It is the land of “the midnight sun.” In Greenland, time was not just measured by clocks it was measured by light, or the lack of it. From May through August, the sun never sets. From November through January, total darkness. During spring and fall, the transitions happen fast. While it is not like a ride to the moon, your body and mind keep asking: “What the hell is going on here?”

Every person has to figure out how to deal with it. Some drink more. Some smoke more. Some eat more. Some sleep more. I did at least three things. First, I played hard handball sometimes five times a week. Second, I recorded long-playing records onto longer-playing tapes and built a great music library. Third, I obtained about 30 books on Vietnam and Southeast Asia. I did research to figure out what was really going on in the war. I concluded that the United States was making a terrible mistake being in Vietnam. It took about ten years to be proven right. Even Secretary McNamara eventually agreed.

Other than putting extra energy into my job as Assistant Chief of Security and Law Enforcement, I made it through twelve months without any bad long-term effects.

Now, that background matters because the real story the one I still laugh about happened in June 1965, when a very important visitor came to base.

A VIP was coming to the base from Denmark Admiral Kurt Ramberg, the equivalent of a four-star general. He was the Chief of Defense for Denmark, the country’s top-ranking military officer. His visit was an important diplomatic and sovereign gesture. He had military authority over the entire country of Greenland.

Another important person was the Danish Liaison Officer, the only one with a small house on the base. He had ultimate authority on the base because the United States leased the land, but Greenland owned it. His name was Soren Pedersen. He was responsible for sovereignty, coordination, and diplomatic oversight. He also ruled over the Danish construction workers.

The night before the Admiral arrived, Mr. Pedersen hosted a gathering. As head of the Honor Guard, I was invited. There was lots of tasty Danish food, along with the national drink Aquavit. There were many toasts. I never drank much, so I was feeling a bit tipsy after a while.

Then came the surprise. Mr. Pedersen looked at me and said, “Lieutenant, why don’t you do the ceremony in Danish? I will teach you. It would be a great honor to the Admiral.” I said, “Teach me!” The next two hours were devoted to rehearsing as we ate, drank, and shared stories. As the party wound down, two of my guys picked me up and took me to my room in the officers’ quarters.

At about 5:00 AM, two more of my guys knocked on my door. “Sir, we need to get ready for the honor ceremony.” They knew I was a little hung over but I always had a great relationship with my troops. They gave me cup after cup of coffee. They shined my shoes to a mirror. They pressed my uniform so the creases were knife-sharp. They made sure my tie and ribbons were straight.

The VIP aircraft landed. My Honor Guard guys were perfectly lined up. I stood at the far end of the formation. The Admiral descended the stairs onto the red carpet. My Base Commander saluted him, and they both walked to the front of the Honor Guard. The minute they stopped, it was my signal to march forward and salute the Admiral. As I saluted him, I spoke the ceremony perfectly. In Danish.

My commander looked at me like I had lost my mind. We forgot to tell him.

I walked the Admiral around to inspect the Honor Guard. He made comments to me. I had no idea what he said, so I just replied, “Yaya” – Danish for “yes, yes.” It worked. Then it was over. The Admiral and Base Commander were driven away.

Later, my commander called me. He congratulated me for doing a great diplomatic thing for our country. He said the Admiral insisted that I be invited to his reception dinner. At dinner, I sat next to the Danish Liaison Officer. As he told stories, he made sure my glass was filled with Aquavit. With a manly wink, he said, “Drink up. No memorizing tonight.”

This is true diplomacy, though on a small scale. Be it known that I never threatened to have my country take over their country. The arrogance of such a statement would create an enemy for life.

Diplomacy is always preferable over raw power.

— Vern Hayden, CFP®

In 1965, I learned firsthand that the greatest danger at Thule Air Force Base in northern Greenland was not an enemy. It was the environment.

Thule was a remote Arctic outpost, just 700 miles from the North Pole. At the time, about 6,000 military personnel and 2,000 Danish construction workers lived there. Once anyone stepped beyond the boundaries, they were completely exposed to a world that did not forgive mistakes. Discipline wasn’t optional. Warnings were not suggestions. They were often the difference between life and death.

During one Phase Three alert, the most dangerous level, when no one was supposed to be outside under any circumstance, I was part of a three-man rescue team. Our mission was to find a missing Danish construction worker who had failed to respond to the warning system.

I was a First Lieutenant, Assistant Chief of Security and Law Enforcement. I hung onto the rope as I boarded our half-track rescue vehicle, which was specially equipped to withstand the extreme weather. The wind was around 90 knots. Visibility was near zero. The temperature was about 40 degrees below zero.

We weren’t dodging bullets. But we were up against the worst challenges the environment could offer.

We had only fragments of information from the man’s buddies about where he might have gone. Foot by foot, we slowly investigated different locations. Finally, we found him sprawled out on an icy side road. He was barely alive. We struggled to get him into the half-track and rushed him to the base hospital as fast as we could.

The doctors worked on him right away. They saved his life.

That was Thule.

Discipline wasn’t optional. Warnings were not suggestions. In the Arctic, the environment does not forgive mistakes. And sometimes, the difference between life and death is simply showing up and refusing to give up.

Vern Hayden CFP®

Welcome. My name is Vern Hayden CFP, author of How Do I know You Won’t Steal My Money?. I’m so happy to have you as a visitor to my blog about my new book. This project is very special to me, and I hope to share some of that excitement with you here.

I’ll be using this blog to interact with you about How Do I know You Won’t Steal My Money?, expanding on some of the topics in it and blogging on some of the ideas related to my book. This is a great place for you to get to know me, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you, too. What did you think of How Do I know You Won’t Steal My Money?? What questions do you have for me? How do you relate to my book?

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