--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Do you believe the reports that President Obama
admitted to an Egyptian official that he's a Muslim?
How influential are a president's religious beliefs
on the policies promoted by that administration?
Pamela Geller, publisher of AtlasShrugs.com and author of the new book, The Post-American Presidency: The Obama Administration's War on America, says this most recent comment by Obama has been ignored by the mainstream media and should be of great concern to U.S. citizens.
"[In] this latest report...Foreign Prime Minister Gheit on Nile Television...said that, in confidence, Obama told him that he was a Muslim," says Geller, "and that after he straightened out domestic issues would show the Muslim world how to handle Israel."
Geller also says that while this topic is nothing new, it is further evidence of Obama's sympathetic tendencies towards those who mean harm to the U.S. and his intent to reshape America's religious foundation.
"If you look at the man's record, it's shocking," she laments. "[Especially] when you review how he declared an end to the -- quote, unquote -- 'war on terror'...how he floated the idea that he would talk to the violent, genocidal Hamas, that he insisted and recruited for Muslims in his administration and created an actual new department that reported to Hillary Clinton for the Muslim 'ummah' [the whole Arab world]."
Geller goes on to say that Obama's embrace of Islam shows his hatred toward Israel and effectively abandons the Holy Land, surrounded by its enemies, to fight its own battles.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Do you believe the reports that President Obama
admitted to an Egyptian official that he's a Muslim?
How influential are a president's religious beliefs
on the policies promoted by that administration?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pamela Geller, publisher of AtlasShrugs.com and author of the new book, The Post-American Presidency: The Obama Administration's War on America, says this most recent comment by Obama has been ignored by the mainstream media and should be of great concern to U.S. citizens.
"[In] this latest report...Foreign Prime Minister Gheit on Nile Television...said that, in confidence, Obama told him that he was a Muslim," says Geller, "and that after he straightened out domestic issues would show the Muslim world how to handle Israel."
Geller also says that while this topic is nothing new, it is further evidence of Obama's sympathetic tendencies towards those who mean harm to the U.S. and his intent to reshape America's religious foundation.
"If you look at the man's record, it's shocking," she laments. "[Especially] when you review how he declared an end to the -- quote, unquote -- 'war on terror'...how he floated the idea that he would talk to the violent, genocidal Hamas, that he insisted and recruited for Muslims in his administration and created an actual new department that reported to Hillary Clinton for the Muslim 'ummah' [the whole Arab world]."
Geller goes on to say that Obama's embrace of Islam shows his hatred toward Israel and effectively abandons the Holy Land, surrounded by its enemies, to fight its own battles.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Alexander's Essay – June 17, 2010
Alexander's Essay – June 17, 2010
The Centennial of Father's Day
And a case study in the fate of the fatherless Barack Obama
"It is the duty of parents to maintain their children decently, and according to their circumstances; to protect them according to the dictates of prudence; and to educate them according to the suggestions of a judicious and zealous regard for their usefulness, their respectability and happiness." --James Wilson
Father's Day was first celebrated the third Sunday in June in the year 1910.
The original observance was in honor of William Jackson Smart, an Arkansas veteran of the War Between the States, who raised a daughter and five sons on his own, after his wife died giving birth to their sixth child. Smart was devoted to his children, as they were to him, and his daughter, Sonora Smart Dodd, wanted to honor her father for that devotion.
Though Mother's Day had been observed in one form or another for centuries, Fathers Day was a fitting complement, and within a few years following the first ceremony, it became a national rite.
While this first formal recognition came about just a century ago, it was abundantly clear to our Founding Fathers that families with both mothers and fathers were critical to the well-being of children.
John Adams wrote, "The foundation of national morality must be laid in private families.... How is it possible that Children can have any just Sense of the sacred Obligations of Morality or Religion if, from their earliest Infancy, they learn their Mothers live in habitual Infidelity to their fathers, and their fathers in as constant Infidelity to their Mothers?"
His wife, Abigail, wrote, "What is it that affectionate parents require of their Children; for all their care, anxiety, and toil on their accounts? Only that they would be wise and virtuous, Benevolent and kind."
The vital role of fathers has been extolled throughout history, in virtually every religion and culture. No less, it is now well understood that the foundation of our nation is "laid in private families," and that this foundation is critical if the next generation is to be "wise and virtuous, Benevolent and kind."
Unfortunately, there is an epidemic of negligence among fathers today, and consequently (according to the CDC, DoJ, DHHS and the Bureau of the Census) the 30 percent of children who live apart from their fathers will account for 63 percent of teen suicides, 70 percent of juveniles in state-operated institutions, 71 percent of high-school dropouts, 75 percent of children in chemical-abuse centers, 80 percent of rapists, 85 percent of youths in prison, 85 percent of children who exhibit behavioral disorders, and 90 percent of homeless and runaway children.
The causal link between fatherless children and crime "is so strong that controlling for family configuration erases the relationship between race and crime and between low income and crime," notes social researcher Barbara Dafoe Whitehead.
More to the point, a counselor at a juvenile-detention facility in California, which has the nation's highest juvenile-incarceration rate, protested, "[If] you find a gang member who comes from a complete nuclear family, I'd like to meet him. ... I don't think that kid exists."
Arguably, the vast majority of social problems confronting our nation today originate in homes without fathers, including those without functioning or effective fathers. (It should be noted here that an increasing number of fatherless homes are the result of mothers who separate from fathers without reasonable grounds for severance.)
"Maturity does not come with age, but with the accepting of responsibility for one's actions," writes Dr. Edwin Cole. "The lack of effective, functioning fathers is the root cause of America's social, economic and spiritual crises."
Of course, there are young people who were raised by a single parent, or in critically dysfunctional or impoverished homes, but who overcame that impediment. Either they were blessed with a parent who, against all but insurmountable odds, instilled their children with the values and virtues of good citizenship or, somewhere along the way, those children were lifted out of their misery by the grace of God -- often in the form of a significant mentor who modeled individual responsibility and character.
As a result, they have been empowered to internalize their locus of responsibility, to take responsibility for the consequences of their choices and behavior.
However, the vast majority of those from homes without fathers externalize responsibility for problems and solutions, holding others to blame for their ills, and bestowing upon the state the duty of providing basic needs and, ultimately, of arbitrating proper conduct.
The failure of fatherhood is more than just a social problem; it is a menacing national security threat. The collective social pathology of the fatherless has dire consequences for the future of Liberty, free enterprise and the survival of our republican form of government as outlined by our Constitution.
One may rightly conclude that most "liberalism," the rejection of Essential Liberty and Rule of Law, is rooted in pathology that runs much deeper than topical ideological indoctrination. Indeed, psychopathology dictates, or frames, worldview, and worldview is manifested in such expressions as political affiliation.
In this respect, the pathology of the Left is transparent.
This pathology tends to result in mental rigidity, fear, anger, aggression and insecurity, the result of low self-esteem and arrested emotional development associated, predominantly, with fatherless households or critically dysfunctional families in which children were not adequately affirmed. Such individuals harbor contempt for those who are self-sufficient for much the same reason. They believe that conforming to a code of non-conformity is a sign of individualism, when it is nothing more than an extreme form of conformism for those who are truly insecure. Though they feign concern for the less fortunate and the primacy of individual liberty, they are ardent statists.
They fear loss because most have suffered significant loss. They often come from socially or economically deprived single-parent homes, though inheritance-welfare trust-babies (see Gore, Kerry, the Kennedys, et al.) manifest similar insecurities about helplessness without external sustenance (their trust funds). They reject individual and social responsibility because such principles were not modeled for them as children -- and the generational implications for Liberty are ominous.
Some of the fatherless (or those with ineffectual fathers), seek to compensate for the resulting insecurities through overachievement, which is to say they are case studies of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, as outlined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders -- the standard reference used for psychiatric evaluation. These deprived children are relentlessly driven by self-interest, narcissism and visions of grandiosity.
The more notorious of narcissists in the last century include Adolf Hitler, Iosif Vissarionouich Djugashvili (Joseph Stalin), Mao Zedong and Saddam Hussein.
The more seemingly benign of the fatherless in recent U.S. political history include Bill Clinton, Albert Gore, John Kerry, and the textbook case of Barack Hussein Obama.
On the official White House website, the bio for Obama begins, "His story is the American story -- values from the heartland, a middle-class upbringing in a strong family..."
That is certainly the image Obama would like to project, but it is most certainly not accurate.
Like so many Leftists, his roots are shallow and broken, and they are in no way a reflection of "values from the heartland."
"Barry," as he was called when a youngster, was born in 1961 to Stanley "Ann" Dunham, an atheist anthropologist, and Barack Obama Sr., a Muslim from the Luo tribe in Kenya. When he was just two, Obama's parents separated and later divorced. Obama's mother then married another Muslim, Lolo Soetoro, an Indonesian national. Barack took his stepfather's name and he and his mother moved with Lolo to Jakarta, where he spent four years in local Islamic schools. Ann and Lolo also divorced, but not before sending Barry to Hawaii to reside with his maternal grandparents and attend the exclusive Punahou School.
In those years, young Obama was greatly influenced by others, most notably an avowed Marxist, Frank Marshall Davis, and later a "spiritual mentor," Jeremiah Wright, who spewed racial hatred.
Barry Obama's search for identityOften accompanying narcissistic pathology, as in the case of Obama, are strong charismatic abilities, which attract a cult of sycophantic followers, or as Obama put it in the opening pages of his political autobiography, "I serve as a blank screen on which people of vastly different political stripes project their own views."
It's no coincidence that Obama's most loyal constituencies are the product of the social, cultural and economic blight in many urban settings, breeding grounds for legions of disenfranchised Leftists, those who are largely dependent on the state for all manner of their welfare, protection and sustenance.
When campaigning for president, Obama proclaimed, "What Washington needs is adult supervision." Unfortunately, young Barry never received enough of it himself that he might provide it to anyone else, much less an entire nation.
To be sure, all good-hearted Americans should possess a measure of compassion for young Barry Obama, whose bizarre formative years were marked by complete familial disintegration.
Unfortunately, misplaced empathy has played a key role in his unchecked rapid rise through the ranks to the most powerful political seat in the world -- at great peril to the future of liberty. Actions have consequences, and the grossly negligent act of electing a "community organizer" to the presidency -- is producing devastating consequences, as even many leftists are now discovering.
So where to go from here?
In regard to fatherhood, the foundational future of our nation will spring from our homes, as John and Abigail Adams understood.
The fate of the fatherless is, at best, a broken heart. At worst, it is the root cause of the social entropy we observe in contemporary American culture, because the fate of the fatherless is directly linked to the faith of the fatherless, their relationship with God the Father. Broken trust with earthly fathers often results in a lack of trust in the Heavenly Father.
On this 100th Father's Day, we should pay tribute to the irreplaceable institution of fatherhood -- and the importance of a father's love, discipline, support and protection for his children. Every day, those of us who are fathers should encourage other fathers to be accountable for their marriages and children. (For excellent fathering resources, link to First Things First).
There is much that can be done for the fatherless -- mentoring through Boy Scouts, coaching little-league sports, teaching in Sunday school, tutoring and volunteering to work with high-risk kids through an inner-city ministry, to name just a few. We, as American Patriots, must bridge the gap for these kids.
As for this publisher, it is a privilege beyond all others to be a husband to Ann and father of three. Indeed, no reward could be greater than the close relationship with my children, and to see their progress as Patriots-in-training -- responsible young citizens committed to carrying forward the flame of liberty.
Semper Vigilo, Fortis, Paratus et Fidelis!
Mark Alexander
Publisher, The Patriot Post
The Centennial of Father's Day
And a case study in the fate of the fatherless Barack Obama
"It is the duty of parents to maintain their children decently, and according to their circumstances; to protect them according to the dictates of prudence; and to educate them according to the suggestions of a judicious and zealous regard for their usefulness, their respectability and happiness." --James Wilson
Father's Day was first celebrated the third Sunday in June in the year 1910.
The original observance was in honor of William Jackson Smart, an Arkansas veteran of the War Between the States, who raised a daughter and five sons on his own, after his wife died giving birth to their sixth child. Smart was devoted to his children, as they were to him, and his daughter, Sonora Smart Dodd, wanted to honor her father for that devotion.
Though Mother's Day had been observed in one form or another for centuries, Fathers Day was a fitting complement, and within a few years following the first ceremony, it became a national rite.
While this first formal recognition came about just a century ago, it was abundantly clear to our Founding Fathers that families with both mothers and fathers were critical to the well-being of children.
John Adams wrote, "The foundation of national morality must be laid in private families.... How is it possible that Children can have any just Sense of the sacred Obligations of Morality or Religion if, from their earliest Infancy, they learn their Mothers live in habitual Infidelity to their fathers, and their fathers in as constant Infidelity to their Mothers?"
His wife, Abigail, wrote, "What is it that affectionate parents require of their Children; for all their care, anxiety, and toil on their accounts? Only that they would be wise and virtuous, Benevolent and kind."
The vital role of fathers has been extolled throughout history, in virtually every religion and culture. No less, it is now well understood that the foundation of our nation is "laid in private families," and that this foundation is critical if the next generation is to be "wise and virtuous, Benevolent and kind."
Unfortunately, there is an epidemic of negligence among fathers today, and consequently (according to the CDC, DoJ, DHHS and the Bureau of the Census) the 30 percent of children who live apart from their fathers will account for 63 percent of teen suicides, 70 percent of juveniles in state-operated institutions, 71 percent of high-school dropouts, 75 percent of children in chemical-abuse centers, 80 percent of rapists, 85 percent of youths in prison, 85 percent of children who exhibit behavioral disorders, and 90 percent of homeless and runaway children.
The causal link between fatherless children and crime "is so strong that controlling for family configuration erases the relationship between race and crime and between low income and crime," notes social researcher Barbara Dafoe Whitehead.
More to the point, a counselor at a juvenile-detention facility in California, which has the nation's highest juvenile-incarceration rate, protested, "[If] you find a gang member who comes from a complete nuclear family, I'd like to meet him. ... I don't think that kid exists."
Arguably, the vast majority of social problems confronting our nation today originate in homes without fathers, including those without functioning or effective fathers. (It should be noted here that an increasing number of fatherless homes are the result of mothers who separate from fathers without reasonable grounds for severance.)
"Maturity does not come with age, but with the accepting of responsibility for one's actions," writes Dr. Edwin Cole. "The lack of effective, functioning fathers is the root cause of America's social, economic and spiritual crises."
Of course, there are young people who were raised by a single parent, or in critically dysfunctional or impoverished homes, but who overcame that impediment. Either they were blessed with a parent who, against all but insurmountable odds, instilled their children with the values and virtues of good citizenship or, somewhere along the way, those children were lifted out of their misery by the grace of God -- often in the form of a significant mentor who modeled individual responsibility and character.
As a result, they have been empowered to internalize their locus of responsibility, to take responsibility for the consequences of their choices and behavior.
However, the vast majority of those from homes without fathers externalize responsibility for problems and solutions, holding others to blame for their ills, and bestowing upon the state the duty of providing basic needs and, ultimately, of arbitrating proper conduct.
The failure of fatherhood is more than just a social problem; it is a menacing national security threat. The collective social pathology of the fatherless has dire consequences for the future of Liberty, free enterprise and the survival of our republican form of government as outlined by our Constitution.
One may rightly conclude that most "liberalism," the rejection of Essential Liberty and Rule of Law, is rooted in pathology that runs much deeper than topical ideological indoctrination. Indeed, psychopathology dictates, or frames, worldview, and worldview is manifested in such expressions as political affiliation.
In this respect, the pathology of the Left is transparent.
This pathology tends to result in mental rigidity, fear, anger, aggression and insecurity, the result of low self-esteem and arrested emotional development associated, predominantly, with fatherless households or critically dysfunctional families in which children were not adequately affirmed. Such individuals harbor contempt for those who are self-sufficient for much the same reason. They believe that conforming to a code of non-conformity is a sign of individualism, when it is nothing more than an extreme form of conformism for those who are truly insecure. Though they feign concern for the less fortunate and the primacy of individual liberty, they are ardent statists.
They fear loss because most have suffered significant loss. They often come from socially or economically deprived single-parent homes, though inheritance-welfare trust-babies (see Gore, Kerry, the Kennedys, et al.) manifest similar insecurities about helplessness without external sustenance (their trust funds). They reject individual and social responsibility because such principles were not modeled for them as children -- and the generational implications for Liberty are ominous.
Some of the fatherless (or those with ineffectual fathers), seek to compensate for the resulting insecurities through overachievement, which is to say they are case studies of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, as outlined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders -- the standard reference used for psychiatric evaluation. These deprived children are relentlessly driven by self-interest, narcissism and visions of grandiosity.
The more notorious of narcissists in the last century include Adolf Hitler, Iosif Vissarionouich Djugashvili (Joseph Stalin), Mao Zedong and Saddam Hussein.
The more seemingly benign of the fatherless in recent U.S. political history include Bill Clinton, Albert Gore, John Kerry, and the textbook case of Barack Hussein Obama.
On the official White House website, the bio for Obama begins, "His story is the American story -- values from the heartland, a middle-class upbringing in a strong family..."
That is certainly the image Obama would like to project, but it is most certainly not accurate.
Like so many Leftists, his roots are shallow and broken, and they are in no way a reflection of "values from the heartland."
"Barry," as he was called when a youngster, was born in 1961 to Stanley "Ann" Dunham, an atheist anthropologist, and Barack Obama Sr., a Muslim from the Luo tribe in Kenya. When he was just two, Obama's parents separated and later divorced. Obama's mother then married another Muslim, Lolo Soetoro, an Indonesian national. Barack took his stepfather's name and he and his mother moved with Lolo to Jakarta, where he spent four years in local Islamic schools. Ann and Lolo also divorced, but not before sending Barry to Hawaii to reside with his maternal grandparents and attend the exclusive Punahou School.
In those years, young Obama was greatly influenced by others, most notably an avowed Marxist, Frank Marshall Davis, and later a "spiritual mentor," Jeremiah Wright, who spewed racial hatred.
Barry Obama's search for identityOften accompanying narcissistic pathology, as in the case of Obama, are strong charismatic abilities, which attract a cult of sycophantic followers, or as Obama put it in the opening pages of his political autobiography, "I serve as a blank screen on which people of vastly different political stripes project their own views."
It's no coincidence that Obama's most loyal constituencies are the product of the social, cultural and economic blight in many urban settings, breeding grounds for legions of disenfranchised Leftists, those who are largely dependent on the state for all manner of their welfare, protection and sustenance.
When campaigning for president, Obama proclaimed, "What Washington needs is adult supervision." Unfortunately, young Barry never received enough of it himself that he might provide it to anyone else, much less an entire nation.
To be sure, all good-hearted Americans should possess a measure of compassion for young Barry Obama, whose bizarre formative years were marked by complete familial disintegration.
Unfortunately, misplaced empathy has played a key role in his unchecked rapid rise through the ranks to the most powerful political seat in the world -- at great peril to the future of liberty. Actions have consequences, and the grossly negligent act of electing a "community organizer" to the presidency -- is producing devastating consequences, as even many leftists are now discovering.
So where to go from here?
In regard to fatherhood, the foundational future of our nation will spring from our homes, as John and Abigail Adams understood.
The fate of the fatherless is, at best, a broken heart. At worst, it is the root cause of the social entropy we observe in contemporary American culture, because the fate of the fatherless is directly linked to the faith of the fatherless, their relationship with God the Father. Broken trust with earthly fathers often results in a lack of trust in the Heavenly Father.
On this 100th Father's Day, we should pay tribute to the irreplaceable institution of fatherhood -- and the importance of a father's love, discipline, support and protection for his children. Every day, those of us who are fathers should encourage other fathers to be accountable for their marriages and children. (For excellent fathering resources, link to First Things First).
There is much that can be done for the fatherless -- mentoring through Boy Scouts, coaching little-league sports, teaching in Sunday school, tutoring and volunteering to work with high-risk kids through an inner-city ministry, to name just a few. We, as American Patriots, must bridge the gap for these kids.
As for this publisher, it is a privilege beyond all others to be a husband to Ann and father of three. Indeed, no reward could be greater than the close relationship with my children, and to see their progress as Patriots-in-training -- responsible young citizens committed to carrying forward the flame of liberty.
Semper Vigilo, Fortis, Paratus et Fidelis!
Mark Alexander
Publisher, The Patriot Post
Monday, June 14, 2010
Is there life after NO
I do not know who wrote this ,but I wanted to share it
Is there life after NO?
It was one of the most difficult seasons we've ever experienced. But by all appearances we were fine. And if anyone asked, that's what we told them.
I smiled at church. I smiled at playgroup. I smiled at Bible study. And I smiled at kids' birthday parties. I smiled for no good reason I could think of. Other than that I was sure no one expected me to respond to their generic, "So, how're you doing?" with a bust gut of agony and bloody tears right there in the meet and greet between the worship and the sermon.
I realized I had been expecting the easy "yes" of what I now recognize as Christianity-lite. I thought if I could grin and bear it long enough, things would finally go my way. I know you've heard it too. The fluffy take on some pretty serious verses that try to tell you, "All you need is faith" and you'll get what you want. "Just believe and the Lord will provide." "Ask and you shall receive." So, this profound and resounding "no" was off my grid by a mile.
I wrestled a long time with this new God of my "no." But slowly I discovered that His answer didn't dismiss my loss. Not if I saw it in the context of His ability to understand and respond to that loss.
That is where He met me. At the cross-roads of his decision and my acceptance of it; He led me out of my heartache and into a season of redemption and beauty. All without changing His answer.
Instead He changed me.
Devotion excerpt by Lisa-Jo, The Gypsy MamaClick to Visit incourage.me to read the entire story »
For I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength. Philipians 4:11-13 NIV
******* Does God bring someone in your life to mind when you read this?
Take time this week to let them know you are praying for them and send them a note of encouragement.
Is there life after NO?
It was one of the most difficult seasons we've ever experienced. But by all appearances we were fine. And if anyone asked, that's what we told them.
I smiled at church. I smiled at playgroup. I smiled at Bible study. And I smiled at kids' birthday parties. I smiled for no good reason I could think of. Other than that I was sure no one expected me to respond to their generic, "So, how're you doing?" with a bust gut of agony and bloody tears right there in the meet and greet between the worship and the sermon.
I realized I had been expecting the easy "yes" of what I now recognize as Christianity-lite. I thought if I could grin and bear it long enough, things would finally go my way. I know you've heard it too. The fluffy take on some pretty serious verses that try to tell you, "All you need is faith" and you'll get what you want. "Just believe and the Lord will provide." "Ask and you shall receive." So, this profound and resounding "no" was off my grid by a mile.
I wrestled a long time with this new God of my "no." But slowly I discovered that His answer didn't dismiss my loss. Not if I saw it in the context of His ability to understand and respond to that loss.
That is where He met me. At the cross-roads of his decision and my acceptance of it; He led me out of my heartache and into a season of redemption and beauty. All without changing His answer.
Instead He changed me.
Devotion excerpt by Lisa-Jo, The Gypsy MamaClick to Visit incourage.me to read the entire story »
For I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength. Philipians 4:11-13 NIV
******* Does God bring someone in your life to mind when you read this?
Take time this week to let them know you are praying for them and send them a note of encouragement.
Monday, May 24, 2010
the last word
The Last Word
"The literacy rate in the United States is 99 percent. That means that only 1 percent of people in the United States above the age of 15 are incapable of reading and writing. Apparently, all of them are members of the Obama administration. Attorney General Eric Holder admits that he has not read the Arizona immigration law, which requires law enforcement officers to check immigration status upon stopping people based on reasonable suspicion of illegal activity. Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano says she hasn't read the law, either. You can also lump State Department spokesman P.J. Crowley into that group. That did not stop any of them from opining at length on the Arizona law; Holder called the law 'a slippery slope' leading to racial profiling, saying he based that opinion on 'television, talking to people who are on the review panel.' Napolitano called the law 'bad law enforcement law.' Crowley defended a U.S. diplomat who actually apologized to China for the immigration law -- as though American states should apologize for enforcing their borders to a country that routinely excises and sells the internal organs of its political prisoners. ... The Arizona law is 15 pages long and runs about 8,000 words. An ADHD-addled teenager could peruse it in an hour. It's been approximately one month since Arizona passed the law, and the Democrats still haven't read it. Which means one of two things: either they prefer to remain ignorant so they don't have to honestly appraise the merits of the bill or they can't read. If it's the former, they're disingenuous liars. If it's the latter, they're ignorant boobs. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and say it's the latter." --columnist Ben Shapiro
"The literacy rate in the United States is 99 percent. That means that only 1 percent of people in the United States above the age of 15 are incapable of reading and writing. Apparently, all of them are members of the Obama administration. Attorney General Eric Holder admits that he has not read the Arizona immigration law, which requires law enforcement officers to check immigration status upon stopping people based on reasonable suspicion of illegal activity. Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano says she hasn't read the law, either. You can also lump State Department spokesman P.J. Crowley into that group. That did not stop any of them from opining at length on the Arizona law; Holder called the law 'a slippery slope' leading to racial profiling, saying he based that opinion on 'television, talking to people who are on the review panel.' Napolitano called the law 'bad law enforcement law.' Crowley defended a U.S. diplomat who actually apologized to China for the immigration law -- as though American states should apologize for enforcing their borders to a country that routinely excises and sells the internal organs of its political prisoners. ... The Arizona law is 15 pages long and runs about 8,000 words. An ADHD-addled teenager could peruse it in an hour. It's been approximately one month since Arizona passed the law, and the Democrats still haven't read it. Which means one of two things: either they prefer to remain ignorant so they don't have to honestly appraise the merits of the bill or they can't read. If it's the former, they're disingenuous liars. If it's the latter, they're ignorant boobs. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and say it's the latter." --columnist Ben Shapiro
Monday, May 3, 2010
brief
Brief · May 3, 2010
The Foundation
"Let the American youth never forget, that they possess a noble inheritance, bought by the toils, and sufferings, and blood of their ancestors." --Joseph Story
Government
Secure the border first"The American president has the power to control America's borders if he wants to, but George W. Bush and Barack Obama did not and do not want to, and for the same reason, and we all know what it is. The fastest-growing demographic in America is the Hispanic vote, and if either party cracks down on illegal immigration, it risks losing that vote for generations. But while the Democrats worry about the prospects of the Democrats and the Republicans about the well-being of the Republicans, who worries about America? No one. Which the American people have noticed, and which adds to the dangerous alienation -- actually it's at the heart of the alienation -- of the age. In the past four years, I have argued in this space that nothing can or should be done, no new federal law passed, until the border itself is secure. That is the predicate, the common sense first step. Once existing laws are enforced and the border made peaceful, everyone in the country will be able to breathe easier and consider, without an air of clamor and crisis, what should be done next. ... Not everything has to be settled right away. Only controlling the border has to be settled right away. Instead, our national establishments deliberately allow the crisis to grow and fester, ignoring public unrest and amusing themselves by damning anyone's attempt to deal with the problem they fear to address. Why does the federal government do this? Because so many within it are stupid and unimaginative and don't trust the American people. Which of course the American people have noticed." --columnist Peggy Noonan
The Foundation
"Let the American youth never forget, that they possess a noble inheritance, bought by the toils, and sufferings, and blood of their ancestors." --Joseph Story
Government
Secure the border first"The American president has the power to control America's borders if he wants to, but George W. Bush and Barack Obama did not and do not want to, and for the same reason, and we all know what it is. The fastest-growing demographic in America is the Hispanic vote, and if either party cracks down on illegal immigration, it risks losing that vote for generations. But while the Democrats worry about the prospects of the Democrats and the Republicans about the well-being of the Republicans, who worries about America? No one. Which the American people have noticed, and which adds to the dangerous alienation -- actually it's at the heart of the alienation -- of the age. In the past four years, I have argued in this space that nothing can or should be done, no new federal law passed, until the border itself is secure. That is the predicate, the common sense first step. Once existing laws are enforced and the border made peaceful, everyone in the country will be able to breathe easier and consider, without an air of clamor and crisis, what should be done next. ... Not everything has to be settled right away. Only controlling the border has to be settled right away. Instead, our national establishments deliberately allow the crisis to grow and fester, ignoring public unrest and amusing themselves by damning anyone's attempt to deal with the problem they fear to address. Why does the federal government do this? Because so many within it are stupid and unimaginative and don't trust the American people. Which of course the American people have noticed." --columnist Peggy Noonan
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Worst Job to have
THIS BROUGHT TEARS TO THIS OLD VIETNAM VET. I CAN RELATE FOR
MOST WOUNDED FROM THE 1ST BRIGADE 101ST ABN DIV AS A MEDIC IN
A CLEARING HOSPITAL I WORKED ON & A LOT OF THE DEAD CAME THRU
THERE ALSO.
CRABBY
This is real as it gets when it comes to those who support our troops. Some people really know or have learned what those words mean.
Burial at Sea
By LT COL George Goodson, USMC (Ret)
In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from time to time,
as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most were trivial.
War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has endured it.
Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic and was wounded
there, Vietnam was my war.
Now 42 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of those days
in Cambodia, Laos, and the panhandle of North Vietnam where small teams
of Americans and Montangards fought much larger elements of the North
Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some exotic, some mundane:
* The smell of Nuc Mam.
* The heat, dust, and humidity.
* The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets.
* Elephants moving silently through the tall grass.
* Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers.
* Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar.
* A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby.
* The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao.
* My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina,
Virginia, and Maryland.
It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in Vietnam.
Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from Indianapolis to
Norfolk, rented a house, enrolled my children in their fifth or sixth
new school, and bought a second car.
A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to Little Creek,
Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office. Appearance is
important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a poster Marine.
I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only 30 days before. At
5'9", I now weighed 128 pounds - 37 pounds below my normal weight. My
uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was yellow from malaria medication,
and I think I had a twitch or two.
I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked at the
nameplate on a Staff Sergeant's desk and said, "Sergeant Jolly, I'm
Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and my Qualification
Jacket."
Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck out
his hand; we shook and he asked, "How long were you there, Colonel?"
I replied, "18 months this time."
Jolly breathed, "You must be a slow learner Colonel."
I smiled.
Jolly said, "Colonel, I'll show you to your office and bring in the
Sergeant Major.
I said, "No, let's just go straight to his office."
Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, "Colonel, the Sergeant
Major. He's been in this job two years. He's packed pretty tight. I'm
worried about him."
I nodded.
Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major's office.
"Sergeant Major, this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Officer."
The Sergeant Major stood, extended his hand and said, "Good to see you
again, Colonel."
I responded, "Hello Walt, how are you?"
Jolly looked at me, raised an eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door.
I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of coffee
and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt's stress was palpable.
Finally, I said, "Walt, what's the hell's wrong?"
He turned his chair, looked out the window and said, "George, you're
going to wish you were back in Nam before you leave here. I've been in
the Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for
14 months, and Vietnam for 12 months. Now I come here to bury these
kids. I'm putting my letter in. I can't take it anymore."
I said, "OK Walt. If that's what you want, I'll endorse your request
for retirement and do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine
Corps."
Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good
Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too much
suffering. He was used up.
Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications, conducted 28
military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the families of Marines
that were severely wounded or missing in action. Most of the details of
those casualty notifications have now, thankfully, faded from memory.
Four, however, remain.
MY FIRST NOTIFICATION
My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I was notified of the death of a 19
year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters
Marine Corps. The information detailed:
* Name, rank, and serial number. * Name, address, and phone number of
next of kin. * Date of and limited details about the Marine's death. *
Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station.
* A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or
closed.
The boy's family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 60 miles
away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state
line into North Carolina, I stopped at a small country store/service
station/Post Office. I went in to ask directions.
Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small
Post Office window. The man held a package. The Storeowner walked up
and addressed them by name, "Hello John. Good morning Mrs. Cooper."
I was stunned. My casualty's next-of-kin's name was John Cooper!
I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, "I beg your pardon. Are you
Mr. and Mrs. John Cooper of (address.)
The father looked at me - I was in uniform - and then, shaking, bent at
the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me.
Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I
think I caught her before she hit the floor.
The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr.
Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I
drove them home in my staff car. The storeowner locked the store and
followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began
arriving.
I returned the storeowner to his business. He thanked me and said,
"Mister, I wouldn't have your job for a million dollars."
I shook his hand and said, "Neither would I."
I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five
Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I
sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the
door, and sat there all night, alone.
My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death
notification.
THE FUNERALS
Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals. I borrowed
Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a
military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and
how to fold the flag.
When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said,
"All Marines share in your grief." I had been instructed to say, "On
behalf of a grateful nation. ..." I didn't think the nation was
grateful, so I didn't say that.
Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn't speak. When
that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder. They
would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, "I'm so sorry you
have this terrible job." My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over
and kissed her.
ANOTHER NOTIFICATION
Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young
PFC. I drove to his mother's house. As always, I was in uniform and
driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took
a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew
open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across
the yard, screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO!"
I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and
whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her
up and carried her into the house. Eight or nine neighbors followed.
Ten or fifteen later, the father came in followed by ambulance
personnel. I have no recollection of leaving.
The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the
drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and
shook his head sadly.
ANOTHER NOTIFICATION
One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant
Jolly held the phone up and said, "You've got another one, Colonel."
I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes,
thanked the officer making the call, I have no idea why, and hung up.
Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone Directory that
translates telephone numbers into the person's address and place of
employment.
The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my
office. I called the Longshoreman's Union Office and asked for the
Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and
asked for the father's schedule.
The Business Manager asked, "Is it his son?"
I said nothing.
After a moment, he said, in a low voice, "Tom is at home today."
I said, "Don't call him. I'll take care of that."
The Business Manager said, "Aye, Aye Sir," and then explained, "Tom and
I were Marines in WWII."
I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I
knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw
instantly that she was clueless. I asked, "Is Mr. Smith home?"
She smiled pleasantly and responded, "Yes, but he's eating breakfast
now. Can you come back later?"
I said, "I'm sorry. It's important. I need to see him now."
She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, "Tom, it's for
you."
A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door.
He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said,
"Jesus Christ man, he's only been there three weeks!"
Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day
while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and
gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth ... I never could do that
... and held an imaginary phone to his ear.
Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, "Got
it," and hung up. I had stopped saying "Thank You" long ago.
Jolly, "Where?"
Me, "Eastern Shore of Maryland. The father is a retired Chief Petty
Officer. His brother will accompany the body back from Vietnam. ..."
Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, "This time of
day, it'll take three hours to get there and back. I'll call the Naval
Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I'll have Captain Tolliver get
one of his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief's home."
He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father's door. He
opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at
parade rest beside the car, and asked, "Which one of my boys was it,
Colonel?"
I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office and
home phone number and told him to call me, anytime.
He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00PM). "I've gone through my
boy's papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you
make that happen?"
I said, "Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will."
My wife who had been listening said, "Can you do that?"
I told her, "I have no idea. But I'm going to break my ass trying."
I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet
Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation, and
asked, "General, can you get me a quick appointment with the Admiral at
Atlantic Fleet Headquarters?"
General Bowser said," George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will
see you.
I was and the Admiral did. He said coldly, "How can the Navy help the
Marine Corps, Colonel." I told him the story. He turned to his Chief
of Staff and said, "Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?" The Chief
of Staff responded with a name.
The Admiral called the ship, "Captain, you're going to do a burial at
sea. You'll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this
mission is completed ..."
He hung up, looked at me, and said, "The next time you need a ship,
Colonel, call me. You don't have to sic Al Bowser on my ass."
I responded, "Aye Aye, Sir" and got the hell out of his office.
I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and the
Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship's crew for four
days. Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He said,
"These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from
floating?"
All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the
Senior Chief stood and said, "Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the
retired guys from World War II hang out."
They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worst for wear, and
said, "It's simple; we cut four 12" holes in the outer shell of the
casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of the
casket. We can handle that, no sweat."
The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General
Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The
sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The
ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth.
The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed
on a catafalque. The Chaplin spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag
was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played
"Eternal Father Strong to Save." The casket was raised slightly at the
head and it slid into the sea.
The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet. The incoming
water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket
stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet,
stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising
from the sinking casket sparkled in the in the sunlight as the casket
disappeared from sight forever. ...
The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar
Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, "General, get me out of
here. I can't take this anymore." I was transferred two weeks later.
I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too much death and
too much suffering. I was used up.
Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car
convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with me. He
waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes, came to
attention, saluted, and said, "Well Done, Colonel. Well Done."
I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor!
A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made payable
to "The United States of America" for an amount of "up to and including
their life."
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no
longer understand it.
Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: NONE
"Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote!"
Ben Franklin
MOST WOUNDED FROM THE 1ST BRIGADE 101ST ABN DIV AS A MEDIC IN
A CLEARING HOSPITAL I WORKED ON & A LOT OF THE DEAD CAME THRU
THERE ALSO.
CRABBY
This is real as it gets when it comes to those who support our troops. Some people really know or have learned what those words mean.
Burial at Sea
By LT COL George Goodson, USMC (Ret)
In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from time to time,
as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most were trivial.
War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has endured it.
Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic and was wounded
there, Vietnam was my war.
Now 42 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of those days
in Cambodia, Laos, and the panhandle of North Vietnam where small teams
of Americans and Montangards fought much larger elements of the North
Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some exotic, some mundane:
* The smell of Nuc Mam.
* The heat, dust, and humidity.
* The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets.
* Elephants moving silently through the tall grass.
* Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers.
* Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar.
* A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby.
* The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao.
* My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina,
Virginia, and Maryland.
It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in Vietnam.
Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from Indianapolis to
Norfolk, rented a house, enrolled my children in their fifth or sixth
new school, and bought a second car.
A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to Little Creek,
Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office. Appearance is
important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a poster Marine.
I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only 30 days before. At
5'9", I now weighed 128 pounds - 37 pounds below my normal weight. My
uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was yellow from malaria medication,
and I think I had a twitch or two.
I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked at the
nameplate on a Staff Sergeant's desk and said, "Sergeant Jolly, I'm
Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and my Qualification
Jacket."
Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck out
his hand; we shook and he asked, "How long were you there, Colonel?"
I replied, "18 months this time."
Jolly breathed, "You must be a slow learner Colonel."
I smiled.
Jolly said, "Colonel, I'll show you to your office and bring in the
Sergeant Major.
I said, "No, let's just go straight to his office."
Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, "Colonel, the Sergeant
Major. He's been in this job two years. He's packed pretty tight. I'm
worried about him."
I nodded.
Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major's office.
"Sergeant Major, this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Officer."
The Sergeant Major stood, extended his hand and said, "Good to see you
again, Colonel."
I responded, "Hello Walt, how are you?"
Jolly looked at me, raised an eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door.
I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of coffee
and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt's stress was palpable.
Finally, I said, "Walt, what's the hell's wrong?"
He turned his chair, looked out the window and said, "George, you're
going to wish you were back in Nam before you leave here. I've been in
the Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for
14 months, and Vietnam for 12 months. Now I come here to bury these
kids. I'm putting my letter in. I can't take it anymore."
I said, "OK Walt. If that's what you want, I'll endorse your request
for retirement and do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine
Corps."
Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good
Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too much
suffering. He was used up.
Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications, conducted 28
military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the families of Marines
that were severely wounded or missing in action. Most of the details of
those casualty notifications have now, thankfully, faded from memory.
Four, however, remain.
MY FIRST NOTIFICATION
My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I was notified of the death of a 19
year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters
Marine Corps. The information detailed:
* Name, rank, and serial number. * Name, address, and phone number of
next of kin. * Date of and limited details about the Marine's death. *
Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station.
* A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or
closed.
The boy's family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 60 miles
away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state
line into North Carolina, I stopped at a small country store/service
station/Post Office. I went in to ask directions.
Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small
Post Office window. The man held a package. The Storeowner walked up
and addressed them by name, "Hello John. Good morning Mrs. Cooper."
I was stunned. My casualty's next-of-kin's name was John Cooper!
I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, "I beg your pardon. Are you
Mr. and Mrs. John Cooper of (address.)
The father looked at me - I was in uniform - and then, shaking, bent at
the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me.
Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I
think I caught her before she hit the floor.
The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr.
Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I
drove them home in my staff car. The storeowner locked the store and
followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began
arriving.
I returned the storeowner to his business. He thanked me and said,
"Mister, I wouldn't have your job for a million dollars."
I shook his hand and said, "Neither would I."
I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five
Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I
sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the
door, and sat there all night, alone.
My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death
notification.
THE FUNERALS
Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals. I borrowed
Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a
military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and
how to fold the flag.
When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said,
"All Marines share in your grief." I had been instructed to say, "On
behalf of a grateful nation. ..." I didn't think the nation was
grateful, so I didn't say that.
Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn't speak. When
that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder. They
would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, "I'm so sorry you
have this terrible job." My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over
and kissed her.
ANOTHER NOTIFICATION
Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young
PFC. I drove to his mother's house. As always, I was in uniform and
driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took
a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew
open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across
the yard, screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO!"
I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and
whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her
up and carried her into the house. Eight or nine neighbors followed.
Ten or fifteen later, the father came in followed by ambulance
personnel. I have no recollection of leaving.
The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the
drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and
shook his head sadly.
ANOTHER NOTIFICATION
One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant
Jolly held the phone up and said, "You've got another one, Colonel."
I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes,
thanked the officer making the call, I have no idea why, and hung up.
Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone Directory that
translates telephone numbers into the person's address and place of
employment.
The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my
office. I called the Longshoreman's Union Office and asked for the
Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and
asked for the father's schedule.
The Business Manager asked, "Is it his son?"
I said nothing.
After a moment, he said, in a low voice, "Tom is at home today."
I said, "Don't call him. I'll take care of that."
The Business Manager said, "Aye, Aye Sir," and then explained, "Tom and
I were Marines in WWII."
I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I
knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw
instantly that she was clueless. I asked, "Is Mr. Smith home?"
She smiled pleasantly and responded, "Yes, but he's eating breakfast
now. Can you come back later?"
I said, "I'm sorry. It's important. I need to see him now."
She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, "Tom, it's for
you."
A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door.
He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said,
"Jesus Christ man, he's only been there three weeks!"
Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day
while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and
gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth ... I never could do that
... and held an imaginary phone to his ear.
Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, "Got
it," and hung up. I had stopped saying "Thank You" long ago.
Jolly, "Where?"
Me, "Eastern Shore of Maryland. The father is a retired Chief Petty
Officer. His brother will accompany the body back from Vietnam. ..."
Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, "This time of
day, it'll take three hours to get there and back. I'll call the Naval
Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I'll have Captain Tolliver get
one of his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief's home."
He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father's door. He
opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at
parade rest beside the car, and asked, "Which one of my boys was it,
Colonel?"
I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office and
home phone number and told him to call me, anytime.
He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00PM). "I've gone through my
boy's papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you
make that happen?"
I said, "Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will."
My wife who had been listening said, "Can you do that?"
I told her, "I have no idea. But I'm going to break my ass trying."
I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet
Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation, and
asked, "General, can you get me a quick appointment with the Admiral at
Atlantic Fleet Headquarters?"
General Bowser said," George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will
see you.
I was and the Admiral did. He said coldly, "How can the Navy help the
Marine Corps, Colonel." I told him the story. He turned to his Chief
of Staff and said, "Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?" The Chief
of Staff responded with a name.
The Admiral called the ship, "Captain, you're going to do a burial at
sea. You'll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this
mission is completed ..."
He hung up, looked at me, and said, "The next time you need a ship,
Colonel, call me. You don't have to sic Al Bowser on my ass."
I responded, "Aye Aye, Sir" and got the hell out of his office.
I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and the
Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship's crew for four
days. Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He said,
"These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from
floating?"
All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the
Senior Chief stood and said, "Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the
retired guys from World War II hang out."
They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worst for wear, and
said, "It's simple; we cut four 12" holes in the outer shell of the
casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of the
casket. We can handle that, no sweat."
The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General
Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The
sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The
ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth.
The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed
on a catafalque. The Chaplin spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag
was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played
"Eternal Father Strong to Save." The casket was raised slightly at the
head and it slid into the sea.
The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet. The incoming
water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket
stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet,
stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising
from the sinking casket sparkled in the in the sunlight as the casket
disappeared from sight forever. ...
The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar
Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, "General, get me out of
here. I can't take this anymore." I was transferred two weeks later.
I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too much death and
too much suffering. I was used up.
Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car
convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with me. He
waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes, came to
attention, saluted, and said, "Well Done, Colonel. Well Done."
I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor!
A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made payable
to "The United States of America" for an amount of "up to and including
their life."
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no
longer understand it.
Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: NONE
"Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote!"
Ben Franklin
Thursday, April 8, 2010
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