I think I am now thinking more on the two major military oriented holidays than I used to because I am coming very close to the day when I will be a true Veteran, as in: a former member of the armed forces. (Merriam Webster). As I evaluate my own service, even if I serve out 30 years, I will still "Hold my manhood cheap" because I wasn't there on "St. Crispins Day". Don't get me wrong, I have done what God gave me the ability to do the best I could and I'm not ashamed of that, but there are two "Bands of Brothers", IMHO: Those who belong to the VFW, and those who belong to the American Legion (there is a difference). I will always be relegated to the latter.
That said, I'd like to convey a couple of stories of Veterans I've known. I just so happens that both were barbers.
The first is Jimmy. Jimmy cut hair in the Ft. Sill O'Club when I was there from 1999-2003. Jimmy never saw St. Crispins Day either, because Jimmy served "between the Wars" (meaning WWI and WWII). Jimmy played Negro League Baseball. He used to regale us with stories about the Ft. Sill O'Club from back in the day; back when the satellite club in the Bachelors Officers Quarters was called "The Wing and Rotor" (because Army Aviation started at Ft. Sill as aerial observers) and they still had dancing girls. One time Jimmy told me the following: "When I was in the Army, we made $12 a month and around $6 went to the laundry, the company fund, etc. But in those days you could go to the PX and buy a pack of cigarettes for a nickle or a six pack of beer for a nickle, and if you didn't have a girlfriend, you could get a good hooker for $2." I didn't ask Jimmy what defined a good hooker or what a bad one cost. He retired from cutting hair just before I left Ft. Sill because his mother was sick and needed more of his time. I assume Jimmy is no longer with us, 10 years later, but who knows....
The second is a gentleman who's name I never knew. He cut my hair in a strip mall outside Ft. Stewart in the 1996-1998 time frame. He'd had his St. Crispins Day. I don't know why he started telling me this story, but one day he did: "I was on a ship in WWII. When we crossed the equator going south, we were all happy, because the South Pacific was pretty much over by then. We practiced assaulting an island and then we stayed there overnight. There was an island nearby that they wouldn't let us go to, because all the women over there were naked. Then we crossed back over the equator into the North Pacific. We practiced assaulting another island. Then we got back on the ship and went to another island. That's when all hell broke loose, because that was Okinawa." That was the end of the story. I guess what struck me about that was this gentleman had no certificates or mementos on the wall. He didn't advertise the fact that he was a WWII veteran. He was just a man making a living who shared a story with a kindred soul.
This Veterans Day, I have done more than I ever have. Usually I just stay at home, but Friday we went to a spaghetti supper in New Baltimore to support Wreathes Across America. I would say that 93% of people there were Veterans. Today, we went to Texas Roadhouse for their Veteran's Day lunch. Seeing these guys, who every other day of the year are the guys who change your tires, or cut your hair, or manage your investment account, whatever, all in one place and accepting the recognition they deserve every day on this one weekend of the year was moving.
I say all that to say this: Our veterans, especially the older ones, are a rare commodity. They walk among you in anonymity. Seek them out. Listen to them. Go where they go when you are welcome. You will be better for it.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Janelle's First Day of School
Today was Janelle's first day of Kindergarten at Carkenord Elementary here in Chesterfield, MI. She has been really excited about starting kindergarten. Ever since she went to preschool and Christ Presbyterian in Fairfax, VA, she has been talking about "when I go to kindergarten..".
We live, literally, right across the street from Carkenord Elementary, where she goes to school, but they put her on a bus route on the "apple" bus. When we first started talking to her about going to school, she was excited about riding the bus. Her excitement hasn't subsided, so we were going to let her ride the bus across the street this morning. She was up, excited, and ready to go way before the bus, so Jeni put a cartoon on the TV but she was waiting at the ready.
We went out and waited for the bus at 0830, as directed, for the scheduled 0840 stop but by 0843 the bus hadn't come so Jeni walked her to class (school starts at 0855 and we didn't want to be late for the first day).
I am on leave, but I was going to a change of command ceremony in Warren today at 0930, so I headed out. On the way back, I stopped in the office for a while and got home just before school let out (that becomes relevant in a minute).
Jeni told Janelle's teacher that she would be taking the bus home. That thing hanging around her neck in the picture above is the name tag that they are supposed to wear for the first three weeks of school. It has their name, their teacher, and their bus. It's a pretty good idea for the little ones that may or may not be able to tell a teacher or administrator where they are supposed to be.
When school let out, we stood in the front of the house and watched the kids load the buses (we're just across the street, remember. When we had that big storm and the trampoline blew away, it landed in the bus bay at the school.) As the buses drove away none of them turned in front of the house and let Janelle out.
After Jeni walked back and forth a couple of times trying to see if Janelle was on a bus, the crossing guard from the corner, 50 yds away, walked down and told us the bus that comes by here services the neighborhood behind us before it comes back by here to drop kids.
When Janelle got off, she had forgotten her backpack in the excitement and had to get back on the bus to get it.
She was crazy excited about her first day at school.
From talking to her, here's what I learned about her first day:
They went to the playground twice. The same playground she has played on several times a week since we've lived here.
The lunchroom has a big window where you get your hotdog, but the hotdogs weren't that good (note: they were Turkey dogs. She's used to all beef). Several kids bring their lunch and she wants to also.
She made some friends, but doesn't remember their names.
The school bus goes around the circle behind us to let those kids off before it comes to our house.
The school bus doesn't have seatbelts.
She didn't learn to spell or to read! Jeni explained that kindergarten isn't a one day deal, it's a process [channeling Nick Saban].
She's ready to go back tomorrow and ride the bus again.
I claim success on the first day of school.
We live, literally, right across the street from Carkenord Elementary, where she goes to school, but they put her on a bus route on the "apple" bus. When we first started talking to her about going to school, she was excited about riding the bus. Her excitement hasn't subsided, so we were going to let her ride the bus across the street this morning. She was up, excited, and ready to go way before the bus, so Jeni put a cartoon on the TV but she was waiting at the ready.
We went out and waited for the bus at 0830, as directed, for the scheduled 0840 stop but by 0843 the bus hadn't come so Jeni walked her to class (school starts at 0855 and we didn't want to be late for the first day).
I am on leave, but I was going to a change of command ceremony in Warren today at 0930, so I headed out. On the way back, I stopped in the office for a while and got home just before school let out (that becomes relevant in a minute).
Jeni told Janelle's teacher that she would be taking the bus home. That thing hanging around her neck in the picture above is the name tag that they are supposed to wear for the first three weeks of school. It has their name, their teacher, and their bus. It's a pretty good idea for the little ones that may or may not be able to tell a teacher or administrator where they are supposed to be.
When school let out, we stood in the front of the house and watched the kids load the buses (we're just across the street, remember. When we had that big storm and the trampoline blew away, it landed in the bus bay at the school.) As the buses drove away none of them turned in front of the house and let Janelle out.
 |
| Waiting on the bus. |
When Janelle got off, she had forgotten her backpack in the excitement and had to get back on the bus to get it.
She was crazy excited about her first day at school.
From talking to her, here's what I learned about her first day:
They went to the playground twice. The same playground she has played on several times a week since we've lived here.
The lunchroom has a big window where you get your hotdog, but the hotdogs weren't that good (note: they were Turkey dogs. She's used to all beef). Several kids bring their lunch and she wants to also.
She made some friends, but doesn't remember their names.
The school bus goes around the circle behind us to let those kids off before it comes to our house.
The school bus doesn't have seatbelts.
She didn't learn to spell or to read! Jeni explained that kindergarten isn't a one day deal, it's a process [channeling Nick Saban].
She's ready to go back tomorrow and ride the bus again.
I claim success on the first day of school.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
The New Guy
In the Military, everything is cyclical and change is normal. When a new leader comes into an organization, everyone tries to scope him out and learn everything they can about him ASAP. They call old friends and anyone they know who has served with the new guy to get any intel they can.
I'm the new guy and I've been paying curious attention to this phenomenon. Before I even took the helm, I went to a "Senior Leader's Offsite" at Ft. Custer. I rode out there with my (now) deputy, Tom. We talked about a lot of things other than business. We talked about NASCAR, hunting, guns... a lot of things.
When I got back and was coming around the office prior to taking over, just walking the floor, and meeting with the outgoing guy, one of my mid-level folks told me, "sir, I hear you like NASCAR"... and we went on to have a conversation about racing and what kind of racing one can see in the Detroit area. hmmmm.....
At our first staff meeting, I held all the SKOT folks and told them that I just wanted to let them know who I am and what I'm all about, because I know there are all kind of rumors and gossip out there, "like how Dave knew I like NASCAR". There were some red faces and guilty grins, but it was all in good fun and I let them know that I'm laid back and approachable and we can talk NASCAR, guns, whatever, without formality or pretense.
I didn't know how deep it had gone, but there is a young man named Matt that sits at a desk down by the door. He is employed by another PM shop, but he's like the greeter for our building. Tom told me is is quite the hunter. He looks very preppy and professional, but Tom said he's in the woods every chance he gets. One morning, a few days ago, I came in and said hi to Matt. I also said, "I hear you're the great white hunter." Matt: "I hear you're not so bad yourself." So, its not even isolated to my own organization.
And it's not just the Military organization. I mentioned Mike, my neighbor who helped us get our trampoline back across the street after the big wind, on Facebook the other day. He is a solid, blue collar, 100% American kind of guy. Today, I met my other neighbor, Kip. We were both mowing and met at the fence. He said, "My name's Kip. Glad to finally meet you." I said, "I'm Chris". He said, "Yeah, I talked to Mike. I knew your name". He went on to mention or ask questions that made it obvious that he already knew that I am here for three years, I'm in the Army and I work at Selfridge. He's good guy, and I don't mean to sound like he was accusatory or anything. I just think its interesting that he knows as much as Mike knows after spending about an hour with me. Kip and Mike are both good guys and I'm glad to have them as neighbors.
This isn't meant to be a negative post, just a study in human nature. We all have a desire to know the people around us. I've just reached a point in my career where I'm the guy people want to know about and I guess your neighbors always want to know who's the new guy next door. I just find it very interesting.
I'm the new guy and I've been paying curious attention to this phenomenon. Before I even took the helm, I went to a "Senior Leader's Offsite" at Ft. Custer. I rode out there with my (now) deputy, Tom. We talked about a lot of things other than business. We talked about NASCAR, hunting, guns... a lot of things.
When I got back and was coming around the office prior to taking over, just walking the floor, and meeting with the outgoing guy, one of my mid-level folks told me, "sir, I hear you like NASCAR"... and we went on to have a conversation about racing and what kind of racing one can see in the Detroit area. hmmmm.....
At our first staff meeting, I held all the SKOT folks and told them that I just wanted to let them know who I am and what I'm all about, because I know there are all kind of rumors and gossip out there, "like how Dave knew I like NASCAR". There were some red faces and guilty grins, but it was all in good fun and I let them know that I'm laid back and approachable and we can talk NASCAR, guns, whatever, without formality or pretense.
I didn't know how deep it had gone, but there is a young man named Matt that sits at a desk down by the door. He is employed by another PM shop, but he's like the greeter for our building. Tom told me is is quite the hunter. He looks very preppy and professional, but Tom said he's in the woods every chance he gets. One morning, a few days ago, I came in and said hi to Matt. I also said, "I hear you're the great white hunter." Matt: "I hear you're not so bad yourself." So, its not even isolated to my own organization.
And it's not just the Military organization. I mentioned Mike, my neighbor who helped us get our trampoline back across the street after the big wind, on Facebook the other day. He is a solid, blue collar, 100% American kind of guy. Today, I met my other neighbor, Kip. We were both mowing and met at the fence. He said, "My name's Kip. Glad to finally meet you." I said, "I'm Chris". He said, "Yeah, I talked to Mike. I knew your name". He went on to mention or ask questions that made it obvious that he already knew that I am here for three years, I'm in the Army and I work at Selfridge. He's good guy, and I don't mean to sound like he was accusatory or anything. I just think its interesting that he knows as much as Mike knows after spending about an hour with me. Kip and Mike are both good guys and I'm glad to have them as neighbors.
This isn't meant to be a negative post, just a study in human nature. We all have a desire to know the people around us. I've just reached a point in my career where I'm the guy people want to know about and I guess your neighbors always want to know who's the new guy next door. I just find it very interesting.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Relax, I don't live in Detroit
Some folks have expressed concern about us, since we have moved to the larger Detroit Metro area. Everyone can relax. We don't live in or near metro Detroit. We certainly don't live in a half burned out bank repo that we bought for $5. This is our house, courtesy of Bing Maps.
We have one neighbor on each side, and a nice subdivision behind us. Chesterfield Rd. is generally pretty quiet, but traffic picks up some in the evenings, but I would classify it as akin to a bit more than Sardis Road. That blue shape at the bottom of the picture is the elementary school where Janelle will attend Kindergarten this fall. They also have a really nice playground where we can take the kids when school is out. Because we live across from the school the Chesterfield PD patrols by here quite regularly and, as we learned in Idaho, we'll be first on the list for snow plows.
The house is a split level ranch, with the master bedroom and a nursery that is now my computer room on the ground floor. The upper level belongs to the kids. Their bedrooms are on the right end of the house and there is a big room over the garage that is their "playroom". The basement is a true basement, not a walkout, and it's finished. There is a nice living area down there and the huge guest bedroom. The best part is, rent is about 25% less than our DC Townhouse.
I'm about 15 minutes from work at Selfridge Air National Guard Base, and about 20-30 minutes from Detroit Arsenal, when I need to go down there. There is a Texas Road House and a Meijer about a mile down the road. (Meijer is like a Super WalMart). There is a Lowe's, Dick's, and Best Buy just around the corner from Meijer. There is a Super Walmart and a Menards, which is like a "Super Home Depot", less than 5 miles away. We can also travel the 4 miles south to Hall Rd (also M59), and find any restaurant you'd ever think you might want within 15 miles or so. Despite our proximity to the consumer center at Gratiot Rd and 23 Mile Rd, that mile makes all the difference in the world.
My only regret is my 21" push mower. I love that Honda OHC engine (you can't bog that engine down), but a 21" cutting path is a lot of pushing around that yard. However, I'm not going to invest in a rider to solve a 3 year problem. The guy I'm replacing is going to sell me his snow blower for the winter months. I learned that lesson in Idaho.
Bottom line, we live in the best of suburbia. No worries.
We have one neighbor on each side, and a nice subdivision behind us. Chesterfield Rd. is generally pretty quiet, but traffic picks up some in the evenings, but I would classify it as akin to a bit more than Sardis Road. That blue shape at the bottom of the picture is the elementary school where Janelle will attend Kindergarten this fall. They also have a really nice playground where we can take the kids when school is out. Because we live across from the school the Chesterfield PD patrols by here quite regularly and, as we learned in Idaho, we'll be first on the list for snow plows.
The house is a split level ranch, with the master bedroom and a nursery that is now my computer room on the ground floor. The upper level belongs to the kids. Their bedrooms are on the right end of the house and there is a big room over the garage that is their "playroom". The basement is a true basement, not a walkout, and it's finished. There is a nice living area down there and the huge guest bedroom. The best part is, rent is about 25% less than our DC Townhouse.
I'm about 15 minutes from work at Selfridge Air National Guard Base, and about 20-30 minutes from Detroit Arsenal, when I need to go down there. There is a Texas Road House and a Meijer about a mile down the road. (Meijer is like a Super WalMart). There is a Lowe's, Dick's, and Best Buy just around the corner from Meijer. There is a Super Walmart and a Menards, which is like a "Super Home Depot", less than 5 miles away. We can also travel the 4 miles south to Hall Rd (also M59), and find any restaurant you'd ever think you might want within 15 miles or so. Despite our proximity to the consumer center at Gratiot Rd and 23 Mile Rd, that mile makes all the difference in the world.
My only regret is my 21" push mower. I love that Honda OHC engine (you can't bog that engine down), but a 21" cutting path is a lot of pushing around that yard. However, I'm not going to invest in a rider to solve a 3 year problem. The guy I'm replacing is going to sell me his snow blower for the winter months. I learned that lesson in Idaho.
Bottom line, we live in the best of suburbia. No worries.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
I met a Veteran today
Around the Tank and Automotive Command (TACOM), it seems like there are a lot of veterans of various lengths of service that work here. That is expected. I ran into a retired Chief Warrant Officer today that I had served with in 3-13FA at Fort Sill. He told me that he'd been looking to find me for a while, because he kept seeing my name on various things. He had actually been looking for my brother from a different mother (and Tennessee fan), Christopher M. Ford, but he found me today.
That's not what this is about. The Warren, MI area is not a military town. There are a couple hundred soldiers here, but that is nothing like the thousands in a town that hosts a Division, so Soldiers are not a common sight. I went out for lunch today at the local sub shop, and as I was walking toward the door, an older gentleman was approaching me. As he got closer, he sort of lit up. He seemed to smile more and walk with a little more spring in his step. He walked up to me, extended his hand and said, "Sir, I'm Sergeant (I regret I don't remember his name)". "I served in Vietnam." I shook his hand and said "Thank you." He replied, "Thank you for your service." and I said, "Thank you for yours". At that we released our hand shake and parted ways. I think this encounter made his day, and it sure made mine. I think I'll like it here.
That's not what this is about. The Warren, MI area is not a military town. There are a couple hundred soldiers here, but that is nothing like the thousands in a town that hosts a Division, so Soldiers are not a common sight. I went out for lunch today at the local sub shop, and as I was walking toward the door, an older gentleman was approaching me. As he got closer, he sort of lit up. He seemed to smile more and walk with a little more spring in his step. He walked up to me, extended his hand and said, "Sir, I'm Sergeant (I regret I don't remember his name)". "I served in Vietnam." I shook his hand and said "Thank you." He replied, "Thank you for your service." and I said, "Thank you for yours". At that we released our hand shake and parted ways. I think this encounter made his day, and it sure made mine. I think I'll like it here.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
OIF Ten Years Later
Ten years ago (plus or minus a day or two, depending on when I hit "publish") we invaded Iraq. That was a different time, and time may have changed perspectives (even mine), but time can not erase the 4486 Warriors we lost there.
When 9/11 happened, I was checking out of the guest house at Brooke Army Medical Center (BAMC) in San Antonio at the end of my colectomy/j-pouch process. I was still in Command (in name) of HHS/1-14 FA. I left command soon after that and went to work on the Brigade Staff.
In June 2002, I took command of B/3-13 FA. We had one hella good battery. Around September or October, the Iraq war drums started beating and the activity level ratcheted up several notches as we tried to figure out who/how many would go from Ft. Sill. It only made sense that deep fires would be a big player in any war in Iraq, so Ft. Sill would be called upon to respond.
Our Battalion was the first called, but we were only tasked to send one Battery to round out the MLRS Battalion in the 3rd Infantry Division (3ID), who would be the first to deploy. The leadership decided that C Battery would be the Battery to go, but it would be "reorganized". The reorganization included swapping four of my six launcher crews into C Battery, moving the A Battery 1SG into C Battery, and moving my 1SG to A Battery. To me, it was very clear that B Battery was going to war under a new commander......... apparently I was the weak link in B Battery.
As the build up went on, Ft. Sill sent 9 of 12 Battalions and 3 of 4 Brigade Headquarters to Kuwait, but because of the speed and tempo of the initial ground war, only one Ft. Sill Brigade (mine) and only one Battalion actually got into the fight. Those of us left at Ft. Sill were organized under the stay behind Brigade HQ as the "strategic reserve".
There is much more to the story than that, but I'll leave it there and move on to my AC/RC job in Idaho. There, I was responsible for assisting a National Guard Battalion in its training. The Battalion I was training was mobilized and we went to Ft. Bliss to help them train up. Through some twist of fate, I ended up going with them to Ft. Polk to complete their training and stayed with them right up to when they got on the plane to leave. Shaking each and every hand as they got on the plane, and watching them fly away, I could not have been more proud of this group of citizen soldiers who answered the nation's call. I was proud of any contribution I might have made toward their success and their individual survival. However, standing on the tarmac, watching them fly away, I felt totally stupid and impotent as the Active Duty Army guy watching the National Guard fly away to war, but that was my assignment and not my decision.
Shortly after this, I went back to Ft. Bliss to help finish up the training for the 29th BCT.
Given all this, and some things I haven't said, I decided that, as much as I loved leading soldiers, I would never be an Artillery Battalion Commander (and I couldn't live my life as the guy always left behind) so I switched over to Acquisition so I could continue to serve with honor, progress in my career, and make a difference for our Warfighters.
Why did I tell you all this? I don't know.... maybe to say that no matter how little skin we have in the game, we all have some skin in the game. Maybe to highlight how much things have changed in ten years.
My thoughts on the wars have definitely changed in the intervening years. I wonder now if the cost was worth what we have gained. I have no doubt that the people in charge at the time thought, with all their hearts, that they were doing the right thing. I say again, NO DOUBT.
I also know that I, still today, wear a bracelet with the names, SFC Randall Rehn, SGT Todd Robbins, and SPC Donald (Sam) Oaks, who were members of C/3-13 FA and were killed in a "friendly fire" incident in OIF 1 when an F15 mistook their MLRS fires for anti-aircraft missiles and dropped a bomb on them. Also on my bracelet is SSG Toby Mallet, who was a technical fire direction super star, but a young and dumb junior soldier in many other aspects that worked for me when I was a Lieutenant at Ft. Stewart. He got out of the Army at the end of his enlistment at Ft. Stewart as a PFC but decided to come back in. When he died he was a Staff Sergeant and had proven that he had overcome his youth and had become a man and a leader. Those were four good men, with four good lives still left to live. I escorted Randy Rehn's wife and family to the memorial service, even before his body had come home. I saw his wife grab SSG Brian Frazier, who would be escorting him home and tell him, "You go get him. You get him and bring him home!". I saw BG Formica try to explain to Sammy Oaks' parents that he might have been killed by fratricide. I saw the families' react to the last roll call, and I shed a tear too (It's the most powerful thing you could ever experience. It hammers home the fact that your loved one has departed the earthly formation and will never rejoin it.) I went to Randy Rehn's funeral and watched his wife cry on his coffin.... and I wonder if all the good we did in Iraq was worth the life of either of these four men, much less the 4000+ who gave their lives.
No matter how you feel about the war, always remember that real men (and women) fought it and they deserve our respect and we owe them our gratitude and the care and benefits they earned. They were Soldiers, and they carried out the orders of the President of the United States and they served on our behalf. If you doubt the war, it is a lie to say that the soldiers died for nothing. The soldiers died for their country. They died doing their duty, which includes going where the country sends them and doing what the country asks them to do.
When 9/11 happened, I was checking out of the guest house at Brooke Army Medical Center (BAMC) in San Antonio at the end of my colectomy/j-pouch process. I was still in Command (in name) of HHS/1-14 FA. I left command soon after that and went to work on the Brigade Staff.
In June 2002, I took command of B/3-13 FA. We had one hella good battery. Around September or October, the Iraq war drums started beating and the activity level ratcheted up several notches as we tried to figure out who/how many would go from Ft. Sill. It only made sense that deep fires would be a big player in any war in Iraq, so Ft. Sill would be called upon to respond.
Our Battalion was the first called, but we were only tasked to send one Battery to round out the MLRS Battalion in the 3rd Infantry Division (3ID), who would be the first to deploy. The leadership decided that C Battery would be the Battery to go, but it would be "reorganized". The reorganization included swapping four of my six launcher crews into C Battery, moving the A Battery 1SG into C Battery, and moving my 1SG to A Battery. To me, it was very clear that B Battery was going to war under a new commander......... apparently I was the weak link in B Battery.
As the build up went on, Ft. Sill sent 9 of 12 Battalions and 3 of 4 Brigade Headquarters to Kuwait, but because of the speed and tempo of the initial ground war, only one Ft. Sill Brigade (mine) and only one Battalion actually got into the fight. Those of us left at Ft. Sill were organized under the stay behind Brigade HQ as the "strategic reserve".
There is much more to the story than that, but I'll leave it there and move on to my AC/RC job in Idaho. There, I was responsible for assisting a National Guard Battalion in its training. The Battalion I was training was mobilized and we went to Ft. Bliss to help them train up. Through some twist of fate, I ended up going with them to Ft. Polk to complete their training and stayed with them right up to when they got on the plane to leave. Shaking each and every hand as they got on the plane, and watching them fly away, I could not have been more proud of this group of citizen soldiers who answered the nation's call. I was proud of any contribution I might have made toward their success and their individual survival. However, standing on the tarmac, watching them fly away, I felt totally stupid and impotent as the Active Duty Army guy watching the National Guard fly away to war, but that was my assignment and not my decision.
Shortly after this, I went back to Ft. Bliss to help finish up the training for the 29th BCT.
Given all this, and some things I haven't said, I decided that, as much as I loved leading soldiers, I would never be an Artillery Battalion Commander (and I couldn't live my life as the guy always left behind) so I switched over to Acquisition so I could continue to serve with honor, progress in my career, and make a difference for our Warfighters.
Why did I tell you all this? I don't know.... maybe to say that no matter how little skin we have in the game, we all have some skin in the game. Maybe to highlight how much things have changed in ten years.
My thoughts on the wars have definitely changed in the intervening years. I wonder now if the cost was worth what we have gained. I have no doubt that the people in charge at the time thought, with all their hearts, that they were doing the right thing. I say again, NO DOUBT.
I also know that I, still today, wear a bracelet with the names, SFC Randall Rehn, SGT Todd Robbins, and SPC Donald (Sam) Oaks, who were members of C/3-13 FA and were killed in a "friendly fire" incident in OIF 1 when an F15 mistook their MLRS fires for anti-aircraft missiles and dropped a bomb on them. Also on my bracelet is SSG Toby Mallet, who was a technical fire direction super star, but a young and dumb junior soldier in many other aspects that worked for me when I was a Lieutenant at Ft. Stewart. He got out of the Army at the end of his enlistment at Ft. Stewart as a PFC but decided to come back in. When he died he was a Staff Sergeant and had proven that he had overcome his youth and had become a man and a leader. Those were four good men, with four good lives still left to live. I escorted Randy Rehn's wife and family to the memorial service, even before his body had come home. I saw his wife grab SSG Brian Frazier, who would be escorting him home and tell him, "You go get him. You get him and bring him home!". I saw BG Formica try to explain to Sammy Oaks' parents that he might have been killed by fratricide. I saw the families' react to the last roll call, and I shed a tear too (It's the most powerful thing you could ever experience. It hammers home the fact that your loved one has departed the earthly formation and will never rejoin it.) I went to Randy Rehn's funeral and watched his wife cry on his coffin.... and I wonder if all the good we did in Iraq was worth the life of either of these four men, much less the 4000+ who gave their lives.
No matter how you feel about the war, always remember that real men (and women) fought it and they deserve our respect and we owe them our gratitude and the care and benefits they earned. They were Soldiers, and they carried out the orders of the President of the United States and they served on our behalf. If you doubt the war, it is a lie to say that the soldiers died for nothing. The soldiers died for their country. They died doing their duty, which includes going where the country sends them and doing what the country asks them to do.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Andalusia Bama Fan in Petersburg
As time goes by, this isn't uproariously funny, but I did drive away scratching my head.
To set the stage for this little tale, I have a red truck. That's purely coincidental. It was the truck they had on the lot that fit my wants the day I bought it, but it fits the narrative. I also have an Alabama cover on my hitch receiver and a 3" Alabama "A" magnet on my tailgate. I also still have Idaho tags because they keep sending me renewal notices at just the right time to get forwarded to my newest address and they will send me tags where ever I am. I just line out the old address, write in the new one, and enclose a check. Since they are ridiculously cheap compared to the Eastern States, I keep buying them.
As I was lined up to turn left into Ft. Lee Sunday, a green Toyota truck stopped on my left, a good car length from the car in front of him. I looked over, and the driver, an older guy wearing an Alabama cap, was giving the Pentagon salute (arms out, shoulders shrugged, palms up) and mouthing something like "whats up". I thought he'd seen my Alabama stuff and this was another of those Roll Tide moments, so I waved and smiled..... but he kept doing it, and he had his passenger window down, so I rolled my window down too.
He said, "Why don't you have a truck load of taters?" Still thinking Alabama (and we're yelling through traffic noise), I thought I heard him say, "Why don't you have a truck load of gators?" That made no sense to me and I couldn't think of a way to respond. I thought that was a pretty odd question, especially since Alabama didn't even play Florida this year. I said, "what?" He said, "Idaho.....taters!"
Now, I still didn't quite know how to respond, so I said, "I haven't been in Idaho in over 6 years"........ "but when I was there I saw more sugar beets than taters."
He said, "When are you going back?". Me: (still thinking Alabama at this point) "To Idaho?". Him: "yeah". Me: "I don't know if I will, I'm from Alabama." (please get it, guy, please get it)
He yelled over, just as the light turned green, "where". I said "Gadsden" and drove ahead and pulled away from him. He caught me momentarily as we approached the gate and yelled over, "I was born and raised in Andalusia." and then traffic caught him and I moved on and never saw him again.
As I drove away from the gate, I noticed my Alabama cap, just like his, laying on my passenger seat. If only I'd thought about it.....
When you go where the Army sends you, and you carry the artifacts of everywhere else you've been, this kind of thing isn't that uncommon.
To set the stage for this little tale, I have a red truck. That's purely coincidental. It was the truck they had on the lot that fit my wants the day I bought it, but it fits the narrative. I also have an Alabama cover on my hitch receiver and a 3" Alabama "A" magnet on my tailgate. I also still have Idaho tags because they keep sending me renewal notices at just the right time to get forwarded to my newest address and they will send me tags where ever I am. I just line out the old address, write in the new one, and enclose a check. Since they are ridiculously cheap compared to the Eastern States, I keep buying them.
As I was lined up to turn left into Ft. Lee Sunday, a green Toyota truck stopped on my left, a good car length from the car in front of him. I looked over, and the driver, an older guy wearing an Alabama cap, was giving the Pentagon salute (arms out, shoulders shrugged, palms up) and mouthing something like "whats up". I thought he'd seen my Alabama stuff and this was another of those Roll Tide moments, so I waved and smiled..... but he kept doing it, and he had his passenger window down, so I rolled my window down too.
He said, "Why don't you have a truck load of taters?" Still thinking Alabama (and we're yelling through traffic noise), I thought I heard him say, "Why don't you have a truck load of gators?" That made no sense to me and I couldn't think of a way to respond. I thought that was a pretty odd question, especially since Alabama didn't even play Florida this year. I said, "what?" He said, "Idaho.....taters!"
Now, I still didn't quite know how to respond, so I said, "I haven't been in Idaho in over 6 years"........ "but when I was there I saw more sugar beets than taters."
He said, "When are you going back?". Me: (still thinking Alabama at this point) "To Idaho?". Him: "yeah". Me: "I don't know if I will, I'm from Alabama." (please get it, guy, please get it)
He yelled over, just as the light turned green, "where". I said "Gadsden" and drove ahead and pulled away from him. He caught me momentarily as we approached the gate and yelled over, "I was born and raised in Andalusia." and then traffic caught him and I moved on and never saw him again.
As I drove away from the gate, I noticed my Alabama cap, just like his, laying on my passenger seat. If only I'd thought about it.....
When you go where the Army sends you, and you carry the artifacts of everywhere else you've been, this kind of thing isn't that uncommon.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Arlington National Cemetery
Jeni and I have recently started a tradition where we take a day or two off from the kids somewhere around our anniversary and spend some time together. This year, we were going to take a couple of days in DC and see some things that we haven't seen, but it got shortened to one day and one night due to the rotten weather on day two. Never the less, we spent the night in the Rosslyn Holiday Inn (only about 12 miles from home, but like I said, no kids. Thanks Granny and Granddaddy. :) ) It was very nice and I made this picture (which I am extremely proud of) from the balcony.
For the rest of the post, click play for some fitting background music from Trace Adkins.
The first thing we did on that Friday was to go to Arlington. Jeni had never been to Arlington but I've been a few times. It is truly a humbling experience to walk among the rows and rows and rows of American patriots who lie there.
That's Robert E. Lee's house up there on the hill. Before the war he had some of the best real estate in DC (Arlington County, Virginia was part of DC back then). Check out this view:
That's the five sided puzzle palace down there, just beyond the cemetery grounds.
The really famous and well connected folks are buried right at the bottom of that hill. The Kennedy eternal flame is right at the bottom of Gen. Lee's hill. I don't have a picture of it, because I was never into the Camelot thing and I don't see why one veteran should have such a high place of honor over the thousands of others (full disclosure: I do have a pic from an earlier visit, but I'm not sharing because I'm making a point here). Near John Kennedy is Ted. They discovered that he was drafted and served a few months and was, therefore, eligible to be buried near his brothers and among men much, much his better on this hallowed ground. Meanwhile, real heroes rest unassumingly among the thousands of Warriors buried here.
There are also tributes to those who didn't necessarily fall in battle, or even serve in combat, but were heroes, none the less:
And there are some great stories, that are only told here, about amazing Patriots and Warriors like this man:
Of course, we watched the Changing of the Guard. Jeni had never seen it. Although, as a Soldier, my first impulse is to smirk a bit at this overly grandiose display of drill that will be found nowhere in an Army manual and is not practiced anywhere else in the Army, when you realize that these soldiers go to all the trouble to memorize and perfect that routine to honor the men in that tomb, it is very humbling.
While we were there, a Naval Officer was being buried. (We went to Ft. Myer, which borders the cemetery, before our visit to buy a few things, and we saw the Navy band forming up outside the chapel and we saw the procession coming into the cemetery while we were waiting at the Tomb of the Unknowns). During the changing of the guard, in honor of the Naval Officer, four F-18's did a "missing man" flyover. If you've never seen one, four jets came over in a "V" formation with a lead plane with one plane in echelon on the left and two in echelon on the right. When they came over the cemetery the first plane on the right broke sharply skyward and climbed high into the sky, symbolizing the soul of the fallen Warrior ascending to heaven, and the rest of the flight flew on with an empty position in the formation. If was a breathtaking sight.... the changing of the guard honoring the unknowns of wars before and the missing man formation for a recently deceased Warrior, but just as easily symbolizing those Unknown Soldiers in the tomb. I will admit that my eyes watered up just a bit, and when the changing of the guard was over, Jeni had to take a moment before she could ask where we were going next.
This is what the missing man formation looks like over a noisy football stadium. Now use your imagination to see this over the reverent quiet at Arlington.
If you look closely at the crest of the hill, behind the trees, you can see the caisson that carried the Naval Officer to his grave, returning to Ft. Myer.
The Tomb of the Unknowns is backed by an amphitheater, and I must admit I have no idea why, or what they do there, but this is the inscription over the entryway:
If you can't read the top line, it says, "dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" That's Latin for "it is sweet and beautiful to die for one's country". Here is the only place I will go off script. When I was a younger man, I believed that. Now, I will only say that anyone who says it is sweet and beautiful to die for your country, has never done it. I understand the sentiment, but it is far better to fight and live. If you must die, you must, but it sure as heck isn't sweet and beautiful.
If you get the chance to go to Arlington, I would encourage you to get away from the eternal flame and the Tomb of the Unknowns, and all the tourist stuff, and just wander around the cemetery a bit and soak it in. It is truly humbling. I would say go over to section 60, because that's were the dead of our current wars are being buried, but I think its better to let the grieving have their peace.
For the rest of the post, click play for some fitting background music from Trace Adkins.
The first thing we did on that Friday was to go to Arlington. Jeni had never been to Arlington but I've been a few times. It is truly a humbling experience to walk among the rows and rows and rows of American patriots who lie there.
That's Robert E. Lee's house up there on the hill. Before the war he had some of the best real estate in DC (Arlington County, Virginia was part of DC back then). Check out this view:
The really famous and well connected folks are buried right at the bottom of that hill. The Kennedy eternal flame is right at the bottom of Gen. Lee's hill. I don't have a picture of it, because I was never into the Camelot thing and I don't see why one veteran should have such a high place of honor over the thousands of others (full disclosure: I do have a pic from an earlier visit, but I'm not sharing because I'm making a point here). Near John Kennedy is Ted. They discovered that he was drafted and served a few months and was, therefore, eligible to be buried near his brothers and among men much, much his better on this hallowed ground. Meanwhile, real heroes rest unassumingly among the thousands of Warriors buried here.
There are also tributes to those who didn't necessarily fall in battle, or even serve in combat, but were heroes, none the less:
And there are some great stories, that are only told here, about amazing Patriots and Warriors like this man:
Of course, we watched the Changing of the Guard. Jeni had never seen it. Although, as a Soldier, my first impulse is to smirk a bit at this overly grandiose display of drill that will be found nowhere in an Army manual and is not practiced anywhere else in the Army, when you realize that these soldiers go to all the trouble to memorize and perfect that routine to honor the men in that tomb, it is very humbling.
While we were there, a Naval Officer was being buried. (We went to Ft. Myer, which borders the cemetery, before our visit to buy a few things, and we saw the Navy band forming up outside the chapel and we saw the procession coming into the cemetery while we were waiting at the Tomb of the Unknowns). During the changing of the guard, in honor of the Naval Officer, four F-18's did a "missing man" flyover. If you've never seen one, four jets came over in a "V" formation with a lead plane with one plane in echelon on the left and two in echelon on the right. When they came over the cemetery the first plane on the right broke sharply skyward and climbed high into the sky, symbolizing the soul of the fallen Warrior ascending to heaven, and the rest of the flight flew on with an empty position in the formation. If was a breathtaking sight.... the changing of the guard honoring the unknowns of wars before and the missing man formation for a recently deceased Warrior, but just as easily symbolizing those Unknown Soldiers in the tomb. I will admit that my eyes watered up just a bit, and when the changing of the guard was over, Jeni had to take a moment before she could ask where we were going next.
This is what the missing man formation looks like over a noisy football stadium. Now use your imagination to see this over the reverent quiet at Arlington.
The Tomb of the Unknowns is backed by an amphitheater, and I must admit I have no idea why, or what they do there, but this is the inscription over the entryway:
If you can't read the top line, it says, "dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" That's Latin for "it is sweet and beautiful to die for one's country". Here is the only place I will go off script. When I was a younger man, I believed that. Now, I will only say that anyone who says it is sweet and beautiful to die for your country, has never done it. I understand the sentiment, but it is far better to fight and live. If you must die, you must, but it sure as heck isn't sweet and beautiful.
If you get the chance to go to Arlington, I would encourage you to get away from the eternal flame and the Tomb of the Unknowns, and all the tourist stuff, and just wander around the cemetery a bit and soak it in. It is truly humbling. I would say go over to section 60, because that's were the dead of our current wars are being buried, but I think its better to let the grieving have their peace.
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