When I returned to work the following Monday, empty fields on base looked like used car lots the Air Force people and their dependents were being evacuated from Clark AB. This process took several days with only personnel deemed essential to base operations remaining at the air base. The airmen who stayed behind were mainly military police and firefighters there to provide security for the base. They were all ordered to evacuate on Saturday, 15 June.
Throughout the week, we watched several ash clouds drift over our heads while we waited in line at the mess hall. The air currents were carrying the gray clouds of ash over the South China Sea. It was an almost daily occurrence and made us feel confident that we were in a safe place. As long as the winds were favorable, we had nothing to worry about, right? Besides, the only ash any of us had any experience with was wood ash from a fire or ash from a cigarette. How bad could that be?
The week went by without too many problems. The base was somewhat overcrowded with the extra people from Clark, but things could have been worse. Luckily, I didn't have to worry much about staying on base after working hours. I had my own small apartment in Olongapo.
Friday, 14 June started out as an uneventful day. I took care of my morning duties and went to lunch. About 1500, I had to travel to the main side of the base to have a government vehicle serviced. When I entered the service area, the sky was slightly overcast but bright.
When I came out of the shop an hour later, the sky was gray and a light gritty mist was falling. The windshield of the truck had a thin layer of wet sand, which I thought would come off with the wipers. It didn't; the wipers and fluid just smeared the stuff over the glass and the falling ash couldn't be stopped. The sandy stuff falling from the sky was a lot different from the wood or cigarette ash we had envisioned.
I drove six miles back to my office with my head stuck out the window for better visibility. By the time I parked the truck, it had stopped raining and dry ash was falling steadily. The street lamps had activated in the darkness. I was reminded of a winter snowfall, but with an 85°F temperature on a tropical island in the middle of June, the scene was very surreal.
Weekend liberty was sounded and several of the Marines I worked with headed for the bus stop to get to the main gate. It started raining again and the wet ash made the road conditions very slippery. Unfortunately, because we were atop a mountain, the buses had to stop running for safety reasons. Our little group eventually caught a ride to the gate after walking and slipping down the mountain. By the time I got home it was about 1730 and was almost completely dark, a rarity in June. Electric power was off at the apartment, a common occurrence in Olongapo. I bought some food from a street vendor and had a candlelight dinner. With no electricity in town, there was nowhere to go, so my wife and I decided to retire for the evening.
Ash, boulders, steam and hot gases from Mt. Pinatubo smother everything in its path. Results below show two scientists inspecting rain-etched layers of ash.
