I just saw the delightful Megyn Kelly on Fox News report that an individual known as Rep Murtha (D, PA), reputedly once a US Marine, has shed the mortal coil.
Somewhere, a cricket chirps.
:: Comments left behind ::
Wow. That's one way to put it, I suppose. Can't say I was a big fan of the guy.
:: PSYOP Cop February 8, 2010 01:10 PMThere will be a Special Election within 60 days to replace him. I wonder if Bill Russell will run again?
:: AnotherOpinion February 8, 2010 01:59 PMDay 4 in Camp Lejeune: in the BOQ, enjoying the first quarters that I haven't shared with at least one other person in several months.
I understand there's massive snow throughout the mid-Atlantic but here it's all rain.
Many thanks to all of you who logged welcome-home comments. I appreciate all of them. (BR Doc H: the first beer was a FREE Warsteiner on Lufthansa from Kuwait to Frankfurt; I have since switched back to Sam. Sgt B: good point on the .45! But I need to get back to it.)
More to follow.
:: Comments left behind ::
Welcome back, LTC.
:: LC Scotty February 6, 2010 04:03 AMLTCJPP; welcome home, you must really try Sam's new seasonal beer, Nobel Pils. A Classic Pilsner. Be lucky you aren't in the DC area you could watch the snow fall.
:: Townie 76 February 6, 2010 04:44 AMWelcome home Sir.
:: Mike D. February 6, 2010 10:39 AMWelcome home Sir,you earned it:)
:: canopfor February 6, 2010 06:26 PMA very belated welcome back to CONUS, sir. Very glad and grateful to God for your safe return. Surely someone at Lejeune has a 1911 you can wrap your paws around. Your hands will then feel like they are home!
:: USMC_Back_In_The_Day February 6, 2010 10:08 PMAm now in Charlotte Airport, waiting on the flight to Lejeune. I am freaking exhausted. And I stink.
But I have had beer.
:: Comments left behind ::
Call when you hit town.
:: MDL February 3, 2010 04:12 PMWelcome back to the States. Your service is appreciated!
:: Michael February 3, 2010 06:03 PMI'm glad that you're home safe. Thank you for your service to the west.
:: Scott February 3, 2010 07:02 PMMy brotha! Am in Durham; e-mail you sched so we can have a beer or two together at the Wooden Nickel.
WELCOME HOME. BRAVO ZULU, my friend.
:: Drifter05 February 3, 2010 08:43 PMGlad to have you home safe Sir! Talk soon!
OB
:: chris obrian February 3, 2010 09:58 PMWelcome home (((hugs)))
:: mindy1 February 4, 2010 04:54 AMPray tell what was the illustrious first beverage? I had a Sam Adams first then went with a good microbrew stout.
:: Doc H February 4, 2010 05:04 AMWelcome home!!!
:: olga February 4, 2010 12:34 PME.C. Welcome back! Beers on me when I next see you! Herodotus
:: herodotus February 4, 2010 04:10 PMWelcome back, sir!!
put yer bags down, kick yer feet up, and relax.
Have (just one) beer...
:: Sgt B February 4, 2010 04:48 PMGood to have you back stateside sir! Thank you for your service and I hope you enjoy the snow!
:: JB February 5, 2010 01:05 PMWelcome home Sir,from your neighbour
in Canada:)
Welcome home,sir and bless you for your service!
:: Katy the mean old lady February 5, 2010 09:28 PMchina jewelry
:: china jewelry February 6, 2010 04:41 AMhref="http://www.chinajewelrymakingsupplies.com/">jewelry supplies
:: jewelry supplies February 6, 2010 04:47 AMdizi izle thanks
:: vidioizlee February 7, 2010 04:15 AMShorn am I of two constant companions since mid-August of last year-- my 9mm and my M4. I turned both in today, duly cleaned (and with a small net gain of ammo, to boot). I feel oddly under-dressed without them.
I also removed the tourniquet and IBD that had been in my sleeve pockets for six months. Again, it doesn't feel quite right not to have them on board.
In about 24 hours or so I'll be airborne (!) back to the States, and this whole thing will be nearly done. That is the strangest feeling of them all.
:: Comments left behind ::
And we happily welcome you back! Safe travels.
Can you hang on to your thigh holster? My husband turned his in, much to my chagrin. I would prefer he wear it even while mowing the lawn, but that's just me. Maybe.
:: Mrs. USMC February 1, 2010 09:18 AMI can imagine how all that must feel. Thanks for serving and I hope that your transition is smooth.
:: Mike P February 1, 2010 10:00 AMThat's great! Hope you have a good flight home, and don't have to wait too long for it.
:: JohnW February 1, 2010 10:46 AMI remember staying at my parents' home when I cam back from RVN. It took a while to get over the nagging sense of discomfort at the fact that when I was in bed I couldn't reach out and touch my M16, and that there was no perimeter wire, claymores, guards, etc. around their house in a well-to-do suburb of Los Angeles.
May you have a safe trip home.
Welcome home, Bro!
Thank you for your service to our Corps and Country.
BTW, when you hear a boom, it's just a car backfiring, not incoming.
Semper Fi
:: Vance Hall February 2, 2010 04:40 AMGodspeed
:: KC February 2, 2010 07:09 AMWelcome home
:: mindy1 February 2, 2010 07:13 AMIt's strange coming home after being there. Nothing feels right for a while. My wife got on me for driving in the left hand lane on the Interstate all the time, and shifting lanes while going under the overpass.
I'd been home a year when I swirved almost off the road- I had seen at the last second a stack of rocks piled by the side.
I still watch the voerpasses for slow moving vehicles- even after being home for over 2 years.
My scars still itch...
God watch over your flight home, sir.
The Thunder Run has linked to this post in the blog post From the Front: 02/02/2010 News and Personal dispatches from the front and the home front.
:: David M February 2, 2010 10:46 AMHey BR,
It is good to be home, I am sure you will enjoy the difference. Amazingly there is very little dust in this country we call home.
I just finally put up my holster and the first aid stuff I had squirreled away in my pockets as well.
Welcome back home, BR
:: Doc H February 2, 2010 01:35 PMThat's great! Hope you have a good flight home.
:: Tek Düzen Muhasebe February 2, 2010 03:19 PMSave travels and many thanks for your service.
:: zombyboy February 2, 2010 05:42 PMhave a good flight home! you are coming into another snow storm :o)
:: olga February 2, 2010 06:05 PMSafe travels,and thank-you as well,for
serving.
I hoped you bumped into Hawkdriver in
Afghanistan,he posts on Hot Air:)
Well and good. Thank you for your service.
May you have blue skies and soft landings on your way home!
And this is one of the few times when disarming someone actually puts a smile on my face. Have an uneventful flight and an emotion filled reunion with your loved ones.
yeah, sir, but at least you're back with your .45...
:: Sgt B February 4, 2010 04:55 PMSince Tango Seven-Six got the humor ball rolling, and I'm pretty happy to be in Kuwait, here's a good one courtesy of "Abu Musa" at CSTC-A CJ-5...
A duck walks into a health food store, looks up at the clerk and asks, "You got any duck food here?"
The clerk replies, "No. It's a health food store. We sell health food."
So the duck turns around and walks out.
The next day the duck walks in, asks the same question and gets the same answer. And then the day after that, too.
On the fourth day, the duck walks in, looks up at the clerk and asks, "You got any duck food here?"
The clerk leans over and says emphatically, "NO. WE DO NOT. And if you come in here again with that stupid question, I'm going to nail your feet to the floor."
So the duck turns around and walks out.
On the next day, the clerk sees the duck walk in, look up and ask, "You got any nails here??"
The clerk gives him a WTF look and says, "No, of course not."
So the duck answers, "Good. You got any duck food?"
:: Comments left behind ::
My cousin in Ohio sent this, it is too funny not to share.
Subject: The Best Story of the Year
The pastor asked if anyone in the congregation would like to express
praise for answered prayers. Suzie Smith stood and walked to the
podium.
She said, "I have a praise. Two months ago, my husband, Tom,
had a terrible bicycle wreck and his scrotum was completely crushed.
The pain was excruciating and the doctors didn't know if they could
help him."
You could hear a muffled gasp from the men in the
congregation as they imagined the pain that poor Tom must have
experienced. "Tom was unable to hold me or the children," she went on,
"and every move caused him terrible pain. We prayed as the doctors
performed a delicate operation, and it turned out they were able to
piece together the crushed remnants of Tom's scrotum, and wrap wire
around it to hold it in place."
A gain, the men in the congregation cringed and squirmed uncomfortably as they imagined the horrible surgery performed on Tom. "Now," she announced in a quivering voice,
"thank the Lord, Tom is out of the hospital and the doctors say that
with time, his scrotum should recover completely." A ll the men sighed
with unified relief. The pastor rose and tentatively asked if anyone
else had something to say.
A man stood up and walked slowly to the podium. He said, "I'm Tom Smith." The entire congregation held its breath. "I just want to tell my wife the word is sternum."
:: Comments left behind ::
LOLOL XD too funny
:: mindy1 January 31, 2010 06:32 PMhttp://roostershamblin.wordpress.com/ would you please spend a few minutes of your time and check out my new blog. I am a farmer who has been raising more than 50 breeds of chickens for forty years.
:: Rooster Shamblin January 31, 2010 07:06 PMThat was a good one. And yes it definitely needed to be posted!
:: BIlly February 2, 2010 08:09 PMThis was sent to me by a friend. For all who have had to serve as a notification officer the feelings and sentiments expressed by the author are familiar.
Burial at Sea
by Lt. Col. George Goodson, USMC (Ret)
In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from time to time, as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most were trivial.
War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has endured it. Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic and was wounded there, Vietnam was my war.
Now 42 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of those days in Cambodia, Laos, and the panhandle of North Vietnam where small teams of Americans and Montangards fought much larger elements of the North Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some exotic, some mundane:
*The smell of Nuc Mam.
*The heat, dust, and humidity.
*The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets.
*Elephants moving silently through the tall grass.
*Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers.
*Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar.
*A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby.
*The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao.
*My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland.
It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in Vietnam. Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from Indianapolis to Norfolk, rented a house, enrolled my children in their fifth or sixth new school, and bought a second car.
A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to Little Creek, Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office. Appearance is important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a poster Marine. I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only 30 days before. At 5'9", I now weighed 128 pounds - 37 pounds below my normal weight. My uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was yellow from malaria medication, and I think I had a twitch or two.
I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked at the nameplate on a Staff Sergeant's desk and said, "Sergeant Jolly, I'm Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and my Qualification Jacket."
Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck out his hand; we shook and he asked, "How long were you there, Colonel?" I replied "18 months this time." Jolly breathed, "You must be a slow learner, Colonel." I smiled.
Jolly said, "Colonel, I'll show you to your office and bring in the Sergeant Major. I said, "No, let's just go straight to his office." Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, "Colonel, the Sergeant Major. He's been in this job two years. He's packed pretty tight. I'm worried about him." I nodded.
Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major's office. "Sergeant Major, this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Officer." The Sergeant Major stood, extended his hand and said, "Good to see you again, Colonel." I responded, "Hello Walt, how are you?" Jolly looked at me, raised an eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door.
I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of coffee and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt's stress was palpable. Finally, I said, "Walt, what's the hell's wrong?" He turned his chair, looked out the window and said, "George, you're going to wish you were back in Nam before you leave here. I've been in the Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for 14 months, and Vietnam for 12 months. Now I come here to bury these kids. I'm putting my letter in. I can't take it anymore." I said, "OK Walt. If that's what you want, I'll endorse your request for retirement and do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine Corps."
Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too much suffering. He was used up.
Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications, conducted 28 military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the families of Marines that were severely wounded or missing in action. Most of the details of those casualty notifications have now, thankfully, faded from memory. Four, however, remain.
MY FIRST NOTIFICATION
My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I was notified of the death of a 19 year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters Marine Corps. The information detailed:
*Name, rank, and serial number.
*Name, address, and phone number of next of kin.
*Date of and limited details about the Marine's death.
*Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station.
*A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or closed.
The boy's family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 60 miles away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state line into North Carolina, I stopped at a small country store/service station/Post Office. I went in to ask directions.
Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small Post Office window. The man held a package. The store owner walked up and addressed them by name, "Hello John. Good morning Mrs. Cooper."
I was stunned. My casualty's next-of-kin's name was John Cooper!
I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, "I beg your pardon. Are you Mr. and Mrs. John Cooper of (address.)
The father looked at me - I was in uniform - and then, shaking, bent at the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me. Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I think I caught her before she hit the floor.
The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr. Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I drove them home in my staff car. The store owner locked the store and followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began arriving.
I returned the store owner to his business. He thanked me and said, "Mister, I wouldn't have your job for a million dollars." I shook his hand and said; "Neither would I."
I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the door, and sat there all night, alone.
My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death notification.
THE FUNERALS
Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals. I borrowed Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and how to fold the flag.
When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said, "All Marines share in your grief." I had been instructed to say, "On behalf of a grateful nation...." I didn't think the nation was grateful, so I didn't say that.
Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn't speak. When that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder. They would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, "I'm so sorry you have this terrible job." My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over and kissed her.
ANOTHER NOTIFICATION
Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young PFC. I drove to his mother's house. As always, I was in uniform and driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across the yard, screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO!"
I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her up and carried her into the house. Eight or nine neighbors followed. Ten or fifteen minutes later, the father came in followed by ambulance personnel. I have no recollection of leaving.
The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and shook his head sadly.
ANOTHER NOTIFICATION
One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant Jolly held the phone up and said, "You've got another one, Colonel." I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes, thanked the officer making the call, I have no idea why, and hung up. Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone Directory that translates telephone numbers into the person's address and place of employment.
The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my office. I called the Longshoreman's Union Office and asked for the Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and asked for the father's schedule.
The Business Manager asked, "Is it his son?" I said nothing. After a moment, he said, in a low voice, "Tom is at home today." I said, "Don't call him. I'll take care of that." The Business Manager said, "Aye, Aye Sir," and then explained, "Tom and I were Marines in WWII."
I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw instantly that she was clueless. I asked, "Is Mr. Smith home?" She smiled pleasantly and responded, "Yes, but he's eating breakfast now. Can you come back later?" I said, "I'm sorry. It's important. I need to see him now."
She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, "Tom, it's for you."
A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door. He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said, "Jesus Christ man, he's only been there three weeks!"
Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth....... I never could do that..... and held an imaginary phone to his ear.
Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, "Got it." and hung up. I had stopped saying "Thank You" long ago.
Jolly, "Where?"
Me, "Eastern Shore of Maryland . The father is a retired Chief Petty Officer. His brother will accompany the body back from Vietnam ...."
Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, "This time of day, it'll take three hours to get there and back. I'll call the Naval Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I'll have Captain Tolliver get one f his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief's home."
He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father's door. He opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at parade rest beside the car, and asked, "Which one of my boys was it, Colonel?"
I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office and home phone number and told him to call me, anytime.
He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00PM). "I've gone through my boy's papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you make that happen?" I said, "Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will."
My wife who had been listening said, "Can you do that?" I told her, "I have no idea. But I'm going to break my ass trying."
I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation, and asked, "General, can you get me a quick appointment with the Admiral at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters?" General Bowser said, "George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will see you."
I was and the Admiral did. He said coldly, "How can the Navy help the Marine Corps, Colonel." I told him the story. He turned to his Chief of Staff and said, "Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?" The Chief of Staff responded with a name.
The Admiral called the ship, "Captain, you're going to do a burial at sea. You'll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this mission is completed..."
He hung up, looked at me, and said, "The next time you need a ship, Colonel, call me. You don't have to sic Al Bowser on my ass." I responded, "Aye Aye, Sir" and got the hell out of his office.
I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and the Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship's crew for four days. Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He said, "These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from floating?"
All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the Senior Chief stood and said, "Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the retired guys from World War II hang out."
They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worse for wear, and said, "It's simple; we cut four 12" holes in the outer shell of the casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of the casket. We can handle that, no sweat."
The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth.
The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed on a catafalque. The Chaplain spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played "Eternal Father Strong to Save." The casket was raised slightly at the head and it slid into the sea.
The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet. The incoming water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet, stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising from the sinking casket sparkled in the sunlight as the casket disappeared from sight forever....
The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, "General, get me out of here. I can't take this anymore." I was transferred two weeks later.
I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too much death and too much suffering. I was used up.
Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with me. He waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes, came to attention, saluted, and said, "Well Done, Colonel. Well Done."
I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor!
'A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made payable to
'The United States of America' for an amount of 'up to and including their life.'
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.'
:: Comments left behind ::
True story-this was published in the Marine Corps Gazette a couple of years ago. Every bit of it rings true.
:: JV January 31, 2010 01:22 PM:'( horrible job, very sad to have to do that. I thank all those who received that dreadful notice, and I am grateful for the sacrifice. I read a sad but beautiful book about that topic called Final Salute
:: mindy1 January 31, 2010 03:34 PMThis was making the email rounds in Kabul a few weeks ago. Honestly, I could barely read it.
:: LtCol P January 31, 2010 09:17 PM
New Dawn nearly didn’t get published. After working with Berkley Publishing on my last book, Marines in the Garden of Eden, I assumed that they would pick up New Dawn for publication—they didn’t.
Throughout 2008, I conducted interviews nearly every day, scoured the internet, and collected videos, photographs and documents. All the while, I had assumed that my publisher would pick up my Fallujah book. Marines in the Garden of Eden had made me a little money and Berkley Publishing seemed to be pleased with my sales. So, I spent very little time on my book proposal and when I submitted it to my agent, she insisted that I include a sample chapter. At the time, I only had the first chapter written, so I spent a few weeks cleaning it up and then I added it to my proposal. BIG MISTAKE!
New Dawn is a compelling compilation of stories of young American heroes. The stories will touch your soul. At the time, Chapter 1 was little more than an introduction to the bigger story. It wasn’t long before Berkley sent me a letter in which they declined to purchase the option on New Dawn. I was crushed.
Let’s back up for a moment. I found my agent in 2004 and she sold my Marines in the Garden of Eden manuscript shortly thereafter. I thank her for the effort she expended in signing me with one of the largest publishing houses in the world. Unfortunately, she never lifted another finger on my behalf. After Berkley dumped me on my head I told her that I wanted to rework my proposal and wait until I could add a compelling chapter to add, before she had to shop it around.
I set to work writing Jason Arellano’s story and completed that chapter next. After three months of hard work, I re-submitted my proposal to my agent and waited. She was supposed to shop the story around. I continued to wait, and wait, and wait. Finally, I contacted her and she told me that Berkley was going to reconsider my proposal (something they rarely do).
So, I waited some more. I waited for months. I tried contacting my agent and she ignored my repeated emails and telephone messages. Finally, I contacted the editor directly and she informed me that they had declined again.
I immediately fired my agent and asked for a release letter from Berkley.
Dejected, I wrote a post on op-for.com to tell my followers of my misfortune. Within a week, I heard from LtCol Nicholas Vuckovich, whom I had personally interviewed at Quantico. Nick had left the Marine Corps and was now working at the Marine Corps University. He offered condolences on the loss of my publisher and offered to help.
He told me that a friend of his, Gunny Nick Popaditch, had just published a book about his experiences in Fallujah, Once a Marine, and his difficulties in recovering from serious wounds and then returning to civilian life. He offered to put me in touch with “Gunny Pop” in hopes that he could help me get the attention of his publisher.
I contacted Nick and we were talking with each other on the telephone within a couple days. As luck would have it, Nick was about to meet with Ted Savas of Savas Beatie LLC. He told me that if I could get him a copy of my proposal, he would personally hand it to Ted and put in a good word for me to boot.
I signed a contract with Savas Beatie a couple months later and then I was back on track. Now, I could return to devoting all my attention to completing New Dawn. Furthermore, now I had a deadline.
Losing Berkley and finding Nick Popaditch, Ted Savas and Savas Beatie LLC was the best thing that ever happened to me. I had been a tiny fish in the Putnam/Penguin ocean of authors. But now I am a valued member of Savas Beatie’s elite group of authors. We have been working together as a dedicated team toward the common goal of bringing New Dawn to the marketplace. Today, I am a happy camper.
:: Comments left behind ::
After two days of cold rain, the clouds finally parted here at Bagram. It was nice to see the mountains all covered in snow-- better news still for the local farmers, because it's been a dry winter so far.
I left Kabul on wednesday and am waiting here for my flight to Kuwait, retracing my steps of August last year. Instead of flying in, we drove. I was very much looking forward to seeing the countryside I hadn't seen, but I was thwarted by the rain and low clouds, and by the ever-muddier windows of the MRAP. (Neat piece of gear, that.)
So here I sit, having gone from sixty to zero in a matter of hours. This is all part of a necessary decompression, but I confess that I don't always wait well. Doc H preceded me by about two weeks, and is now in Kuwait.
I do have time to read, to PT, and to clean my weapons. And, thankfully, my rack doesn't squeak. :-)
:: Comments left behind ::
Why would you worry about your rack squeaking!
:: Townie 76 January 29, 2010 01:20 AMThe question is: did you ever get to see a Kyrgyz on a yak?
:: GOP January 29, 2010 03:23 AMTownie-- YOU KNOW THE REASON!
GOPCC-- Some Kyrgyz, but none, sadly, on yaks.
:: LtCol P January 29, 2010 05:18 AMGood piece by David Ignatius in today's Washington Post on the importance of military partnerships and the use of all elements of national power. A particularly salient point was the military can not be the first answer to every problem with AQ or other terrorists organizations but takes times:
"Gen. Stanley McChrystal this week expressed a truth that military commanders know better than anyone: "A political solution to all conflicts is the inevitable outcome," he told the Financial Times. The problem is getting to that political settlement in a way that the combatants find acceptable. This can take years, even decades."
:: Comments left behind ::
Ir should be noted that defeat is a wondrous inducement to reach a political settlement.
:: Brad January 28, 2010 04:10 PMBy way of MMM, the sad and shocking tale of Miss Al-Qaeda on trial in New York City.
"You want a glimpse of the future that crime-coddling Eric Holder and the White House will be bringing up en masse?
"Right now, in New York City, jihad scientist Aafia Siddiqui is on trial."
Make sure you read the whole thing. View the links. And remember this:
"Two jurors were also let go after a man sitting in the courtroom pointed at them, used his finger as a gun to pretend to shoot them, and mouthed an obscenity.
"Reports the NYPost: ” The unidentified man in a white headdress was taken into custody but it was unclear if charges were filed following the incident in Manhattan federal court.”"
What, if anything, have we learned in the last eight years?? Send these people to Guantanamo, try them before military tribunals, and execute them.
:: Comments left behind ::
thinking like that will get US put in jail :(
:: mindy1 January 27, 2010 10:30 AMGive 1 example of the last lesson "execute" being learned. What was the recidivism rate among Guantanamo releases again?
:: AnotherOpinion January 27, 2010 12:29 PMAnotherO: It's pretty high, far higher than is reported in the open press. The lesson is easy-- if you attack America, you will die.
:: LtCol P January 27, 2010 07:15 PMSomeone wearing a lot of stars or bearing ambassadorial credentials needs to bitch-slap President Karzai over this horrendous mistake. If there ever was a time to call in some chips, this is it.
KABUL -- Afghanistan's election commission announced Sunday that it is postponing scheduled parliamentary elections from May until September, bowing to logistical concerns, worries about potential voting fraud and the likelihood that the U.S. troop "surge" will lead to intensified fighting in parts of the country. ...
Some in the international community, as well as visiting U.S. lawmakers, had questioned the wisdom of holding the elections in May. They said it would have proven a distraction for American and NATO troops tasked with providing security for the balloting at the same time they are trying to retake areas from the Taliban.
I get the concerns, trust me I do. However, I'm not at all sure that the conditions causing those concerns will be gone by the time September rolls around. What would lead us to believe that? There will be fraud in some places; there will be violence in some places; there will be delays in some places. But the country as a whole must forge ahead with elections. Not possessing a tradition of strong and transparent governmental institutions, they need to start building some.
I think this electoral postponement is a huge step backwards. What the Afghan people need to see is their government staying the course in the face of danger.
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Folks, a true patriot and great friend of Op-For, Gina Elise of Pinups for Vets, wrote in to remind us that the 2010 calendar is out, and that the proceeds from said calendar(s) get donated to all sorts of worthy veterans' causes.
From her press release:
January 22, 2010-Pin-Up-In-Chief Gina Elise, creator of the award-winning "Pin-Ups For Vets" Calendar fundraiser project, presented a $15,000.00 check to the Portland, OR VA Hospital to improve rehabilitation programs for Veterans. This was Elise's third donation to a VA or military hospital since she began her pin-up project in 2007.
That's right-- twelve months of hotness AND tens of thousands of bucks for our fellow soldiers, sailors, airmen and and Marines. So, what the hell are you waiting for?? Order NOW.
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Someone here found this article on the 18 Jan suicide attack in downtown Kabul, and it deserves a few comments.
Taliban militants struck at the heart of old Kabul Monday in a brazen and coordinated assault that brought the beleaguered capital of 3 million people to a fearful, paralyzing halt.
It was also another bloody nose inflicted on both the central government's tenuous regime and international security forces, underscoring the vulnerability of a country edging toward internal combustion - just as U.S. President Barack Obama tries to stiffen resolve at home and abroad that the military mission in Afghanistan can
succeed.
Yet eight years after the American-led invasion that toppled the Taliban, and with an additional 37,000 U.S. troops now being deployed, the paramilitary insurgents have shown yet again they can attack at will, even penetrating the heavily fortified urban core of Kabul, causing mayhem with just a small number of grenade-tossing fighters and
suicide bombers.
Madam, please pull the plug on the hyperbole generator. "Brazen," yes; "coordinated," to an extent. But it didn't bring the capital to a halt. Yes, some stuff stopped, but life resumed pretty quickly. Good Lord. Thanks for being the Taliban's IO organ, lady! (The casualty figures are also wrong, but in all fairness it was an early report.) And the city is NOT heavily fortified; there is a significant presence, but "fortified" it ain't. And the bottom line remains unchanged-- Taliban gunmen MURDERED Afghan citizens going about their daily business. That needs to be stated clearly.
Unfortunately, there is also this, with my comments in [brackets]:
Worrisome as well was the apparent failure of [some!] foreign soldiers to come to the front-line aid of Afghans under siege. NATO officials said they had played an "advisory" role to Afghan security forces that finally managed, after six hours, to repel the attack and restore a semblance of order. [Believe me, there were other, more willing foreign soldiers in the fight.]
Turkey has the lead role with the International Security Assistance Force in protection of Kabul. But an interpreter who works for the Turks in their HQ said commanders had refused to involve their soldiers. "The commander said, `These are internal issues and you people have to deal with it yourself,'" the translator, who asked that his name not be used, told the Star. "He said, `We don't want to be involved in the war.'"
Turks here boast to me that they can move throughout the city without fear of attack. I always reply, "Yes, that's because you're not viewed as a threat. You don't count." The Turks could be an enormous force for positive change here, but apparently it's not something that interests them. Sorry, but the truth is the truth. The fighting, as usual, is going to be left up to the real allies.
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I thought David Taylor’s project was dead. I put the possibility of a documentary out of my mind and continued my research for my Fallujah book. Then, to my amazement, Mr. Geoffrey Thorpe-Willett sent me an unsolicited email. He had been a free-lance video cameraman with an ABC news crew during Operation Phantom Fury. He asked me if I was interested in seeing the eleven hours of unedited footage he had taken in Fallujah.
I told him that I would very much like to see his footage, but there was a problem. Geoff lives in France and his recordings were in PAL format and were not compatible with American television sets. He told me that he only had the originals and offered to mail them to me if I promised to get them back to him. I did and he mailed me his only copies.
I had no way of viewing the European formatted tapes, so I started searching for someone who had the proper equipment. I found a television studio here in Orlando that wanted to charge me $50/tape (there were eleven tapes) to convert them to a format that I could view. However, during the process of getting the quote, I had the opportunity to scan the tapes. They were amazing!
I found a company in Chicago that offered to convert the tapes for about $150. I FedEx’d them the tapes and within two weeks I had them back with additional copies on disc that I could view. Then, David Taylor called.
He had found another source of funding and his documentary project was back on track. I told David about Geoff’s video. He was still intent on telling the story of the battle for Nasiriyah but as we got deeper into the project, we found that there was no High Definition video available from Nasiriyah—there was little or no video at all. Once David viewed Geoff’s video, he decided to redirect the focus of his documentary to Operation Phantom Fury.
He asked me to suggest stories that he could tell. I had already interviewed many participants of the fight in Fallujah, including Sergeant Jason Arellano who was the subject of much of Geoff’s filming. I introduced David to Jason, Lindsey, Jeremiah Workman, Dr. Richard Jadick, Kristine Knight, Todd Desgrosseilliers and LtGen Richard Natonski. Thus, many of the stories in Perfect Valor are pulled directly from the pages of New Dawn.
Lindsey and Jason Arellano, me, and LtCol Todd Desgrosseilliers
Perfect Valor premiered at the 2009 GI Film Festival and won the best full-length documentary film award for 2009. All the stars were there, LtCol Todd Desgrosseilliers, Lindsey and Jason Arellano, Dr. Richard Jadick and his wife, Kristine Knight, Dan Hodle, and Jeremiah Workman. It was a wonderful night, a night I will never forget.
You were introduced to Jason and Lindsey Arellano, Jeremiah Workman, Dr. Richard Jadick, Kristine Knight and Todd Desgrosseilliers in Perfect Valor. All of their stories are told in full in New Dawn. As an example, Jeremiah Workman fought in a house full of insurgents for about thirty minutes. But, Todd Desgrosseilliers fought with these insurgents for six hours. New Dawn tells the entire story of the enemy’s last stand within the city. Perfect Valor tells the riveting story of Jason Arellano being nearly killed in another insurgent-filled house, but does not tell the story of the most disastrous fight for Arellano’s battalion—for the Marines—in Fallujah. Five Marines were killed in that fight and dozens wounded. New Dawn tells the complete story. New Dawn also introduces you to LtGen Richard Natonski, a true gentleman and fearless Marine commander.
If you enjoyed Perfect Valor, you will want to read New Dawn: the Battles for Fallujah.
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Just for future reference, you can buy a player from almost any outlet that will play pal on a nstc system. Cost about 29.00
This is assuming they are vhs tapes. Good luck!
Thanks Tom.
Richard
:: Richard S. Lowry January 22, 2010 09:42 AM