Salute

Yesterday I was looking for an uplifting item to post, and had to hunt for something.

Today one dropped into my lap, in an email from a friend and fellow veteran.

The title of his email was 'No Words Needed'.

In some respects he was right. But in others, maybe less right.

The events stand on their own; the actions of this boy are proudly able to speak volumes.

But they are also worthy of comment.

I have a 9 yer old granddaughter; I know what $20 represents to a child of that age. A dollar is money; 5 bucks is heaven. $20; that's Sam Walton Rich. It represents unlimited spending. When a major purchase is $2.50, $20.00 is REAL CASH! Think about it this way: assume you just found enough cash to equal two weeks pay. Puts it into perspective, doesn't it?

We also have a child who never knew his father. He knows he was a soldier, and he knows his career as a soldier is why he is not around. Some folks would be bitter about that. The Army wouldn't represent the best we can be, but the entity that stole the most important man ever in your life as a young boy.

But he isn't. He has found money, and instead of spending on himself, or on his immediate family, he spends on his larger family, his Army Family.

Another point the article doesn't make that needs to be. Not only is this one special kid; he has one very special Mother.

This youngster didn't get this way on his own. He was formed by a woman who had every reason to be bitter, and apparently is not. What better way to honor her husband's memory than the boy she has raised?

Yesterday I went hunting for good news, and found a group of divers who rescued a shark.

Today I had good news thrust upon me, and this was the best kind of good news; it is the kind that gives me hope.

If You Don't Laugh, You Ain't Normal

That first post was short, but with a long video.

So how about another short post with another long military related video.

I found this over at the The Borderline Sociopathic Blog For Boys site; always very entertaining.

I did spend a few years serving, but I don't remember anything like this video happening. But then maybe we were this young and dumb.

Or, maybe its because I see lots of Green- Army and Marines.

Didn't see any blue in here at all.

But then again I could be prejudiced.

Does That Go For My Man Chuck, Too?

Guess what I just found out. This means all of the Jokes can now stop, right?

You know the ones about how soft the Air Force is?

And now I know where BUFF's get the ability to scare the ground away!

Duty, Honor, Respect

I normally am against Democrats and politicians who hold public office for their entire adult lives; I am also against those same politicians being awarded medals for ancient military service that they weren't awarded at the time. It seems they just called in a few favors and picked up an award others have died for.

Daniel Inouye seemed to fill all of those requirements. A Democrat, he has been in Congress, first in the House and then in the Senate, since 1959; before I was born. Awarded a Distinguished Service Cross for action in Europe during the Second World War, President Bill Clinton upgraded the DSC to a Medal of Honor. Honors inflation; friends will be friends I thought. Let's see what the fuss is about, then we can really make a scathing post about the the whole package.

I came away with a new respect for Captain Inouye. I still don't like that he was a Democrat, and that he spent more than 50 years in Washington, but that man should have been awarded Medal of Honor in 1945.

There is a website that has every citation for every Medal of Honor given; Here is Captain Inouye's story:

INOUYE, DANIEL K.

Second Lieutenant Daniel K. Inouye distinguished himself by extraordinary heroism in action on 21 April 1945, in the vicinity of San Terenzo, Italy. While attacking a defended ridge guarding an important road junction, Second Lieutenant Inouye skillfully directed his platoon through a hail of automatic weapon and small arms fire, in a swift enveloping movement that resulted in the capture of an artillery and mortar post and brought his men to within 40 yards of the hostile force. Emplaced in bunkers and rock formations, the enemy halted the advance with crossfire from three machine guns. With complete disregard for his personal safety, Second Lieutenant Inouye crawled up the treacherous slope to within five yards of the nearest machine gun and hurled two grenades, destroying the emplacement. Before the enemy could retaliate, he stood up and neutralized a second machine gun nest. Although wounded by a sniper's bullet, he continued to engage other hostile positions at close range until an exploding grenade shattered his right arm. Despite the intense pain, he refused evacuation and continued to direct his platoon until enemy resistance was broken and his men were again deployed in defensive positions. In the attack, 25 enemy soldiers were killed and eight others captured. By his gallant, aggressive tactics and by his indomitable leadership, Second Lieutenant Inouye enabled his platoon to advance through formidable resistance, and was instrumental in the capture of the ridge. Second Lieutenant Inouye's extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty are in keeping with the highest traditions of military service and reflect great credit on him, his unit, and the United States Army.

Impressive enough, but Wikipedia has a version with a little more detail:

On April 21, 1945, Inouye was grievously wounded while leading an assault on a heavily-defended ridge near San Terenzo in Tuscany, Italy called Colle Musatello. The ridge served as a strongpoint along the strip of German fortifications known as the Gothic Line, which represented the last and most unyielding line of German defensive works in Italy. As he led his platoon in a flanking maneuver, three German machine guns opened fire from covered positions just 40 yards away, pinning his men to the ground. Inouye stood up to attack and was shot in the stomach; ignoring his wound, he proceeded to attack and destroy the first machine gun nest with hand grenades and fire from his Thompson submachine gun. After being informed of the severity of his wound by his platoon sergeant, he refused treatment and rallied his men for an attack on the second machine gun position, which he also successfully destroyed before collapsing from blood loss.
As his squad distracted the third machine gunner, Inouye crawled toward the final bunker, eventually drawing within 10 yards. As he raised himself up and cocked his arm to throw his last grenade into the fighting position, a German inside the bunker fired a rifle grenade that struck him on the right elbow, severing most of his arm and leaving his own primed grenade reflexively "clenched in a fist that suddenly didn't belong to me anymore". Inouye's horrified soldiers moved to his aid, but he shouted for them to keep back out of fear his severed fist would involuntarily relax and drop the grenade. As the German inside the bunker reloaded his rifle, Inouye pried the live grenade from his useless right hand and transferred it to his left. As the German aimed his rifle to finish him off, Inouye tossed the grenade off-hand into the bunker and destroyed it. He stumbled to his feet and continued forward, silencing the last German resistance with a one-handed burst from his Thompson before being wounded in the leg and tumbling unconscious to the bottom of the ridge. When he awoke to see the concerned men of his platoon hovering over him, his only comment before being carried away was to gruffly order them to return to their positions, since, as he pointed out, "nobody called off the war!"

The reason his DSC was upgraded to a Medal of Honor was most likely because of his race; Daniel Inouye was Japanese-American. Had he been an American of European descent there would have been no doubt his actions would have merited the Medal of Honor.

No matter that Senator Inouye went on to become a Democrat; Not matter that he served 50 years in Washington- both things that are an anathema to me. In 1945 Second Lieutenant Daniel K. Inouye was a hero. For that he has my respect.

Family Lore Turns Into Official History

My Grandfather on my Dad's side was a United States Marine.

Family lore was always that he had done his basic at Paris Island and was then sent off to the Dominican Republic. This was the lore. Now I have the proof.

Ancestry.com is a wonderful resource. I have been using it for years in my genealogy research. Recently they added more military records to their resources, including the muster rolls for the Marine Corps.

Based on these monthly records I was able to reconstruct Grandpa's entire military career. Well; almost. There are a few months missing; I just need to figure out how to find the missing months.

These records are interesting, even without the family connection. They list every Marine in the Corps, by unit and by rank alphabetically. The sole identifier, after their name, was their muster date in this period. Typewritten, they contain small details, like when they were transferred in and out, and if the Marine has gotten into trouble, requiring a reprimand and/or loss of pay. 

As it stands now:

Enlisted in on June 16, 1918 to Company X, Marine Corps Barracks, Paris Island, South Carolina; one of 396 Privates in the company, noted without comment.

On July 8, 1918 he was assigned to 3rd Regiment, US Marines, Santo Domingo City, Dominican Republic, along with quite a few of his Training Company.

He arrived in Santo Domingo on July 22, 1918, sailing on board the USS Hancock, and became part of the 44th Division, 3rd Provisional Regiment, 2nd Brigade, USMC.

August is interesting. The muster list for the 44th only list those Marines that were being punished for some transgression, were sick or had died. Several of the Marines died from 'incised wounds in the skull'. But no reference to Grandpa; thankfully.

In September he spent the 26th to 30th "in field, in Providence of Santo Domingo".

I checked October pretty thoroughly, and could not even find a reference to the 44th Division; maybe the records are incomplete? I did not look at every one of the 480 some pages, so I may have missed something. Still; are the records complete? Hard to say.

The next record is January, 1919, where the record indicates he spent the entire month "in field in Providences of Macoris and Seibo, DR".

Next record is April of 1919, again with no comment.

Then comes July of 1919, that contains a rather (for these records anyway) lengthy comment:
"22 participated in an engagement with native bandits at Plata de la Palma, DR. 25 transferred to Barracks Detachment per Regimental transfer order 92, dated July 25, 1919".

There are two records in August of 1919. The first is from the Barracks Detachment, Third Provisional Regiment, Santo Domingo City, DR: "7-transferred to US on USS Kittery".

The second is from the Barracks Detachment, Marine Barracks, Charleston, South Carolina: "14- disch. (discharge) by S.O. (special order) of the MSG (unknown; Marine Strike Group?). Char. (character) 'Excellent'." Basically, he was involved in a battle with the bandits they were in the Dominican Republic to fight, and 3 days later was sent back to Headquarters and rotated back to the States for discharge.

Total time in service: June 16, 1918 to August 14, 1919; just shy of 14 months.

Also according to family lore there were only a few things that could be saved from the family home in Newport before it was flooded in the Flood of January, 1937, and two of the things Grandpa saved were his Marine Corps uniform and discharge papers.

Interestingly enough, as near as I can tell there were only two Marines in the 1918-1919 period with my Grandpa's name; the other mustered in in April of 1917, and spent his time in France.

Lots of questions answered, but like with any good mystery, more questions remain. What was Special Order 92? What does MSG mean? Strike Group is a fairly modern term, so I doubt it is correct. And why are there months missing?

I just wish I would have been able to have this done a couple of weeks ago, for Veterans Day.

Honor and Respect

Veterans are a special breed.

We have done things no civilian probably has. Some of us had it easy. I like to brag, especially around guys who were in the Army or Marines at the same time I was in the Air Force, that in four years of service to my country I never spent a night without a soft mattress under my butt and a cold beer in the fridge a few steps away.

I especially like to let that 'slip out' after the conversations about 6 weeks in the field during training with only a Saturday Night Shower; or tales of being at sea for 6 months.

But even those guys had it easy, compared to the combat vets. The men who fought from Normandy to Berlin. The men who had ships blown out from under them in the Pacific. The men who then spent two years in Korea. Or Vietnam; the Gulf War; Iraq or Afghanistan or countless other situations where our military men and women have willfully gone into harm's way.

There are other, earlier wars, going all the way back to the Revolution, but veterans of those conflicts are no longer with us, according to Wikipedia.

There are those who hope our country creates no more combat veterans, I among them. War is, as General Sherman described it, Hell. The fewer young men and women we put into that Hell the better.

But I know that is, at least for now an unattainable goal. The world is not full of peace and light and unicorns.

It's full of Iran and Al-Qeada.

We cannot fight Al-Qeada with good will and happy thoughts. We have tried that in the past.

It caused September 11, 2001.

We are seeing the effects again of our slackening resolve against Al-Qeada, with the increasing attacks in Afghanistan. This isn't the 1960's. We can't be the proverbial hippy, poking daisies in the gun barrels we face. The finger on that trigger isn't a well disciplined National Guardsman; its an uneducated young Moslem, hyped up on thoughts of revenge for imagined slights.

So we will, by necessity, create another generation of veterans. We'll send them off to do our dirty work, pray for them while they're gone and honor them when they return; either with a parade, or a flag-draped casket. It is only through our resolve to create and use that force, and, more importantly, the willingness of our young men and women to volunteer to do that dirty work, that this country is and will remain free.

To honor them, every year we set aside a day to recall and honor those men and women, their service, and their sacrifice.

Today is that day.

Take a minute today to thank a veteran you know; I think they have earned it.

If It Says Lite, It Ain't Beer

Okay; I had to share my thoughts on this post at Hot Air.

We can take this one of two ways; either Republicans are finally growing a pair (figuratively ladies) or we have an influx of new folks with a pair who are now identifying themselves as Republican.

I think we are looking at an influx of new Republicans, and we starting to out number the namby-pamby Republicans.

Me? Sam Adams is one of my lighter beers, and I ain't touching any beer with a fruit flavor. If I want a fruit flavor, I'll drink Kool-Aid.

As usual, the comments are worth reading.

One comment I had to agree with whole heartedly, from a commenter called coldwarrior:

Next week at this time I’ll be in an antiseptic environment surrounded by all sorts of folks who will be looking to examine, cut out/off body parts, radiate and flush chemicals all through me…and I think I finally figured out why.

That whole frat years, college days, early Army beer drinking, womanizing, day-old pizza eating lifestyle.

But…was it worth it?

Ohh, yeah….sure was.


It's like I always say: After all the fun I've shown this body through the years, why is it betraying me now?

Out and About on the Internets

I was visiting at The Borderline Sociopathic Blog For Boys when I ran across this post of his, and I just had to share, for several reasons.

First, it is a wooden model. Anybody with access to a couple of trees and chainsaw could make one. Okay, that maybe a simplification, but you know what I mean.

Then there is the way the video explains the entire process, as they add parts to the model to make the next step of the firing process happen. they manage to take a hundred years of weapon development and make it seem like this was all a logical progression.

If you think about what they were trying to do with this video, you have to marvel at the genius behind it.

In the 1940's they had to take men from all walks of life and introduce them to semi and fully automatic weapons. Not just to fire, but to maintain, troubleshoot and depend on, up to the cost of their life.

The pace is a little slow, but then was done 70 years ago; well before the invention of the music video.

Now I've got the bug; somebody may get one of these for Christmas....

I meant the gun, not the video.

Some Memories Just Won't Die

You know I let an anniversary slip by yesterday. It was July 22, 1982 that I became a civilian, after 4 years and 4 days of military service.

It's hard to believe I have been a Civilian that long. Hell, at the time I got out I would have sworn I had already spent 30 years IN the Air Force.

Today; 30 years later, I still don't get through a week with remembering something about that 4 years. I of course have mementos around, but usually it is someone, something or some event that triggers an old memory.

Just tonight I was driving down a suburban street and ran across a sign that said 'SPEED BUMP", and a couple of home-built speed bumps. It put in mind of the Trailer park that once (maybe still is? Yep. Still is) outside Grand Forks Air Force Base. The one gravel street down the middle of that park was nothing more than a series of ruts and potholes. A friend of mine lived over there, and I can tell you it was terrible. Everybody complained about the condition of the road. The guy who owned the place had a solution though. He just put a Speed Bump sign and went about his business.

Every time I had to do some small repetitive task at work I recall some of the things I had to do as part of my job. Paperwork. My God, Napoleon believed that an Army moved on its stomach; The Air Force believed it was pushed by its mountain of paperwork. From after form after form. And all of them had numbers. And effective dates. Heaven help you if you used and outdated form. Or used a 1356b, when the 1357a was actually required.

I still recall the first form I was introduced to in Basic Training (3743 BMTS- Basic Military Training Squadron. MOTTO: Lead, Follow or Get Out of the Way {amazing what the minds remembers, ain't it? But don't ask for my cell phone number}); the 341. And no, I don't remember the suffix letter. I don't believe there was one. A 341 was a disciplinary record. the form itself had to folded just so; I think in half length-wise, and then in half again, then the top half inch was folded over and that tab was used hold the form under the flap of your left breast pocket, left side of the pocket. This way when an infraction was committed, the 341 was 'pulled', filled in by your MTI- Military Training Instructor- and then became part of your 'PERMANENT RECORD'.

I had the dubious pleasure of having a 341 pulled one Sunday morning while I was on Dorm Guard. Which reminds me of another funny story. Each training squadron was filled with Flights of 50 men or 50 women. Some thing I don't recall- so maybe I never knew- was how many flights were in each Squadron. But any rate, each flight had what was called a sister flight, so you had a group of 100 that went through Basic together. Did I mention that the 3743 BMTS was a training Squadron for women? Yep; 900 women, or there abouts, and 100 men. And the US Air Force did their level best to keep us separated.

But I told you that story to tell you this one.

Because we were in a female squadron, our flight had one male MTI, and one female MTI, as did our sister flight. Our female MTI was Airman First Class (A1C) Budd. I am fairly sure that she was not issued a first name.

Any rate, there I am on Sunday morning doing my stint as Dorm Guard. There is a knock at the door. I look out the window in the door to see who is beating the door down on a Sunday morning. It's A1C Budd. I knew who it was. I had seen her everyday for the last 4 weeks. But regulations required I ask for an ID. So I did. As usual, she began some tirade about 'Don't you know who I am; how can you not recognize your own MTI and so on. But I knew the drill, and stood my ground. She produced her ID, which I examined through the door, and then let her in.

As I stood back and opened the door A1C Budd entered the dorm. As she came abreast of me, she looked at me with an inquiring look. "Aren't you supposed to say something?", she asked. Basking in the glow of my recent success with the ID procedure, my mind went temporarily on vacation. So my mouth took over control. I said, "UH.... Good Morning Ma'am?"

And I had a 341 pulled. The one that I had folded Day One of Basic, 4 weeks ago. And had been in my pocket through 4 weeks of July and August Texas heat. It had lost some of its shape. Hell, it had lost MOST of its resemblance to a solid object. I'm not sure I could have even been unfolded. She accepted the 341 and marched to the MTI office. I don't know if she ever filled it out or not.

What was my infraction? As a warning to men in my Flight I was required to shout "Lady Entering the Dorm" when ever we had females in the dorm. But Hell; she wasn't a Lady.

She was my damn Drill Instructor.

History Can't Be Rewritten; But It Can Be Ignored

I have hanging onto this article for a while.

One of the things I hate about the way history is taught is that its taught monolithicly; we never hear about anything that doesn't fit the majority narrative.

Like during the Revolution; did you know that approximately 50% of the citizens of the Colonies did not want Independence form Britain? Did you know that after the war those folks were ruthlessly driven from their homes, and their lands and possessions were confiscated by the new Federal Government?

Did you know that during the Civil War there were slave owners in the North, who were pro-slavery and pro-Union? And that there were also anti-slavery secessionist in the South? facts like these don't fit the narrative, so they are conveniently forgotten.

Just like the black Confederate soldiers. Some of these soldiers were free blacks, some of whom owned black slaves. That just doesn't fit the narrative does it? We are taught to forget that slavery wasn't the evil institution we consider- and should consider- it today, but a legal way of using capital to control labor costs. Does that mean I advocate a return to slavery? Hell no. But if some of the facts aren't given, how can we put events into perspective?

History is always taught by the winners, and the one question constantly presented is why did poor whites, who didn't own slaves, fight for slavery? The answer is easy; and Dr. Williams answers it here; because they were Virginians, or Georgians, and their state was under attack from the damn Yankees.

Our modern country forgets- or is not taught- that as late as the Spanish American War military units were formed and deployed by state, not as an Army in general. Your State was your standard bearer, not your country.

One of the things I hear bandied about is that the country has become ungovernable. Well duh; it was never meant to be governable. The states were the unit where interior government takes place, and no state (okay; I'll except California) is ungovernable.

As usual I wandered a little farther than I should have. But the point is Black Confederate veterans existed. To deny that existence is not only a denial of historical fact, it cheapens the sacrifice made by these men a century and a half ago.

The constant argument on the Civil War is whether it was fought over Slavery or States Rights. Yes, the right the states were fighting to hold was the evil right to hold another person in eternal bondage, which immediately cheapens the argument, which is why the Federalist/Democrats usually fight with that as their weapon of choice.

It is a little disingenuous, and has a modern corollary: individual property rights, and the choice of property owners to allow smoking on their private property. Its hard to argue your right to your property when the response is the evils of smoking.

There is a reason some arguments become so contentious; there are very basic belief differences that have created the different stands, and you can't abandon your stand with out abandoning a core principle, no matter how much the facts fly in the face of your argument.

Kind of like facing an African-American in butternut gray. Its easier to ignore the fact than explain it.

America's Highest Honor

I just had to post this when I read it.

President Obama's remarks are remarkable.

Incredible story, and very illustrative of the best of America.

Remember When I Said

That I wouldn't replace my flag until the people were back in power?

Well, I think today is close enough.

My wife says my flag is disrespectful.

It may be.

But is it more disrespectful to our country and it's Veterans than what has been happening in Washington since March?

Tough call, ain't it?

News You Can Use

I received this story in an email from my Aunt, and was initially going to blog it because it showed the bias in the media.

But always the responsible blogger, I wanted to check the veracity of the story first. Chain emails have been known to get things wrong, and the story seemed to good to be true, as far as confirming the media ban on 'good' stories from the military.

If you followed the link then you know the details, and you know the story is true. You also know that the recent email changed some details.

Which is why I'm doing this post.

The email leaves out the fact that petty Officer Monsoor was a SEAL, probably to make the final tribute seem more poignant.

They also changed the dates of the event and the awarding of the Medal of Honor, probably to make the story a current event.

And that's what has me torqued off at this point.

Somebody thought that they could use this brave SEAL's heroic death to gin up some political controversy, and created LIES about that death and tribute to make it seem like a current event.

And that has me madder than the original story. You don't use heroes for politics.

And the fact that apparently my side of the debate is doing it doesn't make it right; it makes it worse.

We are supposed to know better.

And Some Have Greatness Thrust Upon Them

I may have mentioned that I have an interest in History, and that I work in a historical building; a building whose history I am intimately involved in discovering, documenting and preserving.

Part of that history started 400 years ago. In 1610, in a village in England a son was born. His parents named him James. When he was 22 he emigrated to the North American colonies and settled in Virginia. His son James, his grandson James and his great-grandson James all lived in that same area of Virginia. His great-grandson fought alongside George Washington in two wars, including the one that made Virginia a part of a new nation in the 1780’s. His great-great-grandson James moved to the new state of Kentucky and began a new dynasty.

James number 5 became a military man as well, and had a son James, and a grandson James, number 7 in the line. James the seventh died young, leaving young James the eighth and his sister fatherless. James’ widow moved her young family to Tennessee, to be with her people. James number 8 immigrated to Texas, leaving his Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee roots behind. His son, ninth in a line extending back 300 years left Texas for Colorado, where James the tenth grew up.

This James led quite a life. An Eagle Scout and graduate of West Point, he retired from the Army a full Colonel- after serving 4 years in the South Pacific during WWII, and every other corner of the globe the Army could send him- and 30 plus years of service (including his first parachute jump at the age of forty). Then on to a second career in business and a second retirement in South Carolina. But no James number eleven.

Last month those 400 years of history ended. I never met the man that carried 400 years of history lightly on his shoulders, but we did correspond some and shared a phone call or two. He was personally responsible for almost a quarter of those 400 years himself. At the age of 95 he was mentally alert , wrote with a clear hand and quick with his data. And rightfully proud of his ancestry, which extended another 600 years beyond 1610, through French and English royalty to that great Norman, William the Conqueror.

Folks began to collect autographs as mementos of people the met, folks whom the rest of the world would know, as proof of their brushes with greatness. I have a different measure of greatness. Famous and infamous are two sides of the same coin for me. Greatness to me doesn’t always equate with famous. It’s kind of like the old camel through the eye of a needle concept; it’s easier to be famous than it is to be great and famous, and usually being famous is a more a bar to greatness than a prerequisite.

When it comes to my brushes with greatness, the last James has become my new benchmark.

And Now Lets Look at the Tape

How I Spent My Afternoon

Late this morning we got buzzed by a B-17, flying low and slow. By the time I figured out what the noise was and got outside I just saw the last of it disappearing into the trees.

An hour later when It flew over again I was a little better prepared, and got a shot of the tail end, again just disappearing into the trees.

So this afternoon I decided to camp out on the back porch with the video camera. I would be ready.

The B-17 has to be my favorite WW-II bomber. I don't know why. Maybe it was its record for survivability; or maybe just the shear numbers of them produced. Maybe it is all the guns; leaving no corner unprotected.

They were unheated, unarmored and were shot down over Germany in surprising numbers; but it ain't just me; the B-17 has a massive fan club. I have to get a picture today. Video would be even better.

So for the last 3 hours I have sat on my back porch, jumping every time I heard what I believed to be the rumble of a multi-engined prop plane. The helicopter I jumped up for was not a rookie mistake. It was an old piston engined one, and the echo caused by the porch roof made me mistake it for B-17.

The old pickup without a muffler, coupled with the neighbor's air conditioner and the damned porch roof echo was an easy mistake to make too. Especially if you want it to be a Flying Fortress.

I know I heard it twice, flying just south of me and below the tree line. But could have been an echo coming up the river valley.

Pretty shortly I will need to go to get ready to leave for my Father's Day Dinner, and I still have got nothing to show for my afternoon's labors.

This is supposed to be MY DAY DANG IT!!!

I just need the rest of you to cooperate!

So, here I am finishing up this blog post when I hear the rumble I have been listening for all afternoon. I grab the camera and fly outside. YEP! There it is!

So the camera takes its sweet time to boot up, and I have trouble locating the plane in the sky. Then it goes behind one of my trees!

When it comes out the other side I am ready. I get some fine. long distance footge of her flying away.



And yes; I think it was worth it.

And BLOGGER ate my video!!!!!

6-6-1944

Today is June 6th.

66 years ago today the Allied forces landed in France and began the end of the Third Reich.

Every year on this day I watch The Longest Day. I read the book of the same name by Cornelius Ryan many years ago and have enjoyed the movie for the last few years since I found it on tape.

Its often said that Freedom isn't free, and sometimes I think we are too far away from exactly how high that cost is.

When every family had at least one son or daughter in uniform and everyone knew at least one Gold Star Mother we knew the cost of freedom and weren't willing to let it go cheaply.

Now, we don't know the cost of Freedom, or the price of getting it back. Ben Franklin said those who trade liberty for security deserve neither, and I really don't think we have either at this point.

Each day we lose a little more liberty, for the sake of security, but are no more secure than we were the day before, and maybe less so, because we are now prepared for what the enemy was doing, not what they are doing, but because we have 'done something' we have a false sense of security.

The stories about D-Day- even those produced when a film was supposed to entertain- help put that cost in perspective. Unlike Saving Private Ryan , which manages a realism in both language and gore that The Longest Day lacks, I think Ryan lacks the comprehensive historical overview Day has. And the lack of realism makes for a better story.

I want to review the events of D-Day; not be traumatized by them.

So take a minute today and remember the cost of freedom.

And then ask yourself why we have placed such a low cost on its loss.

Visiting The Heros

A friend sent me this link in an email and I tested it immediately. But I am having trouble describing the experience. I don't want to say it was fun or enjoyable, but I could spend hours there.

This is basically a database of every kid who lost their lives in Vietnam. (Hey; I'm 50 now. Everybody younger than me is a kid. And get off my lawn.) I looked at my state of course, and the first town's name that was in my county. Bellevue is a fairly small community and had 3 names listed. The oldest was 23; youngest was 19.

Most of these heroes were young enough only to be able to be remembered by nieces and nephews. We all may know Uncle Frank died in a war, but do we know where he was buried? What hill or village was valuable enough to someone to cost him his life?

How can you define the cost of war better than a list of of it's dead? And how better to honor their memory than not only keeping their names alive, but also some details that otherwise would get lost in the mists of time, and maybe even forgotten by their families?

I've set this site as a favorite, and intend to spend a few minutes there every morning, remembering a few of the many that paid the ultimate price for my freedoms.

Hail to the Chief

I found this through, as usual, Instapundit this morning. The base article is great, and the comments are just as good.

My only question would be for a Senior Chief who retired in 1960. Would he feel the same about the way the Navy had gone from the days of his enlistment?

I'm only referencing this crap to prove it is real. As always I was listening to the BBC this morning and heard about this report. I got so riled up I had to get up early to blog about it.

I freely admit I have never been to the Tora Bora Mountains. But, based on the news reports I read at the time, This 'report' sounds like revisionist history, And to be leaked a day or two before Obama announces his new and improved Afghanistan policy is just too much for me.

This is typical politics, and one of the prime reasons we need to get rid of both the 'D's and 'R's in Washington. Notice how the blame stops in 2001, when Bush allegedly wouldn't support the troops?

Why did we have just a hundred commandos (does the US even have commandos? Do they mean SEALS?)? Was it because Clinton had so gutted the military we were lucky to be able to after al-Qaeda at all?

Back to the Tora Bora Mountains; this report makes it sound like we had him narrowed down to an area the size and appearance of Central Park (which is probably the wildest area most of these idiots have ever been in. To them a 'Yard' is the potted palm on the terrace), but Tora Bora is actually a little different. A series of caves in a remote and mountainous region, just getting the thousands of troops in there, much less supporting them, would have been a logistical nightmare.

And, this 'report' is based on published and unclassified sources, and has John Kerry's seal of approval.

Well, isn't THAT special?