Charleston, #3...

A must see when visiting Charleston is the Ft. Sumter site.  I have done quite a bit of reading about the Civil War -- the battles and how things came about as they did.  So having the opportunity to actually visit Ft. Sumter was a real treat.

Obviously, what you see now is not what was the scene back then.  The Fort had been reduced to rubble, occupied, reoccupied, rebuilt, and abandoned.  So as it stands now, you have to use your imagination a good bit to really take in what it means to stand in such a place.  The Park Service is doing its best to maintain it, and the rangers who work there do a real nice job of talking to visitors about the site, the remains, the battles, and the progression of Ft. Sumter since the Civil War days and subsequent rebuilding.

The original walls of the fort were five stories tall prior to the start of the civil war.  But after the bombardment and siege, it was, for the most part,  reduced to rubble.  Here you can see the walls now and how the cannon ports were closed up to keep out the water.

This post card shows the Fort in various stages of destruction during the bombardment.  Also, here is an overhead shot from the internet which gives you an idea of the layout of the fort. Here is what it looks like today with the new area (new from the Spanish-American War!  The windows are new construction, but the black walled area is from that time period).

If you happened to be standing in the green area, over the flag in the picture above, you would be looking out into the ocean.

 One thing that happened quite often while we were visiting Charleston was my meeting veterans and talking to them.  Here I met a gentleman who was wearing a 4th ID hat.  I asked him about it and we talked about "stuff" for a while.  He introduced me to his son who was also in 4th ID in Iraq.  We talked for a while and it seems we could have crossed paths a few times over there.

So, it was quite an honor to be standing in the middle of this historic site.  As I looked around at the remaining walls, the powder/ammunition storage area, the shells of the officer's quarters and the firing ports that were still open to the sea, it just reinforced some of the things I had read about the ferocity, and the magnitude of the destruction that took place during that war.

As we left, the rangers had just lowered the flags, putting to rest the spirits of those who had once fought there. It was quite a visit, and quite an honor.  And as we sailed away from this hallowed place, I couldn't help but remember something I read once from Joshua Chamberlain, the commander of the famous "20th Maine" ... "Not once in a century are men permitted to bear such responsibilities for freedom and justice, for God and humanity, as are now placed upon us."

War loses a great deal of romance after a soldier has seen his first battle...It is a classical maxim that it is sweet and becoming to die for one's country; but whoever has seen the horrors of a battle-field feels that it is far sweeter to live for it."  (from Mosby's War Reminiscences by John S. Mosby)

Hooah

Charleston #4...

We recently took a trip to Charleston, SC for a short vacation.  What a place!

Over the period of three entries, I am going to write about our trip.  That way, I'll be able, hopefully, to keep these short and somewhat focused.  The first entry will be about the aircraft carrier, the USS Yorktown, the USS Laffey, a destroyer,  and the USS Clagmore, a submarine, all of which were anchored at the Patriots Point Naval & Maritime Museum in the Port of Charleston for permanent display.  We spent the better part of a day walking the decks of the submarine and the aircraft carrier. Being a military family, it was interesting, educational, and very humbling to walk in the footsteps of the men who fought such historic battles, wrote history with their bravery, and secured our liberty and way of life.

We started our tour on the Clagmore.  It was old, and in pretty bad condition, but still very interesting once you got on board and climbed down the ladder to the inside of the sub.  Everything inside was pretty much as it was "back in the day."

This is the front torpedo room which is now blocked off by this plexiglass wall.  It was extremely tight and small.

 

Here you get a better view of the room.  Notice the bunks above the racks that held the torpedoes.  Really tight sleeping quarters for these guys.

One thing that really popped out to me while I was walking thru the sub was how my shoulders would almost be able to touch both sides of the racks or bunks.  There was really not much room here.  I guess that is why they always said submariners were such small guys.  Also, when you would have to go through the hatches, or doorways (I don't know what they were called, I'm Army), I would really have to bend down.  I know they got the knack of it after a while because you would see them fly through them in all those WWII movies.  But at my age with old man's knees, it was low and slow.  I wanted to check out the captain's quarters and it was pretty small too.  Let's face it, there just wasn't much room for luxuries like sleeping quarters on a sub.  My tents were pretty bad at times, but this was worse.  At least I could walk around in the woods or the desert.

After a short time on the sub, we went aboard the Yorktown.  Walking up the stairs to get on board,  it was like I was walking through a big military history book, and the "Introduction" page was just turning for us.

You enter on to the hanger deck and have to work your way up to the flight deck. That's where I wanted to start anyway since there was rain forecast for the afternoon and we wanted to get that part in before the showers came. 

Until you are on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier, it is hard to comprehend how big it is, let alone the fact that airplanes which are big in their own right, come and go from its decks, or are stored below the deck.  Then top all that off with all the people and "stuff" on board -- it really is impressive and you start to understand how much American power is projected around the world just through the presence of one of these ships with all its escorts.

I took some pictures of the medical facilities they had set up.  I wanted to show my dentist and heart doctor how the other half lived.

Oh, did I tell you that the temps while we were there hit the upper 90s!  Well, as we were strolling along the hanger deck -- in the shade -- it was time to eat.  And it just so happened that there was a sign advertising lunch in the Chief Petty Officer's mess.  So down a flight of stairs we went and came upon this wonderfully cool, air conditioned CPO's mess.  You talk about bringing back some memories...the kitchen (galley) looked just like some of my mess halls, and lunch that was being served was on metal trays.  We were served rice with tomato sauce w/meat balls, salad, mixed veggies, a cookie and a piece of white bread w/two pats of butter.  Anyone who had ever been in the military knows the bread is hard, the little pat of butter is on a small piece of cardboard with a small piece of paper on top of it, and the dressing is always Italian.  But, as I was wallowing in my memories of Army chow, we actually did have a good meal, in a very nice, cool, clean mess.  With everything being taken into account, it was a meal that stood up there with some of the meals we paid big bucks for in Charleston.

The "mess steward" was proud of the metal trays.  I told him I remembered the old orange plastic trays and cups. He gave me that look like "Were those from the Civil War?"  Recognize the napkin holders and the green plastic flowers?

Following the meal, Pam and I continued our tour of the ship.  We went to the bridge.  Actually, there were two of them -- one for the ship's captain and one for the flag admiral.  Now I know any Navy readers will be all over me for not having the correct names for these decks, but I could tell one was for someone who made a whole lot more money than the other ones.  I could also tell one was more of an operations or combat deck.

Pam tried out the "Big Guy's" chair. 

OK, so that's was the tour of the Yorktown.  As we walked around the various decks (chapels, the brig, the machine shop, the various sleeping areas, etc, etc.) I was just in awe of the guys who designed this ship and even more so of the guys who built them.  Again, there are some really smart guys running around out there.  And then, when you realize what all happened on this ship --  the battles, the deaths, the heroism -- it was really overwhelming.  What an honor to have been on this ship!  Thank you Yorktown and all who served on you!

I hope that as a country we never take for granted the freedoms that those who served on this ship fought for.  I also hope we never fail to show our respect to the veterans who gave us our freedoms.  In the words of George Canning, " When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep?"  I hope not.

"It is, in a way, an odd thing to honor those who died in defense of our country in wars far away. The imagination plays a trick. We see these soldiers in our mind as old and wise. We see them as something like the Founding Fathers, grave and gray-haired. But most of them were boys when they died, they gave up two lives -- the one they were living and the one they would have lived. When they died, they gave up their chance to be husbands and fathers and grandfathers. They gave up their chance to be revered old men. They gave up everything for their country, for us. All we can do is remember."  (Ronald Reagan, Remarks at Veteran's Day ceremony, Arlington National Cemetery Arlington, Virginia, November 11, 1985)

Hooah

Hi-ooo Silver ----- Away...

Last month, my little sister turned 60.  Now, I could pen a few lines about old people, and senior discounts and blue hair.  But, last time I checked, both my brother and I were older than she and I don't really consider myself old yet (despite the fact that I now own a medicare card!!).  Sooooo, I guess she's off the hook for now.

Have you ever noticed how older people always seem to retreat to times they were more comfortable in, to times they really enjoyed...to times they think they remember and were happy in.  Well, my sister decided on her birthday to have all of the family go horseback riding with her.  She had horses back home when we were growing up.  Her first pony was a short one -- or so it seemed.  I got on it once and my feet were on the ground. But the horse was just the right size for her.  The ones we rode over at a riding stable by Bellefontaine were all bigger horses, but you'll see a picture of me on my horse and it still looks like I'm too big for it.

It was a really fun day.  Rain and storms pretty much dominated the morning, but cleared out for the afternoon -- just when we were to ride.  Although there was a great deal of mud and standing water still on the trails, the horses didn't mind and we had a great time.  Here are some pictures from that day.

Guess who won the stilt walking contest?  Medicare'll cover this, right?

The birthday girl.

Is this the cavalry or a bunch of lost tourists?

This gives you an idea of the mud and standing water left from the morning storms.

I know this is showing the best part, but does this picture make my butt look big?

Now here's a good lookin' cow girl.

Hey, Luke, the trails are over here.

We're just lined up waiting for the light to change.

Hey, Luke, put another quarter in it and head this way.

All kidding aside, it was a really fun time.  Probably what made it that way was that it was all of our family doing something together.  We don't do enough of that.

Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.
 Hooah

What a way to celebrate #5...

Quinn turned 5 last week and what a celebration. 

He and his brother and parents were at Lake Gaston with the Mills families.  I don't know many other youngsters who celebrate a 5th birthday in such a grand fashion.

Tubing with mom.

Tubing with dad.

I'm helping my big brother celebrate.

Doug said Quinn would have stayed out there all day if he could have.  Not too bad for a little guy who just started taking swimming lessons. 

Quinn, remember this...You will not grow old by merely living out a random number of years.  You will grow old by losing your lust for life, by deserting you creative spark, by losing sight of what God has given you.  You will not know what this means now, but only know that years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.

May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live.  (Irish blessing)
 
Hooah

Take me out to the ballpark...

A little while ago, my sister and her husband (see picture below) joined Pam and me in an excursion to the Great American Ballpark to watch the Cincinnati Reds take on the Milwaukee Brewers.

I found it hard to believe, but it seems that Luke and Linda had never been to a Reds game in that ballpark.  They had been to the old Riverfront stadium on several occasions, but just not to the new venue.  And since they hadn't been to GABP for a game, it also made sense to plan to tour the Reds' Hall of Fame building located just outside the complex.

We got to the Hall of Fame and it wasn't toooooo crowded!   But it was really a neat place to see.  It's like a lot of museums -- you can't take in all it has to offer in just one visit.  There is just too much to read and see.  But one thing we did have to do was go to the third floor and see the two Cincinnati greats who were there to meet fans -- Tom Browning and Jim Maloney.

Jim Maloney (seated left) and Tom Browning (seated right)  with Luke and me.

Just so you know why it was cool to meet these two guys, here are some highlights.  Maloney was throwing his fastball an unheard of 99 m.p.h. back in the early 70s.  He owns two no-hitters, had 200 strike-outs in four consecutive seasons (63-66), and was elected to the Reds Hall of Fame in 1973.  Browning is also known as "Mr. Perfect."  His perfect game (27 batters up, 27 batters out)  at that time only the 12th perfect game in major league history, came on Sept. 16, 1988. In that game he never took any batter to a 3-ball count!  He just missed a second perfect game on July 4, 1989 when a Philly hitter got a single in the 9th inning.  So meeting these guys was pretty cool.

Some of the other exhibits at the HofF were also pretty cool.

I particularly liked the one which gave a graphic picture of the magnitude of Pete Rose's hit streak/record.  It began on the first floor and was a baseball which was attached to the wall representing each of Pete's hits.  The display covered the entire width of the wall and all three stories of the building, ending with his 4,256th hit.  Imagine --- three floors of baseballs to depict this feat!  It is reported that Shin-Soo Choo asked Joey Votto about this record when Choo first came to Cincinnati.  Votto put it in perspective -- If you were a rookie and got your first hit on the first day of the season, you would have to have 20 years as a major league player at 200 hits per year and even then you would come up 256 hits short of his record.  Nobody ever has or had 20 years in the majors and no one will break this record.

On paper, the game we were to attend looked like a good one for the Reds.  Homer Bailey was to pitch.  He had been really hot in his last few games.  Maloney and Browning were there to throw out the first pitch and it was the 75th anniversary of Johnny Vander Meer's second no-hitter (He threw back-to-back no-hitters on June 11 & 15, 1938).  We can't lose, right?

I should have known better when we went to our seats, just got seated, and a bird that was flying over the stadium pooped on Linda!!!  What are the odds of that happening to you?  Anyway -- it turned out to be a crappy day for the Reds too.  The Reds lost, no pizza for the fans, and a dry cleaning bill for Linda.  Oh yeah -- Bailey went on to pitch his second career no-hitter in his next outing!!

It took me seventeen years to get three thousand hits in baseball.  I did it in one afternoon on the golf course.(Hank Aaron)


Hooah

P.s.  Why does everyone stand during the middle of the 7th inning and sing "Take me out to the ballpark" when they are already there????

Memorial Day 2013 Address...

I had the privilege to address the Memorial Day Ceremony at the Port Jefferson cemetery today.  This is the address:

This celebration of the lives and sacrifices of the service men and women of our great nation began on May 5, 1866 in Waterloo, New York.  It was originally called Decoration Day because those people in New York chose that day to decorate the town with flags dipped at half-staff.  They also hung black mourning ribbons and cloth from the trees and on the bushes throughout the town in order to celebrate and praise not only the living Union Veterans of the Civil War but also to remember their patriotic dead.  In addition, a General by the name of John B. Murray led a march by troops, civic societies and local residents into the cemeteries to place flowers on the graves of those who gave their lives during the war.  This was the first observance and parade for what we now call Memorial Day.

What a fitting honor it is all these years later to still celebrate our veterans.  So many things come and go…traditions fade…honors are forgotten… and lessons once learned,  are all-too-soon forgotten, only to be relearned the hard way.  That is why it is such an honor to be here to participate in the celebration of the lives and memories of our veterans.

When I was preparing for this time with you, I looked for reasons that would bring all of us here today …for commonalities, or threads that might weave themselves throughout these grounds.

I asked myself what it was, other than the obvious, that all of these veterans had in common. 

For instance, what was it that William Hughes, who served in the Civil War and is buried just over there a bit would have in common with Michael Brandewie, who not too long ago served in the Navy and is buried back there a ways just on the other side of that road;

or what Motor Machinist Mate 2^nd Class Lester Hensen, who served in the Navy and died the year I was born would have in common with Elizabeth and Lowell Burchett, who each served their country, one in the Coast Guard and one in the Army,  and then got married and spent the rest of their lives together. 

And I wondered what Pvt. Merrill Henson (Lester’s brother), who served in WWI, could possibly have in common with Cpl. Raymond Nettleship who was killed in action in Belgium in 1918.

I know of some of the things they definitely have in common ---yet could anything be more contradictory than the lives of our soldiers? They love America, so they spend long years in foreign lands far from her shores. They revere freedom, so they sacrifice their own that we may be free. They defend our right to live as individuals, yet yield their individuality in that cause. And perhaps most paradoxically of all, they value life, and so bravely ready themselves to die in the service of our country.

And there are probably a lot of other things.   For instance,  Each of them at some point  wore a uniform of our country’s military.  Each of them left the comforts of their homes to do whatever they could, whatever it took to secure our liberties and freedoms.  Each of them had a birthday  --- and each of them had a date of death ----- and each of them ran a dash from the beginning  to the end.   

Now I’m not talking about the kind of dash an athlete would run. 

No, I’m talking about that dash -- that little… straight… line between the dates of birth and death that you see on their grave markers.  That line that represents their life’s story,  that dash that stands for everything they did in-between.  That is another thing they all have in common…and not just among their fellow veterans, but with everyone here today.  You see, each of us – each of them – has either completed their dash or is still working on it.

Having worked our Veterans trips to DC for the past 4 years, I learned that everyone has a story to tell, regardless of their walk in life or the choices that were made along the way.  While their dash may, at first, look nondescript or even ordinary,  theirs is the story of a lifetime.  For good or bad, heroic or tragic,  it is the heritage of a family and is woven into the fabric of this country.

There are many buried here who wrote their story as productive businessmen and women.   Many of their stories were written in the fields that make up a big part of our county, raising the crops and livestock that would feed a nation.  And even more stories were put together as teachers, doctors, mothers and fathers, laborers, builders, and such.  Some of the dashes were life-long in the making, while others were cut short and all-too-incomplete.  Some were brilliant, and others tragic.

But then there are those whose dash has something that makes them stand out.  Their dash is what brings the greatest impact to this Memorial Day.  Instead of a simple straight line, theirs really should look like a tree or a streak of lightning – branching out, streaking and burning meteorically across the skies from one date to the other.  Just like the ones I mentioned earlier, they too wrote a story of their life and tackled the building of a family, a community and a nation ---- but with one exception –  their dash burned with the same white heat of the patriots and warriors who made this country so great…who made this land the envy of others around the world. 

Part of their dash, and the part that made them stand out ---- that made them different --- that made them the reason for this day -- was their willingness to put on the uniform and go off to defend this country, to secure our freedoms, and to help to establish those same ways of life in countries far removed from their everyday lives, for people they would never know. 

These were the warriors who not only used their strength to defeat their enemies, but were also the generous and compassionate custodians of liberty who helped to rebuild countries, write constitutions and pave the way toward democracy.  They did not fight to conquer the world, but rather to liberate it. 

Richard Wurmbrand is a Romanian evangelist and Christian minister who spent 14 years imprisoned in Romania for his beliefs.  But in 1967 he wrote:

“(America) is the last “dike” holding back the rampaging floodwaters of evil.  If it crumbles, there is no other dike, no other dam, no other line of defense to fall back on.

America is the last hope of millions of enslaved peoples.  They look to it as their second fatherland.  In it lies their hopes and prayers.”

And when our servicemen and women finished their part of this ongoing mission, they shed their uniforms and went home to pick up the tools of nation building ---here, in their neighborhoods, villages, and cities,   and tackled this mission with the same tenacity and courage they showed in their military service.

For the families and friends of those who wore the uniform of our country, emotions often fill the soul when they visit memorials, stop by gravesites, or participate in patriotic events such as this one.  As we look around on this Memorial Day, we should not just see the final resting places of soldiers, or the names on their markers, but we should also call to mind their dash, their life’s story. 

And so, it is our purpose not only today but for years to come to remember their excellence in humanity ----- their heroism, and their dedication to the ideals of life and liberty for all people, and to never let their dashes fade or be forgotten. 

As we recall the names of those Veterans here today who fought these battles, conquered their fears, and overcame injuries and the insanity of wars, our presence adds credence to their story and validates their dash.  And we should do so not with sadness or depression, but with joy and faith and confidence in the path they have laid out for us and the story they have prepared.

Benjamin Harrison, who was our 23d President, and who also happened to serve during the Civil War as a Brigadier General of the Tenth Corps of the Army of the Cumberland once stated,

 “I have never been able to think of this day as one of mourning; I have never quite been able to feel that half-masted flags were appropriate on Decoration Day.           

 I have rather felt that the flag should be at the peak, because those whose dying we commemorate rejoiced in seeing it where their valor placed it.      

We honor them in a joyous, thankful, triumphant commemoration of what they did.”

 

 And so, to these points, I say today we too should REJOICE  in their courage. 

REJOICE  in these citizens who taught us what it really means to be an American. 

REJOICE in the hope that these veterans have given the world for its future.

 REJOICE in the eternal flame of courage and freedom that WILLIAM, MICHAEL, LESTER, ELIZABETH, LOWELL, MERRILL,  RAYMOND  and so many of their brothers- and sisters-in-arms gave us as their legacy.

REJOICE in their stories…

REJOICE…. and CELEBRATE their dash...

Hooah

I hope so, but I really wonder...

On the way home from DDQ&H's house last week, we decided to make one of those side-trips we always say we are going to do.  This time, it was a short diversion to see the Memorial for the Heroes of Flight 93.  It is just a short little drive off I-70 and we have been meaning to do this one ever since we have been going to NY.

Located in a remote, hilly area of Pennsylvania near the town of Shanksville, it is a pleasant drive.  And as you get closer to it however, your mind starts to take over and you think of the people and events of that day.  You conjure up a picture for yourself, partly made up of half-forgotten news reports, and partly from whatever you might know from personal experiences of wooded areas and hills.  It is nothing like the real site.

A long, winding drive sets the tone for you as you enter the grounds.  There are pull-offs with signs that explain some things, that give a perspective of what took place.  If you ever get the chance to stop at this site, don't by-pass these things as they really do give a sense of direction and help to better understand the enormity of the horror that took place just a little ways on down the road.

The entire site is still in the process of being built.  There are 40 groves of trees being planted, one for each of the victims of the crash.  And then you get to the parking lot.  It's not that big and I think that is good.  This whole place is an unpretentious marker of heroism and resistance to terrorism.  And then there is a small visitor center of sorts. Inside, there is a place to leave messages, thoughts, and sign in to a visitor's log.  There are more info signs around it, and a map so you can get your bearings of the events spread out before you.  There are also pictures of the 40 victims.

Memorial thoughts posted on the bulletin board.

None of them looks extraordinary.  No one would immediately pop out as being a super hero or someone capable of standing up to these Arab extremists this way.  I looked at the pictures and wondered if I had been on that plane, would I have had the courage to step up to them.  I think I would have, but I don't know.  I guess nobody really knows until they are confronted with something like this. Emerson once said : "Every man has his own courage, and is betrayed because he seeks in himself the courage of other persons." I don't know how any of them are different from me or me them.  But I am glad these particular individuals were aboard that flight.  If it had been anyone else, would the results have been the same? 

Anyway, back to the Memorial.  After going through the visitor building, you walk down a long walkway to the actual site of the crash.  There, you see a white granite wall made up of individual panels, each bearing the name of one of the victims.   As you face the wall, and look off to the right, up the hill over which they came before flipping and crashing, you can see some posts on top of the hill.  That establishes the final flight path of 93.  Then as you look to the left, you see some wooden poles that create a kind of door through which you can look out to see the actual impact area.  The whole area is fenced in to keep people out of there.  The crater is growing over now and will eventually be covered with wild flowers.  When we were there, the whole area was covered with snow.

View from the visitor center looking toward crash site.

One of the tributes left along the walkway to the crash site.

Looking up the hill over which the plane flew prior to crash. Notice the posts at the top of the picture, centered.  This establishes the flight path.

This is pretty much the same shot, except w/o the zoom.  Gives a perspective of the final, downhill flight path.

Looking down the Memorial Wall toward the impact site.  Notice the names of the victims on the wall. Beyond the gate is the impact site.

Impact area of Flight 93.

The covering of snow put this site in a different perspective from that September day.  It gave it a coldness that heightened the feeling of respect, and heroism that we felt. It spiked the coldness of this act of hatred.  It also intensified a bit the sadness we felt for the families of those who went down here.

And I still don't know if I have an answer for my original question.

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.  (Ambrose Redmoon)

Hooah