REMFs

Reading Greybeard’s post, “The Purple One”, struck a nerve.

http://pitchpull.blogspot.com/2020/06/the-purple-one.html

My youngest son, a 1/ 4^th ID Medic, died, age 41, in 2019 from the long term effects of his service injuries. He was medically discharged with an 80% disability that was upgraded to 100% retroactive. He never received a Purple Heart.

The header picture is a vehicle he was driving that hit a Soviet era mine. Guess the scrapes and bruises didn’t count.

He made dozens of trips out of the compound with the Infantry. Once the vehicle he was in was hit and set on fire. The hatch was jammed. He, and the others, barely escaped. Guess his burns were too minor to count.

Once he was blown backwards into his hut by a rocket exploding outside.

Even though he treated wounded soldiers while taking incoming fire, he was never awarded a Combat Medic Badge.

Why? His unit leadership didn’t put him in for them.

Why didn’t they? My theory is this. My son, a handsome man (took after his mother, not me) was a moral married man. He had no interest in cheating on his wife. The senior leadership of his unit was female. He told me that his 1^st Sgt once propositioned him.

I think he was very good at his job. His “brick” showed several Army Commendation Medals and Army Achievement awards. One commendation was from a Special Forces detachment he was with for a month. A plumber before entering the service, he built a small facility where wounded people could be washed from scrounged materials.

He was recommended two times for promotion to Sergeant while in Afghanistan but never promoted. This I learned from his closest friend at my son’s funeral. His friend also confirmed there was a lot of sexual conduct going on in their unit. This was seconded by another Medic at his funeral. 

   

His proudest token was a Challenge Coin given to him by the then SgtMaj of the Army.

He did take delight in pointing out he had Good Conduct Medals, an award I never earned.

Despite all this, he loved the Army and wanted to stay in. He was told he had to attend NCO Academy to be promoted, but couldn’t attend because of the support boot he wore on his left leg. His response, “Fuck you, I did two tours in Afghanistan wearing this boot”, probably didn’t help his case.

In civilian life his firearms closet would probably equip an infantry squad.

Back to the point. Many men and women deserved to be recognized who weren’t because the ones in the rear with the gear didn’t get it done. What they were good at was giving each other awards. I truly loath those REMFs.

Now for some balance. Many served in administrative jobs and did their best. Many had no choice; that is where the Army placed them. An example; a cook who never left Fort Dix. Many went through hell because of abusive, or incompetent, or both, superiors. Those who soldiered on and did their duty will always have my respect.

The phrase, “All gave some, some gave all” isn’t a cliché to me.

Bastards Likely Will Get Us Killed

Hanlon’s Razor

 “”Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity.

Or as attributed to Napoleon,

Never ascribe to malice that which can be explained by incompetence.

Trying to make sense of what is happening at the senior leadership level of our Armed Forces is difficult. If someone set out to render military units ineffective without eliminating them entirely, a better scheme than what is occurring now would be hard to construct.

Col. David Hackworth hammered on the theme of perfumed princes. Were he alive today, he might describe the current situation as civilian social justice warriors, to whom feelings supersede facts, meet careerists, who have never had a conflict with what is good for the service, and what is good for their careers. Of course he would state it much better than me.

One quote attributed to him can find parallels in most societies over the course of recorded history.

Our generals talk a good game about taking care of their grunts, and the majority of our Beltway politicians bay with moralistic fervor about how they, too, support the troops.

Another is true today.

The old saying that war is a racket has taken on an even more shameful meaning.

Then there are the harshly true word of Rudyard Kipling’s “Tommy”.

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,

The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."

The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,

I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

    O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";

    But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,

    The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,

    O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,

They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;

They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,

But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!

    For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";

    But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,

    The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,

    O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep

Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;

An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit

Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

    Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"

    But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,

    The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,

    O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,

But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;

An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,

Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;

    While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",

    But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,

    There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,

    O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:

We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.

Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face

The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.

    For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"

    But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;

    An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;

    An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

These fools never learn. Over the centuries, more than one nation’s army has said, “Fuck this shit”, and just walked away. I wonder how close ours is to that point?

Salute

Recently I’ve started rendering a hand salute during the National Anthem. Seems to make folks around me uncomfortable. That is exactly my intent.

All veterans are authorized to do so.

http://www1.va.gov/opa/pressrel/pressrelease.cfm?id=1609

Being a veteran isn’t what defines me. Served three years (Army Engineer) from 1963-1966, mainly in Germany. No combat. So, no big deal. Pay American Legion dues but that’s about it. Have the greatest respect for those who made it a career. I wasn’t career material; hot temper, no patience, and little restraint. Still, I got out as an E-5. Lucky I was an Engineer.

Nowdays, less than 1% serve. Percent who have served is about 9%. Per the census bureau, there are around 23.5 million vets out of a population of about 303 million in the USA. That number will be dropping drastically in the years ahead.

Lots of folks have taken a free ride. I feel obliged to remind them when I can.

My youngest son is an Army 68W “Health Care Specialist”. i.e. Medic. I’m in awe of what the Army is today. I used to complain about lugging two duffel bags. He carries that much weight with his combat load.  From what I see and hear, far less “slack’ and much higher standards than anything I experienced.  He is also  in much better physical shape than I ever was. Some things don't change. I drove a truck manufactured in 1944. His ambulance is a M113.

Plan to continue the hand salute business. To me, it is almost a political statement. Or, my sister might say, my usual poking people with a stick.

Dumb Officers

Credit, or blame, Old NFO http://oldnfo.blogspot.com/, for this entry. One of his Mondaze Humor jokes prodded some reminiscing about Ensign Montgomery’s cousin.

Lt. Stanley C_____ was the worst officer, perhaps worst soldier, I ever met. He was inflicted on the US Army by the University ROTC program. He was devoid of any common sense. Our West Point graduate Company Commander was often beside himself trying to make something of Lt C______. As a member of the enlisted swine, I simply sat back and watched. Once, when he was inspecting the Guard Mount, I deliberately mixed up my General Orders. He didn’t notice. For civilian readers information, nothing in any branch of the military is more basic than General Orders.

He arrived with his new bride, S______, whose morals soon became the talk of the post. I picked up a few dollars showing films, mainly old TV Shows, at the Officers Club, on the weekends we were in garrison. Seems I was invisible as nobody curbed their tongues around me.

One story had Major A_____ seeing Lt C______ sitting on the steps of his quarters, crying. Seems he came home to find a brother officer in bed with S______. Brother officer kicked Lt C______ out of his own quarters then went back to his activities with S______.

Once, during our three day Combat Proficiency Test, about a half dozen Special Forces types pulled up to our perimeter. They had borrowed a forestry crew tractor pulling a trailer and were trying to drive into our area. We pointed out to Lt C______ these “civilians” were ringers. Got chewed out for our efforts and order to allow them to pass. When the umpires found all the chalk marks on our generators and water trailers, we were flunked, and had to repeat the damn test.

After several instances where his orders nearly got people killed, and one Bridge Erection boat sunk, a job was created for him, Assistant Post Coordinator. Which he screwed up. Somehow, the powers that were managed to boot him back to CONUS (along with S_______).

Lt C_______, and the Army, was fortunate the balloon never went up. He would have been our first casualty, guaranteed.

I’ve never kept track of him but suspect he is now a czar in the Obama Administration.

Homeward Bound

Wednesday should be the day the Medic will be home from Afghanistan, Army officials have informed FDIL (favorite daughter in law), when she called to invite me to the Welcome Home ceremony.

It is my deepest desire every person with a loved one in harms way will be able to feel what I am feeling. Thank you everyone for your prayers for his well being.

The future? At the current level of commitment, he will go back in a little over a year. Right now, we will enjoy having him home.

Won’t go weasely and say words can’t………..Etc. I AM PROUD OF HIM.

You Will be Sorry

Driving around my small town this Memorial Day, I saw no more than twenty flags being flown at residences without permanent flag poles. In the business district, four flags displayed. Seems to me few of our citizens see themselves as “stakeholders” in the country as a whole.

Shamelessly taken from Thunder Tales http://thundertales.blogspot.com/2011/05/whoda-thunk-it.html

Is this Gallup Poll
http://www.gallup.com/poll/147839/Military-Personnel-Veterans-Give-Obama-Lower-Marks.aspx
He looks at some of the data, especially the prior service by age distribution.

My solution? Bring back the draft, universal, male and female. No exemptions, Yale or Mississippi Delta, Berkeley or community college. Criminal record? That is a tough one. One year service, no GI Bill, auxiliary force. Basic military skills.

We need to get back to where being a citizen is more than a birth certificate. We need it for a our basic security. Does anyone think we can fight a world war in our present state of readiness? Or repel an invasion? Do it without nukes?

Military service creates a sense of unity, of cohesion, of mutual respect. I have a first cousin, a screaming Massachusetts Liberal Democrat, who did a hard Vietnam tour as a dog handler. Saw the elephant up close and personal. Despite the gulf in our political beliefs, we can communicate and cooperate.
It is both being vets that makes this possible. There is a shared belief and shared commitment to our nation, hokey as that might sound to some.

We, as a nation, are losing our common ground. We are fragmented into our communities of interest. Universal military service could bridge that. My opinion; your mileage may vary.

TSA Second Thoughts

Quick trip to Detroit yesterday and back this morning. At DIA, they had both the scanners and the metal detectors in use. I opted for the detector line. Using my bumbling “just fell off the turnip truck” persona (Yeah, friends and family; not hard for me to do, yada, yada, yada) was able to engage three TSA Screeners in conversation. They rather enjoyed educating my dumb ass. Two things I picked up were, one; they believe they are keeping everyone safe and, two; the heat is on about the pat downs and they expect something to “come down from up above”. Attitude was about what I remember from MPs circa 1960’s. Didn’t see anyone being frisked.

At DTW this morning, the security check point I went through had both types of scanners. The full body type were turned off and the TSA people were using them for leaning posts.

My youngest is on his way home from Afghanistan this morning for two week R&R. This has provoked some contrarian thinking on my part. (or just being contrary; take your pick)

We have our troops out in shit holes around the world keeping the fanatics pushed back from our shores and too off balanced to do us major harm. Their daily lives make the few minutes of discomfort going through security trivial. I can hear my old First Sergeant saying, “You have all been drafted into the War on Terror. Quit your bitching”!

This isn’t as defense of TSA. That organization should be terminated and replaced with something else. Maybe contract it out to El Al. They seem to know what they are doing.

Taking the Oath

Old NFO, http://oldnfo.blogspot.com/, has a wonderful post, “Welcome Home.” Worth the visit and nothing I can improve upon.

A father/son pair I know are THE GREATEST PATRIOTS. Think Ronald Reagan was nearly a demigod. Strong conservatives; just ask them. Neither has come within a mile of a recruiting station. The father has all kinds of excuses for skipping the draft. He has made certain his sons didn’t serve but, they applaud those who do.

One Veterans Day the son said to me, “Thank you for your service.” The first person to ever say that to me in the forty plus years since serving in the Army and it comes from a hypocritical puke! Wanted to punch him. Instead I said, “Your Welcome,” and walked away.

I respect anyone who raised their right hand, took the oath, and fulfilled it. Whether they were on the tip of the spear or a cook at a stateside training post, they have my respect and heartfelt thanks.

A lot has been said about the treatment of the Vietnam veterans. Fair enough, it needed examined. The vets who really got the backhand of their country were from the Korean conflict.

We seem to be doing better as a country in our treatment of our service members. Hopefully, my son now in Afghanistan will find his fellow citizens more appreciative of his service in the years ahead.

As to those who could have served and weaseled out, they will never have my respect. Probably won’t matter to them but it matters to me.

Afghan Blog - Youngest Son

Youngest son is currently without Internet. We may see some postings when he gets access. He is able to call home (Skype). As of this morning he was fine, per wife, and, good news to this father, in the rear with the gear.

Afghanistan Blogger

Son in Afganistan has started blogging. You can read it at

http://99boredom1bullshit.blogspot.com/

Please stop by and say hello.

Screw You, Overseas Warfighter

Lots of chatter today about States asking for waivers from the MOVE act and suggestions to contact the Pentagon and/or the Department of Justice.

You can read about it at http://pajamasmedia.com/blog/at-doj-military-voting-rights-hang-in-the-balance/

Far better to put the heat on locally. I live a few blocks from my State Senator and have had many conversations with her. This is the email I sent her.

Dear Senator Hodge,
I am a Brighton resident with a son deploying to Afghanistan.
The MOVE Act signed into law Oct 2009 mandates a minimum of 45 days in which a overseas absentee ballot be sent out. The military had asked for 60 days. There is a provision for states to request a wavier in case of emergency. I am appalled to find Colorado is one of twelve states to request a wavier. What emergency do we have in this state that will prevent timely mailing of absentee ballots?

I will be sending similar emails to my state representative and making a personal visit to my County Clerk and Recorder. This should be a bottoms up issue, not top down.

Military Flying Story

Old NFO has some great military flying stories. Us mud dabbers can only read them and be amused. http://oldnfo.blogspot.com/

An Army flying story circa 1965 involves the rude comeuppance of a certain Captain of Aviation, T, by a Private First Class of Engineers, O.

Said PFC was a two year draftee from Texas who grew up in a crop duster family. By the time the Army called, he had many hours of low level flying experience. In typical Army fashion, he became a combat engineer while the Army was spending $18,000 or so to teach people to fly.

The PFC had a medical problem that involved a long wait for an exam. When there was an exam opening in Frankfurt, our unit was in the field, hours away. A decision was made to fly him to Frankfurt in a L-19/O-1.

Captain T was assigned the mission. His favorite diversion was scaring his passanger by pulling back on the mixture control until the engine ran rough. He would then put on a panic act until the aircraft was about 200’ AGL. Turning his head, he would say, “I’ve done everything I can think of. Can you do something”? He did this in the vicinity of the Main River, which PFC O knew went past Frankfurt.

The L-19/O-1 was soon about two feet above the Main River. PFC O stayed at that altitude all the way to Frankfurt, lifting over barges, and going under bridges.

PFC O said there was some initial struggle over the controls but most of the trip was made with Captain T’s hands in his lap. He said there was a large amount of vocalization over the intercom, orders being issued, and so forth, which he ignored, wanting to concentrate on his navigation.

Some veterans may remember the “Overseas Weekly“. PFC O was the subject of an article. The incident as reported involved alcohol, public urination in downtown Munich while totally nude, and his clothing being found in some civilian’s automobile. While he was a willing worker, some of the unit officers and NCOs believed PFC O had an “attitude” problem. Perhaps this is what confounded Captain T.

Memorial Day

In the Northwest corner of Colorado is a private cemetery on ten acres left from an old homestead. Buried there is my father and eight of his siblings. Yesterday we gathered to bury the ashes of one of his sisters. Around forty people attended.
All his brothers who were physically able served in WWII including one who was nearly blind in one eye. Most of his sisters married servicemen. Of the men in the yesterday group maybe two out of three are veterans. Among my father's nieces and nephews, several have children serving or who have served.

The pictures are of what remains of the five brother's sleeping quarters for two or three Colorado winters during the Great Depression.

What I want to say to those who want to take away our freedoms, our way of life; to subjugate us, our children, our clans is this: We know where we came from, we will fight; and we will prevail. Don't fuck with us!

God bless all who have fought for this country and the freedoms we enjoy; have served in our armed forces; or have kept their homes intact waiting for their warriors to come home.

Military Traditions

Ah, military traditions. Youngest son recently sent me a text message, “Today’s Army puts a whole new meaning to SNAFU”.

My reply was along the lines of TRADITION; all militaries from time immortal; welcome to the brotherhood of arms. Perhaps he is correct. This Army has powerful computers not available in the past.

My late father returned from WWII duty in India on a Liberty ship via Cape Hope. The trip took fifty eight days. At some point in the journey the bow started splitting. The ship sailed the rest of the way stern first. The trip was much longer than anticipated and they started running out of food. While they didn’t starve, they were hungry. Now that is a SNAFU!

My more modest SNAFU was aboard the General Rose.(Pictured) Our nine day trip took fourteen days. The powers that were never bothered to tell us lowly enlisted swine why. Perhaps it was the North Atlantic in January. The food never stopped but our smuggled alcohol supply proved inadequate. If I wanted to feel bad about my status, the 200 or so airman aboard provide endless entertainment. A most unhappy group who thought a troop ship was beneath them. Of course, we tried to cheer their spirits.

Youngest son will survive, bitching and complaining like the millions before him. Seriously, I feel his pain. It is like being stuck in a long line of traffic, behind the slowest common idiot, with no hope to escape.

New Buttons Needed

Youngest son was awarded the Army Commendation Medal for his work on a three week training exercise. The exercise had almost triple digit casualties; accidents, shock, hypothermia, heart attacks, etc. Nearly two score needed to be air lifted. This was his first real test dealing with real people and not training androids. Seems he passed the test!

Proud alone doesn’t describe how I feel. More like humble.

His reaction? “That is my job and it is 50 promotion points.”

Queen Juliana, the Netherlands

This is a story for my Blanket Head buddy who thinks my service time focused only on intoxication and low pursuits.

The Netherlands (Holland) in the 1960’s was a peaceful place. This is how a friend and I happened to speak to Queen Juliana.

We were stationed in Germany. I had an old beater English Ford that we took on leave with the intention of visiting Holland and Denmark. We traveled back roads and, being highly trained pathfinders, managed to get completely lost. We came across a huge house, maybe a palace, and stopped along side the road. We expected such a structure would be on our map. As we sat there, two ladies on bicycles rode up to our car and asked if we needed help. We explained we had been lost but thought we now knew our location. The ladies confirmed we were correct and peddled on up the road. Behind them were four very large men on bicycles. Three passed us and one stopped.

About this time, it dawned on my travel partner we had just spoken to someone important. The gentleman on the bicycle gave confirmation. He told us one of the ladies was the Queen. He also looked at our papers and identification cards. We didn’t argue.

We watched the group continue up the road and then turn into an entrance. What gracious people the Dutch are. The Netherlands was always my favorite leave or pass destination.

Proud Parent 68W Again

Received news youngest was promoted to PFC E3 three months early.

Ain't It A Bitch

Youngest son is in his final week of 68W Medic training; two weeks in the field doing simulated combat conditions.

At the start of his time in San Antonio, the temperature was 100+ day after day and the area was in a deep drought. Off to the field and?

Next week he gets to come home to his family but this week I imagine is pure misery.

Soldiers

Youngest son passed basic and is now in Texas to be trained as a medic.
The ceremony was impressive; scripted and executed to perfection. What a difference from my experience at the same post 46 years ago!

Turns out I needed a hankie. I noticed several grey heads with a similar problem. Towards the end of the ceremony their company commander had them repeat their oath.
Everyone in uniform I saw was repeating it at the same time.

I was shocked by a statistic in the CSGT MAJ's speech. He said less than 1/2 of 1% of our citizens serve in the military.

Everyone in my son's platoon made it and their DI was named the outstanding DI for the cycle.

I need some time to mull over this experience and the paths my thoughts are taking. Perhaps a few posts will result.