A thought from an old guy while having my morning coffee...When an old man dies, it is a whole library which burns.
(P.S...If you like an entry, feel free to leave a comment at the end of the article. If you don't like the entry, well, have a nice day.)
Yesterday was a good day in the radio hobby. I took my Extra Class test and passed it. The Extra Class license is the highest one a Ham operator can get and gives the operator quite a bit of growth room in terms of radio frequencies. Basically I now have a broader group of frequencies on which I can talk, look for other hams, and continue my efforts to "talk" to someone in every state. This also opens up the international search as the areas where the internationals often talk with us Yanks are less crowded at these new frequencies. So far, I have talked to a ham in Bulgaria and one in Romania, but now I'm gonna see what's out there. Also, I have also talked to a guy on an island off the coast of Maine, but I guess there are some who probably wouldn't consider that area as a foreign country.
I was a bit disappointed last night, however, as I fired up the rig when I got home from the club meeting thinking I would hear lots of Extra Class guys on the new frequencies. Ran through the dial a few times and switched to several bands, but nobody was on the air. Then I remembered, most of the Extra Class guys are pretty old. It was about 2230 hrs. Most of those guys have been in bed for 3 or 4 hours by now!!
Well, I'm looking forward to cruising the airwaves a bit more now. This is a pretty cool winter escape and it's good to talk to people in other areas.
Travels, whether mental or physical, are fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.(Mark Twain)
Hooah
One sidebar -- at the meeting last night, we were reviewing some communications from ham guys who went to Haiti last week to serve as emergency communications guys until they got their cell towers functional again. It seems that the one group was going around the country side looking for people and they were attacked by bandits who shot at them and tried to get their money and any other goods they could get to sell later. No one in the group was hurt, and they didn't lose anything to the bandits, but it certainly screwed up their efforts at helping people. I guess you have to be there to understand the situation.
We had an absolutely great Christmas this year. Doug, Danika and Quinn came here from New York as well as Randy and Margaret (Danika's folks) from North Carolina. The little guy is such a joy and certainly didn't disappoint us in the "smiles" category. Of course we got lots of pictures and thoroughly documented that wonderful morning. It was really funny watching him open his gifts -- sometimes the wrapping or the box got more attention than the contents. I seem to remember that with his daddy. He also liked playing with the manger, making the light (a.k.a star) come on while playing "Away in a manger..." several hundred times. He liked playing with the figures, and could say "Baby Jesus" by the time he left.
Oh, yeah, one other thing that was really neat, was this one picture that got snapped. Pam said it looked just like one of his dad when he was a baby. She hunted it down and found it in Doug's baby book. Quinn is 17 months, and Doug was 2 1/2 years old when this picture was taken. What do you think?
Pretty remarkable, huh. I guess this is one of those "the acorn didn't fall too far from the tree" things. If that's the case in other things too, Little Quinn will do alright in life.
The definition of a grandfather -- a fellow who has replaced the currency in his wallet with snapshots of his kids and grandkids, and hasn't lost a thing.
Getting ready to ring in the New Year the other night, a funny story from my deployment to Germany during Desert Storm popped into my mind. My combat support MP company was sent to Germany to provide backfill for VII Corps. Well, we got there in early December, and spent that month getting settled into our responsibilities, getting our German drivers' licenses, becoming familiar with the German roads through the mountains, and becoming acquainted with the locals and military dependents.
Some of the guys were invited to the homes of the dependents and/or locals for a Christmas dinner and some great cooking. This was really great, and certainly made the guys feel a bit better for having to be gone at this time of year. Some of them were still a bit upset at being sent to Germany as a backfill unit, as opposed to being sent to Saudi Arabia to be in the war effort there. But as I kept telling them, everyone has to be somewhere so here we are. All in all, I think they felt that they contributed quite a bit when it was all said and done. I know our higher-ups thought so.
Anyway, it seems that on that New Years eve, my senior NCOs and platoon leaders decided since all of our troops were taken care of, we needed some time off so they planned for a few hours that night to be spent at a local gasthaus in the town of Pirmasens. Everything had been extremely quiet for the past week so I thought this might be a good reward for them (and me too). It wasn't a very long walk to the town, down the side of a big hill (small mountain to us). It was just beginning to snow again; the lights of the town twinkled and the sound of the church bells in town singled it was time for church before the arrival of the new year. It was very peaceful, very serene.
We went in the gasthaus, had a few drinks, met some of the locals and played some pool. I didn't know much German, but we all had fun playing pool, winning some, losing some. It was getting close to midnight, and the bar tender asked us if we wanted a last drink...his treat. I thought that a bit odd, but what the heck. Then about 5 minutes before midnight, all of the locals left the place and the owner came out from behind the bar with a shot gun. I thought we were all in big trouble now. What had we done to tick him/them off? How were we gonna get out of this mess. Well, midnight hit, and all manner of gunfire starting going off in the streets. None of our guys moved for a while. Then the owner came back in and asked us if we wanted to go out and shoot..."to welcome in the new year." It seems that this is a very old tradition celebrated in Germany at new years. Well, we tried not to look too stupid!! I think he caught on to our "rookiness" and laughed a bit and offered us another drink -- on him, of course.
He told us that whatever wasn't drunk that night would be sold to the new owner who was going to take over operation of this establishment tomorrow. By the way, the new owner was going to turn it from a gasthaus into a "bar" (which, as I understand from his side of the story, means a house of ill-repute.).
Well, we took our leave and headed back to the post. That small hill seemed like a very large mountain going back, and the light, pretty snowfall had turned into a heavy, wet, blowing snow (which, by the way, hung around until later in the month).
I still think back to that time on new years eve and wonder what all those guys are doing, and how they are getting along in life.
Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man. (Benjamin Franklin)
Bullets, bombs, IEDs, and just plain accidents claimed most of the lives of American Soldiers in the war in Iraq. However, there is another lesser known killer which is just now manifesting itself in Soldiers who first served in the early days of the war, around 2004.
It seems that there was a lot of just plain hazardous stuff being burned every day all over the countryside. Most of the time, these burnings started out as simply destroying the day's trash and military papers and such. Then, as a lot of the war damage began to be cleared and cleaned out, something had to be done with all the rubble. That is when land fills popped up all over the place. After a while, true to the old Army saying, if it wasn't nailed down, it got burned. Unfortunately, the military wasn't the only one putting things in these burn pits, and it seemed that the things in there just burned forever. A lot of times, newer rubble would just be dumped on top of the old stuff, and this would prevent proper burning, resulting in smoldering, resulting in lots and lots of smoke. Ironically, the Iraqis would sometimes use this smoke to sight in their mortar fire and further add to the fires and burning. The smoke from these burn pits was very toxic, but no one really paid much attention to it because there were lots of more pressing issues at that time, like getting electricity going, and securing the roads so food and ammunition could get in to the bases. It shouldn't be that big of a deal, right. Well, the problem was that it seemed the winds always blew from the same direction, and troops were, in some cases, pretty stationary. Guards in towers, at gates and intersections, in their tents and mess halls -- all of these were pretty much stationary and pretty much had this stuff pumped into their lungs 24/7 for their whole tour.
The health issues caused by this smoke are just now getting looked at by VA personnel. I'm sure this was the case in Vietnam, and the I know it was an issue in the first Gulf War. I have seen articles in the Army Times talking about this issue and telling how Vets are presenting their issues to the VA and Congress. I hope this doesn't get pushed to the background. While not as up front, immediate or tragic as deaths from violent means, Soldiers are still going to die from this, only in a slower but just as painful certainty. Perhaps our newly-revised and consciously-awakened Veterans' Administration will look at this just as it will for other kinds of battle losses and take the appropriate action. They treat wounds, counsel for suicide issues, screen for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder issues, and try to work thru the family support, legal and divorce issues when the Soldiers come back from tours. Maybe they will start looking at this issue too.
Health is a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being, and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.(World Health Organization, 1948)
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.
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.
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."
