elbow room is at a premium. The northern base camp on Lojwa is a city of open-air, open-bay meta! huts and outdoor showers. On Enewetak, though, most have it better. Living in a multistoried, air-conditioned, concrete dorm, few complain about the four-man rooms... For all, the work is demanding and the hours long—12 or more a day, six days a week. But for the Air Force people who spend six months to a - year on the atoll, it is somehow bearable, if not enjoyable. TSgt. James Parrott, who heads a Military Airlift Command airfield team, finds the work rewarding. ‘We have five people here doing every- thing that a whole aerial port squad‘1 like the work here because | get to work in all of my AFSC instead of just a portion ofit.” its instruments. Unquestionably, safety measures are strict. They have to be. ‘We can't tell the troops that there’s no hazard, because there is that potential," ad- mitted Col. Mixan. But the slight, soft-spoken commander can say with pride that in nearly a year on the atoll, no one has received radiation in excess of allowable limits. And those limits are 10 times more rigid than for individuals working with radioactive materials back in the States. “There has been lot of field work done,” said Army Maj. Chartes Day, the Travis workioad is much heavier. in six months he and his crew moved more than 2,000 workers and visitors and about 900,000 pounds of cargo and mail thisugh “Enewetak international Airport,” as the sign reads atop the palm frond-covered reception area. “| like the work here because I get to work in all of my AFSC instead of just a portion of it,” he said. And he must. TSgt. Parrott recently extended his six-month tour. So did SSgt. Michael P. Lyss. a communications center specialist who stayed on to get credit for a remote tour. He also enjoys working in areas that he wouldn't if he were Stateside, and finds the work more a radiation safety officer with the task group, ‘but so far the troops challenging. But it’s not all work. The tropical waters hold a myriad of unusual fish and rare coral, underwater delights protective measures. are also sailboats, fishing trips, sheil have been exposed to basically zero radiation” because of the stringent But there are still other problems. Under the stifling tropical. sun, the tet seggiage hines Hit Lfusieridie! ron would do at Travis,”’ explained the sergeant, noting, though, that temperatures inside the anticontamination suits can reach 185 degrees. ‘The humidity feels like it's 90 percent most of the time,’ remarked one worker as he stripped out of the suit, rivulets of, perspiration running down his face. ‘‘At first we had guys passing out within 20 minutes,” re- called SMSot. Baird. Now, teams are that have enticed many to pursue snorkeling and scuba diving. There collecting expeditions, sports events, and a number of other recreational opportunities on the atoll. For World War Il buffs, Enewetak is a museum of rusting war relics— lifeless reminders of that time in early 1944 when an American task force sailed into the lagoon, guns ablaze, during Operation Catchpole, part of a strike at the heart of the Japanese-held Marshall! Islands. Just being on Enewetak requires On February 18 of that year the first of more than 8,000 invading soldiers and marines scrambled from landing craft similar to those now the work force on Enewetak Isiand and half on smalter Lojwa Island, of Enjebi. Within a week, the entire atoll was secured, with most of its working up to two hours at a time in the hot sun. “It takes a while, but you get acclimated,” said Maj. Day. some acclimation. !t's a shoulder-toshoulder existence. With about half July 1978 et me ee being used in the cleanup onto the lagoon beach at the northern island 3,400 defenders dead. A weathered, wooden post inscribed in Japanese now stands as a simple memorial to 700 of those dead who are buried nearby on Enewetak Island. ; Corroded aircraft parts—engines, propellers, fjanding gear, wings—an- tiaircraft guns and other treasures litter island shorelines. A few feet off the beach at Medren, a tank, its hatch covers flumg open as if in a gesture of surrender, is slowly being consumed by the reef. On Enjebi, weeds are pushing through cracksin a concrete Japanese runway, and nearby are the rusted remains of some unknownsoldier's helmet. But mostly there is ordnanceofall kinds. “I've never experienced any- thing like this before,” said A1C Wil- liam J. Craig, Jr., an explosive ordnance disposal specialist who is working with the Navy to detonate unexploded World War Il ammunition. ‘I came here for experience and I'm getting plenty of it.” An arsenal clustered for detonation along the Enjebi beach included everything from smail arms to 105mm projectiles, mines, grénades, mortars, and a 250-pound bomb. Most were badly deterioratec, but Craig has discovered some brass fuses that were nearly as bright as the gay they were abandoned more | tham 30 years before. ‘In fact. you could still read the Japanese writing on some of them.” he said. Craig is excited about his job and abourt the project. ‘Sure it’s a worthwhile operation,” he insisted. ‘These peogie want their land back, and they need it.” Justification for the cleanup goes mucin deeper, however—to Ameri- ca's agreement as Trust Territory admtmistering authority to protect the diri Enewetak against loss of their land and resources, and to a commitment to return the atoll when it was ino longer needed. | Time people of Enewetak are glad to be going home. The first group of 50 returned to Japtan Island. on tne atolft’s southern rim, in March 1977. For many—like their 84-year-old leacter, Chief Johannes Peter, it was a bittersweet moment. ‘It is very sad to see what has happened to our islareds.”" the gravel-voiced chief, whase silver hair and holiow cheeks accemiuate his years, told reporters throwgh an interpreter. “But we are horme now and weare happy.” A3jthough anthropologists dis7 yormes