Don’t You Hate Those Sappy Email’s From Family and Friends?

I sure do. But, my Uncle Tom hit me with this one and tears welled up. I’m so thankful for the men and women in uniform that serve this country. God bless them all!

Largest Re-enlistment Ceremony - Ever
I'm sure you already know about this. It was shown over and over on TV, right?

OK, so maybe it wasn't shown over and over, but surely it was shown on TV at least one time, wasn't it ?

This was the largest re-enlistment ceremony ever held in military history. The ceremony was held on the 4th of July, 2008 at Al Faw Palace, Baghdad , Iraq . General David Petraeus officiated. This amazing story was ignored by the 'mainstream' media.



For those who have been in the Al Faw Palace, you'll have a better appreciation of the number of people crammed around the rotunda supporting the re-enlisting soldiers.

American men and women volunteering to stay longer in Iraq, so that when we leave, the new democracy will have a chance of surviving, is the exact opposite of what the media wants you to think about Iraq. If only a bomb had killed 5 civilians in a marketplace - now that's the kind of news the media is eager to tell you about.

A pizzeria in Chicago donated 2000 pizzas that were made and shipped to Baghdad , and were delivered on the 4th.

The media did report that 2000 pizzas were sent to Iraq on July 4th... The only part they left out of the report was the event for which the pizzas were sent.

I can't help but wonder... What would the opinion of Americans be if they weren't getting such obviously biased 'news?'

Pass this on and we will do the work for the Media

I Fought The Law And The Law Won

I have never been to jail, officially, though I have had some very close calls. I wasn’t what you would call a juvenile delinquent; I just had a knack for running afoul of the law with no ill intent. I thought it would be fun to share a few of my more interesting run-in’s with the man with the badge:

Age 5
I was fascinated by all things mechanical, and also the labor and laborers involved in work. Fire engines, garbage trucks, garbage men, mechanics, and gas station attendants. I especially liked those guys in the snappy hats with a rag in their pocket, filling up the car and cleaning the windshield. I decided to imitate them, filled up a large jug with water, went outside and proceeded to pour the water into the gas tank of a neighbors car. Not good. The neighbor saw me, ran outside and grabbed the jug. He yelled at me and asked me where I lived. I knew instantly I was in big trouble, and figured I could avoid a harsh penalty and keep my parents from finding out by lying. I told him I didn’t live here and was visiting my friend. He asked me where my friend lived, and I pointed to my own house. Oops. He walked me to my house knocked on the door, and hell was unleashed.

Age 10
My friends and I loved firecrackers. Don’t all boys? Problem was they were illegal where we lived- not only in the state of Maryland, but we were also on a military base- where they are always illegal everywhere. Double illegal. We had accessed the contraband from a boy that recently moved into the area from California (where everything is either legal or ignored) and bought the precious materials with pockets full of quarters. We devised a cool, non lethal bomb- we used Elmer’s glue to attach a ring of firecrackers around a large raw egg, wrapping the fuses together and up to the top, and gluing a small paper stand on the bottom of the egg. We called it the Scrambled Egg Bomb. Theoretically, it would explode and spew quickly half-cooked egg in all directions. We thought it would be fun to place these on peoples porches, light it up, knock on the door, and plaster the place with egg (every house there had storm doors with screens and people didn’t open the door so we thought there would be no danger to people. 10 year old thinking). The very first house we tried it at we were busted. The plan was Clint would stay on his 10 speed bike and hold up mine and Robby’s so we were ready to blow. Robby lit the fuse, I watched intently, and then looked up to do the knocking. As I extended my hand I noticed there was a very large US Marine with his arms crossed looking down at us through the screen. RUN! Robby and I made a mad dash for our bikes, the Marine made a mad dash for us, and we barely escaped. Or rather, Clint and I barely escaped. Robby had left his bike in first gear. He was grabbed from behind and taken down. Clint and I kept going. We didn’t stop until we were far away, then stopped, congratulated ourselves on our escape, and then went back to turn ourselves in. We couldn’t leave Robby to face death on his own. By the time we got back the MPs (Military Police) were already there. They were men of honor, and appreciated so much that Clint and I came back to turn ourselves in they let us all go with a warning (and confiscated our explosives, eggs and matches).

Age 11
I thought it would be really cool to attach some fishing wire from my second floor window, down to an abandoned building across a rarely used access road for the sole purpose of sending my GI Joe’s sliding down the wire for Special Forces missions. It was there for days, undisturbed, until a military police officer knocked on our front door. My mom answered it, and then called me to join her. He was a very nice man, pleasant smile, and had been driving along that rarely used access road I mentioned. I knew it without asking since he had a nice perfectly straight cut across his forehead, courtesy of my zip line and his open air jeep.

Age 12
I walked home from school with my best-friends Clint and Robby, and got to my front door only to realize I had forgotten my house key that morning. Dad was at work, mom at work (out shopping) and my sister was at a friends. Clint and I thought it would be a good idea to borrow his dad’s ladder, and have me climb up to the second floor in the back and climb through my window that was almost always left unlocked. As I climbed up, a man passing by walking his dog looked up at me and jokingly said “pulling a second floor job, huh?” I had no idea what that meant, said “Um- yea” and climbed in my window. 15 minutes later two police officers knocked on the front door.

Age 13
It was Christmas day, 1979, and it was warm. Very warm. That morning I had received a very cool gift- a small rubber raft, 2-seater, and Clint and I headed out in the afternoon to give it a test run. We rode our bikes to Burba Lake, blew up the raft, and christened it with our canteens of water. Off we went, an oar each, and explored the lake. Shortly after reaching the small island in the middle, and watching Clint debark to explore the magical place on foot, I left shore thinking it would be funny to leave him stranded for a bit. As I turned the boat around I noticed two police cars with lights on, and two MPs staring at me. One- the officer- with a scowl on his face, arms crossed, the other- the grunt- waving me in. I reached the shore (Clint still on the island, now crouching down hiding behind some rocks) and the senior officer proceeded to rip me up and down for my illegal act. He asked me if I was stupid. He asked me if I was smart enough to read. He asked my why I couldn’t follow orders. He pointed out the signs that clearly stated NO SWIMMING and NO BOATING. I told him, sir, that the sign didn’t say NO BOATING. He was infuriated, insisting they did, and I kindly insisted they didn’t. He marched a hundred yards or so, placed himself in front of one of the signs, read it, and marched back with an awful look on his face. He informed me that while the sign may not actually say NO BOATING, there was most certainly NO BOATING allowed. He ordered me to deflate my raft and leave immediately. I told him I had a friend on the island I needed to pick up since there was NO SWIMMING. That made him very happy- to have to stand there and wait while I rowed back out to the island and picked Clint up. The signs at Burba Lake now include NO BOATING.

Age 16
Gaithersburg High School had an annual trip to the seashore for its best biology students. I was one, and so excitedly packed the morning of the trip, and headed out with 30 or so class mates for the overnight camping trip. The focus was on marine biology, and we spent the two days digging up creatures from the sand, taking a short boat trip on a research vessel, and having tons of fun with our friends. We had some free time so a group of us headed out to explore the abandoned forts and bunkers from WWII. The US had built a string of these along the Atlantic coast to defend against German U-Boats. We found one that looked promising- there were metal bars keeping out intruders, but two of the guys with us were so skinny they could slip through. They had a flashlight, and yelled back to us the play-by-play of what they saw as they explored. We had hit GOLD. The explorers called back that they had found old uniforms, books, pens and all sorts of military-type stuff. They brought out armloads, and we all divvied them up. When we got back to camp the police were waiting for us. Turns out it was a museum designed to look exactly like a bunker in 1942. The guys had tripped an alarm, and the police saw us walking back to camp and met us there.

Age 18
I purchased a brand new motorcycle and thought I was the coolest. I rode it everywhere- in all weather. Sun, rain, even snow. Yes. One winter night riding home from work I was pulled over for driving with an expired registration. Very expired. So expired that the policeman said he needed to impound the bike. He told me to wait there as he needed to leave, and another police officer along with a tow truck would be there shortly. I moved a bit away from the road, and sat down with my back to a building to escape the wind. It was so cold I tucked my arms inside my jacket to wait. I put my head back against the wall and closed my eyes to rest and wait for whatever was next. A few minutes later I head a voice, shaky, scared sounding, and very loud- “Take your hands out of your jacket- VERY…SLOWLY.” I sat up and saw a young police officer, weapon drawn, pointing right at me with a very concerned look on his face. Great. I’m gonna die for not renewing my registration.

Well that’s it- after that last one I was pretty much scared straight.






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Storms And Rumors Of Storms

Yesterday a large weather band had it’s eye on the South. Our local weather reporters were predicting terrible storms and conditions ripe for tornadoes. Schools in our area were cancelled shortly after lunch, and parents all over were scrambling to get home or contact friends to ask them to watch after their kids.

Since Michelle and I work at home, no problems on our end. Except one- I had an important meeting offsite with a client at 2PM- right at the start of when the storms were supposed to hit our area. Michelle and I chatted about it and I decided to move the meeting to another day.

The last several years, on the days the worst storms hit and my wife and kids have had to hide in a closet, I have been out of town. Michelle remarked that I always seem to be away when the bad ones hit, so I thought it would be better to stay home yesterday.

2PM came and went and besides some rain we got nothing. Unfortunately in places like Mobile AL and other areas in MO and GA, they didn’t have a false alarm. Storms and tornadoes hit hard with loss of life and property. It's a risk that comes with living in this area. We don’t have earthquakes (well, not for 100 years or so), hurricanes, landslides, avalanches or insane heat or cold extremes. We have tornadoes. That’s our curse here in the south. That and a few other things like humidity, grits and civil war reenactments.






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I'm A Bit Upset Right Now...

I am apologizing in advance for going political again.

Yesterday the US Senate acted like weak-kneed traitorous fools. The Senate Foreign Relations Committee approved a resolution condemning President Bush's surge plan in the war in Iraq. It will show up for a vote soon.

It is a non-binding resolution that will give our enemy hope. It is a slap in the face to our President and troops. It is unpatriotic and cowardly.

Before you assume my stance on the war, please be sure you clearly understand my view point: A non-binding resolution is NOTHING. It means NOTHING. It does NOTHING except push a political agenda and weaken the President and our armed forces.

The US Congress should do one of two things:

1. Embrace the plan, support it, and stand on the side for victory in the war on terror

OR

2. State clearly their opposition to the plan, and vote to de-fund the war in Iraq

There are only two sides to a line drawn in the sand. Those that are backing a non-binding piece of paper with words that say "We don’t like you. We don’t like what you want to do. We won't do anything about it, but we just want to let you know we don't like it one bit" aren’t even near the line. They are somewhere on another planet not doing anything that requires a spine.

Victory or defeat. Support or oppose. Back our President and troops for victory, or vote to de-fund the war in Iraq, end it now and bring our troops home. Those are the only choices for a true patriot- one willing to act on their beliefs.

Back to happy things now….

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24 Fever…Embarrassingly, I Just Got It

When 24 first premiered on Fox a couple years ago, I watched it and enjoyed it greatly. I then missed the next few episodes and never went back that first season. I just don’t watch much TV at all unless its news, and even then prefer breaking news around a big issue. After missing the first season, I certainly saw no value in starting season 2, and so on, and so on…

My sister-in-law wanted me to Tivo this season’s 2 day, 4 hour marathon season openers and I made time to watch them. Fortunately. I’m hooked.

In the show, things seem very dark for the United States. I don’t think after the Nuke went off, with the threat of 4 more to follow, that things could get much darker.

I had a flash back to a series of books I read sometime ago about the life of Winston Churchill (The Last Lion Volumes 1 and 2). Here is a man leading a nation that had death at its front door for 7 long years, and for a few of those years was mercilessly attacked by fellow government leaders that believed Britain could bring about peace and tranquility by appeasing and working with Hitler.

Despite Hitler’s words about conquering all of his enemies and ushering in a 1,000 year government that ruled the world, there were still British leaders that didn’t take the madman at his word. When someone has the power and weapons to destroy you, and tells you that he intends to, believe him.

What those British “leaders” didn’t understand is that Britain was a primary target of a madman that sought to end it’s influence over Europe and the world. Hitler had resolved to expend the blood, sweat and treasure of Germany to wipe out the British Islands.

We face an enemy as horrific and death-fascinated as Hitler and his SS Death squads. I went back and found one of the speeches Sir Winston Churchill delivered during some of the darkest days of WWII.

This is the closing of a speech he delivered to the British Parliament on June 18th, 1940:

“What General Weygand called the Battle of France is over. I expect that the Battle of Britain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilization. Upon it depends our own British life, and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire.

The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this Island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands.

But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science.

Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, ‘This was their finest hour.’”

Sir Churchill delivered this speech after a horrific two weeks of defeats and failures capped off by the retreat at Dunkirk and the collapse of the French government to the invading Nazi army.

How timely is his message today as we face those that are sworn to remove our heads from our idle, rich, distracted, petty, arguing, preoccupied, partisan and appeasing shoulders.

Sorry for going political…24 got me all worked up.







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Leadership Thoughts From An Old Book

I was organizing my home office and found an old book I read almost 10 years ago. While I dont think it made a significant impact on me, it did add some insight and understanding about leadership. Here are the some key points from the book that I highlighted when I read it in 1998:

From "Semper Fi: Business Leadership the Marine Corps Way" by Dan Carrison, Rod Walsh

• Recruiting: Marines send out their top performers to recruit the best people. These experienced officers display a missionary zeal, and they personify the values and pride of a Marine. Carrison suggests that sales managers send out star performers who embody values of the organization to serve as role models for new recruits.

• Training: Marines spend 12 weeks in basic training. When the training gets tough, drill sergeants quote the old saying, "The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war." Boot camp is not designed to weed out people, but to cultivate everybody. While corporate America fires those who don't perform up to standard, new Marines practice until everybody graduates.

• Leadership: Marine officers lead by example. If a leader asks a platoon to climb a 100-foot wall, he will be the first one to start the climb. Of all military services, the Marine Corps has the highest casualty rate among officers. In corporate America, the best sales managers are not the ones who hide behind their desks, but those who go out to see the toughest customers with their front-line people.

• Commitment: The Marine Corps credo is DO or DIE. Carrison says that you have to be careful what you ask a Marine to do because he'll die trying. Marines in action show how much a highly committed team can accomplish. What if salespeople adopted such high standards for conquering new territories or introducing new products?

• Loyalty to the troops: While corporate America often tells employees that they are replaceable, Marines are told that they are irreplaceable. They know that the entire country and their fellow Marines depend on them. It's natural for a Marine to say, "I love my Marine Corps." how many salespeople say, "I love my company"?

• More and more companies are studying the Marine Corps model for motivation. Their sales teams take more pride in their product and in their companies. Imagine the possibilities. Imagine every salesperson in your company as proud as a Marine. Imagine how many competitive battles you'd win. Every year, thousands of loyal and highly trained Marines retire; why not deploy their talents to win more sales?
  

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Sergeant Pruitt And The Slingshot

I know it’s now two days after Christmas, and the whole Christmas-memories thing is over for the year, but I just remembered this one as I was pouring my morning coffee and looking out the kitchen window.

Our family moved from Hickam Air Force Base in Oahu Hawaii to Ft. Meade Maryland in 1976 when I was ten years old. We moved to a remote area of the Army base, on the edge of a large forest with multiple hiking paths and dense forests. There was an old small quarry nearby- well, more of a series of abandoned heaps of gravel and stone in a pit, and it was a favorite hang-out for the local kids, especially for breaking bottles and shooting cans with BB guns, rocks, and the holy grail for ten year old boys- the Wrist Rocket.

I wanted one bad. It’s a black wire-frame sling-shot with rubber straps and a leather cradle for the ammunition, all resting on a hard rubber base that sits over the wrist, providing incredible tension when pulling back the straps for a shot. The velocity that can be achieved is amazing. They were the new status symbol for sixth graders- the Tiger hand-held electronic football game had not yet been invented.

I begged for one for Christmas- it was certainly #1 on my massive wish-list, and I verbally reinforced that top pick on a regular basis with my parents. “Puhleese?” My dad was uncertain- he was worried I would kill someone with it, while my mom was much more understanding.

I got the Wrist Rocket that Christmas morning, and later that day, headed out with it protruding casually out of my back pocket like it had been there my whole life and I wasn’t just showing off my Christmas present. I hit the gravel pit with a couple bottles in my hand, and found a few other kids to hang with. I had a blast. One of the kids mentioned that if you got the special ammunition made for the Wrist Rocket (they looked like enlarged BBs but with flattened sides for your thumb and forefinger to rest against when pulling back the cradle for the shot), and hit a big rock or the paved road a huge shower of sparks would erupt. My purpose in life was set.

I got hold of a handful of these, and decided to test the shower of sparks theory. My parents were out of the house for the day and I was alone with my younger sister. I had an idea- I could go upstairs and shoot down at the road, maximizing the resulting spark shower. I don’t know if that makes much sense, but it sure did when I was ten years old.

I went upstairs, lifted the shades of my bedroom window, opened the window, and took aim at the road that ran between our strip of military row-houses and our neighbors across the street. Yes, you probably know what happens next.

I placed the steel ball in the cradle, pulled back as hard as I could, and let loose a power-shot right at the middle of the street.

I was confused for a second. The shower of sparks did materialize, but my friend did not tell me about the amazing shattering sound that accompanied them. It was wonderful to behold. It all happened in a split-second.

I caught movement beyond the strike-zone, and looked up to see the final pieces of a large window dangling and falling to the ground. There, in its place, was Sgt. Pruitt, holding his newspaper, sitting at the kitchen table, and looking up at me with shock and horror on his face. I looked at him. He looked at me. And then I realized the sudden disintegration of the window was a result of my ricocheting bullet. Fear shot through me as fast as that bullet. I did the only thing I could do: Duck down, crawl out of my room on my belly, and hope somehow that Sgt. Pruitt didn’t really see me. No such luck.






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Christmas Dinner Guest

We had Christmas dinner yesterday about 4PM, and while my sister and her husband (along with my young nephew) couldn’t make it due to some sort of stomach virus going around, we did have an honored guest- my great uncle Raymond, along with my mom and dad, and my wife's sister, Jackie.

After dinner, and what will surely be a new tradition of watching “Elf”, I got the chance to sit with Raymond and ask him a few questions. He is a very private person- the sort that rarely talk about themselves. When they do, its only because you corner them, ask direct questions, and give them no escape route.

Raymond is about 85 years old, and spent most of his life on the sea. He was a US Merchant Marine until about 20 years ago, and was 19 years old when aboard a ship traveling from the US East Coast to England when he and his shipmates got word of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, and the German declaration of war the following day.

He spent his wartime years aboard Liberty Ships- massive cargo ships that the US was building at a rate of one per day during the war and using to supply our forces as well as those of our allies throughout the world. They traveled about 10 knots per hour, zig-zagging wherever they went in their only meager defense against enemy submarines.

Raymond told of the regular route his convoys took to avoid Nazi U-boats, leaving the Gulf of Mexico, rounding Florida and keeping close the North American coast all the way to Greenland, then East to Great Britain. The entire trip would last 10-15 days. He said the seas were so rough in the extreme North Atlantic that the convoys would sway up and down on the huge waves, sometimes gaining or losing 30 to 50 feet or more with each wave, making it hard for German torpedoes to hit them. It also made it hard to keep down food.

I asked him if he was scared back then, a young kid spending each day in the engine room deep below the ships surface, knowing an attack by a torpedo or a fighter plane could happen at any minute. He thought about it for a second and said “No. I was only 19 and felt invincible. Everyone was risking their lives, and you just didn’t think about those things much. You had a job to do.”

He recounted a couple convoy trips in particular. One to Murmansk in the Soviet Union to deliver supplies to the embattled Soviet Army. After putting into port and unloading, the crew had about 10 days to see the sights. He said there were only two buildings worth going to- one was the cinder block hotel and diner, the other the local watering hole. More accurately, the vodka drinking room. Everything else was boarded-up, shuttered or frozen. He also said the only people he saw in Murmansk were old people and women, and no one messed with any of the Murmansk women since they were about the same size and shape as the US Merchant Marine seaman.

Another convoy he mentioned went terribly wrong. The group of ships just ahead of Raymond's were attacked by a group of German subs, and several ships were sunk. Raymond watched as many men were killed by torpedo blasts or drowned quickly in the freezing North Atlantic sea.

I learned this morning, while researching the US Merchant Marines a bit, that their wartime record shows losses were among the highest of any group in the front lines during World War II. They died at a rate of 1 in 24, perishing on troubled waters and off enemy shores.






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USS Arizona

Sixty-five years ago today the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor killing 2,403 American servicemen and 68 civilians.

Thirty years ago, as a ten year old boy, I stood over the USS Arizona in Pearl Harbor listening to a tour guide say that 1,102 sailors bodies were still trapped in the ship’s hull. I was horrified. I remember looking down into the murky water fearful I would see one of those men.

For ten year old boys, death- the kind that is explored in war movies, horror movies, action figures and video games- is fascinating. The kind I experienced that day was vast, still, dark, and very real. I had bad dreams for weeks.

I am so very thankful for our military service members. Those that served us in times of peace and war, including the brave men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan that are fighting on this very day. We owe them much. Thank you.

Wanted to share some information learned when fact checking this post- Every President of the US since Roosevelt, and every Emperor of Japan since Hirohito, has made a pilgrimage to the USS Arizona memorial. Also, everyday a different flag is raised at the memorial, and the previous day’s flag folded and given to a VIP (presidents, ministers, dignitaries, retiring service members, etc).

There is a webcam at the USS Arizona that streams video of the memorial 24/7 at http://my.execpc.com/~dschaaf/webcam.html.

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