Well, then. The other day when I was filling out the Meme that I got an “incomplete” on, I mentioned that I have been an international smuggler in my lifetime. Poolie jumped right on that one and told me I had to dish. It’s quite a sordid story, so you better think twice about reading it if you don’t like sordid!!
When we lived in Iceland we chose to live off base for the entire time we were there. We thought as long as we’re in this foreign country why not take advantage of it and get the full experience. This of course, made for some difficulties, but nothing we couldn’t overcome. The biggest difficulty was buying groceries at the commissary and getting them off base. Because Iceland was such a small country and things were so expensive there, it would have been easy to disrupt the economy by taking cheap groceries off base and selling them to the Icelandics.
Anytime you went on/off base you had to pass through a guard shack with not only Marine guards, but also Icelandic police. The Marines didn’t care what you had in your car; they were just there to keep the Icelandic police in line. The Icelandic police were there to inspect your car and make sure that you weren’t smuggling anything off base that wasn’t supposed to go. There were times when we saw them tearing cars apart, probably out of boredom, or just making a power statement. They loved to use the “intimidation factor.”
Each family that lived off base was allowed so many dollars a week in “take off.” The amount depended on your rate – the higher your rank the more you were allowed, which didn’t make any sense, but that’s the way it was. You could be an E3, have two children to feed, but wouldn’t be allowed as much as an E9 who had no children. So then you’d have to take your squanty little paycheck and go out on the economy to supplement your groceries in an expensive Icelandic grocery store.
Oh well, on to the smuggling.
We made some dear friends there, John and Donna. (We’re still in contact with them and see them at least every couple of years.) Donna was of Italian descent, with a mother who used to make all kinds of homemade Italian sausage and other treats. She regularly sent a care package to her daughter and son-in-law, who were generous people and always shared with their friends because we just couldn’t get that kind of stuff in Iceland, not even in the commissary (that’s the base grocery store for you folks who don’t have a military background.) Well, one day this huge package came to their house from her mother, and she called us to stop over after work and she would send some goodies home with us.
Previously the food items that she had sent were of the smaller variety – like maybe a bunch of sausage links that could be cut apart and placed in strategic coat pockets, purses, etc., in order to get them off base. But this time everything she sent was HUGE. I guess it was just before Christmas or something so she wanted all of us to thoroughly enjoy.
Oh yes, I should also tell you that if you were going to smuggle something out the gate you had to pick your time frames carefully. After going in and out of the gate several times a day for so long you got to know the Icelandic police and which ones were going to give you a thorough investigation, and which ones would just wave you through. Now there was an Icelandic guard by the name of Slouny who had a reputation for being the toughest guard on duty, but he usually worked a daytime schedule when the traffic was heavy, or a late night schedule about the time the clubs closed. So going out the gate between 8 and 9 didn’t usually present a problem.
Now back to the large Italian sausage. This honker had to be about 4 inches in diameter and approximately a foot long. I guess that’s not all that large unless you have to figure out a way to get it through customs when it’s not supposed to go. Now under normal circumstances we would have just shoved it under the seat because the guards on duty at that time would just wave you through.
For some reason I was driving that night and Ole was in the passenger seat as we approached the gate. And much to our astonishment who should be on duty that night, NOT at his usual time – Slouny of course. He was stopping every car, sticking his head WAY into the window and giving the car a good visual search. He even opened the trunks of several of the cars and made several of the passengers get out so he could crawl into the car and feel under the seats.
We were in a line of cars waiting to go through the gate, so to get out of line, turn around and leave would have made things pretty obvious. So – what to do. Ole reached under the seat, grabbed the sausage, unbuckled his dungarees (that’s navy work jeans for you non-military), and shoved the sausage down one trouser leg, buttoned his dungarees back up and buckled his belt so that it kind of held onto the sausage and it wouldn’t slip down his leg.
Well now – we waited in line for our turn, and as we inched towards Slouny, we tried not to look guilty. I approached the guard shack, rolled down my window and Slouny stuck his head in. Then he opened the car door and asked both of us to step out. Ole got out on the passenger side of the car hoping that Slouny wouldn’t come around to that side, but guess what – he did. He asked Ole to step back from the car and proceeded to feel around the floor, under the seats and into the pockets and glove box on the passenger side. I often wonder if he couldn’t smell the Italian sausage. He probably knew it was there and just couldn’t figure out where it was. He walked around the car several times, then looked Ole up and down, stopping his glance momentarily at Ole's mid section, gave Ole a strange “knowing” look, winked at him, grinned a bit and told us to go on our way. We’ll never know for sure but maybe he spotted the bulge in Ole’s pants and thought Ole had “other” things on his mind at that time.
One Friday night a bunch of us had gotten together out at our house for an impromptu party. We were all kind of broke, and couldn’t afford to go to the Icelandic liquor store and buy their expensive beer. At that time they had beer vending machines in the barracks so we went on base, put quarters in the vending machines and stuffed our jackets up the sleeves, in the pockets, etc., with cans of beer. There were five of us stuffed into a Volkswagen beatle, and we clanked when we moved, but we were successful in getting the beer home and had lots of fun following.
One night Slouny got his though. Chief Turner was leaving base late at night, headed for home, and Slouny thought for sure he was going to catch someone who was drinking and driving. This is a very BIG no-no in Iceland. ABSOLUTELY NO consumption of any kind or you lose your license and get tossed in jail. Well, Chief Turner didn’t drink at all – ever. And Slouny had this habit of sticking his head into your window, right in your face, very close to your mouth, then asking a question so he could smell your breath. He did this to Chief Turner, and Chief Turner gave him a big smack right on the mouth. One of those with “suction” – I guess Slouny changed his tactics after that!!
I really shouldn’t make light of this because it truly was a serious matter. One friend of ours got taken in for smuggling because he had a package of gum laying on his dash that was not listed on his take off. Again, the guard was Slouny. Our friend was written up for international smuggling, fined and now has a record. It doesn’t say WHAT he was smuggling, it just says “international smuggling.” There were various other incidents too, nothing ever really serious – no drugs or that kind of stuff. But our friend who had the gum on his dash says he still has problems when he comes back to the United States after a Mexican vacation. He’s ALWAYS thoroughly searched along with his luggage so he knows it’s still on his record.
Now for a little tour of the NATO base, which, much to our dismay, closed several years ago. We always planned to go back and see it again, but I guess we’ll just have to tour Iceland again without the Base.
When we lived in Iceland we chose to live off base for the entire time we were there. We thought as long as we’re in this foreign country why not take advantage of it and get the full experience. This of course, made for some difficulties, but nothing we couldn’t overcome. The biggest difficulty was buying groceries at the commissary and getting them off base. Because Iceland was such a small country and things were so expensive there, it would have been easy to disrupt the economy by taking cheap groceries off base and selling them to the Icelandics.
Anytime you went on/off base you had to pass through a guard shack with not only Marine guards, but also Icelandic police. The Marines didn’t care what you had in your car; they were just there to keep the Icelandic police in line. The Icelandic police were there to inspect your car and make sure that you weren’t smuggling anything off base that wasn’t supposed to go. There were times when we saw them tearing cars apart, probably out of boredom, or just making a power statement. They loved to use the “intimidation factor.”
Each family that lived off base was allowed so many dollars a week in “take off.” The amount depended on your rate – the higher your rank the more you were allowed, which didn’t make any sense, but that’s the way it was. You could be an E3, have two children to feed, but wouldn’t be allowed as much as an E9 who had no children. So then you’d have to take your squanty little paycheck and go out on the economy to supplement your groceries in an expensive Icelandic grocery store.
Oh well, on to the smuggling.
We made some dear friends there, John and Donna. (We’re still in contact with them and see them at least every couple of years.) Donna was of Italian descent, with a mother who used to make all kinds of homemade Italian sausage and other treats. She regularly sent a care package to her daughter and son-in-law, who were generous people and always shared with their friends because we just couldn’t get that kind of stuff in Iceland, not even in the commissary (that’s the base grocery store for you folks who don’t have a military background.) Well, one day this huge package came to their house from her mother, and she called us to stop over after work and she would send some goodies home with us.
Previously the food items that she had sent were of the smaller variety – like maybe a bunch of sausage links that could be cut apart and placed in strategic coat pockets, purses, etc., in order to get them off base. But this time everything she sent was HUGE. I guess it was just before Christmas or something so she wanted all of us to thoroughly enjoy.
Oh yes, I should also tell you that if you were going to smuggle something out the gate you had to pick your time frames carefully. After going in and out of the gate several times a day for so long you got to know the Icelandic police and which ones were going to give you a thorough investigation, and which ones would just wave you through. Now there was an Icelandic guard by the name of Slouny who had a reputation for being the toughest guard on duty, but he usually worked a daytime schedule when the traffic was heavy, or a late night schedule about the time the clubs closed. So going out the gate between 8 and 9 didn’t usually present a problem.
Now back to the large Italian sausage. This honker had to be about 4 inches in diameter and approximately a foot long. I guess that’s not all that large unless you have to figure out a way to get it through customs when it’s not supposed to go. Now under normal circumstances we would have just shoved it under the seat because the guards on duty at that time would just wave you through.
For some reason I was driving that night and Ole was in the passenger seat as we approached the gate. And much to our astonishment who should be on duty that night, NOT at his usual time – Slouny of course. He was stopping every car, sticking his head WAY into the window and giving the car a good visual search. He even opened the trunks of several of the cars and made several of the passengers get out so he could crawl into the car and feel under the seats.
We were in a line of cars waiting to go through the gate, so to get out of line, turn around and leave would have made things pretty obvious. So – what to do. Ole reached under the seat, grabbed the sausage, unbuckled his dungarees (that’s navy work jeans for you non-military), and shoved the sausage down one trouser leg, buttoned his dungarees back up and buckled his belt so that it kind of held onto the sausage and it wouldn’t slip down his leg.
Well now – we waited in line for our turn, and as we inched towards Slouny, we tried not to look guilty. I approached the guard shack, rolled down my window and Slouny stuck his head in. Then he opened the car door and asked both of us to step out. Ole got out on the passenger side of the car hoping that Slouny wouldn’t come around to that side, but guess what – he did. He asked Ole to step back from the car and proceeded to feel around the floor, under the seats and into the pockets and glove box on the passenger side. I often wonder if he couldn’t smell the Italian sausage. He probably knew it was there and just couldn’t figure out where it was. He walked around the car several times, then looked Ole up and down, stopping his glance momentarily at Ole's mid section, gave Ole a strange “knowing” look, winked at him, grinned a bit and told us to go on our way. We’ll never know for sure but maybe he spotted the bulge in Ole’s pants and thought Ole had “other” things on his mind at that time.
One Friday night a bunch of us had gotten together out at our house for an impromptu party. We were all kind of broke, and couldn’t afford to go to the Icelandic liquor store and buy their expensive beer. At that time they had beer vending machines in the barracks so we went on base, put quarters in the vending machines and stuffed our jackets up the sleeves, in the pockets, etc., with cans of beer. There were five of us stuffed into a Volkswagen beatle, and we clanked when we moved, but we were successful in getting the beer home and had lots of fun following.
One night Slouny got his though. Chief Turner was leaving base late at night, headed for home, and Slouny thought for sure he was going to catch someone who was drinking and driving. This is a very BIG no-no in Iceland. ABSOLUTELY NO consumption of any kind or you lose your license and get tossed in jail. Well, Chief Turner didn’t drink at all – ever. And Slouny had this habit of sticking his head into your window, right in your face, very close to your mouth, then asking a question so he could smell your breath. He did this to Chief Turner, and Chief Turner gave him a big smack right on the mouth. One of those with “suction” – I guess Slouny changed his tactics after that!!
I really shouldn’t make light of this because it truly was a serious matter. One friend of ours got taken in for smuggling because he had a package of gum laying on his dash that was not listed on his take off. Again, the guard was Slouny. Our friend was written up for international smuggling, fined and now has a record. It doesn’t say WHAT he was smuggling, it just says “international smuggling.” There were various other incidents too, nothing ever really serious – no drugs or that kind of stuff. But our friend who had the gum on his dash says he still has problems when he comes back to the United States after a Mexican vacation. He’s ALWAYS thoroughly searched along with his luggage so he knows it’s still on his record.
Now for a little tour of the NATO base, which, much to our dismay, closed several years ago. We always planned to go back and see it again, but I guess we’ll just have to tour Iceland again without the Base.
Approaching the guard shack
The marine is standing in the door, Slouny is at the desk.
Leaving the base headed toward the town of Keflavik.
NAVCOMSTA - the building that Ole worked in.
The Supply Department where I worked.
This was the commissary (grocery store)
The gas station - gas was 22 cents a gallon
One of the streets on base. I believe these pictures were taken in January when we had about three hours of daylight. Note the lack of snow and the sloppy, muddy conditions. It's NOT cold there, like Minnesota.
That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.
6 comments:
fun stuff here!! poor slouny!! seems like everywhere you go, theres always one who stands out!!
You are just like James Bond! I am speechless! And to think I have eaten your lefse!
An international smuggler!! Wow, what an exciting life you lead!! LOL
I especially loved the part where Ole smuggled the sausage in his pants.
Wow...that beats Poolie's story of eating crotched gummy bears. Interesting story. I heard that people in Iceland don't have last names and that they are the best looking people on the planet.
Wow! Love the pictures. That is so funny Ole smuggling Italian sausage. :) Those sailors always have big sausages. :)
Nice pictures! I worked in Supply too!
That brings back memories. I was stationed in Iceland in 1974-1976 at the Naval Communications Station. It was nice to see your picture of it (maybe the only one posted on the internet anywhere).
We also had some adventures getting through the gate when we lived out in Keflavik. Also, our landlady wanted to be paid only in cash and, when she was being investigated, she asked us to lie about how much we were paying. Fortunately, the authorities never asked us.
I remember we had ration cards that only allowed us to buy five quarts of hard liquor a month. Then they cut it down to three. Luckily we could buy as much beer as we wanted. hahahahaha!
Anyway, it was nice seeing the pictures and reading your story about the smuggling.
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