Wednesday, December 29, 2010

December 29, 1990

The Christmas holidays were over, and now we were in the lull between Christmas and New Year's. By now everyone had long since gotten over the "no rotation" bombshell that the DoD had dropped on us on November 10, and we had all resigned ourselves to the fact that we were going to be there "until" and we might as well make the best of it. As for creature comforts, there wasn't much else we could do; most of the process was simply getting your mind wrapped around the fact that you were there and didn't know when you were going home.

Actually, the past 30 days right before Christmas were the least strenuous days we had experienced, since the day before Thanksgiving "Wambo" finally decided to take us out of 12 hour shifts and put us in a normal work schedule of 8 hours. We had been in 12's for so long that we literally didn't know what to do with all of the free time. The opportunities for recreation were really limited considering where we were, although the REMFs and the BOW-WOWs were still taking their jaunts downtown to the TCN mall and crap like that. But as for us line troops who were still taking the threat seriously, the LAST thing we were gonna do would be to go downtown in a civilian area and expose ourselves to kidnapping or attack. I guess the REMFs never thought of this. So we made do with the Rec Tent and the Oasis, the old swimming pool that we found and the nice folks from MWR fixed up for us. It was cold as hell at night but the temps during the day were still hitting the high 90's, so the pool was getting a pretty good workout.

Just about the time we were all getting used to working like a "normal" person again who worked only 8 hours a day, "Wambo" suddenly decided for whatever reason that the threat around Christmas required us to go back into 12 hour shifts, so on Christmas Eve we went back into 12's. Ho, ho, fuckin' ho, Merry Christmas. And we stayed in 12 hour shifts until the day we worked our last shift on March 8, 1991. I'd like to give the man the benefit of the doubt and say that the OSI had given him a threat briefing which led to the decision to throw us back into 12's, but I can't do that. I ran into an OSI agent I knew at the chow hall a few days after we went back into 12's and asked him about that, and he said that there was "no significant increase in the threat level" that he was aware of.

Knowing "Wambo," I think he did it just because he thought it was a good idea and just because he could.

I had also been paying attention to the news from back home, specifically CNN, and was keeping track of the way things were going in Kuwait and the UN attempts to get Saddam to leave Kuwait. What I was seeing and hearing from the news agencies pretty much mirrored what we were getting told on the base, only we were getting told much more than the news agencies were (for obvious reasons). The storm clouds were building, and I just knew that shortly after the first of the year the shooting was gonna start. We were about as prepared for it as we could have been, so it was simply a matter of just waiting for the balloon to go up.

By this time the remnants of the Kuwaiti Air Force had been rounded up and assembled at Dhahran, and the parking area for their aircraft was in my patrol zone. I got to know the Kuwaiti Wing Commander pretty good, and from what he was telling me he and the rest of his pilots couldn't wait for President Bush (the first one) to give them the word so they could climb in their planes and go bomb the crap outta Baghdad. All of the aircraft had "FREE KUWAIT" written on the sides in big, bold, black letters, and all of the pilots wore a "FREE KUWAIT" patch on their flight suits. These guys were ready for some serious payback, and were just chomping at the bit to go dish it out.

I had a feeling they were going to get their chance before long.

IHC

Saturday, December 25, 2010

December 25, 1990

The desert night air was clear and cold, belying the myth that it never gets cold in the desert. The stars were shining in the night Arabian sky, clear and bright, and the only other light that could be seen was the glow from the tip of my cigarette. It was 0005 hours (five minutes after midnight) on 25 December 1990, and my Hummer was parked out in The Middle of Nowhere, the 13 miles of lonely road behind me and about two clicks off to the left. It was Christmas Day in Saudi Arabia, the absolutel last place I ever thought I'd be spending this Christmas or any other, for that matter.

I sat on the roof of my Hummer, smoking my cigarette and thinking about Christmas the year before when I was in Korea. I spent that Christmas away from my family as well, being assigned to a base that was considered a "remote" assignment in that you couldn't take your family with you. I was remembering how I was sitting out on the flightline in my truck that year, looking up at the stars and thinking about how much I missed my family and how lucky I was that it had been ten years since I had missed a Christmas with them. And that first Christmas away from my home and family had also been in Korea, this time in 1979, and it was a tough one because it was the first. I didn't think it could get any tougher than that, and ten years later I thought the same thing - the first one was the toughest, and it couldn't get any worse than that.

I was wrong. Sitting on the roof of my Hummer eleven years after my first Christmas away from home and family, with war only weeks away, it was clear to me I was wrong. This Christmas was the toughest yet, and I consoled myself with the thoughts that what I was doing in that foreign land was a good thing and the right thing, and that next year I'd most certainly be home with my family.

At least I hoped so.

To all of my family, friends, and fans I wish you a most merry and joyful Christmas, and ask that you please take a moment out of your day to remember and pray for our men and women in uniform who are spending this Christmas away from their family and friends in the service of our nation, and especially for those who are in harm's way.

IHC

Thursday, December 16, 2010

What Would Have Happened if Ginger Had A Gun?

If you've been paying even the slightest amount of attention to the news over the past three days I'm sure you've seen the story about the nutjob who went into a meeting of a school board in Florida, pulled out a can of red spray paint, painted a big "V" with a circle around it on the wall, and then pulled out a gun. After some useless dialogue with the chairman of the school board who was trying to persuade the man not to shoot anyone, the nutjob - who had stated right up front that he wanted to die that night after he shot everybody there - then did just what he said he was going to do, shooting at first the chairman and then a couple other members of the board. An armed security guard rushed in and exchanged shots with the nutjob and hit him at least once, but not before the nutjob had taken potshots at three of the board members. The nutjob then killed himself before the cops got there and did it for him.

The good news out of all this is that the only person who died that night, or who was even wounded, was the nutjob. He didn't hit anybody he was shooting at, except himself when he put the gun to his own head and blew his brains out. One out of four ain't bad, I guess, as long as it's the bad guy who's the "one."

When the story broke all of the news agencies carried the same footage from the security cameras in the meeting room, and all of them stopped the video of the footage after the nutjob takes his first two shots - the first at the chairman and the second into the floor when his finger slipped on the trigger before he could bring the gun back up after lowering it following the first shot. You heard the audio of people screaming and a hell of a lot of shooting, but you didn't see anything until the cops came in. Scary stuff to be sure.

But not as scary as it really was...you see, with a little searching I found another source for another video of the event, this one taken by a live cameraman who was filming the meeting. This video shows something that you didn't see on the "mainstream" news networks, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why.

What this video showed was a woman who was later identified as "Ginger" coming into the room from a darkened hallway, directly behind the nutjob, clutching a rather larger purse in her hands. The look on her face tells you what she's about to do, and the catlike manner in which she is sneaking up on the nutjob verifies it.

And the nutjob has no idea that she's there!

Ginger then lifts the purse over her head and smacks the nutjob right on the top of the head with it; unfortunately, either the blow was very weak or the purse was very light, because all it did was draw the nutjob's attention to her and make him point his pistol at her. Luckily for Ginger all the nutjob did was tell her to drop the purse and "go over there" instead of shooting her. The Big Biker was with Ginger that day, lemme tell ya. Shortly after that the shooting started, and we all know how it ended up.

At this point you have to ask yourself one simple question: What would have happened if Ginger had a gun?

Answer: Instead of giving him a slight headache and annoying him, she'd have been able to blow his friggin' brains out and end the drama right then and there before he had a chance to fire a shot.

So why won't the "mainstream" news media show this video? Simple - it shows how one person who, if armed, could have prevented a tragedy BEFORE it took place, thereby demonstrating both the need for and the good that can come out of the average citizen being armed.

No, they'd much rather air a video showing how one nutjob armed with a pistol can terrify six helpless, defenseless (and unarmed) people before opening fire on them, demonstrating to the American people and the people of the world that "guns are bad, and we must eliminate them."

I'm sure the assholes at the Useless Nations are dancing a jig right now.

As for Ginger, while I admire her courage at doing something instead of lining up to become just another victim, I also have to say that while what she did was incredibly brave it was also incredibly stupid. But you get an "A" for effort, Ginger.

For the most part, people walk around with their heads in the clouds, intentionally oblivious to the bad people and the evil in the world. They keep their heads up there until someone like this now-dead nutjob pops up and reminds them that yes, Virginia, there is evil in the world, and in case you need help in remembering that let me shoot you a few times to drive the point home. And each time something like this happens the liberals and the liberal news media all jump up and down, wringing their hands and bemoaning how dangerous and deadly guns are, and how the only way to stop things like this from happening is to ban them entirely.

And as crime statistics have been showing ever since the "Brady Law" was allowed to expire, they couldn't be more wrong.

So let me throw another question at ya, and while I personally hate "what if" questions, I'm forced to use one here. So here's the question:

What if the people on the school board - ALL of them - had been armed?

What do you think the chances would be that this nutjob would have seriously even considered doing what he did if he knew that everyone he was going to encounter at that meeting was armed and could blow his brains out as soon as he showed a gun? Would he have done it?

Maybe, maybe not. On one hand, he WAS a nutjob with a self-proclaimed death wish, so he very well may have gone in there anyway. On the other hand, by everyone being armed he would have been deprived of the opportunity to make a statement and terrify, terrorize, and then attempt to murder the people in the meeting room. And isn't that what ALL nutjobs like him want, to terrorize people and make a statement before they die? The one thing you CAN say is that if the people there were armed, the terrorizing would have been very short-lived, lasting for mere seconds instead of nearly ten minutes. It would have lasted only as long as it took for one or more of the board members to clear leather and shoot the son of a bitch where he stood.

Once upon a time in this nation nearly every male citizen and a heck of a lot of women carried a firearm. They carried it for protection, mainly, from the evils of the new world around them. Sure, there were those in that time too who used their firearms as instruments of evil, but back then people knew that if you wanted to stop a man from killing again and again you put him on the business end of a noose instead of trying to ban the very thing that the good people in the world were using to protect themselves.

Somewhere along the way we got "civilized," and people who supposedly knew what was best for us told us that we could stop carrying firearms, that all of the bad people and evil in the world were gone, and it was safe now.

Bullshit. Me and the other sheepdogs out there know this to be a lie, and we'll continue carrying our weapons and being alert for the wolves of the world. We know that evil still exists, and it preys on the weak, the helpless, and the defenseless.

I just wish the rest of the nation would wake up and realize this, too.

IHC

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Misplaced Anger and the TSA

Those of you who have been following my blog for the past two years know that I'm pretty much done with online forums, except for one. And I don't really post there all that often, but every now and then I do if the subject sparks my interest.

Well, something was posted there yesterday that sparked my interest, so of course I replied...and at the end of the reply I thought to myself, "Hmmmm, I see a blog entry coming here." So here it is.

The post concerned the ludicrous "security" procedures that a group of returning servicemen on their way home from Afghanistan had to go through because they were flying on a commercial airline. All of them were carrying weapons (all unloaded, of course, and NO ONE had any ammunition) and they all had gunpowder residue on them which means they all failed the "screening test" for explosive residue. Well, DUH, of course they had explosive residue on them - they just came from a war zone, stupid! But anyway, along the way one of the TSA screeners made one of the servicemene surrender his nail clippers because "they could be used as a weapon to take over the airplane." And this directed to a guy carrying a rifle, who replied, "THIS is a weapon!"

OK, on the serious side, you can't do much damage with a pair of nail clippers, and unless you use it as a club to beat your way into the cockpit the rifle isn't much of a weapon either, since no one had any ammo. But that's not the point. The point is that the ire of the people involved was focused on the TSA screener, and that's what prompted my reply.

Rather than repeat myself, here's my reply cut ver batim from the forum:

"Stop blaming the TSA employees, because it isn't their fault. First and foremost, THEY DON'T MAKE THE RULES. They just enforce them, and from the conversations I've had with a friend of mine who works with the TSA at Columbia Airport, THEY think some of the rules are pretty stupid, too - but just like the police, they don't get to pick and choose what rules they enforce and upon who.

If you wanna blame someone, here's the list for you:

First blame the people who screamed bloody murder about the FAA and the Feds "not doing enough" to prevent the 9/11 attacks.

Then blame the politicians who screamed bloody murder about the FAA not doing enough.

Then blame the people at the FAA who screamed back about them not having the people nor the authority to do anything about an attack that NO ONE had thought possible until it actually happened.

Then blame the people at the Department of Homeland Security who came up with the TSA concept.

Then blame the Congress who passed the laws creating the TSA and their rules.

Then blame the politicians and administrators who keep coming up with more and more things that they say you can't take on a plane because it could be used as a "weapon."

Then blame the administrators who failed to take into consideration that military folks who carry weapons sometimes travel on commercial airlines, and should be exempt from some of the rules.

See where I'm going with this?

What happened to our country while this serviceman was gone wasn't NObama, as much as I'd like to say it was; what happened was a collective "sticking of heads up asses" by designing this program that is so widespread, so massive, and so complicated to administer that it's doomed to failure from the start. And every "improvement" that they come up with, like the full body scanners, just seems to make it worse.

But on the other hand, the moment the TSA stops doing this and we lose another airplane to a terrorist attack, who do you think is gonna be screaming the loudest?

There's plenty of blame to pass around as to just what the TSA is doing, but the last folks you want to blame are the ones who are working the gates. These folks are paid MINIMUM WAGE, they work lousy hours, they work with borderline morons because that's what you get when you pay minimum wage, they have to enforce rules that they themselves think are stupid and/or a violation of your person, and on top of all that they have to put up with angry passenges who take their frustrations at the system out on the TSA person standing in front of them.

Kinda like you take your frustrations out on getting caught speeding on the cop. You're mad and he's handy.

One of the LAST jobs in the world I'd ever do would be that of a TSA employee, for two reasons: the pay is shit, and so are the passengers. I don't suffer fools well, and I'd get fired within a week because I'd tell some fat, slovenly, holier-than-thou first class passengers to stick it up his ass."


As I've said before, the two things in life that everyone wants but that are both inconvenient are safety and security. After the 9/11 attacks everyone was screaming for more safety and security, and these same people are the ones who are screaming now about the new security measures and the full body scanners being "inconvenient" and an "invasion of privacy." (I've already addressed that, so I won't repeat myself.) But I can guarantee you that it'll be these very same people who will be screaming if we relax our security measures and lost another airplane to a terrorist attack.

When you get right down to brass tacks, if you want to blame the people responsible for all this, blame the Muslim radicals who staged the 9/11 attacks to begin with.

Just don't blame the TSA screeners who are, after all, just doing their job. It's a lousy, crappy, shitty job, and I applaud them for doing it.

IHC

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Random Thoughts on a Tuesday Morning

So here I am, sitting in my living room, typing out my blog entry on my wife's Netbook while waiting for our new computer from Dell to arrive. And yes, I'm still wishing the assholes at ThinkPoint in hell, thank you very much.

The news tells me this morning that NObama has "reluctantly" agreed to extending the Bush era tax cuts to all Americans in exchange for another 13 months of unemployment benefits. I have several thoughts on this: first, raising taxes at a time when our economy is just starting to recover from the worst recession in its history would be an extremely BAD idea. Second, extending the free ride to those lowlife, scum-sucking, good-for-nothing slugs who would rather suckle from the government tit via unemployment than go get a freakin' job is also a bad idea. While the extension of benefits for those who are actively trying to get a job but have been unsuccessful is good, allowing the bottom-feeders to go along for the ride is not. Third and most importantly, this announcement by NObama has further alienated him from his own party which will almost surely kill ANY chance he may have had of running for a second term, and it's showing the people who voted for him that he's not the "champion of hope and change" that they thought he was; he's just another politician who made promises he knew he couldn't keep in order to get elected.

Like I've said before, "How's that 'hopey-changey' thing workin' out for ya?"

And speaking of useless politicians, Chuck Rangel needs to be run out of Washington on a rail. He honestly expects us to buy the bullshit line that he simply "made a mistake" and didn't understand what he was doing was WRONG? Sure, but for 17 YEARS? Some of us aren't as stupid as Chuck thinks we are - but unfortunately, those who support him simply because of his race will turn a blind eye to this and continue to support him. ('Scuse me, isn't that called RACISM?)

This year's budget includes a whopping 1.4 percent pay raise for the military, the lowest pay raise since the 1960's. The "analysts" say that military pay has finally caught up to civilian pay levels, so the low pay raise is appropriate. They also fall back on the tired old tactic of saying that the military gets things that civilians don't, like free health care, free housing, and financial assistance if you choose to live off base.

Damned right they do, as well they should. What the analysts (who have never served a day in uniform in their lives, by the way) refuse to acknowledge is the big difference between military life and civilian life, that difference being in the civilian world your employer can't tell you to get on a plane, fly across the world to a land you've never heard of, fight people you've never met, and risk getting killed along the way. And they can tell you to do this as many times as they like, and there's not a damned thing you can do about it. Personally, I think military pay should be so good that people would line up to get in the military just for the pay alone.

But then again, those of us who have served know that it's not about the pay - it never was, and it never will be. It's about service, patriotism, and pride, plain and simple. If you've been in the military you understand what I'm talking about; if you haven't served then you'll never fully understand, and I can't help you with that.

The Sarah Palin public affairs campaign continues, in case you haven't noticed. Right after she resigned as Governor of Alaska my mom and I were talking about it, and I told her that I thought Palin had made a wise move. I then told my mom what I thought Palin was going to do next, and here's what I said: I said Palin was going to lie low for a while, 6 months or maybe a bit longer, and then she was slowly going to get her face back in the news by supporting key things that would boost her popularity and making appearances that would cast her only in a positive light. That way she would slowly build her support base so that when 2012 rolls around she'd be a strong contender for the Republican nomination for President.

And in case you haven't been paying attention, that's exactly what she's doing. The Liberals, for the most part, haven't been giving it much thought, but I have a feeling that's gonna bite them in the ass come November 2012. Unless Palin does something really stupid between now and then or unless the Republicans field a better candidate - like Fred Thompson - I'll sure as hell vote for her.

As for the folks at ThinkPoint, I hope all of you rot in Hell. After your dicks fall off, that is.

And lastly, it's a chilly 34 degrees outside right now, and this is South Carolina. What's up with that?

IHC

Thursday, December 2, 2010

So Who Would You Wish in Hell?

If you had one wish to wish someone in Hell, who would it be? Yeah, I know, that's a pretty bleak, insensitive, harsh and hateful thing to think about this close to Christmas, but believe me I have my reasons. Reasons which will become apparent shortly, and once you hear what they are, I'm quite sure you'll agree.

So, back to the question: if you had one wish to wish someone in Hell, who would it be?

Fidel Castro? Nah, he's gonna be dead soon enough anyway, and he's finished being dangerous or harmful to anyone now that his brother's in control anyway.

Mahmood Ahmadinijad, The President of Iran? A definite member of the Top 3, to be sure, but not my #1 choice.

My former Regional Directory of Security for Macy*s East? Nah again; he's my #2 choice, but he's not first on my list.

So just who is #1 on my "Wish You In Hell" list? Simple - that would be the scum-sucking, lowlife, scab-picking, shit-eating, ass-licking, cocksucking, bottom-dwelling asshole who created the ThinkPoint virus, that's who.

Show of hands: how many of you know both understand and agree with me? Uh-huh, I thought so.

For those of you who don't know, the ThinkPoint virus is one of those cute little computer virus programs that infiltrates your computer through various ways and generates fake "popup" virus alerts. These phony alerts are cleverly crafted to appear genuine, even incorporating the Microsoft/Windows logo in the alert box. As soon as the alert box pops up and you foolishly click on it, you'll see another screen showing a phony "virus scan" of your computer which will invariably show as many as two dozen "virus infections." The program will then tell you to erase these "viruses" all you have to do is click on the "SCAN" button in the alert box, and all will be right with the computer world once again.

And if you're foolish enough to do this, that's when the real fun begins.

At that point a second phoney "alert" box will pop up, this one telling you that the "free" version of ThinkPoint can't fix the "virus infection," and it directs you to their web site where you can purchase the complete program that will remove the virus.

Sure, it'll remove the virus, all right - for a mere $99.00 they're remove the virus that they installed on your computer, that virus being the phony "virus alert" program you're seeing.

We had one of these viruses - not the ThinkPoint virus, but one similar - pop up on Gina's netbook last week, but that was an easy fix - a quick trip down System Restore Lane, and all is right with the world. Then, just to be on the safe side, a quick download of a totally ass-kicking and totally FREE anti-spyware program called Spybot, and I'm not worried about picking up that particular virus program again. I've used Spybot for more than six years, and absolutely love it. Aside from the fact that it's totally FREE, it's also an ass-kicking good anti-spyware program.

So when the ThinkPoint virus made its appearance on my desktop yesterday afternoon at 3PM, I wasn't worried. I figured all I had to do was take another stroll down System Restore Lane and I'd be golden again.

Were it that easy.

What I didn't know is that ThinkPoint is a much more insidious, much more complicated, and much more difficult to erase program than the one I encountered on the Netbook. This became apparent when I clicked on the START button at the bottom left corner of my computer, and discovered that the virus had re-written the program for that button. Instead of showing the programs on my computer like it's supposed to, which includes the ACCESORIES program in which the System Restore program lies, it showed me the contents of my DOCUMENTS file.

In other words, the asswipe who designed the program knew that it could be easily defeated by System Restore, so the cocksucker wrote the virus program so it prevents you from getting to it. Nice, huh? Personally, I'd like to pinch his head off and shit down his neck.

So now I'm stumped as to what to do, so I figure I'll just restart the computer and enter SAFE mode when it reboots. I have NOT clicked on any buttons for the virus program, so I'm still seeing that annoying little phony virus alert box, and it's really starting to piss me off. What happens when I click on the TURN COMPUTER OFF button next REALLY pisses me off.

What happens is nothing. Nada. Zilch. Another command re-write, courtesy of the asslicking designer of this virus program.

So now what? OK, if I cant' turn the computer off normally, I'll just turn off the power strip it's connected to and reboot that way. Should work, right?

Wrong. Seems the assfaced ball-licker thought of that, too, and when my computer rebooted it didn't start loading Windows. What it did in actuallity was nothing - nada, zilch, zip. I got the Dell Startup screen, and after that I got nothing. Not even any noise of computer components working coming from the tower, either.

So now what? Well, first I call Gina and tell her what's going on, then ask her to see if her boss's hubby - who is a computer genius - can fix it. She texts back in 5 minutes and says sure, he can fix it and all she has to do is bring it to work with her and he'll take care of it.

Excellent. So now what? In the mean time I have the Netbook, which is better than nothing. So to kill some time I go on the Netbook and do a BING.com search for this ThinkPoint virus, and I discover just how nefarious this thing really is. Not only does it redirect specific commands, it also blocks your Internet access to any site except - you guessed it - the ThinkPoint site where you can buy the "full program."

But here's the really scary part: it also acts as a keystroke recording program, which can then be used by the creators of the program to hack into your computer and steal your screen names, passwords, credit card account numbers, and everything else in your computer memory. In short, this program can be used to STEAL YOUR IDENTITY. The only saving grace for me is that I didn't click on the box directing me to the website for the "full program," so the required code wasn't downloaded onto my computer.

As I'm typing this - on the Netbook, of course - the desktop is with Gina's boss's hubby, and he's trying to fix it. Right now it's not looking good, because it appears that another cute little feature that the cocksucking, inbred, shit-eating little asshole who designed this program put in it was a feature that fries your hard drive and/or your motherboard if you do what I did and power down to reboot and access the SAFE mode at startup. So now it looks like I may be in the market for a new computer, which is just what I need right in the middle of the holiday season when money is already tight.

In the mean time, I'm sitting here thinking about how much I'd like to have the designer of that program standing in front of me, and me standing there with either a pair of pliers or a very long, very sharp knife in my hand.

Or both. I have two hands, you know.

IHC

Monday, November 29, 2010

The End of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" Part II

So I was reading through Fox News online a few days ago when a news story caught my eye, that story being about a survey that was just released concerning the topic of homosexuals being allowed to serve in the military. Seems that someone out there took a survey of people who were actually serving in the military and asked them what they thought of the idea of openly homosexual people being allowed to enlist, and whether or not the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” law should be scrapped.

And surprise, surprise, a whopping 70% of the people surveyed said they were okay with homosexuals being allowed to enlist, and supported the idea of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” being scrapped!

Honestly, I have to admit that I’m surprised by this. I knew that opposition among service members to the idea of homosexuals being allowed in the military wasn’t anywhere near as strong as it was when I was in the service, but I must admit that I didn’t think it had changed that much. And I also believe that this is a good thing for both those people who want to serve and the nation who needs people willing to serve.

I just flat-out don’t see the opposition to someone being denied the chance to serve their country, to give back something to the country that has given them so much, based solely on the grounds of their sexual orientation. As I’ve said before, as long as someone is physically capable of carrying out their assigned duties, and as long as they conduct themselves according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, I don’t see why they shouldn’t be allowed in the Armed Forces of the United States. Of course, the UCMJ will have to be amended because homosexual acts are prohibited by military law, but once DADT falls by the wayside I have a feeling that the necessary changes to the UCMJ will take place in very short order.

Unfortunately, there are still some folks out there who don’t see it this way. I had the occasion to have the “homosexuals in the military” discussion with one of them two weeks ago, and it was not exactly what I’d call an either pleasant or enjoyable conversation. This person stated flat-out that he didn’t think homosexuals should be allowed in the military for one reason and one reason alone: because the Holy Bible said homosexuality was wrong. Period. No other dissenting reason was given, because this person thought that alone was enough.

Needless to say, I think this is one of the most ludicrous, short-sighted, unrealistic, and just plain stupid things I’ve ever heard in my entire life, and I told the other person so.

Didn’t matter. What I said didn’t make a dent, not that I expected it to.

Those of you who have been reading my blog or who have talked to me in person know my feelings on religion in general and the Holy Bible in particular, so I won’t bore you with the details. You also know that while I respect the opinions of others and their right to have them, I also will quickly state that no one’s opinion is “right” and the other is “wrong” – they’re “different.” What galls the living shit outta me is when people take those opinions and try to force them on others, or try to dictate how others can and cannot live their own lives because of their opinions – especially when those opinions are based on their religious beliefs, no matter what the religion. As the saying on the bumper sticker goes, “I have no problem with God – it’s his fan club I can’t stand.”

Sure, I’m fully aware that our nation was founded on Christian principles, and I’m all for that. I’m also fully aware that our nation was founded by a bunch of folks who left their native country to avoid religious persecution, too. So be very careful before you start swinging that particular sword around, my friend, because it cuts both ways.

Like it or not, the world is constantly changing around us, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Most of the time it’s for the better, regardless of what some folks will tell you. 35 years ago I would have been one of those people telling you that letting homosexuals into the military would be the death of discipline and the death of the military itself, but as the old saying goes, “That was then, and this is now.” Since then I’ve grown up and matured, and I see things in a broader, more practical sense than I did when I was filled with the exuberance and inexperience of youth. I’ve also had plenty of first-hand experience in some areas to help me wise up and see things for the way they really are.

And the bottom line in this case, in my opinion of course, is that there is absolutely no reason that anyone should be denied the chance to serve their country in the military for the reason that they’re homosexual. What’s more, I fully expect the Department of Defense to abandon the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy in the very near future – especially now that the service members themselves are saying it’s OK with them.
I’m sure there are people out there who will vehemently disagree with my opinions and the abolishment of DADT, but all I can say to them is this: Times change. Either change with the times, or get left behind.

It’s as simple as that.

IHC

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Security or Privacy - Take Your Pick

For the past few days the news has been full of stories about people complaining that the new TSA security procedures involving either full body scans or strip searches are "an invasion of privacy" and "violate a person's Constitutional right to privacy."

The easy one first.

The US Constitution doesn't say that. Show me where the Constitution guarantees the "right to privacy" and I'll kiss your ass on Main Street and give you a week to draw a crowd.

As for the procedures being an "invasion of privacy," I disagree on that one too. If you want to get technical, the US Supreme Court has ruled that in a public place - such as an airport - you have no "reasonable expectation of privacy" since the area is out in the open and is designed for full public access.

But on the other hand, I understand why people are upset about both procedures. The full body scan shows whoever is looking at the screen an outline of your body sans clothing, which can be unsettling at best. And the pat-downs just go against the natural resistance to having someone touch your body that you don't necessarily want touching you.

Unfortunately, the reality is simple: thanks to the radical Muslims who have been wreaking havoc on the world in unconventional ways, the airlines and the Feds are now forced to take unconventional measures to prevent further attacks. So if you want to be pissed off at someone, be pissed off at the radical Muslims and not the Feds or the airlines. I've always said that the two things in life that everyone wants but are not convenient are safety and security. You don't get either one by doing nothing, and you have to sacrifice and/or be inconvenienced to get both.

The other reality is that if the Feds and the airlines stop their procedures because of the complaints about "invasion of privacy" and we lose another airliner to a terrorist attack, the same people who complained the loudest about the "invasion of privacy" will also be the first ones to jump up and complain that the Feds didn't do enough to prevent the attack.

So take your pick, people, security or privacy - you can't have both.

Some folks have suggested that since the Muslims are the ones responsible for this the only ones that should go through the procedures are Muslims. To me, this is nothing short of just plain stupid, not to mention illegal. Can you say, "PROFILING," boys and girls? How about "DISCRIMINATION?"

The big problem with this flawed line of thinking is that you're going to single out every single member of the world's largest religion and punish them - and that's what it would be, make no mistake about it - for the actions of a radical group within that religion. Yeah, I've heard the saying, "Not all Muslims are terrorists, but all terrorists are Muslims" before, and I agree with it. But the simple fact is that you can't punish the entire group for the actions of a few. This is not only stupid, it's also wrong and in this country, it's illegal.

Aside from that, sooner or later - and I'm thinking sooner than later - another radical group out there, or maybe the radical Islamic group itself, will figure out that you're only looking at Muslims, so they recruit non-Muslims into their movement. Next thing you know one of those non-Muslims blows up an airplane, and everyone will sit back wondering, "Now just how did THAT happen?"

And then there's this: just how do you tell who is a Muslim and who isn't? By their name? Their clothing? Their facial hair? I know plenty of people who were born and raised Muslim but renounced that religion for Christianity, but they still have their Muslim name, still wear their traditional clothing, and still look like a Muslim.

But they're not Muslims. So now what, genius?

The bottom line is this: profiling a part of the population for ANY reason is illegal, it's wrong, and it's stupid. It goes against everything this country stands for, and in case you forgot your American History 101, this country was founded by people who fled their native-born land to escape religious persecution. And the idea of screening Muslims and only Muslims is exactly that - religious persecution.

And that's wrong. PERIOD.

You got a problem with the screening and security procedures at the airports? Fine, no problem - jump in your car and drive. Take a bus. Take the train. Do something else, but just don't fly.

What, it's too inconvenient to do any of that because it takes too long?

Hmmmmm, what was I saying about safety and security being inconvenient?

IHC

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

November 10, 1990

It had been nearly three months since the 1st Tactical Fighter Wing had deployed to Saudi Arabia in support of Operation DESERT SHIELD, and for the past month and a half – most of September and all of October – the speculation and the hopes of the people deployed was that the rumors they had heard about the deployment being only 90 days were true. We had no written orders stating that, but everyone we talked to from the Wing Commander’s office on down seemed to be in agreement that we would be going home in November, and another wing from the States would come and replace us.

And in the last few weeks of October, it got even worse – a redeployment date was announced, fueling the hopes of the Wing that we’d be going home soon. The rumor mill had our departure date set for November 26th, and even the folks in Base Operations – the ones who controlled the arrival and departure of all aircraft – had confirmed that a flight back to Langley had been scheduled for that date. Hopes were running high, and they were running higher with each passing day.

For the previous two months the guys in my unit had been asking me what I thought of the chances of us going home. I guess they were all coming to me because I was the relative newcomer to the unit and should have been “uncontaminated” by all of the usual BS that comes with assignment to any military unit. From jump street, when asked what I thought our chances were I always gave the same answer: have faith in the system. The system works, just be patient and have faith.

It was about the most perfect non-committal answer I could come up with, and it worked just fine. See, if you asked me the question and got that answer, if you were of the mind set that the system was going to send us home on time, then you got encouragement for your beliefs. If you believed the system was going to screw us and keep us there, then you got support for that belief as well. Whenever I was pressed for a more detailed answer I never gave one. Let people think what they wanted to, either way. I wasn’t going to burst their bubble or fuel their personal fires.

I had hopes – high hopes, to be sure – just like the rest of the Wing that the rumors were true, that we’d be going home on the 26th like they said. I had just spent the previous year away from my family, missing a full year of my kid’s lives, and after being home for less than four months I was gone again. Sure, I wanted to go home, more with each passing day. I woke up each day praying that this would be the day the rumors would be confirmed and we’d be told to pack up our gear and go get on the planes.

But deep down in my heart I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I knew that we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, that we were going to be there for the long haul, and there was just no way around it. You see, I watched those big-assed airplanes arrive from the States full of equipment and troops, one after the other, non-stop 24 hours a day for nearly two full months, and I knew that with that much equipment and that many men in the country, there was no way in hell we would be leaving anytime soon. But I continued to hope against hope, and against my better judgment I let myself start believing the rumors of our impending departure.

All that changed on November 10, 1990.

On that day I was assigned to the Reserve Force as the Flight Commander, so for that day and the following three days after it I spent my 12 hour shift out in the field area, inspecting gear and training troops, keeping the 18 men under my control ready to deploy to any part of the base that may come under attack and need reinforcements. Boring duty, to be sure, but necessary and a welcome break from the normal routine.

Our shift started at 2300 hours (that’s eleven PM to you civilians out there), and after Guardmount and weapons inspection the SPs on the Reserve Force hit the chow hall in tent city for some midnight chow. Then it was back to the Reserve Force area, and around 0100 hours we were sitting in the temper tent set aside for us, waiting for our weekly Threat Briefing to be given to us by the OSI representative. It was more of the usual stuff, telling us about the ongoing negotiations and demands from the UN for Hussein to get out of Kuwait and about his continual posturing and defiance, threatening “the mother of all battles” should we decide to tangle with him. None of us took him seriously, and we all knew that we’d kick the living shit out of him in short order if it came to that. We were all hoping it wouldn’t but we knew it was going to end up that way, which was just one more reason we wanted to get the hell out of there.

After the briefing the Operations Officer, a captain whose name escapes me (Lonnie, help me out here) came into the tent and walked to the front. Once there he told us that he had an announcement to make, and the tent immediately fell silent. Every man jack there was hoping that this was it, this was the moment we’d been praying for, that the captain was going to confirm our departure date! But the look on the captain’s face told me otherwise; he looked like a man who was just getting ready to tell you that someone ran over your kitten.

He then told us that the Secretary of Defense had just announced that there would be no rotation of troops out of Saudi Arabia, and that all troops currently deployed would remain in place “until further notice.” The captain then beat feet, and I don’t blame him. You could have heard a pin drop in that tent.

With the departure of the captain I was once again the ranking man in the tent, so what happened next was up to me. I got up and went to the front of the tent, facing the men there, and told them that we had work to do. I then told them that they had 30 minutes to break down, clean, and reassemble their individual weapons and that there would be a weapons inspection in 35 minutes. “So stop feeling sorry for yourselves and get to it!” By that time everyone there knew me and knew that I was all business, that I didn’t play games, and that when I gave an order you damned well better carry it out, right now! So they got to work, breaking out the cleaning kits and starting in on the task I had assigned them. I knew that if I let them dwell on the bad news they’d just received that it would destroy them, so I set about keeping them busy for the next 10 hours so they wouldn’t think about it.

As for me…well, I walked out of the tent, climbed up on the hood of the big “deuce and a half” troop truck parked outside, laid my GAU rifle on the hood beside me, lit up a cigarette, looked up at the stars in the clear night sky above me, and quietly cried.

But only for as long as it took to smoke that one cigarette. After that I pulled my “Ranger rag” from around my neck, wiped my face with it, put it back around my neck, jumped down off the truck, recovered my rifle and went back inside the tent. We had work to do, and the time for feeling sorry for yourself was over.

Just another day in the desert.

More later.

IHC

Friday, October 29, 2010

October 29, 1990

By the end of October 1990 life at Dhahran Air Base, also known by now as “Langley East,” had pretty much settled into a dull routine – and considering the alternative, I guess a “dull routine” was the lesser of two evils. The tent city next to the flightline was long since finished, and the majority of the Wing had moved out of the Saudi police barracks and into the temper tents that had been erected in long, neat rows. This was good, because the poorly-constructed Saudi barracks were starting to come apart in chunks, so the less wear and tear on them the better. The grand plan was to move the entire wing out of them and leave them for housing the troops from other Air Force units that had arrived to flesh out our manning requirements, both in Security Police and in other units. But “Wambo” put his two cent’s worth in and said that he wanted “his” cops “closer to the resource” and in a “hardened facility” where they would be better protected. Never mind that the tent city was right next to the flightline, which WAS the resource, and that the barracks were falling down around us – he wanted us to stay there, so we stayed while the rest of the wing moved out.

By this time we had also pretty much finished constructing the numerous machine gun emplacements, foxholes, listening posts, and anything else that required filling hundreds and hundreds of sandbags that were scattered around the base as a part of “Wambo’s” grand plan to protect the base. Our shifts now were, for the most part, spent trying to stay awake and alert on post and not let the boredom of hours of looking out into darkness get to us. As a Sector Mobile Patrol leader, my job was to constantly patrol my assigned sector and check on the troops, replacing radio batteries as needed, giving bathroom breaks, and generally keeping the troops awake, alert, and focused. We had five different sectors in my area, and me and the other four Technical Sergeants on my flight rotated between them.

My favorite area, and the one that I requested to be permanently assigned to once the shooting started, was Area 4, radio call sign Charlie Mike 4. (“C” Sector, Mobile patrol, area 4 – CM4.) This was the largest, most open, and most desolate of the patrol areas on the base, and the good thing about it was that if you wanted to go disappear into the darkness where no one could find you without a map, a compass, and an 8-digit grid coordinate, then CM4 was the patrol for you. This area also became known as “13 miles to nowhere,” because the lone road that ran around and through the area was 13 miles long and it came to a dead end out in the middle of the desert – out in the middle of nowhere. If you drove down the road to the dead end and stopped, to your right would be a major highway with a Saudi town on the other side. (Years later I learned that this was Khobar Towers, the same Khobar Towers that terrorists bombed in 1995.) There was a fence between you and the road since this was the perimeter of the base, and at least once every two hours you had to conduct a perimeter check. So after I checked on all my static posts in the area, I’d call Charlie Base and inform them that I was initiating a “Poppa Charlie,” or perimeter check, and they’d know that I’d be busy for the next two hours or so.

To the left of the road was nothing but open desert – 26 square miles of it, and by the time we’d been in country for three months, we knew that desert like the back of our hands. Our standing orders were to stay on the roads at night, but to not get caught on the roads during the daytime. So as soon as the sun came up we’d be off doing some four-wheeling in our Hummers, and after we got to know the area we’d jump off-road at night as well.

The only thing you really had to be careful of at night out there in the desert were the packs of wild dogs that roamed the base. They were vicious and would attack anyone at any time, and we had standing orders to shoot them on sight if they came at us. We were always careful not to get put in that situation so no one ever had to shoot one, but I came awful close one night when my gunner, Staff Sergeant Wayne “Shorty” Simmons, was out of the vehicle taking a leak and a pack of dogs came over the dune. I locked and loaded and drew down on the lead dog while “Shorty” came running back to the Hummer, trying to tuck himself back into the fly of his BDUs while running hell-bent for leather back to the vehicle. He made it with time to spare, and I dropped the Hummer in gear and we went ripping off across the desert, leaving the dogs behind.

“Shorty” never got out of the Hummer at night after that. (RIP, “Shorty,” I miss you, my friend.)

One of my goals while I was over there was to get my Hummer stuck. Once we got over there and started using the Hummers in all sorts of conditions, I became quite a fan of the rugged, go-anywhere vehicles that just absolutely refused to get stuck no matter what. So I set out to get one stuck, and one night in October at about two AM I finally did it. I found myself a loose patch of sand and got the Hummer bogged down so deep that the chassis was sitting on the surface of the loose sand, the tires just spinning and throwing sand all over the place. I was elated and very proud of myself at finally having gotten a famous Hummer stuck!

Then I realized that not only was my vehicle out of commission, I was a sitting duck with nowhere to go should we get attacked.

Oh, shit!

So I got on the tactical radio and contacted CM2, who just happened to be my good friend Lonnie Fulbright. I told him where I was and asked for a rendezvous, and when he asked what was up I told him I’d tell him when he got there. As soon as he pulled up he knew what I had done, and he busted out laughing. “You did it, man, you finally got one stuck!” he said, laughing all the while.

“Yeah, I did,” I replied, “Now help me get the damned thing out!” With the help of the winch on the front of his Hummer and some finesse with the four wheel drive on my part, we got the Hummer unstuck in about half an hour or so. We laughed about it for the next few minutes after which we both returned to our respective patrol zones. That was the last time I tried to get a Hummer stuck – from then on I was happy to jump the occasional sand dune and let it go at that.

Did I mention the old motocross track that Lonnie found out in the middle of the desert? The one we used to drive our Hummers around on, whooping and hollering like kids driving dune buggies up and down the sand dunes at the local beach?

More later.

IHC

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Monday Morning at the VA Hospital

This past Monday morning found me at the local VA hospital having a follow-up appointment for my acid reflux and having my ears checked. Two different ailments meant two different appointments, naturally, so I spent some time sitting in the waiting area outside of the White Team offices waiting for my second appointment. While I'm sitting there some fat, lazy, loudmouthed bastard (my reasons for describing him as such will become apparent soon enough) and his equally fat girlfriend come strolling up - or rather, she's waddling and he's rolling, because he's in a wheelchair. He's too lazy to push the wheelchair up over the little metal strip that divided the tile floor from the carpeted waiting area and his girlfriend is too fat to do it, so he parks his fat ass in the aisle while she plops down on the far end of the waiting area (about 10 feet away) next to the wall so she can plug her cell phone into the wall socket and recharge it.

He immediately starts bitching about how long it's going to take the doc to look at the x-rays for his foot, which is why he's in the wheelchair, and he's in a hurry for the doc to look at them so he can get out of the hospital and go home to play on his computer. His work expects him to come in when he's done, but he's not going to work - he's going home to screw around on his computer all day. Screw them, he didn't feel like working much today anyway.

And how do I know this? Why, he told this to his girlfriend sitting on the other side of the waiting area, so not only did I hear it but everyone within 20 yards heard it as well.

Just about that time someone he knew came walking by, and after exchanging greetings the newcomer sat down next to the loudmouth, whereupon the loudmouth starts complaining to his friend about how much time this is taking, and he doesn't know why it's taking that long because all the doc has to do is look at the x-rays and he's done, and how long can that possibly take? So his friend asks him what time his appointment was for, to which the loudmouth replies that he didn't have an appointment. He doesn't believe in making appointments, he just walks in because "they have to see me" because he's a vet, and that's the way it works. So his friend points out that the doc does have other patients - ones with appointments - to see so it may take some time, but the loudmouth doesn't care about that. All he wants is to be seen so he can go home.

For the next fifteen minutes I get regaled with this asshole's opinions on how the system is "fucked up" and how he totally ignores it, he just shows up for his health care and makes everyone work around HIS schedule, and about how he deserves it because he was in the Army for "nearly three years." One cannot help but wonder why his service was "nearly three years" instead of a full four...

The more this jerkoff talks the more I want to pinch his head off and shit down his neck, but I manage to behave myself and not say anything. All the while his fat girlfriend is yakking her fat face off on her cellphone which rings about every 4 minutes with a new call. Oh, and she's sitting right under a sign that says, "PLEASE TURN OFF ALL CELL PHONES." Guess I shoulda known better, huh?

And then the conversation takes a turn which caused my stomach to take a turn with it. The fat bastard told his friend that he had to stop wearing his "OBAMA" hat because too many people were giving him a hard time about it, so he stopped wearing it. He then proceeded to comment about what a good job Obama was doing, how he didn't understand why people didn't think he wasn't the absolute best President we've ever had, and about how he sure was going to vote for him again in two years.

Those of you who have been reading my blog know that I absolutely detest NObama with all my heart and soul, but I gotta tell ya that it wasn't this part of the conversation that turned my stomach. And I even managed to blow this loudmouth off and not say anything about him being out of his fuckin' mind, either. All in all I was quite proud of myself...but what happened next is when my stomach rolled over and my blood started to boil.

As soon as the loudmouth made the comment about voting for NObama again, the fat girlfriend spoke up and said, and I quote:

"AND THAT'S WHY WE GOTS TO MAKE SURE WE VOTE AGAIN IN TWO YEARS SO'S WHITEY DON'T GET BACK IN CONTROL!"

Your whole mental image of this little scenario just changed, didn't it?

As soon as the fat bitch said this, I saw red. It took all of my composure and willpower not to unload on the fat racist bitch and her equally fat and equally racist boyfriend, but I didn't do it. I simply stood up and walked away, finding myself another place to sit where I didn't have to listen to this racist bullshit any longer.

It seems that racism is alive and well, and living in "black" America.

And that's a shame.

Oh, and my acid reflux is getting better and my ears are just fine, thank you!

IHC

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Sometimes, Southerners Are Their Own Worst Enemies

I swear, sometimes Southerners are their own worst enemies.

I spend a lot of time on various Internet forums defending my reasoning for flying and displaying the Confederate Battle Flag, and I spend even more time correcting the half-truths, myths, and downright lies about the reasons the South fought the war that are held as “factual beliefs” by a majority of the non-Southern population. Both of these could very well be, I realize, an unending chore, but if that’s the case then I guess I’ll be working at that chore until the day I die.

But every now and then I’ll run across some brainwashed, intentionally-ignorant, self-righteous Southern fool who steadfastly refuses to either acknowledge that one of the many causes of the War for Southern Independence was slavery, or refuses to acknowledge the historical fact that seven of the eleven Southern states specifically cited the preservation of slavery as a reason for secession in their Articles and/or Acts of Secession. These people will steadfastly, arrogantly, and in most cases, insultingly and rudely stand by their misbegotten beliefs that the one and only reason the War was fought was for State’s Rights, and that slavery had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Like John Lackey, for instance.

I have long said that anyone who refuses to believe and/or acknowledge that slavery was one of the major factors – if not THE major factor - which led up to the War is a fool. All you have to do to realize this is to simply read the Articles of Secession of the various Southern states, and you’ll see what I mean. But there are folks out there who “poo-poo” this as “Yankee propaganda” and foolishly stand by their beliefs, insulting anyone and everyone who dares disagree with them no matter how wrong they are.

Like John Lackey, for instance.

These folks seem to believe that in order to be a true Southerner, you absolutely must believe their version of history and agree with them that no, slavery didn’t have anything to do with the war, the only reason the war was fought was for State’s Rights. And if you dare disagree with them they’ll insult you, talk down to you, and basically treat you as if you were the scum of the Earth.

Like John Lackey, for instance.

These poor, misguided fools live their lives believing a lie, refusing to accept historical fact as the truth that it really is. They cling to their ill-conceived, one-sided, inaccurate beliefs as if they were clinging to the Holy Bible and their soul was at stake. They steadfastly refuse to do ANY reading of ANYTHING that may burst their bubble, insisting instead that YOU read the things THEY recommend and call “gospel,” slinging insults at you if you dare disobey them.

Like John Lackey, for instance.

No, rather than make any attempt to increase their knowledge of the South and the true causes of the war by reading things like “Look Away!” by William C. Davis which does a fantastic job of describing the rush to war on the part of the Southern aristocracy, these people would rather go on the Internet and read the drivel posted on so-called “pro-Confederate” web sites. And naturally, the things they read on those sites supports their twisted version of “historical fact” and echoes the intolerant, insulting and caustic actions of the people who hold those misbegotten beliefs to be true.

Like John Lackey, for instance.

I can deal with the people who know only of the War and the causes for it what they were taught in their Yankee-influenced school system, both North and South. (In case you didn’t know, ALL of the text books being used in the school systems nowadays are printed in the North, and you can guess which version of the war is making it into print.) The saying has long been that “the victor gets to write the history books,” and this is a fine case in point because the victor has done exactly that. Schoolchildren have been taught the Yankee version of the War for the past 35 years, and I don’t see that fact changing any time soon.

But like I said, I can deal with that. I take no small amount of pride in the number of people I’ve informed of the real and varied reasons for the war, and on the number of people who’s minds I’ve changed about the true causes for the war and the role slavery played. I’ve lost count of the times that has happened, and I’m proud to have been a part of it.

What really chaps my ass are the Southerners who are so badly misinformed and so obviously wallowing in self-imposed ignorance of the truth as to be completely unable to see the truth if it was standing in front of them, and who are absolutely incapable of holding a sane, mature, adult discussion on this point without resorting to rude behavior and insults. These buffoons think they’re defending the South and doing it with honor, when in reality all they are doing is reinforcing the popular image of the typical Southerner as an inbred, knuckle-dragging, tobacco-chewing, overall-wearing snaggle-toothed redneck driving a beat to hell pickup truck with a Confederate flag waving from a bamboo pole in the bed, hollering “YEE-HAW!” and “THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN!”

Like John Lackey, for instance.

These people are doing more harm than good, and they’re too stupid to realize it. Like I said, sometimes Southerners are their own worst enemies.

Like John Lackey, for instance.

IHC

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

The End of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell"...Maybe

I would imagine that there are plenty of folks in the US military who are not too happy right about now, and if I were on active duty I can’t say as I wouldn’t be one of them. For those of you who haven’t been keeping up on current events, the Clinton-era “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy concerning homosexuals in the military ended today when a Federal judge denied the appeal to her previous ruling that the ban was unconstitutional. So for the first time in this country’s history, homosexuals can openly serve in the US Armed Forces. Naturally, the homosexual community is all happy and celebrating this “victory,” but I wonder if they realize just what they’ve done and what Pandora’s box they’ve opened.

I think not.

For starters, let me set something straight: I absolutely refuse to use the word “gay.” It’s “homosexual,” not “gay,” and if you are homosexual and you have a problem with that word, then that’s YOUR problem and not mine. If you look it up in the medical books the term isn’t “gay,” it’s “homosexual.” When you’re happy, you’re “gay;” when you’re a homosexual, you’re a homosexual. Period.

Moving on…

Let me set the record straight right now by saying that I don’t care whether a person is homosexual or not. I personally happen to think it’s wrong on every level and the thought of two men engaging in anal sex – because that’s what sex between male homosexuals means – disgusts me beyond words, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to look down my nose at you or treat you any differently than the next person just because your sexuality is different than mine. And if you think I’m talking out of my ass and can’t do this, then I have a friend named Michael I’d like for you to meet sometime.

And as long as you don’t shove your homosexuality in my face and tell me I have to accept it, then we’ll get along just fine – but do either of those and we’re gonna have one hell of a big problem. I don’t HAVE to accept ANY-fuckin’-thing, and don’t you think for one minute that I do. So as long as you can live with that, then we got no problems.

I don’t believe in denying anyone anything based on their religion, sex, race, national origin, or anything else. That’s called “discrimination,” and not only is it wrong, it’s illegal. And that applies to homosexuals being able to serve their country, too. I mean, really, why not? If someone who is homosexual wants to join the military to serve their country and give something back to the country that gives them so much, then why the hell not? As long as that person performs their duties in the manner which is required of them – and that includes conducting themselves in a manner that doesn’t discredit themselves or their service – then I’m OK with that. Until it interferes with your unit’s mission, your abilities to perform that mission, or discredits the service of which you are a part, what you do with your off-duty time is your affair, not mine.

And there’s the rub. There are plenty of people out there who will adamantly state that you cannot be a homosexual without bringing discredit on your service, and once upon a time I was one of them. But not anymore...I guess I’ve mellowed with age, although I prefer to think of it as enlightening myself and becoming more understanding. But there are still plenty of folks out there who feel that way, and I can’t say as I completely disagree with them.

The thing I’m most concerned about is how the current members of the active forces are going to take it. Fact is, there are a hell of a lot of people out there who refuse to tolerate homosexuality in any way, shape, or form, and the thought that now they can join “their” service isn’t gonna sit well with them at all. Then you’ve got the folks who are just flat-out disgusted by homosexuals and can’t stand being anywhere near them, no matter what. And then, to top it all off, you’ve got the folks who really, really, REALLY just absolutely HATE homosexuals, and who won’t hesitate to kick the living shit outta them at the first opportunity.

What’s gonna have to happen is two-fold: first, the people in the service who are opposed to openly homosexual people being allowed in the service are just gonna have to get used to the idea that it’s happening, and there isn’t going to be much they’re gonna be able to do about it. I have a feeling it’s not gonna be as bad as they think it will be, but only time will tell. Second – and maybe most important – the homosexuals who join the military are going to have to realize just what kind of atmosphere they’re coming into, and they need to enter it quietly, with restraint, dignity, and respect for those already there. If they come in flaunting their “victory” and shoving it in the faces of those already in the service, then they’re in for one hell of a rough ride. And mark my words, if they do that, one or more of them is gonna die at the hands of his or her comrades in arms. Count on it.

So both sides have a huge responsibility going forward, and it’s gonna be very interesting to see how it all plays out.

And the “Pandora’s Box” I mentioned earlier? Well, it’s like this: now that homosexuals have won the right to serve in the military, they’ve given up a part of the “clout” they had in making their voices heard. For years they’ve been demonstrating and trying to convince people that they’re just like “ordinary” folks, just like everyone else except for the small fact that they’re homosexual, and that they deserve to be treated just like everyone else.

OK, so now they are. They’re just like everyone else in this aspect, which makes them NO DIFFERENT THAN ANYONE ELSE. Which means from this point forward, all “special considerations” and cries of, “You’re just doing that because I’m a homosexual!” come to a screeching halt. If you’re homosexual, you’re no different than anyone else now.

In short, you’re nothing special. And remember, you asked for it.

So get used to it.

IHC


UPDATE: Since writing this, the Federal Appeals Court for that area has ordered a freeze on the judge's order, giving the lawyers who brought the suit to begin with until Monday to present their arguments as to why the ban should be lifted. We'll see what happens...stay tuned, should be interesting.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

October 10, 1990

After a little more than two months into the deployment that was now well-known throughout the world as "Operation DESERT SHIELD," things at Dhahran Air Base had really become comfortable - spelled, "LAX." By this time it seemed that the only people who were taking the deployment and the reason for it seriously was the OSI and the Security Police - and not all of the Security Police personnel were taking it seriously, either. Our commander, Lt Col Pack, certainly was - he was still creating more posts for us to man and still screaming for more people, although by now we had just about as many troops in country under his command as we were going to get. But as for his Command Staff - well, some of them were working 8 hour days, they had access to vehicles where they could go off-base and into downtown Dhahran, they had both the time and the transportation available to them to take advantage of the recreation area which included a pool that the MWR services had set up, and they were enjoying relaxing, comfortable meals at the local luxury hotel which was housing the British RAF troops that had joined our wing at the base. (Yeah, the Brits had the right idea - we were living in beat-to-shit Saudi dorms and US issued tents, and the Brits were staying at the Hilton. Go figure.)

But for those of us working the line, it was another thing entirely.

We took it all in stride, however, because most of us out there in the desert would have cut our own arms off rather than become known as a REMF - especially at that time and at that place. We had very little respect for anyone on the command staff below the rank of Technical Sergeant, because those folks were stupid enough to flaunt their privileges in our faces. Techs and above knew where we had come from having done it before us in a different war in a different place, so they knew better. But there were a few on the command staff that didn't, and to this day there's one of them that if I ever run into him he's gonna get back what he dealt out - in spades.

So doing our best to uphold the tradition of the American soldier to be ingenious in the face of adversity, we set about making our lives easier. And I must admit, we did pretty well.

The first thing we did was find a way to wash and dry our clothes without having to do it in the shower. This was accomplished for my sector when we moved our command post from the old underground bunker out on the flightline to an empty housing unit in the USMTM compound which just happened to have a working washer and dryer. It also had a working refrigerator, too, and that came in handy as well. The routine was that the Controller (radio operator) working that night would spend the night working the radio and washing the bags of clothes dropped off at the beginning of the shift. He had 12 hours to do it, so it was never a problem. (Jeff Archer, if you're reading this by some quirk of fate, many thanks!)

The next thing we did was find a privately-owned market, kind of like a 7-11, which also just happened to be on the base - which meant we could get to it. This market sold a little bit of everything, and we'd go shopping there for candy, cigarettes, Frank's Hot Sauce (which I absolutely LOVE to this day!), and even hamburgers and fried chicken. There was a grill at the front of the store, and the owner of Abdul's (of course we called it that, not knowing what the real name of the place was - we didn't read Arabic, and the owner didn't speak English so we couldn't ask) made a killing off of us. After more than 60 days eating MREs or the food served in the chow hall, those hamburgers and fried chicken were manna from heaven! The sales of fried chicken kinda took a nosedive once we discovered that it wasn't fried chicken but was really fried alleycat...after that, hamburgers were the specialty of the day. Even the rumor about the meat really being camel meat didn't stop us from buying them. (No, it wasn't really camel meat, by the way.)

The folks at AAFES had set up a field Base Exchange by then, and this was a big help too. The BX that was there before we got there was by now doing 1,000% of the business it was prior to the deployment, and since the US Army was now stationed at my base and working out of the area, the BX was flooded with "straight legs" and it was really hard to get into the place. So AAFES set up a field BX in Tent City, and whatever we needed in the way of personal hygiene items and a few luxury items were available there. We could buy cigarettes there but they were cheaper at Abdul's, so we only bought them from the BX when Abdul's was closed or out of stock. And after he realized the gold mine that the US troops were, Abdul began staying open 24/7 and he made damned sure he never ran out of anything.

Yeah, we were helping out the Saudis in more ways than one.

As I mentioned before, the Brits had arrived at our base and had set up operations there as well. The 24th Squadron of the Royal Air Force was located at Dhahran, and I quickly made friends with several of them. Within days I started "horse trading" with the Brits for things that we had and they wanted, and vice-versa. For example, one of the Brits wanted a US issue desert patrol cap, and he offered to trade me a Brit-issue beret complete with unit crest on it. Needless to say, I made the trade; to this day I still have the beret. And with that one simple trade began a routine of "horse tradaing" that I carried on for most of the deployment, at least until the shooting started and things got really serious again. By the time I was finished trading, I had a complete British RAF camoflauged uniform in my possession - and I mean COMPLETE. Boots, pants, shirt with the Brit equivalent of my current rank, belt with chrome buckle on which was the unit crest, beret, field hat, and canvas webbed gear whcih included the belt, suspenders, two ammo pouches, two canteens and a butt pack - I had it all! The only thing I didn't have was a rifle, and one of the Brits offered to get me one of those. All I had to do was trade him an M-16 for it, and we were square.

No, I didn't even consider it. Really. I never would have been able to get it back into the US.

But I was offered a trade that I really, really, REALLY wished I could have carried out. One of the Brit officers, their equivalent of a lieutenant colonel, took a liking to our Hummers and offered to trade me for one. He was offering a full case of "Pinch" scotch in exchange for one of our beat-to-hell Hummers! And with 12 bottles in a case, that would have pretty much set me up for oh, the next 6 months or so! (For those of you who don't know, "Pinch" is a VERY good and VERY expensive brand of Scotch which sells for about fifty bucks a bottle in the States.) But there was no way I could have pulled it off, and I told the officer so. He was surprised that our military kept track of the vehicles deployed under those conditions. "In our air force, old boy, they simply write the lorries off as soon as we leave!"

Kinda made me wish I was in the RAF, ya know? But I did let the guy drive my Hummer, which made him very happy. In return he told me that anytime I wanted a good, hot meal all I had to do was "pop on over to our mess tent and tell the lads I sent you!"

And trust me, I did...more than once!

All in all, considering our location and the reason we were there, life wasn't too bad. Sure, we missed our families and there was always the still-likely possibility that we'd be seeing Iraqi armor coming across the desert, but we were making the best of it. We were also counting the days until mid-November, because that was when we were told we would be rotating back to the States and another unit would be coming in to take our place.

Sure they would. Really.

More later.

IHC

Thursday, September 30, 2010

There's Stupid, and Then There's Stupid

Sometimes the sheer stupidity of people downright amazes me. Just when I get to the point that I think I've seen it all in my 53 trips around the sun on this blue ball we call home, somebody out there does something so inanely stupid as to defy all imagination, logic, and common sense.

And unfortunately, most of the time these people live in South Carolina.

Such was the case this morning. I'm sitting on the couch watching the local news and drinking my daily cup of coffee with my wife before she has to go to work when they air a story about "racial tensions" in a neighborhood not too far away from Columbia where the TV station is located. Seems that one of the occupants of the neighborhood has pretty much isolated herself from her neighbors because of her insistence on flying the Confederate Battle Flag from the front of her house, and the neighbors don't like that one little bit. So at this point one would imagine that there are some black folks in the neighborhood, since this seems to be the only part of our society that objects to the flying of that particular banner anywhere, anyplace, and anytime. And if you imagined that, then you'd be right.

Kinda. Sorta. Hang on to your hats, because this is where the "stupid" part comes in.

The neighborhood doesn't just have "some black folks" in it, it's a totally black neighborhood. The lady with the flag is not only white, she's the only white person in the entire neighborhood! She just moved into the neighborhood three months ago and immediately started flying the Battle Flag on the front of her house.

Like I said, there's stupid, and then there's stupid.

Several lines of thought cross my mind all at the same time concerning this, and here they are.

First and foremost, what in the bloody hell was this lady thinking?? Not only is it bad enough that she moves into a black neighborhood where she's automatically gonna be an outcast simply because of the color of her skin (and don't you DARE try to tell me that the black people already there didn't hate the idea of "whitey" moving into the neighborhood because you and I both know better!), she compounds the problem by doing the one thing next to hanging a KKK banner from the front of her house that's going to cause her the most problems. And in a sense, she did hang a KKK banner from her house, because that's exactly how the existing residents took it - and with good cause, I might add. While I'm a staunch supporter of and a believer in the right of a person to be proud of their heritage and fly such banners supporting their belief and heritage which includes the Confederate Battle Flag, I'll also say that there's a time to fly the banner and a time not to. Kinda like it's not a really good idea to hang a Japanese flag from your house on December 7th, ya know? And as a newcomer to the neighborhood, I feel it incumbent upon her to become a part of the neighborhood and adapt to it, rather than to expect the prior residents to adapt to her.

Kinda like we expect immigrants to adapt to US rather than the other way around. Any way you look at it, this lady pretty much shot herself in the foot in more ways than one, and I somehow don't think the neighborhood is gonna get over it as long as the Battle Flag is flying from her house.

Right behind that is the thought that the pre-existing neighbors are having a "knee-jerk" reaction towards the situation. They're already lining up voicing their protests at the display of the flag in THEIR neighborhood without even making any attempt at all to get to know the lady and how she feels about them. It should be obvious to anyone with any amount of common sense that this lady is anything but a racist - if she was, I hardly think she'd choose to move into a totally black neighborhood, do you? But the residents aren't seeing this - all they're seeing is the Confederate flag and are having the typical "knee jerk" reaction as they've been trained to have by the past 40 years of the Federal government, the NAACP, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson telling them how they're supposed to react. And that's not a guess, that's a fact - as stated by one of the black residents who spoke his piece on the news this morning.

They're also missing the vitally important fact that it's not only "their" neighborhood, it's now "her" neighborhood as well. But I don't think this lady can expect the Welcome Wagon to show up at her front door any time soon, do you?

The third thing about this story which catches my attention is what the black people in the neighborhood - and the TV camera crew, as well - either totally missed or totally ignored. You saw a picture of it when the footage showed the front of the lady's house, but nobody - and I mean NOBODY - mentioned it.

And that thing would be the American flag flying on the other side of the door on the front of the house.

When one of the residents was asked by the reporter what he thought when he saw the Confederate flag, his typical, "to be expected" answer in typical "knee jerk" reaction form was "slavery." Never mind the fact that the American flag flew over slavery in the United States from 1776 until 1863, a period of 87 years, while the Confederate Battle Flag flew for only 4 years, 2 of which were while slavery existed; never mind the fact that the only flag to ever fly over a slave ship was not the Stars and Bars but the Stars and Stripes; and never mind the fact that all of the slave-trading companies were all located in the North and not the South. Never mind all that...after all, why clutter up things with the truth?

I just don't think it's fair that the lady didn't get any credit at all for flying the American flag, but the residents of the neighborhood focused on the Confederate flag instead. But then again, that's the way they've been "trained," so why expect anything less?

So is one person "right" in this, and the other "wrong?" No, I don't think so.

While I support this lady's right to fly whatever flag she wants to from the front of her house, I also think it's very foolish, in bad taste, and just asking for trouble to move into a black neighborhood and promptly begin displaying the one flag in all of creation that you just know is gonna piss off the neighbors. This is one of those situations where simply saying, "If they don't like it, screw 'em!" won't work. (Does the name "CUSTER" mean anything to you?)

As for the neighbors, I understand their reactions and the reasons for them about as well as any white man can. I also understand that a lot of them have their thought processes firmly stuck in the 1960s and automatically think that anyone who displays a Confederate Battle Flag is a hood-wearing, cross-burning racist. And truth be told, nothing could be further from the truth. There's been a resurgence of displaying of the Confederate flag in the South in recent years, and that's because we Southerners are tired of taking the blame for a group of hood-wearing, inbred mongrel idiots and are working towards erasing the shame that has tarnished our "national symbol" for so long. We're taking the flag back, and that's all there is to it. So not only are the black residents of the neighborhood obviously selling their new white neighbor short, they're also selling themselves short. This lady could quite possibly be one of the nicest people in the neighborhood, but because they're letting their preconceived notions get in the way they'll never know this.

I can't wait to see how all this turns out. I have a feeling I know how it's gonna turn out, and I sure hope I'm wrong.

Time will tell. I'll keep you posted.

IHC

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Like Rats Fleeing a Sinking Ship

The Good Ship NObama is sinking, and the Demoncratic rats are fleeing in droves.

Today's news brings the announcement that NObama's chief economic advisor will quit at the end of the year, not even halfway through the Great Pretender's term. Sure, there's a smokescreen reason as to why he's leaving the administration, but my common sense and instinct tells me that there's much more to the story. I mean, really, if you had a position on the Cabinet of the President of the United States, would YOU just up and leave because you wanted to "return to the private sector?" No, you wouldn't. I wouldn't - unless I had lost faith in the President, was dissatisfied and/or disgusted with what he was doing, and no longer wanted to be a part of it.

I think this is the real reason behind the resignation, and I have a feeling that as soon as this man is out of the administration and has put a little time and distance between him and NObama, the truth will come out.

But in the mean time, the Good Ship NObama continues to sink, and the Demoncratic rats are fleeing.

There are less than two months until the November elections, and the Demoncrats have finally come to the realization that NObama is a loser, his health care plan is a loser, his stimulus plan is a loser, and that his administration as a whole is a loser. And having realized this they are now trying to put as much distance between him and them as possible so they can cling to their positions in Congress and not lose the election. Several Demoncrats have backed off of their support for the health care plan as well as the stimulus plan, especially after the news story broke from California that the government there spent ELEVEN MILLION DOLLARS of NObama's "stimulus plan" money to save just FIFTY FIVE JOBS. And that story came after NObama's own administration released the news that the much-vaunted health care law was not going to reduce the cost of health care but was, in fact, going to nearly double it.

So the rats have seen the waters rising and are doing their level best to keep from going down with the ship. And what's more, the captain of the ship sees it, too.

Just this week the Great Pretender was out rallying for his Demoncratic cronies and supporting their mid-term election campaigns, and who was he talking to? Why, the same people who elected him - he was out pandering to the black voters. He realizes that he got elected simply because of the color of his skin, and he's now depending on that same kind of racist support to help keep his administration afloat.

Yeah, that's right, I used the "R" word. As the saying on the bumper sticker goes, "Voting for someone because they are black is just as racist as not voting for someone because they are black." If you've been following my blog you know how I feel on this and why, so I won't repeat myself here.

The Demoncrats have also come to realize that the Tea Party is a much bigger threat than they wanted to admit. The Tea Party has been winning mid-term primaries all across the nation, defeating both Demoncratic and Republican candidates alike, and the incumbent Demoncrats are sitting up and taking notice. They, along with the help of the nation's biggest racist organization, the NAACP, are scared to death of the Tea Party and are doing everything they can to smear the party's image and stop the progress of the party.

But it's too little too late. The voice of the Tea Party is the voice of mainstream America, and in case you haven't been paying attention mainstream America is pissed. And they're going to show you just how pissed they are in less than two months.

As for me, I'm gonna go to the polls in November and vote for the Tea Party candidate who is on the ballot in my state, and when I'm done I'm going to sit back and watch the Good Ship NObama sink further into the murky depths. And I'm going to be laughing my ass off, you can count on that.

And in January of 2013 when the Good Ship NObama slips beneath the waves I'm going to be celebrating the end of one of the darkest eras in American history, and hoping that the new President can fix what NObama has screwed up.

IHC

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

September 8, 1990

A month into the deployment to Saudi Arabia several things had changed. For one, the operation now had a name, something it didn't have when we deployed. The operation was now known as Operation DESERT SHIELD, and as soon as the name was released the troops began speculating on what the operation was going to be named when the fighting started. (And we all knew in our hearts that it was "when" and not "if" the fighting started.) My guess was "Operation DESERT SWORD," figuring it was only natural since the first operation was named "Shield." You know, shield/sword, that kind of thing. In reality we had no idea, so we played the guessing game for a few weeks after that, but none of us guessed right in the long run.

The other thing that changed, and not for the better in my humble opinion, was the attitude of the people. The longer we stayed there the more relaxed everyone got, and the sense of urgency and alertness to impending attack dissipated. The constant 24 hour a day flow of troops and equipment flooding into the country from the States, Great Britain, and France helped this attitude change a great deal, and after a while people started to think that Saddam would have to be nuts to attack us. So the longer we stayed there the more relaxed things got, and the more relaxed things got the more "organized" things got. Those of us in Security Police and Intelligence knew different, but as for the rest of the base, well, they stopped concentrating on preparing for the attack and started concentrating on getting comfortable.

It got so bad after a while that we started calling Dhahran "Langley East."

The first sign that things were changing for the worse was when the Wing Commander reinstated military customs and courtesies base-wide. That meant that we were back to saluting officers again, and they were back to wearing their insignia. Then the Wing Commander decreed that everyone would have to remain in proper uniform at all times - no more taking off your outer shirt and running around in your t-shirt. And the water bottles sticking out of the cargo pockets on the side of your pants legs had to go, too. You wanted water, carry a canteen or carry the water bottle in your hand. But no more sticking out of the pocket.

"Ranger rags" were the next thing to go. At first the "Wing King" (slang for the Wing Commander, but you figured that one out, I know) said that NO "Ranger rags" were allowed to be worn, period, but the unit commanders got to him and pointed out that they were being used to absorb sweat around people's necks and were used almost constantly, so the Wing King relented and let us wear them - as long as the tails were tucked into the neck of our shirt, that is. And wearing them wrapped around your skull was an absolute "no-no."

The final act of lunacy and "normalization" that came down were the instructions regarding the wear of "boonie hats" and the hat's drawstrings. Each of us had been issued a brimmed floppy hat called a "boonie hat", and the hat had a neck cord or drawstring attached. Some people - like me, for instance - would fold the sides of the hat up and flip the drawstring up so it was sitting on top of the hat, cinching it down so it was holding the sides up. Others would just let the drawstring hang down below their chin so they could let the had hang down behind them if they needed to. The variations of wear were many and varied, and after a month the Wing King got tired of seeing it and issued the decree that boonie hats were to be worn with the brims down all the way around, and the strings were to be either tucked up inside the crown of the hat so they couldn't be seen or cut off altogether.

Kinda defeats the purpose of the drawstrings to begin with, huh? But in any event, that was the decree that came down and we had no choice but to follow it. We weren't happy about it because it was just one more "normalization" of the operation, which did nothing but make it harder to get things done quickly and make people think they were "safe." Which we weren't, but you couldn't get the Wing King and his staff to realize that.

Al that would come to a screeching halt at 0415 hours on January 18, 1991. But that's for later.

In the mean time, the wing was getting comfortable - REALLY comfortable. People were sending their uniforms out to the local Saudi dry cleaners (which the OSI screamed about because they started disappearing, and what easier way to infiltrate the base than in a stolen American uniform), the command staff started going off-base to the local restaurants for meetings and meals, the majority of the Wing settled down into a Monday-Friday, 0700-1600 hour work day (except for us poor souls working the line in Security Police, that is - the Security Police commander and his staff went to 8 hour shifts with the rest of the wing), and the MWR services started arranging off-base tours to local attractions. We also hired hundreds of TCNs (Third Country Nationals, meaning Saudis, Phillipinos, etc) to work on base, and the wing started buying goods from the TCNs - things like food, for example.

And what easier way to kill a couple dozen Americans than to poison the food, right? That's the main reason I ate MREs three times a day for the majority of the time I was there. Until the shooting started and all of the TCNs were banned from the base, I think I ate in the dining hall maybe four times. Maybe.

Just about that time the Tent City that was being built for the deployed troops next to the flight line was finished, and the majority of the Wing moved out of the Saudi barracks and into the new compound. That relieved some of the crowding in the rooms, but that was short-lived because as more Air Force troops arrived at the base they would be billeted in the rooms that had just been vacated. And because "Wambo" wanted his troops to remain in a solid, concrete-fortified building, we stayed in the Saudi barracks while the rest of the Wing moved. And I can't say that I disagree with that decision, either; if I had my druthers, I think I druther stay in a concrete building that gave me some protection from shrapnel during an attack than in a canvas-sided tent surrounded by 50 gallon drums filled with sand.

But that's just me.

So life went on, MUCH more comfortable than it was at first, and the level of comfort gradually increased with each passing week. Did I mention that the MWR services actually found, revamped, and placed into operation a swimming pool and recreation area? It was called "The Oasis," naturally, and became the off-duty hangout for every REMF there. (That's "Rear Echelon Mother Fucker" for you civilians out there.)

And the more comfortable everyone got, the more they forgot why we were there in the first place.

More later.

IHC