Map of Iraklion Air Station from a base school yearbook, circa 1990.

The map has been annotated with three-digit building numbers, where known. Note that these numbers were assigned by area. The 100-series started by the main gate (assigned 101) and proceeded north to include the Airman's Club. The 200-series was assigned to structures bounded by Main, North, and West streets--and so on. Unknown building numbers have been assigned the first digit for their area followed by a lower case letter.

The building ID's attached to the numbers are generally for buildings as they existed in the 1960's, but the map itself best reflects a later period at IAS. It dates to sometime after 1978 when the addition was put on the southwest side of the operations building.

(Scan of map--without annotation--provided by George Larson, who was a dependent at IAS in the early 1990's)

Photos from Carole and Frank Bellacera (August 2003)

These photos are courtesy of Carole Bellacera. She and her husband Frank, both stationed at IAS 1973-1975, traveled back there in June of 2003 and recorded these 21st Century photos of the base.

NCO club, 2003.
(Bellacera photo)

Officers' club, 2003.
(Bellacera photo)

The theater, 2003.
(Bellacera photo)

Auto and Wood Hobby shop, 2003.
(Bellacera photo)

The writeup and photos that follow were provided by Art Kramer, who traveled to Crete in April 2005. Art was a member of the 2140th Communication Squadron, Detachment 3, in 1961 and 1962.

FINDING AND TOURING IRAKLION AIR STATION, APRIL 2005

[Art is in downtown Iraklion as the story begins.]

It is time to find IAS. Not being sure where to get my rental car, I hire a taxi to take me to the rental agency. The drive is about five minutes, and it costs me just 3 Euros.

I rent my car, a Fiat stick shift, and head east. The rental agency, an AutoEurope franchise, is near the McDonalds. The Greek lady, who is very nice and very attractive, fills out a ton of paper work. I have never had such paperwork in renting a car in the States. My car is prepaid, via the AutoEurope web site. She walks me out to the car, squeezed between two others. We do a walk around and she checks off the assortment of dings that are on the car on a check sheet. I point out a couple she misses.

After a cheerful goodbye, I get it, and struggle to get the car out of the parking space. It’s been a long time since I have driven a stick shift car, but it does handle very well. I am at the corner of Ikarou and Ethnikis Andistasseos, which is really not far from the downtown area.

The road to IAS goes past the airport, as you know. The street is narrow and winding. I don’t recognize anything on it. I am busy trying to "drive like a Greek," which means squeezing between cars that are either parked or coming at me. It is all quite nerve racking.

At the airport I drive through the maze of cars and buses and ignore the sign that directs traffic to the new "National Highway." But in just a few seconds I discover that the old road ends at the Greek Army base. I make a quick U turn, as there is no option but to go to the National Highway. The map shows the old road continuing, but I can’t find it.

So I go under the highway and enter the National Highway on a ramp. This is not a four lane highway, but a two lane road with wide shoulders. But the Greeks treat it like a four lane road, using the shoulder as a 4^th lane! Passing is done at all times, with no regard to center line striping. I have to adapt to the Greek way of driving. It is hair raising, to say the least. But I don’t want to be on this busy, fast road. I am searching for the remains of the life I lead 43 years earlier. So I get off the road, and start my search.

I am on the old road now, but heading east. This is the road I knew years ago. But everything has changed! What can I say? This is not the simple road I knew, with simple homes here and there.

I go through Gournes. I go down the hill that passes through the town, and then up to where IAS must be. I am confused by the changes that are all around me. There is a fence to the north, and then an opening, and I realize it must be IAS. I quickly turn into this open area, and there is a road leading onto the Station. Back in the old days there was no opening in the fence. I am amazed at how much the vegetation has grown. Where I have driven in is where the trailers had once stood for the married personnel. I drive down this street, then turn left.

Now I know where I am – it is the road that leads past the dining hall and the barracks that we occupied. I stop. I get out. All is quiet. Trees are tall, the shrubbery under them overgrown. I see where the flags once flew. The platform for the dedication plaque is there – all busted up, lying in ruin.

I drive to the beach. The recreational buildings we used were replaced by a pretty, mostly glass building, with nice changing rooms along one side. I walk out to the beach. The water is cool, and it is very pretty. The pier that was built some time after 1962 has a few small boats tied to it. Dia (Dragon) Island still broods across the channel.

I drive up the street where the movie theater is. It still stands, a wrecked building. The Dallas Huts that once stood there, where the 1240^th AACS headquarters, which became the 2140^th AFCS Det. 3, are long gone. The weeds stand high. The electric generating plant is also wrecked.

I drive up to the "new" chapel, finished in 1962. It is in good condition. In this location there is some activity. It turns out that this is the Gournes City school, and that across from it is the new Gournes City Hall! Gournes has taken over the old dependant school, and is using it for their own schools. The barracks near the school (301) has been remodeled, and is also being used for the school. Imagine Gournes having a City Hall, and a big fancy school. Time has changed a lot. The old Quonset building that had been the chapel still stands, with a fence around it. The small tower where the bell was hung is still there, the bell is gone. Now here was an enigma: at the chapel the sign is still up that gives the hours of the various services for the chapel: Catholic, Protestant, Jewish. How strange.

The check point station for the Air Police still stands. But the windows are all broken out. People come and go, paying no attention to me. I wonder if I am invisible? Other signs: "Iraklion Air Station," not far from the chapel; "Share A Ride" on the old bus shelter.

I drive back to the barracks, and park. No one seems to care what I do. I find an opening in the fence, crawl over thorny bushes gone wild, and make my way to barracks 305. A BIG 305 has been painted at the end of the building. Those same big numbers are painted on each barracks. I guess they had a hard time finding their way home in the later years of IAS.

A new 3 story barracks was built between 305 and 304. Where once there were just two barracks, there are now three. They squeezed another barracks between 304 and 305. It is numbered 307. I wend my way through overgrown bushes and climb the steps to the 2^nd floor. The door is open. The entire bay is a wreck. The ceiling is falling down. The floor is littered with trash. I go to my room; they had put in permanent wooden closets and changed the window configuration. Surprisingly the windows are not broken. I look out of the window to what had been a dirt field, and observe that a basketball court had been installed. The trailers are gone.

The firehouse still stands, but the doors are broken and stand open.

I drive past the infirmary, the old motor pool, the telephone exchange. Still painted on the telephone exchange is "7276 CS Telephone Maintenance," and below that is painted "YOU CAN CALL ON US." I see nothing of the AFCS headquarters that was used after 1962. Next to the telephone exchange is a new building that still has a large logo on it, with the inscription of "7276 Communications Squadron" below it. I don’t recognize this logo.

I make no attempt to go to the "new" parts of IAS that are further east. I have no interest in seeing them. I end my exercise through the destruction of IAS.

I have one more goal: to find the transmitter site. I go back out past the dilapidated AP check station, and turn right. Just like 44 years previously, I am heading toward the transmitter site.

Across the street from IAS is a BP gas station. I drive down the hill, but all of the old landmarks are gone. No little taverna, no old buildings. I remember when Oppie would come back to our room from Gournes, quite happily drunk, and talk about the Greek girl he had met. He said "she’s as cute as a little speckled puppy dog."

I drive down the road, heading west. I can find nothing familiar. I search for the road to the site, and finally I turn south on the road to Anapolis. There are no other roads going south, as the National Highway has bisected the entire area to the south of the old road.

I drive up the hill. In the distance I can see the old church high up on a hill, and the old cross still looks down on the area. High above me, on the top of the hill to Anapolis is a big sign that says "Water Park!" An indication of how the area has changed. I stop and search for evidence of the old transmitter site. Finally I realize it is gone. The National Highway has probably gone right through it. My conclusion is that it was replaced by the new troposphere scatter site up on "Diamond Head" hill.

After winding through narrow lanes and among houses, all of which have been built since 1962, and where once it was only wheat fields and vineyards, I go back to the National Highway, and take the old road again. Again I drive past IAS – recognizing the corner fence, and passing the rest of the station.

I head for Chersonisos. All is changed. No threshing floors, no banana trees, no windmills, just houses and hotels and bars and souvenir shops. I can’t even find the road that would take me to what we called "Pebble Beach." I am too tired and saddened to even search for that lovely beach with its old Byzantine church ruins on the knoll at the east end.