Laon Air Force Base, France Memories Part I

I hear there are about 5,000 of us whom are the survivors of the NATO educational gulag system at the Laon Air Force Base. Laon was a base in northern France, near the Belgian border. In this forsaken place, important tasks were performed to protect Western Europe and Northern Africa from the threat of non recognized forms of government. However, for the youth, it was prison time, 12x5 every week, within the gulag.

My family was there 1965 to 1967, when the base was closed. Seems the American Ambassador to France had a son whom at the ripe age of 14: stole a car and managed to run over some old lady. Naturally, the French were angered over this as the kid had immunity and could not be charged, much less expelled. De Gaulle, less than happy, ordered all NATO troops off of French soil by July 1967. Not to be out done, the Ambassador commented he could get NATO out by April. De Gaulle, recognized the affront and changed the date to April.

 
My first year in the gulag system was pretty miserable, especially with the school being next to my father's office which was definitely not cool. On the other hand, he could come over and check me out from detention easier. The worse part of the year was my English teacher. "Oh, CHRISTopher, CHRISTopher, it must be wonderful having the name of Christ in your name....." Ok, I only got called by my full name when I was in major trouble and as far as I knew my family could have been Thor worshippers. And as for spelling, I still don't use most the words she made us memorize!

Or, the horrible French class, where to this day I wonder what the heck Robert the red-head had been up to! As we proved, you can't talk to someone in a foreign language without interpretation - and still expect anyone to learn the language, duh!

Or, Elizabeth Mahoney - best looking teacher any young male could have. We honestly used to police ourselves just so that she would not get angry with us (what a temper!), but what a beauty....

The highlight of that first year was organizing a huge snowball fight with the teachers while they were on parade. We slaughtered them and Kris was in detention yet again. Free thinkers were not welcome within the gulag.

The second year was easier because there wasn't much of a base left. Most of the families had been transferred to "Upper X" in England. The only people whom seemed did not know this was Upper Hayford was apparently the military types. No one was allowed to even whisper "Hayford" in public without the MP's jumping you. Loose lips sink ships you know.....yawn.....

We took a tremendous amount of field trips the second year and I did get to meet Picasso for an afternoon.  Yah, art class had its rewards – if only the teacher had been an artist herself (might have made the class a little easier…..)

So, everyone except for my family went to England, we were moved to Germany. There were no yearbooks back then so I have only vague memories of Daphne (Summers?) (the only female to talk to me rather than hit me over the head with her purse!), Michael Wormsby (the school bully I am not likely to ever forget (grrrrr!)), Joey Foster (the most tragic child I have ever known), the Fischer family (of Couvron) and Dusty Shannon (best soccer player we ever had!). Everyone else has faded.

Holler if you were there, especially if you have any pictures!