Why I Hate Wires

Before beginning my series of posts on many things wireless, some of these things pretty wonderful, I have to disclose why I don’t like wires.

A long ago post explains the problem that making real holes in real walls is for a nerd.  Much better to make a virtual hole which requires no patching, painting wallpapering, or other repair.  But that’s only part of the story.

Way back in the late ‘60s I enlisted in the National Guard as an alternative to being drafted and possibly as a way to stay out of Viet Nam although we thought we’d be sent there eventually.  The only unit in my area with a vacancy was Signal Corps – OK, that might be interesting technology.  Besides, I had no choice.

I was made a 36K10 – pole wireman.  That meant that I had to climb telephone poles with spikes.  You don’t belt in until you get to the top and are ready to work (if you get to the top).  It’s an understatement to say I wasn’t good at climbing these poles.  The idea is you keep your butt way out so that your spikes point toward the center of the pole. If fear makes you hug the pole, the spikes rip out of the wood and you’re sliding down a pole of splinters,  Then you choose between pushing off to avoid the splinters or falling fast and breaking your ankle when your spikes dig into the ground.

If you get to the top (rare event in my case), you and all the people belted into poles throw a basketball from pole to pole.  If you don’t lean out far enough to catch it, you’re supposed to go down and get it.  Most people I trained with could scamper up and down the poles with ease.  I had to threaten them with bayonet and rifle range accidents if they ever threw a ball in my direction.

Our trainers – most of whom had served a tour or two in Viet Nam - taught us the not-very-difficult skill of walking a wire to figure out where it was broken or shorted when the phones stopped working.  “Sarge, did you do this much in ‘Nam?” I asked casually glad to be doing an exercise on the ground.

“F’ing never.”

“Why, Sarge, wires don’t break there?”

“Don’t use no f’ing wire in f’ing Nam.”

“What?”

“You use f’ing wire, f’ing Charlie (Viet Cong) f’ing cuts it. F’ing Charlie f’ing knows where he f’ing cut it so he puts in an f’ing booby trap or f’ing waits there to waste your ass. Only use f’ing radio in ‘Nam.”

“So they don’t need wireman in ‘Nam?” This sounded like good news.

“Don’t matter what the f’ your specialty is, Private; they just need your ass over there to f’ing carry a rifle.”

In-f’ing-credible, I thought.  “Sarge, how come we’re training to be wiremen if they don’t use wire in ‘Nam?  How come we gotta climb those f’ing poles?”

“Enough f’ing bullshit, Evslin.  Give me twenty pushups and fix the break on top of that pole.”

Eventually was promoted to 36K20 because I could fix the switchboard but haven’t liked wire ever since.  Love wireless.