T.L.C...Army style...

In a sense you might think you know what this article is about, but, no, it's not necessarily the kind of T.L.C. your Grandma used to give you. This is the kind your Command Sergeant Major gives you!

It seems that back in the late 80's and early 90's, the Army was losing a lot of mid-grade NCOs and promoting the lower-grade NCOs, putting them in platoon sergeant assignments. They were then taking Specialists and moving them up the ladder to Buck Sergeant. This is good for them, well for most of them. However, we were noticing that an unsettling number of these young Soldiers really didn't have the training, savy or Soldier skills to do the job. They might have had their "ticket punched" (i.e. they went to some development schools, or took some admin. courses), but those of us at the top saw that they just didn't have "it." Those of you who have been in the Army for more than just a whistle stop know what "it" is. Promotion boards were pretty much just paper shuffles, and if someone put up a big stink about someone getting promoted, the Board would just promote and move the soldier to another unit, hoping a change of scenery would fix things. We lost some good Soldiers that way and occasionally got some real dirt bags in exchange.

Well, in order to fix this, we put together a NCO development course of our own. The Brigade Commander didn't know about it, and probably wouldn't have approved if he had. We figured this was one of those "Better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission" deals. We just hoped no one got seriously hurt, because the Army at that time frowned on this kind of creativity and imagination.

Our CSM kicked this program off, bringing the candidates from all of our units to our BN HQ for the first two quarter's drills. During this time, we worked with them on such things as understanding commander's intent and OPORDS, writing patrol orders, conducting squad drills as well as inspections and maintenance, and briefing techniques. Then during the third quarter, the troops worked on marksmanship, and improving (or starting to learn) their fieldcraft. Remarkably, this was a glaring shortcoming in a lot of our MPs. Most of these young recruits came from less-than-rural areas like Columbus, Toledo, Cincinnati, Cleveland and Dayton. They were city kids and never had an introduction to field life until they went thru basic training. That was just survival, not really learning how to live as a soldier in the field. Even worse, they didn't know how to take care of troops in the field. Well, guess what -- the CSM and other senior NCOs "learned them a thing or two!" The last quarter was conducted at Ft. McCoy, WI and really challenged their ability to put everything they had learned during the past year into practice. When they successfully completed the last phase (and got a whole day's sleep), we held a pinning ceremony. All of these Soldiers had already been boarded and "technically" were already promoted. However, they didn't get their stripes until they went thru the ceremony. Those of you old Soldiers who remember getting your stripes know that we had a pretty big box of band-aids on hand. This was our way of preparing Soldiers to become real NCOs.

I think back to that every once in a while and get a smile when I think about one particular session. It seems that the way the CSM was going to work on their fieldcraft was to conduct a mini-FTX for them. It began on a very cold, rainy night at the Center in Zanesville. One thing you can always count on in the field is it always rains on soldiers. Rainstorms will travel thousands of miles, against prevailing winds for the opportunity to rain on a Soldier in the field (remember the old saying "If it ain't raining, you ain't training.") The troops had to march out to the field site (about 10 miles) in full gear. Once they got to the site, they had to set up their base camp and get ready for their first assignment. There were several night land navigation exercises, patrol orders to be written and briefed, and weapons to be cleaned and inspected. After a very short couple of hours of sleep, they got started on their next task -- getting ready for their first field meal. At just about that time, the OP SGM pulled up in his mother-in-law's car, popped the trunk and threw out a dozen live chickens. Yep, that was dinner, or at least the main course. The idea was to teach them how to field dress a chicken, put some potatoes and carrots with it and make a kind of chicken dinner for one. Well, I'm not sure most of these young Soldiers had ever seen a live chicken, let alone grasp the idea that they would have to kill it in order to eat it. The CSM asked if any of them knew how to kill a chicken and dress it out. One young Soldier (they called him "Boat") said he knew, and proceeded to draw a line on the ground and grabed his chicken and stuck its head near the line. Well, the chicken then gave him that "what am I supposed to do now, bub" look and everyone broke out laughing. "Boat" then tried to snap the chicken's neck, and learned a little about chicken necks. That didn't work either, so with the chicken looking like it was on a five hour drug high, "Boat" stepped on it's neck thinking he would suffocate it. Somehow, he forgot it had been raining since last night and the ground was pretty muddy and that chicken's neck just kept going deeper into the mud. "Boat" grabbed the neck on either side of his boot and started pulling. Maybe he thought he would stretch the neck until the thing died. At this point, the chicken was going spastic, troops were rolling on the ground laughing, others were beginning to think this was going to turn into a cult thing. Thinking that he had better get things under control, the CSM took charge and showed them how to get this done. Next came the cleaning and taking the feathers off. The CSM told them to get some water in a pot and get it boiling hot. Well they did this, but didn't get the water much above luke warm, because when they tried to dunk the chickens to work on the feathers, it didn't work very well. The CSM told me they had soaked chickens and tried to pull things off in every direction, resulting in feathers flying everywhere -- all over themselves, in their equipment and stuck to their helmets and weapons. It was the most hilarious thing any of those troops had ever seen.

In true Army tradition, they eventually got things finished, policed the area and prepared their evening meal. They were then instructed to hit the sack. They could, if they wanted, build a little camp fire by their individual tents, but remember it had been raining most of the weekend. Oh yeah, and how is it that one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a wet campfire? Well, they gave it a good try and as the CSM, the other NCOs and I stood on the hill top overlooking their little bivouac area, there were little tents, little camp fires, lots of smoke and very tired troops down there in the holler -- kind of looked like what some of the Civil War bivouac sites must have looked like.

You know what -- some of those young troops are now the senior leaders in the NCO ranks in the Brigade. I don't think we permanently scared any of them, and they sure turned out to be fine Soldiers and leaders.

Things like this are what I miss most about not being in the Army any more.

Bivouac: The art of getting closer to becoming a SOLDIER while getting farther away from the nearest cold beverage, hot shower and flush toilet.

Hooah

Were you born in a barn...

I don't know how many times my mom would say that when I would come in and forget to shut the door completely. I think that's a standard admonishment all mothers used when we were growing up.

So what does that have to do with this column? Well, Pam and I rented a "barn" in Buck's county, PA about a month ago for a weekend get-away for us and Doug, Danika and Quinn. It seems Doug found this place on line and we thought, what the heck. It looked good in the pictures, and the area is such a beautiful place. The leaves here were turning bright shades of red and orange, and the outlook was pretty good in terms of weather -- well, except for that tiny, little group of clouds way down in Georgia. We were all set for a beautiful fall weekend. Yeah, yeah -- you guessed it -- it rained most of the weekend, but we had a great time none-the-less. The rains stopped long enough each day for us to get out and take walks along the Delaware River canal, and out in the 80 acres of woods and fields. Generally the temperatures were cool except for the last day we were there, the day after Doug, Danika and Quinn left to go back to the city. Go figure.

The place lived up to its billing. It was one of the coolest places I have seen for a while. The old barn, built in the 1800s actually has a house inside it, complete with glass ceilings. The first floor is all kitchen and the living area is upstairs. The floors are original wood planks, and the place is heated by three wood-burning stoves, and a supplemental furnace system. The owners have taken care of the place, and it really is quite nice. They also have two donkeys, two sheep and a potbellied pig. Quinn got his first taste of farm animals up close and personal.

As we explored the various parts of the "barn," we came across a copy of Better Homes and Gardens from 1980 which featured this place on the cover, complete with a big spread inside. Funny, the kitchen looked exactly the same -- same appliances, table, lots of the same things hanging on the walls. the upstairs looked pretty much the same except the furniture had been replaced and modernized a bit. We also found out that the the man of the house was a former Olympic Champion in the 1964 8-man rowing at the Tokyo Olympics. We saw his pictures and the oar he used in the race. I have to say, that was pretty cool.

Pam and I really got to know our grandson. He intently stared at the TV when we watched a DVD about farm animals -- his favorite for now. He is like a sponge, taking everything in. As much as he liked the video, he was fascinated by the real animals, and enjoyed walking in the fields (although he fell down a few times because he's not used to the unevenness of the ground and grasses). He woke up in the mornings and would crawl around on our bed, looking at things, taking in all the strange sounds and smells. He also really liked the whirlpool tub at bath time. No whirlpool, just a great place to splash and get everyone wet. What a treat this time was for the two of us.

We did experience a tale of two seasons on the way there and home. It snowed as we got into the mountains on the way there. In fact, they had a reported 9" of the white stuff up in Happy Valley, ruining the tailgating for the Penn State game that weekend. But then, as I said, it was absolutely beautiful on the last day we were there and the next day as we drove back to Ohio.

Those of you who have done these types of road trips will understand this. The drive over is filled with anticipation, kind of like that proverbial box of chocolates. And the drive home is a quiet blur for the first three or four hours, sometimes longer if the co-pilot gets out the camera to review pictures. Everything in the middle is like having a bowling alley in your brain.

What greater thing is there for human beings than to feel that they are joined with each other for life - if in no other way than silent, unspeakable memories.

Hooah

A Most Rewarding Trip...

Well, I am just about finished with the close-out details of our most recent "World War II Veterans to Washington DC" which took place Sept. 25-27. I must say, this was one of the most rewarding non-family things I have been involved with in a while.

I know, if you've been reading this blog, you're probably wondering if I got the dates mixed up. No, I didn't. I did not actually go on the "trip." With the death of Wink's son, the viewing and the funeral all happening then, I did not go. But, I suppose if you do a good job with all your tasks, the trip will go on without you. Guess what -- it did.

I became involved with this group in early August and hit the ground running. There really is a lot of work in getting twenty-six 80+ year-old WWII Vets to DC and back over a 3-day weekend so they can see their memorial. Kinda reminds me of moving troops to some distant post. There is still a lot of interaction with people: raising funds, securing meals/transportation/medical assistance, taking care of personnel matters, and so forth. Everyone involved is a volunteer but they really function like staff officers, you know S-1, S-2, S-3, S-4, etc.

Let me tell you some of the highlights. We spent lots of time raising funds and passing out literature at Wal-Mart, Krogers, the Farmer's Market, and the Applefest. I have a whole new respect for Salvation Army bell ringers. I also introduced a sponsorship program that ended up getting 14 of the Vets sponsored thru a Memorial Donor. We also coordinated with the local schools to get students to write letters to the Vets for "Mail Call." Part of this also included having letters from relatives, the people on the committee, and friends. These letters were packaged up and given to the Vets on the bus.

Oh, yeah, we took a bus. There are other groups that do this and they fly, but they do it in one long, long, long day which is pretty hard on these old folks. Our bus trip over three days is quite a bit easier on them. It does add to our logistic issues, however. We take a wheel chair for each Vet and most of their travel companions. Some of them think they can walk everywhere, and then after about 10 minutes at the monuments in DC, they are pretty happy to have a ride.

We have several dinners for them. One is the pre-departure meal where they get their "mobilization orders." We also have two dinners for them in the DC area, after which they get to sit around and talk about the day, and their experiences (if they want to -- which most do).

We have a committee that organizes a special send-off and one that receives them when they get back. When they leave, school kids from the Sidney Middle School come out and line the road (which is also lined to the interstate with US flags) to waive good-bye to the group. The buses are escorted by a motorcycle group from Sidney to Troy.

So, this trip is now over, and guess what -- it's time to start planning for the next one. The first piece of action the group took was to appoint me their chairman, so now, I'm spending a lot of my retirement time working on this. And you know what --this is cutting in to my golfing time!! Sheesh!! Ah, what the heck, I like this kind of stuff, and the old Vets really do deserve it. Never lose sight of the fact that old age needs so little but needs that little so much (Margaret Willour).

"I do not love the bright sword for it's sharpness, nor the arrow for it's swiftness, but rather the warrior for his glory and that which they defend."

Hooah

A little Charlie Brown tree...

Today, four of us old timers put down a final marker for a fallen Soldier. Barney, Bob, Wink and I placed a flag and a plaque at the base of an Autumn Sunset maple tree that we had planted in memory of Wink's son, SPC Damon Winkleman who was killed in Afghanistan in September (See article below).

My wife, Pam, and I thought it would be nice to plant a tree for Damon rather than get flowers. So, we shared our idea with some of our Army buddies and 13 of them responded favorably. I'm sure we could have had more, but this worked out fine and got the ball rolling. We had the tree planted at Damon's high school in Loudenville because we thought that would be a place the students, faculty and citizens of this beautiful little town would visit almost daily, a place they would see this reminder that our freedom is not without a price, and sometimes it's borne by the sons and daughters of people from small towns like this. We are hoping they respect this site for what it is -- not a political statement, not a pro or con on anything -- just a remembrance of SPC Winkleman and what he did for us.

I want to thank the Superintendent of the Loudenville Schools, Mr. John Miller. I have known John for a long time and appreciate his assistance.

It was good that Barney (a retired CSM), Bob (a retired 1SG) and his wife, Polly, Jim (still serving as a 1SG), Wink (still serving as an OPNS SGM), and my wife Pam and I were able to get together to do this. Afterward, we all sat around a table at the local diner, had lunch and told old stories (some we've told before I'm sure) and just maybe brought some laughs to what was otherwise a dreary but proud day.

The way I figure it, this tree will last about 45-50 years or so, telling its story to those who will listen. What better place than a school to put this reminder of this Damon's life and this testament to his courage and compassion. I hope the tree grows strong and turns that brilliant shade of redish-orange in the fall that Damon liked. If you look at it right now, shivering in its new home, complete with its remaining 3 leaves, it looks like it has a ways to go. But I'm sure it will do just fine.

Let no vandalism of avarice or neglect, no ravages of time, testify to the present or to the coming generations, that we have forgotten, as a people, the cost of a free and undivided Republic. (John A. Logan)

Hooah

This was a tough one...

I have been putting off writing this because it's still close.

When I got home from the golf tournament, Pam told me I had to call Wink... he had just called to tell us that his youngest son, Damon, had been killed in Afghanistan. My God, I know how this hit me -- I can't even begin to know how he and his wife, Pat, were taking it. How is one supposed to feel when he loses a son. I have known this family for a very long time and served with Wink (SGM Winkleman) for probably 20 some years. I know military families have faced this for centuries, but it always rips you up when it's this close. All Soldiers think they're Superman, 7-ft. tall and bullet proof, and old Soldiers, especially, think if anything ever does happen, it will happen to them and not the younger guys.

SPC Winkleman was a medic with a unit of the 82d ABN and was responding to a call for help from a unit that was under fire. The vehicle he was riding in turned over, killing him and another Soldier and seriously injuring the other two in the vehicle. According to reports from those who were there, this roll-over stopped the rest of the convoy and they subsequently came under fire. When they were able to get back to their vehicles, they discovered the rest of the road in front of them was mined. If their vehicle had not overturned, perhaps the entire convoy would have been lost.

When the military got the body back to Ohio that Tuesday, the route the motorcade took to their hometown was lined with people with flags, cars pulled over and people standing beside the road. When they got back to the town, I was told everyone in the town came out to line the streets, including all the young people in the schools. The funny thing is, I think aside from paying their respects, every one of those people really knew Damon. He was a good kid, a normal kid, the kind of young man small-town America grows and is proud of -- the kind who answers the call and says "Send Me."

I've been sitting here for a while with my fingers on the keyboard, not knowing what else to say...what else I can say. I know... I believe... Damon is in a much better place right now, but I also know Wink and Pat, his brothers Jason and Nathan, their families, and the people of their community are all still hurting. They say time will heal this, and their faith will get them through it, but I don't know if I would be as strong.

SPC Damon G. Winkleman

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. (Kahlil Gibran)

Hooah

Neighborhood Golf Outing #2...

Last week saw the second annual McCartyville area golf outing, a.k.a. "The Southenders vs. the Northenders vs. the Village People vs. the Featherfolks I, II, and III vs. the Eastringers."

If you remember last year's outing, there were only 3 teams, but word spread and since everyone had so much fun, things expanded greatly. This year, we added the Featherfolks teams and this worked out because all these guys are really on the west end of the village and not many of them were really very well known to the rest of us. The Eastringer team kinda stretched the idea of local residence, but all of those players are in the Rumley league and originally lived in McCartyville, so what the heck. The idea was to have fun.

My team, the Southenders, was defending its championship, but could only manage a 6-under par 66. That was four strokes better than last year, and seemed to be a response to the challenge of the Eastringers -- a team made up of one scratch player and three other pretty good golfers. But, alas, it was not enough. The Eastringers won on their first effort, shooting an 8-under 64.

The Village People managed to pull themselves out of the cellar (I think they were helped by a rule change for this year which allowed the seniors to hit from the senior tees). The "trophy" was taken home for the year by the Northenders who struggled to a +3 score of 75.

Final scores:
Eastringers (64).
Southenders (66).
Featherfolks #2 (69).
Featherfolks #3 (68).
Village People and Featherfolks #1 (71)
Northenders (75).

I guess the scores are not really important (unless yours is the bottom team). What is important is 28 neighborhood guys managed to get together for a fun afternoon of golf and fellowship. We also got to know each other a bit better. I expect we'll have at least two more teams next year and I think we'll also have some of the women teeing it up for an inaugural powder-puff outing.

Eighteen holes of match or medal play will teach you more about your neighbor than will 18 years of dealing with him across the back yard fence.

Hooah

Updating the landscape...

One of the things you learn quite early about living in the country is farmers grow crops and they almost always spray the fields with insecticides. Guess what -- the bugs figured that out too. So shortly after the fields are sprayed, like within a few hours or so, all those bugs leave and move in over at our house on the flowers, trees and the grass.

This year, they pretty much got our purple plum and the burning bushes out front. The guy at the nursery said the purple plum is susceptible to disease and will usually only last about 10 years or so. Hmmm ... let's see, we moved in in 1997 and planted in 1998 so it looks like we got to the "or so" part of its life. It really looks bare on that corner of the house right now. We planted a red bush that is supposed to get to a pretty decent size, and we'll do some other things there in the spring. But for now it looks quite different.

We decided to replace some things. In the process, we took out some things and discovered some local residents in the process. The little bunnies had been driving Pam crazy all spring eating the stems of the geraniums. We used a number of home-brew remedies to try to stop them (red pepper finally worked). Guess it got them to mating as opposed to eating. Anyway, there were three nests -- one in the lamb's ear, one in the sea grass and the one above. The first two took off when the guys started working. This guy must have thought he was safe since no one messed with the plant he chose to call home.

The burning bushes got the yank and were replaced by boxwoods. I really like them, they remind me of my time in D.C. Pam and I would visit the gardens at the National Cathedral on the weekends and they had real nice ones and they really smelled good.

You can see the new burning bushes over behind the birch trees. I think that will add a nice touch of color on that end of the house. We may also plant some ground flowers over there in the spring.

One of the things I have really come to enjoy in this thing called "retirement" is rocking in the chair on the porch, reading a good book, having Bailey lying at my feet, watching the birds (especially the hummingbirds) come and go, and seeing the butterflies battle the winds to get to the butterfly bushes. I like the deep red of the geraniums, the cool dark green of the grass, and the light leaves of the birches doing their dance in the breezes. I know those little bugs are still lurking, but it will be winter soon, and they'll get theirs...at least until next year when the cycle will start all over again.

The planting of things is the least self-centered thing we can do. It is a pure act of faith. We can't really control the outcome, and can only marginally influence the process ... kinda like raising a family. We can only plant and hope. I like this quote below..........

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy. Cares will drop off like autumn leaves. (John Muir)

Hooah