Radio Wars

By Frank Absher

American Forces Radio and Television is a service paid for with your taxes, but the value of the service is incalculable. And those of us who were lucky enough to spend our military service working for AFRTS have lots of memories – most of them good.

After my obligatory tour of Southeast Asia, I ended up in the relatively plush studios of AFRTS at Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage. It was there that I learned my most important lesson about the power of radio.
Although it was not known to many civilians in the “lower 48,” there were many so-called “remote sites” in Alaska, Canada and Greenland. “Remote” doesn’t even begin to describe them. The military sites were only accessible by air, so long as the weather cooperated. In winter, blizzards and white-outs sometimes made it impossible to get in or out. Yet the military men were expected to carry out their jobs regardless. Winter also meant 24 hours of darkness, and that’s where my fellow DJs and I came in.

It was our job to keep these guys along the top half of the northern hemisphere entertained, providing them with music and quips to help them get through their 365 days of obligation at those sites. At then end of our shifts, we could go home to our spouses, but they were stuck in the middle of nowhere.

My AFRTS shift began at 6 each weekday morning, and I opened it with a recording of the Mickey Mouse Club theme. This was my way of signaling to all the guys that I, too, believed the military to be a Mickey Mouse organization, but we could all hold on and get through it. Yes, playing that song was against regulations, but management graciously and wisely looked the other way.

Midway through my tour of duty, I got the idea of contacting Disneyland for help in reaching out to the troops. Their corporate art department designed an AFRTS Mickey Mouse Club membership certificate for us. I found a local modeling school in Anchorage that would donate some students to the cause, and using t-shirts and Mickey Mouse ears from Disneyland, the beautiful female models posed with our station’s announcers in the studios and the Air Force photographers printed up a bunch of copies that were sent out through military distribution to the remote sites. Our posters encouraged the guys to send for their free membership certificates.

We were blown away by the response. It seems there were a lot of lonely guys out there and the chance to hook up with our anti-establishment movement was really welcomed. Later in the year I sent my thanks to Disneyland, and then was surprised one morning to walk into my studio at 5:45 a.m. and find a military contingent including a lieutenant colonel who introduced himself as the commander of one of those remote outposts. In a special little private ceremony they presented me with a “fickle finger” commendation and medal to thank me for bringing some light into their lives. I still have the certificate and medal, which was crafted in the shape of a single digit hand salute. It means more to me than I could ever convey to those guys.

Radio was able to provide an escape from the overwhelming boredom those troops faced. It became their companion, and they came to depend on it.

Thirty-six years later my wife took me to one of her business dinners in California. About halfway through the dinner, one of the senior executives suddenly brought the conversation to a halt when he proclaimed, “I remember you. I used to wake up every morning at a remote base in Alaska listening to you!”

It doesn’t get any better than that.

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