Memories of Morse Code
 
By Wayne K. Brown
Copyright 1991


In 1943 Uncle Sam decided he wanted me in the military service.  World War II was going on and many received the same greeting that came to me.

After a very short (less than two weeks) basic training at St. Petersburg, Florida and a battery of aptitude tests, it was decided that radio operator/gunner was where I would best fit.  Knowing nothing of either radio operating or gunnery, I went to Madison, Wisconsin where the radio Operator/gunnery School was located.  Eyesight problems precluded gunnery, so high speed Morse code had another pupil

Beginning Morse code was with a pencil-penmanship suffered because of speed printing required. Once a certain speed (I think it was 25 words per minute) was attained, pupils switched to a typewriter.  Luckily, I already knew how to type (as a civilian teletype operator), so my code speed picked up.  
My top speed of 65 words per minute was enough to earn number three in a class of 30, r so.

During radio operator's school, sometimes to break the monotony of copying code for long periods, the sender would start sending PE777 PE7 JA.  These letter and numerals have the same rhythm as the song, "The Old Grey Mare," and gave comic relief.  Sometimes on the midnight shift (the school operated 24 hours a day) students would literally fall asleep while copying code, (especially on a typewriter).  The instructor would observe the student and switch that one position to a much higher speed.  It never failed to wake the student.

Upon graduation, class members were sent to various places, some overseas, and some stateside.  I wound up at the southern tip of Iceland in a small village called Vik (Cove in English).  A radar station, weather station, and a radio station, plus aeronautical navigation equipment made up the international military force located there.  The only radio operation at Vic was a once-a-day broadcast of the local weather conditions-sent in numerals only.  So, proficiency in alphabet Morse code suffered.

Iceland, located near the Arctic Circle, is directly beneath the brilliant Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) which made a direct effect on radio communications-static.  Added to that, snow storms in the form of small, snow pellets which add another type of static-white noise.  And, if course, it was wartime, so Germany was jamming all radio frequencies.  Trying to copy Morse code with all of that going on was just about as easy as walking a tight rope blindfolded.  This was my baptism by fire at radio operating.

Morse code is an interesting communication means.  It is composed of a tone broken into segments-short segments are dots and long segments are dashes.  Each letter, number, and some punctuation marks are assigned a combination of sounds.  The tone is adjustable to suit the preference of the operator.  But in those days there was no adjustment to tune out static or jamming.

Some funny things happened during that period.  A flight of bombers was coming from Greenland to Iceland on their way to England.  The distance was so great that the "point-of-no-return was reached before Iceland was.  A radio operator was using Morse code with the incoming planes when a puzzled look came across his face.  Turning to the shift supervisor, he asked, 'what is dit dit dit  dah dah dah  dit dit dit?'  The supervisor about fell through the floor.  He grabbed the headsets off the operator's head, pushed him off the seat, and answered the international distress call himself.  That was the first time that operator had ever heard a distress call.  No doubt, he recognized it the next time.