ChargeOfQuarters

A friend of mine has started blogging!!

2011-02-07T19:45:00.000-08:00

Go and read her first post; you will learn about an amazing woman that I am proud to call a friend, and the incredible life she leads, along with the love of her family.

Keep it up, Cori!!

Col John McHugh, RIP

2010-05-20T10:58:00.000-07:00

Rumors of my death have been axaggerated...

2010-05-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

Sorry; been busy. But hopefully I can find a few minutes every now and again to post something I find interesting, or rant about something...

Oh, and I hate Papelbon... Eff the Red Sux

Go and Read

2010-05-19T07:23:00.000-07:00

http://reason.com/blog/2010/05/18/get-ready-for-everyone-draw-mo

After you finish, draw your picture of Muhammed~!!

Groggy & Irritable

2009-02-14T00:23:00.000-08:00

Ever since the car accident my wife and I were in, I've been pretty groggy and irritable, due to an injury to my shoulder.

I received a cortisone shot today, in the hopes that it will alleviate some of the pain; if not, then I am on the schedule for surgery.

Just pray for me; this really sucks big time.

Well Now I Can Sleep Easier!

2008-09-08T13:57:00.000-07:00

The NFL has determined that the hit on Brady was legal...

Now the NFL is going to look at all hits to QBs? What a bunch of morons.

If you cannot stand getting hit, take up a real sport, like Curling, dipshits!

Pussies.

Now this is funny!!!

2008-09-08T10:30:00.000-07:00

Go here and watch this!!!

And people wonder why I have a shirt that says. "I (club) Hippies!"....

Watch this

2008-09-08T09:36:00.000-07:00

Powerful video.

Taken from American Digest.

DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2008-09-08T06:28:00.000-07:00

Tom Brady, shellacked by the Chiefs in the 1st half of the fit quarter yesterday... probably torn ACL and MCL. Done for the year, as are the Pats...

Almost sorry to see it happen.

Quick recovery, Tom!!!

Great Article on Freedom

2008-07-31T07:51:00.000-07:00

Go and read; it will only take about 5 minutes, but it will be well spent

Not too bad

2008-07-23T08:55:00.001-07:00

50 feet, open sights, .22 lr.

No truer words have existed...

2008-07-04T07:44:00.000-07:00

The Declaration of Independence of the Thirteen Colonies

The Declaration of Independence of the Thirteen Colonies
In CONGRESS, July 4, 1776

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. --That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. —Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain [George III] is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by the Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

The signers of the Declaration represented the new states as follows:

New Hampshire

Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple, Matthew Thornton

Massachusetts

John Hancock, Samuel Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry

Rhode Island

Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery

Connecticut

Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott

New York

William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris

New Jersey

Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark

Pennsylvania

Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross

Delaware

Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean

Maryland

Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton

Virginia

George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton

North Carolina

William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn

South Carolina

Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton

Georgia

Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton

One More Thing On The Super Bowl

2008-02-04T07:39:00.000-08:00

Tom Brady,

DENIED

The whole team went out there totally believing that they were a team of destiny, and got towsed all over the field. He was sacked 5 times, and overall they stunk up the field.

This defeat will haunt them for the rest of their lives. All of you Patriot fans who think that they can do all this again - go undefeated and then into the Super Bowl with another shot at perfection, well, mark my words:

If they can do this again next year, I will take a picture of my naked ass in front of the Capitol Building in California at noon (fully expecting to be arrested) the following day.

Not gonna happen, ever.

So, Kudos to the '72 Dolphins (even though they beat my Beloved Redskins in their Super Bowl), keep popping that bubbly.

And, F-you, Belichick - leaving the field while the rest of your team had go out for the final second. Way to be a leader and example for your team. Prick. Also, way to congratulate the other team - oh - wait, you didn't. What a little child.

Way to go, Giants!!! Blahopr'ani!!!

That is all.

Still unsure...

2008-02-03T17:50:00.000-08:00

Of who I will be voting for in the Primary...

Not sure if I should vote my conscience and go with Huckabee (now that Thompson is out of it), or go with Romney, whom I trust like the Mayor of Boston (spit).

Still pondering...

Just for the record,

2008-02-03T17:47:00.000-08:00

Bill Beilichek and the Patriots can smoke my Havana.

What a cheap piece of shit.

I hope he gets exhaustive diarrhea.

2008-02-03T17:45:00.000-08:00

In 1968 (the year you were born)

Lyndon B. Johnson is president of the US

North Koreans seize USS Pueblo and 83 man crew in the Sea of Japan

Communist troops attack Saigon and 30 province capitals in the "Tet Offensive"

Martin Luther King is assassinated in Memphis, TN

Senator Robert F. Kennedy is shot in California after celebrating presidential primary victories

American troops destroy a town in South Vietnam in the "My Lai Massacre"

Peggy Fleming wins Olympics figure skating gold medal

The United States Congress repeals the requirement for a gold reserve to back US currency

Student protesters at Columbia University in New York City take over administration buildings and shut down the university

LL Cool J, Lisa Marie Presley, Jeri Ryan, Lucy Lawless, Celine Dion, Traci Lords, Tony Hawk, Kylie Minogue, and Sammy Sosa are born

Detroit Tigers win the World Series

Green Bay Packers win Superbowl II

Montreal Canadians win the Stanley Cup

2001: A Space Odyssey and Planet of the Apes are the top grossing movies

The rock musical Hair opens on Broadway

The Beatles' White Album and Simon and Garfunkel's Bookends are released

Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In, debuts on NBC

What Happened the Year You Were Born?

WTF????

2008-01-22T18:31:00.001-08:00

Would you send someone here???

Read more here...

Only in Boston.

Irony?

2007-12-11T06:48:00.000-08:00

Does anyone but me find it ironic that the only team that has ever gone undefeated in NFL history will be the first team to go winless in a season?

Miami flat out sucks ass. My son and 8 of his friends could whip their butts, and still have time to try to beat my daughter's friends at softball (which would never happen).

There has never been a team to go 0-16 in NFL history. When the NFL was formed in 1920, winless seasons were not uncommon. In fact, for the first ten years, from 1920-29, there was always at least one team which went winless. Between 1930 and World War II, only the 1934 Cincinnati Reds went winless. The Reds were 0-8-0 when they folded with three games remaining in the season. A new team, called the St. Louis Gunners, was formed. The Gunners had been an independent team operating in the area and they went 1-2 in the remaining three games.

World War II saw a fewer players available for NFL action and, as a result, some teams suffered more than others. The 1942 Detroit Lions went 0-11; the 1943 Chicago Cardinals went 0-10 and the combined Card-Pitt team of 1944 went 0-10.

Since World War II, only the expansion Dallas Cowboys of 1960 (0-11-1), the expansion Tampa Bay Bucs of 1976 (0-14), and the 1982 Baltimore Colts (0-8-1 in a strike-shortened season) have gone winless. (stolen from http://en.allexperts.com/q/Football-Trivia-General-2550/Scoreless-record-NFL-History.htm)

So now maybe that champagne will not get chilled anymore. Good.

Oh, and Brady can kiss my @$$.

Never Forget

2007-12-07T12:57:00.001-08:00

That is all.

Finally, Karma rears its head.

2007-09-17T17:52:00.000-07:00

If you haven't heard, OJ is back in jail. Almost a shame, except for the fact that he killed 2 people... and got away with it.

Maybe the jury will be a little smarter this time.

One can hope!!

MNF

2007-09-17T17:46:00.000-07:00

As I watch Monday Night Football and my beloved Redskins take on the Eagles, I have come to the conclusion that those announcers simply suck ass. I would rather listen to Arabic music than listen to those morons. Seriously. While pulling guard duty in Saudi Arabia I had the opportunity to listen to the priests call the flock to worship at the mosques. At 0350. In the morning. And they sounded better than the guys on Monday night Football.

Go Skins!!!

6 Years Ago....

2007-09-10T20:03:00.000-07:00

Never Forget. Honor them by remembering them, and those that fight for us and our way of life.

New Footall Season!!

2007-09-09T11:11:00.002-07:00

And the players are still a bunch of criminals (see Michael Vick), I still loathe the 9ers and the Cowboys, and the Redskins will not make the playoffs this year.

My prediction: Bears and Colts in another Super Bowl, and the Colts win in a blowout, 38-27....

Bret Favre should have retired 2 years ago, God love him.. His team is crumbling around him and even he cannot resurrect it from mediocrity...

I will weep when baseball is over.

UPDATE: Favre intercepted already, in the 1st quarter of his first game... I will keep a running tally over the course of the season..

Do not get me wrong; Favre is a great player, and a first ballot hall of famer. But his playing is like using a bail bucket on the Titanic. He does not have the talent to support him.

Just my $.02.... Your mileage may vary

New Footall Season

2007-09-09T11:11:00.001-07:00

Cold War Again?

2007-08-09T18:15:00.000-07:00

I read somewhere that the Russkies are warming up their Bear and other bombers and starting to run patrols around the world.

If that is the case then I think we should start the good ol' "Looking Glass" and start the B-52s flying around the world again...

If Putin wants to play, then I am confident we can oblige his Russian ass.....

At last, it is beginning to calm down

2007-08-01T18:53:00.001-07:00

My summer, I mean.

After all the camping and the sports, it all seems to be coming to a close.

The final outing was last week, with Boy Scout camp with my son. It was the longest he had been away from his mom, but he did great. His first merit badge he earned was Rifle Shooting, and if he keeps it up, he might become a better shooter than me (I need to go the range, badly). He earned 3 in all, and did great leaps in becoming a First Class Scout.

As for me, I am doing well, and am pretty happy.

I hope you all are the same.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, US Army!!!!!

2007-06-14T08:28:00.000-07:00

232 and still going strong!!!

Remember Today...

2007-06-06T10:31:00.000-07:00

We're here to mark that day in history when the Allied armies joined in battle to reclaim this continent to liberty. For four long years, much of Europe had been under a terrible shadow. Free nations had fallen, Jews cried out in the camps, millions cried out for liberation. Europe was enslaved, and the world prayed for its rescue. Here, in Normandy, the rescue began. Here, the Allies stood and fought against tyranny, in a giant undertaking unparalleled in human history.

We stand on a lonely, windswept point on the northern shore of France. The air is soft, but forty years ago at this moment, the air was dense with smoke and the cries of men, and the air was filled with the crack of rifle fire and the roar of cannon. At dawn, on the morning of the 6th of June, 1944, 225 Rangers jumped off the British landing craft and ran to the bottom of these cliffs. Their mission was one of the most difficult and daring of the invasion: to climb these sheer and desolate cliffs and take out the enemy guns. The Allies had been told that some of the mightiest of these guns were here, and they would be trained on the beaches to stop the Allied advance.

The Rangers looked up and saw the enemy soldiers at the edge of the cliffs, shooting down at them with machine guns and throwing grenades. And the American Rangers began to climb. They shot rope ladders over the face of these cliffs and began to pull themselves up. When one Ranger fell, another would take his place. When one rope was cut, a Ranger would grab another and begin his climb again. They climbed, shot back, and held their footing. Soon, one by one, the Rangers pulled themselves over the top, and in seizing the firm land at the top of these cliffs, they began to seize back the continent of Europe. Two hundred and twenty-five came here. After two days of fighting, only ninety could still bear arms.

Behind me is a memorial that symbolizes the Ranger daggers that were thrust into the top of these cliffs. And before me are the men who put them here. These are the boys of Pointe du Hoc. These are the men who took the cliffs. These are the champions who helped free a continent. These are the heroes who helped end a war. Gentlemen, I look at you and I think of the words of Stephen Spender's poem. You are men who in your "lives fought for life and left the vivid air singed with your honor."

I think I know what you may be thinking right now -- thinking "we were just part of a bigger effort; everyone was brave that day." Well, everyone was. You remember the story of Bill Millin of the 51st Highlanders? Forty years ago today, British troops were pinned down near a bridge, waiting desperately for help. Suddenly, they heard the sound of bagpipes, and some thought they were dreaming. Well, they weren't. They looked up and saw Bill Millin with his bagpipes, leading the reinforcements and ignoring the smack of bullets into the ground around him.

Lord Lovat was with him -- Lord Lovat of Scotland, who calmly announced when he got to the bridge, "Sorry, I'm a few minutes late," as if he'd been delayed by a traffic jam, when in truth he'd just come form the bloody fighting on Sword Beach, which he and his men had just taken.

There was the impossible valor of the Poles who threw themselves between the enemy and the rest of Europe as the invasion took hold, and the unsurpassed courage of the Canadians who had already seen the horrors of war on this coast. They knew what awaited them there, but they would not be deterred. And once they hit Juno Beach, they never looked back.

All of these men were part of a roll call of honor with names that spoke of a pride as bright as the colors they bore; The Royal Winniped Rifles, Poland's 24th Lancers, the Royal Scots Fusiliers, the Screaming Eagles, the Yeomen of England's armored divisions, the forces of Free France, the Coast Guard's "Matchbox Fleet," and you, the American Rangers.

Forty summers have passed since the battle that you fought here. You were young the day you took these cliffs; some of you were hardly more than boys, with the deepest joys of life before you. Yet, you risked everything here. Why? Why did you do it? What impelled you to put aside the instinct for self-preservation and risk your lives to take these cliffs? What inspired all the men of the armies that met here? We look at you, and somehow we know the answer. It was faith and belief. It was loyalty and love.

The men of Normandy had faith that what they were doing was right, faith that they fought for all humanity, faith that a just God would grant them mercy on this beachhead, or on the next. It was the deep knowledge -- and pray God we have not lost it -- that there is a profound moral difference between the use of force for liberation and the use of force for conquest. You were here to liberate, not to conquer, and so you and those others did not doubt your cause. And you were right not to doubt.

You all knew that some things are worth dying for. One's country is worth dying for, and democracy is worth dying for, because it's the most deeply honorable form of government ever devised by man. All of you loved liberty. All of you were willing to fight tyranny, and you knew the people of your countries were behind you.

The Americans who fought here that morning knew word of the invasion was spreading through the darkness back home. They fought -- or felt in their hearts, though they couldn't know in fact, that in Georgia they were filling the churches at 4:00 am., in Kansas they were kneeling on their porches and praying, and in Philadelphia they were ringing the Liberty Bell.

Something else helped the men of D-day; their rock-hard belief that Providence would have a great hand in the events that would unfold here; that God was an ally in this great cause. And so, the night before the invasion, when Colonel Wolverton asked his parachute troops to kneel with him in prayer, he told them: Do not bow your heads, but look up so you can see God and ask His blessing in what we're about to do. Also, that night, General Matthew Ridgway on his cot, listening in the darkness for the promise God made to Joshua: "I will not fail thee nor forsake thee."

These are the things that impelled them; these are the things that shaped the unity of the Allies.

When the war was over, there were lives to be rebuilt and governments to be returned to the people. There were nations to be reborn. Above all, there was a new peace to be assured. These were huge and daunting tasks. But the Allies summoned strength from the faith, belief, loyalty, and love of those who fell here. They rebuilt a new Europe together. There was first a great reconciliation among those who had been enemies, all of whom had suffered so greatly. The United States did its part, creating the Marshall Plan to help rebuild our allies and our former enemies. The Marshall Plan led to the Atlantic alliance -- a great alliance that serves to this day as our shield for freedom, for prosperity, and for peace.

In spite of our great efforts and successes, not all that followed the end of the war was happy or planned. Some liberated countries were lost. The great sadness of this loss echoes down to our own time in the streets of Warsaw, Prague, and East Berlin. Soviet troops that came to the center of this continent did not leave when peace came. They're still there, uninvited, unwanted, unyielding, almost forty years after the war. Because of this, allied forces still stand on this continent. Today, as forty years ago, our armies are here for only one purpose: to protect and defend democracy. The only territories we hold are memorials like this one and graveyards where our heroes rest.

We in America have learned bitter lessons from two world wars. It is better to be here ready to protect the peace, than to take blind shelter across the sea, rushing to respond only after freedom is lost. We've learned that isolationism never was and never will be an acceptable response to tyrannical governments with an expansionist intent. But we try always to be prepared for peace, prepared to deter aggression, prepared to negotiate the reduction of arms, and yes, prepared to reach out again in the spirit of reconciliation. In truth, there is no reconciliation we would welcome more than a reconciliation with the Soviet Union, so, together, we can lessen the risks of war, now and forever.

It's fitting to remember here the great losses also suffered by the Russian people during World War II: 20 million perished, a terrible price that testifies to all the world the necessity of ending war. I tell you from my heart that we in the United States do not want war. We want to wipe from the face of the earth the terrible weapons that man now has in his hands. And I tell you, we are ready to seize that beachhead. We look for some sign from the Soviet Union that they are willing to move forward, that they share our desire and love for peace, and that they will give up the ways of conquest. There must be a changing there that will allow us to turn our hope into action.

We will pray forever that someday that changing will come. But for now, particularly today, it is good and fitting to renew our commitment to each other, to our freedom, and to the alliance that protects it.

We're bound today by what bound us 40 years ago, the same loyalties, traditions, and beliefs. We're bound by reality. The strength of America's allies is vital to the United States, and the American security guarantee is essential to the continued freedom of Europe's democracies. We were with you then; we are with you now. Your hopes are our hopes, and your destiny is our destiny.

Here, in this place where the West held together, let us make a vow to our dead. Let us show them by our actions that we understand what they died for. Let our actions say to them the words for which Matthew Ridgway listened: "I will not fail thee nor forsake thee."

Strengthened by their courage, heartened by their valor and borne by their memory, let us continue to stand for the ideals for which they lived and died.

Thank you very much, and God bless you all.

Ronald Reagan's Speech at Pointe du Hoc, June 6, 1984.

interetsting turn of events

2007-05-03T14:41:00.000-07:00

It has been quite a week.

First, my sister's step dad lost a long battle with cancer (God be with you, Will), my dad goes into the hospital with pneumonia and very elevated glucose levels...

In addition to that, what else can happen this week???

Refresher Course For Americans

2007-04-26T07:03:00.000-07:00

There will be a quiz later.

1. An armed man is a citizen. An unarmed man is a subject.

2. A gun in the hand is better than a cop on the phone.

3. Colt: The original point and click interface.

4. Gun control is not about guns; it's about control.

5. If guns are outlawed, can we use swords?

6. If guns cause crime, then pencils cause misspelled words.

7. Free men do not ask permission to bear arms.

8. If you don't know your rights, you don't have any.

9. Those who trade liberty for security have neither.

10. The United States Constitution (c)1791. All Rights Reserved.

11. What part of "shall not be infringed" do you not understand?

12. The Second Amendment is in place in case the politicians ignore the others.

13. 64,999,987 firearms owners killed no one yesterday.

14. Guns only have two enemies; rust and politicians.

15. Know guns, know peace, know safety. No guns, no peace, no safety.

16. You don't shoot to kill; you shoot to stay alive.

17. 911: Government sponsored Dial-a-Prayer.

18. Assault is a behavior, not a device.

19. Criminals love gun control; it makes their jobs safer.

20. If guns cause crime, then matches cause arson.

21. Only a government that is afraid of its citizens tries to control them.

22. You have only the rights you are willing to fight for.

23. Enforce the gun control laws we ALREADY have; don't make more.

24. When you remove the people's right to bear arms, you create slaves.

25. The American Revolution would never have happened with gun control.

Slam Dunk!!!

2007-04-19T10:07:00.000-07:00

I have read many articles in the wake of the tragedy at VA Tech, but this one is one of the best.

When will people realize that "Gun-Free" Zones take away the ability of people the right and obligation to defend themselves? All of theses shooting that occur are in such zones. It is also true that when people have had access to their legally-owned weapons they have stopped such attempts at slaughter?

What part of "Shall Not Be Infringed" do you not understand?

How To Make Campuses Safer?

2007-04-17T06:26:00.000-07:00

As I was reading again this morning about the horror that happened at VA Tech yesterday, there was an article by Time Magazine, entitled, "How to Make Our Campuses Safer." He drones on by saying that metal detectors and video surveillance would make it safer. I am waving my Bullshit Flag right now. Vigorously.

You want to make our students safer? I can tell you right now: Freshman year, every student takes a Self Defense shooting class. Those students that wish, after passing the class and other legislative hoops that state and federal governments have established, may arm themselves and carry concealed handguns on campus. It is that simple. Give the people that attend that school (and those that work there) the means to defend themselves. Police response times can be as much as four minutes; a lot of people were dead by then .... Last year the VA General Assembly shot down the opportunity for students to do just that, for the appearance of feeling safer (hat tip to Kim.).

That Is All. I welcome comments from the gallery...

UPDATE: For a fantastic review of this senseless tragedy, go see The LawDog.
But you shoud be reading his stuff anyway...

UPDATE2: Amen.

Anyone Home?

2007-03-26T07:58:00.000-07:00

Knock Knock!!

OK, TROOPERS, TIME TO GET UP!

Get this place cleaned up, and I will be back in a few for a platoon meeting...

If You Are Ever In The Neighborhood

2006-12-13T13:47:00.000-08:00

Of Nuremburg, Germany, during this time of year, I recommend you hot the town square and peruse the Chriskindlesmarkt, the Christmas market. It is nothing but fun.

When I had the great fortune to be assigned in Germany, my wifeand I went every year. OUr first time was probably the best, as we had never experienced it before.

We got off at the sueway station (U-Bahn) right at the marketplace and went right upstairs. The first thing we see is a booth selling Gluhwein, or mulled wine. As it was in the area of Frickin' Cold, we promptly ordered one, and man they hit the spot immediately. So we were walking around, looking at all the goods for sale, and we hit upon a Bratwurst stand.

Now, I am a huge fan of Brats. But there are brats and there are Nurnberger Brats

These brats are slimmer than the normal brat, and they would serve them on a hard roll with spicy German mustard. As soon as I had my first one, I was hooked (those are probably the things I miss most of all about Germany, and I saw a lot over there).

So here I am, fat, dumb, and happy, with my new wife (we had been married the previous July, and she only arrived in Germany the week before Thanksgiving, so we were almost on a honeymoon) drinking spiced wine and eating brats, freezing our asses off all the while looking at some beautiful Christmas trinkets and just enjoying each other's company.

As soon as we finished one, we were already coming up to the next Brat or Gluhwein stand.... they knew how to space them apart, it seemed..

By the end of the day we were half drunk and had eaten more than we possibly should have.

We went the next 4 weekends... or so it seemed.

Those are the times I miss....

New Post From Bill Whittle

2006-11-15T21:50:00.000-08:00

I am a little late, but Mr. Whittle has posted something new.

Go read..... and learn.

Go and Vote Today

2006-11-07T13:16:00.000-08:00

A hell of a lot of good men died to make sure that we keep our representative form of government alive for the past 200-plus years.

Honor their memory today, and Friday, Veterans Day...

God Bless America!

Hey, Commie!

2006-11-02T17:25:00.000-08:00

So, we walk over to the border, and Mr. V begins to tell us all about the border and the mission of what goes on during the border trace missions. Our job is basically what they call a "Show of Force"; we make sure that the Commie Horde across the fenceline knows we are there. We fly every day, along the exact same route, 1oo meters away from the border and report if there is anything untoward (unusual troop movements or formations, excessive troop formations, etc). If we do see anything, we report to the border camps, who then report it on up the chain of command (regiment to Corps, etc) until it reaches the Higher Brass. Otherwise, we just fly and check in every 15 minutes. For me, I was just in the back along for the ride...

After about 20 minutes on the ground, the East German soldiers that were looking at us with their high powered binos finally got their information (I am pretty sure that they took loads of pictures and recorded aircraft tail numbers so they can tell their Soviet masters how we were singlehandedly going to kill them and take over East Germany), they got back on their motorcycle and went back inside their tower, so they could keep vigil over their citizens.

Finally, we got back in our birds and flew off, continuing the trace.

About halfway through the trace we needed to stop for fuel. So we landed at the airport at Hof, which was in the area that was right at the borders of East Germany, West Germany, and Czechoslovakia, what we called the Tri-Border Area. It was a small airport, and from ther we could see part of the city proper (if you knew what to look for, you could actially see where the Allied forces had set markers to blow up bridges and buildings in case the Soviets and East Germans decided to come across). It was a tyoical German city, with old style buildings and cobblestone roads. I had the opportunity to visit it later in my tour, and really enjoyed it.

After we got fuel, the officers took me inside and we sat at the restaurant for lunch. I ordered some kind of schnitzel, and immediately fell in love with it. For only about 7 DM (about 4 dollars), I got two huge peices of the schnitzel and some fries.... and a coke. It was awesome (I would order that no less than 200 more times during my missions along the border).

Once full, and with full fuel tanks, we too off and flew for a couple more hours. About 15 minutes into this leg of the flight, we got company... in the form of what we called a "White Elephant" - also known as a Mi-24 Hind helicopter. I was pretty nervous, but Mr. V said that this was a common occurence and not to worry. We reported it in, telling them where we saw it and the other requisite information.

I just sat back and enjoyed the ride, and took it all in.

I could not believe that I was getting paid to do this...

By the Way

2006-11-02T07:50:00.000-08:00

I am not sure which is worse...

As a veteran, I was insulted by what Senator Kerry (Asshole, MA) said about getting a good education or else you would get stuck in Iraq (I would kill to go back there and serve again). But I have pretty thick skin and could care less what that man (who has commited treason, by the way) opines of me. His record with regards to the military is long and dishonorable, to say the least.

But as a soldier, to insult my Commander -in-Chief (who I am sure most troops would gladly and proudly take a bullet)?

You decide...

Meeting the Commie Horde

2006-11-01T21:26:00.001-08:00

It was still winter, 1989. I had been in Germany for about 7 months, and was getting into the routine of things. My wife had been with me since just before the previous Thanksgiving, and had started her new job at a day care center at the barracks nearest where we lived. We were getting into the routine of living in Germany and being comfortable.

I had just come from some Czech language refresher training down in the awesome city of Munich. Six weeks of intense training, and I was seriously spoiled while I was down there. Of course we had PT and the usual gamut of Army stuff, but for the most part it was a school and we were in class all day learning and re-learning our target languages.

After it was over, I returned to my unit, as began to perform duties that I had been training for over two years. But one day, I was asked if I wanted to fly and check out the border area. I jumped at the chance; how many people can say that they literally saw the Iron Curtain??

So I jumped in a OH-58 helicopter, and, along with another AH-1 Cobra helicopter, off we went to perform what was called a Border Trace. This was a mission where the helicopters simply flew 100 meters off the border of both East Germany and Czechslovakia. The heliccopters flew right along the border, and checked in with the border camps that were in the area at certain times to make sure that we were OK and not involved with any mishaps. Border Traces were the bread and butter of the 4th Squadron, 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment (2ACR). 2 ACR was the tripwire for NATO; if there was a war, we were the first line of defense for NATO, and we would give the Commies one hell of a fight before we got annihilated...

Once in the air, I was like a kid in a candy store, I was so happy. I had never seen Germany like this, as my primary duties kept me from looking out the windows (we flew higher than the border trace missions). I was in a helicopter I had never flown in before (the '58 was much smaller than the Blackhawk - which was the bird I normally flew in; almost claustrophobic until you got used to it), and here I was flying literally along Freedom's Frontier. To say that it was cool would be the Understatement of the Century.

All of a sudden I hear the pilot of the Cobra, Mr. V, tell the pilots of the '58 that we are going to land and check it out, as there were others besides me that had never flown this close to the border before. I immediately thought that this was in the realm of A Bad Idea... But, as I was literally the lowest ranking trooper there, I kept my mouth shut, as all good soldiers are supposed to. So we find a clear area and land the helicopters, and get out. We hang at the scout bird until Mr. V comes over and tells us to take our name tags off. As we were all wearing flight suits, our name tags were leather rectangles that were attached to the flight suit by velcro. So we just took them off and put them into our pockets. This was for security purposes, obviously....

So we walk over towards the border of East Germany, and Mr. V begins to tell us about how it is all set up.

A little background on Mr. V. He was a Chief Warrant Officer 2 at the time, and he had been in and out of the 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment several times. He literally knew the border areas like the back of his hand; he often admitted to dreaming he was flying it... a lot. So if there was anyone in the entire United States VII Corps (or West Germany) that knew what he was talking about when it came to the border, it was him (I was actually on another mission later in the year with him when we did a stop along the border and the West German Customs Police came up to us and told us we had committed a border violation. They argued with Mr. V for 10 minutes until he showed them exactly where they were wrong (the border stone that marked the border had overgrown with high grass, and he pointed it to the Border cops.... They sheepishly drove away)). Of course, I had no way of knowing any of this at the time, but I trusted my officers, and decided that everything would be OK...

So we go up to the border and he starts showing us all the different parts of the stuff the East Germans used to keep their citizens inside their Worker's Paradise - the minefields, the plowed ground that shows footprints if walked on, the guard tower, and the two different fences that kept everyone in.

As Mr. V was talking, the bottom of the guard tower opened, and 2 East German guards came out of the tower, jumped on a motorcycle, and drove to the other fence. They got off the bike, and used high powered binoculars to check us out.

Now, one thing that annoyed me whenever I flew Border missions (which I would do a lot over the next year), was that all of us were unarmed. The attack helcopters were also unarmed. This meant that if something were to happen, like, say, a war starting while we were in the middle of a mission, then we were all in Deep Shit. There is only one person I ever knew that flew a border mission armed, and he was an Air Cavalry Troop Commander, a Captain, and his shit did not stink. I was never sure if the Command knew about it, and I would say they probably did, but they probably turned the other cheek to it (the captain was also flying with a personal, and not a US Government issued, sidearm, and I knew that was a big NO NO... but what the hell, it was a weekend at the time, and as I always say when it comes to weapons: It Is Better To Have It And Not Need It Than To Need It And Not Have It. So I do not blame him; if anything, I envied him (both that he had the balls to do it and he had a kick ass pistol that I wanted.

But I digress...(to be continued)

Political Suicide...

2006-10-31T12:03:00.000-08:00

John Kerry - you know, the guy who fought in Vietnam? - made a remark yesterday that made me want to bash my windsheild in when I heard it this morning....

You know, education, if you make the most of it, if you study hard and you do your homework, and you make an effort to be smart, uh, you, you can do well. If you don't, you get stuck in Iraq.

I cannot believe he would insult so many people with so few words...

Just wow...

Michelle Malkin has the full hot order on this latest gaffe by the Asshole-In-Chief. I am sure that by day's end he will be tripping all over himself..

He can lick my butt and suck on my balls, as the words to "America, F*** Yeah!" go.

On the other hand, as he is from the Commonwealth of MassOf2Shits, he will be reelected by a landslide...

UPDATE: He apologizes, after he says he will not apologize... But my question is this... He has the ability to gather cameras in front of his face, yet he dedides to post it on his web site rather than speak it to the cameras... Asshole...

Mandatory Reading for Americans

2006-10-31T11:59:00.000-08:00

This is worth reading, and vitally important. I have been thinking the same thing for years...

God help us if we do not stop these threats, and if we lose control of our Congress...

She Won't Stop Crying!!

2006-09-23T22:13:00.000-07:00

My wonderful daughter was born almost 13 years ago, and, like most parents, it has not been gravy. But there is one event that stands out to me as one of the biggest crises I had to deal with as a parent.

It was precisely 6 days after I became a parent.

She was born at a military hospital in Texas, and as a soldier, I was given a week off to take care of both baby and mom. All seemed to be going well, until my wife got sick. She was unable to sleep, and we both decided that she needed to goto the hospital and get looked at.

So, she left me with my newborn daughter and went to the doctor's to see what she could get, as she looked and felt horrible.

All seemed to be going well, until my daughter woke up, hungry.

She had been nursing, and so when I tried to feed her it would have been the first time using a bottle. Normally, from what I understand, it is easier feeding from a bottle than nursing naturally, but of course I am not that lucky. She would not take from the bottle, and there was nothing that I could do to persuade her from feeding from that bottle.

And still she cried.

And cried.

And wailed.

And I was getting more and more frustrated that I could not calm this 6 day old girl.

So, I did what any guy would do, as least what I thought any guy would do.

I called my mommy.

And she was not home.

Or at work.

So, I called my mother-in-law.

And she was not available, either.

So, after anguishing and trying everything in my power as a father of this child to get her to calm down and feed her, anything to get her to stop crying, I did what any good soldier would do.

I called my Platoon Leader's wife.

She answered the phone and I immediately felt relief. I told her my predicament, and she calmed me down and told me that everythingwas going to be OK, that this was sort of a common occurence. Not to worry, that she would evenually ho back to sleep, and that Tamm

It helped, but only sort of. She was still crying, and I was worried not only for my sanity, but my wife. I had not heard from her in a while, and was concerned that something was wrong.

As it turned out, she has some sort of infection, and they wanted to keep her at the hospital for a couple of days. She informed them that she had a newborn at home and that her husband needed her, and she had a baby to take care of. So, reluctantly, they let her go and gave her some antibiotics. With the antibiotics she would no longer beable to nurse, but at this point she did not care; she was really sick and wanted to sleep.

Back at home, my daughter is still crying, and I am still frantic. Finally, after what seemed like forever, my wife returned home, anttbiotics in hand. She looked at me and could tell that I was flustered. She took the baby, and almost immediately stoppped crying, and withni a few minutes had taken the bottle ans was eating.

I felt both stupid and relieved. I guess a mother's touch is all thst it needed.

One of these days, all these almost 13 years later, it will be payback time....

Paragon Trail

2006-09-17T13:59:00.000-07:00

We awoke at our normal time, 0330. It was a half hour before the rest of the company. Why? Because we were the Third Herd. 3rd Platoon, Bravo Three-Five. Baddest of them all. We made our bunks and got our gear ready for the march that we would be taking.

It was our final test, for the most part. We would have about a 23 mile march, in full gear, followed by Paragon Trail, the final assualt objective in Basic Training. We were pretty stoked for it.

After breakfast we got our gear, rifles, gas masks and got ready to go. All the Drill Sergeants were ready, and even the Company Commander had a ruck (military slang for backpack) that seemed full (I am sure it was full of newspapers - it looked too perfect) of gear.

We had all of our gear: rucksack with extra clothes, Chemical gear, shelter half, mess kit, and other crap, plus our load bearing equipment (LBE) which held our immediate combat gear (ammo, canteens, first aid kit, flashlight), and of course our uniforms and boots.

We started marching at about 0600, and soon after the sun came up, it began to get hot (it was still late September, in New Jersey). But after a few miles, we stopped and took a break. We all had to take our boots off and check for blisters. If we had some, we had to have the Drill Sergeants take a look at them and treat them. Otherwise we had to put powder on our feet and change our socks if they were too sweaty.

After the break, we trudged on, in classic company formation (all platoons in formation, marching in line). We were not allowed to talk; we just put one foot in front of the other. At first the Drill Sergeants were with their platoons, but after a while the were all over the company, as if surrounding it at the corners. I noticed this, and looked at my Battle Buddy, Bond (he and I enlisted together out of High School). I told him, quietly, of course, to take a look around. He agreed; it was a prime opportunity for them to "gas" us.

What I mean by gassing is that they would throw CS gas, which is a very, very effective riot agent. It is basically Mace on steroids. We had all been through the gas chamber, where we went in not to get to know what CS is like, but to give us confidence in our chemical protective equipment. Trust me, no one likes CS....

So, I noticed that the Drill Sergeants had moved to the outer perimeter of the company, and I knew that it was just a matter of time that they would be throwing CS grenades at us. So I put my hand on the cover of my protective (gas) mask, and waited.

And waited.

And we marched. Up and down hills, on tank trails, with talcolm powder for sand.

Eventually I gave up about the possibility of being gassed and continued marching, not thinking about anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

All of a sudden, it must have been about 4 miles after I thought about it, I heard in a loud voice, "GAS GAS GAS!!!!" I look and immediately see the white smoke that indicated that grenades had gone off. I immediately closed my eyes and held my breath, grabbing the flap of my protective mask, pulling it open. I grabbed my mask and put it over my face, grabbing the straps over my head and tightened them, then cleared it by forcefully blowing the air that I had held, then sucked in while holding the filter hole, and making sure that the mask was properly sealed and no outside air was coming in or there was a leak in my mask. There wasn't. The time a soldier has to perform this task is 8 seconds, and we had been drilled on in for about three weeks now, off and on. I was good at this, because I do not like throwing up and seeing my own snot in a continuous stream from my nose to the ground (trust me; it is NOT a pretty sight).

I finished with the hood of my mask and made sure I was good to go (the final step is to yell out, "GAS GAS GAS" and make the motion for a chemical attack. I did this, and off to my left I heard a hissing sound, getting louder.

I looked behind me and I saw Drill Sergeant Simpson running wearing what looked like a welder's glove (heavy, for holding hot steel). In his gloved hand was a CS grenade, smoking like there was no tomorrow. I looked over and Bond seemed to be having trouble getting his mask on. Drill Sergeant Simpson noticed this and stopped right in front of Bond, and shoved that grenade right in his face, the CS going right inside his mask.

Not a good thing.

Bond, still having trouble with his mask, but now breathing CS gas, panicked, and ran as fast as he could off the trail and into the area off the road. As he could not see anything, I am impressed that he didn't run into a tree or something. But Drill Sergeant Simpson was still running with the grenade, and finally he threw it into the middle of the company, letting the CS disperse within the area. He then went running after Bond to make sure that he didn't hurt himself.

I moved up out of the area that was getting gassed, and started laughing my ass off. Watching all the poor souls breathing in that CS. I swore to myself that I would not let that happen to me.

After a few minutes, I saw Bond come back over to the campany. I asked him if he was OK, and he said that he was, but I could tell that he was affected by the CS. He was still coughing, but I knew that he would be OK. The Drill Sergeants eventually restored order and the company began moving again, but this time we stayed in our masks. This made the marching harder, as breathing while wearing the masks is definitely more laborious.

After only a few minutes we were starting to slow, and the Drill Sergeants made sure we did not slow down too much by making us march faster. It was definitely starting to suck.

The heat and himidity was rising as the day continued, and finally we were given the All Clear signal, which allowed us to take our masks off. We took a break to take the masks off, and we were also ordered to take off our BattleDress Uniform tops. We would wear our t-shirts and have our rucks on. I and every other guy in the company was soaked with sweat. We drank water, checked our feet, and rested for a precious few minutes. After all too short a time, we were ordered to gear up and get ready to go.

Eventually, after about 23 miles, we stopped at what would be our bivouac site. We stopped and set up our shelter halves with our Battle Buddies, and set up the area. We were given our MRE's and we ate hungrily, most of us filling our canteens up more than once. We did some more training, then finally in the late afternoon we were given our evening meal: Chili Mac. Basically Chili Mac is macaroni noodles with spaghetti sauce and meat. It is not great (would be a hell of a lot better with Tobasco Sauce, but oh well), but it was a hot meal. We also knew what was coming...

After our meal, we were again gathered in a company formation and given a lecture about what was going to be happening on the Trail. It would be a simulated combat exercise, at night, and we would be conducting a patrol along various trails and reacting to the situations that we encountered.

Again, as I was listening to the Sergeant in charge of the Pragon Trail exercise, talking, I noticed that the Drill Sergeants had moved to the corner of the formation, and I knew another gas attack was coming. I put my hand on my mask carrier and slightly opened it, waiting for the grenades to start popping.

As usual, I was right. The sergeant in charge was talking, then all of a sudden threw a grenade right in the middle of the formation.

The thing about Chili Mac that no one says: it comes back up very effectively when one is exposed to CS gas... In other words, you throw it up.

All of it.

You do not stop throwing it up.

I had my mask halfway on before the grenades hit the ground. It was sealed and my hood was pulled over within 4 seconds.

Soon I heard the results of those who were less fast than me. Coughing, retching, and other nasty sounds filled the air. Again I thanked God for taking care of me that day. I looked over at Bond, and I could tell he was smiling like me. Apparently he was not going to let it happen to him twice...

After another few minutes the guys got cleaned up and we began the patrol. It was getting dark, and we were given tips about what to do in various situations (flares at night, immediate action drills, and other infantry type stuff). It took about two hours, and then entire company finally ended up in a trench, lined up shoulder to shoulder.

There was a bench along the bottom of the trench, and we were told to sit down. we sat, and I put my head back and rested as much as I could. After a few minutes a voice came over a loudspeaker and told us what was next. We would go over the trench line when instructed and low crawl the entire area. We could expect to her machine gun fire, and simulated artillery explosions. We would navigate the entire course and react everything that happened. When the voice finished, machine guns opened up, and it seemed that every single round was a trace, because the entire sky light up with tracer fire. It looked like it was going right over my nose, but in reality the towers were about 50 feet high.

After a few more minutes, we were told to go over the wall. Immediately we went over and began crawling through the course. Explosions shook the earth, and mud and water was flying everywhere. I hurried through, and made sure I kept my butt as low as possible. After several minutes, I looked around, and saw guys just getting up and running towards the end of the course. I continued crawling for a few more feet, then said to myself, "Screw this!" and got up and hauled ass towards the finish area.

After finishing we were seated under a huge awning area out of the rain and mist while the rest of the guys finished up. After everyone was done, the Senior Drill Instructor, Drill Sergeant Calhoun, said that he was proud of us, and that it was a privilege to be a drill sergeant to such a great group of recruits. I am sure that he says the same thing to every cycle of soldiers, but it looked like he meant it, and he looked like he truly enjoyed scaring the shit out of us on a daily basis. He was damn good at it.

We marched back to our bivouac area and got into our tents (2-man). I got out of my wet clothes and got into my sleeping bag, and got my clean clothes out for the next day. I went to sleep rather fast, even though it was raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock outside.

We awoke the next morning, and packed up and began marching back to the company area. I seem to remember that not long after we started marching, we were picked up by busses for the remainder of the trip.

It was over. The formalities aside, we had been tested in the eyes of our mentors, and passed.

We had become United States Soldiers.

I was so happy I slept on the ride back.

"Wake Up, This Is An Alert!!!"

2006-09-17T07:26:00.000-07:00

During the Cold War, the mission of the Second Armored Cavalry Regiment was to patrol 671 kilometers of the border between West Germany and East Germany and Czechoslovakia (the 11th ACR patrolled north of us, only their sector covered only East Germany, along the Fulda Gap). There was always a presence of at least a Cavalry troop at one of the Border Camps situated along the border, in case something bad happened.

As such, the Regiment had a very high operational tempo, and we were always doing training or patrol missions, 7 days a week. Additionally, we also had exercises to keep us ready. These exercises, called "Alerts", tested us to make sure that we were ready to deploy and defend against Communism *spit* at all times.

If the war ever happened, my unit was supposed to be completely out of our base within 90 minutes, every last person and piece of equipment. That is not a long time. As such, all of our equipment was always loaded as if we were going to war.

This story is about such an exercise.

I am asleep in my bed, and all is well.

All of a sudden, I hear a banging on my door, and someone is screaming at the top of his lungs, "ALERT! ALERT! EVERYBODY GET UP! THIS IS AN ALERT!"

I looked at my watch. It was precisely 0302 hours.

My roommate, Johnny D, immediately got up and turned on the lights and put his uniform on.

Perplexed, I asked him what was going on. He explained to me that this was a go to war exercise, and we had to get our gear together and go to our platoon area.

I said to Johnny D, "Ummm, Johnny, I got here YESTERDAY!!! I have no gear!!!"

"Relax, we'll just get you to see Top (the First Sergeant), and see what happens. If you're lucky, we won't be going out to the field."

"Great," says I.

So I get my uniform on and go with Johnny D to the platoon area. I meet my Platoon Sergeant, Staff Sergeant Sargent (I am not making this up). He looks and me and Lance, who is more confused than I am at his point, and he takes us to go see the First Sergeant, who is outside somewhere making sure that all our vehicles are lined up and ready to leave the base, if so ordered.

I look around the airfield. It is a mass of controlled chaos, if that is a proper phrase. All the troops were moving and lining their trucks up, helicopters are running and warming up and soldiers are moving everything around in a rushed but organized manner. Everyone I see is armed with their weapons and in full "Battle Rattle".

And I am standing around with my thumb up my ass, with nothing to do.

After meeting the First Sergeant, he tells us to hang around with him for a few minutes until he can figure out what to do with both Lance and me. All of a sudden, I look over and see the Squadron Sergeant Major walking up.

Now, I had been in the Army for almost 2 years, and all of it up to this point was in a training environment. So when one saw the Sergeant Major, it was like talking to God (I was always more afraid of the Sergeant Major - or any senior enlisted soldier- more than the Officers). He walks up to my Fisrt Sergeant, looks at me, and says, "Where is your helmet and gear, Specialist (I was a Specialist E-4 at the time) Clark?"

I almost felt my bladder empty. My throat tighted, and I immediately wanted my mommy.

Before I could answer, the First Sergeant said, "He got here yesterday, Sergeant Major. We'll get him inprocessed and his gear this week. In the meantime I am just keeping him out of the way."

The Sergeant Major was not very happy with that answer (they tend to like to see soldiers moving around and working, instead of standing around doing nothing), but he accepted it and moved on, anxious to find other soldiers lollygagging.

Eventually, the exercise ended, and all the vehicles and equipment was put back in is place, ready to go to war another day...

Such was my introduction to the 4th Squadron (Redcatchers) of the Second Armored Cavalry Regiment.

And I loved almost every minute there.

Wilkommen Bei Deutschland!

2006-09-16T20:48:00.000-07:00

July, 1988

I had been married for 8 days, and already I was leaving my wife.

I had just finished both my advanced individual training at Goodfellow AFB, in San Angelo, Texas, and also finished another course at the Army's Intelligence Center and School at Fort Huachuca, in southeast Arizona. I was given 14 days' leave (vacation to you civilians), and drove home in my Volkswagen Fox, with no air conditioning, from Arizona to California.

In July.

Bad move.

I went to Sacramento, go married, and then after a brief honeymoon in LA for about4 days, I went to the LA International Airport and got on my flight to Germany. I would be assigned to the 4th Squadron (Air Cavalry) of the 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment (Toujours Pret!!) (ACR) .My filght would take me to New York, then to Frankfurt, then my final stop to Nuremburg. As I was rather upset that I was leaving my new bride, I was not in a great mood.

When my flight was called, I tearfully (on her part) left my wife, and boarded the plane. Lance, my roommate at Language School and good friend (we had taken our oath together in Oakland 2 years before, and were really good friends - we were even going to be in the same unit together) got on the plane and flew to New York without any problems.

But in New York it starts to get interesting.

Before landing, the flight attendant told us which gates to go to for connecting flights. My roomie and I were told to go to a certain gate for our connecting flight to Frankfurt. We go, wait a couple of hours for the flight, and board. Once seated, I begin to get comfortable when someone says to me, "Excuse me, I think you are in my seat."

"Umm, I do not think so, sir," I reply, and grab my boarding pass.

At this point a flight attendant asks if there is a problem. It turns out that Lance and I were given the wrong flight information, and we had boarded the wrong plane.

Embarrassed and now a little miffed that we had missed our flight, this meant that I could very well be AWOL (Absent WithOut Leave), a punishable offense. This did not improve my mood. So, we got off the plane, and got back on the Jetway to go back into the terminal.

On the Jetway, an employee of the airline (I think it was American, but it is a moot point) rudely asked me what I was doing on the wrong flight. I said to him, "Look, sir, do not yell at me; I was given the wrong information; what are YOU going to do about it?" He calmed down a little and said that I was right, and that we should go to another gate and see what they could do for us. I thanked him, and walked off to the other gate.

At the gate, Lance and I waited in line until it was our turn. When the lady at the gate asked me for my passport, I gave her my Military ID card, as I was traveling on orders (I did not have a passport yet, anyway). She looked at me and said, "In the Military, Sir?" "Umm, yes, Ma'am; Army," I said.

She nodded, and began to work on our flight assignment. As she was working, she said to her co-worker, "We try to take care of our Mililtary customers." I looked at Lance and shrugged my shoulders.

About a minute later, she handed us our tickets and our ID cards back and said, "OK, sir, just go through that door there. It will take you to Business Class; your seats are on the upper deck of the plane (it was a 747). Enjoy your flight."

Shocked, we took our tickets and went through the gate, boarded the plane, and went upstairs. We were greeted by the flight attendants and treated very well. Once seated, the attendant asked us if we would like some champagne. As it had been a very long day, and I was in a pretty foul mood, I accepted.

Many drinks later, the Captain of the plane said that there would be along delay, and that he was sorry. As I was already half in the bag, I could have cared less. The airline had taken care of all of our flights to get us to Nuremburg without us being late, so all was well. Lance was sloshed; he could not have cared less.

After landing in Frankfurt, we hauled ass to our flight to Nuremburg, and got on with a few minuted to spare. I remember sitting next to a British gentleman who was listening to the Beach Boys. I laughed to myself, and he asked me what was funny. I told him that I also loved the Beach Boys, and mentioned that I was from California and that it was ironic that I was sitting next to a European man listening to California Surf music. He too thought that was funny, and we talked for a little longer before I let him go back to his music and I enjoyed looking out the window and getting my first glimpses of Europe.

Landing in Nuremburg, we looked around for anything like a millitary liaison. It was Sunday, early afternoon, and I could not see anything. Lance and I eventually found a sign that was of no help whatsoever. I eventually found a soldier, and showed him my a copy of my orders, and asked him if he knew where the 4/2 ACR was. He did not know anything about the 4th Squadron, but he knew that HQ of the 2nd ACR was at Merrill Barracks. He did not know how I could get there, and that he was sorry.

But, as I am a pretty smart guy, I had a plan.

Before leaving for Germany, I had exchanged some of my money for some German Deutschmarks, "just in case." So, I hailed a cab, and had him take us to Merrill Barracks.

About a half an hour later, he drops Lance and me off at the main gate at Merrill Barracks. I get out of the cab, pay him (and ask for the receipt so I could claim it on my Travel Voucher), and walk up to the gate. I show the gate guard my order as well as my ID card (Lance is with me, doing the same thing), and ask him about 4th Squadron. He says to us, "Sorry, dude, 4th Squadon is out at Feucht (pronounced foickht). You will need to take a cab out there."

I say to him, "Wrong, DUDE, but you are going to get me either the Sergeant of the Guard or the Officer of the Day, right now. We are tired, hungrry, and not in the mood."

Taken aback, he says, "OK, wait right here."

"No problem, take your time, but get them. Preferably the officer of the day."

He goes into the guard shack, and makes a phone call. In the meantime, the other guard comes out and starts talking to us. I am looking around the area, enjoying the scenery, and we begin to talk about small talk. How the unit is (2 ACR does a lot of field time, and tells us about the border camps and life in the Regiment in general).

After a few minutes, a van comes up, and an officer and a sergeant get out. As we are not in uniform, Lance and I do not salute, but we do recognize him as a officer and call him Sir. We show him our orders, and he tells us that he will take us to 4th Squadron. "Welcome to the 2nd Armored Cav, guys."

"Thank you, Sir," I say.

We get in the van, and we drive for what seemed like 20 minutes, from the heart of beautiful Nremburg out to the airfield. It is located in the suburb of Feucht, which is German for "damp".

We go through the gate, and he drops us off at the door for the Charge of Quarters. We go in, show him our orders, and he takes us up to the Officer of the Day for 4th Squadron. There, we sign in and he gets us our room keys and makes sure we have sheets, pillows, and blankets for our bunks. The Officer of the Day then asks us if we have eaten. As soon as he said that, I suddenly became starving. We had not eaten since the fight from New York, several hours earlier. It was now late afternoon of the second day. We said no, and he told us that the chow hall was closed, but if we wanted, he could have the CQ take us somewhere. We accepted, and got in the van, where we had our first taste of Eurpoean cusine.

We went to McDonald's.

I ordered my usual, 3 Cheeseburgers, a 6 piece McNugget, large Fries (Pommes Frites), and a large Coke. As we ate, we talked to the Sergeant about the Squadron. He said that it was a good unit, and that if we were on flight status we would definitely get our fair share of flight time (he was grossly underestimating that one).

After eating, we went back to the unit and went to our rooms. I unpacked some of my gear and got my uniform ready for the next workday.

After shining my boots, I passed out on my bunk... but not before calling my new wife and telling her all about my flight.

Never Forget

2006-09-11T07:17:00.000-07:00

It is five years since it happened.

I am still pissed off.

You should be also.

Never Forget.

Ever.

"It's an Apple, Drill Sergeant?"

2006-08-09T17:17:00.000-07:00

One Friday evening during Basic Training at lovely Fort Dix, New Jersey, a buddy and I were walking from the chow hall over to the Shopette, a kind of 7-11 on military bases. As we were walking, I was eating an apple to finish the fine Army meal we had just had, which I thought was innocent enough.

Boy, was I wrong.

As we were walking, we walked in front of one of our sister companies. The company was conducting Physical Training (PT). All of a sudden I hear a very loud, "HEY YOU!!!"

We continue walking, feeling sorry for the poor soldier about to get his ass chewed. We then hear the Drill Sergeant scream, "YOU! WITH THE FOOD!!! STOP!" Apparently, my actions caught the eye of one of the Drill Sergeants of the company.

We both stop. The drill sergeant calls us over, and we run over to him and come to the position of Attention. He looks at us and says to me, pointing at my apple. "What is that?"

Perplexed and scared to death, I look at my apple, then him, then the apple. Then him. I say, "Ummm, it's an apple, Drill Sergeant."

"And are you allowed to eat food outside the Chow Hall, Private?"

Now here we come to an interesting dilemma. This particular subject had not been brought up with our company, that I knew of. However, I am not stupid, so I was not going to challenge this mean looking sonofabitch by being a smart ass. "No, Drill Sergeant? I chimed."

"So what are you doing eating an apple, outside of the chow hall, WHEN YOU KNOW YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO??!"

I definitely knew how to answer this question. "No Excuse, Drill Sergeant!"

"I want you to throw that apple away, now, Private," Drill Sergeant LoudVoice screamed.

I look around desperately for any type of garbage receptacle, and see a couple of dumpsters, over 400 yards away... and they were the closest ones.

I take off and begin running as fast as I can, almost tripping over myself, to get rid of this offensive piece of fruit. I throw it in the dumpster and haul my butt back to the Drill Sergeant.

"What is your name, Private?"

"Private Clark, Drill Sergeant!"

"What company are you in, Private Clark?"

"Bravo, 3-5, Drill Sergeant!"

"And who is your Drill Sergeant?"

"Drill Sergeant Simpson, Drill Sergeant!"

"Okay, Private Clark, I am going to talk to Drill Sergeant Simpson about this, you can be sure. Dismissed."

We performed our about face, then walked away from the Drill Sergeant, and at that point, I Knew. This. Was. It. The opportunity he had been waiting for. Drill Sergeant Simpson now had his One Soldier That He Was Going To Kill. I knew I was a Dead Man Walking.

Slowly we went to the Shopette, grabbed what we needed, and went back to the Company Area.
And I forgot all about it all weekend.

When we awoke at 0330 Monday Morning, we went out to our morning formation, and performed our morning Smoke (dropped for push ups for the hell of it) Session, and then lined up outside the chow hall for Breakfast.

When out of the darkness I hear the Voice of Doom: "Where's that Private Clark?"

Oh. My. God. "Here, Drill Sergeant!" I get out of line and run over to him away from the line of soldiers.

As I have mentioned before, Drill Sergeant Simpson was not the tallest guy to ever walk the planet. But what he lacked in height he more than made up for in size. He was only about 5'5", but I swear he weight about 220. When he wore his BDU sleeves up, I still to this day do not know how he got his arms into his sleeves. It dod not matter what time of day it was; he was always wearing his tortoise-shell Wayfarer sunglasses. And he was as dark as Midnight. So when I came up to him that dark morning,I could barely see him. I stood in front of him at Attention and said, "Drill Sergeant, Private Clark reporting to the Drill Sergeant as Directed."

He just stood there, staring at me through his sunglasses for what seemed 2 minutes. Finally, he says to me in his low voice, like he is talking to the Accused, about to be Executed, "Do you have anything to tell me, Clark?"

I had still completely forgotten about The Apple Incident. I stared at him dumbly."No, Drill Sergeant."

"Something about an apple?"

Oh. Shit. I was completely dumbstruck, and I felt the blood drain from my face. I felt faint, and I wanted to throw up. I started to say something, but he just said to me, "Don't ever do it again, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" I said, and he told me to get the hell out of his face. I went back in line, relieved and satisfied that I might just make it alive out of here after all. And thankful that he did not hurt me.

But it was not even half over...

Want to see something Kick Ass??

2006-08-09T11:47:00.000-07:00

Finally, Dark Side of the Moon superimposed with the Wizard of Oz

Go check out the video at .45 Caliber Justice... I have wanted to see this since forever....

You will NOT regret it...

It's About Time!!!

2006-08-08T07:42:00.000-07:00

for Army World. I hope the Army goes through with this.

I just wish that they had come to me for ideas...

Taking a turn burning shit from a latrine would draw lines for miles...

Or getting dropped for pushups for eating an apple outside the chow hall (that is a forthcoming story)...

My day in Roswell

2006-08-06T16:11:00.000-07:00

As I was assigned to a unit in Texas, I had an opportunity to do a lot of flying in the Southwestern United States. As I had more experience than most of the other enlisted guys (I flew over 600 hours in Germany; stateside units had limited flight hours due to budget reatraints), I was made a trainer for the equipment we used. With that, I got to fly quite a bit for training the other guys

One of the days we were flying in southwest New Mexico, and things were going well. I was just showing one of the newbies the equipment, and we were about 45 minutes into the flight, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flashing light. As I had plenty of hours in helicopters, I knew that any kind of flashing light was what we in Army Aviation called A Bad Thing. I knew that the Master Caution Light was blinking,and that a light that I had never seen lit before was lit. I was able to read it, from my vantage point.

It said: Low Rotor RPM.

I immediately hit the Crew Call button so I could listen in on the pilots' conversation. As usual, their voices were calm, and they were immediately going through the emergency procedures for engine failure by rote memory, and the co-pilot was backing him up by using the pilot manual.

After a few seconds, the pilot said, "Wait a sec. What do you hear?"

The co-pilot replied,"Nothing."

"Right," said the pilot. No change in engine or rotor pitch. So that means what?" (the pilot was also an instructor pilot, and he was used to acting in this manner).

He continued, "Bad RPM sensor. So, with a bad sensor, the manual says to Land as Soon as Practical. We are too far to RTB (Return to Base), so let's head up to Roswell and have a new sensor flown up to us."

Roswell, New Mexico. Home to Alientown USA... and they market it pretty well.

We landed at the airfield, and shut down. It just so happened that during this time of year that Operation Roving Sands was happening, and this year there happened to be more involved units than in previous exercises. Also this year the Air Force brought in some B-1 Bombers and some tankers to support them.

Being the son of a retired USAF Master Sergeant, I know a few things about how the Air Force guards its beloved bombers. At one point early in my daddy's career he was actually an Air Policeman, and guarded bombers and so he told me what the deal was at a very early age how things worked on an Air Force base.

Basically, if you are anywhere near US Air Force bombers without authorization, you can be shot. If you drive by USAF bases and can see the runway, there is always a barbed wire fence. Every certain distance on this fence is a sign that says something to the effect of "Stay the Hell Away!!" Thay say it in more subtle language,but you are supposed to get the hint. To make the point more effective, at the bottom of every sign is a phrase in red lettering, in all capital letters.

It says, "THE USE OF DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED"

Basically that means that they can shoot you. No ifs, ands or buts.

I tell you that because as we were walking into the airport operations building, the airport staff was acting upset.

It seems some reporter took it upon his Pulitzer Prize hopes that he would walk out to the area where the B-1 bombers and take pictures.Well, when the Air Force Policemen (they call them "Security Policemen" now) found out, they drove out there and not so politely took his camera away and threw him to the ground and pointed their weapons at him while they made sure that he was not a threat. Once they figured out he was a dumbass and not a terrorist, they put him in a Military Police car, and drive him back to the operations building. Before they let him go his film was confiscated.

And the airport staff told us this they were indignant that something like that could happen. Me, being the non-Politically Correct individual that I am, told her simply, "He's extremely lucky they didn't shoot his ass." They looked at me like deer caught in headlights.

I proceeded to tell them why, and when they understood, then they accepted that maybe going out there was one of the Dumber Things That Happened At Roswell That Day.

I digress.

Once inside Operations, we called our home base and had the new sensor sent out, then asked for a courtesy car so we could go into town and grab some lunch.

The car? A 1975 Ford LTD...wagon. We rode in style to the Roswell Pizza Hut in the pimp mobile... laughing the whole way. Driving through town we noticed that there were all kinds of places with "Alien" and "UFO" in them... totally working the angle in any way they can.

After lunch, we went back and waited for what seemed like forever. Eventually, a helicopter with a mechanic and the spare part arrived, and they installed it, then tested it to make sure that it was installed correctly. Finally, after everything was tested and written up according to regs, we flew back to our home base.

I never had a chance to go back there, but I definitley have a goal to go back and visit Roswell, and a lot more of the New Mexico countryside, as my father is from part of that area.

But those are stories for later.

Tomorrow...

2006-08-04T19:23:00.000-07:00

If I had been fortunate enough to stay in the Army, and survived all the deployments and training exercises, I would have 20 years, and eligible for retirement. Of course, that does not mean that I would have retired at 20; I greatly enjoyed my job, and made good friends.

I was a part of history in 2 different places, and I am sure that had I stayed in, I would have been a part of more (had I not been sick I would have gone back for Serbo and Croatian language training, and at least two deployments to Bosnia).

Tomorrow will be a good day, and I will have several beers; one for the Regiment, one for the Commander-in-Chief, and one for the Army. I will then drink a lot more for friends, both here and not; and I miss every single one of them.

Not a day goes by that I do not think about and miss my time in the Army; I truly loved being a soldier, both in good times and bad.

Right Thinking Breaks it Down, Shotgun Style

2006-08-04T13:49:00.000-07:00

in this article. He demonstrates what has to be done in order for us to defeat Islam.

I like this guy's style... He is funny, but he knows his stuff.

If I Were President

2006-08-04T09:10:00.000-07:00

I would have offered Israel all of our old FB-111 Bombers... I have a feeling that they would upgrade the hovno out of them and make them better than when we used them. Israel still uses the F-4, and it suits them very well.

Just an opinion....

For the Record...

2006-08-04T08:50:00.000-07:00

My idea fora UN Peacekeeping force would be the 31st Marine Expeditionar Unit (Special Operations Capable), including its air and naval assets, and a battalion of the British Parachute Regiment, with some Australian assets thrown in for good measure...

If there needs to be a force to keep the peace, then give it some bite. I have yet to see a peacekeeping force that could fight its way out of a paper sack... If Hezbollah wants topark its missiles near them, they would not last long...

Peace definitely would be restored... Indonesian and subpar troops that are inexperienced in the art of war and afraid to fight are not the answer. The United States already has troops in the Sinai Peninsula as part of the Multi-National Force & Observers, there since its inception (the National Guard rotates battalions out of there). This would not be a problem, once we withdraw most of our troops from Iraq.

I am not saying this is the answer, but like I mentioned, if you want a peacekeeping force, use troops that are well-trained, and give them rules of engagement that authorizes swift and harsh punishment for any breach of peace.

Like they say, "No better friend, no worse enemy than a United States Marine."

I am now off my soapbox... go here to read how ineffectively UNIFIL did its job.

New Addition to Security around here

2006-08-04T06:31:00.000-07:00

It was decided by the HouseHold 6 element (aka, the wife) that the perimeter of the Headquarters and Barracks needed an Auxiliary alarm system in addition to the Auxiliary Alarm System.

So, we went and found a unit that would serve the needs of the command.

Everyone, meet Brutus.

The house is so much more secure now...

"We're Americans!!!"

2006-08-03T14:52:00.000-07:00

When Kuwait was invaded by theIraqi Army in August, 1990, my platoon was involved in an exercise in the area of the British Army of the Rhine. Our helicopters flew up to the German Army airfield at Celle, and the suppport trucks drove up.

Landing at the airfield, we immediately got out and tied down the helicopter, as per procedure. We noticed that we were on a different airfield, as when we put on our headgear (military for hats), we were asked to remove them on the flight line (not to mention that German helicopters were all over, and everyone spoke German). We were pretty much asked to do this everyday; they eventually started to almost get mad. But they understood... Pavlovian reflexes and all...

As we had a lot of free time when not performing missions, those of us with them brought our bicycles. We did a lot of riding in the city, and had a blast doing it. One day, we decided that we wanted to visit the NAAFI, the British miitary's version of our Post Exchange- the Miiltary Mall.

So, one morning, about 10 of us rode out in search of the British barracks and hopefully find the NAAFI. We rodeall day, just enjoying the sites of this beautiful city. It was a gorgeous early summer day in Northern Germany, and we had a great time.

Eventually we found a British barracks, and we were allowed in after showing our American ID cards. we rode around and checked the area out for a while, then left. On our way out, we asked the guars where we could find the NAAFI, and they gave us directions.

So, after more riding, we came across a high wall that we knew on the other side was a miiltary compound of some sort. so, as it was by now mid afternoon, we sped up to go inside and do some shopping. Now remember, there are 10 white guys, most of us wearing backpacks, and riding bicycles... In the 80s there were multiple incidents of terrorism in Europe... like maybe guys riding bomb-laden backpacks on bikes into a military base was a definite possibility.

We turn into the main gate of this post, and we see 2 British Military Policemen (MPs), one at each side of the gate. the way the entrance to the barracks was, there was a small brick building about 5 meters inside the gate. instead of a window, a firing port faced the entrance. This is what we in the military call a Machine Gun Position.

All of us immediately slammed on n the brakes of our bikes and stopped. The MPs, while alert, did not show the slightest alarm. We announced that we are American, and reached for our ID cards. Once our identities were established, we asked them if they could tell us where the NAAFI is. As these jolly Limeys were talking to us, I cold hear the distinctive CLICK that the safety of a weapon makes when it is either engaged or released. So I then knew that these guys, while seemingly relaxed, were definitely ready for anything. Oh, and the barrel of the nice machine gun in the position was very much levelled at us...

So, with the directions in hand, we politely and very slowly turned around rode away, and in the direction of the NAAFI.

I do not know about the others, but I was pretty rattled the rest of the day. The others says they never heard the safeties being clicked; but as I used my ears for a living; I know my hearing was better than theirs by far. Oh, and I was a lot closer than them to one of the MPs.

Anyway, we eventually find the NAAFI and look around. It was a lostsmaller than we were used to compared to our Post Exchanges (think big 7-11 compared to a Wal-Mart - but the PX is wayyyy better - and tax-free), but we looked around and got some small trinkets, i believe.

Finally, through shopping, we ride the several milesback through the countryside and city to get back to the airfield.

Interesting side note: As the invasion of Kuwait had just started, and the first American troops just deployed there (82d, 101st Airborne Divisions, and the (I think) 1st MARDIV), of course we talked amongst ourselves what might happen if Operation Desert Shield were to get larger in scope. We eventually agreed that our unit (the 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment, and the entire VII US Corps) probably would not be deployed; as VII Corps was still involved in some actual missions compared to V Corps, in a different part of Germany that covered the former East Germany. As it turned out, the opposite occurred; VII deployed to Saudi Arabia and V Corps was not...

However, the exercise at Celle was one of most fun exercises I was in during my time in the Army.

Great editorial over at American Spectator

2006-08-02T17:48:00.000-07:00

I read an interesting editorial this morning at American Spectator...

A key paragraph:

"This is not Clausewitz's brand of warfare. It bears no resemblance to traditional warfare among civilized nations, which was waged with honor and dignity. Rather we have non-state terrorist groups hiding behind the skirts of women and the bibs of babies. As we've seen in Iraq, Bosnia, Afghanistan and now Lebanon, civilians, particularly dead civilians, are more important to winning than rockets and guns. And it takes a lot of dead women and infants to win a war."

Go and read the rest... very insightful.

"Bring it the F*** ON!"

2006-08-01T08:26:00.000-07:00

Alphecca has a good post up from last week (sorry it is late), commenting about how we differ from our neighbors across the pond, the European Union.

I heartily recommend it.

As he is from Vermont, home of the best gun laws in the country, I would proudly stand and fight next to him!!

He has good stuff always, and I hope you go there often as well. If you don't, you damn sure should.

My Son's Fear Factor Moment

2006-07-31T18:37:00.000-07:00

My son,The M-60 Gunner in my fireteam, all 8 years old of him, will not eat veggies. Or fruit. at all...

So, when we are at the Olive Garden, celebrating my lovely daughter, the Radio Operator, and I order the Sampler Platter as appetizers for the family, I know that there is no way that I can get my son to eat any of the fried zucchini that is served with this part of our fantastic dinner.

The platter comes, and during the course of the rest of us eating this semi-gourmet plate of Italian delicasies, I take one of the zucchini pieces, cut it into fourths, and put a small sliver on a side plate.

"Bailey," says I, "if you eat this piece of fried zucchini, I will buy you an X-Box."

Now mind you, dear readers (as I know there are only a few out there, and my wife and brother are the majority of my fan base), I had not discussed this wager or challenge or whateverthehell you want to call it with The Boss; I merely knew that there was NO way that he was going to eat a piece of the squash family (green, at that); I had a smug expression on my face as I made this challenge to him. No a chance in hell.

Bailey, the non-vegetable/fruit eater, just acted as if Joe Rogan and the entire Fear Factor crew had just walked into the Olive Garden. Before HouseHold 6 (the Wife), who at this point stopped eating and stared at me with a "What the HELL are you doing!" look on her face, could say anything, he grabbed that piece of zucchini and threw it into his mouth, swallowed it and the opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, just like on Fear Factor. He then asked, "Can we go and get it tonight?"

My bluff had thus been called, and I was screwed. Here we were, celebrating my daughter's birthday, and I wasgetting ready to spend a crapload of money on my son.

At this point, my daughter was rather perplexed. She said, "Can I get a game?" My boy is repeating his "can we get it tonight" question, and my wife is looking at me like I am the biggest moron ever to inhabit the planet.

"OK, OK, calm down," I say. I tell my son that he is not going to get off that easy, and we order him his own side of zucchini. My wife is still looking at me incredulously, and I am still stumped that he ate the G-ddamn zucchini. He had never fallen for that before, but then again, I never offered him an X-Box before. Oops.

So he eats most of the zucchini, as well as his meal, and I tell him that yes, we will get the game and each can get a game to play.

So, after dinner, we go and get it. X-Box, three games (I needed one too, come on...), and a godawful amountof money later, I learned never to bluff with my 8 (now 10) year-old.

What I Did When the Wall Came Down

2006-07-28T15:52:00.000-07:00

November, 1989

It was a typical fall day in Bavaria, cloudy and windy. I was flying in an OH-58 Scout Helicopter, and there was also an AH-W Cobra attack helicopter with us. Our mission this day was to fly the Southern sector of the West German border. It was supposed to be a normal day, but this day would be the start of a historical weekend.

We start the patrolling; flying right along the border, 100 meters off for the entire "trace". The job of the patrol is to make sure that there are no troop movements or anything untoward. I had been on a lot of these missions, and enjoyed them immensely. The only problem was that the OH-58 helicopter is a small bird, and in strong winds it can be buffeted around quite a bit. This was one of those days.

The day started out well, and the sector trace was going well. We stopped for lunch and fuel at a small city called Vilshofen, and where we sat on the terrace at the airport cafe, we would watch the Danube River. It was beautiful.

Taking off again, we noticed that clouds were coming from the west. we climbed above them and continued on, not thinking anything of it. A while later, we were still above the clouds, and we were beginning to run low on fuel, and needed to begin heading back.

The problem was that we were till above the clouds, and we could noit find a hold to go through. Once cannot just drop through the clouds; in mountainous terrain, if you go through the cloud bank and hit a mountain, your trip is abruply ended.

So we are flying in a certain part of the Border area, hoping to find a hole to drop through. i am getting nervous, as the pilots (who I had flown with dozens of times before) were starting to get nervous as well. I keep loooking at the Fuel lights, and they are consistently dropping. They are still in the "Green" (green lights), but once they turn yellow I knew we might be in trouble, as that means that there is 30 minutes of fuel remaining on board. Army regulations required that when the 30 minute lights came on, the aircraft was required to land as soon as practical.

With concern but not panic, the pilots are talking amongst themsleves and the other bird. They agree that it is becoming an issue. There is simply no holes to drop through anywhere near. At this point we did not have enough fuel to return to our home airfield. The only option at this point was to land at one of the Border camps, of which there were several all along the East/West German and Czech borders. So it was agreed; we would land at one of the camps and request fuel for the following morning.

So, we fly along and hope to land at Camp Gates, and thankfully they find a hole in the clouds. We fly through the holes and unbelievably, we areonly a few minutes from the border camp. We radio in to the camp and tell them that we are going to need beds for 5 men and fuel for the aircraft in the morning. We also have them call the Regimental HQ and tell them what has happened, so our wives can be told that nothing is wrong.

We go into the camp, and we are fed dinner, and we are watching TV. We knew that there had been demonstrations and calls for the end of Communism. Well, that night it officially ended, and the East Germans were on the wall, tearing it down and celebrating.

As we were still on a mission, we were bound by regulations regarding drinking. However, as this historic moment, the Fall of Communism in Germany, the entire Border Camp partied; to the tune of two beers a piece.

After our beers we were given bunks to sleep in, and I went to sleep rapidly.

The next morning, we all woke up early. We were fed breakfast (the border camps prided themselves on the food; it was pretty damn good (I love Army food anyway, but this was good stuff, and lots of it), then taken to our aircraft. The fuel trucks had driven from our airfield, and given the birds the badly needed fuel.

Finally refueled, we boarded up, and started our flight back to our airfield. But, as the border was finally opened, we went out later to monitor and see all the activity along the border. It was amazing; hundreds and hundreds ofcars just crossing and parking, in fields, so they can visit and experience their first taste of freedom in over 3 decades.

I am extremely proud of my service on the border, and even prouder that I was there when it came down.

Another Krauthammer Masterpiece

2006-07-28T06:43:00.000-07:00

Charles Krauthammer has written another fantactic article, this time about Israel's response to Hibollah's attacks on them.

The closing graph: "Israel knows that these leaflets and warnings give the Hezbollah fighters time to escape and regroup. The advance notification as to where the next attack is coming has allowed Hezbollah to set up elaborate ambushes. The result? Unexpectedly high Israeli infantry casualties. Moral scrupulousness paid in blood. Israeli soldiers die so that Lebanese civilians will not, and who does the international community condemn for disregarding civilian life?"

Read the rest; well worth the three minutes it will take.

Awesome argument in Support of Israel

2006-07-26T10:01:00.000-07:00

Hugh Hewitt (who, if you are not reading and listening to, you should be ashamed of yourself) has the best article yet on why the US and her allies should continue to support Israel.

Go read it.

My Job Is To Kill One Of You!!!

2006-07-24T18:42:00.000-07:00

August, 1986.

The humidity was stifling in the cattle car, the trucks they shove 68 people in designed for 21. We had our duffel bag strapped on our backs and our civilian bag in our right hands. In our left hands we had our newly issued ID cards. Stangely, no one said anything; each of us left to our own thoughts and fears. Me, I was terrified.

We had spent the last week or so at the Reception Station, United States Army Training Center, Fort Dix, New Jersey. There we received our uniforms, our haircuts and learned very rudimentary training in Drill and Ceremony (left face, right face, etc); we would learn this and more, as nauseum, over the course of the next 9 weeks.

Finally, after what seemed forever, the cattle cars stopped. the doors opened, and a voice booms from outside the truck, "You have exactly 10 seconds to get off the truck, and 7 of them are gone!!! MOVEMOVEMOVE!!! Throw your bags on the ground and get in the Front Leaning Rest Position!!"

So, we start shuffling out of the car and throwing our bags into a huge pile. I finally get out of the car, and do the same. As everyone else had just gone into the Front Leaning Rest right by the truck, I had to run a little bit to find a place to drop.

The Front Leaning Rest Position is the position a soldier takes when beginning to perform Push-Ups. Place your hands where they are comfortable for you. Your feet may be together or up to 12 inches apart. When viewed from the side, your body should form a generally straight line from your shoulders to your ankles.

We stayed in this position for a couple of minutes, until everybody was off the bus and ready to begin our smoke session. Finally, we hear a voice say, "ONE!" We lower our bodies to where our upper arms are parallel with the ground, and hold it. Almost immediately we hear, "TWO!" and we bring our bodies up to the starting position. On "Three!" we went down again, but immediately came up on our own, yelling a thunderous, "One!" That is known as the 4-Count Push-Up. It takes about 2.5 seconds to complete 1 full exercise, because it is an immediate 1-2-3-1 movement.

We started performing these as the Drill Sergeants walked around this gaggle of new soldiers, telling most of us to straighten our bodies.

1-2-3-14, 1-2-3-15. Then a break, and we would stop, with our arms beginning to jiggle, muslces spasming. Then, the Drill Sergeant would bellow, in his deep, menacing voice, "Exercise! One! Two! Three"

"15," we are screaming, as though our voices will somehow mask our tired arms and bodies.

I am beginning to think to myself, "Dude, what the hell have you done?"

I look around, and we are all looking like fish out of water. Most of us have our asses in the air, so that our bodies look like an inverted "V". Sweat is pouring off my body, and we are all just trying to do one of the two push-ups as the drill sergeant calls out like a metronome, "1-2-3"

"Forty", we all yell.

Finally, we hear the Drill Sergeant say, "Position of Attention, MOVE!"

With that, we bring our feet up, and we then move our bodies up and stand at attention. At this point we see our Drill Sergeant. He is about 5 feet, 7 inches of Pure American Whoop Ass. His uniform is impeccably starched. His Jump Boots gleam. His muscles bulged out from the sleeves of his uniform jacket. We cannot see his eyes, as they are masked by the Ray Ban Wayfarers on his face.I look at him and think that this man is going to kill me.

He gets us into a marching formation and marches us over to the company area. We are put in with the rest of the company and after put at the position of At Ease (feet 18 inches apart, hands behind at the small of the back - right over the left - and the body can slack and relax).

At the head of the company stands a taller guy, with a mustache. He is also wearing the "Brown Round" campaign hat that identifies all Drill Sergeants in the United States Army. He talks in a mild mannered voice, as if he is calming the sheep before the slaughter.

"Welcome to Bravo Company, 3rd Battalion, 5th Training Brigade. My name is Senior Drill Sergeant Calhoun. On behalf of the rest of the training staff, and our company commander, Captain Cross, welcome to the United States Army. Today starts the first day of your Basic Combat Training, where we will make you into United States soldiers.

"But first, we know that it is hot, and you must be tired. so we have some milk and donuts inside the company area, and we would like any one of you that wants to can come inside and have some cold milk and donuts with us."

I was completely confused. Here was this Drill Sergeant,asking me if I wanted some milk and donuts? It sounded so good. I was hot, and could definitely use a donut, but ther was no way on thisplanet Earth that I was going to go and eat with them. I tired to look around, and the Drill Sergeants are smiliing, offering us to come inside, beckoning with their arms, waving for us to come in.

No F***ing Way. I did not fall off the Yam Wagon yesterday. I told myself that it had to be some kind of trick, and I was not going to fall for it.

However, for someone, the temptation was too much. He raised his hand, and they welcomed him into the company area. They slapped him on the back and acted as if he was their long lost brother; smiles, and everything. Poor Bastard.

I swear, as God Almighty as my witness, I never saw him again.

After the ruse was over, Drill Sergeant Calhoun gave control of the company to the platoon sergeants. I had the fortune to have the meanest, baddest Drill Sergeant in the company. His name, Drill Sergeant Simpson. This was the same guy who was giving us the push ups earlier. I could not believe my luck. I wanted to die. He took us inside the company area where we put our duffel bags in our room. He took our civilian bags and put them in a huge closet, and locked it. We would not get them back until graduation (we actually raided the closet a few days before, and when the drill sergeant cadre found out, they smoked us (push up sessions from HELL) for days, but I digress).

After getting our rooms, we went back outside, and went to chow (dinner for you civvies). I cannot remember what it was, but I ate springly. I was not feeling well, because I knew my death was imminent.

After chow the company divided up into the platoons, where the Drill Sergeants introduced themselves. Drill Sergeant Simpson introduced himself. He was an infantryman, with extensive training in Central America and Korea.

After telling us about him and what he had done, he said something that chilled me down to the very core of my being. His last statement was, "My main mission during this training cycle is to kill one of you motherf*****s." The way he said it, I was convinced, beyoind a shadow of a doubt, that I Would Be The One. To Die.

The other DS, Drill Sergeant Eyman, then introduced himself. He too was an infantryman with tours in Europe and Korea. I was amazed at these two men, as they would be the ones who would mold me into a soldier.

But it didn't matter, as Drill Sergeant Simpson was Going To Kill Me.

I prayed hard that night, making sure I confessed all of my sins. I wanted my consicence to be clear. I never knew when Drill Sergeant Simpson would kill me, but I wanted to be ready by making my peace with The Lord..

Invading Mexico

2006-07-23T09:45:00.000-07:00

Early in my military career, I had the opportunity to go to Fort Huachuca, Arizona for some advanced training. If you don't know, Huachuca lies in southeast Arizona, not too far from the border of Mexico.

The training I attended was to qualify me to perform certain missions that were in a Blackhawk helicopter. So, I did a lot of flying.

During one of these missions, the pilots asked us if we wanted to fly into Mexico. As the terrain looked exactly the same everywhere (moutainous desert), I figured it did not matter. The bird we were in used advanced (for the day) navigation aids - which were required for our equipment - so we figured these guys knew where they were. We thought it would be pretty cool, so we in the back - all three of us - said, "Sure!" How many guys got to take this opportunity? What the hell, as they say...

So we continued to train on the equipment in the back, and after several minutes the pilots told us that we were in Mexican airspace. I knew that there was not going to be any kind of interceptor aircraft (My son's Webelos Den and I could take the entire Mexican
Army - even to this day), so we just continued having fun in the back of the bird, playing with the radios.

After about 4 minutes, the pilots decided to turn back. All tolled, we ventured about 7 miles into Mexico. Sometimes I wish I had the power to take care of the immigration problem; it might have begun on that day.

About 4 years later I was stationed at Fort Bliss, in El Paso, Texas, right on the border with Juarez, Mexico. My friends and I used to joke about how easy it would be to go in and take a foothold of Mexico with just about 200 guys...

As I was in an Armored Cavalry unit, we had access to M1 Tanks, attack helicopters, Cavalry Fighting Vehicles; basically everything we would need... We talked a lot about it, and even thought about getting a map of the area and drawing avenues of approach, phase lines, and all the other aspects that make a successful miitary operation.

Only in America does its military trust all of its soldiers with knowing how to read a map. Initiative is a cornerstone of the American fighting soldier. If something is wrong, you are expected to fix it. One of my former Squadron Commanders (I was in the Cav; the Battalion equivalent is called a Squadron) used to say, "Always do the hard right over the easy wrong." That saying has always stuck with me, because it makes sense... But I digress...

So that was my 2 experiences with going into Mexico. Good thing that we were a group of happy soldiers...

EW Platoon, HHT 4/3 ACR - I'll drink one to you guys tonight!

Skinny Dipping!!

2006-07-22T22:35:00.000-07:00

Well, not really (but it got your attention, didn't it!!!)

As I was putting my Auxiliary Home Alarm System in Standby Mode (also know as putting my dog out to do her nightly business), I decided to get my feet wet in my pool. It has been well over 100 degrees for over a week,and my pool temp is a brisk 88 degrees, not a very refreshing temperature, to be sure. But I thought it might be nice to get my feet wet to try to cool off.

I try to put my feet on the top step, only I missed. I was actually near the washout area, which is roughly 18 inches, only I was off balance. Knowing I could either get hurt or get really wet, I chose the latter, and jumped away and fell into the pool.

I was lucky; I didn't get hurt, and I had to change my clothes anyway.

Here is a picture of my guard dog; doing what she does best...

My daughter looked at me and laughed her ass off as she got me a towel. She is grounded for the rest of the month.

Not really, but she did laugh her ass off, the brat.

East Berlin

2006-07-22T19:07:00.000-07:00

We woke up early and decided to take the bus to Checkpoint Charlie and walk over to the East sector. Mistake....

We got on the efficient bus system and after about 15 minutes the bus stopped. And stopped.

And stopped.

Finally, after about 15 minutes we find out what the problem was. Apparently there was some kind of accident and they were landing a helicopter in the middle of the street. Finally we were on our way.

We get to Charlie, and I go in and talk to the American MPs and tell them we wish to go over. They ask for my car license plate number, and we tell then we want to walk.

"You don't want to do that," says the MP.

"Why not?"

"Well, if you walk over, your wife is not protected like you are. If something were to happen you would have to try to make it to the American Embassy. Basically, we really recommend that you drive over there."

So, after the fantastic pep talk by the MPs of the Berlin Brigade, we decided to go back and get the car. So,we jump on the U-Bahn (subway system) and get back to our car. We go back to Charlie, and go back inside. Unfortuantely, we had spent so much time going back and forth that we only had a few hours to really shop.

ASIDE: The previous night, after dinner, we went to an exchange place and decided to exchange some of our US money for some East German Deutschmarks. We had originally asked for $100 but we were told we would never be able to spend that much... so we decided on 50. It still came out to alot of money.

We are reminded that we can purchase limited items of things, as the East Germans rely on the things we American went over to buy. Down comforters for less than $5 and other great deals. Only one comforter per person.

So we leave Charlie and cross into the East. Immediately an EastGerman soldier asks forthe paperwork. As my wife was driving this time, I had to sit at the position of attention and not move my head. The guard walked around the car, then asked for the paperwork. once through their checkpoint, we begin looking for the main shopping areas. Unfortunately, as we took so much time back and forth, we got pretty late to get to the comforter shop. We picked up some fantastic blankets and some other odds and ends, and walked around the central part of East Berlin. As we were getting ready to take a picture of a large radio tower, a woman came into the picture, and began yelling at my wife in agitated German. I told my wife to put the camera down until she passed; these people are paranoid enough, and they do not need to have an American taking their picture. Once she passed, she took the picture.

At one time, the East Berlin Polizei (Police) was the largest police force in the world. I saw an officer almost every 50 meters or so in theshopping area. It was eerie, walking along, in my uniform and having every single police officer look at me with intense suspicion. As I wsa in my uniform, I was considered a diplomat, and was immune to anything. Obviously, we were required to obey all laws and act like a respectable American and diplomat. So, we were polite, and always said "please," and "thank you" whenever we interacted with the locals.

After a while, we realized that it was getting late and we decided to leave. We walked over to the Brandenburg Gate, took some pictures of it, and proceeded to our car. We crossed into the West, and checked back with the MPs at Charlie. I changed out of my uniform (my feet were killing me from walking in my dress shoes - I was in a combat unit and wore that uniform very seldom) and we again went to the steak restaurant for more dead cow.

Now in more comfortable clothes, we again walkedaroundthe Ku Damm and did a lot of window shopping. We were really impressed with the beauty of Berlin; it is a great city. We went to bed relatively early so we could go back to the East the next morning.

When we woke up the next morning, my feet were so swollen from the previous day that we both knew that there was no way I could get them into my shoes, much less walk around for hours in them. We were both very disappointed, as we really wanted to go and find the comforters. So, insted we drove around the west sector and saw a lot of great landmarks.

After that last day of sighseeing, we made our way out of the East Sector, and drove up to asmall town north of Hamburg. One of my cousins was an exchange student there and i asked her if I could have her visit me for a week. The family agreed and I went and picked her up and drove back to Nurnberg.

The trip to Berlin a success, I then went back to working 7 days a week protecting the West from the Commie Horde...

But those missions are not for public knowledge...

Berlin - to the Hotel

2006-07-22T07:40:00.000-07:00

OK, so we have just entered West Berlin and missed the exit to get to Downtown. The West Berlin area is huge, and I did not have a map, so that was priority one. So we began looking for a gas station to buy a map.

We had reservations at a hotel on the famous Kufurstendamm, a major street in then-West Berlin. We needed to find out way to get there. After about an hour of the unintended but awesome sightseeing tour of West Berlin, we found the "Ku-Damm" and our hotel.

By this time, it was getting towards early afternoon and we were both hungry. So after parking and checking into the hotel, we went that bastion of culinary masterpieces; yes, we went to Burger King.

I went to the counter, and in my best German (I took it for two years in high school - Foothill HS, class of noneofyourgawddamnbusiness - and living in Germany made me a better speaker), I ordered a Whopper with cheese - no mayo, large fries and Onion Rings, and a Pespi Light (Euro Diet Pepsi) . She came back in English better than mine to confirm it. I had forgotten that most Germans in West Berlin spoke English (the younger ones, especially). So with our bellies full of that fantastic cuisine, we went to our hotel room to get settled and for a short nap (we were pretty tired from the trip).

We got up a few hours later, and the night life on the Ku-Damm was just starting. We walked all over the shopping district, and found a steak restaurant for dinner. Whe had net seen a steak restaurant in well over a year, and we jumped at it. We knew that it might not be as good as the steaks we had in California (or what I had in Texas - 32 oz. steaks for $10, and you cut cut them with a fork, they were so tender (if you order meat more cooked than Medium you are a commie and I do not like you), but looking at the ambiance of this restaurant we knew it couldn't be that bad.

So, we went in and were not disappointed in the least. Our steaks were really good, and the sides were awesome as well. A great dinner and a good time. After dinner we walked around more and enjoyed the cool evening, even with the rain (this was in October, and the weather was typical fall in Europe: rain and cool temps). We finally turned in at the hotel, where I made sure my uniform was squared away for the trip the next morning (final polish on my shoes, made sure my name tag was secured properly, etc.).

Next, the Fateful Trip into Commie East Berlin

Berlin, the Trip - Part 2 - the Drive

2006-07-21T20:42:00.000-07:00

So, here we are driving in East Germany, and the difference is amazing. Most cars are Trabants or Wartburgs, and my car (a 1989 VW Golf, with American Specs), could outrun them in 3rd gear. So we are putting along, with the traffic, and every 5 miles or so was a huge tower along the highway to monitor whatever; I was never really sure.

After about 1 hour and 45 minutes we began seeing the signs for our exits. We took them and eventually made our way to what I think was called Marienborn. As we were approaching the border traffic was beginning to really pile up. After a few minutes a lane opened up that said, "US FORCES ONLY". So we got in that lane and sped up to the border area. Once at the Soviet Checkpoint we had to stop again. There the whole process started all over again, but was much quicker. We went on our way and went right into the Checkpoint Bravo area. Once at Bravo the American MPs (this checkpoint housed all of the Allied Forces) logged the time you arrived (to make sure you didn't speed) and asked if I noticed any significant military activity. Actually, I had: there was aa Army convoy that was parked on the side of the autobahn heading toward the border. There were 21 large trucks similar to US Army 5-ton trucks with large amounts of East German soldiers and other equipment that I had noticed. I informed the MPs of this fact and they asked me of anything else and I told them no. They thanked me, logged the Intelligence Coup of the Century that I told them about, and let me go on my way.

Once back in the car, we began our drive into West Berlin. Right out of the parking lot was a sign that said "Downtown Berlin", or something like that. Whatever, we knew that was where we wanted to go.

I drove right by it, like a dumbass...

Now we were in West Berlin, with no map, and beginning to get lost. A great start...

For more information about the Allied Checkpoints, go here.... Pretty good and comprehensive information... some good pics and maps too.

Hey A$$HOLE!

2006-07-21T19:47:00.000-07:00

********CAUTION:The following will contain some colorful language, to say the least.*********

You have been warned.

To the driver of the Redfire 2005 Mustang, CA License Plate Number 5LPC822:

On every car I have ever driven, from California to Texas to Europe and even Saudi Arabia, there is a lever on the left hand side of the steering wheel. It is used to indicate to other drivers that you intend to change lanes. To indicate you want to turn left, you pull down on the lever and a set of lights will flash in the front and rear left side. To indicate right, you push slightly up and the same lights on the right side will flash. These are called, coincidentally, "Blinkers". Now, some automobiles will have these lights on theends of their side-view mirrors. Pretty cool.

I am pretty sure that, even in the admittedly beautiful piece of machinery that you own, there is one.

Even in the advanced technological age we live in, there is not a tool out there THAT CAN FUCKING TELL ME TELEPATHICALLY YOU WANT TO CHANGE LANES. YOU HAVE TO MOVE YOUR HAND TO THAT SMALL LEVER AND LET ME KNOW.

While we are at it, cheesedick, if you do desire to change lanes, at least give me some room to adjust instead of come within 2 feet of my truck while moving at 65 Miles per Hour.

So, to recap, assface, these are the steps:

1. Look over the shoulder of the lane in which you want to enter. That means turn your scrawny neck around and make sure you have enough room..

2. Use the lever and push or pull in the direction you want to go.

3. Safely make your lane change.

I have your car and plate memorized. I saw you yell at me through your window, acting indignant as if you did nothing wrong and then get bent out of shape when I flashed my lights at you. If you drive in a safe manner, people wouldn't have to let you know you almost hit them.

Happy trails, asshole.

Berlin - The Trip (part 1)

2006-07-19T20:24:00.000-07:00

When in the Army I was fortunate enough to be stationed in Germany, much to the chagrin of both my brother and dad (my brother got Panama and my dad’s closest assignment to Europe was Greenland; no comment there).

Anyway, my wife and I decided that we wanted to take a weekend vacation to Berlin in October, 1989. At the time, travel to Berlin was permitted, but on your leave form you had to have on the form “Travel to East Berlin Authorized”. If that wasn’t on the form, and you tried to go you would be turned away at Checkpoint Alpha.

That’s right, there was a Checkpoint Alpha, and a Bravo, in addition to the Charlie. It surprised me too, but I never really thought about it. Alpha was the Checkpoint at Helmstedt, which was the crossing point for American troops to drive to Berlin. Bravo was at Dreilinden, in the south part of Berlin (and the entrypoint to West Berlin from East Germany), and Charlie, of course, was the gateway from West to East Berlin.

So, I got the proper info put on my leave form, and we began the drive early in the morning to Helmstedt, which was about three hours away. We arrived at Alpha at about 7:00 or so. When we went in we were met by the MPs which manned the checkpoint. As they were in an isolated post, they did not have access to a daily paper, they asked us if we had any relatively recent copies of Stars & Stripes. I gave them what I had, and they were appreciative. They then told my wife that she had to go into the lobby area while I received a travel briefing. So, she went out and played the slot machines that were there (she won about $5, so it was a plus). Oh, and some of the MPs had language training in Russian, for reasons that will be explained later.

I sat down and the MPs proceeded to tell me what I could expect as soon as I left Checkpoint Alpha. I would go from there to the Soviet (not German, Soviet) Checkpoint on the other side of the border. I would get out of my car and go to the Guard shack. The Soviet (read: Commie) soldier would immediately salute me. Even though I was not in uniform (not required for travel TO Berlin; when I went into East Berlin I had to be in my Dress (Class “A” uniform), I would salute the soldier back. He would hold his hand out, and I would give him my Berlin Travel paperwork. He would go inside the guard shack, make a phone call to the other shack across the street, and come back and give me the paperwork. I would then cross the street and go into the other shack and put the paperwork under the blacked out window and wait until they returned it. It could be immediate or it could take a few minutes. I would then go back to the other Commie, return his salute, give him the paperwork, and he would look over it again, then give it to me. One final salute and I would be allowed to get in my car and begin the drive to East Berlin. A dog and pony show to the max, but if it improved relation between the Two Superpowers, I was not going to screw it up and cause World War 3.

In my car, my wife was not allowed to look around; she was requested to look straight ahead while I was performing the “ceremony.” No cameras were allowed, and had to remain in the trunk the entire drive through to Berlin. If they caught us with a camera visible, I could be in serious trouble. So, no camera. During the drive, I was to take note of any military activity of any kind. I was not to write it down, but remember it any way I could, especially significant troop movement.

They then proceeded to tell me what I could expect during the drive. They then told me exactly how far I would stay on each road, and what exits to take (including photographs of the signs). They also told me how long I could expect to be in the Corridor (they called the route to Berlin the Helmstedt-Berlin Corridor), and what I could expect is something went awry. I was given a notebook with the pictures of the exits as well as some other documentation. Inside the notebook were also two pieces of paper. These papers had sayings in Russian, German, and English. If I were stopped for any reason, I was to hold the first one, which basically said that I was an American and demanded that I be on my way. If, after 20 minutes, I was still detained, I was to show the second one, which said that I demanded to speak to a Soviet Liaison immediately. If I had to use that one, then this defecation has hit the ventilation, and all kinds of stuff would be put into action. They assured me that it wouldn’t happen; but Murphy’s Law… That was the reason some MPs in the Berlin Brigade had the language training, so they could do stuff like that (talk to the Russkies, etc.). I was allowed something like 4 hours inside the corridor before they would count me overdue.

So, the briefing over, I pulled my wife from the slots, and we got in our car. I drove over to the Soviet Checkpoint, and was amazed at all the preventative measure keeping those people in. As I was driving, I was unable to take in all the soldiers, guard towers, guns, lights and barriers that were on this road. It was incredible.

So I pulled up to where I was supposed to, and got out of my car. I was so tempted to be wearing my KGB T-shirt that I got at DLI, but that would have gone over like the proverbial fart in church (the MPs probably would have made me change, anyway). I walked to the Russian soldier, and I swear he looked 12. But, he had a real AK-47, so I did not laugh, (yet, this gets better). He saluted, and I gave him the best salute I ever gave a private in my life. He reached his hand out for the papers and what do I do? Like a total f***ing idiot, I shake it. I Shook A Russian Soldier’s Hand. Me, the Ultimate Commie Hater, Ever. Not only that, I said, “Dobry Den!” which means Good Day, in both Czech and Russian. Immediately after I shook his hand I realized my mistake. I felt like a moron. He was pretty nervous, as I am sure that there were about 40 pictures of us shaking hands from as many angles. He kept his composure well, though. I gave him the paperwork and he went into his shack to call over to his superior. I was to remain at the position of atttention, so I could not move around and look at anything. He came back after a few seconds, and gave me the paperwork to take over to the other building. So I walked over to the other building (on the other side of my car), and walked inside. There was a chair, a big TV (like from the 70’s), a table with lamp, and hanging on the wall, a picture of the Big Commie Himself, Comrade Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev. But the large birthmark on his head had been airbrushed over. I laughed. I put the paperwork under the window as instructed, and waited. And waited.

And waited.

As I was waiting, I heard a phone ring. I heard a voice answer it, and immediately he yelled, “Dobry Den, Comrade Major!” (it sounds like Mayor in Russian). My ears perked up and I desperately tried to use my listening skills to find out what they were saying, but as I was trained in Czech, Russian sounds like a retarded Czech speaking with marbles in his mouth. So I gave up and still waited for my paperwork. During the conversation he gave me back my paperwork and I left to go back to the other side of the street.

ASIDE: My wife told me that as I was in that building, the Soviet Commie walked around my car, several times, looking at it. As my wife was instructed not to look around, she looked straight ahead. But when he walked into her view, they smiled and kind of laughed at each other. She said it was funny.

So, I go back to the other Commie, and salute him again. He put his hand out again, and I gave him the paperwork this time. Again he went into the shack and made his call. He came out, returned my paperwork, and for the third and final time, we saluted. I then did a Parade Ground Perfect about face movment, and walked to my car.

I got back in my car, and slowly proceeded through the checkpoint. Once through, we went along the East German Autobahn at precisely 100Kph (60 miles an hour); the speed limit over there (in West Germany, the speed limit inside the city limits is 100 kph; outside it is unlimited – pretty cool). The difference between the two countries was amazing.

Great Article by Krauthammer

2006-07-19T07:18:00.000-07:00

I read this article by the Chrales Krauthammer this morning over at Realclearpolitics, which is one of the better places to go for political commentary.

I highly recommend it, as most of the other stuff there. Good insight from all over the political spectrum...

Only The French

2006-07-14T06:28:00.000-07:00

Would classless enough to sue for a replay of the World Cup Championship Game because their star player was an ass and got insulted enough to go ballistic and do something to get him kicked out.

"Doubts over whether a match official relied on video evidence of Zidane's head butt to Italian defender Marco Materazzi meant the final should be replayed, lawyer Mehana Mouhou said."

What a bunch of tools.

But considering where it is coming from, I really shouldn't be surprised.... They think they can do no wrong, and nothing is their fault.

The Hammer of God

2006-07-12T17:31:00.000-07:00

is falling on Lebanon. The is Israeli Army has taken up positions in Lebanon, and they are not leaving soon.

My favorite quote from this article:

"If the soldiers are not returned, we will turn Lebanon's clock back 20 years."

A can of Whoop Ass has been opened, and the Israelis are doing the dealing.

They have already bombed the Palestinian Authority Building...

I guess voting for a terrorist orgnization as your representative government wasn't such a good thing, huh??

Go get 'em, IDF!!!

UPDATE: This blog is keeping a great update on the situation. Keep it up, Dave!!!

I SO Cannot Wait for This to Happen

2006-07-12T06:41:00.000-07:00

"Major League Baseball officials expect Barry Bonds to be indicted on perjury and tax evasion charges, according to a report in Tuesday's editions of the New York Daily News."

Go here for the full skinny!!

Barry Bonds is a self-absorbed prick. I never liked him even before he was accused of taking steroids, and I think everything about him is phony.

On the other hand, he is probably the single greatest player of his generation, which is the shame if it all.

I hope he spends serious time in prison, and if the steroids allegations prove true (I am sure they will); he never gets into Cooperstown.

What kind of friend are you?

2006-07-10T12:30:00.000-07:00

Go here and find out.

I have Texas friends, and I have other friends, and I will take my Texas friends, and my friends from Texas, anyday...

Taken from A Trainwreck in Maxwell.

Good site, by the way.

Another Camping trip

2006-07-08T19:44:00.000-07:00

Well, The HH6 and the M60 gunner (wife and son) elements are again off to camp; this time down south of here... It will be 5 straght weeks for those two. It started with Yosemite, then the North Coast, then Cub Scout Camp (one overnight), then last week's marathon for the 4th ofJuly (which was gorgeous weather), and now this trip for 3 nights.

I am sure that the Gunner will have fun, but HH6? she will be thoroughtly tired by the time she is done.

But she is a remarkable mother who will do anything for her kids.... I wanted to go on this trip, but she says that this is the last trip she will be going on, as he will be a Boy Scout next year. I doubt that, as she says that she is going on the Catalina Island trip in a couple of years... So so much for that idea. She just wanted to go down to the Big Sur area...

Have fun!!

Update on the Korea Thingie

2006-07-08T17:08:00.000-07:00

It looks like we are going to be testing some more Kick-Ass Military Equipment if those pesky North Koreans decide they want to lauch another missile or 9...

This story reports that the USS Mustin, one of the most advanced guided missile destroyers in the US Navy (ergo, the whole planet) is en route to join the US 7th Fleet. The Navy says that this move has been planned for months, but I see the BS being waved somewhere...

I still thini we need to have acouple Stealth Bombers fly over Pyongyang just to say hello to the fine folks Up North...

And if an errant missile or Daisy Cutter were to drop, so much the better...

Why I Hate Country Music

2006-07-08T16:20:00.000-07:00

I like most kinds of music, except for two: Country and Western (I don't consider "Hip Hop" and "Rap" music; it is shit).

I used to listen to some C&W (my wiife likes it), but when I deployed to Op Desert Shield, I was so immersed in the stuff that I literally got sick of it.

This is the culminating story:

I was picked for a detail that required me to separate from most of my unit. This detail had to pakc up and get a bunch of gear ready for shipment back to Germany. I was one of about 12 guys, all guys I pretty much knew. However, the guys that I knew outranked me. No bigge; it was not a bad detail and we all got along pretty well.. Except that thee guys were hard tried and true Rednecks.

Now I had listened to Country music a lot (not by choice, but such is life in the Army); when in tents with the platoon it would be playing a lot. Randy Travis, Garth Brooks, Travis Tritt, you name it and I can probably sing the lyrics and tell you who tries to sing it. When I got sick of it I would put on my handy Walkman and immerse myself in the music of my choice (at the time - Late 80's/early 90's) I was into the post-Punk/European New Wave scene (Depeche Mode/New Order/Smiths/Joy Divison/Clash/Ramones/etc/etc/).

Not this time. The tent next to us during this detail was playing serious and obnoxious rap crap, and it would not stop... at all, until very late at night. Well, my tried and true Redneck Friends had had enough, and broke out Hank Williams. Not Hank Wiliams, JR, but twangy, sing-songy Hank Williams and would wait until the troops in the Tent Next Door (we didn't know them; they were from a different unit) would finally stop their rap crap and begin with Ol' Hank. And. Would. Not. Stop. It was so loud and obnoxious that I could not drown it
out with my walkman (they eventually "ordered" me to turn it off, in case they needed my batteries. Assholes (I say that with the utmost respect to the Non-Commissioned Officer Corps of the United States Army).

This battle lasted for about three days.

There are few exceptions today (some patriotic 9/11 songs and Charlie Daniels), but I am pretty burned out on it. The experience of that, plus living in Texas for 3 years will burn anyone out.

I have graduated to more metal and hard rock (Rammstein, Metallica, Ministry), but I am a total 80's geek through and through.

Now you know (if you were ever interested in the first place).

And, if SSG J. Smith (you know who you are) ever reads this, thanks for nothing, and do I have permission to speak yet???

Always Ready, Sergeant!

God, I really miss it all...

Oops

2006-07-07T12:03:00.000-07:00

Looks like the Army lieutenant that announced he wasn't going to engage in "war crimes" is in deeper doo-doo than he thought.

Go here and read up on the other charges this asshole is being charged with, besides Article 87, Missing a Troop Movement.

I read this originally at Rivrdog, a great site in and of itself... He has all kinds of good information everyone should know.

For what it is worth, I normally do not call officers names. For one thing, when I was in it was bad mojo (you can and should go to jail for it); besides, I knew few bad officers when I was in... I was pretty lucky. Being in the Cavalry is like no other unit anywhere.... but I could be wrong.

But back to the topic at hand. This "officer" had no plans to deploy, and made his bed. Talking bad about the President and other topics are not protected in the military. He knew it, and is going to pay the price.

Few people know that your rights are not like all the civilians in the military. It is the only place in American society where a dictatorship, for lack of a better term, is commonplace. Strict obedeince to orders and discipline is the name of the game. True, a soldier is required to no obey an unlawful order, but I never experienced an unlawful order.

I hope this guy gets life.

New Krauthammer Article is out

2006-07-07T06:03:00.000-07:00

Go here and read about it. It talks about the latest Supreme Court ruling concerning Guantanamo and the terrorists there....

Interesting reading, as always from Mr. K.

So I Come Home

2006-07-06T17:07:00.000-07:00

From work today, and my son is screamin fmr me to hurry up, as he wants me to watch the replay of Tuesday's Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest.

The Japanese guy, Kobayashi Maru (or whatever his name is) won it for the 6th year in a row, and broke the world record to boot!!

My boy cracks me up sometimes...

HOME AT LAST!!

2006-07-05T14:55:00.000-07:00

Just got home. Tired. Sore. Dirty . Hot.

Will show incredible pics and share stories later.

New Friend

2006-06-30T12:33:00.000-07:00

I have found a sick and demented soul with clear political views. Go to Flaming Asshattery and read; he will crack you up as well as make you think.

Good stuff...

Thinking about a change

2006-06-30T09:23:00.000-07:00

So I was talking to Lee, a buddy of mine, on my way to the gym this morning, and we discussed Texas.

He lives in a coastal city not far from Houston. He was able to make the funeral of our mutual friend, Flick, who died in April. Anyway, he is thinking of moving to Waco, as a friend of his is going to start a company there. I have relatives in Waco, and moving there is very tempting. My daughter's best friend's family just moved there (Texas), and the cost of living is much lower than here in Sociaist California (People's Repoublic of).

However, there are a lot of reasons I can't move just yet. I have to stay here for my kids to be eligible for tuition-free college, which I should not throw away. Also, I am the one my parents rely on for stuff when they need it. So, I don't know.... My parents are pretty set where they are, and they should be.

I just have to figure it out.

What is "Charge of Quarters"

2006-06-30T09:15:00.000-07:00

My son Bailey was reading over my shoulder, and he asked me what Charge of Quarters is. So I explained to him that Charge of Quarters, or CQ, is an enlisted man who handles his unit's administrative matters after hours. It is normally handled by an NCO (NonCommisioned officer - CPL or above in the Army), and you have to stay up all night to answer phone calls and make sure the troops don't make asses of themsleves and burn the barracks down.

Normally one has it after working all day, and having to stay up all night is not a welcome thought.

If the CQ has an assiatant, he gets to sleep; ortherwise they read or play Playstation or XBox...

But it still sucks...

Now you know.

I have a complex

2006-06-30T09:09:00.000-07:00

that my dog has given me.

Bella, my 82 lb. German Shepherd wimp with a ferocious bark, loves to give me kisses. She will lay down all day, and when I get home, she will come to me happy and lavish me with her tongue. But when she is done, she will start to clean herself.

Do I smell that bad???

She makes me wonder...

Watching Senator "Scrtached! I get a Purple Heart" Kerry

2006-06-29T17:34:00.000-07:00

On The O'Reilly Factor, and I am still convinced that Senator Kerry is a twit. For the people of the United States to trust him or his ilk the National Security of this nation would seriously jeopardize this country to the point that we would be attacked within 6 months.

I guarantee it.

I cannot wait for him to wither up and become irrelevant, or at least not hear his voice ever again.

What a twit.

"You can Change the World"

2006-06-29T13:20:00.000-07:00

I am in an 80s mood lately, as I have said before, and I recall a great song by, again, Depeche Mode, called New Dress. If you read the lyrics, I'm not sure what he means by change the facts, but I think I know what he means...

Sex jibe husband murders wife
Bomb blast victim fights for life
Girl Thirteen attacked with knife

Princess Di is wearing a new dress

Jet airliner shot from sky
Famine horror, millions die
Earthquake terror figures rise

Princess Di is wearing a new dress

You can't change the world
But you can change the facts
And when you change the facts
You change points of view
If you change points of view
You may change a vote
And when you change a vote
You may change the world

In black townships fires blaze
Prospects better premier says
Within sight are golden days

Princess Di is wearing a new dress

You can't change the world
But you can change the facts
And when you change the facts
You change points of view
If you change points of view
You may change a vote
And when you change a vote
You may change the world

Princess Di is wearing a new dress

Words to ponder this fine June....

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

2006-06-29T12:03:00.000-07:00

To to let everyone out there know, if I ever meet anyone who either discloses classified information or reports on it after learning about it, I will spit in your face and kick you in the crotch.

To me there is no lower form of human who would sell out their country. I admire Islamists more; at least they have an ideal that they are fighting for (screwed up though it may be, and they do not F their buddies for a by-line).

I took an oath, twice. The first was to support and defend the Constitution against ALL enemies, foreign AND domestic. To me, someone who srites about ongoing classified anti-terror operations is an enemy. You cannot hide behind the 1st Amendment; go read the new Ann Coulter article.

The second oath was in the forma of a Non-Disclosure Agreement. It basically said that in exchange for the privilege of working with classified information, I would not tell anybody. Pretty straghtforward, if you ask me. So someone who breaks that promise in a time of war should be shot, after a trial by a jury of his/her peers. It should also be televised (I would even pay for it, on Pay-Per-View and record the fucker getting shot). There should be no leniency. I am amazed that Congress is not doing anything about it. But it is an election year...

If they are now able to blow up the Transamerica Building in San Francisco because of diverted funds that could have been traced using the SWIFT program, we should punish those directly or indirectly responsible. That includes the staff writers and their editor and the editor in chief. String them all up.

Mrdejte Vas, vsechne (if any of my Czech-speking friends knows how to properly spell this, let me know and I will change it; if you are reading it anyway.

Joy Division

2006-06-28T17:37:00.000-07:00

One of the most influential bands of the post punk era is Joy Division. Though they only made 2 records before their lead singer, Ian Curtis, committed sucide on the eve of their first American tour, they did pave a way for other groups, like The Smiths (later Morrisey), Souxie and the Banshees, Eho & the Bunnymen, and even Depeche Mode. After Curtis' death, the rest of the band then went to form New Order, one of the biggest bands ofthe 80s.

Go here for their most famous song, "Love Will Tear Us Apart."

F0r a really cool mix of the same song, go here.

Their lyrics began a step away from the anti-social to the depressed and dark side...

Kick-ass stuff. Shame that Curtis' genius was not around longer.

Hadji Girl Update!

2006-06-28T09:03:00.000-07:00

It looks like he jas bee exonerated!!

Michelle Malkin has the full hot order here.

Good news that the First Amendment is alive and well!!

The last line of his statement is priceless:

"If you don't want to listen to my music, I'm sure your volume knob works as well as mine."

Amen to that!

UPDATE: Link fixed, at leat (Thanks, Anonymous...)

Another update on the Country That Takes No Shit

2006-06-28T06:35:00.000-07:00

Looks like the Palestinians are showing their asses again, and need to be put in their place, so the IDF has no problems fulfilling that request. The Palestinians kidnapped a soldier, and Israel wants him back. Not an unreasonable request, in my not so humble opinion.

I just wish the US would d0 what it had to do in these situations, and tell the UN and whoever else doesn't like it to stick it where the sun don't shine. Someone grabs a soldier, we go in and start acting like Atilla the Hun, or what ever and go medieval on the perpetrators. Long Life Through Superior Firepower, is a favorite motto of mine.

Like the countries that rely on us (oh, EVERYBODY ELSE in the WORLD) will stop trading or whatever with us because we are dealing with people who want us dead.

The UN? Screw. Them. France? Ditto. Germany? Grow a pair.

Just my thought.

Kudos the Israel, and take some out for me.

Somebody - Depeche Mode

2006-06-28T06:26:00.000-07:00

These are the lyrics of a song from one of my favorite bads (and you thgought I didn't like 80's synth pop...)

I want somebody to share
Share the rest of my life
Share my innermost thoughts
Know my intimate details
Someone who'll stand by my side
And give me support
And in return
She'll get my support
She will listen to me
When I want to speak
About the world we live in
And life in general
Though my views may be wrong
They may even be perverted
She will hear me out
And won't easily be converted
To my way of thinking
In fact she'll often disagree
But at the end of it all
She will understand me

I want somebody who cares
For me passionately
With every thought and with every breath
Someone who'll help me see things
In a different light
All the things I detest
I will almost like
I don't want to be tied
To anyone's strings
I'm carefully trying to steer clear
Of those things
But when I'm asleep
I want somebody
Who will put their arms around me
And kiss me tenderly
Though things like this
Make me sick
In a case like this
I'll get away with it

Brings me back to my youth...

"Everyone Deserves a Chance"

2006-06-26T08:31:00.000-07:00

Snagged from Army.mil

Lifelong wish comes true for Soldier-at-heart

By Allison Choike

June 22, 2006

FORT LEONARD WOOD, Mo. (Army News Service, June 22, 2006) – A roar of cheers echoed off the tree line that surrounded the bayonet course June 15, and they were encouraging words to help a fellow Soldier as he finished the last steps of the course. Over and over, more than 200 Soldiers chanted, “Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” in support of their one-day comrade.

His dream had come true; Bradley Lewis was a real Soldier, and the Soldiers from Training Support Battalion at Fort Leonard Wood helped him make that dream a reality.

Lewis, who has Down syndrome, works at one of the post’s dining facilities, and has always wanted to be a Soldier. After submitting his dream to the Make-A-Wish Foundation, he was denied because of his age.

Staff Sgt. Charles Berry, TSB, who volunteers within the community had heard about Lewis’ story.

“I actually heard about it from some people while I was shopping at Wal-Mart, and they approached me to see what to do. I went to my first sergeant and explained the situation, and he told me to make it happen, and anyone who knows me knows I don’t fail a mission,” Berry said.

With support from TSB, funds were raised to make sure Lewis had an experience that he would never forget, including a full uniform with name-tags and badges, all to keep.

“To be a Soldier, you have to look like a Soldier,” Berry said.

A full day was planned for Lewis to ensure it was an experience he’d never forget, and when he arrived at TSB headquarters at 8 a.m., he was sworn into the Army.

First Lt. Zachary Humbles swore him in and was honored to make Lewis a Soldier.

“I have the great privilege and honor of administering an oath to a Soldier who, in heart and spirit, totally exemplifies what we should all hope to possess,” Humbles said.

Lewis was then given the opportunity to pick the rank he would wear for the day and soon became Sgt. Maj. Lewis.

Lewis viewed training at various sites, and also participated at the grenade range, the new weapons engaged systems training (EST 2000), M16 qualification and finished the day at the bayonet course, Berry said.

“Everything was fun. It was cool. I am going to remember everything and shooting a weapon, but it was easy,” Lewis said.

Each of the Soldiers gave Lewis a warm and great welcome at every training area and range he visited, Berry said.

As the day closed and Lewis finished his last obstacle, Soldiers from Company C, 1st Battalion 48th Infantry Regiment, gathered around to say how proud they were to meet Lewis. They all broke out in a chant of, “We are number one.”

When asked why Berry wanted to help Lewis become a Soldier for a day he said, “Everyone deserves a chance." (emphasis mine - ed.)

Lewis was honorably discharged from the Army at 4:30 p.m., with his wish to serve his country granted.

“I just wanted to serve God and country. I wanted to make President Bush proud,” Lewis said.

(Editor’s note: Allison Choike writes for the Guidon at Fort Leonard Wood, Mo.)

What a great story...

Private Military Companies (PMCs)- Why Not?

2006-06-26T08:12:00.000-07:00

I watched a program last night on the History International Channel entitels, "Soldiers For Hire." It was about modern PMCs and their effects and needs during times of crisis.

My question is this: If government troops cannot handle the current situation (as was the case in Africa during the last, oh, 40 years or so), and there is a service - in this case specially trained personnell in crisis and risk management, and oh, counter-insurgency, intelligence and guerilla warfare, then why cannot that government hire that company to solve its crisis?

If I had that kind of training you can bet your sweet ass that I would be using that training for the betterment of mankind. Executive Outcomes did an amazing job in two months in Sierra Leone and other African countries before the UN (spit) basically forced them to stop. And once they stopped, the problems started all over again.

So I ask you, why not? KBR, Dyncorps, and other PMCs are doing good things in Iraq and Afghanistan right now, and people are bitching. Leave them alone and let them help out.

And Screw The UN - they can kiss my white Welsh/Dutch/Iroquois ass. They are more a deterrent to civility than anything else on the planet. Some day I might write a tome on them, and it will not be pretty.....

Ben Stein Speaks!

2006-06-26T08:10:00.000-07:00

Go and read, it is worth it.

Great article about what it means to be Republican.

The Korea Option

2006-06-22T08:25:00.000-07:00

Whenever I received a briefing on Korea, the main word was "When", not "if." Korea has the ability to pound Seoul, the capital of South Korea, with something like 10,000 artillery shells a minute. A. Minute. For an indefinite period of time. So basically, within a day or so, the capital of South Korea could be totally destroyed within a day or so.

So the threat is real.

So is the ICBM missile on the launch pad they are getting ready to throw across the Pacific.

David Warren, a writer for the Ottowa Citizen, realizes the grave consequences of this and says in plain terms that this is an Act of War.

Another Washington Post article suggests that we drop a missile on their missile in this article.

While listening to Hugh Hewitt the other day (Jed Babbin was the guest host), it was recommneded that we blow it out of the sky with the interceptor missiles that are in Alaska and California. I tend to agree.

We should not let them get away with their sabre rattling. It is time for us to show the world that the time for harsh words and rhetoric is over. Drop some cruise missiles in Iran (wherever, just to make a pont) and North Korea (at the ICBM lauch facility) and say that yes, we have troops hard at work in Iraq, Afghanistan, the Balkans, and other places, but that doesn't mean that we cannot still whip some ass when the can is opened.

Right now there is a major joint exercise in the Guam area. 3 Carrier Battle Groups, and at least 1 Stealth Bomber. Why not divert some of the group a little close to Korea, and arm the Spirit Bomber with a cruise missile and tell them that we are ready to dance...

I am tired of this country having to make statements and issue warnings. THey have done squat in the past, and unless some muscle is shown, we will continue to look the fool, while assholes like Ahmadinejad and Kim Jong-il (or whateverthehell his name is) laugh and proceed with their nuclear plans (what other use is the Taepodong-2 missile for - a fireworks show).

We need a show of strength.

Article that should give Conservatives hope

2006-06-22T08:23:00.000-07:00

With all the rhetoric from the Left about taking over the House and Senate this year, Victor Davis Hanson gives us this article, which realistically paints a pretty picture come election time.

Go and read.

And they say we should come home?

2006-06-21T06:03:00.000-07:00

After reading this, I wonder if the people who say that we should cut and run really know what the hell they are talking about.

When the lawyer for the dictator gets whacked, I thin kthat should send a signal that maybe he (the dictator) wasn't really elected with 99% of the vote... And maybe that the regime change was A Good Thing...

Just my opinion; your mileage may vary.

Oh, and the last I heard, Zarqawi is still dead, may he rot in Hell.

Update

2006-06-21T05:59:00.000-07:00

After spending the weekend on the North Coast of this People's Republik of Kaliforniastan, I came home to my son's final party with his baseball team. After a great game in the semifinal round, we came up a run short against the Athletics in what was the best minor little league baseball game I have honestly seen. All the boys played well and should be proud of themselves.

My son won the sportsmanship award, which is awarded by the teammates themselves; the coaches had no input whatsoever. So I think that this award shows that I am at least doing something right...

Congrats Yogi and the Yankees, you did well this year.