Looking at this historic photograph brings back a flood of memories from my own time in the Signal Corps. It shows WAVE operator Virginia L. Scott in March 1943, sitting in the Code Room of the U.S. Navy Radio School in Madison, Wisconsin.

WAVE operator Virginia L. Scott in March 1943, sitting in the Code Room of the U.S. Navy Radio School in Madison, Wisconsin.

The photograph, catalogued in the National Archives as 80-G-431533, captures an ordinary phase of the highly technical work carried out by the WAVES during the Second World War. Seeing her at that workstation with her telegraph key, headphones, and operating table under the glare of direct lighting, I can almost hear the familiar rhythm of CW ringing in my own ears. It is a language of its own, and as an amateur radio operator who loves sending and receiving Morse code, I know exactly the kind of deep focus she is holding in that frame.

During World War II, the Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service stepped up to fill critical roles so that men could be sent to combat zones. Virginia Scott was part of that groundbreaking wave of female personnel who took on demanding technical jobs in the Navy. As someone who has served in military communications, I have immense respect for the structured training and standardized procedures these women had to master.

Radiotelegraphy was the primary transmission tool of the era, the absolute lifeline of naval operations across vast and unforgiving oceans. Long before digital uplinks, it was the sheer skill of the operator that pushed the message through the static.

Her hand rests on that bug key in a way any seasoned Morse code operator would recognize immediately. Sending messages via CW is an art form that requires strict physical and mental discipline. You have to maintain a fluid, consistent rhythm so the operator on the other end, perhaps dealing with heavy interference on a ship thousands of miles away, can copy the signal without error. Scott is entirely focused on executing her message while maintaining the standard posture required by her training. It reminds me so much of the pride we took in the Signal Corps, ensuring every dit and dah was sent with perfect clarity. Dealing with secure information meant there was absolutely no room for sloppy sending.

This specific photograph was originally taken by the U.S. Navy for internal use, but it captured something so profound that painter John Philip Falter used it as a direct reference for a Navy recruitment poster. His painting faithfully reproduced the layout of the scene, turning a moment of routine operational work into a powerful piece of public communication. For anyone involved in the history of communications, and certainly for a fellow CW enthusiast like me, this photo represents a concrete example of how vital these women were. They kept the frequencies alive and proved that the steady hand of a skilled operator was an essential weapon in winning the war.

Here is one of the paintings based on this photograph, and served as a recruitment poster for the WAVES program.

This “It’s a Woman’s War Too! Join the WAVES” poster by John Falter was produced around 1942 as a World War II recruitment tool for the United States Naval Reserve.

This “It’s a Woman’s War Too! Join the WAVES” poster by John Falter was produced around 1942 as a World War II recruitment tool for the United States Naval Reserve. The WAVES (Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service) was established in July 1942, allowing women to serve in the Navy in non-combat roles, such as radio operators and clerical staff. Artist John Philip Falter was a well-known American painter who created numerous propaganda posters and Saturday Evening Post covers, often featuring realistic portraits.

Take a step back in time to November 26, 1928, and take a look at what was then described as the biggest and costliest Coast Guard vessel of its era. The photograph shows the state of the art radio room aboard the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Chelan. At the time this photo was taken, she was the newest cutter in the service, proudly anchored at the Navy Yard in Washington D.C.

Coast Guard Cutter Chelan

Constructed at a staggering cost of approximately $1,000,000 (1928 Dollars), the Chelan proved her incredible value right out of the gate. On her maiden trip, she picked up a desperate SOS signal and successfully towed a disabled schooner 1,500 miles to safety. This remarkable feat stood as a record tow for the service.

Chelan was laid down by Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corporation at Quincy, Massachusetts, on 14 November 1927 and launched on 19 May 1928. She was commissioned into U.S. Coast Guard service as USCGC Chelan on 5 November 1928.

Turbo-electric cutter, Lake-class (250-footers), built by Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corporation, Quincy, MA, at cost of $900,000 (hull & machinery), launched 19 May 1928, commissioned 5 September 1928, 2,075 tons displacement, 250ft long x 42ft beam x 12ft 11in draft, 17.5kts, armed with 1-5in/1-3in/2-6pdr (1929), 97 crew (1940).

The USCGC Chelan (WPG-45) was a 250-foot Lake-class cutter belonging to the United States Coast Guard, launched in 1928. Best known for its extensive operations in Alaska and a dramatic 1937 North Atlantic rescue, the ship was transferred to Great Britain during World War II.

Sitting at the operator station is Ensign Leslie B. Tollaksen. Tollaksen would go on to have a highly decorated military career, eventually serving as a Lieutenant Commander in World War II where he commanded a naval frigate, the USS Moberly, that helped sink a German submarine in the final days of the Atlantic naval war.

We see Tollacksen in the photo above as a fresh ensign aboard USCGC Chelan. From a genealogy page:

Tollaksen “attended the University of Washington for two years before going and graduating from the US Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut. He graduated from The USCG Academy in the Class of 1927, a year early to man the ships chasing down rum runners.

As a young Lieutenant, he was assigned to the US Coast Guard HQ in Washington, DC. He helped establish “Radio Washington” the telegraph station on Telegraph Road in Washington, DC, and also served as Aid to the Secretary of the Treasury, Henry Morgenthau, Jr. (At that time, his sister worked in the typing pool for President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s White House).

Leslie Bliss Tollaksen (1903 – 1973), Also nown as,”Tolley”
Birthdate: April 13, 1903, Port Townsend, Jefferson County, Washington, United States. Death:1973 (69-70), Fort Lauderdale, Broward, Florida, United States

Leslie, about 1937 was the first US Coast Guard Officer selected for Post Graduate School at MIT.

Leslie, during WWII, and in command of the USS Moberly, sank the LAST German U-Boat U-853. U-8533 was a Type IXC/40 U-Boat, and lays on the bottom off Block Island…”

For history and technology buffs, the equipment in this radio room is absolutely fascinating. In 1928, maritime communication was undergoing a major technological revolution. Global maritime operations were beginning to phase out the older, notoriously noisy spark gap transmitters. Instead, the Chelan was outfitted with modern continuous wave vacuum tube technology. This room housed three powerful transmitters and three highly sensitive receiving sets.

If you look closely at the right side of the image, you can see the large glass vacuum tubes safely housed behind protective metal mesh doors. These power tubes allowed operators to transmit signals on specific, sharply tuned frequencies, reaching much further out to sea without causing interference for other ships. The tall black panels are also loaded with large rheostat dials for tuning, as well as precise ammeters and voltmeters to monitor the high voltages running through the system.

Meanwhile, Ensign Tollaksen has his hand positioned near a traditional straight telegraph key to send out Morse code. The receiver units he operated likely utilized regenerative or early superheterodyne circuits, giving operators the incredible sensitivity needed to hear faint SOS calls through heavy atmospheric static. It was exactly this kind of cutting edge machinery that allowed the crew to hear the distress call that led to their record breaking rescue!

USCGC Chelan was a Lake-class cutter belonging to the United States Coast Guard launched on 19 May 1928 and commissioned on 5 September 1928. After 13 years of service to the Coast Guard, she was transferred to the Royal Navy as part of the Lend-Lease Act, and named HMS Lulworth (Y60). During the war Lulworth served in a convoy Escort Group for Western Approaches Command. She returned to the U.S. Coast Guard after World War II.

USCGC Chelan was a Lake-class cutter belonging to the United States Coast Guard launched on 19 May 1928 and commissioned on 5 September 1928. After 13 years of service to the Coast Guard, she was transferred to the Royal Navy as part of the Lend-Lease Act, and named HMS Lulworth (Y60). During the war Lulworth served in a convoy Escort Group for Western Approaches Command. She returned to the U.S. Coast Guard after World War II.

Read more about this vessel: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USCGC_Chelan.

Welcome to the chaotic, thrilling world of the HF pileup. Whether you are the one calling CQ from a park in Nebraska or the one hunting a rare DX station, success relies on rhythm, frequency management, and a deep understanding of human behavior.

Here is a proper look at how a pileup appears on a modern display, followed by a complete guide on how to survive it.

A “pileup” on shortwave amateur radio frequencies. The main station is at the low frequency, and stays put. The hunters spread out, above, and call on a single frequency somewhere in the calling window of frequencies (I.e., up five to ten).

Over my decades of working Morse code (CW on amateur radio), I have learned a few critical things about how to navigate the chaotic, thrilling world of the HF pileup. When a rare station or a Parks On The Air (POTA) activator goes on the air, dozens or even hundreds of operators might try to make contact at the exact same time. Working a pileup is an art that takes time to master. Whether you are the one calling CQ from a park in Nebraska or the one hunting a rare DX station, success relies on rhythm, frequency management, and a deep understanding of human behavior.

One of the most important strategies is to determine the operating style of the DX station, specifically discerning how that operator scans the pileup for the next station to work. With modern waterfall displays, that process is MUCH easier. As an example, I worked the Temotu DXpedition (H40RH) that had just started a few hours prior to my attempt. I broke through with only five calls into the pileup, and it took me a mere 60 seconds to call and get an answer. Of course, I first listened and watched the waterfall for about five minutes to get a hang of the operating style of H40RH. This was on 10 Meters where 28.026 MHz was the DX frequency. We callers spread out five to 15 kHz UP in frequency from the DX station because we never want to cover up the DX station with our own signals. Even with a long carrier of intentional interference visible on the waterfall, the visual aid of the SDR made the catch possible. Temotu was a new country for my DXCC, so I am incredibly pleased to have made the contact!

When You Are the Hunted (The Activator)

A Guide To Survive The Pileup

When you are the station that everyone wants in their logbook, you are the conductor of the orchestra. If the pileup senses hesitation, chaos ensues. You must dictate the pace, for both CW and SSB operations.

Controlling the Pileup on CW

Establish a Predictable Rhythm: Your CQ, your exchange, and your QRZ should follow a strict pattern. Consistency allows hunters to time their calls perfectly. If you change your cadence, the pileup gets messy.

Run Split for Large Piles: If the pileup merges into a single continuous drone, go split immediately. You might send “UP 1” to tell callers to transmit one kilohertz above your listening frequency. This spreads the callers out. Send your “UP” frequently enough that the self-appointed pileup police do not take over your transmit frequency. I suggest sending “UP” after each successful logged contact (QSO).

Own the Partials: If you only pull “NW7” out of the noise, send “NW7?”. Do not send “QRZ?” immediately. Stick to that partial call until that specific station finishes the exchange. If they fade out, clearly send “QRZ?” to reset the pile.

Adjust Speed to Control Volume: A slight speed increase (bumping up 3 to 5 WPM) will naturally thin the pileup down to the more experienced operators. Dropping your speed will invite the newer operators back in.

Receiver Management: Back off your RF gain and use a wider filter than you might expect (around 400 to 500 Hz). A filter that is too narrow will cause you to miss the operators who are smartly calling slightly off-frequency.

Controlling the Pileup on SSB

Command with Your Voice: Speak clearly and maintain a steady, authoritative tone. Avoid shouting. Just like in CW, a predictable rhythm helps callers know exactly when to key their microphones.

Use Standard Phonetics: Stick strictly to the standard NATO phonetic alphabet (Alpha, Bravo, Charlie). Cute or custom phonetics confuse operators who do not speak English as their first language.

Acknowledge and Isolate: When multiple voices blur together, listen for the last phonetic letter you can understand. If you hear “Sierra,” say “The station ending in Sierra, go ahead.” Ignore everyone else until that station completes the contact.

My POTA / Portable HF station (a low-power, or, QRP, station).

When You Are the Hunter (The Chaser)

When you are trying to break through a massive wall of sound, raw output power is secondary to timing and sharp observation.

Breaking the Pileup on CW

Listen First, Key Second: Before touching the paddle, listen to three or four complete exchanges. If the activator is working split, figure out their pattern. Are they tuning from the bottom up? Top down? Find where they listened last, and place your transmit frequency just above it.

Use XIT (The Golden Rule): Never perfectly zero-beat the DX station if others are calling. To the activator, three zero-beat stations merge into a single tone. Use your Transmitter Incremental Tuning (XIT) to shift your transmit frequency by 30 to 50 Hz. This slight difference in pitch makes your signal pop out of the receiver passband.

Time the Tail-End: Wait for the massive wall of sound to begin fading, and send your call exactly as the main group finishes. A perfectly timed tail-end call lets your suffix ring out in the clear.

Send Once: When the DX sends “QRZ?”, send your callsign exactly once and listen. Sending your call multiple times just causes interference and slows down the entire operation.

Follow Instructions: If the DX sends “NW7?”, and that is not you, keep your hand off the key. Transmitting over the station they are trying to work only prolongs the pileup for everyone.

Breaking the Pileup on SSB

Study the Cadence: Just like with Morse code, listen to the activator to find the rhythm. Wait for the exact moment the activator stops speaking before you key up.

Drop Your Call and Wait: Say your full callsign once using standard phonetics, then unkey and listen. If you are tail-ending, you might just drop the last two letters of your callsign precisely as the noise floor drops.

Adjust Your Pitch: If you have equalization controls on your radio, boost the mid-to-high frequencies on your microphone audio. A slightly punchy and higher-pitched voice will cut through the bass-heavy rumble of a dozen other stations calling at once.

Working a pileup tests your patience and your ear. Whether you are tapping out Morse code or speaking into a microphone, the operator who listens more than they transmit almost always makes the contact first.

Propagation and the Pile-Up

As many of you know, I was the space weather and radio propagation columnist in CQ Amateur Radio Magazine from 2001 through its demise. I strongly advocate for all HF radio operators to understand the basics of radio wave propagation on shortwave frequencies. There are a lot of myths and frankly, horrific theories on how radio waves propagate.

Understanding how the ionosphere refracts radio waves is a crucial tactical advantage. The behavior of a pile-up changes dramatically based on the frequency band you choose and the current mood of our sun.

The Sun Dictates the Rules

The ionosphere is charged by solar radiation. When solar activity is high, higher frequencies become usable for long distances.

Solar Flux Index: The SFI is a great indicator of overall ionization. A higher SFI means better conditions for the higher HF bands. When the SFI climbs, bands like 15, 12, and 10 meters open up globally.

Geomagnetic Storms: Measured by the K-index, these storms can disrupt communications entirely. A high K-index often absorbs signals crossing the polar regions. This can suddenly mute a massive European pile-up for North American operators.

Fading: The ionosphere is always shifting. Signals will constantly rise and fall in strength, which is known as QSB. A smart chaser listens for the rhythm of this fade and throws their callsign into the pile-up exactly when the band peaks for their specific location.

How Bands Shape the Pile-Up

Every amateur radio band has its own personality. The pile-ups you encounter will reflect these differences perfectly.

10, 12, and 15 Meters: These high bands are daytime frequencies that thrive on high solar activity. When 10 meters opens up, signals can be astonishingly loud with very low atmospheric noise. Pile-ups here can ignite suddenly and stretch very wide across the frequency spectrum.

20 Meters: This is the traditional workhorse band for global communication. Pile-ups on 20 meters are massive, sustained, and densely packed. You will often compete with high-power stations and massive beam antennas on this frequency day or night.

40 and 80 Meters: These low bands come alive at night. They are heavily affected by atmospheric noise and static crashes. Breaking a pile-up here requires an exceptionally well-tuned ear and the ability to pull faint CW tones or muffled voices out of a very high noise floor.

The Skip Zone Effect

The propagation of radio waves.

One of the most confusing aspects of a pile-up for a new operator is the skip zone. Radio waves bounce off the ionosphere and return to earth far away, which means they skip right over the geographic areas in between. You might hear the DX station perfectly, but you might not hear the hundreds of other operators calling them because those callers are inside your skip zone. This phenomenon is exactly why you must rely on the DX station’s cadence rather than waiting to hear the pile-up clear.

While raw power is often cited as the key to breaking a pile-up, your antenna system plays a far more decisive role in your overall effectiveness. A directional antenna, like a Yagi or a hexbeam, not only focuses your transmitted energy directly toward the DX station but also actively rejects interfering signals from other directions. However, do not be discouraged if you are running a simple wire antenna. A well-placed dipole or end-fed half-wave can still break monumental pile-ups if you leverage good timing, exploit the skip zone, and listen closely to the DX operator. Ultimately, the best antenna in the world cannot compensate for poor operating habits.

Over to You

Working a pile-up is one of the most rewarding challenges in amateur radio. It tests your patience, refines your ear, and forces you to understand both the science of radio wave propagation and the psychology of your fellow operators. Every massive wall of sound is a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Now, I would love to hear from you. What was your most memorable pile-up experience? Do you have a specific tactic that consistently helps you break through the noise, or perhaps a frustrating moment that taught you a valuable lesson? Drop your stories and questions in the comments below, and let us keep the conversation going.

From my shack to yours, 73 de NW7US.

I started in the ham radio and shortwave listening hobby in 1972. By 1975, this was my first real receiver. It heard very well, and ignited my lifelong passion for radio.

The R-366/TRR-5 military receiver.

This old radio, the R-366/TRR-5, which is clearly identified on the faceplate in this picture of the military rig, had great ears. It was what I used to hone my Morse code copying skills and to get the hang of how amateur radio operators conducted communications with each other, with CW, AM, or SSB. I hope someday to own one once again.

The R-366

The R-366/TRR-5 is a significant piece of military history manufactured for the Navy Department Bureau of Ships by the Espey Manufacturing Company. Built during an era when the United States Navy required absolute reliability for ship to shore and ship to ship communications, the unit is a testament to the rugged industrial design of the mid-twentieth century. Often referred to as part of the TRR-5 receiving set, this equipment frequently incorporated high quality components and precision engineering including the gold standard Collins Radio Company designs of that period. These internal components were vital in providing the remarkable stability and selectivity needed to pull weak signals out of the dense electronic noise environment found on a crowded naval vessel. It did have heterodyne squeals on a select few frequencies, which any old tube receiver was prone to have, but those did not detract from the excellent capability of the radio.

The Service

For the sailors and radio operators serving aboard ships in the 1950s and 1960s these receivers were far more than just tools for duty. In the often cramped and isolated conditions of life at sea these radios served as a critical psychological anchor. Access to the bands meant hearing the familiar sounds of home or tuning into MARS stations where amateur radio operators facilitated phone patches that reconnected sailors with their families. This bridge to the outside world was essential for maintaining morale and supporting the mental health of military personnel who were otherwise cut off from the rhythms of civilian life for months at a time. Sitting in the radio shack and slowly tuning that large central dial while listening to the crackle of the ionosphere was a meditative escape from the constant hum of shipboard operations. Many ships would pipe ball games and news shows, or music programs, over the ships intercomms, providing health and morale to the personnel.

Operating the Radio

The tactile experience of operating this specific receiver remains vivid in my memory. The layout with its distinct knobs for selectivity phasing and BFO control was designed for the hands of a professional radio operator who needed to manipulate the signal in real time. It required a disciplined ear and a steady hand to copy Morse code through heavy atmospheric conditions but that struggle made every successful reception feel deeply rewarding. It taught me the patience and technical appreciation that have defined my amateur radio hobby for decades. Owning and using a piece of history like this represented a connection to the generations of operators who stood the watch before me.

Traveling the World…

With this historic military receiver, I discovered an entire world as a child in the mid 1970s. I spent countless nights in the quiet darkness of my room with only the warm orange and yellow glow from the vacuum tubes leaking out of the back and top grills and slots of the radio enclosure, as those hot tubes cast soft light on the ceiling and walls. That radio allowed me to travel the globe from my listening position often sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of this big rig. Those late night listening sessions, when I should have been sleeping, ignited a lifelong passion for understanding the vast and interconnected world of shortwave radio as well as medium-wave DXing. I heard International Shortwave Broadcast stations as well as AM broadcast stations from Europe, Asia, the South Pacific, the Atlantic regions, South America, Central America, and North America–all over the world! I listened to amateur radio operators on Morse code, SSB, and AM modes. Ships at sea, aircraft doing transoceanic flights, fishing vessels comms where fishing captains would chat with other boat captains, and even military communications were all at my fingertips on the dial of the radio as I listened to these exotic places by headphones. I even picked up a station from Peru, South America late one night, on the mediumwave broadcast band. That is how great that receiver could hear. Of course, I had a very excellent outdoor dipole antenna that was cut for 160 meters.

What Receiver Was Your First?

What was your first major receiver? Was it just a receiver, or was it a transceiver? When was that? What did you hear that captured your imagination? Do you still have that radio?
I hope to someday have this R-366/TRR-5, once again.

~ Happy DX!
NW7US

Before modern radio broadcasting, the trails were being blazed both in public broadcast, but also critical links out of the local area. Here’s a side-look back in time…. in this 1939 Film: New Zealand Shortwave Communications; Morse code (CW)

The romance of the radiotelegraph service (in this video, the service in New Zealand) is a fascinating aspect of communication history. The use of shortwave, longwave, and medium frequency spectrum for communication, particularly through Morse code, played a significant role in connecting people across vast distances. This service utilized the high-frequency spectrum known as “shortwave” (from 3 MHz up to 30 MHz) as well as the longwave (30 kHz to 300 kHz) and medium frequency spectrum (300 kHz to 3 MHz).

This short film is from 1939, and captures the essence of communication at that time in history, to and from New Zealand using shortwaves and Morse code. It showcases the importance of the radiotelegraph service in enabling long-distance communication during that era. The transition from Morse code via spark-gap communications to continuous wave (CW) modulation marked a significant advancement in the technology and efficiency of radio communication.

It’s incredible to see how technology has evolved over the years, transforming the way we communicate and connect with each other globally. Films like these provide a glimpse into the past and remind us of the ingenuity and dedication of those who worked in the radiotelegraph service to ensure effective communication across the seas.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-KUat5WEkU[/embedyt]

This film is a 1939 Government film scanned to 2K from a 16mm combined B/W reduction print.

SOME INFORMAL THOUGHTS ON WORKING CW DX

Recently, I came across some questions another amateur radio operator posed to a group of CW enthusiasts. Since I have an interest in Morse code, I thought I would explore these questions:

— begin quote —

1. When chasing some particular CW DX station needed for my DXCC punch-list, what are some things(s) that one can do to improve one’s chances of snagging that DX contact amidst a congested pileup? Is it truly the luck of the draw or roll of the dice? Or are there some time tested methods, less than obvious, that the experienced CW DX chasers have used that seem to improve one’s chances of snagging the DX contact? Yes, I’m aware that there are many variables to consider. I’m just looking for some general suggestions to improve my odds of success based on the experience of others.

2. If, let’s say, a DX station appends “UP 1” or “QSX 2” to his CQ call or just “UP” appears in a DX cluster spot listing, what is considered an acceptable amount of “UP”? I’m amazed sometimes at the amount of “UP” that I hear. LOL. Does a hefty amount of “UP” actually improve one’s chances? What does the DX op expect?

3. After a DX station sends their callsign how long should one wait to reply with one’s callsign? I hear stations respond immediately. But sometimes I hear others wait just a “bit”, and then respond to DX. And sometimes when the DX station is responding to a chosen station, other callers are STILL calling the DX op. What do most DX operators expect with regard to the response of a reply? Immediate? One-Mississippi …?

4. I hear stations reply to DX with their callsign once. Others sometimes twice. If I send my callsign twice I run the risk that the DX station has already begun his reply back to me with my sig-report while I’m still in the midst of sending my 2nd callsign reply. So … I should send my call just once?

— end quote–

Great questions!  And, the answers translate over to working DX pileups on voice, too.

Here are some of my off-the-cuff remarks, based on my limited experience DXing since 1990:
(I am an avid DXer, with 8BDXCC, etc.)

1. Listen, Listen, Listen: The DX station typically does work split – the DX station on, say, 14.023 MHz, and the DX station is listening anywhere from 14.028 to 14.033 (up 5 to 10). You first, of course, need to listen to the DX station, but, also to hear the stations that are calling the DX station! The trick is to be able to hear some of the stations that are piling up on the DX, and to determine if the DX is working a station, then tunes up a little, or down a little, from the frequency on which the last caller was chosen.

Once you know this, you want to position your signal so that the DX operator tunes to or very near where you are transmitting your signal. If the DX station does not call you but continues in the same tuning direction, you reposition your transmit frequency (always in the pileup window) and try again. If you do not know where the DX station is listening next, and especially if you cannot HEAR the DX station, you are calling blind and are in for a long effort.

If you have a way to see the waterfall at and around the DX frequency, you can often see the general spread of “UP” where the callers congregate. When listening (and, let me tell you, listening is key) to the DX station, watch the waterfall for the responding caller (the station in the pile-up calling the DX), as sometimes it is very obvious who is answering the DX. Watch this exchange for a number of new callers – and get a sense of HOW the DX operator is moving through the pile-up. Anticipate where the DX might listen next. Choose that “next frequency in the pattern of movement” and use that as your calling frequency.

2. Timing your call: this takes a bit of effort. I typically listen to my chosen transmit frequency, trying to call never at the exact same time as others, on or near my calling frequency.

3. I always send my callsign TWICE… something like this:

DX: DX1ABC UP
ME: NW7US NW7US
DX: NW7US 5NN
ME: R R NW7US 5NN TU
DX: NW7US TU, DX1ABC UP

There are some fine CW-oriented DXing books, PDFs, and websites that talk about this. For instance:

http://sota-dl.bplaced.net/articles/cw_chasing_tips_for_newcomers.pdf

https://www.cadxa.org/getting-started-in-dxing.html

I hope this personal observation of mine about working a Morse code pileup is helpful in some way.

73 de NW7US
https://NW7US.us

..

 The Perfect Bug?

BUT... If we are ham radio operators regularly doing CW, then we spend a lot of time with a morse key under our hand.  I've said this previously, but when you are a CW operator you touch your key more than anything else related to the hobby.  You are moving it many hundreds to thousands of times as you send code.  Your keying becomes part of you and you are intrinsically linked with the ease or difficulty of operating the key for hours at a time.

A New Design

I've not had the chance to try the GHD fully automatic bugs, nor their bugs that use optical contacts.  That would be interesting, but they still fundamentally follow the Vibroplex model.

Preparing for Use

The Intrepid ships with a cable but there's nothing to plug it into on the key.  It's up to the owner to solder the connections.  I understand that some transceivers require different plug wiring but in general they are fairly common.  Be prepared to spend some time soldering under the key to wire it up.

I had some spare 1/8" plugs for projects, and with some heat shrink tubing and a couple pieces of wire I created a tidy connector for the male to male cable shipped with the key.

In Use

I spent about 2 hours practice sending into the practice oscillator that I built.   I had a Vibroplex Deluxe Bug next to it that I alternated with.  The range of DIT speeds on the Intrepid is impressive.  Other makers like Vizkey have created bugs with a similar range of adjustment, and the Deluxe Bug I use has a Vari-Speed that can match the Intrepids speed range, bu the Intrepid is easier to quickly adjust and more importantly can be done one-handed.  It will comfortably go from about 15 wpm up to 35 wpm and with the dwell adjustment makes changing speeds and keeping the DIT dwell correct, is singular.  I don't think any bug can match it in that respect.

It did require a change in how I operate.  The Vibroplex Bug fingerpieces stick out further and I have the habit of placing my index finger out over the top of the Bug.  The Intrepid doesn't allow for that.  I have to curl my index finger down to avoid hitting the bracing for the pendulum.

Because there is less mass in the pendulum it operates with a much lighter touch than Vibroplex Bug.  The pendulm movement is initated with less force and due to the isolation of the pendulum from the paddles you don't feel the pendulum moving as you do with a Vibroplex.  I kinda like the feedback I get from Vibroplex pendulum.  The Intrepid feels more like a single paddle key with an electronic keyer than a bug.

Because of the how the lever is split in the middle, the actual DAH contact is almost dead center in the key rather than toward the front.  It is far closer to the DIT contact than a bug.  I have no way to describe it other than to say it feels as if the DAH and DIT operations are more similar than they are different.

I tend to pivot at my wrist when I operate a Vibroplex bug, to control the timing of DIT to DAH transitions.  That doesn't seem to be as necessary with the Intrepid.  Again, it feels more like a paddle than a Bug.

The DIT contact is a sprung plunger that is always centered.  This is one of the biggest problem areas on a Vibroplex Bug and Begali has masterfully designed the proper contact.  Most Bug operators spend more time adjusting the U-spring to try and get proper contact than any other part of the key.  I assume this level of precision is just not something that Vibroplex wanted to spend the time on in manufacturing.

You'll notice there are spare holes.  I assume they are to allow the frame to be used for left handed operation.

The weights are easy to adjust but I have found that the set screws don't bite the pendulum as firmly as a Vibroplex bug and I have had them come loose a few times. When they accidently come loose they flop to one side and touch the frame, completing the circuit, resulting in a continous carrier. I'm a bit concerned about leaving the bug connected unattended to my tranceiver and having one flop over into transmit while I'm not at the station.

The laser etching is nicely done.  The model name can appear, white, gray or black depending on the angle of light.

The pendulum is hinged at the back of the key, making easy access to the adjustment weights.

Conclusions?

This is a very fine piece of engineering.  It will take me months to decide if stick with it over a Vibroplex Bug, but for now I'm thinking it was a fine birthday gift.

That's all for now

So lower your power and raise your expectations.

Rich, AA4OO https://hamradioqrp.com