I was stationed at George AFB from 1963-1965, nearly 2-years. From the onset of living in the WWII old barracks, I have watched and felt my body slowly disintegrate and cause me heavy pain, discomfort, and a loss of trust for a 17-year old Airman. I as well as so many more put our faith and trust into the Air Force’s hands to make sure we had good food, “WATER,” protection on the job, and an understanding for our lives.
Very briefly from the beginning, about 3-4 months after being stationed at the base, both of the heels of my feet contracted some kind of warts, not one but hundreds where not only could I walk but prevented me from doing my job. It took a couple of months to finally send me to UCLA and have them frozen off while being held down by orderlies. We washed parts from the Jet Engines in cleaner without any gloves, the cutting agent was in our hands, arms and at times in our face. The drinking water was brownish, tasted like crap, but there was no such thing as bottled water, so we drank it while living in over 100-degree temps. I had a brain tumor removed, lost my right kidney to cancer yet never smoked, suffer for many decades with severe arthritis. I have lost my hearing because I worked on Jet Engines, on the flight line,
and at the test cells with little yellow push in plugs. I have skin cancer on my head along with severe headaches. I’m not sure how much more life this broken body can take.
Kenn R. Finkelstein
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