Argghhh! The Home Of Two Of Jonah's Military Guys..: December 25, 2005

Through a glass, darkly - part II.

Once again proving his utility - Canadian Warrior CAPT H provides an expansion back to WWI of the open-backed-machine-gun-carrier post - with these fine shots of the Combat Car of the 1st Canadian Motor Machine Gun Brigade - circa 1914-18.

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

by John on Dec 31, 2005 | Observations on things Military

Wahabism Delenda Est!

Right Islam vs. Wrong Islam Muslims and non-Muslims must unite to defeat the Wahhabi ideology.
BY ABDURRAHMAN WAHID
Friday, December 30, 2005 12:01 a.m. EST

JAKARTA--News organizations report that Osama bin Laden has obtained a religious edict from a misguided Saudi cleric, justifying the use of nuclear weapons against America and the infliction of mass casualties. It requires great emotional strength to confront the potential ramifications of this fact. Yet can anyone doubt that those who joyfully incinerate the occupants of office buildings, commuter trains, hotels and nightclubs would leap at the chance to magnify their damage a thousandfold?

Imagine the impact of a single nuclear bomb detonated in New York, London, Paris, Sydney or L.A.! What about two or three? The entire edifice of modern civilization is built on economic and technological foundations that terrorists hope to collapse with nuclear attacks like so many fishing huts in the wake of a tsunami.

Just two small, well-placed bombs devastated Bali's tourist economy in 2002 and sent much of its population back to the rice fields and out to sea, to fill their empty bellies. What would be the effect of a global economic crisis in the wake of attacks far more devastating than those of Bali or 9/11?

It is time for people of good will from every faith and nation to recognize that a terrible danger threatens humanity. We cannot afford to continue "business as usual" in the face of this existential threat. Rather, we must set aside our international and partisan bickering, and join to confront the danger that lies before us.

Read the whole thing here, if you haven't already.

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

Just think what might happen if a small nuke, or simply a dirty bomb, went off in a New Jersey or Carolina port and another one went off in San diego or Los Angeles. Our economy would be effectively shut down. Commerce into and out of our country would stop - perhaps for a very long time. The economy couldn't take it. Millions would be out of work and the cascading effect of that disaster would be awful to behold. The United States should do everything in it's power to ensure such a thing never occurs. And people, who whine about the president authorizing wire taps, should fall on their knees to thank him for doing so.

posted by Larry Knudson on December 31, 2005 5:13 PM

I don't see adirty bomb deployed by terroists as big a threat as many other people do. First it is largely a pschylogical ploy based on the fact that most people don't have a decent understanding of radiation and fallout. A dirty bomb would do minimal damage to building etc and spread fallout over a fairlt small area unless it is detonated at medium altitude where the wind can spread the fallout, and even then unless you have a massive amount of radioactive material the concentrations of fallout will be fairly low. Also since terrorists would likely use such a weapon ina city the would be doing themselves no favors because modern construction techniques result in building with fairly high PF's in regards to radiation. Finally obtaining enough radioactive material would be both expensive and difficult, not mention unlikely to go unoticed. The only economical way to build a dirty bomb is if you have ready access to areacor where you can irradiate material fo use in a bomb. But if you have access to a reactor you would be better served to build and deploy conventional nuclear weapons.

posted by Chris Denny on December 31, 2005 7:33 PM

Actually, the whole rationale for using a "dirty" bomb is the difficulty in assuring a reaction in a conventional nuke (there's an oxymoron for you--John knows...). If one of the imploders is off by a nanosecond or so, you just wind up with a very expensive dirty bomb.

The Fear Factor won't come into play once the initial panic has subsided--unless the MSM plays it as the arrival of the Apocalypse. Which it just might, as long as there aren't any recent Elvis sightings.

Depending on the size of the bomb, the location, the weather, the amount and type of radioactive material, the hot zone will range from a high rem-count in a relatively small area, diminishing with distance or something a bit higher than normal background radiation spread over a wide area.

And anything in between.

Cleanup will be a bear because everybody will be screaming NIMBY--although I know of a hot spot from a nuke accident involving a Nike-Herc warhead in the early fifties that could serve. The thorium could probably use the company.

I used to play with the Green Beanies doing simulated terror attacks in the late 80s and I can think of a couple dozen pieces of devastating nastiness we performed (using dummy explosives and "You've been had" notes) that didn't involve anything more complicated than the IEDs going off in SWA.

But if the threat of dirty bombs keeps our HLS folks on their toes, I won't kibitz one bit...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 31, 2005 9:21 PM

You know,they way some of these leaders obtain their fatwas,makes you think,doesn't it?...it's like the the President getting International Relations advice from a small travelling,hell spouting,tent revivalist.(and I mean the real off the wall,racist type,whites are people only,extremists)

posted by big al on January 1, 2006 5:09 PM

� Dismissed, Soldier!

by John on Dec 31, 2005 | Global War on Terror (GWOT)

Unclear on the concept...?

A french artillery piece from WWI.

Made of paper. Explains a lot... right?

Actually, no.

Also known as a Quaker Gun.

Obviously, used for deception purposes - whether as in pretending to have something more powerful than you have for deterrence purposes (see May Day Parades at Red Square, or early Nazi Party Rallies at Nueremburg), or to deceive the mean people who suck and are trying to kill you as to the location of your *real* toys - so they can die surprised, later, when they miscalculate and you end up killing *them,* the bassids!

I just picked on the Soviets and Nazis, but hey, the North and South did it too - especially the North, early in the war around Washington. Such as these logs in a fort at Centerville, VA in 1862.

The concept has a long pedigree with the US Army - at *least* as early as 1780. As late as 1984, as I was a participant in *this* fight - on the winning side.

They were crucial for D-Day.

[Off on a tangent - while out looking for the Washington story, I stumbled across this, which confused me for a minute...]

Serb Quaker Gun

My Kosovo involvement includes some *direct experience* with the Quaker Gun concept as a component of Information Operations, just as relevant today as it was for Colonel Washington. To my mind, within the overall limitations on the campaign for both sides, the Serb Quaker Gun Concept was every effective.

And we still do it on our side, too.

In fact - if anyone has any pics of current (or the last 20 years or so, to avoid OPSEC issues) decoys, send 'em along!

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

by John on Dec 30, 2005 | Artillery | Historical Stuff

Through a glass, darkly...

Hosting provided by FotoTime

Two highback Humvees filled with Marines from the Maritime Special Purpose Force (MSPF) of the 22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit (Special Operations Capable), practice firing their M240G medium machine guns while on the move during during live fire training on the Udari Range outside Camp Beuhring, Kuwait, Dec. 11, 2005. The 22nd MEU (SOC) is currently in Iraq conducting combat operations in the Al Anbar province. Photo by: Sgt. Robert A. Sturkie

Seeing that twigged a few memories. I couldn't find the exact pics I wanted, but I did find these. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Ya want to be able to fight on your feet, have some cover, and be able to look *down* on the countryside around you. Admittedly, Bill takes that to an extreme. Though - I do remember times at the National Training Center when I was looking *down* into the cockpits of helos and A10s from the walls of the Central Corridor during Force-on-Force ops (where they use lasers for guns). Of course, up in Live Fire, I only saw *down* into helos. For some reason, the A10's were just specks high in the sky... The Air Force doesn't really believe in "Big Sky, Little Bullet." To tell the truth, I don't think helo pilots do, either. They just don't have any choice in the matter. Remember this challenge? How many holes can you find in Hubert?

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The Vietnam era 'Gun Truck'. Used for convoy protection, the gun truck has been revived for Iraq. Only one original gun truck came back from Vietnam. This replica has been a labor of love.

Hosting provided by FotoTime

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

I won't go into specifics, but having been through convoy escort training at the Udairi complex on two occassions I can say that it's some of the best tactical training there is. MPRI (the people who run it) really do their homework.

posted by Pogue on December 30, 2005 9:30 AM

Reminds me of our efforts to mount a .50 cal on a Huey. We succeeded, but boy oh boy did that gun shake the Sh&t outta that damn aircraft. Most effective though at taking out VC water buffalo. Had occasion once to have that fifty fired in anger. One night west of Moc Hoa, flying with Copperhead 33 we encountered NVA in the open crossing the canal from Cambodia. They had an armored vehicle which, in the dark looked like a tank but was an APC of Russian make, I believe. When the gun bunny had shot his load, I weighed in with my mini and the fifty. That gun tore the living crap outta the APC and troops in the open were just target practice for the mini. The next afternoon after the Cav had been to the scene, 33 had a sign over his bed saying, in effect, " I got more than Calley did!" We were credited with about 129 KIA and they had the rest of the night to carry off their dead and wounded.

posted by V29 on December 30, 2005 9:34 AM

And the week prior, they'd tried it with fifty troopies and a Ford tractor towing a reckless rifle. I was working with one of the Outlaws.

Same result, but no survivors.

They bulked up for the second try, which is why Two-Niner had such a target-rich environment.

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 30, 2005 10:12 AM

Heh. There are some (not who read here) who won't take the Calley comment in the spirit in which it is offered.

Sometimes, you have to have crossed the meadow where the Iron Crosses grow to understand that kind of humor...

posted by John of Argghhh! on December 30, 2005 10:15 AM

Indeed. I do wonder about the Marine gun trucks above though - do they expect the enemy to be polite enough to only attack from the right side?

Train as you fight guys, train as you fight.

posted by SGT Jeff (IRR) on December 30, 2005 10:38 AM

Jeff - It's still the practice portion. And only the first two vehicles are pictured. And all the targets may be on the right. And the range cadre directing and observing may be on the *left*.

Now that's out of the way, you're absolutely--heh--right...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 30, 2005 10:48 AM

The picture shows training, and the firing line is to the right. Gunning .50s on convoy, the gunner will maintain a constant sweep through his sector of fire (front guy does the front arc, tail end Charlie does the rear, and the gunners on the big trucks will scan, one to the right, one to the left, with somebody designated to keep airwatch. When a contact alert is issued, all guns orient in the same direction at first, and then adjust as other hostiles reveal themselves.
The 'Nam truck that came back was "Eve of Destruction", and she is displayed at the Army Transportation Museum at Fort Eustis, Virginia. Other guntrucks of the Viet Nam era were M37s and M37B1s, like "Otto II", with various configurations of homemade armor.

posted by Sgt. B. on December 30, 2005 11:34 AM

I have just finished reading "Arms of Destruction - Ranking the World's Best Land Weapons of WWII" , and toward the end, they look at the half-tracks. Apparently the M16 was very efficient at discouraging infantry, although it was originally designed as an AA mount. Maybe it is time to go back again to proven concepts.

P.S. John, how much is left in your Christmas Fund?

posted by SezaGeoff on December 30, 2005 4:40 PM

And the MOST interesting thing about that picture of the Marines is the unit designation: 22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit (Special Operations Capable), which is a _real_ first for the Marines.

The USMC hates, hates, hates the notion of special forces, and has since the days of the Marine Radiers like Carlson's, which they _never_ discuss with pride. The Marines have resisted creating SO units that would fall under SOCOM for a loooooong time, and it was only a couple of years ago that they even began to consider playing in the SO arena. Of course $$$$ motivates people in odd ways, and there is a _LOT_ of CT money being spread around, so the Marines began talking about creating a SO capable unit--folks who could operate and interoperate with the other SOF as needed.

That is a picture of history in the making, and I am surprised the USMC even allowed it to be published. Every Marine is just like every other Marine, and there are NO elites in the Marines. At least that's the story I listened to for several years.

V/R

posted by SangerM on December 30, 2005 5:57 PM

Sanger - You've been out of the loop on the MEU(SOC) for a bit--they've been around for at least five years.

See what happens when you move to Texas?

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 30, 2005 9:04 PM

But you're right about the Marine brass wanting nothing to do with SOF until they saw the checks being written to the Green Machine to increase Army capabilities in that arena.

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 30, 2005 9:04 PM

Hey BillT, Hello!

It's not a matter of being out of the loop, but rather that maybe that I misunderstood some of the things I heard folks talking about before I moved to Texas. I don't think I did, but then I wasn't involved directly in the data collection and reporting. Maybe what I heard pertained to the tail-end assessment of a long trial period? Hard to say...

posted by SangerM on December 30, 2005 10:24 PM

The Special OPerations Capable did stuff like raid packages, NEO operations, and tactical operations that took a bit more coordination that usually required of a Marine Battalion...

We let the really high speed low drag types do the stuff behind enemy lines...

posted by Sgt. B. on December 30, 2005 10:39 PM

About time that the Marines get on the same page as the army. When I was a light infantry grunt and out at NTC, we were doing this every time that we had a ride.

Otherwise we were using the LPCs to get from A to B.

posted by Jon The Mechanic on December 31, 2005 11:52 AM

� Dismissed, Soldier!

by John on Dec 30, 2005 | Tanks and AFVs
� Voteswagon links with: Retired Soldier: Iraq Troops Deserve Media Fairness

More militaria stuff...

Yesterday's post having hit a chord with some, here's a follow-up...

Obviously, aside from eating, you have to drink. The Castle Collection has *several* items in it related to drinking... heavily, in some cases.

Since this is a photo-heavy post, I'm going to put the rest in the Flash Traffic/Extended Entry.

Flash Traffic (extended entry) Follows... �

For example - drinking vessels...

What you see here on the left is a US Civil War era ginger beer bottle, recovered from a union campsite of the Atlanta Campaign. To the right front of that bottle is a German WWI enameled steel cup, recovered from a Verdun dugout. Behind that one, the dark tin cup is a US Indian Wars era soldiers drinking cup, provenance unknown, but probably just surplussed out of the warehouse where the Ark of the Covenant is stored, among all that other stuff. The brown enameled cup in the center is Brit WWII, but just a simple release from surplus stock. Behind that to the right is a Shultheiss beer bottle, German WWI, recovered from, I think, an Ypres dugout. Shultheiss is still brewing, btw. The small glass in front of that is a WWI German schnapps glass, from the same dugout as the enameled cup. This is another shot of that glass - which is as clean as it gets - it's etched and deformed (note it isn't round) from the time it spent buried, and possibly heat damage. The last, shiny cup on the right is Victorian-era British, also a surplus release from some forgotten storage site. Released in the 90's, mind you. 1990's.

Up until recently, the Big Piece in the Castle Assemblage of Artifacts was the Brit WWI rum jug, shown here.

The initials "SRD" stand for "Soldiers Rum Depot" or, as the soldiers preferred - "Seldom Reaches Destination" or "Suddenly Runs Dry." There has long been a tradition in Brit service of the rum ration, a "tot a day". Attached to the jug, as you would find them in the trenches, is a slightly anachronistic drinking cup - this one being Australian WWII and recovered from an outpost line machinegun position at Tobruk. In this pic you can see the "D-Broad Arrow-D" mark of Australian ownership. [Alan - if you can find the wicker wrap for one of these jugs and send it our way - we'd be even on Silly Hats (though I think the RCMP wouldn't care if you were to send cannon, tanks, or firearms this way...)]

But! The Artifact Holdings have expanded by an even bigger item - one that might perhaps explain some historical results... Many armies have used wine as a substitute for water (see the Romans, among others) as a way around using nasty local water supplies and for other perceived health benefits (aside from morale - though I'm given to understand that the Roman wine ration wasn't all that tasty, nor terribly alcoholic). The artifact also shows that "boxed" wine isn't an invention of 'Murican West Coast mass-vintners. Nope. Leave it to the French.

Say hello to the 1955-dated French Army "Vin" jug. Still serviceable, and which will be dispensing cheap wine at the Castle Blogmeet...

No shite, people.

Update: CAPT H provides the following Canadian cultural referents for SRD, which offer the very plausible explanation of SRD standing for Soldiers Rum, Demerara (Demerara being a type of rum made from Demerara sugar.)

� Secure this line!

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

by John on Dec 29, 2005 | General Militaria

Juxtapositions.

Email box pinged yesterday, with this delivered:

IMMEDIATE RELEASE No. 1333-05
December 28, 2005
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DoD Identifies Army Casualties

The Department of Defense announced today the death of two soldiers, who were supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom.

They died in Baghdad, Iraq on Dec. 26, when their Apache helicopter collided with another military aircraft in mid-air and then crashed. Both soldiers were assigned to the 1st Battalion, 4th Aviation Regiment, Aviation Brigade, 4th Infantry Division, Fort Hood, Texas.

Killed were:

Chief Warrant Officer Richard M. Salter, 44, of Cypress, Texas.
Chief Warrant Officer Isaias E. Santos, 28, of Ancon, Panama.

The incident is under investigation.

Even though Bill is usually up on things like this from his own sources, I send these along to him, as the Aviation community is small, and a tight-knit group.

Bill responded with this:

Desertion lands pilot in jail for 10 months. Spartanburg soldier abandoned his Guard unit before Iraq deployment
By CHUCK CRUMBO, Staff Writer

An S.C. National Guard helicopter pilot has been sentenced to 10 months in a military prison for deserting his unit before it deployed to Iraq.

Chief Warrant Officer Alex Pitts of Spartanburg pleaded guilty to two separate charges of desertion and one charge of being away without leave (AWOL) under the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

Pitts also pleaded guilty to "missing movement" � a military charge for not reporting when his unit left McEntire Joint National Guard Base for Fort Bragg, N.C., and eventual deployment to Iraq.

Pitts was a member of Company D, 1st Battalion, 151st Aviation Regiment. Two of the unit's pilots were killed Dec. 9, 2004, in a crash with another helicopter near Mosul, Iraq.

According to Army documents, Pitts reported for duty Aug. 10, 2004, and then "attempted to shirk combat duty by quitting (the) unit."

The Apache unit then left Aug. 13, 2004, for Fort Bragg with Pitts missing, the documents said.

Pitts resurfaced in December 2004 at Fort Hood, Texas. When Army officials learned Pitts was an aviator, he was ordered to go to Fort Bragg.

But Pitts never reached Fort Bragg. He later was apprehended at his home in Spartanburg and then sent to Fort Knox, Ky.

Pitts was to be held in the Personnel Control Facility until he could be transported to Fort Gordon for court-martial. When MPs went to Fort Knox on May 13 to pick up Pitts, who was restricted to the post, he was gone.

On May 26, authorities found him at a house he was renting in Spartanburg and took him to Fort Gordon, according to the Army report.

Prior to the call-up of his unit, Pitts spent 18 months training to be a chief warrant officer and an Apache pilot, said Guard spokesman Lt. Col. Pete Brooks.

Pitts pleaded guilty Dec. 12 to all charges at a court-martial at Fort Gordon, Ga.

Pitts also received a dishonorable discharge and was fined $100,000. If he doesn't pay the fine, Pitts will have to serve six more months in prison.

Desertion is a rare charge among National Guard members. Brooks said this is the first incident since he became spokesman for the S.C. Guard 14 years ago.

I've always thought that the sentence for wartime desertion should be "the duration of the conflict, plus 6 months, or final redeployment, whichever is later."

Just sayin'.

Bill largely agrees. What say you?

Update: Outlaw 13 provides *focus*.

As all the comments so far have been in reference to the aforementioned scumbag deserter...I'd like to put in my two cents about the late Matt Salter and his front seater Isaias Santos.
I know Matt from a previous assignment as did many of my co-workers. Matt was a great guy with a great family and his and Mr. Santos loss saddens all of us.

When you contrast their sacrifice with the cowardly actions of Mr. Pitts no amount of punishment is worthy the same he has brought on the Attack community, the Warrant Officer Corps and the United States Army. I personally would bush him to PV1 and have him ride convoy duty on RTE Irish for as long as his unit is deployed. As George C. Scott in Patton said, "You're going to the front my friend, and you may be shot and you may be even killed but I will not have this place of honor defiled by your presence." or words to that effect. (sorry didn't look up the script).

I could go on about how the system screwed up and allowed a person like Mr. Pitts through but all that would accomplish is to raise my blood pressure even more.

Mr. Santos and Mr. Salter will be waiting for us at Fiddlers Green...save us a cold one.

Thanks for the words, Outlaw. Now, at least, when people Google the Castle for Pitts... they'll get the good words about Mssrs Santos and Salter.

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

I thought deserters were shot. In this type of war isn't desertion always "in the face of the enemy"? There are no front lines and the homeland has been attacked directly. I think this sentence is far too lenient.

posted by JimC on December 29, 2005 9:25 AM

JimC - The misplaced "leniency" is the gist of what the rest of us Aviator types have been saying, but in much cruder language. And the Apache guys have been especially virulent.

We also commented on the reason desertion is such a rare charge in the Guard--and it's *not* because there haven't been instances of it. When desertion occurs, the charge is usually reduced to "missing movement"--the penalties for which are worse than those for AWOL, but entirely more lenient than those which can be prescribed for desertion in time of war...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 29, 2005 10:12 AM

I would tend to agree with John, duration plus X months, versus execution, in a case like this. But, then again, if he were to leave during battle - leaving troops unprotected or (worse even) behind on the field -- death would be the sentence I would expect. Is it fair to call them both desertion and have different sentences?

posted by Barb on December 29, 2005 10:27 AM

"Desertion in the face of the enemy" is the more serious charge.

posted by John of Argghhh! on December 29, 2005 10:30 AM

And it's the more serious charge for the reasons Barb mentioned.

In the mil world, you may redeem yourself in our eyes after an act of cowardice which affects only you, but expect no forgiveness from us for a cowardly act which results in the death of comrades. In that instance, forgiveness is God's provenance.

Sure, it's harsh. So is recovering the bodies of your friends.

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 29, 2005 10:44 AM

I'm think a year in jail and dishonorable ischarge is enough. You really don't need to throw the book at an aviator who's getting a dishonorable the military is already kicking the aviator out punishing for punishment sake's is not really the American way.This veteran understands some of our service members wind up with PTSD or just cold feet. Better to just kick em' out

posted by tommy in nyc on December 29, 2005 10:56 AM

This veteran and son/grandson-of-two-others understands that too, Tommy.

Nonetheless. If the punishment amounts to a *reward,* it's not useful. Let him serve the same time in penance his comrades are serving subject to being in harm's way.

I don't see anything un-American Way in that.

We're not talking draftees here. And this guy, to get into the cockpit of an Apache, is not only a many-times-over volunteer, he's an *expensive* many-times-over volunteer. And the $100,000 fine probably does *not* recoup the cost of flight training.

posted by John of Argghhh! on December 29, 2005 11:17 AM

I can't say it better than John and Bill have in the last few comments. I don't think it is 'throwing the book' at the man to see that he sits in prison for the deployment term plus 6-months or a year.

posted by Barb on December 29, 2005 11:39 AM

I tend to agree with Barb and John on this one. This punishment amounts to safe cold storage state-side and early release.

I think Duration +6 Months is entirely reasonable. Though, it would have sorta sucked for him if he'd pulled it in Korea.

I'm not sure what 'punishment for punishment's sake' is.. As John points out we as taxpayers invested mightily in this man for training. Wasted, all of it. And now we have to burn even more resources on him. I say punish away, and publicize the hell out of it, so we don't get any more like him.

Then again, i'm a fairly vicious human being, that thinks even 1 count of 1st degree murder is justification for the death penalty in all cases...

posted by MCart on December 29, 2005 11:41 AM

Yeah John I can see where you're coming from. It's just as you know there are several ways to get kicked out of the service where the servicemember doesn't go to jail. The last thing the troops need in a combat zone is a pilot who's not focused on the mission. A dishonorable discharge will ground a chopper pilot in the civilian world. Nobody would want the liabilty.

posted by tommy in nyc on December 29, 2005 11:46 AM

Better he turn tail now than when he is flying someone's wing. While this is the lesser of the two evils, 10 months in the stockade while his unit is pulling a 12 month tour seems insufficient. There's also the 18 months of training to take into account.

posted by cw4(ret)rogerc on December 29, 2005 1:54 PM

Tommy - Bad paper isn't the deterrent it once was--I only had one civilian (potential) employer even ask to see my DD-214.

And a military helicopter pilot does not necessarily transition into civil aviation. Someone with lots of experience and training equates to an expensive hire in the minds of a lot of operators, who are usually operating on a tight budget. Throw in flight records detailing several thousand hours and now the chief pilot starts thinking you're after *his* job...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 29, 2005 2:22 PM

As all the comments so far have been in reference to the aforementioned scumbag deserter...I'd like to put in my two cents about the late Matt Salter and his front seater Isaias Santos.

I know Matt from a previous assignment as did many of my co-workers. Matt was a great guy with a great family and his and Mr. Santos loss saddens all of us.

When you contrast their sacrifice with the cowardly actions of Mr. Pitts no amount of punishment is worthy the same he has brought on the Attack community, the Warrant Officer Corps and the United States Army. I personally would bush him to PV1 and have him ride convoy duty on RTE Irish for as long as his unit is deployed. As George C. Scott in Patton said, "You're going to the front my friend, and you may be shot and you may be even killed but I will not have this place of honor defiled by your presence." or words to that effect. (sorry didn't look up the script).

I could go on about how the system screwed up and allowed a person like Mr. Pitts through but all that would accomplish is to raise my blood pressure even more.

Mr. Santos and Mr. Salter will be waiting for us at Fiddlers Green...save us a cold one.

posted by Outlaw13 on December 29, 2005 4:05 PM

One-Three - I didn't post the e-mail chatter, but most of it had to do with the crew and their loss. The AH-64 community's not that large and both left friends in- and outside the 1-4th.

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 29, 2005 4:17 PM

I thought that a deserter was shot.

I think that 10 months, plus 6 months (who is going to choose to pay $100,000 over six months away?), is not sufficient punishment. I think he should be in for the duration plus six months. But he should AT LEAST be in as long as his unit would have been away. At that shouldn't include anytime while he was waiting for trial, either.

When the punishment doesn't involve potential death, which this doesn't, I think the time element should be much less lenient.

posted by Suzi on December 31, 2005 10:38 AM

Sir:
I am in Iraq. Have been here for two years.
I knew Mr. Santos. He is as a son to me.
There is more to this "incident" than we have heard so far. Mr. Santos and Mr. Salter were among the finest. Keep me posted, I will do the same.
jimspiri@yahoo.com

posted by Jim Spiri, Sr. on January 1, 2006 7:02 PM

My deepest condolences to CW4 Salter's and CWO Santos' family. I served with Mr. Salter on several continents defending peace. I agree with the good souls' comments ahead of me - - those two aviators are at Fiddler's Green, waitin' for us with a few cold ones.

If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace. -Thomas Paine

I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death. -Thomas Paine

posted by 1SG G on January 5, 2006 10:00 PM

� Dismissed, Soldier!

by John on Dec 29, 2005 | Observations on things Military

The militaria of Argghhh!

The Budget of Argghhh! currently not supporting acquisition of chemical-powered armaments, I have been indulging other tastes in adding to the Character of Castle Argghhh! - and with a Castle Blogmeet on the horizon, some thought to making that experience apropos to the place we have collectively built. Though, sadly, the Great Chandeliers of Argghhh! will have to remain a metaphysical construct, absent someone wanting to spend the dough to build an artifact in the Bailey that we could suspend a chandelier from... and then build the chandelier...

Where was I? Oh, yeah - *stuff*. As long-time readers know from previous posts, I like to find the little things of a soldier's life, like this schnapps glass, or this helmet, for example. I sometimes take it to extremes, too - I like dolls (flesh and blood, or plastic).

Anyway, one of the things I remember from my days as the Fire Direction Officer of Bravo, 1/22 FA, was the joy of being the Supply Officer. That is said with tongue firmly in cheek, though being SO made life as a Battery Commander simpler - I already knew how to prevent/make-up shortages and account for it all without going to jail/writing a check - and when your Battery is the size of a small battalion (350+ peak strength in garrison, close to 600 in the field when all the attachments showed up) such skillz are needful if you don't want an ugly time at your change-of-command inventory. I was short two sheets, which I made good by saving the bacon of the Target Acquisition Battery commander... I left command with no Reports of Survey, no Cash Collection Vouchers.

One of the interesting bits of kit that company-sized units used to have was the Officer's Mess Kit, a holdover from a different time in the U.S. Army. A fascinating bit of kit - it held place settings for 8 - serving platters, coffee cups, dinner and salad plates, bowls, salt and pepper shakers, etc. All in a nice fitted box. In WWII they were enameled steel, starting around the Korean War they shifted to aluminum. Sometime in the late 80's, they disappeared off of the MTOEs (Modified Table of Organization and Equipment) that lay out a unit's mission, organization, and allowable property. They were intended for use when deployed units went into semi-permanent bivouac - when engaged in mobile ops *everybody* ate out of a mess kit or box, on top of the jeep hood, or wherever else you could find a flat, semi-level surface - unless you were wolfing it down before the rain washed it all away...

As the Supply Officer of a firing battery, it was just something else to inventory and try to keep people from stealing the flatware and coffee cups from. As a Battery Commander, I only used it for fun - whenever we were deployed, such as for REFORGER, the NTC, etc, I would use it whenever the Commanding General came to visit - set for him, the DIVARTY Commander, and the S3 (more if the visit called for it) in the D/A Commander's tent, set on a red tablecloth - with candles. Hey - we're the Artillery, dammit - we lend dignity to what is otherwise a vulgar brawl...

So - at the Castle Blogmeet - expect the Officer's Mess Kit vice paper plates.

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

Heh...don' need no steenkeen' mess kits. I followed the field dictum that the troopies ate first, NCOs second, Ossifers last.

And since I was the only ossifer in the Company, and everything was usually *gone* by the time everybody else had chowed down, it made my menu real simple: a bread sandwich, i.e., a slice of white between two slices of whole wheat. Or, for variety, a slice of whole wheat between two slices of white.

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 28, 2005 10:59 AM

Looking at that picture of the redleg, I would almost have to say that he looks French.

Then I saw that he was solving a problem and I realized that he was an American.

posted by Jon The Mechanic on December 28, 2005 11:05 AM

I never ate off the OMK, either. In fact, I think I actually used it 3, mebbe 4 times. But each one was fun.

I also did the eggs to order in the MKT when duty allowed. In the field almost *no one* skipped breakfast, and it was a way to look everybody in the eye and see how things were going.

But we had better portion control than you did, Bill. There was always *something* left besides bread.

But the OMK was really only intended for those times you were encamped, vice "in the field" Like in the TAA, when we'd set up the GP Mediums for a mess tent.

You can do that stuff in an Brigade HQ. In the firing battery, we never took it to the field.

Of course, the whole Mess paradigm is different now - and I'm still not convinced it's better. You can do a hell of a lot with (and to) morale if you own your own Mess.

posted by John of Argghhh! on December 28, 2005 11:59 AM

Portion control is not a new concept, but when Post consistently shorted the entree and "made up the difference" with sundries, you just kind of sucked it up and drove on.

Usually, my Field First and the senior Drill wound up with bread sammidges, too.

On the plus side, my kids lost all semblance of pickiness, except for the creamed parsnips. And don't get me started on that...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 28, 2005 12:17 PM

Nice post on the Officer's Mess Kit. I haven't seen one of those in a dog's age but the photo was unmistakeable. The Mess can really make the Morale. There is something about us humans and taking our food together. It can be a powerful bonding agent in a unit. Some of my best recollections are of great meals with the men, even in the pouring rain under a tanker's tarp.

SGM (Ret.)

posted by BruceR on December 28, 2005 12:30 PM

See, now that is good information - I can return the gift of a Soviet hat with that sort of stuff and not run into (more) questions from the RCMP and the customs folk like I did with that tank I had my eye on for you.

posted by Alan on December 28, 2005 12:34 PM

At least aluminium (I am an Aussie!) is a nobler metal than steel, and puts you in the same class as Napoleon III (The Emperor's cutlery)

posted by SezaGeoff on December 28, 2005 5:19 PM

So, when is our infamous...er...notorious...umm..

exciting blogmeet to occur?

posted by kat-missouri on December 28, 2005 5:30 PM

So, Geoff, gonna bring some Vegemite to the Blogmeet?

posted by John of Argghhh! on December 28, 2005 5:35 PM

Thanks for the invite, John, but it sure is a power of a way to Leavenworth. However, I always travel with Vegemite. (It also comes in a Traveler's Tube now. When we were travelling around Europe with our friends for a month, the French, Germans and Italians would wonder what the hell we were putting on our bread!)
Anyway, if you are still coming to Australia at some time, I might be able to get you a meal at the Melbourne Victoria Barracks Officer's Mess, using the finest silver!

posted by SezaGeoff on December 28, 2005 7:38 PM

We're working getting that way, via SWWBO's employer or mine. The upcoming ABCA 06 exercise offers the current best chance.

I've still got some Vegemite left (a little goes a long way, and besides serving as emergency axle grease, it will last forever) - but I'll keep you in mind when it runs out.

Yes, I *like* Vegemite. Now Marmite, being Pom-made, ick.

posted by John of Argghhh! on December 28, 2005 7:50 PM

Geez, Vegemite really *is* black.

My memory's not as shot as I thought. Although there *are* certain things I wish selective memory would de-select...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 29, 2005 12:58 AM

A little Vegemite goes a long way. Bread, lotsa butter, a touch of Vegemite.

Mmmmm.

Never assimilated to the point where I could slather Vegemite like butter...

posted by John of Argghhh! on December 29, 2005 8:27 AM

I remember eating off of our issued mess kit in basic training then having to stand in line to clean them in a series of trash cans filled with boiling soapy water. Then came the MRE.

posted by Sgt Hook on December 29, 2005 9:08 AM

"I remember eating off of our issued mess kit in basic training then having to stand in line to clean them in a series of trash cans filled with boiling soapy water. Then came the MRE."

Which tasted like it had just been fished out of a garbage can filled with *cold* soapy water...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 29, 2005 9:46 AM

We had an Armoured Corps Mess Dinner in the field during RV 83, complete with silver from the mess. And our Regimental Field Mess Kit (Mess Kit is one of our uniforms up here): Armoured Vehicle Crew Suit with Regimental Ascot and Stable Belt. The Crew Suit is similar to a Flight Suit, but with fewer do-dads which might catch on significant bits such as Breech operating Levers and Triggers. Mine had a 26" zipper, but I'm much less tall than Bill, and younger.

Cheers
JMH

posted by J.M. Heinrichs on December 30, 2005 1:20 AM

Aha--I always wondered who'd gotten my hand-me-downs. They were cut 'way too small in the crotch, too...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 30, 2005 8:19 AM

Newbies worn the crewsuit for their first exercise, then switched to proper combats. Although I avoided the problem by exercising due care and close attention to details, there were known unfortunate incidents where individuals, wearing crewsuits, suffered from neglecting some of the aforementioned details when executing field sanitation techniques under time constraints.

Cheers
JMH

posted by J.M. Heinrichs on December 31, 2005 12:44 AM

That has happened to newbie *aviators*, too.

"Sir, may I borrow the Jeep?"

*wrinkling nose* "Only if you put a poncho on the seat, first. Come to think of it, use *two* ponchos..."

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 31, 2005 11:54 PM

� Dismissed, Soldier!

by John on Dec 28, 2005 | Militaria

Entropy

The year is ending on a hard note for many in the Castle circle of family and friends.

Ry's the latest. This from the comments, which I've pulled into the light.

And the Grim Reaper known as cancer has struck again. I'm gonna be incommunicado for a while. An uncle of Jess's just succumed (7pm PST) after a lengthy bout of cancer gained thru being a fireman for 20 years. I'm driving out to CA tomorrow with The Wife for a few weeks to get everything arranged and taken care of since they had expected him to turn the corner and haven't done anything.
You still have my best wishes Jack. Your father was a hero, a real salt of the Earth type. We're all diminished by his passing.

See you all when I get a computer set up at my Mothers.

There's a table set at Fiddler's Green. And music for him.

For those without RealPLayer, the MP3 is here.

And there are mixed sorrows, hopes and the story of a Lady's courage in Fuzzybear Lioness' latest telling of her travels last week...

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

by CW4BillT on Dec 28, 2005 | Something for the Soul
� Techography links with: Yol Bolsun

Sigh. We're so sorry, Jack.

Castle Contrarian Jack has had to face that hardest of all decisions.

Go, share with Jack.

Read of a man...

Jack's father.

And what you can do, if you wish.

Now is the time at Castle Argghhh! when we dance: In Memoriam.

If you don't have RealPLayer, click here for the MP3.

Flash Traffic (extended entry) Follows... �

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

'He who believeth in Me...'
It ain't forever, and that's about all I ever found that makes it bearable.
I just hope Jack takes care of himself thru-out all this. Life continues, and there still are people who depend on Ol' Jack.

posted by ry on December 27, 2005 6:31 PM

This year appears fairly determined to make itself memorable, right up to the last few days.

I'll remember you, 2005. But not favorably...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 27, 2005 6:51 PM

Made that same decision once, a long time ago. I watched my wife pass slowly and painfully from melanoma. It was the the worst decision I have been called on to make. Modern medicine can prolong a life but has not yet been able to stop the suffering with a scintilla of dignity. I determined the Lord should be consulted. Still hate that decision, but I don't regret it.
Take heart, Jack, you made the right and best decision!

posted by V29 on December 27, 2005 7:21 PM

My sister and I made the same decision, after our Dad's heart attack / surgery and subsequent coma. I agree with you completely V29 - hate the decision, hate that we had to make it and tell our brother (in another state) that it needed to be made, but don't regret it ... it was the only choice.

John - I'm sorry to hear that a new battle is brewing for your family.

posted by Barb on December 27, 2005 10:32 PM

Fortunately my mother was spared the burden of making a life-and-death decision for my comatose father (the doctor had mentioned it to her, but he passed on before the decision could be made).

But my mother and her sister made the decision to let my grandfather go. Though he'd been in a nursing home they had been deeply involved in his day-to-day life and care while he was in the last stages of Alzheimers--increasingly frail, remembering nothing and recognizing no one, frightened, confused, uncomprehending of his surroundings, out of his mind. When he developed complications, they told the Doc to make him comfortable and let nature take its course. That's what happened.

They haven't talked about it much since, but I admired them so much for allowing him to escape his suffering, instead of hanging onto the physical manifestation of a man who by then existed only in our hearts and memories. I think that sometimes there comes a point where relatives who have the power of attorney for their loved one can cross the line from caring for that loved to perpetuating a life that is already over--because of their grief or fears or inability to cope with the loss. If the relative is truly looking out for the patient's best interest, sometimes that means saying goodbye.

My heart is with you, Jack: in sympathy and empathy. My deepest condolences to you and your family

posted by FbL on December 28, 2005 12:27 AM

And the Grim Reaper known as cancer has struck again. I'm gonna be incommunicado for a while. An uncle of Jess's just succumed(7pm PST) after a lengthy bout of cancer gained thru being a fireman for 20 years. I'm driving out to CA tomorrow with The Wife for a few weeks to get everything arranged and taken care of since they had expected him to turn the corner and haven't done anything.

You still have my best wishes Jack. Your father was a hero, a real salt of the Earth type. We're all diminished by his passing.

See you all when I get a computer set up at my Mothers.

posted by ry on December 28, 2005 2:16 AM

Not that I�m trying to compete or anything, but you ain't just whistling Dixie, BillT. Looks like 2 funerals in 3 weeks for me. A childhood friend and mentor to Alcoholism/Suicide, and walking in this morning I find a good friend and a co-worker also succumbed to Cancer on the 19th. Just found out about it, but I understand the family being otherwise occupied..

BOTH gone before their time.

Here's hoping '06 is a little more pleasant. The tail end of '05 is really starting to suck for a lot of families close to me.

posted by MCart on December 28, 2005 11:10 AM

My condolences to the family.

I had the honor of living in the shadow of my grandfather (who walked on water and parted the seas when he needed to rest for a moment) for over 30 years. He was the father figure in my life and if I live to be one half the man he was, I will be happy.

He taught me everything that I needed to know in life and impressed on my the importance of God, Family, and country.

When my grandmother passed, I had the honor of standing next to my grandfather and when my grandfather passed, I took the responsibility of watching the great grandchildren (ages 5,4,3,2,2, and 1) as so that his memorial would be a solumn affair. I also didn't want to be seen crying like a baby, because I am his first male heir (he had 4 daughters) in the family and I had to be the pillar of stregnth for the family.

(At least this was my excuse for not going. I knew I would deplete the supply of tissues in 3 states if I showed and I really couldn't deal with the grief at the time.)

And now the flag at the Castle's Northern OP is at half mast for those who have passed on before us.

posted by Jon The Mechanic on December 28, 2005 11:20 AM

Yeah. My crappy year started in January, with a DNR-signing. And got steadily worse...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 28, 2005 11:21 AM

The winter wind seems to have started whistling so early this year.

I am so sorry. There is no way around what is coming - the only way is through it. I wish you, though, happy memories of your loved ones when time finally dulls the pain of losing them. Because it does, eventually :)

Godspeed.

posted by Cassandra on December 28, 2005 4:47 PM

� Dismissed, Soldier!

by John on Dec 27, 2005 | Something for the Soul

Taking the road less traveled.

As a youngster, I'd have done the same.

Now... I'd take the tea and cookies.

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

by John on Dec 27, 2005 | Something for the Soul

A note from the Exterior Guard.

Who were a tad grumpy they stayed here while we went to visit the Center of the Familial Universe.

Top 10 [Heh, they can't count) Exterior Guard "pet" peeves about the Armorer.
1. Blaming your farts on us . . not funny . . . not funny at all! ! !

2. Yelling at us for barking. Do we yell at YOU for TALKING? We're FRIGGIN' DOGS, YOU IDIOT! It's what you hired us for (and about that pay thing...)

3. Taking us for a walk, then not letting us check stuff out. Exactly whose walk is this anyway?

4. Any trick that involves balancing food on our noses . . stop it!

5. Any haircut that involves bows or ribbons. That's why we chew your stuff up when you're not home. Well, that and see the "pay thing" above.

6. The sleight of hand, fake fetch throw. You fooled a dog! Whoooo Hoooooooo what a proud moment for the top of the food chain. Butthead.

7. Taking us to the vet for "the big snip," then acting surprised when we freak out every time we go back! Dogs don't get painkillers! Okay, okay, thetre *is* hat tasty chondroitin thingy, but you get the point...)

8. Getting upset when we sniff the crotches of your guests. Sorry, but we haven't quite mastered that handshake thing yet.

9. Dog sweaters. Hello ? ? ? Haven't you noticed the fur?

10. How you act disgusted when we lick ourselves. Look, we both know the truth, you're just jealous.

11. Lay off on some of these things; we both know who's boss here (you don't see *us* picking up your poop do you ? ? ? ) Oh, speaking of poop - get rid of those automatic cat-litter boxes... those crunchy tootsie-rolls are a perk (see that "pay thing," above)!

Heh. You can see how hard the job is...

H/t, Jim C.

Update: Don't you *dare* remove those automatic toilets, or we'll blarg on your pillows! They're kewl! Signed, The Interior Guard.

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

by John on Dec 27, 2005 | Uh-oh, Scruples are loose!

Hi everybody.

I see I got snarked about posting early. Too bad. I was still nice and fixed yer formatting problem, Bill. (hint - for something formatted like the poem, put in a hard break after the blockquote).

Thanks for all the nice notes, except that nitpicking folderol from Neffi. Geez, dude, you've never sent dated Christmas presents before? There's this thing called mail, dude - you do your thing, wrap it up, give it to the nice postman, and your soldier overseas gets their gift mebbe on time, or, *early*.

I went home and stayed unplugged for family reasons, so when I came back, I find that entropy had exerted itself in the family of a friend, in a way I fear entropy may work on my family soon.

And I see in my inbox that the war ignored the wish in my last post.

U.S. Department of Defense Office of the Assistant Secretary of Defense (Public Affairs) News Release On the Web: http://defenselink.mil/releases/2005/nr20051225-12218.html Media Contact: Army Public Affairs - (703) 692-2000 Public contact: http://www.dod.mil/faq/comment.html or +1 (703) 428-0711
On the Web: http://defenselink.mil/releases/2005/nr20051225-12217.html
Media Contact: Army Public Affairs - (703) 692-2000 Public contact:
http://www.dod.mil/faq/comment.html
or +1 (703) 428-0711
IMMEDIATE RELEASE No. 1324-05
December 25, 2005

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DoD Identifies Army Casualties

The Department of Defense announced today the deaths of two soldiers who were supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom. They died in Baghdad, Iraq, on Dec. 23, when an improvised explosive device detonated near their HMMWV. Both soldiers were assigned to the Army Reserve's 351st Civil Affairs Command, Mountain View, Calif.
Killed were:
Sgt. Regina C. Reali, 25, of Fresno, Calif.
Spc. Cheyenne C. Willey, 36, of Fremont, Calif.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IMMEDIATE RELEASE No. 1325-05
December 25, 2005

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DoD Identifies Army Casualty

The Department of Defense announced today the death of a soldier who was supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Master Sgt. Joseph J. Andres, Jr., 34, of Seven Hills, Ohio, died in Balad, Iraq, on Dec. 24, of injuries sustained earlier that day in Baqubah, Iraq, when he was attacked by enemy forces during combat operations. Andres was assigned to the U.S. Army Special Operations Command, Fort Bragg, N.C.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

IMMEDIATE RELEASE No. 1326-05
December 25, 2005

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DoD Identifies Army Casualty

The Department of Defense announced today the death of a soldier who was supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Sgt. Myla L. Maravillosa, 24, of Wahiawa, Hawaii, died in Kirkuk, Iraq, on Dec. 24, of injuries sustained earlier that day in Al Hawijah, Iraq, when her HMMWV was attacked by enemy forces using rocket-propelled grenades. Maravillosa was assigned to the Army Reserve's 203rd Military Intelligence Battalion, Aberdeen Proving Ground, Md.

In some places, for some families, it's still 1944.

Now is the time at Castle Argghhh! when we dance, In Memoriam.

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

Dude- suitably chastised, dude...
heh. Hope your Christmas was as sweet as mine!

posted by Nitpickin' Neffi on December 26, 2005 5:01 PM

Knew I couldn't get pkgs out early enough on my own, so I sent my guys "giddygift" boxes. They will get more stuff soon.

Master Sgt Andres, Jr. lived about 20 miles from me. So sad...another fallen hero.

posted by Anna on December 26, 2005 6:35 PM

Prayers to the families of the soldiers.

From Gifties and Pressies and mystery packages, may the Post Office deliver us!

heh.

A couple of years ago, when the Engineer was in Kuwait, there was a HUGE cargo box being filled with gifts for the spouses and troops. It was right inside the HQ building, and we passed it on the way to a video chat with the Engineer.

It was December 15th, and the rumor had it that Franks himself or someone as high up would see to it that it got there in time for the Big Day.

I sent mine via the post office.

We all waited. The Big Day came and went, and no packages, but lots of video chats.

The Engineer's birthday is early in the New Year. He got his package on his birthday from the regular Post Office, and the Christmas packages were delivered just before Easter.

Remember I said it was a rumor? Well, it got to Dover AFB just fine. It then went on to Germany and got snowed in. Literally.

Was dug out and sent on.

Sometimes, love is all you need.

posted by Cricket on December 27, 2005 9:31 AM

Three females in two days? The antiwar crowd will have a field day with that.

posted by msg keith on December 27, 2005 11:54 AM

Keith - Interesting that the people who screamed that women should be allowed into combat arms slots because "that's where the promotional opportunities lie" are now maintaining a subterranean profile...

Cricket - My absentee ballot for the 2001 Jersey gubernatorial race was postmarked 12 October, 2001. I received it on Valentine's Day, 2002.

We used to joke that the mail plane from Tuzla to Ramstein got caught on the ground by ice storms so often that the mail qualified for the combat zone tax exemption.

Heh. Those who know, know...

posted by cw4(ret)billt on December 27, 2005 12:10 PM

� Dismissed, Soldier!

by John on Dec 26, 2005 | Global War on Terror (GWOT)

Sharing

Merry Christmas, kids!

And it really *is* Christmas Day right now, even for FbL and Barb and Sarge B. I figure *one* of us has to stay honest with the post dates--uhhh, even if it usually *isn't* me...

I've always associated Christmas with sharing things. Care package cookies, letters from kids addressed to Any Soldier, pictures of futuristic helicopters done entirely in brown crayon--you know, the *neat* stuff that doesn't come from a store, but from the heart. And I shared, because I knew that whatever I gave would come back to me, maybe in a different form, but it would always come back.

V29 received this present and he decided to share it with me. It's the kind of present that needs to be shared...

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,
Why here, I wondered, huddled there 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, "It's 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, 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, and 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��

WE ALL NEED TO PRAY FOR OUR

MILITARY PERSONNEL EVERY NIGHT!

author
Proud wife of SSG Melo
Final PCS 21 Dec 2004,
Last Mission: Guarding Freedom
New Mission: Guarding Heaven

SSG Julian S. Melo was assigned to the 1st Battalion, 5th Infantry Regiment, part of the 1st Brigade, 25th Infantry Division stationed at Fort Lewis, WA. He and twelve of his friends were killed in Mosul, Iraq, on 21 December, 2004. They'd been there about six weeks.

No dance today, though--their song has long since been played and even the echoes are gone and the thirteen have travelled the Hard Road. And a Lady who was left behind put aside her grief when the time for grieving was past and, just a short while ago, she shared...

So, if you get some quiet time today or tonight, say a prayer for those now in harm's way. Make a wish for their safe return. Share the wish with God, if you are a believer, or launch it on the wings of Hope if you aren't.

And channel comfort to all those left behind.

I have to go, now. Somebody's outside...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lex's sister passed this morning. Fuzzibear Lioness has the link. Stop in and leave him a note...

Reporting As Ordered, Sir! �

by CW4BillT on Dec 25, 2005 | Something for the Soul
� Unpartisan.com Political News and Blog Aggregator links with: Last-minute shoppers flock to stores on Christmas Eve

Merry Christmas everybody!.

To heck with it. I'm not taking the laptop with me! So, here's my Christmas post a day early. See ya on the 26th!

MOSUL, Iraq (Dec. 21, 2003) -- An M-249 Squad Automatic Weapon stands perched under the Christmas tree at the 101st Airborne Division G-6 office at the palace in the Division Main compound in Mosul Sunday night. Instead of under the tree, the presents for the members of the unit are on a cabinet nearby. Photo by Pfc. Chris Jones, 40th PAD

Peace on Earth, Good Will Towards All. And these guys and gals help keep it that way. Just as did this guy and gal.

Joe and his armored New Testament were in Bastogne that Christmas.

Flash Traffic (extended entry) Follows... �

His Christmas may have looked a lot like this... This is how Donald Burgett spent Christmas 1944 as related in his book, Seven Roads to Hell.

We were told to make ourselves at home but not to get too comfortable, for we might have to move out again at a moment�s notice. We moved by squads and platoons into houses, sheds, and cellars vacated by the civilians living there. My squad moved into a small, cave-like place built of rough fieldstone wedged tightly between two larger buildings made of the same material. The entrance was small. A man had to step over a high threshold and duck his head at the same time to get to the dark, windowless interior. Straw was piled mattress high around the four walls and the center of the floor was kept clear for small fires.

Phillips and I kicked the lumpiness out of a pile of straw near the door and settled down for a rest, leaving our musette bags on and keeping our rifles close at hand. At that moment someone stuck his head inside and yelled that we had to form up outside because we were moving out again. We fell out on the double, the order of march was given, and we moved out to the north across snow-covered fields and along little-traveled roads. Our battalion CP would remain in Savy, so we knew we wouldn�t be traveling too far.

Near the end of this march we came to a wide expanse of farm fields to the west of the north-south road we were on. A lone farmhouse stood near the north end of the fields on the east side of the road, and evergreen forests grew thick and deep to the west, then spread around to the northernmost part of the open ground. We crossed the fields, passing through a couple of barbed-wire farm fences that had been cut through at different spots to allow our passage, and entered the dark woods on the other side.

The land dropped off sharply where the fields and woods met, forming a bank about three or four feet high that ran parallel to the road we had just left. The woods were thick with low-hanging limbs that were heavy with snow. A small creek ran from north to south about a hundred yards inside the trees. We dug in along the bank overlooking the wide-open fields. The position offered us the advantage of concealment in the trees and the protective cover of the bank, plus a clear field of fire across the level farmland to the road. We dug our holes large enough for two or three men to huddle together inside for warmth. The temperature was still well below zero and more snow had fallen.

We did not particularly like being in the woods. Incoming artillery or mortar shells hitting treetops explode high above the ground like giant shotguns, driving shell fragments down into foxholes. Tree bursts are terribly effective against ground troops. People instinctively seek the shelter of trees during a thunderstorm. They have the same tendency when threatened by an attacking enemy force. Lightning and artillery fire both will kill you, and trees enhance their effectiveness. You should stay clear of trees if possible whenever artillery may be used.

We dug in so that we could bring our mortars and machine guns to bear in any direction. In addition to digging foxholes for ourselves and primary positions for our machine guns, we dug alternate positions for the machine guns so they could be moved quickly to cover the deepest part of the woods in case the enemy circled to the west and came at us from that direction. The mortars, which had to fire upward, were limited to those spots where there were openings among the trees. The woods might slow German armor but it would not hinder their infantry. We had to be ready at all times in all directions.
There we built small, smokeless fires. By small, I mean a fire small enough to hold in your two cupped hands. These fires weren�t meant to warm the whole body; they were for melting snow for drinking water, warming fingers and toes, or simply to stare into and dream about being warm. Men set about trying to get enough water to drink or to make K-ration coffee. We didn�t have iodine tablets for purifying the creek water, so we hesitated to use it for drinking.

The skies were still shrouded by thick, gray clouds and there was little wind. In the distance we could make out the sounds of shelling punctuated by occasional bursts of small-arms fire. It was fairly quiet for a war.

Men set about cleaning their weapons, straightening out their gear, checking ammo, and sharpening knives. Two men stood guard on each machine gun so the rest of us could get a little badly needed sleep after our weapons were cleaned and ready. Our weapons always came first � before eating, a trip to the straddle trench, or anything else. Care of our weapons came first because our lives depended on them. A malfunction in battle meant death.

I looked at the men around me and wondered if I looked as horrible as they did. Their faces were gaunt, with dark shadows around sunken eyes. Their jumpsuits were caked with filth and grease, and their faces were blackened by dirt and burnt powder. Some of them were sitting around the fires on their haunches, scraping the crud out of their beards with their fingernails, and then cleaning the accumulated dirt from under their nails. Others were sharpening their knives or cleaning their weapons again. We had an oddball collection of weapons that had been gathered from our own dead and wounded, the enemy, or abandoned by other outfits when they fled. We had everything from Lugers to burp guns and M1s to Mausers. Some troopers were reluctant to use German weapons because combat men can tell the difference in the sounds they make. But in close, heavy combat it doesn�t really matter.

I sat with several others near a small fire. I had packed my steel helmet full of snow and set it close to the heat to melt for my canteen. Then I took off my boots and socks and hung the socks on the end of a forked stick leaning toward the fire so they would dry. Sitting on the snow I extended my bare feet toward the welcome warmth. I kept my boots back a little way from the fire, turning them frequently so that they would dry more slowly. I had ruined a pair of high-topped leather boots by drying them too fast when I was a kid during the Depression. They had curled up and gotten hard as wood and, because they were my only pair of shoes for the year, I had to wear them that way.
Some of us were scraping and shaving the crud from our jumpsuits with razor-sharp trench knives. Most of the dirt and grease on our jumpsuits was on the front of the upper thigh. We would take hold of the cloth below the knee with one hand and then scrape upward with a trench knife, shaving the dirt, grease, and other crud off the pants leg. After repeating the process on the other leg, we�d do the same thing on any other part of our clothing we could reach and shave. It wasn�t as good as getting clean laundry but it was the best we could do.

The 969th Field Artillery Battalion, a 155mm-towed-howitzer outfit, was dug in along the edge of the woods to our east. It was made up of Negro troops. They had been on their way out of Bastogne along with everyone else trying to get away from the German juggernaut roaring through the Ardennes. General McAuliffe, being an artillery commander, well knew the value of their big guns, which were much heavier than our lighter airborne artillery. Seeing them go by, heading west with the other troops, fleeing the advancing Germans, the general sent a detail after them and brought them and their big guns back to this area. And here they had stayed.

When receiving fire missions they would sing in rhythmic cadence, loading and firing in death-dealing precision. Their accurate and heavy barrages had helped to break up nearly every major German attack in the 101st�s first two crucial days at Bastogne. However, since then they were completely out of ammo and spent their time fussing about their guns and emplacements. Their sleeping and living dugouts were elaborate affairs built of logs that were large enough to sleep several men at a time and high enough to stand upright in. They even had coffeepots. Hell, we never had it that good back in garrison. [inserts the retired 3rd generation artilleryman... and your point is?]

Most of our men had finished cleaning themselves as best they could and were busying themselves with other odd jobs, improving their foxholes, cleaning weapons again, and so on, when the miracle happened. I had just finished cleaning my forty-five and had put my socks and boots back on when suddenly we were bathed in sun-light. It was like a storybook fantasy: the fog melted, the clouds parted, and the sun broke through.

Bright sunlight reflected off the crisp, white snow, accentuating the dark shadows in the woods. The sun�s rays lanced down through the pines at sharp angles, forming bright, golden shafts that gave the forest around us a cathedral-like appearance. We weren�t in a worshipful mood, however. The sun would soon be followed by fighter-bombers, and soon the sky would fill with transport aircraft that would parachute ammo, food, and fuel to us. Soon we would be able to avenge our dead.

We laughed and joked with each other, standing there in the sunlight and gazing upward into the clear, blue sky. Some of the men farther back in the woods put their hands into the sunbeams, turning them over and over as if they were bathing them, staring at them as though they could feel the light itself. Others held their weapons over their heads and danced fancy little jigs in and out of bright, sunlit clearings. Most of us frolicked and gamboled about like kids, with much backslapping. A few sat hunched over, staring silently into the small fires with grim smiles on their lips.

Yes, Hans and Fritz were going to get theirs. They had come down on us with tanks, self-propelled guns, artillery, and waves of infantry. Soon it would be payback time. They had ridden us down in their huge metal monsters, driving into and over our positions, crushing the life out of many of our comrades. We wanted revenge.

When we finally tired of gamboling around we sat or stood and listened for the drone of aircraft engines that would herald the coming of our fiyboys. At last we were able to make out the vibrant, deep-throated engines of C-47s. The sluggish old �Gooneybirds� came over in a low formation to the south of us, releasing their payloads over the Bastogne area. The Gooneybirds were fat, slow, and coated from nose to tail with dull, olive drab military paint but they were beautiful � just plain beautiful.

BASTOGNE by Olin Dows Belgium, 1944

We watched as multitudes of colored parachutes blossomed in the clear air and settled earthward. We knew that thousands of hostile eyes deep in the shadowy woods and wrecked villages surrounding Bastogne also watched the sky fill with �chutes. What were their thoughts Their numerically superior armor, artillery, weapons, and manpower couldn�t beat us when we were down, so how could they hope to beat us when we were up? Surely they must have known they had lost. Surely they knew we would make them pay for the atrocities and crimes they had committed.

Some bundles without �chutes were kicked out of the planes and plummeted straight down. The sky was full of incoming supplies and we cheered as the C-47s continued to roar overhead. The air was also black with bursts of flak, and tracers lanced upward, crisscrossing and following the sluggish, unarmed C-47s, occasionally converging on a crippled plane trailing smoke. We later learned that our C-47s had run a gauntlet of antiaircraft spanning the entire Bulge area before they reached Bastogne. Many were hit and several went down in flames, their crews either killed or captured by the enemy. The pilots and crews didn�t waver in the face of this onslaught; they stayed in formation, maintaining their course at a highly vulnerable altitude. Courage was the norm for the day.

The flights continued throughout the rest of the day, with supplies coming in by the ton. We watched, fascinated, as the sky filled again and again with hundreds upon hundreds of colored �chutes. We watched until evening came and the sky began to darken.

Flights of P-47 �Thunderbolt� fighter-bombers also roared overhead. The first flight to arrive on the scene circled in low and began strafing and bombing the German tanks and troops that ringed Bastogne. After their bombs and ammo were used up they would climb to a higher altitude and circle our perimeter looking for and locating new enemy targets. They radioed this information to an air-ground liaison officer who accompanied the division into Bastogne. The liaison officer would then radio the target information to fresh flights of fighter-bombers en route to the area. The previous flight would then head back to its forward airfield in France to rearm and refuel so they could return to the fray.
Thanks to these tactics, the newly arrived fighter-bombers did not have to search for targets. They knew exactly what and where their targets were before they arrived on the scene. We cheered as our flyboys pounded the Germans with a vengeance.

The fighter-bombers kept up their attacks all day. Columns of black smoke mushroomed up from count-less spots from the woods around the 101st�s perimeter as our airmen blasted enemy tanks, self-propelled guns, trucks, ammo and fuel dumps, and artillery emplacements, At last the flights ceased and the airplanes grew quiet. Off in the distance we could still hear the sounds of battle. The Germans wanted Bastogne bad. They knew they didn�t have much time left. If they were to conquer Bastogne, it would have to be soon, very soon. What could they try that they hadn�t already tried? The only thing left was to mass their forces and mount an all-out attack at what they figured to be the weakest point in our perimeter.

It was getting dark fast. We set our guards out for the first watch and the rest of us settled into our holes. Few of us were able to sleep. We were like kids on Christmas Eve: excited and full of anticipation. Excited because the weather had at last broken. Filled with anticipation at the prospect of putting the weapons, ammo, fuel, and food dropped to us to good use.

We also heard that several doctors had been flown in by glider. That meant our wounded would be able to get the treatment they so badly needed. Word also filtered through the ranks that General Patton�s spearhead 4th Armored Division was on its wa