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.