building of 4 acres. A vast area of men in white shirts at drawing boards and desks.

Now from UK, we had the impression that these large American factories would be real gung ho outfits. Not so. There would be a time frame to complete a task. How you went about it was left to you. Wander off in an afternoon to get a haircut. OK. A long extended lunch hour. No Problem. We used to eat at a restaurant which was directly opposite the main gate of Paramount Studios. Weirdly dressed extras eating near us. I used to get some ribbing about my new adventures in assimilating to the new life. I came back with humour. I told them of my first visit to a drive in theatre. I complained how expensive it was. “How come ?” “Well I had to buy a car.”

Summer came and with it the heat. We left work and as I lived in the San Fernando Valley it meant driving against the sun and 104F. Humidity 4% which made ones eyeballs squeak in their sockets. I said to my wife that having to stay indoors in the summer because it’s too hot outside, was crazy. Someone suggested we drive up to the Crest Highway, a spot over 8,000 ft. above SL. About half as high again as Ben Nevis in Scotland. It was cool up there, snow remnants around. Then it started to rain and folk got OUT of their cars to feel it. It was tough starting cars to return as the air was so thin.

A solution to the Valley heat was at hand. Lockheed was starting a new outfit just 35 miles south of San Francisco, an area later to be called Silicon Valley. It was called “Lockheed Missiles and Space” and they wanted engineers to relocate. The established manpower laughed at the suggestion - called it a Cinderella thing. I went for it of course. The outfit consisted of three complexes. One was for developing satellites for the Air Force. At the other end was a Navy complex to develop a Polaris sub launched missile. In the middle was another complex for research and development.

I was sent to the Navy end, into a special section to develop the re-entry body, the bit which goes the farthermost with the H. Bomb. Now a goodly number of the engineers were not aircraft types. Some had come from other industries where a good fit was a ¼ bolt in a 5/16 hole. We called them washing machine engineers. However they were all intent on building empires and giving the impression that they were so important as to have a blue light shining out of their rear. There was a constant give and take with the experienced aircraft engineers.

In time I was heading a small group responsible for the structural integrity of the R/B. It was tough to get the design group to understand that if we did not sign off on a drawing, it would stop right there.

The time arrived to present the R/B to the Navy for their approval. To the design groups annoyance, I was not satisfied, so no signature. They promised that it would be developed eventually to satisfy my structural integrity requirements. Laugh! Did they think that “I had just got off the canoe from up river” as the saying goes? Now this was in the early 60’s. The height of the cold war. This awesome weapon was vitally needed. Intercontinental weapons had got so accurate that our silo weapons could be put out of action upon a Soviet first strike. We had many pep talks from an admiral who was heading the program.

The designed R/B whilst wonderful in many ways, was not good structurally. Meanwhile I had been privately designing a different one. I cannot describe the material each was based upon as I am not sure they have been declassified. Theirs was based upon heat restriction. Mine based upon latent heat of evaporation.

The design group had got wind that I was working on an alternative. They thought it might be a good idea to show the Navy we had worked on alternate designs. “Could I throw something together in the next 6 weeks?” They had spent 18 months on theirs. I did it and it was lighter than theirs which was upsetting. However off it all went to Washington D.C. The Navy picked mine. As the design crowd had spent 18 months of a three year contract, they asked for an extension which the Navy refused. PANIC set in.

A special swing shift was devised to work on the problem. I was in charge of the technical aspect and we had a team of 40 selected hotshots, headed by a real older aircraft engineer. He had many offers of management but refused them all as he wanted to remain an engineer. We got on wonderfully. Great arguments in good spirit. This was about the most exciting work I can remember. Time flew by so fast. As we went in about 4.00 pm, the regular work force left and we had the building to ourselves. Air conditioning was perfect. No phones going.

Upper supervision seemed not to exist. If it was it would have been just “How is the project going?” “Great”. “That’s good!” We were left well alone. In 4 months we did it. At the end my friend invited us all to his house for a party. He had the most amazing model train layout. There you have it! Who could not get along with a trainman?

The Royal Navy also adopted my design. I was pleased with this as I always had a soft spot for the Navy which I nearly joined when a youth. Lucky I did not, as it turned out I was a poor sailor, the type who gets seasickness sitting on a damp lawn.

Now at that time I was politically naïve. I learnt at my mother’s knee, or some other joint, that to get noticed, one had to make a mistake. For more notice, show that many higher ups had made a mistake.

It filtered down from the Golden Towers that “How come it took over 100 people 18 months on one R/B yet 40 people did it in 4 months?” Looking back I now understand that many careers may have been in a nervous state. I did get some commendations and thanks for saving about 30,000 man hours. No cheque attached.

I happened to see a piece of paper which designated me as “Design Specialist Lead Engineer”. No one had told me. What an outfit! But it did explain why I kept being asked to dream up things which the military requested. I needed the extra work like a stag needs a hat rack. No cheque attached.

Time passed, but the pressure persisted. The height of the cold war. What if push came to shove and it did not work! We would not be here. Then again my part would be tested with test flights. Not to worry. The thing which it carried with all its complexity was nothing to do with me. Yet sometimes I thought about its enormous power. Twenty times the power of the first Hiroshima bomb. Three on a missile. This was in the sixties. Now there are developments to new Trident subs and new types of things.

Late sixties, Boeing was starting on two new airplanes. I thought it would be great to go back to my first “love”. I went up to Seattle and met the Chief Weight Engineer for the whole commercial division. He gave me a job to look over anywhere on the 737 in the design stage to save weight. The freedom to do this was fine but in doing so I found serious “boo-boos” when I had to increase weight. Being new I had not met many people and I had to approach the Chief Structures Engineer with the sad news. Item failures could cause minor things, like a wing falling off. This could cause consternation amongst the passengers.

Next thing I knew this boss got me transferred to his outfit. Then he was transferred to the new 747. I followed and it was a fun time. Looking at redesigns to save weight etc. Now with these big firms, when you reach a certain level they think they own you. If the phone goes in the evening to come to a special meeting, one is expected to show up. Summer barbecue invitations must go. Wives were watching the competition. Men were milling around wondering if they are passing scrutiny by bosses.

This was not for me. I left and started a small business unrelated to previous endeavors. I did this for a few years and made money. However my brain was getting rusty. I had made many technical data sheets and graphs for Boeing and Lockheed. Found them, and I could not understand any of it.

About this time, the Royal Aeronautical Society, (which I was an associate member thereof) sponsored me to the Council of Engineering Institutions to be recognized as a Chartered Engineer. A professional engineer in the UK, that is. So now I am entitled to put CE after my name. However no cheque attached.

About this time I met a man from S.W England. During the War he was the superintendent of the experimental shop at Airspeed, Portsmouth, in charge of the development of Troop carrying Horsa gliders. As Westland was only 40 miles away we had a lot in common. In his spare time he built a great Union Pacific 4-8-4 Northern. He was 10 years older than me and was grateful for my help. I was hooked!

I joined the Burnaby Central R.R in 1980. Their track was small, interesting and a lot of fun and I made many friends. Later they moved to a much larger space and built a much larger track. Wealthy Brits from the S.W England came over for summer runs. They need no introduction, so I will not give them one. Burnaby was 150 miles from my place. Due to health reasons, I cannot do it anymore. Guess I am in my twilight years at 88. I have been a widower for over 10 years. I live in my own home and try to keep going by going to senior ballroom dances once or twice a week. I am not much of a cook, but my culinary disasters may not be so bad as the toxic waste disposal people do not call anymore.

My train activities are now confined to my home track which I helped found in 1990, Kitsap Live Steamers in Port Orchard, Washington State. As we are the only small train outfit allowed to carry the public we come under the State Boiler Board rules. Each April, the State checks out our 23 steamers. We have two large club diesels, privately owned diesels and quite a few electrics. Our trains run through lovely woods on the edge of a big county park. Running twice a month we often give over a thousand rides in a day. I am able to provide technical inputs to anyone interested, but not many are.

I hope this long tale does not bore you. For me, I was very fortunate to have chosen a career which I enjoyed. Lots of problems, ups and downs, but when a problem is solved, there is always great satisfaction.

The days fly by, I cannot tell one from another. If in doubt I look at my pill box. Now I am left with a cluttered office, many certificates etc. on the wall, all signed by people who are all dead.

Keep steaming!

Walt.

My three monsters are under the Nose Cone—the black area at the top.

The Test was not aimed at Taunton!