Bill Mazer, CTT2 USNR 1966-1972, San Vito Italy

 

Just before I graduated high school in 1966, my dad a retired Chief Boatswains Mate had a sit down father and son talk with me.  
By in large I generally ignored these, as at 17 years old I knew more than my dad – RIGHT!  Well this time he scared the hell out 
of me and I listened to what he had to say.  He pointed out that this thing in Vietnam was going to turn out to be one very nasty 
thing and because I could not afford college he thought that I should get into the Navy before I got drafted into the Army and 
ended-up in a rice patty in Southeast Asia looking at water buffalos and penicillin shots.  We lived in Jacksonville, which had 
three big naval bases.  Dad said he had some contacts and could get me into the naval reserve program there in Jacksonville.  
I thought what he said made some sense to me and I joined right after high school.  At that time, the reserves allowed me to get 
the GI bill and come back home and go to college after two years of active duty. 

The first choice I had to make was to go either to a four week (an option for reserves) or a full eleven weeks (another option for reserves) 
of boot camp.  I had nothing to do for the summer, so I took the eleven week vacation in Great Lakes – what a f…….. mistake that was!!  
The day I arrived, people were coming out of the mess hall and throwing-up into buckets on the lawn in front of the mess hall – welcome 
to Great Lakes and the Navy.  I have many fond memories of Great Lakes, such as doing push-up with a piece in my hands, blistering my 
knuckles, because the metal ends of my close-ties were pointed in the wrong directions – did the commies really care?  I was told they did!

I had taken some commercial art courses in high school so the people in Great Lakes who make these life changing decisions attached me to 
the band company – as in music.  The band company was going to play at a football game at Soldier Field and I was to design a flag for them.  
Most of these kids, in the band company, had some college and pretty high scores on their battery of tests for the Navy.  Also, as it 
turned out, a lot of them had language skills and were going into something called Communications Technician and they were going to be 
“I Branchers”.  The idea of this group was intriguing because they couldn’t tell me what they were going to do, but they thought it would 
be fun and challenging.  So when I got back to Jacksonville I had to select a rating and I asked to be a CT and so it happened, I became 
one without knowing anything about what I was getting into and no one could tell me anything – they just didn’t know anything about the rating.

About a year after joining, I had to go active and was sent to Corey Field for training.  I hated the ditties and they hated me even more.  
I spend many a weekend pounding out the ditties so I could get to 20 words and 25 numbers – the magic threshold that allowed me to avoid going 
to the fleet and chipping paint.  Eventually, I passed and got the option to go either R or T branch.  That was a no-brainer, I selected T branch 
with my next breath.  I really enjoyed T branch school and was quite good at it.  Near the end of school my instructor asked me if I wanted to 
become a CDAA operator.  What in the heck was that I asked?  He said it was a Wollen-Webber array operator and that’s all he could say.  Once again, 
I was intrigued by the mystery of what ever it was that no one could tell me about.  So I went on to C school to be one of those guys.  I loved it; 
it was fun; it was interesting and above all it was very important!!  Eventually, the fateful day came when minions at Ft. Mead decided where my 
buddies and I were going to spend the next several years of our life.  I had my wishes: I wanted to go to Edzell and didn’t want to go to Adak!  
The Chief, who was reading out our orders, looked at me, smiled and said “Bill you’re going to San Vito Italy”.  I could live with this!  I was 
looking for Scottish red heads, but Italian brunettes would do just find – so much for the dreams of an 18-year old.

I really enjoyed the next two years.  I work with some very fine and very dedicated people who really made a difference in this world – though 
no one could ever talk about their achievements.

Bill Mazer