By Michael Frank

I arrived at Kamiseya, my first duty station after completing ‘R’ Branch schooling, in January 1964. Twenty months later, while our section was on watch, fire destroyed the tunnel. The following is my recollection of the events that took place inside the tunnel that night.

We were on duty for 3-4 hours when we began to smell the smoke. At first, we did not take the smoke seriously. As the smoke grew heavier, some men were asked to remain at their positions until coverage could be arranged elsewhere. Those men whose positions were already covered were told to evacuate.

We who remained at our positions did so voluntarily. No one panicked. Some of us even donned gas masks thinking, mistakenly, that they would help us breathe. When the power went off, and we could no longer work, we formed human chains and headed for the exit, which was also the entrance to the tunnel.

If I recall correctly, I was at the head of one chain and Bill Briley, who stood watch for Gary King that night, and had been seated beside me, was next in line. I have no idea who was behind Bill or how many others were in our queue. The hallway was filled with debris and objects that should not have been there. I do not recall any flames. The hallway was so dark and smoky that we could not see a damn thing!

Eventually I saw a faint light and walked toward it. I tripped before reaching the source of the light, falling over what felt like a fire hose. (My nightmare, ever since, is that I tripped over someone’s legs but did nothing to help him.) The fall separated me from others in my chain. I managed to regain my footing, reach the source of the light and exit the building safely. Once outside, I noticed that Bill was not there.

I reentered the building hoping to find Bill. Instead, I found Floyd Parks trapped behind some kind of door or wall. Although we could communicate we were unable to figure out how to free him. I was overcome by smoke, while trying to help Floyd, and passed out, swallowing my tongue in the process. The next thing I remember is waiting to be transported to the hospital at Camp Zama.

In a posting to the Classmates website, Floyd credits his rescue to ‘Boats Bodine’ and to Charlie Morris, our section leader. According to Floyd, ‘Boats’ used an axe to chop through a door so he and others could get to us.

Based on Floyd’s posting, what others have told me and my own memories, I owe my life to ‘Boats’, Charlie, Paul Rodrigues, Al Finken, an unknown sailor, the ambulance crew and medical personnel at Camp Zama Hospital: Paul parked his motorcycle inside the tunnel and left the headlight burning. The light cast by Paul’s motorcycle’s headlight guided my exit from the tunnel; Al found and rescued me while searching for Richard McKown, his best friend, who died in the fire; the unknown sailor retrieved my tongue, cleared the obstructions from my mouth and throat and restored my ability to breath.

Source: US NCVA Special Publication, Kamiseya 40th Anniversary Fire Memorial