“And we have splash down!” some news reporter would exclaim as the capsule dropped into the sea and bobbed about, waiting for the signal from the swimmer that it was okay to open the capsules hatch. If it was opened to soon the craft would sink.

About that swimmer: Not once has the Navy sent a man out to greet the awaiting astronauts. It has always been an Air Force Pararescueman.

During the first splash down of a U.S space capsule some reporter said the swimmer was Navy. It’s was an easy mistake to make after seeing the swimmer jump from a Navy Helicopter.

But the Air Force’s top brass was so offended by the slight they ordered the letters, “PJ,” stenciled on the back of the swimmers headgear to identify him. Too bad the top brass never got around to telling the media that “PJ,” stands for Pararescue Jumper.

As for Apollo 9, its crew consisted of Commander Jim McDivitt, Command Module Pilot David Scott, and Lunar Module Pilot Rusty Schweickart. After launching March 3, 1969, they spent ten days in orbit.

There was always that point in the re-entry process of a space capsule where the news reporter would say, “The capsule has entered the radio blackout zone.” It was spoken with some amount of dread in their voice.

These silences are also known as ionization blackouts, or reentry blackouts. These are caused by an envelope of ionized air around the capsule, created by the heat from the friction of the craft against the atmosphere.

It’s true that for about three minutes, the Apollo capsule would be completely out of contact with ground communication. It had to be the longest three minutes in the lives of both those on the ground and those in the capsule.

Imagine the relief — seeing all three parachutes opened, above the capsule.

One of my favorite news reporters was a guy by the name of Jules Bergman. He worked for ABC News and covered NASA’s Apollo space program for as long as I can remember.

What I liked about his reporting of the rocket launches and such were the various ways he would explain what was happening and what would happen in the near future with the rocket, capsule and the astronauts. He used various ways of demonstrating stuff – either by drawings or by models.

I tried to duplicate what I saw on TV.

Bergman made the complexity of every mission easy to understand. That’s because he often took part in the same training and simulations the astronauts did.

He later covered the missions of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s unmanned space probes, notably the Viking  and Voyager programs. He also covered the Space Shuttle program from its first flight through the 1986 Challenger disaster.

Jules Bergman passed away in 1987.

A group of animal activists presented Nevada Governor Brian Sandoval’s office with a petition of 15,000 signatures asking him to delay Nevada’s first ever bear hunt. However NoBearHuntNV.org was met by the Governor’s staff as they claimed he was in Homewood, California for the 15th Annual Lake Tahoe Summit.

The problem with this is the summit wasn’t scheduled to begin until the following day. So either Sandoval’s staff was misinformed or they used the occasion to dodge the organization and the possible media fiasco it could have caused the Governor.

As for the summit, Sandoval and California’s Governor Jerry Brown signed an agreement allowing the state’s to work together creating water clarity for Lake Tahoe down to 94-feet by the year 2076. Unfortunately, I will not be around to check on their progress by that time – then again neither will Governor’s “Sandocrat,” or “Moonbeam.”

Meanwhile, Nevada’s inaugural bear hunt remains on target.

It was a typical rainy day and instead of letting us drive her crazy, Mom put Adam and me to work drawing and coloring. It was one of my favorite things to do aside from playing with all the other kids who live in the neighborhood.

Mom was in the kitchen making dinner and Adam was sitting at our dining room table with me, busy doing the same thing. It’s one of the few times I can recall the two of us not squabbling with one another.

In the corner of our living room was an old black and white television set Dad had borrowed from Pa Sanders. Jus’ recently on it, I had seen a rocket zoom into outer space and a space capsule float to earth, landing in the ocean — and it inspired me.

I think I drew as accurate a series of pictures as any little kid can of the Apollo 9 mission.

Learning how the whites dealt with the native population during the early years of Del Norte County has often caused me to reflect on how I deal with people. In the case of A. French’s murder and the rushing to judgement, I have discovered other problems tend to crop up.

In this case — for a while it was the Klamath Mounted Rangers versus the Coastal Rangers.

The hanging of the three Indians did little to curb the growing tension between white settlers and local Indian tribes. Soon violence erupted during 1854-55 when 30 natives were killed along the banks of Lake Earl during various encounters.

The killings were in part due to the retaliation of the death of the white farmer French. But before the murder of French, a group of defenders were formed to protect settlers from hostile Indians.

Called the Klamath Rangers, they were formed on April 27, 1854 and comprised of 66 men. Henry Kennedy was the company’s first lieutenant and W. J. Terry as their Captain. The Muster Roll of this company is dated “From May 2 to June 5, 1854″, and shows the Klamath Mounted Rangers served that length of time in actual service.

The troop saw a great deal of action when the unit in company with the Union Volunteer’s, (now Arcata,) took the field against the Indians of the Tule Lake Region, in a short but bloody campaign.

Three times Terry wrote to Adjutant General William C. Kibbe, in regard to his command. In the first letter dated June 25, 1854, he expressed his regrets that the arms had not been received in time for the Fourth of July, as they had planned to give that glorious day a grand celebration.

He also complained another militia company had been organized, saying it was unnecessary as one company was sufficient to keep the Indians in subjection. He added that this new company called, “Coast Rangers”, under Captain Thorpe was composed of “beach combers and sailors who had no experience in the mountains.”

Evidently someone else had said the same thing to the general about the Klamath Mounted Rangers. It appears being called a beach comber and/or a sailor was quite the insult back then.

The Coastal Rangers organized themselves on May 13, 1854, under the command of Captain Thorpe. His first course of action was to write to reported to Governor John Bigler on July 12th asking for army revolvers and that his commission be sent by the next boat. Four boxes of percussion rifles and accouterments were shipped to the company November 14, adding to the twenty he had already received September 15th.

The company made good use of the arms as the Indian attacks continued from December 27 to January 29, 1855. The Coast Rangers and Klamath Rangers, together with volunteer citizens, under the command of First Lieutenant Myers engaged in several skirmishes, killing about thirty Indians and resulting in one of their own men being wounded.

Myers gave the Adjutant General a brief report of the activities by letter on March 10th, in which he informed the general that he had requested Mr. P. Bryan to make up a payroll of all the services and expenses incurred. But it seems there was some contention over the nonpayment of the officers, as the Lieutenant explained both he and the Second Lieutenant had paid their fees to the Captain to be sent in to Headquarters, but had been lax in-sending his money in.

The Lieutenant concluded his letter to the general, “…Captain Thorpe has moved away, some time back, and that I have taken command.”

It seems the Captain had better things to do than fight Indians or lead his men. Of course Thorpe wasn’t the only officer to vacate his post.

Of the three letters from Terry to the general, two were addressed from Crescent City. The third, dated October 30, 1855, however is from Yreka and signed simply William J. Terry.

From the manner in which the letter is written its apparent Headquarters was trying to call together all the State Militia in an effort to attend an Encampment  Terry told the general he would like to comply with the solicitation, however Klamath Mounted Rangers were disbanding.

After all, the company had been composed of miners, mechanics and merchants, most  having left their jobs to serve. They would be reluctant to attend the Encampment in Sacramento, preferring to return home to their families and livelihoods.

Meanwhile, residents along the Smith River feared revenge from local Indians for the execution of Black Mow, Jim and Narpa. Their paranoia led to the surveillance of Tolowa Rancheria at Yontucket, where Yurok, Rogue River, Chetco and Tolowa could be found living.

This, along with the discovery of “secret trails,” raised the whites’ suspicions. Word went out that a “possible Indian uprising” was being planned and with that the white’s decided to strike first.

Finally on New Years Day 1855, some Smith River settlers, the Klamath Mounted Rangers and the Coast Rangers, attacked the Rancheria, killing 30 natives. There were no reported injuries or deaths among the whites.

There is no further recorded activities of the Klamath Mounted Rangers other than remarks of the Adjutant General’s Report for April 1861 noted the company had been disbanded. As for the Coast Rangers they disbanded without notifying anyone and have faded into history.

Can you say: From bad to worse?

Researching family history has led me down some very interesting paths. Lately, I have been looking into Grandpa Tom Darby’s military records.

While I haven’t found very much about his service, I have located the ship on which his brother, Vincent was assigned. This also led me to a second cousin, whom I had never spoken to until recently.

Also named Vincent Darby, my cousin is about ten years older than me. Out of the blue he called me one afternoon and we began to talk.

And while he knew little to nothing about Grandpa Tom – he told me a lot about his Dad.

Uncle Vince, as I always heard him called by Dad, was a couple of years older than Grandpa Tom. And like Grandpa Tom, he too served in the U.S. Navy during World War II.

While I have yet to find out what ship or boat or barge Grandpa Tom was aboard, Cousin Vince did point me in the direction of a ship his Dad was assigned. That was the USS DuPont (DD152/AG-80.)

I hope that by discovering the ships history – I’ll discover some long-lost family story.

Uncle Vince joined the US Navy in 1942 — shortly following the attack by the Japanese on Pearl Harbor, December 7th, 1941. It’s from there I pick up the ships history.

The Du Pont rescued 30 survivors from a torpedoed merchantman on March 15th, 1942 as she continued through January 19th, 1943, to guard convoys from New York and Norfolk to Key West and Guantanamo Bay. After an overhaul, the Du Pont returned to the Caribbean to escort tanker convoys between Aruba, Netherlands West Indies, and Guantanamo Bay until May 17th, 1943 when she sailed from Aruba to the Mediterranean.

She arrived at Algiers, Algeria, June 1st, and put into Casablanca five days later. The destroyer sailed on June 9th, for New York in the escort for Card, rescuing four men from downed aircraft during hunter-killer operations en route. She arrived at New York, July 6th.

Between July 17th and September 12th, 1943, the Du Pont made two voyages to Ireland on convoy escort duty. On September 25th, she sailed from Norfolk for an antisubmarine patrol with a hunter-killer group centered on Card.

By October 6th she had joined the screen for aircraft carrier USS Bogue during exercises in Casco Bay and Long Island Sound. The group sailed from Norfolk November 14th to give close support to a Gibraltar-bound convoy.

During the return passage December 12th, one of the Bogue’s aircraft sighted and bombed a German U-Boat. The Du Pont and USS George E. Badger continued the attack, driving the submarine to the surface on the morning of the following day.

The destroyers opened fire and after the submarine’s conning tower exploded, the DuPont rescued 46 survivors including the captain of the U-172, as it sank. The Du Pont shared in the Presidential Unit Citation awarded the Bogue task group for distinguished success in operations against submarines.

The Du Pont escorted a convoy to Gibraltar and back to Boston between January 25th and March 9th, 1944, and then returned to escort duty in the Caribbean. She left Norfolk June 11th in the screen of the seaplane tender, USS Albemarle sailing by way of Casablanca to Avonmouth, England, arriving June 28th.

The Du Pont returned to Boston July 13th with the Albemarle, carrying casualties from the June 6th D-Day invasion at Normandy, France. After overhaul and refresher training, the Du Pont put into Charleston Navy Yard September 16th, 1944 to undergo conversion to an auxiliary vessel.

Reclassified AG-80, September 25th, 1944, she sailed from Charleston October 9th and arrived at Key West two days later to act as target ship for Fleet Air Wing 5. She rescued two downed aviators on November 24th, and two days after that transferred her doctor to a Norwegian merchantman to render emergency treatment.

She continued to serve off Florida aiding aviation training until April 1st, 1946 when she arrived at Boston. In addition to the Presidential Unit Citation received in 1943, the DuPont was awarded three battle stars for her service during World War II.

The Du Pont was decommissioned May 2nd, 1946 and sold for scrap March 12th, 1947.

While my research as only scratched the surface of Uncle Vince’s background, I now have a place to look. And even if I fail to discover any further details in my great-uncle’s life during World War II, I hope that sharing this finger-nail account of the ship he was assigned to will open the door for you to start searching too.

Elizabeth and Duncan were married for jus’ over 14 years. He became sick from cancer and died this year.

The two were deeply in love and deeply involved in all-things Celtic. That’s why Elizabeth wore a ring, given to her by Duncan as a wedding band, fashioned in the design of a Celtic knot.

The Celtic knot dates back to around 600 AD, and many rune stones and crosses were adorned with the classic design. The roots of the Celtic knot may be Pagan, but as the Celtic people embraced Christianity, the knot was viewed as a symbol of the  Trinity.

On the night Duncan passed away, the left side of Elizabeth’s ring developed a fracture. The crack in the metal wasn’t like that of a ring suffering metal fatigue – it simply split in two.

Elizabeth thought nothing of it at the time as the stress of having jus’ lost her husband was her overwhelming concern. She decided to take it off temporarily and made plans to have it repaired by a jeweler in town.

It wasn’t until three weeks later that the ring made itself known once again. Incidentally, this was also the same day she received Duncan’s ashes from the funeral home.

That night, as she sat looking and the urn, crying because she missed him, she decided to go get the wedding ring he had given her so many years ago and put it on her finger. She hoped it would bring comfort to her broken heart.

She found it where she had left it; however the Celtic knot was now broken in half.

For whatever reason, much of the story of Del Norte’s history seems to start with the death of a white settler named “A. French.” Many times his is the next name found in articles right after explorer Jed Smith.

I’ve never been able to learn what the “A” stood for.

As the story goes, in the morning of November 1, 1854, a farmer named A. French set out on a hunting expedition. With him were four other men — all unidentified in the general record.

French was to guide them to an area about 11 miles east of Crescent City. He planned to return to his ranch that evening while the others planned to return in three or four days.

However, the next day Mrs. French came to town worried her husband had not returned as planned. Two days later, November 4, the other men returned and were reportedly alarmed to learn French had never made it home.

A search party was formed and made an intensive search of the area between Mill Creek and the South Fork of the Smith River, but he wasn’t was found. When the search party returned to Crescent City, they found the citizens in a complete state of anxiety.

Many thought the Indians on the South Fork of the Smith River had murdered French. That same evening, a mass meeting was called which resulted in 20 men being appointed to round-up all the Indians in town and the surrounding area for questioning.

An Indian woman living in a village where Battery Point Lighthouse is now located said she had been on her way to the woods in the area where the French party had traveled. She said a Chetco Indian named Narpa, accompanied by his sister, had traveled to a village at the mouth of the Klamath River near Requa.

This is the first hole in the story — remember they were headed east. Klamath is south of Crescent City.

She told authorities that Narpa, his family and tribe had suffered some sort of injury or insult by the whites and he wanted revenge. At Requa he asked another Indian named Black Mahu to kill a white man.

But Black Mahu refused as he was known to be a good friend to the settlers.

The Chetco Indian then offered Black Mahu his sister if he would kill a white man. Supposedly Black Mahu couldn’t refuse the offer of the woman.

Armed with this information white authorities issued a warrant for the arrest of Black Mahu, his son Jim and Narpa. This leads to a second hole in the story — two Indians suddenly becomes three and no explanation is ever given why the increase in suspects.

A new search party was organized and the body of French was found lying under a log, partly covered up. Records indicate French was found jus’ east of the Elk Valley area.

This is the third hole in the story. Elk Valley, for the geographically unknowing is east of the city.

An eight man group of Klamath Mounted Rangers was formed to catch the suspected murderers and the three Indians were captured at the mouth of the Klamath River. They were taken to Crescent City November 17.

The following day many of the citizens of Crescent City assembled at the Eldorado Saloon on Front Street, where a trial date was set. From there a jury of 12 men was selected.

By law the three defendants could not testify on their own behalf or enter any evidence in their favor. After an hour the jury returned with a verdict of “guilty” and sentenced the three to be hanged at noon November 24.

On that day the three were taken to what is now Battery Point, but at the time an Indian village and hanged. It is believed the village was chosen in order to send a message to other Indians’ that this is what would happen to them if they killed a white man.

Unfortunately, the evidence against the three Indians, if there ever was any, has been lost to time. Moreover, when I was kid, many Yurok elders claimed French died of natural causes and was hidden by a scavenging bear bent on having his remains as a meal at a later time.

Whatever, happened — I’ve always thought the three hanged men got a raw deal.

A U.S. Marine with ties to Nevada has been killed in Afghanistan.  Sgt. Joshua Robinson had lived in The Topaz Ranch Estates, south of Carson City, while stationed The Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center at Pickel Meadow. 

Robinson, who grew up near Nelson, Nebraska, died August 7 while on combat operations in Helmand Province. A spokeswoman with the Department of Defense says he was shot twice in the left side of his chest while on patrol.

Robinson was on his first deployment to Afghanistan but had been deployed to Iraq twice before. He enlisted in the Marines in 2003 and had earned a Purple Heart and Combat Action Ribbon during his service.

Robinson was an infantryman assigned to the 1st Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, which is based at Camp Pendleton, California. He is survived by his wife, Rhonda and their two sons who live in Bennington, Nebraska.