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For all of the men and women who have served in the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Coast Guard, and the Merchant Marines, past or present, I have two words:
MUCH OBLIGED!
Veterans Day 2005
I love email.
With email, there's no muss and no fuss. No paper or pens. No envelopes or stamps to lick. No waiting upteen days for your letter to get to where it's going and or waiting upteen days to get back a reply.
With email, all you have to do is log on, type it, send it, and they've got it. Got it in an instant no matter where in the world your "they" might happen to be. And this is especially wonderful if you're one of the many Americans presently corresponding with friends and loved ones serving in our Armed Forces in combat zones overseas.
With Veterans Day fast approaching, it is of the utmost importance that we here in the safety of our own homes take time to remember the sacrifices our countrymen and women in arms have made for us all. Men and women who sleep with one eye open every night lest our enemies catch them unawares.
I recently received a picture through the email of a dear friend is one in one of those combat zones as we speak and this picture pretty well sums up what I'm talking about. One of her buddies snapped the picture while she and her platoon were stretched out to catch a few winks on the sands of what would appear to otherwise be on the shore of some exotic beach. It shows my friend all dressed up in full combat gear, helmet and all, laid back and spraddled out in a peaceful slumber while at the same time cradling a fully loaded, fully automatic M-16 rifle in her lap.
And you thought you had trouble sleeping.
It's because of people like my friend that I've always stood in awe of our American fighting personnel. These are people who've had the courage and guts to wade into Hell on earth for our sake and who've lived through and seen horrors the depth of which we home bound Americans can never fully know even when those who have been they tell us about them or show us the pictures.
It's even harder for me to grasp that while on the same night my friend was sleeping with that machine gun resting gingerly in her lap I was most likely sleeping lazily in my hammock with my toothless old dog Millie by my side.
In one of her last emails, my friend demonstrated all of the qualities that make American troops so great and so dear to us all. In between her comments on how I live at High Grass Manor and the people where she's at in live in mud huts and at No Grass Manor, and about how she loves the native children who give the thumbs up sign as her convoy drives by, and about how she's learning to drink coffee even though it's vanilla flavored so she can be a good civilian cop when she comes home, she threw in a quick line that didn't quite fit in with the light banter of all the rest. It is a line that seems to have been added more as a quick closing aside than anything else and though this line shows no fear, or real concern on the part of the writer, it quickly demonstrates to this reader the grim reality and dangers of war that my friend and her comrades in arms are facing every day they're away from us.
The line read simply this, "Well, we got mortared again today, it goes on about every other day around here and I always just pray they don't come close and so far so good."
The email is then ended with the word "Later!", punctuated in a way that indicates that even though my friend in a place where mortar fire is seemingly treated as a minor routine annoyance, her spirits her high, her moral is good, and she and those with her are determined to succeed in their mission for freedom.
It reminded me too that this correspondence wasn't with a friend in an office across town or in a suburban American home, but rather with a friend in the middle of a very real war. A war that exists while I sit in the safe office and live in the safe home only because of the bravery and courage of American troops like my friend and those with her, and those who have gone before her.
Be sure to remember my friend and all our troops in your prayers each night before you turn off your lights to go to sleep. Ask God to protect them and to send them all home safe. And thank God for them.
Memorial Day 2005
Memorial Day weekend is looked at by most of us here in the United States as the official start of the summer season. Our lakes and rivers fill up with boats of all kinds, folks of all stripes head to the mountains and the beaches, and Americans all over this great nation begin vacating wide open from sea to shining sea and we won’t stop until Labor Day overtakes us.
On Memorial Day weekend if you don’t have at least one barbeque or weenie roast at your place, or at least go to one, you ain’t from around here. Even Yankees are cultured enough to do this.
Here at High Grass Manor we had our own Memorial weekend hootenanny too. Kathleen turned 8 on Saturday so it was weenies all around.
And in between all that, I managed to take part in a new sport I have created I call Recreational Hammocking. This sport involves a big Pawley’s Island hammock I got this for my birthday. I’ve hung it between two large trees in a clump of four that sit on the edge of the back slope of my yard. The trees form a canopy of leaves like a roof and in the middle of the trees I’ve made a fire ring out of rocks I’ve drug up from the creek.
Every evening about 9:30 I climb in that hammock and I’m usually followed by Millie the Dog and both children. We’ve been known to sleep out there until 3 in the morning.
From this perch we can also watch the Fat Bat of High Grass Manor as she makes her way across the midnight sky, and no I’m not talking about Laurie either. This is a real bat that's gotten so fat from eating all those bugs she eats you can actually hear her wings thumping like a helicopter. Laurie usually stays in the house.
Laying out in that hammock and swaying in the breeze with my children and dog, and listening to the owls hooting in the night, all is right with the world.
At least here in my part of the world anyway. In other parts of the world and for our troops in them things aren’t quite so good. With the wars we’re currently involved in Iraq and Afghanistan and rumors of wars that might need to be fought in other places, our military and their families are having a rather tough time of it right now.
In peace and in war from the Revolutionary War up to this present date, it has always been so for our military and their loved ones. They are the ones who pay dearly for the freedom and peace we all enjoy. So far in the history of our nation an awful lot of our men and women have died make us and keep us free.
And that’s what Memorial Day is really all about- celebrating the lives of those who made it all happen but who didn’t make it back home to enjoy it with us.
Last November I wrote to you about a friend of mine serving in the N.C. National Guard who had emailed me to say he was overseas in the combat zone. I bumped into him last fall after he came home and I was surprised to learn that while overseas he and several of his buddies liked to hit my website and read these humorous stories from home.
Now I have to tell you, that’s a pretty humbling thing for a country boy who began writing only to aggravate his Yankee wife to find soldiers in the combat zone his writing. Humbling enough that I contacted the N.C. National Guard and offered to take my humor to their troops anywhere they might happen to be or to their families here at home.
I was honored when they took me up on my offer and asked me to be part of a family day event at the Morrisville, NC Armory the first Saturday in May for the families of several deployed units from that area. I made plans, polished my stories and my cowboy boots, and brushed my best Stetson hat. I was so happy I could bust.
Then on the afternoon before the event I got a call from the lady at the Armory who booked me. She called to tell me the event had been canceled for now because a helicopter from one of their units had just crashed in the Cape Fear River. The hall previously slated for humor and fun was now being used for the grim task of recovery operations. There would be no joy in Morrisville of any kind that weekend.
So as you enjoy your Memorial Day week, set some time aside to give thanks for those who gave it all so you can. And make sure you tell your children what this day is all about too.
Of Childhood Dreams and Safe, Peaceful Nights
Last weekend I fulfilled a childhood dream. Not a big dream like marrying my best friend, or becoming a police captain, or a published writer or such. I've done all those and I thank God every day for letting me.
No, this was more of a dream about something I wanted to do when I was a child but never got to.
When I was boy I was actively involved in Scouting and throughout my entire Boy Scout career, every month like clockwork I received Boys Life Magazine in the mail. I loved Boys Life because it was full of the stories about the adventures of boys just like me. My favorite of all were the stories of Scouts who had earned medals for bravely saving someones life. I always wanted to do something brave enough to earn one of these medals but somehow I never got around to it.
But earning a heros medal wasn't my real dream.
My real dream was a simple one. It was birthed in back the section of the magazine where they put all the advertisements for military schools and sold kits that let you turn your mommas vacuum cleaner into a hovercraft. I never could figure out what could possibly make my moms Electrolux fly, and I never will know since she had enough sense not to let me buy one.
But it was the ad with the picture of the U.S.S. Yorktown on it that urged Scouts to come to Charleston, SC to "Spend A Night On A Real Aircraft Carrier" that caught my eye and sparked this particular dream. I would've loved nothing more than to spend the night on an air craft carrier since I wanted to be Pappy Boyington when I grew up anyhow. But of all the things we did in Troop 12 Mt. Holly, NC, spending the night on an aircraft carrier wasn't one of them.
And here now, at 38 years of age, I finally got my chance when I along with my wife Laurie, and two children Jacob, Kathleen went with Jacobs Cub Scout Pack 33 of Lowell, NC down to Patriot's Point last weekend. There we spent the weekend with over 500 other Scouts and YMCA Indian Guides living and sleeping on this great historic ship.
But there was more to this experience than just walking through old ships and sleeping in the crews racks. What it really was, was a rare chance for children and parents who live in a society where the term hero can be so loosely applied, to stand and sleep in a place where real live actual heroes did live, and some died, for our freedom.
It gave us a chance to walk through ships and learn about the men and women who gave there lives so that today you're reading this in English instead of in Japanese or German, and who gave their lives for a freedom that lets you read it in a newspaper produced by a free press and not the propaganda machine of a totalitarian government.
Patriots Point features three ships and one submarine, a Vietnam memorial, and a Cold War submarine memorial and everywhere you go in this place of honor you are vividly reminded of the sacrifices made by the hundreds of thousands of American soldiers, sailors, marines, airmen, and coast guardsmen who from 1776 to this very moment in time have fought to keep this nation free. The folks at Patriots Point have outdone themselves with the static displays they've created to remind us of the real events and of the real people who as one exhibit reminded us, "gave their today, for our tomorrow."
And last Saturday night at the end of an impressive day, I piled up in my rack worn out from chasing 7 children all over what seemed like every ship in the fleet. When the lights finally went out and Taps began to softly sound through a ship now permanently docked in a safe harbor, I couldn't help but think of the men who some 60 years ago went to sleep in these same racks not knowing if their night would be shattered by a Japanese attack.
Or of the men and women who were in the many giant C-5 Galaxy aircraft I had seen all day long coming and going from the Charleston Air Force Base. From their flight paths it was plainly evident they were busily carrying men and women to and from harm's way.
The words to Taps also went through my mind as well.
Day is done,
Gone the sun,
From the lakes, From the hills,
From the sky.
All is well,
Safely rest,
God is nigh.
Every time we hear this mournful refrain as it sounds to signal the end of the day or as its played to sound the end of a brave American's life, Taps should ever remind us all that the price of freedom we all enjoy, the freedom that lets us reach for all of our earthly hopes and dreams was paid for with heavy price. A price that none of us must ever take for granted.
A Well Deserved Standing Ovation
I was checking my email last Thursday night when I noticed one that read, From A Place Far, Far Away. I opened it up and sure enough was.
All the way from the burning sands of the Middle East where an old friend of mine is, as we speak, standing there smack dab in the middle of harms way serving this country.
Standing there far, far away from family and friends. Standing in a place so far away from our way of life, that life itself means little if nothing at all. Standing in a place where misguided people blow themselves up because some clown told them that’d buy them a one-way ticket into heaven.
Standing there, while I sit here, safe and secure in the comfort of my very own suburban American home surrounded by family and friends.
Sitting here on Memorial Day. The day those of us who were never served in the military get the day off to celebrate the military service of veterans past and present. They did all the work and we get the day off.
And I like most other Americans had the chance to join the military. Several good chances if you want to know the truth about it. I spent my 17th birthday at the of the U.S. Marine Corps recruiter trying to join the Marine Corps Reserve. My plan was to graduate high school, join the reserves, and start college in the fall.
The recruiter had a different plan. It was a 6 year active plan. He made some good points but he won the battle and lost the war. I didn’t join the reserves, all right, but I ended up not joining period. Right after he said that if they found out at Parris Island I was in the reserves, they’d really let me have it. He had already pointed out that people serving time in the penitentiary had it better than the recruits at Parris Island. So I stayed home.
In the Fall of 1983, my senior year of high school, I tried it again. This time I went over to the N.C. Air National Guard in Charlotte and met with their recruiter, Master Sergeant Dick Adair. Master Sgt. Adair filled out all the paper work needed to sign me up as security policeman, got my dad sign the under age waiver, and had me all set for swearing in. I was ready too.
The last hurdle I had to leap was interview with the base commander, Col. Bundy, a tough, grizzled old veteran of the old school. Master Sgt. Adair escorted me into the Colonel’s office and sat me down in front of him. The colonel began questioning me as he thumbed through my paperwork.
“So, you want to be a security policeman, huh?
“Yes, sir.”
“You ever been a policeman before?” (Bare in mind I was 17 at the time.)
“No, sir.”
“How do you know you’ll like being a security policeman?”
“Sir, I…Uh..”
The colonel cut me off and interjetted and growled the following, “Do realize you’ll be committed to the United States government until 1992?
No indeed. I actually had not.
And the Saturday morning I was to swear in, I stood the Master Sergeant up.
I missed several other really good opportunities, and of all the things I’ve ever done I have done and accomplished, I’ve never been in the military. I’m not proud of that fact either.
But by God, I am proud of those who have. The rest of America is too.
No matter whether we believe we ought to be in this war or not, everyone single one of us believe in our soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines, and Coast Guard personnel stationed all over this world.
I saw this demonstrated recently as I attended Award’s day at my children’s elementary school. As one child received his award, the principal recognized the child’s father, who had just returned from duty in Iraq.
And all in one motion every man, woman, and child in that packed gymnasium rose to their feet, turned to face that soldier, and gave him one of the longest heartfelt standing ovations I’ve ever seen.
So on Memorial Day 2004, here’s to my buddy far, far away, and to every other American service person, past or present, y’all need to hear one thing today loud and clear.
That standing ovation was meant for you too.
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