Anyone who knows me knows that I hate computers. Yes, I know more about them than the average user, but I still hate them. I consider them a fad and can't wait for them to be phased out. In the meantime I thought I'd explain my hatred of the things.
1971 -- My First Contact
My first contact with a computer was in 1971 at Camp Lejeune, N.C. I was on the general's staff in the CEO's office (Communication Electronics Officer) for the Second Marine Division. One of my duties was as the Division Frequency Coordinator. We had over 4,600 frequencies assigned to the division. The man before me controlled them with a 3-ring binder. Each page had the frequencies typed down the left side and each sheet was inside a plastic protector. Permanent assignments were typed in to the right and others, assigned for specific operation and only used for a short time period, had a grease pencil notation to the right.
The old control system, without a computer, worked like this. The Comm Chief of Second Marines, calls me and asks for a range safety frequency for two days. I pull out my logbook, find a VHF freq with no other assignments nearby, and tell him, "Okay, use kilo one seven." That code was an unclassified reference number so that I could talk to someone on the phone and give them a freq. He says okay, and I make a notation in the logbook with my grease pencil. Two days later he calls and says he's done with it so I open the logbook, (HIGH TECH HERE, pay attention and let me know if you can't follow the technical details) I pull out a Kleenex, spit on it, and erase the entry -- I'm done.
One of my first jobs was to automate that procedure and bring it up the level of available technology.
We had big coding sheets about 18" x 14" with 80 columns on them. There were, I think, either 30 or 45 lines to the page. Each line of 80 boxes represented one punch card and each card represented one frequency. For each of the 4,600 or so freqs I had to write a separate card and, if there was no assignment, I'd just put in the code, the freq, and the type. For an assignment I'd put in an abbreviation such as, 2/2 TAC LOG, which meant the tactical logistics net for Second Battalion, Second Marine Regiment. Each morning I'd take ten or fifteen coding sheets to the Data Processing Center. In the afternoon I'd return and pick up my cards and a printout of the data. Note, nothing was actually going into the computer. They were just punching cards, feeding them into a card reader, and getting a printout.
When you got your cards the data that was encoded was printed across the top of the card. Something would occasionally happen to the ribbon and you'd get a card with punched holes but nothing printed and it became important to be able to read the holes. Actually, if you worked with the cards very long you could read the punches quite easily.
The DP center was a long low building about thirty by a hundred feet. In those days (and even into the early 90s) all computer centers were in buildings with ENORMOUS A/C units and raised floors. The purpose of that was that all the cables ran under the floor and, by pulling up a floor tile, you could crawl under the floor to work on the cables. (Something that happened frequently.) You entered the building at one end and there was a counter across the front. On the counter was an in-box. Any work you had you dropped in there and you went away. They didn't want to talk to you.
My problem was that everything I did was classified. All the freqs were CONFIDENTIAL and, when we were preparing for any kind of deployment, the frequency assignments were SECRET. There was no guard anywhere, just the unlocked front door, the in-box, and a bunch of guys behind the counter. At that time, I had just returned from embassy duty and security was in my blood. I always thought about the idea that anyone could walk in, paw through the in-box, and pull out some SECRET material. If he was stopped, all he had to say was something like, "Oh, I made a mistake on this input. I have to make some changes." That always did bother me. (An exception was TOP SECRET. If you had any TS you'd stand there and wave the bright red folder until someone came over and took it from you. Naturally there was a chain of custody on TS and ... I hoped and prayed that the clerks had a TS clearance.)
