Karma strikes and a neat aircraft sighting.

First the aircraft. I was outside today and heard a heavy helicopter. Looked up and saw a CH-47 airframe with a refueling probe. I'm pretty sure (Maybe NOTR can verify or correct me) that as there is no HH-47 (that would be a search and rescue bird) a CH-47 airframe with the probe is an MH-47 Pave Low--a bird specially tailored for Special Operations work.

Now for the Karma. Had a bad baseball game the other day in which the coaches and manager of one of the teams behaved like spoiled children. Bunch of tough guys, all of whom had applied to coach an all-star team (thus ensuring their sons slots on the team). I've had prior complaints about this crew from my umpires. Turns out the league commisioner has as well. He's a good guy even if we have had some differences. Told him about the game and he went ahead and yanked their applications. Karma, baby.

Had a call on the answering machine when I got home tonight. Some name I don't recognize who wants to talk to the guy in charge of the umpires. It was too late to return the call, but I will tomorrow. I suspect it's probably the manager I got in trouble. I'll call him tomorrow--could be fun.

Earlier I threatened to post something for Memorial Day. On second thought, it's much more appropriate for Veterans' Day, so you'll have to suffer through my own thoughts on Memorial Day.

Went to the parade today. I couldn't resist wearing an I Love Me hat that the kids bought for me at the Airborne and Special Operations Museum two summers ago. Nice hat with a full color SF patch and tab on it, celebrating the 50th anniversary of Special Forces. Lots of other hats there, so I wasn't alone. It was a nice parade, though small--as befits a small town. Afterwards there was a ceremony at the cemetary.

Car went by with a group of disabled vets in it. My wife said "They're like daddy". (I get a pension due to being hurt while training). I said "No, they're not. They got theirs legitimately". She didn't hear me and asked me to repeat it. I couldn't.

In fact, I couldn't talk for most of the parade.

I noticed that the stores are stocked up with fireworks--at least the lame excuses for fireworks that we're allowed in this lame excuse for a state. It seems a bit early to be stocking for the 4th of July, but I hope they're not thinking people will want them today. Don't get me wrong--I love fireworks. Next to hurting people, blowing things up is one of my favorite pursuits. But today isn't a day for fireworks. It's a day for reflection and honoring those who gave everything for this country.

There's a lot to remember. Those who never came back. Those who came back minus limbs and faces. And those whose bodies came back, walking and talking, but it wasn't him anymore.

Flint Kaserne, at Bad Toelz, Germany, had a large wooden statue of a Special Forces soldier, hand carved by a local artisan. It's probably at Panzer Kaserne in Stuttgart now. Next to the statue was a plaque with the names of 10th Group soldiers who died in Vietnam. One day I was looking at the plaque and one of the old Chief Warrant Officers stopped and stood with me for a moment. He pointed out a name on the plaque and told me that the guy was the only soldier he knew who wore his flak vest all of the time. He was shot through the side, where the front and back of the vest didn't meet.

No greater love. People join the military to serve their country, but it turns out that in actual combat men do the things they do without thought for country, but for their buddies. You may wonder why old soldiers are they way they are, preferring each others' company. The bond is incredible. Even never having experienced combat, I feel a stronger bond to military and ex-military types than to anyone else.

Anyway, to all of those past, present and future who have given their very lives so that the rest of us may live free in the greatest country on this planet--Thanks.

"These are the times that try men's souls..."

Had the longest day of baseball I've ever had today. To start things off, someone decided it was a good idea to schedule games on Memorial Day weekend. My umpires have lives. People with lives sometimes do things other than baseball and three-day weekends are prime time for such pursuits.

I literally bled finding umpires for today. For some reason half of the guys are heading to West Virginia, of all places, for the weekend. If there's some sort of weird Gathering of the Umpires in WV, I'm not privy to it. Got most of the games covered, but not all. I decided rain was my last option. I thought about running out back naked and doing some sort of rain ceremony but decided the sight of me unclothed would only frighten the rainclouds away. Finally decided I'd done all I could and let the cards fall where they may. I covered the Senior League double header, but only half of the Junior League double header. Late afternoon I discovered that the Senior League games had been canceled. Had someone told me that I could have reassigned the umpires to cover the Junior League game. When I make mistakes like that there's one commissioner in particular who likes to crawl up my large intestine...

To give you an idea, I started the morning with a fresh charge in my cell phone and by noon I had completely exhausted the battery and had to recharge it.

Later I got a phone call from someone who was wondering where the umpire was for her 6:00 game. Gotta love this one: The scheduled umpire is her son. I have no idea what the resolution was--I was calling a game at the time and when I got the message at 8:00 after my game finished I just didn't even bother.

Had a strong plate umpire scheduled for the 5:00 game along with my son on bases. At 3:45 the plate umpire called to say he couldn't make it. My only option was to put my son behind the plate and me on bases. My son calls bases well, but has never been behind the plate. I've done the plate but can't any longer due to a seriously advanced case of Paratrooper's Knees. Got to the game and realized that one of the teams was the team that all of the umpires complain to me about. The game got ridiculous and I unfortunately lost control because I was concerned about a perception that I was shielding my son from criticism. I should have tossed the manager and one coach from the bonehead team (which was winning until the bottom of the very last inning). I plan on doing more of their games with a stronger plate umpire and I will toss both of them next time. Might take aim at some parents as well. The bonehead team's parents we pretty much across the line, too.

Oddly the players, coaches and parents from the team that losing all along remained a class act.

If you want proof that there is a God, just maybe it's here: The Orioles' players, coaches and parents were a class act, even though they were behind the whole game. The Indians were ahead the whole time and behaved like spoiled children. Bottom of the last inning the Orioles got a couple of kids on base, then some huge kid comes up to bat and cranks an in-the-park home run. Orioles win.

Walking off the field I passed an Orioles coach and muttered "Bunch of f**king babies". He thanked me.

One of the Orioles' moms is a girl (I guess she's a woman now) I dated um, ahem, 28 years ago. She was all bundled up against the cold. I told her I couldn't believe she was cold. She countered that they were in the shade. Hmm, I said. Plenty of heat down here...They all laughed, having seen the crap we were putting up with from the Indians.

She's still cute, by the way, despite being nearly as ancient as I.

Maybe I'm just hypersensitive to this topic...

I'm not a soldier anymore. I had every intention of being a career soldier but as I broke various parts of my body it was no longer a possibility. Nonetheless, I remember well and fondly my days as a soldier and retain respect and affection for those who serve.

So given that, maybe my antennae are perhaps overly sensitive. But I just feel like there is a growing "screw the soldiers" sentiment in the land, reminiscent of the Vietnam era backlash against military personnel.

There is definitely an anti-military thing going on with schools taking measures to try and prevent military recruiters from accessing their students. The schools are making the spurious claim that recruiters are directing their efforts at the disadvantaged, claiming that the US wants some sort of weird military where the soldiers can't read the "This Side Toward Enemy" stamp on a claymore mine. This idea is only flawed on about 97 different levels. And secondly, for schools to shut out what may be a life changing choice-either as a career or as a leg up into the rest of their life-for disadvantaged students is immoral. Nobody knows how many disadvantaged high schoolers parlayed a hitch in the military into a highly successful adult life.

The military doesn't focus their recruiting efforts at the disadvantaged, as some claim. Infantry soldiers, the so-called "cannon fodder", tend to be very intelligent, highly motivated individuals. Clerks and typists tend to fall at the opposite end of the spectrum. And even if recruiters did stalk the disadvantaged-so what? At least they're offering them possibilities.

Apart from the ant-recruiting movement I'm getting the feeling that there is a growing sentiment against the men and women in the military. In the wake of the Marines' decision not to prosecute 2LT Pantano I saw an astonishing wave of posts vehemently condemning US military personnel as unaccountable killers, etc.

It would seem that Michael Crook (an utter punk) is only the tip of the steaming pile...

I could go on at incredible length on this topic. It's one I hold dear. But rather than bore you further with a novel-sized post, let me just assure you that I'll keep a finger as close to this anti-military pulse as I can stomach.

Since I'm on a Kipling roll, let's revisit him. I was saving this for Memorial Day, but it addresses the treatment that military people receive from (some) civilians on a daily basis. Not to worry, I still have one up my sleeve for Memorial Day.

Thomas Atkins is a general name applied to British troops, supposedly from a real Thomas Adkins who was a lion of a soldier. Just as British police are often called "Bobbys" after Robert Peeler, so are British soldiers referred to as "Tommy"

TOMMY

I went into a public-’ouse to get a pint o’ beer,
The publican ’e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:
O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;
But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play,—
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but ’adn’t none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-’alls,
But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! they’ll shove me in the stalls!
For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;
But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide,—
The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide,
O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide.

Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap;
An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit.
Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, ’ow’s yer soul?”
But it’s “Thin red line of ’eroes” when the drums begin to roll,—
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it’s “Thin red line of ’eroes” when the drums begin to roll.

We aren’t no thin red ’eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints;
While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind”,
But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there’s trouble in the wind,—
There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind,
O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there’s trouble in the wind.

You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires, an’ all:
We’ll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace.
For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”
But it’s “Saviour of ’is country” when the guns begin to shoot;
An’ it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ anything you please;
An’ Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool—you bet that Tommy sees!

I've been passed the popcorn. Barb of Righty in a Lefty State has tagged me to be next in line for a movie poll.

Ok. Here goes:

Total number of films I own on DVD/video:

I'd say roughly 75 based on a quick and dirty count/estimation. Quite a few of them need to go--Thomas the Tank Engine took us through the early years, but someone else couldmake better use of him now.

The last film I bought:
Cats and Dogs


The last film I watched:
At the movies: The Incredibles
Here: Cats and Dogs

Five films that I watch a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order):
I assume this is limited to films I possess

Almost hate to admit it, but yes, I have The Green Berets on DVD
Cats and Dogs-- Juvenile humor, but hysterical.
Second Hand Lions-- Quite possibly my favorite movie ever.
Metropolis--A morality play, but with a striking interpretation of the future. Reminds me of the 1964 World's Fair (Yes, I was there and remember it)
Pirates of the Carribbean--Don't much care for Johnny Depp as a person, but his portrayal of Captain Jack Sparrow is a work of art.

Now I have to subject someone else to this introspection...

Jack Army says it's "Self-Portrait Friday". Who am I to argue?

This photo was taken on Smoke Bomb Hill following graduation with SFQC 5-81. Back then only paratroopers wore camouflage fatigues. As trainees we had to wear the all green "pickle suit" fatigues even though we were on airborne status.

It's not obvious, but the white-bordered flash on my beret is a 20th Group flash. Later, when I converted to active duty, I wore an all-green flash.



1981

It took far too long, but the Marines finally came to their senses in the case of Lieutenant Ilario Pantano.

He won't be prosecuted, but the devil got his due in this case. 2LT Pantano's career is trashed, he's been dragged throught the mud, he has most likely expended considerable financial resources--in short, his life has been irrevocably changed. All over accusations made by a disaffected sergeant.

By all accounts Pantano is a superb officer and held in high regard by his men and his peers. On the other hand, Pantano's accusser, one SGT Coburn, is known to be incompetent and a slacker. When Patano finally tired of Coburn's incompetence he removed him from his leadership position. Coburn clearly was seeking revenge. The one man who was in a position to witness exactly what did occur that day, Navy Corpsman Gobles, backed Pantano's statement.

Like Ray Donovan before him, 2LT Pantano now finds himself in the position of wondering where to go to get his reputation back.

Rudyard Kipling understood the travails of military service.

From "That Day":

It got beyond all orders an’ it got beyond all ’ope;
It got to shammin’ wounded an’ retirin’ from the ’alt.
’Ole companies was lookin’ for the nearest road to slope;
It were just a bloomin’ knock-out—an’ our fault!

Now there ain’t no chorus ’ere to give,
Nor there ain’t no band to play;
An’ I wish I was dead ’fore I done what I did,
Or seen what I seed that day!

Posted below some clarification about the videos I linked to the other day.

I'm on a roll now. I don't watch much TV, but I just turned it on to check the weather. Saw uniforms, so I stopped on the channel to see what was on. Turns out it's an A&E channel show about the siege of An Loc, part of the so-called Easter Offensive during the war in Vietnam.

One of my pet peeves is people who get paid to write news about the military and get it wrong. Recently the local paper wrote a piece about the "82nd Engineer Armored Tank Division". Anyone with the most rudimentary knowledge of the military could tell you there's something wrong with that name. There are no engineer divisions, engineers and tanks are two different things and "Armored Tank" is redundant. The writer was actually referring to the 82nd Engineer Battalion (SEP). Oh, and the editor never responded to my note regarding that article...

Anyway, I decided to watch the A&E show for a moment and the first thing I hear is that So and So was flying an OB-10. Ain't no such thing. They meant OV-10 Bronco. O stands for Observation and I think the V stands for Fixed Wing, but I'm not going to swear to that. But I know for absolutely certain it's OV and not OB. Then to cap it off, they showed footage of an OV-2 Skymaster. There are some similarities in the empennage, but that's about it. They're two entirely different aircraft.

If you're going to get paid big bucks to write about the military, get it right, dammit.

The OV-10, by the way, bears the distinction of being the only US Army aircraft, past or present, to have ejection seats.

As I have noted here before, I did the military thing backwards. Most people do an active duty hitch then finish their service obligation in the reserves or National Guard. I started out in the National Guard as a way to help pay for college and then found myself enjoying it a bit too much, so I went active duty.

At any rate, while serving in the 20th Special Forces Group (National Guard) I became aware of an officer named Stephen Blum. He was no longer assigned to 20th Group, but regularly attended functions with the unit. I met him on a few occasions and I know that he was highly thought of by the men in the unit. I should capitalize that. He was HIGHLY though of by the men. He was held in the absolute highest regard.

Now, by a happy accident, I just discovered that Lieutenant General H. Stephen Blum is the chief of the National Guard Bureau. Top dog of all National Guard in the United States. Congratulations, General Blum.

Via Scottish Tanker Hooligans, an excellent post about the war and why we are prosecuting it in the manner that we are. Read it here.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

I did nothing of note today besides baseball. Snake Eater, Jr. got to go to a 13th birthday party for his squeeze, but I was boring.

What a day, though. I've noted that the Minor League is the most difficult league to schedule umpires for. Adults mostly won't do the games because they can't crouch down far enough to see a 9-year old's strike zone and the kids who call games are fickle at best. They have part-time jobs, proms, family events...you name it. And the fact that the coaches and parents at the minor league level are by far the most abusive doesn't help one bit.

Had a Junior League game which was originally scheduled for 9:30. One of the teams is coached by some college kids who had graduation today, so the game was moved to 9:00. I was notified of the change, but neither team was. Already we're off to a bad beginning.

Arrive at the field at 7:00 because it rained all night. By 9:00 despite efforts it's clear that the game will have to be postponed until 11:00. All well and good, except both guys calling the 12:00 Minor League game are on the team that now won't play until 11:00. Make call to Minor League commissioner. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to find coaches to call the game. Phone call degenerates into a shouting match after which I call the league president and inform him that from now on the Minor League guy can find his own &%^*&^ umpires because I can't deal with the $%**(_& a$$hole.

At this point the entire day is in turmoil. I have umpires who can call games in the AM, but not PM. As reports come in from various fields it becomes clear that I'm losing umpires right and left due to postponed games. Fortunately one field is deemed flat unplayable, so I was able to use that umpire on another game.

Just as I was about to plummit into the abyss of total hopelessness the area commissioner for Little League showed up. We went through some names of umpires while I recited each guy's reason for not being able to do games today. Then he says "How about Cindy?". I have no Cindys on my list. In fact, I have no women whatsoever on the list I've been given. He called her and Deus ex machina, she was available. Not only is Cindy available today, but I find myself in the presence of greatness--She's been selected to call games for the Girls' Fastpitch World Series this year. Holy crow...Then he gave me a book listing all of the umpires in the state who belong to some umpire association. Suddenly I have twice the number of potential umpires as I had before.

A high point in a low day.

Then it's Snake Eater Jrs. game (the one that was postponed until 11:00). They hammered the other team and ended the game early by ten-running them.

Now I'm off to a Minor League game where I have two very young umpires assigned and I've decided to make it a three-man crew (me being the third) so that I can read the riot act to the managers. "I have two young umpires here, and they're here to learn just the same as your kids are here to learn. I will brook no nonsense whatsoever. I won't hesitate to stop this game until the league president arrives (per rules), and he's out of town at his grandson's track meet. I'm placing you on notice and I expect you to place your parents on notice". (can you tell I was in a bad mood by this point?)

Well, the game never happened. One of the managers could only muster eight players (and this is a guy who would give me no end of bad time if I couldn't find an umpire for him...). Technically if you only have eight players, every time you hit number nine in the batting order, it's an automatic out. He decided he didn't want to play that game and took his kids and went home. Technically a forfeit. Why the two managers couldn't get together and decide to ditch the ninth batter rule and just let their kids play baseball is beyond me. I wasn't involved--they made the decision while we stood watching pre-game practice and never said a word to us. As a league officer I'd have told them to forget the automatic out and just let their kids play the game.

Nah. Too easy. Tempers flare at minor league games like Fourth of July fireworks, and yet play at that level is almost comical. Pitchers go into HUGE windups only to lob the ball in the general direction of the plate. 99% of batters reach first on balls and once on base, you're guaranteed to reach home due to pitches thrown over the catcher's head or otherwise out of his reach.

So once again, I'm in a mood. Then, I'll be damned if a B-2 Spirit doesn't fly right over the ballfield. Don't know if it was connected with the Armed Forces Day show at Andrews AFB or the Preakness, but either way we got quite a show.

I'll call the day a draw.

I'm reminded of the time Old Scratch challenged St. Peter to a baseball game.

"Don't you realize who we have up here?", asked St. Peter, "Stan Musial, Lou Gehrig, Ted Williams..."

"Yeah", interrupted Satan, "But I have all of the umpires".

Oh, and before I retire to the ice slab, I may as well relate one conversation with the Bear this evening.

She checks the paper each day looking for someone who is giving away free hamsters. Apparently the gerbil needs friends.

Today, however, she suddenly decided that she needs another dog as well. Apparently Zephyr The Insane Labrador Retriever isn't enough. Well, I equivocated in just the manner that any other male in my position would: "You're definitely going to have to consult mommy on that one".

Her reply: "But mommy always says 'no'".

I have nothing to add.

I was going to post something substantial tonight, and I was thinking of doing so as a reply to some idiocies posted by the internet's official moron, Kurt Nimmo. But alas, I wax weary.

Baseball looms large in the morn and I will attend one game and call three more.

Assuming the day isn't rained out...

On the lighter side, try reading this without laughing out loud. I dare you...

Haunted, I am. Haunted by visuals.

I have a friend, with whom I am secretly deeply in love. She once told me that sometimes late at night in the summer heat she cools off by climbing in the Jeep, taking down both tops (her's and the Jeep's) and cruising the back roads. That's a visual that will haunt one.

In addition I'm haunted by visuals of women in floppy hats salsa dancing at baseball games, people grilling foods over inappropriate fuels and women with hootchies.

It's overwhelming, I tell you.

A great addendum to the whole Koran-flushing controversy, by way of ROFAsix.

Seems the knife only cuts in one direction.

Via A Collection of Thoughts, a good analysis of the whole Koran-flushing story. Basically, you can't flush a book down a toilet. As a father, I can vouch for that conclusion...