A few examples of articles taken at random from previous issues
to illustrate the kind of material that was in the magazine.
Why not save them now, and enjoy reading them off-line later!
From 1989 to 2001, a number of articles on the Key WT 8 Amp appeared in Morsum Magnificat (knownas "MM" to its readers). Three of the articles are reproduced here as originally published, and the worldwide survey reports from MM28, MM37, and MM50, updated and with additional material, are now brought together into one document.
The articles published were:
The Ubiquitous Key WT 8 Amp, by Jim Lycett, MM22, Spring 1992.
Key WT 8 Amp, Worldwide Survey Results, by Tony Smith, MM28, June 1993.
Key WT 8 Amp, Further Information, by Tony Smith, MM37, Christmas 1994.
Key WT 8 Amp, Final Instalment, by Tony Smith, MM50, February 1997.
Keys for the Wireless Set No.19 (Canada & USA), by Chris Bisaillion, MM45, April 1996.
Key WT 8 Amp No2 – Specification, by Tony Smith, MM77, September/October 2001.
Well over 100 variations of the Key WT 8 Amp, made in six countries, were reported in the survey and it
is hoped that the information from all these articles, now presented as a single package, will help
collectors and users identify their keys and provide useful and interesting information about them.
Sadly, MM is no longer available. Originally published in Dutch, the first English language issue was
dated Autumn 1986 and the final issue, No. 89, was dated March 2004. It is still missed by many Morse
enthusiasts around the world who were contributors to, as well as readers of, this unique magazine.
Tony Smith, G4FAI
The full set of articles can be downloaded here. It is in PDF format and you will require Adobe Reader to view them. If you do not already have this software installed click here to obtain it. It is available free of charge.
Click here to download the full set of articles - 16 Mbytes
By Dr Gary Bold ZL1AN
(From Morsum Magnificat Nr.41, August 1995)
Meet The Morseman
The IARU's recent document "The Morse Code and Amateur Radio
- A Summary from the work of the IARU CW Ad Hoc Committee"(summarised in MM38) commented that some national societies have
a regular column in their monthly journals devoted toMorse
operating and that "These are known to be very popular and
are widely read."
One of these is Gary Bold's superb "The Morseman"
column in 'Break-In', journal of New Zealand's national radio
society NZART, and MM often prints extracts (features in their
own right) from that column. On this occasion we are printing a
selection of shorter items which have appeared in recent years to
give MM readers a taste of what it is like to read an entire
"Morseman" column.
If you are a radio amateur, why not help raise the profile of
amateur Morse round the world by suggesting to your own national
society that its monthly journal should have a regular Morse
column like "The Morseman" - as recommended by the IARU
CW Ad Hoc Committee!
Morse Therapy
Many times, over the years, I've finished writing a lecture late
at night. The house is asleep, but my mind is wide awake. I know
that if I go to bed now, I'll just lie awake and the ideas I have
to propound in the morning will rush madly about, echoing and
muttering in my brain. My solution has always been to fire up the
TS-520, limber up the Brown Brothers paddle, put on the cans and
exchange CW for a while with someone on 20 metres. After a while
the Morse begins to decode itself automatically, and little ASCII
strings march quietly and effortlessly through my head.
My pulse-rate slows, and the network theorems and Fourier
transforms of my professional life go away. I have almost become
one with the radio, a bionic post-processor tacked on the end of
the audio chain.
CW is the purest form of communication I know, a 'mind-to-mind'
linkage. The words appear right inside my head, words that were
never spoken; uncorrupted by accents, verbal peculiarities,
oddities of vocal intonation.
They leave no room for other thoughts. Almost like a form of
meditation. Very therapeutic. After thirty minutes of that, my
metabolism has been slowed right down and I'm relaxed. I can go
to bed and sleep comes.
All of us who have been hams for a long time go through phases.
That's one of the nice things about our hobby, there are so many
outlets for our nuttiness. I've been an antenna nut, a Dx hunter,
a transmatch experimenter, a keyer builder, a phasing SSB
enthusiast, a CW keyboard freak.
All these phases have passed, but my first love is still CW. Its
the mode I go back to whenever I need to wind down and recharge
the batteries. There's something about the essential simplicity
and purity of Morse that, for me, all the other modes lack.
Send Morse To Your Dog
A Northland farmer and engineer, Darcy Gilberd, who travelled
away a lot and had other people moving his stock solved the
problem of multiple dog control by training his dogs to obey
Morse code signals blown on a referee's whistle.
'T' was to call attention, 'I' to bark or 'speak up', 'K' for
'steady', or when repeated, to sit. 'M' meant 'go away', and 'N'
'come in behind'.
(From New Zealand National Geographic, October-December 1991).
Send Your Call!
The other night I came across a nice juicy CQ on 20m and sat back
waiting for the callsign. But 'CQ CQ CQ' went on and on, and
after 15 seconds I lost patience and went away.
Its surprising how any stations do this. A venerable sage, years
ago, counselled me: 'Always send a 3 by 3 CQ. The other guy KNOWS
you're calling CQ - it's YOUR CALL he wants to hear'. Does anyone
else get exasperated by this?
Operating in the USA
(Written during a visit to the USA - 1)
I'm now operating on HF. As I found in Australia, hams everywhere
are incredibly generous! Jesse, W8MCP, lent me his spare rig, a
SWAN 100MXA, circa 1978, together with matching power supply and
transmatch. I have a very small backyard filled with large trees,
the airspace crisscrossed with power, phone, cable TV wires. A
proper antenna system or beam is out of the question, so I've
just run an end-fed random wire out of the upper storey bedroom
window.
This gets me all over the USA on 40 and 80 metres CW. But the
SWAN is really designed for SSB, and has no CW filter. With the
level of CW activity common in the USA, that means that it's
unusual to find only one signal in the passband, and often there
are 4 or more! I've been thinking about lashing up a passive
audio filter, but haven't got around to it.
For any lover of CW, operating 40 metres in the USA is pure
delight! It's 2145 local time, and I'm writing this column on the
MITAC notebook computer alongside the SWAN, listening with one
ear. I've just tuned over the 40 metre band, and in the bottom 25
kHz there are 15 CW conversations going on, at speeds ranging
from 6 to 45 wpm. There is no commercial interference, and no
QRN! This is armchair operating. If I just sit on one frequency,
sooner or later a nice CQ comes along which I can answer.
Everybody wants to come back to a callsign like ZL1AN/W8,
although sometimes it takes a couple of tries to get it
correctly. Working "local DX" is a novelty!
The CFO Lives!
(From the USA - 2)
About a decade ago, I became a member of the CFO, which started
out as a loosely-knit bunch of US keyboard enthusiasts. The entry
requirements were, roughly, a deep love of CW, and a habit of
participating in extended ragchews at 40 wpm plus. You had to be
nominated by a couple of members who deemed you worthy.
The sunspots came and went, and I got busier. I lost contact with
the CFO. Unofficial word came that they were extinct. Great was
my surprise when Jesse told me that not only did they yet live,
but he was a member! Immediately, he drew me to the Ten-Tec, spun
up the CFO frequency of 7033 kHz, and behold! There we were in
QSO with two others!
Next day, with the SWAN, I joined the local CFO SSB net on 80,
and met Kirby, WS9D, the net controller. After welcoming me, he
asked "Gary, can you operate SSB as well?" After a
short pause, somebody said "He's talking to you on
SSB!" "Ah" said Kirby, "So he is!"
Moral: Morse is so much second nature to some people that they
have to think carefully about what mode they're transmitting on.
What does CFO stand for? "Chicken Fat Operators". CFO's
cluck in Morse at the end of a QSO. They meet for
"Cluck-ins" at Hamfests and Conventions. They have
mysterious, yet simple acoustical-mechanical devices for
producing audible chicken clucks, invented by Kirby. They send
lots and lots of beautiful CW to each other. Look for them around
7033 kHz during the hours of US darkness, and in the weekends.
Sinister Symbols from the Past.
(From the USA - 3)
About a year ago, somebody (my files are 8500 miles away) asked
me about two legendary symbols of US Ham Radio, the Wouff Hong
and the Rettysnitch.
I queried David Sumner, K1ZZ, the ARRL Executive Vice President,
about these objects. David kindly sent me some background
material, from which I extracted the following. In 1917, stories
by an anonymous writer with the pseudonym "The Old
Man", or "T.O.M." began to appear in QST. Called
the "Rotten Radio" series, they pitilessly assailed and
exposed the poor operating practices of the day in satire and
humour.
In one of these stories, "Rotten QRM", T.O.M.
castigated the gibberish he'd overheard in one particular QSO,
citing as an example the words "Wouff Hong", which,
apparently, was a thing being used by somebody on somebody else.
Although T.O.M. admitted at the time that he didn't know what a
Wouff Hong was, he subsequently adopted it as a disciplinary
object with which to both flail bad operating practices and
scourge the perpetrators. It is said that in the following era he
proposed its use as an instrument of torture and discipline, to
maintain decency and order in Hamdom.
World War I came and went. In early 1919, T.O.M. contributed an
article to QST called "Rotten Starting", assailing the
tardiness of the US Government in allowing Hams to operate again.
It finished with "I am sending you a specimen of a real live
Wouff Hong which came to light when we started to get our junk
out of cold storage. Keep it in the editorial sanctum where you
can lay your hands on it quickly in an emergency. We will soon be
allowed to transmit, and then you will need it."
Accompanying this was a weird, mis-shapen, wooden, wire-bound
two-pronged tuning fork-like object. The Wouff Hong. There's one
displayed in ARRL Headquarters to this day.
After his death, it was revealed that T.O.M. had been Hiram Percy
Maxim, the first President of the ARRL. It is said that he took
the secret of the origin of the first Wouff Hong to his grave.
But I have also heard it rumoured darkly that some still alive
know what it really was.
One day, I will make a pilgrimage to Connecticut and view it for
myself.
A photograph of a prominent ZL Ham reverently handling a Wouff
Hong actually appeared some time ago in Break-In. Again, my back
copies are far away - I'll tell you which one when I get back to
Godzone country.
An even more sinister disciplinary device was the Rettysnitch.
David passed me no information on it save a photo, bearing the
un-nerving legend "A formidable substitute when the Wouff
Hong was engaged elsewhere". The Rettysnitch appears like a
poker having a zig-zag, sharpened tip. The handle is curiously
worked, perhaps brass-bound, and a strange round protuberance
adorns the shaft.
Even resting quietly on a bench, it radiates an air of ruthless
savagery. Unhappy, indeed, the Ham condemned to be disciplined by
such an object.
Audio or IF Filters?
(From the USA - 4)
I was asked recently "why is it considered better to have a
built-in, IF CW filter, rather than simply tacking an audio
filter between the receiver and the 'phones? Surely they just
achieve the same result?"
Well, they may not do QUITE the same thing IN PRACTICE. The SWAN
rig I've borrowed from Jesse, W8MCP, has no built-in filter, so
I've also borrowed an excellent MFJ audio filter from him. The
problem arises when there's a very strong signal close by the
weak one you're trying to copy. Even though the beat-note from
the strong signal can't be heard in the filtered audio, it DID
come through to the product detector, and may cause
"blocking" - a decrease in sensitivity whenever it's
present.
It helps (as always when receiving CW) to turn the AGC OFF, and
back off the RF gain control until the desired signal is just
causing the S meter to rise slightly. Even this may not get rid
of rather disconcerting staccato level variations on it.
An IF filter, on the other hand, blocks out the strong adjacent
signal BEFORE it gets to the detector, and usually gets around
this problem. I say "usually", because many CW filters
are not narrow enough for my taste when the bands are crowded.
I prefer filters which are 100 Hz or less wide when the going
gets tough. These are more difficult to implement at IF
frequencies, since, for the same absolute bandwidth, the Q has to
be higher. Back in ZL, I've found that a supplementary audio
filter on the TS520S is useful - even though I do have the
built-in 500 Hz IF filter as well.
Another tip. When QRN is high - particularly when static occurs
in loud bursts - narrowing the filter down doesn't help as much
as you might think. This is because the burst static causes the
filter to ring more, giving a continuous "hollow"
background tone in the passband.
Where Did They Come From?
The end-of-message signal, AR comes from the American Morse
letters FN, meaning 'finish'. SK, from the American Morse 30,
meaning half-past the hour, the end of an operator's shift. ES,
for 'and' from the American Morse symbol for '&', used
extensively in written English in earlier times. And when
old-timers send a long dash for 'zero, they are actually sending
the correct American Morse symbol. History casts a long shadow.
Another Learning Method
What if you don't have a computer or tape recorder? Wayne Green,
Editor of '73', a while back, gave his method of learning Morse,
which, somewhat simplified, goes like this. Listen to Morse, any
Morse, at any speed, on any Ham band. Choose any character, and
get the sound of it, as a WHOLE, fixed in your mind.
Each time you hear this character, write it down. Pretty soon,
you'll pick it out every time it's sent. Then add another
character. Write them BOTH down whenever you hear them. Continue
until you can pick them both out. Keep adding characters. After a
while you'll know Morse.
Well, that makes sense to me, although you have to have a
receiver, and you'd have to wait for a long time to hear some of
the less common characters. But many old-time telegraphers (like
Ted McElroy) learnt just like this in days past. Any comments?
Taking Down Code
Don, ZL2ASK writes 'I would like to warn others of a trap I fell
into. By profession I am a draughtsman, and so tend to write in
block capitals as I would on a drawing. This gives clear
lettering which is easy to read.
Naturally, when learning Morse I also copied in this way and
after a year managed to pass 12 wpm. From there the sky should
have been the limit. But I did not seem able to increase my
copying speed, until I realised what the problem was. The fastest
I could copy in block capitals was 13 wpm. Since most people seem
to send at 15 to 18 wpm - at least the ones I listen to, there
was no way I could copy at that speed. I am now re-learning to
scribble Morse copy in normal writing.
Please warn your readers of this problem! Up to 13 wpm block
capitals are OK, but I recommend always copying in normal
handwriting, right from the start.
Don's point is an interesting one. I taught myself to take down
code using only upper-case letters, forming them with the
'approved military' strokes given in the old ARRL booklet
'Learning the Radio-telegraph Code' and can still make hard copy
that way up to about 18 wpm.
Service operators were trained this way to ensure uniformity of
letter formation, and aid deciphering copy made by a variety of
excited people under difficult conditions. Above this speed, I
have to write longhand - but I had to learn that afterwards, and
it was surprisingly difficult to make the transition.
Because I've never practised the skill, I can only hard-copy
reliably up to about 25 wpm, though I can read and comprehend,
without writing, much faster than this. But experienced
old-timers like Bruce, ZL1ADF, and Bill, ZL2BO, have copied me
verbatim at 35 - 40 wpm in longhand, although they say that the
pencil nearly catches fire.
However, an equally important skill is to learn to read 'in the
head', without writing everything down. Most experienced CW
operators only note details for the log, and points they wish to
remember or comment on later. Again, this ability has to be
aquired.
Our test requires hard copy, and we get used to automatically
making it, without bothering too much about the sense of what we
have written. For head copy, we have to simultaneously read and
comprehend, and many of us have forgotten how hard this initially
seemed. What have other learners found?
(Extracted and adapted for MM from Gary Bold's 'The Morseman'
column in 'Break-In', journal of NZART - various issues,
1988-1995)
By Ray Hunting G3OC
(From Morsum Magnificat Nr.8, Summer 1988)
Fifty years ago, in 1936, I saw an appeal from Moscow,
published in an American magazine. The following year there would
be an Arctic expedition led by Papanin, with the scientists
Fedorov, Shirov, and Krenkel. The four men were to spend the
winter on an ice-floe drifting south from the North Pole, and
Krenkel would send daily reports to a Soviet base, using a 10
watt transmitter, powered by a hand-operated generator.
The call-sign was to be UPOL, and all transmissions would be on
the 20m CW band. Moscow wanted full copies of all transmissions,
and the best complete entry would be awarded "The Russian
Grand Prize" for this useful contribution to science. The
purpose of course was to have a radio back-up in the event of
losing contact with Krenkel, or news about the party if the
ice-floe disintegrated.
Fifty years ago my sole ambition in life was to get that Grand
Prize! I picked up Krenkel on his first transmission and copied
him day after day during the weeks that followed.
When the time came to send the material, I recognised two evident
drawbacks. First, radio communication from the ice-floe had been
uninterrupted, so there was no need for foreign reports of the
text. Secondly, all entries had to be posted to a most sinister
address, "The Kommissar for Chemical and Air Defence,
Moscow". My large envelope, with its sheaf of coded
messages, together with reports of radio and weather conditions,
virtually screamed for investigation by the authorities before it
was permitted to leave this country.
Months later, Moscow replied with a UPOL QSL card, a map of the
Arctic and photographs of the heroic ice-floe team. There was no
mention of the Grand Prize or its recipient. These unusual items
from the Soviet Union roused much local interest and I was
invited to display them at the Manchester Radio Exhibition in
1938.
I mounted them with newspaper cuttings in a large picture frame,
and it went on show. To my bitter disappointment, my precious
exhibit was stolen, probably for the picture frame. If you happen
to see a Russian pre-war map of the Arctic with a UPOL QSL card
attached, they belong to me. By the way, the organisers of the
Exhibition came to see me in 1939 to inquire if I had any other
interesting Ham Radio items to display. Among the various
expressions and phrases in my reply was the word
"NO"...
By Tony Smith
(From Morsum Magnificat Nr.19, Spring 1991, a special issue
commemorating the 200th anniversary of the birth of Samuel F.B.
Morse)
On 3rd March, 1843, Congress finally approved a grant of
$30,000 to test the electromagnetic telegraph. Prof. Morse was 52
years old. Behind him were years of disappointment, frustration
and poverty. Ahead of him was the construction of a 40 mile wire
along the railway running from Washington to Baltimore, a task
new to those undertaking it, requiring techniques, equipment and
materials which, in some cases, did not yet exist.
Morse was appointed Superintendent of Telegraphs at a salary of
$2,000 a year. Professors Fisher and Gale were assistant
superintendents, at $1,500, and Alfred Vail an assistant
superintendent at $1,000.
Fisher, who had helped with earlier experiments, was to supervise
the manufacture of the wire, and its insulation and insertion
into lead pipes. Gale's scientific knowledge was to be placed at
the disposal of the project whenever required. Vail was to
superintend the making of the instruments, batteries, etc, and
F.O.J. Smith, Morse's fourth partner, was to secure a favourable
contract for the trenching required to run the wire underground.
Nepotism
For the first few months all went well. Several contracts were
placed with costs considerably less than estimated and Morse grew
hopeful of early completion well within the sum allocated by
Congress. Problems then arose over the contract price for the
trenching which, disturbingly, was exactly that estimated by
Morse. It transpired that Smith had placed the contract with his
brother-in-law, and the difference of opinion between Morse and
Smith over this matter was the beginning of an ever-widening gulf
between them.
Superintending the trenching for the contractor was Ezra Cornell,
later founder and chief benefactor of Cornell University. He is
reputed to have invented the plough, pulled by eight mules, which
dug the trench, laid the cable and filled the trench again, all
in one operation. When the work finally started he was able to
lay the line so quickly the manufacturers could not keep up with
him.
After nine miles had been laid, it was found that the
pipe-encased wire had faulty insulation caused by heat in the
manufacturing process. Professor Fisher, responsible for
supervising manufacture, and for testing the finished product,
was dismissed and at the same time Gale resigned due to
ill-health. With just himself and Alfred Vail left to superintend
the work, Morse was in despair. He had planned an underground
line believing that Cooke and Wheatstone's system in England had
successfully used buried conductors.
Overhead wires
Vail and Cornell urgently read all the literature they could find
about the European telegraphs and discovered that the English
underground wires had also been a failure and had been replaced
by overhead wires on poles. Cornell was then appointed as a
mechanical assistant to Morse at $1,000 a year, taking
responsibility for constructing the line, and his enthusiasm,
energy and ability became a major factor in its final completion.
By April 1844, poles 24ft high, 200ft apart were extending along
the railroad. Good progress was again being made, with Morse
telegraphing his assistants and receiving replies "within
seconds". The insulation of the overhead wires where they
were attached to the poles caused problems, but Cornell devised
an economical solution using readily available glass doorknobs.
With everyone working under great pressure, the wires reached
Annapolis Junction, 22 miles from Washington, on May 1, in time
to pick up news from the railway of the proceedings of the Whig
national convention at Baltimore. News of the convention's
nominations for president and vice-president were flashed to
Washington an hour before the train bearing the news reached
there, enabling Morse to give that city a foretaste of what was
to come.
Things went well today
On the day before the convention he wrote to Vail, "Get
everything ready in the morning... When you learn the name of the
candidate see if you cannot give it to me... before the
(rail)cars leave you..."
Next day, he wrote, "Things went well today. Your last
writing (ie, sending. Ed) was good. You did not correct your
error of running your letters together until some time. Better be
deliberate... I may have some of the Cabinet tomorrow... Get from
the passengers in the cars from Baltimore, or elsewhere, all the
news you can transmit..."
Finally, the line from Washington to Baltimore was completed and,
on May 24, 1844, all was ready for the first official
demonstration of the Morse telegraph. Annie Ellsworth handed
Morse the first words to be sent - and the rest is history!
Incredulous
On May 26, the Democratic convention met in Baltimore and Morse
was able to relay news direct from the convention to Washington,
another opportunity to demonstrate the potential of his
telegraph. Vail and Cornell had their instruments at the railway
station in Baltimore, while Morse was located in a room below the
Senate chamber in Washington.
There were nine ballots for the presidential nomination, all
reported faithfully and instantly by Vail. Excitement rose to a
crescendo in Washington as the news came into Morse's office and
a little-known outsider, James K. Polk, finally received the
almost unanimous support of the convention for his candidature.
The same procedure followed the vice-presidential nomination, but
this time the nominee, Senator Silas Wright was not at the
convention, but in Washington. Vail telegraphed details to Morse
who passed them to the senator. Wright declined the nomination
and asked Morse to send his decision to an incredulous convention
which received his reply only minutes after nomination.
First conference by wire
They telegraphed again, received the same reply and, unsure of
the accuracy of the new telegraph, sent a delegation by train to
Washington to make sure they had received the message correctly.
In Baltimore, having received confirmation of the accuracy of the
telegraphic message, a committee of the conference sat with Vail
at his instrument while Wright joined Morse in Washington in
private session. Via the new telegraph, the committee told Wright
the reasons why he should accept the vice-presidential
nomination. In return he explained his reasons for declining and
this first long-distance telegraphic conference continued until
the committee was finally convinced that Wright would not accept.
Thus the Morse telegraph became a reality. Soon its wires and
facilities would spread across North America and then around the
world overtaking or replacing, in its day, all other systems. The
age of telecommunications had begun.
By James S. Farrior, W4FOK
(From Morsum Magnificat Nr.54, October 1997)
For a number of years I took a small amateur radio rig with me
into the jungles of Central America, where I participated in
archaeological digs. My amateur radio call, W4FOK, was issued in
1938, and I operated as W4FOK/TG in Guatemala, and as W4FOK/V3 in
Belize.
My little rig, a Ten-Tec Century 22, has an output of only 20
watts, and no voice capability. The transceiver, a.c. power
supply, antenna tuner, a 20/40/80 meter antenna system, tools,
manuals, and spare parts, all fit in a small case which is
carried aboard the aircraft.
In each year of jungle operation, approximately 100 messages were
handled by radio amateur volunteers in various parts of the
country. Notably among those who nearly always met the regular
evening schedule were W4EQE, NS5H, WD8PNL, N8GDO, and W9CN. Often
there were others.
Most of the messages handled were personal messages for the
staff, but a number dealt with emergencies, mostly medical. All
were handled promptly and accurately, and this could not have
been done using voice due to the low power, the primitive
antenna, and the congested state of the amateur radio bands.
Urgent Traffic by CW
In Guatemala, our camp was in the extremely remote, uninhabited
north eastern corner of the Peten near a large Maya
archaeological site known as Rio Azul. In 1986, when digging at
Rio Azul, we found a Maya tomb just as we were closing the
season. Had it not been for the radio, we would have had to back
fill the extensive excavation without clearing the tomb, with a
strong possibility that it would have been looted before the next
season.
However, in less than three hours after finding the tomb, by
using our CW communications link, we had sent a message to the
National Geographic Society's headquarters in Washington, D.C.,
and had received a reply authorizing funding for another week's
work to clear the tomb.
In 1987, we had a severe malaria epidemic at Rio Azul. Medical
advice was obtained through an exchange of messages with the
Center for Disease Control in Atlanta. A radio message was also
sent to San Antonio, Texas, requesting that the U.S. Embassy in
Guatemala be contacted and that arrangements be made for medical
assistance. As a result, two days later, a doctor and a nurse
arrived with medical supplies after a difficult trip through the
jungle.
Deadly Snakebite
In 1990, we dug at Kinal, another large Maya site 10 km from our
Rio Azul camp. The dry season had not arrived, and we were
spending an average of six hours of the work day travelling
through the muddy jungle between our camp and the work site.
On March 12th, a little after 4 p.m., while he was cutting palm
thatch for the camp buildings, a young Guatemalan native workman,
Victor Medrani, was bitten on the lower right leg by a huge
snake. A fellow workman killed the snake with his machete and ran
at top speed to the camp bringing the snake with him.
Dr. Dick Adams, the project director from the University of Texas
at San Antonio, and I were the only staff in camp at the time,
and we saw immediately that the snake was the dreaded Fer de
Lance. Bites from this snake are often fatal, even with the best
medical treatment.
We grabbed the snake bite kit, climbed in the small four-wheel
drive pickup and headed down the muddy jungle road. Victor, who
had been left in the jungle beside the road was already very ill,
in pain and bleeding from the mouth and eyes. Dick immediately
injected the anti-venum we had brought, but back at camp,
Victor's condition quickly worsened, and we had soon used all of
the remaining anti-venum.
Call for Help
While others tended to Victor, Dick and I met in the radio tent
to decide what might be the best course of action. It was clear
that Victor would die if we could not get him to a hospital
quickly, and our best chance was to use the radio to try to get a
helicopter to pick him up. However, this would have to be done
working through a U.S. radio contact, despite the difficulties
often experienced in getting a telephone call through to
Guatemala from the USA.
It was time for the normal 5 p.m. radio schedule, and, as usual,
Marty Morrison, NS5H, who lives in San Antonio, was on the job.
She is a fine telegrapher, who sends fast beautiful code on a
bug, and she normally handled all of our traffic for the San
Antonio area.
Through her, we sent a message to Dick Gill, a friend of the
project who lives in Austin and San Antonio, requesting that he
call the U.S. Embassy in Guatemala and try to make arrangements
for a helicopter to pick up Victor from a cleared area near the
camp.
By 5:30 Gill had been located with the help of Jane Adams, Dick's
wife, and he placed a call immediately. The telephone service
between San Antonio and Guatemala City was working much better
than usual, and the necessary contacts were quickly made.
It then took an hour and a half for the U.S. Embassy in Guatemala
City to determine that the Guatamalan military would not take
their helicopter into the jungle at night, and no other
alternatives were available, probably not even the next day.
Request for Medical Team
Upon receiving that information at 7:10 p.m., we asked Marty, by
CW, to ask Gill, who speaks fluent Spanish, to call the Fire
Chief in Santa Elena, a small town on the edge of the jungle, to
arrange for medics to depart Santa Elena as soon as possible with
the necessary anti-venum, antibiotics, etc., to treat the
patient. We would leave the camp shortly, and hopefully would
meet the medics about half way, where they could begin treating
Victor.
Luck was again with us. It normally took a long time, hours and
sometimes days, to get a call through from the U.S. to Santa
Elena, but miraculously, the call went through immedately. At
7:25, Marty, back on the key, told us that the Fire Chief had
agreed to help. However, he had no anti-venum, and no money to
buy it.
Through the CW link with Marty, and the telephone link to the
Chief, we asked him to get the money from the Project's
Guatemalan agent, Edmundo Solis, who lived in Santa Elena. We
also suggested they take Edmundo and use his truck, as he was
familiar with the jungle road and his vehicle was well suited to
jungle travel.
Help On The Way
Marty was asked to pass along the information that our trucks
would depart camp within the hour. Gill confirmed that he had
made the necessary requests, but he could get no confirmation
from Guatemala on the action taken until the following morning.
The excellent telephone service we had experienced for a short
while had returned to its normal condition.
In fact, the medical team had been quickly assembled, the
pharmacist located, and the needed supplies obtained. Because of
the rain, however, their chances, and ours, of getting through
the dark jungle and making a rendezvous that night were poor.
Medicine Man
At the camp, Victor was clearly very sick, and screaming with
pain and fear. We had used all the drugs and other medications
that could help, and the workmen were now insisting that one of
their number, a medicine man, should be allowed to administer to
him.
He wanted to brush Victor's body with branches from certain
shrubs, to lay leaves from certain plants on his leg, and have
him drink a concoction made from jungle plants. What they wanted
to do seemed to be rather harmless, especially in view of the
situation that would have existed if their request had been
denied and Victor had died.
Remarkably, this treatment seemed to calm Victor down a bit, but
he was still in agony, and everyone including him, I'm sure, felt
he had little chance of surviving.
"Vaya con Dios"
A litter was made for him in a small four-wheel-drive van. Other
trucks carried workmen with flashlights, machetes, a chain saw,
shovels, cables, extra fuel, and other things they would need to
force their way through the jungle. Everyone said "Vaya con
Dios" to Victor, who groaned "gracias", and at 8
p.m. the convoy left camp.
For half an hour, the sound of their engines could be heard as
they struggled through the muddy jungle. Although Victor was
wedged into his litter, we knew he was being bumped, jolted, and
thrown about, and that this would continue for many hours.
Marty was still on the radio, so I thanked her, Jane and Gill for
the tremendous job they had done. She said that they would
continue trying to get through to Santa Elena to find out what
had happened. In the meantime, there was nothing that we could
do, so we arranged to contact them the next morning at 7 a.m. on
20 meters.
At 7 a.m. Marty's signal was clear and strong, and she reported
that Gill had finally received word that the team from Santa
Elena had started out. At 8 a.m. and again at 9 a.m., she
reported that they had had no further luck in getting through to
Santa Elena. The phone service had now returned to its normal
state.
Dig Terminated
Two days later, at our normal CW schedule, Marty said that she
had received a confusing report from Santa Elena. Apparently the
patient had had his leg amputated, but attempts to verify that
report had failed so far.
The next day our team arrived back in camp with stories of their
difficult trip but also some good news. Victor had survived the
trip and had responded to the treatment. The report we had
received related to another snake bite victim in the hospital.
The scheme to meet halfway almost failed because the two teams
were traveling on separate, parallel detours, and would have
passed each other if one man had not by chance spotted a
headlight through the jungle. Edmundo told me later that without
the wireless telegraph to set up the jungle rendezvous with the
medics, there was little chance that Victor would have arrived at
the hospital alive.
Because of the costs associated with Victor's hospital treatment,
Dr. Adams decided to terminate the dig at Easter; and when we
left the jungle at that time, we spent the night in Santa Elena.
Urgent Transfer
We fully expected that Victor would be well, or nearly so, and
were shocked to find him very near death. He had had several
operations to remove infections from his stomach, intestines, and
elsewhere, and just prior to our arrival, his kidneys had failed.
His leg was a mass of infection. The poorly equipped hospital had
run out of antibiotics, and had not been able to handle the
situation.
Dr. Adams immediately decided that we must try to transfer Victor
by air ambulance to a modern hospital in Guatemala City. Over
objections by his family, and also by the local hospital who
demanded that Victor's bill be paid immediately, he began making
arrangements.
It was already after dark, the bank was closed, and the small
airport had shut down for the night. However, Dick had friends
locally, and at the hospital in Guatemala, who helped him make
arrangements for an air ambulance and for the airport to re-open.
The Fire Chief who had come to our aid before, agreed to
transport Victor from the hospital to the airport. Although the
hospital was assured that they would be quickly paid, Victor's
leaving was more like an abduction than a dismissal.
Leg Amputated
When Victor arrived at the hospital in Guatemala City his heart
and lungs stopped, and he had to be revived and placed on life
support systems, including kidney dialysis. In spite of his
general condition, the doctors decided that his leg had to be
amputated immediately if he were to have any chance of surviving.
When I left Guatemala City a week later, he was out of danger,
and would soon be transferred to a rehabilitation hospital. When
he recovered, he returned to Santa Elena on crutches, and Dick
arranged for him to be paid his normal wage for the remainder of
the year.
The next year, 1991, Victor was back at camp. He was in good
spirits, looking healthy, and using crutches. His muscular
appearance indicated that he had not been idle. When offered a
job washing artifacts in camp, he asked for a "man's
job". In 1992, still without a prosthesis, he showed an
amazing ability to do hard work.
I learned that arrangements had been made for Victor to be fitted
with an artificial leg. Our project moved the next year to the
Rio Bravo area in Belize. I suppose I will never hear of him
again but I will always wonder how he made out.
Although Victor lost a leg, his life was saved, and Morse
telegraphy played an important part in making that possible.
Let's not ring down the curtain on telegraphy. It still lives!
Morsum Magnificat, Flying the Flag for Morse!