Site 04 was the highest Nike-Hercules missile site in the Continental United States. It sat at the top of Mt. Gleason halfway between Pasadena and Palmdale, CA. I was stationed there as a radar technician for an unforgettable 19 months as part of the North American Air Defense Command (NORAD).
One of my best friends on the site was a poker-playing Arizonian named Eddie Trussell. Eddie not only played poker, he played blackjack in the day room, shot dice, and drank beer. We nicknamed him Wild Eddie because he was totally unpredictable.
When we weren't carrying out our duties for Uncle Sam, Eddie and I talked about what we planned to do once we got our honorable discharge from the Army.
We were sitting in a tree-shaded area behind the Day Room drinking beer. Eddie finished his can of Coors, popped open another can, and said, 'I'm going to be a cop.' He took a long sip of beer.
''You're going to have to give that up,' I said, pointing to the beer. 'Cops arrest people for drinking, especially if they catch them driving after they've been drinking.'
He shrugged. 'Cops have their own favorite bars,' he said, taking another sip. 'I'm going to work my way up through the ranks and become a detective. What are your plans?'
'I'm going to Phoenix and I'm going to work for a newspaper.'
'Cool. Maybe you'll be able to write some stories about me.' We gave each other a high five.
There was about 100 GIs on the missile site operating the radar units and the integrated fire control system. We kept the missiles clean, made sure they were operational and went through daily drills to make sure we knew our jobs.
At nights and on weekends, we took the pass-run to Pasadena. The night lights of Hollywood and the Sunset Strip were just a short distance away for girl-hungry soldiers. There were plenty of nightclubs and singles bars with available single women, and Eddie and I managed to hit most of them.
Although the Army kept an extra room available with extra bunks for the soldiers from the missile sites, if you didn't reserve one early you could end up out of luck. Then you would either have to curl up on the floor or book yourself a room at a motel in Hollywood or Pasadena.
Eddie received his discharge about two months before I was scheduled to be released from the service. We threw a going away party for him at the Green Lantern, a G.I.-friendly bar in Palmdale. That night Eddie set a record for the number of beers he put away.
He was all packed and ready to take a midnight Greyhound Bus out of Palmdale for the five-hour ride to Phoenix. I gave him a hug.
'The next time you see me, I will be a civilian and you will have to address me as Detective,' said Eddie, slurring the words.
'Right-o, Detective-o,' I said, saluting him. He threw a playful punch at me, missed, and giggled.
Eddie Trussell joined the Phoenix Police Department. He rose through the ranks and became a detective captain. He kept playing poker and dice in the casinos in Arizona and Nevada.
I joined two newspapers in Phoenix and worked there as a reporter for many years. On several occasions, Trussell and I got together for a drink at the Playboy Club or one of the other popular lounges like Durant's or the Pink Pony in Scottsdale.
Eddie was a good detective and rose quickly through the ranks. I followed his career as a cop and was proud of our friendship. He was one of the good guys and he never dishonored his badge.
One night he followed me to the parking lot. I invited him to join me in my car for a final beer before heading home. Eddie was shocked.
'I can't do that anymore,' he said. 'I'm a cop. In fact, if you'd do that in my presence, I'm supposed to arrest you.'
I glared at him. 'Would you do that, Eddie? Your best friend on the missile site?'
He smiled.' I said I'm supposed to arrest you. No, Buddy. Friendship prevails. Have a great night.'
He saluted me and headed off into the Phoenix night, whistling.
Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.
(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).
