Tales of the Green Hornet
A1C Joe "Nikka Joe" Koester
202, Trick 4
Misawa 62-64
Soon after my arrival at Misawa in 1962, I bought a used motorcycle - a 125cc Honda Dream.
After going over the handlebars a few times and laying it down on the road to the hill,
I decided I might not survive this tour if I kept my two-wheel vehicle.
A Staff Sergeant was rotating and had a car for sale – a 1952 Chevrolet 4-door sedan, a
former Air Force staff car at that. The blue paint had been painted over long ago with
something that looked like medium green house paint. I bought it and named it the "Green Hornet."
We were to have many adventures in the Hornet.
One night we made it half way to Hachinohe, after curfew of course, and ended up in a
bar in the small town of Momoishi. As we got out of the car I noted that the fuel
gauge was below empty, a small oversight.
We saw another GI vehicle in the area,
a '55 Chevy, and one of my companions said "Oh that's SSgt. so-and-so from Wing and
we can get some gas from him." We found the man in a bar (there weren't that many in
this small town) and got his permission to siphon some gas. We had an old ammo can
and a hose in the Hornet. Unsure of the size of the ammo can, we filled it several
times and when I checked, we had over a quarter tank of gas! I hope our donor had enough to get home.
Having learned not to run out of gas, I began to carry a 5-gallon can of
gas in the trunk. One cold winter night we were again heading to Hachinohe
when the guys in the back complained that their feet were really cold and we could all smell gas.
There were four of five of us in the Green Hornet and we were all smoking.
One guy reached down by his feet and came up with a wet hand covered with gasoline!
The windows came down and immediately all the cigarettes went out the window.
We stopped and opened the trunk and found the can had over turned, the lid came
off and it was pouring gas up under the rear seat into the floorboard where it puddled.
I frequented surplus sales and once found a nearly new tire to replace one on the Green Hornet.
It was the same wheel size but was a much bigger tire. However, it was only $2.00 – such a deal.
Problem was, it was so big it would rub the wheel well when you hit a bump or had
passengers in the rear - both of which were frequent occurrences.
Shortly thereafter it actually wore a hole through the wheel well and would throw
all sorts of dust and snow and ice in the trunk. My passengers referred to my new
tire as a "B-52 landing gear" – a slight exaggeration.
One night, John Newport and I were driving somewhere, probably heading for an
out-of-town bar, and the car started making louder-than-usual exhaust noises.
I opened the door to better hear and leaned over a bit to see if the muffler
was hanging down. The next thing I knew I was laying along the road and the
Green Hornet was moving away. Fortunately we weren't going very fast, and I
blamed the door on this incident. Automobile doors have a safety latch that
only allows them to open so far. The Hornet's latch was broken and the door
would open much farther than one expected, so I believed the door yanked me out of the car.
One night after curfew, I was heading back to the Hill - I think it was September -
and it was cold and very windy. I had just passed by the Airman's Club and was
coming up to a "T" in the road. I was supposed to turn left to head up to the
Hill from Main Base, but somehow missed the turn, went straight and hit the curb.
I backed up and made the turn and then saw a red light flashing in the rear view
window – the dreaded Air Police! I opened the door to get out and the wind caught
the door and yanked me out and - bam - I was sitting on the pavement along side the
Hornet when the AP arrived. Not being very smart about this traffic stop at midnight,
I accosted him for stopping me and was told I had a taillight out – the lesser of many
possible charges. He said I could not drive the car any further until I fixed the light.
I said that was stupid, but if I had to park it, he'd have to take me up to the Hill.
He remarked that he wasn't running a taxi service, but finally relented and said,
"If anyone else stops you for the tail light, tell them Archie said it was OK."
That was my last brush with the law!
One dark and cold winter night, SSgt. Alfred Stone and I were heading to the all
night watering holes in Hachinohe. We were not too far out from the city and were
in a rural area surrounded by rice paddies. There was some snow and a fair amount
of ice. We crested a hill and the Hornet spun around one or two times and ended up
pointed back toward Misawa. Stony was quite concerned and claimed I was asleep at
the wheel, and was only awakened by the silence when the roar of the engine stopped.
He further exclaimed that if the car had turned over, his rear end had such a grip on
the seat covers that he would have hung down from the seat.
He never rode with me again, near as I can remember.
In the summer of 1964, they were painting the barracks and we borrowed a bucket of paint -
light beige, pink, or some such color - and painted the four doors with a shaving brush
so the hornet would look like a California Highway Patrol car. Seems to me it looked
pretty bad and I think it mostly washed off after a couple of rains.
I am convinced brains are not wasted on youth!
That was a great old car and I sold it to
Hermes Borja
when I returned to the states for discharge in August 1964. I somehow think there was a
Guardian Angel in that car, certainly not in that filthy trunk though.
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