humor soon infected all and became a vital part of how each man looked upon his 

 lot and dealt with others. It would crop up in the oddest circumstances: With 

 a perfectly straight face, one old hand (a commuting medic) dryly observed on 

 one of the few days the road to Base Camp was uniquely dry, "You're going to 

 have to get a crew busy pumping water back on this road: It's almost dry, you 

 knowl" 



Strangers to Base Camp and TEKTITE II 's operations sometimes reacted adversely 

 to what might on first sight have made a bad impression: "You can't run a 

 government operation like thisi" "Isn't there anybody in charge here?" 



It was unsightly, at times. (Particularly after a storm.) And there was some- 

 one in charge (although you couldn't tell by looking at him): Most every indi- 

 vidual there, at one time or another, was called upon to fulfill a vital role 

 in order to handle one or another of the constant string of unique problems 

 that beset TEKTITE II. And they did so, consistently and well. 



What often seemed illusive to newcomers was TEKTITE II's greatest asset: An 

 esprit and elan that no amount of money could have bought. TEKTITE II was 

 indeed not blessed with vast sums of money. While there was enough to do the 

 job, it meant that though the needs of the aquanauts were met, the material 

 needs at Base Camp were sometimes wanting: When the aquanauts were dining on 

 frozen Apollo-type dinners, the menu at Base Camp often featured goat or salt 

 fish (both healthy fare, but courage-taxing for the newly initiated). 



But this was good. There proved to be just the right measure of paucity to 

 bring out the best in everyone. "Make do" became a basic mode of doing busi- 

 ness. Repair, rather than replace, was a prime requirement. "Can you fix it" 

 was asked about until someone was found who could, rather than ship the mal- 

 functioning device away and be deprived of its use for want of minor repair. 



Positions of rank simply couldn' t--and didn't--mean much here. Besides, you 

 couldn't tell who was what by looking at them anyway. One big burly bald and 

 bearded fellow, dressed in what looked like surplus garb from a pirate vessel, 

 was one of the accomplished physicians whose job it was to keep people healthy. 

 The sandaled feet sticking out from under an ailing jeep sometimes belonged to 

 a middle management government executive who just happened to be gifted at 

 transmission repair: If he didn't pitch in during his off hours and help the 

 beleaguered mechanic, the jeep would be idle yet another day awaiting repair. 



It brought out the best in each of the incredible mix of disciplines that were 

 collected here and--most important--a will and commitment on each person's part 

 to perform his assigned tasks at "best-effort" levels, all the time. Because 

 of this, no one turned down a request if he could do it (simply because "it 

 isn't in my job description"). "No sweat" was the usual answer--later expressed 

 as "no big 'ting, mon," as the local Virgin Island term for it took hold. 



A healthy social structure grew out of this that made an otherwise stark bush 

 camp come to life as a focal point of continual excitement, interest, and 

 thriving activity. When not patching something vital, leisure hours were 

 increasingly exploited in fruitful ways. Each person's interest was satisfied 

 in a wide variety of actions: Exploration, underwater photography, orchid 

 hunting; coconut-carvings and driftwood sculpture hung in many huts. 



IV-16 



