Merry Christmas and thank you to everyone that has, and will visit this site. I have not added much in the last 18 months. That is partly because my friend that was writing the book about 2/4 in 1967 had to drop everything to take care of his mother who has recently passed after a long battle with cancer. Hopefully, he will get things settled soon and get back to work on the book. Another reason is me. I have spent the last two years jumping through the hoops for the VA. I am now rated at 100%, 70% of which is PTSD.I now invite anyone from the military who has PTSD to email me with your comments and questions which I will answer as best I can. Please leave off the profanity or they will not be posted.
We are approaching 10,000 visitors to this blog. That is success beyond my wildest imagination.I have connected with many from 2/4 and other units.Some say that I have helped them, but the truth is that each one I helped also helped me.To each of these (you know who you are) and to all my visitors, THANK YOU!
I now dedicate this blog to my friend, Richard Janigian and all the others we lost on 9/21/67 and the Battle of Bastards Bridge in Oct. 67. Named after 2nd Bn. 4th Marines, "The Magnificent Bastards".
God Bless You All,
Merry Christmas
And Happy New Year.
Semper Fidelis,
Bill Sellers
21 December 2010
10 November 2010
An Untold Story from 1983
A really great story about Marines at their very best - from a Marine who was there - via another Marine and good friend.
We are all brothers and today is a very good day to remember that.
Enjoy!
Jeff
I wrote this email to a fellow Marine in October of 1998. I have sent it out on every Veterans Day since then. I thought you may like to read it and reflect a bit on the sacrifices made by our veterans in order to preserve our way of life.
Semper Fidelis,
----------------------------------------------------------Original Message------------------------------------------------------------------
Tom,
I was at Camp Lejeune, N.C. on Thursday for business. Every time I go down there I stop at the Beirut Memorial to pay my respects to the Marines who were killed in Lebanon. I always go there very early in the morning so I am sure to be alone as I visit the Memorial.
The Beirut operation was and still is largely a mystery to most people. It was simply not discussed among Marines like previous or subsequent Marine Corps operations were. Most folks believe that only the 241 Marines and sailors who were killed in the BLT HQ blast are listed on the wall. Not true, there are a few dozen more that were killed in firefights and by shelling both before and after the BLT tragedy. Many more Marines survived to wear Purple Hearts for gunshot and shrapnel wounds received in Beirut. This fact is relatively unknown by most people, Marines included.
There is a friend and TBS/IOC classmate of mine, 2nd Lt. George Losey, listed on the wall. George and his platoon sergeant were both killed during a mortar and artillery attack at the Beirut airport in August of 1983. I went to his funeral and was greatly affected by it. It was especially heartbreaking to see George's grandfather grieve at the sight of his grandson as he lay dead at such a tender age. One can only imagine what he was thinking. It was one of the saddest scenes I have ever witnessed.
Also listed is Sgt Manuel Cox, a squad leader in Golf Co., 2/8. Sgt Cox was an immigrant from somewhere in South America. He came to the battalion from what is now the School of Infantry where he was a very popular instructor. All of the young Marines in the battalion knew him from the school and were simply in awe of him.
Sgt Cox and his squad were put on an isolated Observation Post west of the Beirut airport. Our battalion’s (2/8) first big scrap in Beirut took place in early December of 1983. It lasted about three hours, on and off. The local Shiite militia apparently decided it was time to see what the new Marine unit had in the way of testosterone. They found out rather quickly that the rules had changed. The battalion shot everything; small arms, artillery, mortars, tank main gun rounds, and even TOW and Dragon missiles (normally used against armored vehicles, they proved to be very effective when shot at enemy gunners in distant buildings!).
I received a radio message from the airport informing me that they were engaged in a pitched fire-fight and warning me to be alert for attacks on my position, which was isolated several miles away in a very bad sector of West Beirut. I tuned a couple of spare radios to the frequencies used by Sgt Cox’s company and the Battalion Command Posts. For the next few hours, I sat in the dark on the roof of a building and listened to Marines I knew fight for their lives. It was evident from the radio traffic that Sgt Cox's position was really catching hell. Judging by the ferocity of the attack on his observation post, I believe the Shiites wanted to kill everyone there and take the weapons, ammo, etc., for their own use.
During the entire fire-fight Sgt Cox conducted himself in a manner that was simply awesome. The entire airport could hear him on the radio talking back to his Company CP. He called for and adjusted artillery fire, mortars, gave fire commands to his gunners; the whole deal. Sgt Cox and his Marines fought like hell that night. I have no doubt that they inflicted heavy casualties among their attackers. Someone had about an hour of the radio traffic on a tape recording. I always thought that they should have sent the tape to Squad Leader School and The Basic School, where the instructors could tell the students, "OK, listen to this. Here's how Marines should be led while in combat!”
As luck would have it, the last enemy mortar round of the night hit the roof of the building that Sgt Cox was on. It killed him and seven other Marines. Some of the M-203 gunners were wearing grenade vests and their extra rounds detonated. The rooftop position had been turned into a scene of utter carnage. The Company CP sent a lone, incredibly brave Marine, L/CPL Clayburn, down to Sgt. Cox’s position to assess the situation. He crawled about 300 meters on his belly as the Shiites attempted to shoot him. They actually shot through one of the canteens on his cartridge belt; he was very lucky not to take a round in his body. He got to Sgt Cox’s position, saw the gore and left in a panic for the Company Command Post. When he arrived back at the Company CP his Lieutenant asked, "Clayburn, did you remember to bring back the crypto gear?” He had not and the look on his face said it all. There was no way he wanted to have to make another trip to Sgt Cox’s position. The Lieutenant said, "Let's go back and get it". They both departed for Sgt. Cox’s position and it was the same shooting gallery as L/CPL Clayburn’s first trip.
When they reached Sgt Cox’s position, the Lieutenant, by his own admission, was badly shaken by what he saw. The dead Marines were in really bad shape; none remained in one entire piece. The Lieutenant found Sgt Cox’s body. The last time he had seen Sgt Cox two days prior he was passing out cigars celebrating the birth of his child. He respected and admired Sgt Cox and the loss of this fine Marine greatly affected him.
Whenever I look at Sgt Cox’s name on the wall of the Beirut Memorial I always think about the devastated family he left behind. He was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star Medal for Valor. Throughout the remainder of my career, whenever I heard the term NCO or Squad Leader or Marine Sergeant, I always thought of Sgt Cox as the standard to measure everyone else by. What a Marine. What a loss.
The hardest name to look at is that of Edward J. Gargano. He was a Corporal assigned to the Dragons platoon. He had been assigned to support my company in the Grenada operation and had moved with my platoon at times.
In January of 1984, Corporal Gargano was told to bring up a squad of Marines from the airport to the temporary U.S. Embassy site where my platoon was. The helicopter landing zone was a large parking lot on the Mediterranean coast. Though it was not an ideal landing zone, we used it on and off because we had no other alternatives. It was located in a very dangerous West Beirut neighborhood, so we went loaded for bear every time we went down there.
The first helo landed on that fateful day and the Marines ran out and took cover behind a stone wall at the edge of the LZ. As the second helo touched down all hell broke loose. I was on top of a building and saw several RPG's streaking by the helicopters, heard the sound of automatic weapons fire and saw green and red tracers zipping around in every direction. Most of my positions were under small arms fire and I could tell that the Marines were returning the same.
A Marine next to me pointed at the LZ and said, “Sir, look!” I saw a Marine laid out in the open. I could see that bullets were hitting all around him. I then saw a Marine run about 75 yards to the wounded man. As he ran the enemy fire increased in volume and I saw bullets hitting the ground inches behind him. I could see tracers flying all around him. It was exactly like those war movies we watched as kids where the good guy always seems to outrun the bullets. The Marine reached down and scooped up the wounded man in one motion and started back to safety. Once again tracers were zipping around everywhere. I saw shrubbery and tree branches falling next to the LZ as bullets cut them away as the enemy tried to hit the Marines as they returned to a safe position.
Amazingly, PFC Gorham (the rescuer) was not hit during his heroic run to retrieve his wounded buddy, nor was Cpl Gargano. Cpl Gargano, however, had been hit earlier by a bullet (7.62). PFC Gorham was running the show at this point and he called me for a MedEvac helo and remembered to request that it go to another landing zone that was down the road a bit and not in the line of fire. His presence of mind and coolness under fire will remain with me for as long as I live. He was just a kid, maybe a year out of high school. But on that day, his actions were those from which legends are made!
I would estimate that the entire rescue of the Cpl Gargano took perhaps less than two minutes, but I remember it like a slow motion NFL highlight film. No matter how many times I recall this event, it always plays in my mind in the same exact slow motion manner.
By the time I linked up with Cpl Gargano he was unconscious and was probably already dead. As we worked on him trying to get him breathing via CPR, massive amounts of blood came out of his mouth and nose with each thrust of the Doc’s hands; it was obvious that the bullet had hit his heart or aorta. I think we all knew what the deal was, but the Doc and other Marines continued to at least try to do something.
The tactical situation faded quickly and quiet returned to the area. The radios were booming with traffic as we tried to assess if there were any other casualties. The Doc came over and told me that Corporal Gargano was dead. I had the radio-man call the Battalion CP and change the MedEvac from priority to routine, as I did not want to cause the MedEvac helo to risk flying into a hot LZ now that there was no chance of saving his life.
Evidently the MEU staff was getting micro-managed from Washington and they wanted specifics about where Corporal Gargano had been hit. I went back to Cpl Gargano to verify the specific location of his wound. I was alone at this point with his body and I lifted his shirt up and had to roll him over to get to the wound. Sure enough, just below his right armpit there was a jagged hole about as big as a dime, with no exit wound. As I moved him I could hear blood sloshing around inside his lungs and stomach; the bullet must have really torn things up inside of him.
To this day I remember how young and fresh faced he looked. He looked so peaceful, as if he was asleep. I had done a lot of thinking since the October 23rd suicide truck bombing of the BLT Headquarters and had read the stories about all of the shattered families back home. I thought of Corporal Gargano’s parents back in the states and could only imagine what this was going to do to them.
The only thing that I could think of to do was to reach down and give his face the caress that his mother would never be able to. I said a prayer, returned to my Marines and did my best to look composed and give them the direction they desperately needed. I don't know how well I pulled it off, but inside, my heart was aching with sadness.
A week later Newsweek magazine ran a short story on Cpl Gargano's death. The article contained a recruit picture of him in his Dress Blue uniform. I saved that article and for the rest of my career I kept it in my office. I would put it in a spot that caused me to look at it at least once a day. It always helped me keep things in perspective and to remember just how ugly our profession can be. Occasionally, other Marines would see me looking at the picture and they would ask me about it. I used to tell them that the picture reminded me of why I was a Marine and of the great responsibility I had to the parents and families of the Marines entrusted to me.
Rarely does a day go by that I do not think of that event. For better or worse, it shaped a great deal of who I was as a Marine and how I approached my role as a leader of the finest men I have ever known. Sorry to ramble so, Tom. The month of October always brings back memories of those days.
Semper Fi,
Mike
We are all brothers and today is a very good day to remember that.
Enjoy!
Jeff
I wrote this email to a fellow Marine in October of 1998. I have sent it out on every Veterans Day since then. I thought you may like to read it and reflect a bit on the sacrifices made by our veterans in order to preserve our way of life.
Semper Fidelis,
----------------------------------------------------------Original Message------------------------------------------------------------------
Tom,
I was at Camp Lejeune, N.C. on Thursday for business. Every time I go down there I stop at the Beirut Memorial to pay my respects to the Marines who were killed in Lebanon. I always go there very early in the morning so I am sure to be alone as I visit the Memorial.
The Beirut operation was and still is largely a mystery to most people. It was simply not discussed among Marines like previous or subsequent Marine Corps operations were. Most folks believe that only the 241 Marines and sailors who were killed in the BLT HQ blast are listed on the wall. Not true, there are a few dozen more that were killed in firefights and by shelling both before and after the BLT tragedy. Many more Marines survived to wear Purple Hearts for gunshot and shrapnel wounds received in Beirut. This fact is relatively unknown by most people, Marines included.
There is a friend and TBS/IOC classmate of mine, 2nd Lt. George Losey, listed on the wall. George and his platoon sergeant were both killed during a mortar and artillery attack at the Beirut airport in August of 1983. I went to his funeral and was greatly affected by it. It was especially heartbreaking to see George's grandfather grieve at the sight of his grandson as he lay dead at such a tender age. One can only imagine what he was thinking. It was one of the saddest scenes I have ever witnessed.
Also listed is Sgt Manuel Cox, a squad leader in Golf Co., 2/8. Sgt Cox was an immigrant from somewhere in South America. He came to the battalion from what is now the School of Infantry where he was a very popular instructor. All of the young Marines in the battalion knew him from the school and were simply in awe of him.
Sgt Cox and his squad were put on an isolated Observation Post west of the Beirut airport. Our battalion’s (2/8) first big scrap in Beirut took place in early December of 1983. It lasted about three hours, on and off. The local Shiite militia apparently decided it was time to see what the new Marine unit had in the way of testosterone. They found out rather quickly that the rules had changed. The battalion shot everything; small arms, artillery, mortars, tank main gun rounds, and even TOW and Dragon missiles (normally used against armored vehicles, they proved to be very effective when shot at enemy gunners in distant buildings!).
I received a radio message from the airport informing me that they were engaged in a pitched fire-fight and warning me to be alert for attacks on my position, which was isolated several miles away in a very bad sector of West Beirut. I tuned a couple of spare radios to the frequencies used by Sgt Cox’s company and the Battalion Command Posts. For the next few hours, I sat in the dark on the roof of a building and listened to Marines I knew fight for their lives. It was evident from the radio traffic that Sgt Cox's position was really catching hell. Judging by the ferocity of the attack on his observation post, I believe the Shiites wanted to kill everyone there and take the weapons, ammo, etc., for their own use.
During the entire fire-fight Sgt Cox conducted himself in a manner that was simply awesome. The entire airport could hear him on the radio talking back to his Company CP. He called for and adjusted artillery fire, mortars, gave fire commands to his gunners; the whole deal. Sgt Cox and his Marines fought like hell that night. I have no doubt that they inflicted heavy casualties among their attackers. Someone had about an hour of the radio traffic on a tape recording. I always thought that they should have sent the tape to Squad Leader School and The Basic School, where the instructors could tell the students, "OK, listen to this. Here's how Marines should be led while in combat!”
As luck would have it, the last enemy mortar round of the night hit the roof of the building that Sgt Cox was on. It killed him and seven other Marines. Some of the M-203 gunners were wearing grenade vests and their extra rounds detonated. The rooftop position had been turned into a scene of utter carnage. The Company CP sent a lone, incredibly brave Marine, L/CPL Clayburn, down to Sgt. Cox’s position to assess the situation. He crawled about 300 meters on his belly as the Shiites attempted to shoot him. They actually shot through one of the canteens on his cartridge belt; he was very lucky not to take a round in his body. He got to Sgt Cox’s position, saw the gore and left in a panic for the Company Command Post. When he arrived back at the Company CP his Lieutenant asked, "Clayburn, did you remember to bring back the crypto gear?” He had not and the look on his face said it all. There was no way he wanted to have to make another trip to Sgt Cox’s position. The Lieutenant said, "Let's go back and get it". They both departed for Sgt. Cox’s position and it was the same shooting gallery as L/CPL Clayburn’s first trip.
When they reached Sgt Cox’s position, the Lieutenant, by his own admission, was badly shaken by what he saw. The dead Marines were in really bad shape; none remained in one entire piece. The Lieutenant found Sgt Cox’s body. The last time he had seen Sgt Cox two days prior he was passing out cigars celebrating the birth of his child. He respected and admired Sgt Cox and the loss of this fine Marine greatly affected him.
Whenever I look at Sgt Cox’s name on the wall of the Beirut Memorial I always think about the devastated family he left behind. He was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star Medal for Valor. Throughout the remainder of my career, whenever I heard the term NCO or Squad Leader or Marine Sergeant, I always thought of Sgt Cox as the standard to measure everyone else by. What a Marine. What a loss.
The hardest name to look at is that of Edward J. Gargano. He was a Corporal assigned to the Dragons platoon. He had been assigned to support my company in the Grenada operation and had moved with my platoon at times.
In January of 1984, Corporal Gargano was told to bring up a squad of Marines from the airport to the temporary U.S. Embassy site where my platoon was. The helicopter landing zone was a large parking lot on the Mediterranean coast. Though it was not an ideal landing zone, we used it on and off because we had no other alternatives. It was located in a very dangerous West Beirut neighborhood, so we went loaded for bear every time we went down there.
The first helo landed on that fateful day and the Marines ran out and took cover behind a stone wall at the edge of the LZ. As the second helo touched down all hell broke loose. I was on top of a building and saw several RPG's streaking by the helicopters, heard the sound of automatic weapons fire and saw green and red tracers zipping around in every direction. Most of my positions were under small arms fire and I could tell that the Marines were returning the same.
A Marine next to me pointed at the LZ and said, “Sir, look!” I saw a Marine laid out in the open. I could see that bullets were hitting all around him. I then saw a Marine run about 75 yards to the wounded man. As he ran the enemy fire increased in volume and I saw bullets hitting the ground inches behind him. I could see tracers flying all around him. It was exactly like those war movies we watched as kids where the good guy always seems to outrun the bullets. The Marine reached down and scooped up the wounded man in one motion and started back to safety. Once again tracers were zipping around everywhere. I saw shrubbery and tree branches falling next to the LZ as bullets cut them away as the enemy tried to hit the Marines as they returned to a safe position.
Amazingly, PFC Gorham (the rescuer) was not hit during his heroic run to retrieve his wounded buddy, nor was Cpl Gargano. Cpl Gargano, however, had been hit earlier by a bullet (7.62). PFC Gorham was running the show at this point and he called me for a MedEvac helo and remembered to request that it go to another landing zone that was down the road a bit and not in the line of fire. His presence of mind and coolness under fire will remain with me for as long as I live. He was just a kid, maybe a year out of high school. But on that day, his actions were those from which legends are made!
I would estimate that the entire rescue of the Cpl Gargano took perhaps less than two minutes, but I remember it like a slow motion NFL highlight film. No matter how many times I recall this event, it always plays in my mind in the same exact slow motion manner.
By the time I linked up with Cpl Gargano he was unconscious and was probably already dead. As we worked on him trying to get him breathing via CPR, massive amounts of blood came out of his mouth and nose with each thrust of the Doc’s hands; it was obvious that the bullet had hit his heart or aorta. I think we all knew what the deal was, but the Doc and other Marines continued to at least try to do something.
The tactical situation faded quickly and quiet returned to the area. The radios were booming with traffic as we tried to assess if there were any other casualties. The Doc came over and told me that Corporal Gargano was dead. I had the radio-man call the Battalion CP and change the MedEvac from priority to routine, as I did not want to cause the MedEvac helo to risk flying into a hot LZ now that there was no chance of saving his life.
Evidently the MEU staff was getting micro-managed from Washington and they wanted specifics about where Corporal Gargano had been hit. I went back to Cpl Gargano to verify the specific location of his wound. I was alone at this point with his body and I lifted his shirt up and had to roll him over to get to the wound. Sure enough, just below his right armpit there was a jagged hole about as big as a dime, with no exit wound. As I moved him I could hear blood sloshing around inside his lungs and stomach; the bullet must have really torn things up inside of him.
To this day I remember how young and fresh faced he looked. He looked so peaceful, as if he was asleep. I had done a lot of thinking since the October 23rd suicide truck bombing of the BLT Headquarters and had read the stories about all of the shattered families back home. I thought of Corporal Gargano’s parents back in the states and could only imagine what this was going to do to them.
The only thing that I could think of to do was to reach down and give his face the caress that his mother would never be able to. I said a prayer, returned to my Marines and did my best to look composed and give them the direction they desperately needed. I don't know how well I pulled it off, but inside, my heart was aching with sadness.
A week later Newsweek magazine ran a short story on Cpl Gargano's death. The article contained a recruit picture of him in his Dress Blue uniform. I saved that article and for the rest of my career I kept it in my office. I would put it in a spot that caused me to look at it at least once a day. It always helped me keep things in perspective and to remember just how ugly our profession can be. Occasionally, other Marines would see me looking at the picture and they would ask me about it. I used to tell them that the picture reminded me of why I was a Marine and of the great responsibility I had to the parents and families of the Marines entrusted to me.
Rarely does a day go by that I do not think of that event. For better or worse, it shaped a great deal of who I was as a Marine and how I approached my role as a leader of the finest men I have ever known. Sorry to ramble so, Tom. The month of October always brings back memories of those days.
Semper Fi,
Mike
02 December 2009
Thank You Vietnam Vets
Date: Thursday, November 19, 2009, 8:01 PM
A Thank You to Vietnam Vets from a Marine in Iraq
A guy gets time to think over here and I was thinking about all the support we get from home. Sometimes it's overwhelming. We get care packages at times faster than we can use them. There are boxes and boxes of toiletries and snacks lining the center of every tent; the generosity has been amazing. So, I was pondering the question: "Why do we have so much support?"
In my opinion, it came down to one thing: Vietnam. I think we learned a lesson, as a nation, that no matter what, you have to support the troops who are on the line, who are risking everything. We treated them so poorly back then. When they returned was even worse. The stories are nightmarish of what our returning warriors were subjected to. It is a national scar, a blemish on our country, an embarrassment to all of us
.
After Vietnam, it had time to sink in. The guilt in our collective consciousness grew. It shamed us. However, we learned from our mistake.
Somewhere during the late 1970's and into the 80's, we realized that we can't treat our warriors that way. So, starting during the Gulf War, when the first real opportunity arose to stand up and support the troops, we did. We did it to support our friends and family going off to war. But we also did it to right the wrongs from the Vietnam era. We treated our troops like the heroes they were, acknowledged and celebrated their sacrifice, and rejoiced at their homecoming instead of spitting on them.
And that support continues today for those of us in Iraq. Our country knows that it must support us and it does. The lesson was learned in Vietnam and we are better because of it.
Everyone who has gone before is a hero. They are celebrated in my heart. I think admirably of all those who have gone before me. From those who fought to establish this country in the late 1770's to those I serve with here in Iraq. They have all sacrificed to ensure our freedom.
But when I get back, I'm going to make it a personal mission to specifically thank every Vietnam Vet I encounter for their sacrifice. Because if nothing else good came from that terrible war, one thing did. It was the lesson learned on how we treat our warriors. We as a country learned from our mistake and now treat our warriors as heroes, as we should.
I am the beneficiary of their sacrifice. Not only for the freedom they, like veterans from other wars, ensured, but for how well our country now treats my fellow Marines and I. We are the beneficiaries of their sacrifice.
Semper Fidelis,
Major Brian P. Bresnahan
United States Marine Corps
11 November 2009
Happy Birthday Marines
Happy 234th Birthday to the Marines
by Bob Hamer
Earlier this year as I was filling up at the gas station I noticed a faded bumper sticker- vintage Bush 43-on the car next to me: “Dissent is Patriotic.” When I pointed to the bumper and asked the driver if she still believed that, she suggested I do something to myself which I am certain is physically impossible. I just laughed and said, “I’ll take that as a no.”
At the time, our Marine son and his men were deployed to a remote Forward Operating Base in Afghanistan. As I reflected on my experience at the Shell station, I wondered if this woman had any idea the sacrifices so many had made so she could exercise her 1stAmendment rights during the previous administration or this one.
My wife and I recently spent a week on the Marine Corps base where our son is stationed. As we walked up and down the residential street where he and his family live we realized almost half of the homes had husbands deployed to a combat zone. The other half had spouses who recently returned or were about to leave. It was humbling to see parking lots with so many cars displaying Purple Heart license plates or seeing the injured frequenting the PX. Did the woman know about these recent sacrifices?
Last week while I was working out at the gym and wearing a Marine Corps t-shirt, a young man approached. I could tell he had sustained recent injuries. This twenty-five year old medically retired Marine Corps Staff Sergeant was wounded in Iraq and only recently was able to abandon the wheel chair. His knee was still so full of shrapnel he needed a total knee replacement. He will forever live with the scars on his face but his sacrifice was even more personal. His brother, a Marine, was killed five miles from where my new friend was injured. His younger brother just enlisted. I can’t imagine what his family has been through. Yet he was so proud of his brother who died and the one about to carry the title “Marine.” Did the woman at the gas station know my friend and his family?
In AMERICAN PATRIOT by Robert Coram, Medal of Honor recipient Colonel Bud Day is quoted as saying “It is not a widely known fact, but military people are weepers. They weep when they watch a parade and the flag goes by. They weep when they hear the National Anthem. They weep at tales of valor and sacrifice.” When I read that, a sense of relief washed over me. If maybe the most valiant man I ever met can weep then I guess it’s okay for me to admit shedding a tear. I’ve shot guys and never flinched but tales of valor and the sacrifices I have seen by my military heroes and their families choke me up every time. I wonder if the woman at Shell ever cries and if so, for whom or for what?
My vehicle has only one decal…a scarlet and gold U.S.M.C. on the rear window. I’ll often have someone pull up next to me at a light and nod knowingly. I only spent four years on active duty as a somewhat marginal Marine yet after a twenty-six year career in the FBI, many of those years undercover, I’m prouder to say I was a Marine than to say I was an FBI agent. Although only a small portion of my life was in the Corps, I am forever part of a brotherhood of warriors.
Today, November 10th, a date known by every Marine, marks the 234th birthday of the United States Marine Corps. Tomorrow is Veteran’s Day, a chance to remember all who served. Maybe you can say thanks in a tangible way this year by supporting the USO,Freedom Alliance, Iraq Star, Operation Gratitude, Hope for the Warriors, or any number of charities serving our servicemen and women who have earned our respect and admiration with their shed blood.
“When I give you the word, together we will cross the Line of Departure, close with those forces that choose to fight, and destroy them. You are part of the world’s most feared and trusted force. Engage your brain before you engage your weapon. Share your courage with each other as we enter the uncertain terrain north of the Line of Departure. Keep faith in your comrades on your left and right and Marine Air overhead. Fight with a happy heart and strong spirit. For the Mission’s sake, our country’s sake, and the sake of the men who carried the Division’s colors in past battles – who fought for life and never lost their nerve – carry out your mission and keep your honor clean. Demonstrate to the world there is No Better Friend, No Worse Enemy than a U.S. Marine.”
– Major General James N. Mattis. Commander, 1st Marine Division, March 30, 2003, on the eve of crossing into Iraq
Happy Birthday Marines and Semper Fi!
Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
- Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 - 1918)
23 October 2009
Bigger Than Ourselves
There is no "me" in team. None of us living today who participated in that war made it out of Vietnam on our own. None of you living today will make it through your trials, your battles on your own. "We" won the war. "We" never lost a battle, and "We" never left any of our own on the battlefield. The word "We" gives me the priviledge of always being able to remain a part of something larger than myself. "We" by it's inclusiveness, makes me immortal because being part of "We", the United States Marine Corps, makes me a part of history.
Semper Fidelis
Bill
Used by permission of Alvin L. Simpson, from his book "Distant Shore: A Memoir".
Semper Fidelis
Bill
Used by permission of Alvin L. Simpson, from his book "Distant Shore: A Memoir".
25 May 2009
Memorial Day 2009
I have been trying to find the words to express how I feel this memorial day but words fail me.
Fortunately, I received a memorial day message that says it better than I can and I would like to share it with everyone. Have a blessed Memorial Day!
.
We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
Fortunately, I received a memorial day message that says it better than I can and I would like to share it with everyone. Have a blessed Memorial Day!
.
We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
Good morning,
Decoration Day, a day for remembering and honoring those who gave their lives for our country. I believe it should be a day to remember all who served instead. It's only been in the past few years that I realized although you came home in body, you lost a big part of yourself, and you go back, looking for answers, that lost part of yourself, almost every day.
I found this poem yesterday, and I thought of you. There are still a few Americans who appreciate what you did to earn and preserve our precious freedom.
I can't begin to understand your sleepless nights, your nightmares, your unending guilt that you "could have", "should have", and "would have" done more. I only know it cost each of you and those who love you--you came home "different".
I know for anyone who went to war, it is never over and you never return completely. I'm sorry for that. I can only see you from the outside, know what you tell those you love, those who love you back.
I see the most when you talk to each other and I can just sit in the corner and listen. I wish I could take away the pain, the survivor guilt, the anger that comes sometimes. I'm not powerful enough to do that, nor are you. You can only do the best you can to make sense of it, to know it wasn't your choice to come home when others didn't. And it came with a price, a big one for some of you.
On this decoration day, so many years later, it would seem those pieces of yourself you left behind or walled off from the world are starting to find sunlight again. It would seem that there has been a significant healing of your wounds. I hope each day will be better for you.
You will never forget the valor of those with whom you served. They were never forgotten and never will be. Along with what you lost, I hope you gained. You have friendships, a "connection" with each other than the rest of us will never know. You have an appreciation for waking up each morning that is different. I've heard you talk about not knowing if morning will come; looking out and knowing for a lot of those aound you, morning didn't come.
Thank you for serving, for fighting for this country....for giving so much of yourself for people like me. I wish every day that it is a good day for you, that you find a little more pleasure, a little more peace.
I know you will never forget, I just wanted you to know that I will never forget either; I will think of you each day, hoping it is a good day for you, being grateful for the gift you gave our nation. You are a hero to me.
Thank you.
P H Hauser
P H Hauser
22 January 2009
Col. James W. Hammond
It is said that the Marine Corps is made up of a few good men. Over the years Second Battalion 4th marines lost lots of good men. And now, we have lost a very special good man,our Battalion Commander in 1967, Colonel James W. Hammond. And now some of his accomplishments as written by his son.
Wes Hammond, a 1951 graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, retired from the U.S. Marine Corps in 1975. In addition to a B.S. from the Naval Academy, he has a M.A. (International Law) from the Catholic University of America and M.A. (Journalism) from the University of Nevada.
During more than a quarter of a century of active duty, he served in a wide variety of command and staff billets around the globe. He was wounded in action as an infantry platoon leader in Korea (1st Bn, 5th Mar). He was twice a tactics instructor at the Marine Corps School in Quantico, VA; commanded a company in an infantry battalion afloat in the Mediterranean (B Co, 1st Bn, 6th Mar); served as the S-3 of 1st Battalion, 5th Marines at Camp Pendleton during initial experimentation with vertical envelopment operations; and was aide-de-camp to MajGen D.M. Shoup (later 22nd Commandant of the Marine Corps) on Okinawa, where he met and married Miss Donna M. Selby of Brighton, Colorado. He deployed with the 10th Marines, 2nd Marine Division of the Cuban Missile Crisis (as the regimental communications officers). While with the artillery, he also served as a battery commander and the battalion XO (4th Bn, 10th Mar). He commanded the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines (“The Magnificent Bastards”) in Vietnam until wounded in action and evacuated. He returned to duty as Plans Officer of the 3rd Marine Division until wounded again, finishing his tour as the division liaison officer, Provisional Corps Vietnam. Upon return to the United States, he was Head, Command Department, Marine Corps Command & Staff College in Quantico. There he taught Research and Writing, Command & Staff Organization, and a future concept of amphibious operations called “Sea Base.” He was transferred to Hawaii, promoted to colonel and assigned as Protocol Officer and Aide to Commander-in-Chief, Pacific, Admiral John S. McCain, Jr. USN. He retired from Camp Pendleton, California and returned to Reno, Nevada.
While on active duty he was Editor & Publisher (1964-67) of the Marine Corps Gazette, the professional journal of the Marine Corps Association. Eight years after retiring from the Marine Corps, he moved to Annapolis, Md., to be editor of Shipmate, the monthly magazine of the U.S. Naval Academy Alumni Association. After a dozen years there, he retired and returned to Reno.
He is the author of more than 50 articles in professional military journals as well as popular publications and newspapers. His Poison Gas – The Myths Versus Reality (Greenwood Press, Westport, Conn., 1999) is a plea for common sense lest we be held hostage to fear of the unknown. His The Treaty Navy – The Story of the U.S. Naval Service Between the World Wars, (Wesley Press, Reno, Nevada, 2001) describes how the innovative thinking and the developments in the 1920s and 1930s spawned the victory in the Pacific in the 1940s. His first venture into fiction was A Few Marines (Wesley Press, Reno, Nevada, 2005). It is collection of short “sea stories” that could have happened and maybe did. The second in this series, A Few More Marines (Wesley Press, Reno, Nevada) was published in 2008.
The Hammonds make their home in Reno but travel extensively including an annual trip to Annapolis during football season. They have three children and seven grandchildren.
Wes Hammond, a 1951 graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, retired from the U.S. Marine Corps in 1975. In addition to a B.S. from the Naval Academy, he has a M.A. (International Law) from the Catholic University of America and M.A. (Journalism) from the University of Nevada.
During more than a quarter of a century of active duty, he served in a wide variety of command and staff billets around the globe. He was wounded in action as an infantry platoon leader in Korea (1st Bn, 5th Mar). He was twice a tactics instructor at the Marine Corps School in Quantico, VA; commanded a company in an infantry battalion afloat in the Mediterranean (B Co, 1st Bn, 6th Mar); served as the S-3 of 1st Battalion, 5th Marines at Camp Pendleton during initial experimentation with vertical envelopment operations; and was aide-de-camp to MajGen D.M. Shoup (later 22nd Commandant of the Marine Corps) on Okinawa, where he met and married Miss Donna M. Selby of Brighton, Colorado. He deployed with the 10th Marines, 2nd Marine Division of the Cuban Missile Crisis (as the regimental communications officers). While with the artillery, he also served as a battery commander and the battalion XO (4th Bn, 10th Mar). He commanded the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines (“The Magnificent Bastards”) in Vietnam until wounded in action and evacuated. He returned to duty as Plans Officer of the 3rd Marine Division until wounded again, finishing his tour as the division liaison officer, Provisional Corps Vietnam. Upon return to the United States, he was Head, Command Department, Marine Corps Command & Staff College in Quantico. There he taught Research and Writing, Command & Staff Organization, and a future concept of amphibious operations called “Sea Base.” He was transferred to Hawaii, promoted to colonel and assigned as Protocol Officer and Aide to Commander-in-Chief, Pacific, Admiral John S. McCain, Jr. USN. He retired from Camp Pendleton, California and returned to Reno, Nevada.
While on active duty he was Editor & Publisher (1964-67) of the Marine Corps Gazette, the professional journal of the Marine Corps Association. Eight years after retiring from the Marine Corps, he moved to Annapolis, Md., to be editor of Shipmate, the monthly magazine of the U.S. Naval Academy Alumni Association. After a dozen years there, he retired and returned to Reno.
He is the author of more than 50 articles in professional military journals as well as popular publications and newspapers. His Poison Gas – The Myths Versus Reality (Greenwood Press, Westport, Conn., 1999) is a plea for common sense lest we be held hostage to fear of the unknown. His The Treaty Navy – The Story of the U.S. Naval Service Between the World Wars, (Wesley Press, Reno, Nevada, 2001) describes how the innovative thinking and the developments in the 1920s and 1930s spawned the victory in the Pacific in the 1940s. His first venture into fiction was A Few Marines (Wesley Press, Reno, Nevada, 2005). It is collection of short “sea stories” that could have happened and maybe did. The second in this series, A Few More Marines (Wesley Press, Reno, Nevada) was published in 2008.
The Hammonds make their home in Reno but travel extensively including an annual trip to Annapolis during football season. They have three children and seven grandchildren.
11 December 2008
A Different Christmas Poem
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
" So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
" So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."
10 December 2008
The Sands Of Christmas
I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh,
and looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.
The laundry wasn't finished and the car I had to fix,
My stocks were down another point,
the Dolphins lost by six.
And so with only minutes till my son got home from school,
I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,
and so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.
I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,
No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.
And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,
eight hummers ran a column right behind an M1A.
A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens,
Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.
They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight, their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.
Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,
To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.
There wasn't much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease,
They had noChristmas turkey, just a pack of MRE's.
They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see,
They didn't need an ornament-- they lacked a Christmas Tree.
They didn't have a present even though it was tradition,
The only boxes I could see were labeled "ammunition".
I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,
He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.
I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near
and kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.
There's nothing wrong, my little son, for safe we sleep tonight,
our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,
to worry about the things in life that really mean nothing at all,
instead of wondering each day if we will be the next to fall.
He looked at me as children do and said it's always right,
to thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write.
And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,
to thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote,
God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home. Remember that we love you so, and that you're not alone.
The gift you give, you share with all, a present every day,
You give the gift of liberty and that we can't repay.
and looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.
The laundry wasn't finished and the car I had to fix,
My stocks were down another point,
the Dolphins lost by six.
And so with only minutes till my son got home from school,
I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,
and so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.
I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,
No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.
And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,
eight hummers ran a column right behind an M1A.
A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens,
Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.
They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight, their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.
Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,
To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.
There wasn't much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease,
They had noChristmas turkey, just a pack of MRE's.
They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see,
They didn't need an ornament-- they lacked a Christmas Tree.
They didn't have a present even though it was tradition,
The only boxes I could see were labeled "ammunition".
I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,
He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.
I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near
and kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.
There's nothing wrong, my little son, for safe we sleep tonight,
our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,
to worry about the things in life that really mean nothing at all,
instead of wondering each day if we will be the next to fall.
He looked at me as children do and said it's always right,
to thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write.
And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,
to thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote,
God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home. Remember that we love you so, and that you're not alone.
The gift you give, you share with all, a present every day,
You give the gift of liberty and that we can't repay.
26 November 2008
Something to be Thankfull For
November 24th, 2008 at 10:38 pm
Outnumbered Nearly 10:1, Marines Make ‘Em Pay
» by Bill Dupray in: Islamo-fascists, Military, National security, Patriots, War on Terror
Looks like 250 terrorists picked the wrong day to screw with 30 U.S. Marines in Afghanistan. Frankly, is there ever a good day to screw with the Marines?
In the city of Shewan, approximately 250 insurgents ambushed 30 Marines and paid a heavy price for it. . . .
“The day started out with a 10-kilometer patrol with elements mounted and dismounted, so by the time we got to Shewan, we were pretty beat,” said a designated marksman who requested to remain unidentified. “Our vehicles came under a barrage of enemy RPGs (rocket propelled grenades) and machine gun fire. One of our ‘humvees’ was disabled from RPG fire, and the Marines inside dismounted and laid down suppression fire so they could evacuate a Marine who was knocked unconscious from the blast.”
The vicious attack that left the humvee destroyed and several of the Marines pinned down in the kill zone sparked an intense eight-hour battle as the platoon desperately fought to recover their comrades. After recovering the Marines trapped in the kill zone, another platoon sergeant personally led numerous attacks on enemy fortified positions while the platoon fought house to house and trench to trench in order to clear through the enemy ambush site.
“The biggest thing to take from that day is what Marines can accomplish when they’re given the opportunity to fight,” the sniper said. “A small group of Marines met a numerically superior force and embarrassed them in their own backyard. The insurgents told the townspeople that they were stronger than the Americans, and that day we showed them they were wrong.”
And of all mistakes the terrorists made that day, the worst one was picking the patrol with this guy in it.
During the battle, the designated marksman single handedly thwarted a company-sized enemy RPG and machinegun ambush by reportedly killing 20 enemy fighters with his devastatingly accurate precision fire. He selflessly exposed himself time and again to intense enemy fire during a critical point in the eight-hour battle for Shewan in order to kill any enemy combatants who attempted to engage or maneuver on the Marines in the kill zone. What made his actions even more impressive was the fact that he didn’t miss any shots, despite the enemies’ rounds impacting within a foot of his fighting position.
“I was in my own little world,” the young corporal said. “I wasn’t even aware of a lot of the rounds impacting near my position, because I was concentrating so hard on making sure my rounds were on target.”
The most amazing thing about the battle: Not a single Marine was seriously hurt.
Outnumbered Nearly 10:1, Marines Make ‘Em Pay
» by Bill Dupray in: Islamo-fascists, Military, National security, Patriots, War on Terror
Looks like 250 terrorists picked the wrong day to screw with 30 U.S. Marines in Afghanistan. Frankly, is there ever a good day to screw with the Marines?
In the city of Shewan, approximately 250 insurgents ambushed 30 Marines and paid a heavy price for it. . . .
“The day started out with a 10-kilometer patrol with elements mounted and dismounted, so by the time we got to Shewan, we were pretty beat,” said a designated marksman who requested to remain unidentified. “Our vehicles came under a barrage of enemy RPGs (rocket propelled grenades) and machine gun fire. One of our ‘humvees’ was disabled from RPG fire, and the Marines inside dismounted and laid down suppression fire so they could evacuate a Marine who was knocked unconscious from the blast.”
The vicious attack that left the humvee destroyed and several of the Marines pinned down in the kill zone sparked an intense eight-hour battle as the platoon desperately fought to recover their comrades. After recovering the Marines trapped in the kill zone, another platoon sergeant personally led numerous attacks on enemy fortified positions while the platoon fought house to house and trench to trench in order to clear through the enemy ambush site.
“The biggest thing to take from that day is what Marines can accomplish when they’re given the opportunity to fight,” the sniper said. “A small group of Marines met a numerically superior force and embarrassed them in their own backyard. The insurgents told the townspeople that they were stronger than the Americans, and that day we showed them they were wrong.”
And of all mistakes the terrorists made that day, the worst one was picking the patrol with this guy in it.
During the battle, the designated marksman single handedly thwarted a company-sized enemy RPG and machinegun ambush by reportedly killing 20 enemy fighters with his devastatingly accurate precision fire. He selflessly exposed himself time and again to intense enemy fire during a critical point in the eight-hour battle for Shewan in order to kill any enemy combatants who attempted to engage or maneuver on the Marines in the kill zone. What made his actions even more impressive was the fact that he didn’t miss any shots, despite the enemies’ rounds impacting within a foot of his fighting position.
“I was in my own little world,” the young corporal said. “I wasn’t even aware of a lot of the rounds impacting near my position, because I was concentrating so hard on making sure my rounds were on target.”
The most amazing thing about the battle: Not a single Marine was seriously hurt.
20 September 2008
For the Fallen
I feel I should say a word about operation Kingfisher. Forty one years ago or about this week the memories are still there in my mind and the pain of loss is still in my heart.. Since we have Marines in harms ways in Iraq and Afghanistan today this brings great grief to me. Since Vietnam I have been in one other war Bosnia in 1994 as an observer, but my days with 2/4 and operation Kingfisher took my youthful innocence away forever.
For those people who read these posts I want to say Barker and Foster received the Medal of Honor from 2/4, but from what I saw while serving in 2/4 was courage beyond normal courage portrayed in movies. Like on the Iwo Jima memorial courage is a common virtue to Marines. Some if not all of the Marines in the Battle of Bastards Bridge, and September 21 survived that battle only to be killed and wounded in action later on.
Soon thereafter 2/4 Marines won two more Medal of Honors at Dai Do. I am sure 2/4 must be the most decorated grunt battalion as far as CMOH is (in a short period of time) concerned in Marine Corps history, if not close to it.
Marine heroes do not exist in solo. They exist in groups; therefore anyone who served when I was there is a hero. God Bless the souls of our dead who died there and those who died later on. May they rest in peace!
Archie Haase
Echo 2/4
They shall grow not old, as we who are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
~Laurence Binyon, "For the Fallen"
For those people who read these posts I want to say Barker and Foster received the Medal of Honor from 2/4, but from what I saw while serving in 2/4 was courage beyond normal courage portrayed in movies. Like on the Iwo Jima memorial courage is a common virtue to Marines. Some if not all of the Marines in the Battle of Bastards Bridge, and September 21 survived that battle only to be killed and wounded in action later on.
Soon thereafter 2/4 Marines won two more Medal of Honors at Dai Do. I am sure 2/4 must be the most decorated grunt battalion as far as CMOH is (in a short period of time) concerned in Marine Corps history, if not close to it.
Marine heroes do not exist in solo. They exist in groups; therefore anyone who served when I was there is a hero. God Bless the souls of our dead who died there and those who died later on. May they rest in peace!
Archie Haase
Echo 2/4
They shall grow not old, as we who are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
~Laurence Binyon, "For the Fallen"
08 June 2008
What "The Wall" means to me
Recently, I had the opportunity to visit the moving wall. This was the first time that I had seen the wall in person and it was an emotional experience for me. With some help I was able to find the panel with the names of all the men we lost on Sept. 21st, 1967. I took pictures and made impressions of all the names and for a few minutes I was back there with them. But I was also back there when we lost them. Maybe it was a flashback, I don't know, but that's what I was thinking of as I was leaving.
There was a lady there from the local television station, and she stopped me and asked if I would do an interview on camera for her. I told her that I would if I could have some time to think about it. She said that she was leaving soon and needed to do it now. I asked her if we could do it in the morning because I really wasn't in the mood to talk about it at that time. She said she wouldn't be there in the morning, so she got someone else to do it. So I missed my chance to tell my little corner of the world what "The Wall" means to me. So I want to tell you now what it means to me.
What I should have said was that the wall is a symbol of many things to different people. It means many things to me also. It takes me back to be with my friends, my brothers in arms, some of whom I came to love as a brother. Their death hit just as hard as if they were a part of my family back home. And so when I stand back and look at the wall with it's over 58,000 names, I think of what might have been. Just as each Mother, Father, Husband, Wife, Sister or Brother must think of what might have been if their loved one had made it home. They all had dreams and plans, just as each person represented on the wall had their own dreams and plans of what they would do when they got back to "The World". So the wall represents what might have been. The dreams and plans unfulfilled, the children and grandchildren never born. Unknown generations lost, their contributions to family and our country never realized. So in one sense, the wall represents not only the loss of the over 58,000 men and women, but the loss of untold numbers of generations that might have been and all the dreams, plans and hopes that go with them.
But ultimately, I think "The Wall" is a symbol of love. The Bible says " For no greater love hath a man than to give his life for his friend". We, who were in combat, were ready at any time to risk our lives for the man next to us. And why were we there in the first place? Because we loved our country, and our families and our way of life. We went and served for these reasons. And over 58,000 died for these reasons and to help make the world a better place for those that come after us. So, I wish I had taken the opportunity to tell the world these things and that each of you that reads this will look at the Wall in a new light, the light of love.
Bill
6/7/08
There was a lady there from the local television station, and she stopped me and asked if I would do an interview on camera for her. I told her that I would if I could have some time to think about it. She said that she was leaving soon and needed to do it now. I asked her if we could do it in the morning because I really wasn't in the mood to talk about it at that time. She said she wouldn't be there in the morning, so she got someone else to do it. So I missed my chance to tell my little corner of the world what "The Wall" means to me. So I want to tell you now what it means to me.
What I should have said was that the wall is a symbol of many things to different people. It means many things to me also. It takes me back to be with my friends, my brothers in arms, some of whom I came to love as a brother. Their death hit just as hard as if they were a part of my family back home. And so when I stand back and look at the wall with it's over 58,000 names, I think of what might have been. Just as each Mother, Father, Husband, Wife, Sister or Brother must think of what might have been if their loved one had made it home. They all had dreams and plans, just as each person represented on the wall had their own dreams and plans of what they would do when they got back to "The World". So the wall represents what might have been. The dreams and plans unfulfilled, the children and grandchildren never born. Unknown generations lost, their contributions to family and our country never realized. So in one sense, the wall represents not only the loss of the over 58,000 men and women, but the loss of untold numbers of generations that might have been and all the dreams, plans and hopes that go with them.
But ultimately, I think "The Wall" is a symbol of love. The Bible says " For no greater love hath a man than to give his life for his friend". We, who were in combat, were ready at any time to risk our lives for the man next to us. And why were we there in the first place? Because we loved our country, and our families and our way of life. We went and served for these reasons. And over 58,000 died for these reasons and to help make the world a better place for those that come after us. So, I wish I had taken the opportunity to tell the world these things and that each of you that reads this will look at the Wall in a new light, the light of love.
Bill
6/7/08
26 May 2008
Memorial Day 2008
Please click on the link below for a special Memorial Day Tribute
Semper Fi,
Bill
http://www.usa-patriotism.com/heroes/fallen/farewellmarine.htm
Semper Fi,
Bill
http://www.usa-patriotism.com/heroes/fallen/farewellmarine.htm
07 May 2008
The Battle Of Bastard's Bridge
In the second week of October 1967 the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines, relieved BLT 2/3 as the defense force for the recently built bridge north of Strongpoint C-2. The construction of the bridge had permitted the reopening of the vital road to Con Thien washed out by the heavy September rains. The battalion defended the bridge because the 3rd Marine Division was concerned that if the enemy destroyed the bridge they would cut the only supply line to Con Thien.
The defense of the bridge was no easy task for Lieutenant Colonel Hammond's battalion. Since its move north from Camp Evans on 11 September, constant combat around Con Thien had worn the battalion down from a "foxhole strength" of 952 to about 462. The 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines had great difficulty in manning all the defensive positions prepared by the departed full-strength BLT-2/3.
The defensive position around the bridge was divided into quadrants by virtue of the road, which ran roughly north and south, and the stream, which ran east and west. Golf Company had the northwest quadrant; Hotel Company was on the same side of the road but across the stream in the southwest quadrant. Fox Company was in the northeast; Echo Company in the southeast. The battalion command group set up beside the stream in Golf Company's area and near the center of the position.
At 0125 on 14 October, 25 artillery rounds, rockets, and 135-150 mortar rounds hit Hotel Company. An ambush squad posted in front of the company reported an enemy force moving toward it, and immediately took the advancing enemy under fire. The Marine squad leader notified his company that he had three casualties and that the enemy seriously outnumbered his squad. The company commander, Captain Arthur P. Brill, Jr., ordered the squad to pull back and, at the same time, called for night defensive fires to block the avenues of approach to his position. The battalion requested flare ships to illuminate the area. Using starlight scopes, sniper teams watched the enemy as they massed only 50 meters in front of the company. The snipers and two tanks attached to the company opened fire, forcing the North Vietnamese to start their assault prematurely. The rest of the Hotel Company held fire until the NVA troops reached a clearing 20 meters from the wire. Of the entire attacking unit, only two NVA soldiers reached the wire and Marines killed both as they tried to breach that obstacle.
The enemy withdrew, leaving bodies behind, but they were far from finished. At 0230, enemy mortars shelled Golf Company. Direct hits by RPGs destroyed a machine gun emplacement and several backup positions on the primary avenue of approach into the company position. The NVA force attacked through this break, overran the company command post, and killed the company commander, Captain Jack W. Phillips, and his forward observer. Three platoon leaders, two of whom had just arrived in Vietnam that morning, also died. The battalion sent its S-3A, Captain James W. McCarter, Jr., to replace Phillips, but enemy fire killed him before he reached Golf Company. During the confused, hand-to-hand combat some of the North Vietnamese fought their way within grenade range of the battalion command post in the center of the position.
In the command post, although wounded by a grenade, Sergeant Paul H. Foster, a member of the fire support coordination center, continued to direct mortar and artillery fire upon the enemy. Another grenade landed among a group of six Marines. Sergeant Foster threw his flak jacket over the grenade and jumped on top of the jacket. The grenade blast mortally wounded him, but this action saved his fellow Marines. Before the melee ended, the North Vietnamese killed or wounded the entire forward air control team. The enemy also killed the battalion medical chief, and wounded the fire support coordinator, headquarters commandant, and battalion sergeant major.
Lieutenant Colonel Hammond moved what was left of his command group to a better location within Hotel Company's position. He ordered Fox Company to move to Golf Company's right flank and counterattack to push the NVA forces out of the perimeter. Illumination and automatic weapons fire from "Puff," the AC-47 requested at the beginning of the fight and which arrived about 0330, aided the counterattack. By 0430, the enemy began retreating out of the position, pursued by Echo Company.
The next morning the 2nd Battalion reconsolidated and evacuated casualties. There were twenty-one dead (18 from 2/4 Marines) and two dozen or more wounded. The NVA lost at least 24 killed. That afternoon, Lieutenant General Cushman and Major General Hochmuth visited the bridge site. They granted a request from Lieutenant Colonel Hammond that the new bridge be named "Bastard's Bridge" to honor the 18 Marines of the 2nd Battalion who gave their lives in its defense. At 1400, Hammond's battalion turned over the bridge to Lieutenant Colonel Needham's 3rd Battalion, 3rd Marines and then moved to Dong Ha where it assumed the mission of regimental reserve after 42 days of close combat.
The men killed in action at Bastard's Bridge were
H Btry, 3rd Bn, 12th Marines
1stLt William F. Mullins, Short Hills, NJ
Sgt Paul H. Foster, San Francisco, CA (Medal of Honor)
Pfc Robert J. Araujo, New York, NY
G Co, 2nd Bn, 4th Marines
Capt Jack W. Phillips, Mission, KS (Silver Star)
1stLt Charles Yaghoobian, Pawtucket, RI
2ndLt Eric C. Egge, Hopkins, MN
LCpl John P. Avery, Elizabethton, TN
LCpl Duane J. Foss, Hastings, MN
LCpl Frank Foster, Meridian, MS
LCpl Phillip S. France, Baltimore, MD (Silver Star)
LCpl Donald A. Gehling, Grand Meadow, MN
LCpl Morris J. Sensat, Egan, LA
Pfc Robert D. Buchanan, Bristol, VA
Pfc Gary C. Griswold, Bethel, CT
Pfc David A. Hamilton, Springfield, OH (Silver Star)
Pfc William I. White, North Vandergrift, PA
Pfc Stephen R. Worley, West Monroe, LA
H&S Co, 2nd Bn, 4th Marines
Capt James W. McCarter, New Orleans, LA (Silver Star)
HM2 Robert E. Bardach, Arlington Heights, IL
HN John I. Higgins, Chula Vista, CA
HN Doyle G. King, Vinemont, AL (Bronze Star "V")
The defense of the bridge was no easy task for Lieutenant Colonel Hammond's battalion. Since its move north from Camp Evans on 11 September, constant combat around Con Thien had worn the battalion down from a "foxhole strength" of 952 to about 462. The 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines had great difficulty in manning all the defensive positions prepared by the departed full-strength BLT-2/3.
The defensive position around the bridge was divided into quadrants by virtue of the road, which ran roughly north and south, and the stream, which ran east and west. Golf Company had the northwest quadrant; Hotel Company was on the same side of the road but across the stream in the southwest quadrant. Fox Company was in the northeast; Echo Company in the southeast. The battalion command group set up beside the stream in Golf Company's area and near the center of the position.
At 0125 on 14 October, 25 artillery rounds, rockets, and 135-150 mortar rounds hit Hotel Company. An ambush squad posted in front of the company reported an enemy force moving toward it, and immediately took the advancing enemy under fire. The Marine squad leader notified his company that he had three casualties and that the enemy seriously outnumbered his squad. The company commander, Captain Arthur P. Brill, Jr., ordered the squad to pull back and, at the same time, called for night defensive fires to block the avenues of approach to his position. The battalion requested flare ships to illuminate the area. Using starlight scopes, sniper teams watched the enemy as they massed only 50 meters in front of the company. The snipers and two tanks attached to the company opened fire, forcing the North Vietnamese to start their assault prematurely. The rest of the Hotel Company held fire until the NVA troops reached a clearing 20 meters from the wire. Of the entire attacking unit, only two NVA soldiers reached the wire and Marines killed both as they tried to breach that obstacle.
The enemy withdrew, leaving bodies behind, but they were far from finished. At 0230, enemy mortars shelled Golf Company. Direct hits by RPGs destroyed a machine gun emplacement and several backup positions on the primary avenue of approach into the company position. The NVA force attacked through this break, overran the company command post, and killed the company commander, Captain Jack W. Phillips, and his forward observer. Three platoon leaders, two of whom had just arrived in Vietnam that morning, also died. The battalion sent its S-3A, Captain James W. McCarter, Jr., to replace Phillips, but enemy fire killed him before he reached Golf Company. During the confused, hand-to-hand combat some of the North Vietnamese fought their way within grenade range of the battalion command post in the center of the position.
In the command post, although wounded by a grenade, Sergeant Paul H. Foster, a member of the fire support coordination center, continued to direct mortar and artillery fire upon the enemy. Another grenade landed among a group of six Marines. Sergeant Foster threw his flak jacket over the grenade and jumped on top of the jacket. The grenade blast mortally wounded him, but this action saved his fellow Marines. Before the melee ended, the North Vietnamese killed or wounded the entire forward air control team. The enemy also killed the battalion medical chief, and wounded the fire support coordinator, headquarters commandant, and battalion sergeant major.
Lieutenant Colonel Hammond moved what was left of his command group to a better location within Hotel Company's position. He ordered Fox Company to move to Golf Company's right flank and counterattack to push the NVA forces out of the perimeter. Illumination and automatic weapons fire from "Puff," the AC-47 requested at the beginning of the fight and which arrived about 0330, aided the counterattack. By 0430, the enemy began retreating out of the position, pursued by Echo Company.
The next morning the 2nd Battalion reconsolidated and evacuated casualties. There were twenty-one dead (18 from 2/4 Marines) and two dozen or more wounded. The NVA lost at least 24 killed. That afternoon, Lieutenant General Cushman and Major General Hochmuth visited the bridge site. They granted a request from Lieutenant Colonel Hammond that the new bridge be named "Bastard's Bridge" to honor the 18 Marines of the 2nd Battalion who gave their lives in its defense. At 1400, Hammond's battalion turned over the bridge to Lieutenant Colonel Needham's 3rd Battalion, 3rd Marines and then moved to Dong Ha where it assumed the mission of regimental reserve after 42 days of close combat.
The men killed in action at Bastard's Bridge were
H Btry, 3rd Bn, 12th Marines
1stLt William F. Mullins, Short Hills, NJ
Sgt Paul H. Foster, San Francisco, CA (Medal of Honor)
Pfc Robert J. Araujo, New York, NY
G Co, 2nd Bn, 4th Marines
Capt Jack W. Phillips, Mission, KS (Silver Star)
1stLt Charles Yaghoobian, Pawtucket, RI
2ndLt Eric C. Egge, Hopkins, MN
LCpl John P. Avery, Elizabethton, TN
LCpl Duane J. Foss, Hastings, MN
LCpl Frank Foster, Meridian, MS
LCpl Phillip S. France, Baltimore, MD (Silver Star)
LCpl Donald A. Gehling, Grand Meadow, MN
LCpl Morris J. Sensat, Egan, LA
Pfc Robert D. Buchanan, Bristol, VA
Pfc Gary C. Griswold, Bethel, CT
Pfc David A. Hamilton, Springfield, OH (Silver Star)
Pfc William I. White, North Vandergrift, PA
Pfc Stephen R. Worley, West Monroe, LA
H&S Co, 2nd Bn, 4th Marines
Capt James W. McCarter, New Orleans, LA (Silver Star)
HM2 Robert E. Bardach, Arlington Heights, IL
HN John I. Higgins, Chula Vista, CA
HN Doyle G. King, Vinemont, AL (Bronze Star "V")
29 March 2008
As we decide who to vote for
This is a departure from the purpose of this blog, but I feel it important enough at this point in our country's history to share it with you.
As we consider who will occupy the White House for the next four years, it is important to consider the impact that person could have on the future of Western Civilization as we know it.
The following is an EXCELLENT essay; well thought out and presented by Raymond S. Kraft, a writer living in Northern California who has studied the Middle Eastern culture and religion.
Historical Significance-Sixty-three years ago, Nazi Germany had overrun almost all of Europe and hammered England to the verge of bankruptcy and defeat. The Nazis had sunk more than 400 British ships in their convoys between England and America taking food and war materials.At that time the US was in an isolationist, pacifist mood, and most Americans wanted nothing to do with the European or the Asian war.Then along came Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and in outrage Congress unanimously declared war on Japan, and the following day on Germany, who had not yet attacked us. It was a dicey thing. We had few allies.France was not an ally, as the Vichy government of France quickly aligned itself with its German occupiers. Germany was certainly not an ally, as Hitler was intent on setting up a Thousand Year Reich in Europe. Japan was not an ally, as it was well on its way to owning and controlling all of Asia.Together, Japan and Germany had long-range plans of invading Canada and Mexico, as launching pads to get into the United States over our northern and southern borders, after they finished gaining control of Asia and Europe.America's only allies then were England, Ireland, Scotland, Canada, Australia, and Russia. That was about it. All of Europe, from Norway to Italy (except Russia in the East) was already under the Nazi heel.The US was certainly not prepared for war. The US had drastically downgraded most of its military forces after WW I because of the depression, so that at the outbreak of WW II, Army units were training with broomsticks because they didn't have guns, and cars with 'tank' painted on the doors because they didn't have real tanks. A huge chunk of our Navy had just been sunk or damaged at Pearl Harbor.Britain had already gone bankrupt, saved only by the donation of $600 million in gold bullion in the Bank of England (that was actually! the property of Belgium) given by Belgium to England to carry on the war when Belgium was overrun by Hitler (a little known fact).Actually, Belgium surrendered in one day, because it was unable to oppose the German invasion, and the Germans bombed Brussels into rubble the next day just to prove they could.Britain had already been holding out for two years in the face of staggering losses and the near decimation of its Royal Air Force in the Battle of Britain, and was saved from being overrun by Germany only because Hitler made the mistake of thinking the Brits were a relatively minor threat that could be dealt with later.
Hitler first turned his attention to Russia, in the late summer of 1940 at a time when England was on the verge of collapse.Ironically, Russia saved America's butt by putting up a desperate fight for two years, until the US got geared up to begin hammering away at Germany.Russia lost something like 24,000,000 people in the sieges of Stalingrad and Moscow alone, 90% of them from cold and starvation, mostly civilians, but also more than a 1,000,000 soldiers.Had Russia surrendered, Hitler would have been able to focus his entire war effort against the Brits, then America. If that had happened, the Nazis could possibly have won the war.All of this has been brought out to illustrate that turning points in history are often dicey things.
Now, we find ourselves at another one of those key moments in history.There is a very dangerous minority in Islam that either has, or wants, and may soon have, the ability to deliver small nuclear, biological, or chemical weapons, almost anywhere in the world.The Jihadis, the militant Muslims, are basically Nazis in Kaffiyahs. They believe that Islam, a radically conservative form of Wahhabi Islam, should own and control the Middle East first, then Europe, then the world. To them, all who do not bow to their way of thinking should be killed, enslaved, or subjugated. They want to finish the Holocaust, destroy Israel, and purge the world of Jews. This is their mantra (goal).There is also a civil war raging in the Middle East. It is, for the most part not a hot war, but a war of ideas. Islam is having its Inquisition and its Reformation, but it is not yet known which side will win, the Inquisitors, or the Reformationists.If the Inquisition wins, then the Wahhabis, the Jihadis, will control the Middle East, the OPEC oil, and the US, European, and Asian economies.The techno-industrial economies will be at the mercy of OPEC. Not an OPEC dominated by the educated, rational Saudis of today, but an OPEC dominatedby the Jihadis. Do you want gas in your car? Do you want heating oil next winter? Do you want the dollar to be worth anything? You had better hope the Jihad, the Muslim Inquisition, loses, and the Islamic Reformation wins. If the Reformation movement wins, that is, the moderate Muslims who believe that Islam can respect and tolerate other religions, live in peace with the rest of the world, and move out of the 10th century into the 21st, then the troubles in the Middle East will eventually fade away. A moderate and prosperous Middle East will emerge.We have to help the Reformation win, and to do that we have to fight the Inquisition, i.e., the Wahhabi movement, the Jihad, Al Qaeda and the Islamic terrorist movements. We have to do it somewhere. We can't do it everywhere at once. We have created a focal point for the battle at a time and place of our choosing… in Iraq. Not in New York, not in London or Paris or Berlin, but in Iraq, where we are doing two important things.
(1) We deposed Saddam Hussein. Whether Saddam Hussein was directly involved in the 9/11 terrorist attack or not, it is undisputed that Saddam has been actively supporting the terrorist movement for decades; Saddam was a terrorist! Saddam was a weapon of mass destruction, responsible for the deaths of probably more than a 1,000,000 Iraqis and 2,000,000 Iranians.(2) We created a battle, a confrontation, and a flash point, with Islamic terrorism in Iraq. We have focused the battle. We are killing bad people, and the ones we get there won't have to be killed here. We also have a good shot at creating a democratic, peaceful Iraq, which will b e a catalyst for democratic change in the rest of the Middle East, and an outpost for a stabilizing American military presence in the Middle East for as long as it is needed.WW II, the war with the Japanese and German Nazis, really began with a whimper' in 1928. It did not begin with Pearl Harbor. It began with the Japanese invasion of China. It was a war for fourteen years before the US joined it. It officially ended in 1945, a 17-year war, and was followed by another decade of US occupation in Germany and Japan to get those countries reconstructed and running on their own again--a 27 year war.WW II cost the United States an amount equal to approximately a full year's GDP, adjusted for inflation, equal to about $12 trillion dollars. WW II cost America more than 400,000 soldiers killed in action and nearly 100,000 still missing in action.The Iraq war has, so far, cost the United States about $160,000,000,000, which is roughly what the 9/11 terrorist attack cost New York. It has also cost more than 3,600 American lives, which is roughly equivalent to lives that the Jihad killed (within the United States) in the 9/11 terrorist attack.
The cost of not fighting and winning WW II would have been unimaginably greater - a world dominated by Japanese Imperialism and German Nazism.This is not a 60-Minutes TV show, or a 2-hour movie in which everything comes out okay. The real world is not like that. It is messy, uncertain, and sometimes bloody and ugly. It always has been, and probably always will be.The bottom line is that we will have to deal with Islamic terrorism until we defeat it, whenever that is. It will not go away if we ignore it!If the US can create a reasonably democratic and stable Iraq, then we have an ally, like England, in the Middle East, a platform, from which we can work to help modernize and moderate the Middle East. The history of the world is the clash between the forces of relative civility and civilization, and the barbarians clamoring at the gates to conquer the world.The Iraq War is merely another battle in this ancient and never ending war. Now, for the first time ever, the barbarians are about to get nuclear weapons, unless some body prevents them from getting them.We have four options:
1. We can defeat the Jihad now, before it gets nuclear weapons
.2. We can fight the Jihad later, after it gets nuclear weapons (which may be as early as next year, if Iran's progress on nuclear weapons is what Iran claims it is).
3. We can surrender to the Jihad and accept its dominance in the Middle East now; in Europe in the next few years or decades, and ultimately in America.
OR4. We can stand down now, and pick up the fight later when the Jihad is more widespread and better armed, perhaps after the Jihad has dominated France and Germany and possibly most of the rest of Europe. It will, of course, be more dangerous, more expensive, and much bloodier.
If you oppose this war, I hope you like the idea that your children, or grandchildren, may live in an Islamic-America under the Mullahs and the Sharia, an America that resembles Iran today.The history of the world is the history of civilization clashes, cultural clashes. All wars are about ideas, ideas about what society and civilization should be like, and the most determined always win.Those who are willing to be the most ruthless always win the pacifists always lose, because the anti-pacifists kill them.Remember, perspective is every thing, and! America's schools teach too little history for perspective to be clear, especially in the young American mind.The Cold War lasted from about 1947 at least until the Berlin Wall came down in 1989; forty-two years!Europe spent the first half of the 19th century fighting Napoleon, and from 1870 to 1945 fighting Germany!World War II began in 1928, lasted 17 years, plus a ten year occupation and the US still has troops in Germany and Japan. World War II resulted in the death of more than 50,000,000 people, maybe more than 100,000,000 people, depending on which estimates you accept.
The US has taken more than 3,500 killed in action in Iraq. The US took more than 4,000 killed in action on the morning of June 6, 1944, the first day of the Normandy Invasion to rid Europe of Nazi Imperialism.In WW II the US averaged 2,000 KIA a week for four years. Most of the individual battles of WW II lost more Americans than the entire Iraq war has done so far.The stakes are at least as high. A world dominated by representative governments with civil rights, human rights, and personal freedoms . . . or a world dominated by a radical Islamic Wahhabi movement, by the Jihad, under the Mullahs and the Sharia (Islamic law).It's difficult to understand why the average American does not grasp this. They favor human rights, civil rights, liberty and freedom, but evidently not for Iraqis.'Peace Activists' always seem to demonstrate here in America, where it's safe.Why don't we see Peace Activist demonstrating in Iran, Syria, Iraq, Sudan, North Korea, in the places that really need peace activism the most? I'll tell you why! They would be killed!The liberal mentality is supposed to favor human rights, civil rights, democracy, multiculturalism, diversity, etc., but if the Jihad wins, wherever the Jihad wins, it is the end of civil rights, human rights, democracy, multiculturalism, diversity, etc.Americans who oppose the liberation of Iraq are coming down on the side of their own worst enemy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As we consider who will occupy the White House for the next four years, it is important to consider the impact that person could have on the future of Western Civilization as we know it.
The following is an EXCELLENT essay; well thought out and presented by Raymond S. Kraft, a writer living in Northern California who has studied the Middle Eastern culture and religion.
Historical Significance-Sixty-three years ago, Nazi Germany had overrun almost all of Europe and hammered England to the verge of bankruptcy and defeat. The Nazis had sunk more than 400 British ships in their convoys between England and America taking food and war materials.At that time the US was in an isolationist, pacifist mood, and most Americans wanted nothing to do with the European or the Asian war.Then along came Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and in outrage Congress unanimously declared war on Japan, and the following day on Germany, who had not yet attacked us. It was a dicey thing. We had few allies.France was not an ally, as the Vichy government of France quickly aligned itself with its German occupiers. Germany was certainly not an ally, as Hitler was intent on setting up a Thousand Year Reich in Europe. Japan was not an ally, as it was well on its way to owning and controlling all of Asia.Together, Japan and Germany had long-range plans of invading Canada and Mexico, as launching pads to get into the United States over our northern and southern borders, after they finished gaining control of Asia and Europe.America's only allies then were England, Ireland, Scotland, Canada, Australia, and Russia. That was about it. All of Europe, from Norway to Italy (except Russia in the East) was already under the Nazi heel.The US was certainly not prepared for war. The US had drastically downgraded most of its military forces after WW I because of the depression, so that at the outbreak of WW II, Army units were training with broomsticks because they didn't have guns, and cars with 'tank' painted on the doors because they didn't have real tanks. A huge chunk of our Navy had just been sunk or damaged at Pearl Harbor.Britain had already gone bankrupt, saved only by the donation of $600 million in gold bullion in the Bank of England (that was actually! the property of Belgium) given by Belgium to England to carry on the war when Belgium was overrun by Hitler (a little known fact).Actually, Belgium surrendered in one day, because it was unable to oppose the German invasion, and the Germans bombed Brussels into rubble the next day just to prove they could.Britain had already been holding out for two years in the face of staggering losses and the near decimation of its Royal Air Force in the Battle of Britain, and was saved from being overrun by Germany only because Hitler made the mistake of thinking the Brits were a relatively minor threat that could be dealt with later.
Hitler first turned his attention to Russia, in the late summer of 1940 at a time when England was on the verge of collapse.Ironically, Russia saved America's butt by putting up a desperate fight for two years, until the US got geared up to begin hammering away at Germany.Russia lost something like 24,000,000 people in the sieges of Stalingrad and Moscow alone, 90% of them from cold and starvation, mostly civilians, but also more than a 1,000,000 soldiers.Had Russia surrendered, Hitler would have been able to focus his entire war effort against the Brits, then America. If that had happened, the Nazis could possibly have won the war.All of this has been brought out to illustrate that turning points in history are often dicey things.
Now, we find ourselves at another one of those key moments in history.There is a very dangerous minority in Islam that either has, or wants, and may soon have, the ability to deliver small nuclear, biological, or chemical weapons, almost anywhere in the world.The Jihadis, the militant Muslims, are basically Nazis in Kaffiyahs. They believe that Islam, a radically conservative form of Wahhabi Islam, should own and control the Middle East first, then Europe, then the world. To them, all who do not bow to their way of thinking should be killed, enslaved, or subjugated. They want to finish the Holocaust, destroy Israel, and purge the world of Jews. This is their mantra (goal).There is also a civil war raging in the Middle East. It is, for the most part not a hot war, but a war of ideas. Islam is having its Inquisition and its Reformation, but it is not yet known which side will win, the Inquisitors, or the Reformationists.If the Inquisition wins, then the Wahhabis, the Jihadis, will control the Middle East, the OPEC oil, and the US, European, and Asian economies.The techno-industrial economies will be at the mercy of OPEC. Not an OPEC dominated by the educated, rational Saudis of today, but an OPEC dominatedby the Jihadis. Do you want gas in your car? Do you want heating oil next winter? Do you want the dollar to be worth anything? You had better hope the Jihad, the Muslim Inquisition, loses, and the Islamic Reformation wins. If the Reformation movement wins, that is, the moderate Muslims who believe that Islam can respect and tolerate other religions, live in peace with the rest of the world, and move out of the 10th century into the 21st, then the troubles in the Middle East will eventually fade away. A moderate and prosperous Middle East will emerge.We have to help the Reformation win, and to do that we have to fight the Inquisition, i.e., the Wahhabi movement, the Jihad, Al Qaeda and the Islamic terrorist movements. We have to do it somewhere. We can't do it everywhere at once. We have created a focal point for the battle at a time and place of our choosing… in Iraq. Not in New York, not in London or Paris or Berlin, but in Iraq, where we are doing two important things.
(1) We deposed Saddam Hussein. Whether Saddam Hussein was directly involved in the 9/11 terrorist attack or not, it is undisputed that Saddam has been actively supporting the terrorist movement for decades; Saddam was a terrorist! Saddam was a weapon of mass destruction, responsible for the deaths of probably more than a 1,000,000 Iraqis and 2,000,000 Iranians.(2) We created a battle, a confrontation, and a flash point, with Islamic terrorism in Iraq. We have focused the battle. We are killing bad people, and the ones we get there won't have to be killed here. We also have a good shot at creating a democratic, peaceful Iraq, which will b e a catalyst for democratic change in the rest of the Middle East, and an outpost for a stabilizing American military presence in the Middle East for as long as it is needed.WW II, the war with the Japanese and German Nazis, really began with a whimper' in 1928. It did not begin with Pearl Harbor. It began with the Japanese invasion of China. It was a war for fourteen years before the US joined it. It officially ended in 1945, a 17-year war, and was followed by another decade of US occupation in Germany and Japan to get those countries reconstructed and running on their own again--a 27 year war.WW II cost the United States an amount equal to approximately a full year's GDP, adjusted for inflation, equal to about $12 trillion dollars. WW II cost America more than 400,000 soldiers killed in action and nearly 100,000 still missing in action.The Iraq war has, so far, cost the United States about $160,000,000,000, which is roughly what the 9/11 terrorist attack cost New York. It has also cost more than 3,600 American lives, which is roughly equivalent to lives that the Jihad killed (within the United States) in the 9/11 terrorist attack.
The cost of not fighting and winning WW II would have been unimaginably greater - a world dominated by Japanese Imperialism and German Nazism.This is not a 60-Minutes TV show, or a 2-hour movie in which everything comes out okay. The real world is not like that. It is messy, uncertain, and sometimes bloody and ugly. It always has been, and probably always will be.The bottom line is that we will have to deal with Islamic terrorism until we defeat it, whenever that is. It will not go away if we ignore it!If the US can create a reasonably democratic and stable Iraq, then we have an ally, like England, in the Middle East, a platform, from which we can work to help modernize and moderate the Middle East. The history of the world is the clash between the forces of relative civility and civilization, and the barbarians clamoring at the gates to conquer the world.The Iraq War is merely another battle in this ancient and never ending war. Now, for the first time ever, the barbarians are about to get nuclear weapons, unless some body prevents them from getting them.We have four options:
1. We can defeat the Jihad now, before it gets nuclear weapons
.2. We can fight the Jihad later, after it gets nuclear weapons (which may be as early as next year, if Iran's progress on nuclear weapons is what Iran claims it is).
3. We can surrender to the Jihad and accept its dominance in the Middle East now; in Europe in the next few years or decades, and ultimately in America.
OR4. We can stand down now, and pick up the fight later when the Jihad is more widespread and better armed, perhaps after the Jihad has dominated France and Germany and possibly most of the rest of Europe. It will, of course, be more dangerous, more expensive, and much bloodier.
If you oppose this war, I hope you like the idea that your children, or grandchildren, may live in an Islamic-America under the Mullahs and the Sharia, an America that resembles Iran today.The history of the world is the history of civilization clashes, cultural clashes. All wars are about ideas, ideas about what society and civilization should be like, and the most determined always win.Those who are willing to be the most ruthless always win the pacifists always lose, because the anti-pacifists kill them.Remember, perspective is every thing, and! America's schools teach too little history for perspective to be clear, especially in the young American mind.The Cold War lasted from about 1947 at least until the Berlin Wall came down in 1989; forty-two years!Europe spent the first half of the 19th century fighting Napoleon, and from 1870 to 1945 fighting Germany!World War II began in 1928, lasted 17 years, plus a ten year occupation and the US still has troops in Germany and Japan. World War II resulted in the death of more than 50,000,000 people, maybe more than 100,000,000 people, depending on which estimates you accept.
The US has taken more than 3,500 killed in action in Iraq. The US took more than 4,000 killed in action on the morning of June 6, 1944, the first day of the Normandy Invasion to rid Europe of Nazi Imperialism.In WW II the US averaged 2,000 KIA a week for four years. Most of the individual battles of WW II lost more Americans than the entire Iraq war has done so far.The stakes are at least as high. A world dominated by representative governments with civil rights, human rights, and personal freedoms . . . or a world dominated by a radical Islamic Wahhabi movement, by the Jihad, under the Mullahs and the Sharia (Islamic law).It's difficult to understand why the average American does not grasp this. They favor human rights, civil rights, liberty and freedom, but evidently not for Iraqis.'Peace Activists' always seem to demonstrate here in America, where it's safe.Why don't we see Peace Activist demonstrating in Iran, Syria, Iraq, Sudan, North Korea, in the places that really need peace activism the most? I'll tell you why! They would be killed!The liberal mentality is supposed to favor human rights, civil rights, democracy, multiculturalism, diversity, etc., but if the Jihad wins, wherever the Jihad wins, it is the end of civil rights, human rights, democracy, multiculturalism, diversity, etc.Americans who oppose the liberation of Iraq are coming down on the side of their own worst enemy!
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21 March 2008
01 March 2008
A Reminder From 9/11
If God is sovereign, then why do these things happen? I will tell you what I think from this attack. God is saying: Wake-up Christians!!!! For whatever reason, the US for centuries has been protected from an attack like this. Alexander De Tourquville said it best, “America is great because America is good and when America ceases to be good, it will cease to be great.” I have a prayer that was actually prayed before the Kansas State Legislature, which has circulated around email for a while. I checked it out to make sure it was legitimate. When Minister Joe Wright was asked to open the new session of the Kansas Senate, everyone was passionately calling our country to repentance and righteousness.
Commentator Paul Harvey aired the prayer on the rest of the story on the radio and received a larger response to this program than any other he has ever aired.
Here is the prayer:
Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know your word says: Woe on those who call evil good, but that’s exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.
We confess that:
We have ridiculed the absolute truth of your word and called it pluralism.
We have worshipped other gods and called it multiculturalism.
We have endorsed perversion and called it an alternative lifestyle.
We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
We have neglected the needy and called it self-preservation.
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
We have killed our unborn children and called it a choice.
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem.
We have abused power and called it political savvy.
We have coveted our neighbor’s possessions and called it ambition.
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.
We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.
Search us, O God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and set us free. Guide and bless these men and women who have been sent to direct us to the center of your will. I ask it in the name of your Son, the living Savior, Jesus Christ.
Amen.
Commentator Paul Harvey aired the prayer on the rest of the story on the radio and received a larger response to this program than any other he has ever aired.
Here is the prayer:
Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know your word says: Woe on those who call evil good, but that’s exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.
We confess that:
We have ridiculed the absolute truth of your word and called it pluralism.
We have worshipped other gods and called it multiculturalism.
We have endorsed perversion and called it an alternative lifestyle.
We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
We have neglected the needy and called it self-preservation.
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
We have killed our unborn children and called it a choice.
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem.
We have abused power and called it political savvy.
We have coveted our neighbor’s possessions and called it ambition.
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.
We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.
Search us, O God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and set us free. Guide and bless these men and women who have been sent to direct us to the center of your will. I ask it in the name of your Son, the living Savior, Jesus Christ.
Amen.
07 February 2008
Healing The Wounds
Most generations of American warriors returned from foreign soil victors. These brave young men returned to a hero’s welcome and the gratitude of an attentive public. Their sacrifices and the lost innocence of youth were rewarded with caring and recognition by a grateful nation. Did the Vietnam veteran deserve any less?
Upon return, the parades offered to the Vietnam veteran were the war protest marches of the 1960s and 70s that many of us joined after release from active duty. It was a bitter irony that we became “soldiers” in the antiwar machine that fed our neglect.
The wounds, both psychic and physical were often hidden from sight, covered by a thin veneer. Recognition and acknowledgment upon our return would have made easier the loss---our lost innocence, the lost war, and the loss of so many futures.
For some to heal, an understanding spouse, friends, or family may be enough. A spiritual awakening may refocus a life. But more often it’s something far more solitary. A visit to the Vietnam Memorial alone to finally mourn. Discovering comrades-in-arms with whom you shared the experience, reliving it with those that truly understand. For some it’s even a return to Vietnam, replacing the old memory with a new, more pleasant reality.
But make no mistake, every combat veteran carries wounds, wounds that must heal. In conversations with friends who served, many talk about “just getting on with it” upon their return and not looking back. But each time I pursue the topic with them there is always a wound, still healing, but hidden from view. The great betrayal of our nation was the refusal to offer the healing salve of care and recognition for the pain and sacrifice of the young men who fought and returned with memories rather than victory.
The emotional scars were borne by every combat veteran but those severely wounded in action had scars that would never completely heal. Former United States Senator Max Cleland left Georgia for his sought after tour as a gung ho Second Lieutenant and returned without legs and one arm.
In his book, Strong at the Broken Places, Cleland writes, “The putting together of the smashed parts took years, and the strengthening process still continues. But through my crises and defeats I have learned that it is possible to become strong at the broken places.”
The healing process for such devastating and life altering wounds is unfathomable to anyone not themselves victims. But for those of us who only bore emotional scars, a grateful nation heralding our return would have set in place a therapeutic reentry, perhaps saving an entire generation of veterans from unnecessary struggle.
Upon return, the parades offered to the Vietnam veteran were the war protest marches of the 1960s and 70s that many of us joined after release from active duty. It was a bitter irony that we became “soldiers” in the antiwar machine that fed our neglect.
The wounds, both psychic and physical were often hidden from sight, covered by a thin veneer. Recognition and acknowledgment upon our return would have made easier the loss---our lost innocence, the lost war, and the loss of so many futures.
For some to heal, an understanding spouse, friends, or family may be enough. A spiritual awakening may refocus a life. But more often it’s something far more solitary. A visit to the Vietnam Memorial alone to finally mourn. Discovering comrades-in-arms with whom you shared the experience, reliving it with those that truly understand. For some it’s even a return to Vietnam, replacing the old memory with a new, more pleasant reality.
But make no mistake, every combat veteran carries wounds, wounds that must heal. In conversations with friends who served, many talk about “just getting on with it” upon their return and not looking back. But each time I pursue the topic with them there is always a wound, still healing, but hidden from view. The great betrayal of our nation was the refusal to offer the healing salve of care and recognition for the pain and sacrifice of the young men who fought and returned with memories rather than victory.
The emotional scars were borne by every combat veteran but those severely wounded in action had scars that would never completely heal. Former United States Senator Max Cleland left Georgia for his sought after tour as a gung ho Second Lieutenant and returned without legs and one arm.
In his book, Strong at the Broken Places, Cleland writes, “The putting together of the smashed parts took years, and the strengthening process still continues. But through my crises and defeats I have learned that it is possible to become strong at the broken places.”
The healing process for such devastating and life altering wounds is unfathomable to anyone not themselves victims. But for those of us who only bore emotional scars, a grateful nation heralding our return would have set in place a therapeutic reentry, perhaps saving an entire generation of veterans from unnecessary struggle.
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