In the spring of 1957, after being discharged from active duty in the Army, I took a job as a rodman for the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS).
As a rodman, it was my job to assist a field engineer in checking the accuracy of topographical maps by going to the map site and physically verifying the elevations of various locations as previously determined from aerial photography. We also verified the locations of section corners, buildings, well sites, fence lines, railroad lines, transmission lines, et cetera.
All of this was accomplished through the use of a plane table and alidade. Before proceeding, a short description of how topographical maps were made is probably in order, at least in the day I was working for the USGS.
I am sure everyone has seen white plastic crosses along various highways and roads throughout their travels. These crosses consist of two white strips of plastic about a foot wide and 6 feet long perpendicular to each other. Their location is precisely located and their elevation established from a previously known elevation that had been accurately set. Once these crosses have been set over a determined area, aerial photographs are taken. Then these photos are placed side by side and, through the use of photogrammetry, can be viewed in three dimensions.
The alidade is an instrument similar to an engineer’s transit, which is mounted on a flat blade about 3 inches wide and about a foot long. With the alidade set on the plane table over the map, and the map oriented correctly with respect to north, the alidade is to be sighted toward various items on the ground to verify that item’s location on the map.
Inside the telescope of the alidade are three lines, a vertical hairline and three horizontal hairlines. With the telescope perfectly level, a rod graduated in feet and tenths of feet is sighted with the center horizontal crosshair in the telescope.
With the rod placed on a previously established elevation point, such as a USGS brass cap, a reading on the rod is taken with the center horizontal crosshair.
If the reading is 8.4 feet and the known elevation of the brass cap is 100.0 feet, then the height of the center crosshair is 108.4 feet. This number is referred to as the HI, or height of the instrument.
Now that the height of the instrument is established, the rod can be moved to various locations and new sightings can be taken. Of course, the HI cannot be changed between sightings. Thus, if the rod is placed at a small rise of the ground and a sighting is taken with a reading on the rod of 3.2 feet, and this reading is subtracted from the HI of 108.4 feet, then the elevation of the ground is 105.2 feet.
The map, printed on Mylar with a yellow background and the contours and items listed above printed in red, is placed on the plane table and taken out in the field for verification of various items, such as elevations, contours, location of houses, bridges, wells, et cetera.
While working on the Golden Quadrangle one day, Jack, the current engineer I was working with, sent me out into a large field to locate and take an elevation shot.
The field was located on the south side of highway 93 between Golden and Boulder near the old Rocky Flats Plant where nuclear bomb parts were made.
I had just located the section corner when out of nowhere an old rancher drove up in his fancy Cadillac. He was not very friendly and told me to get off of his property before I could explain what I was doing there.
“And if you don’t”, he said, “Ole Betsy here will take charge” as he patted a Winchester 30-30 leaning against the front passenger seat.
I immediately took his advice, hopped a barbed wire fence, and returned to Jack, who had set up along the highway and asked what the problem was. Of course, I told him that guy threatened to shoot me if I didn’t get off his property.
So, we waited a few minutes to be sure the old rancher had left and was out of sight and then I quickly hopped the fence again, ran out to the section corner, and Jack got his shot.
The next day we headed up to the top of South Table Mountain just outside Golden. As we drove to the top, I noticed a quarry to my right and thought nothing of it. Once we reached top, Jack drove about a hundred yards from the rim of the quarry to set up the plane table and alidade.
While Jack was setting up, he asked me to walk over to the edge of the quarry where a small triangular section of the rim of the quarry protruded out about 15 or 20 feet from the rim. I walked to the very point of the section and stood about 3 feet from the edge, which I felt was close enough for a contour shot. As I stood there waiting for Jack to take a reading, I could look down into a very large hole.
Right after Jack got his shot and waved me off, a pickup truck appeared out of nowhere.
A man dressed as a construction worker — hardhat, flannel shirt, jeans and worn leather boots — jumped out of the truck and yelled, “Get in this truck, now.”
Of course, I had no clue as to what was going on, but perhaps my recent military training (being yelled at) kicked in, so I threw the rod in the back of the pickup and hopped into the passenger seat. As we were driving toward Jack, the guy picked up a microphone from the dashboard and said, “All clear, fire away.” The next thing I knew I heard this tremendous explosion behind us and rocks and dirt starting falling around us, and when I looked back all I could see was a large cloud of dust.
That protrusion I was standing on was gone — I mean completely gone.
As the driver dropped me off where Jack was standing all he said was: “Kid, you came within five seconds of being blown to hell; if I hadn’t taken one last look at the point before telling my powder monkey to push the plunger, you wouldn’t be here now.”
With that, I grabbed the rod and he jumped back in his truck and drove away. And all Jack had to say was, “That sure messes up my contour map.”
As I look back on the event today, I’m very thankful that that gentleman was the cautious type. I suppose I could have argued with him because I had no idea who he was or what his intentions were.
Certainly, the anxiety in his voice was a subconscious warning in my mind that I should probably do what he says. Obviously, I had no medical reason or religious beliefs not to obey this man, especially because there must have been some unseen or unknown danger of which I was not aware.
It makes me wonder why some people today feel that getting a COVID or flu shot, or, for that matter, any kind of a shot, flies in their best interest? We may not know the reason or have the knowledge behind the request, but we must accept the request (or order in the military, do it or else), relying on the fact that it is probably for our own good. (As one old World War II Army sergeant remarked in basic training: “If we say duck, don’t stand there like a dummy and ask why; you had better duck, or you might end up dead.”) Of course, a valid medical reason would preclude getting a shot, but I am not sure about a religious reason.
Unfortunately, there have been a few people who chose not to get a COVID shot, and, of course, some of these people are no longer with us. I suppose, if it were possible, these people would be lying in their graves thinking to themselves, “Damn, I should have gotten that shot.”
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