Around the Scuttlebutt

CIVIL WAR: THE SEQUEL? The Election Of 2012 (Part 6)

2012-01-28T18:34:00.000-05:00

INTERLUDE: 1865 to 1975 (continued)

After WWII, defense spending consumed a significant majority of the federal budget. In 1957, at the most intense part of the cold war, 70 per cent of the national budget went for national defense. By the time of the Kennedy administration, defense still accounted for 60 percent of the federal budget.

The Johnson administration lowered defense spending to about 42 per cent at its outset. Despite fighting a war in Vietnam, Johnson steadily cut the defense budget to 40 per cent when he left office. The defense budget, as a percentage of the federal budget continued to drop steadily to the point that today, before any of the Obama cuts are considered, defense spending is under 20 per cent of the federal budget.

“Social spending” and redistribution of wealth became the new paradigm, and to protect his social programs, Johnson’s national defense policy shifted. The war in Vietnam was “managed” by the aptly named Secretary of Defense, Robert Strange McNamara, rather than won. Fighting a reactive, rather than a proactive war, Johnson’s strategy was to send additional troops only after the North Vietnamese had reinforced their troops. “Let’s get by” replaced overwhelming force as a national principle.

Early in the Six Day War, Israel conducted a sneak attack on USS Liberty. Liberty was steaming independently in international waters when Israeli torpedo boats and aircraft attacked her, killing 34 and wounding 170 of her crew. Johnson refused to allow the Sixth Fleet to retaliate or to even put a defensive combat air patrol over the ship. She was left on her own for nearly 24 hours, open to the sea from a torpedo hit and holed by more than 800 rounds of 30mm or greater armaments, until she could rejoin the Sixth Fleet.

When the ship’s captain, then-Commander William McGonagle, USN, was nominated for the Medal of Honor, Johnson approved, so long as the Israeli government did not object. The Israeli’s demanded only that the award ceremony be non-public and low key. Captain McMonagle received the Medal of Honor from the Secretary of the Navy at the Washington Navy Yard, rather from the President at the White House.

Next, in January 1968, the North Korean government attacked and captured USS Pueblo, killing one member of the crew. Pueblo was steaming independently in international waters. The remainder of the crew was captured and held as prisoners of war for 11 months. Other than issuing a letter of apology, which was immediately withdrawn after the crew’s release, Johnson did nothing. No attempt was made to capture or destroy the vessel, and it remains in the hands of the North Koreans.

Appeasement and talk became the order of the day.

At the same time, a new word appeared in the American lexicon: “entitlement.”

Starting with Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal in the mid-30s, the strong central government that was the result of the Civil War began to take on responsibilities that had heretofore been personal or religious. When savings were destroyed by the banking collapse of 1929, which was caused, in turn, by middle class entre into the stock market and unscrupulous offers by brokers of low-margin trading, the government stepped in to establish a forced savings plan for retirement amongst workers. Workers paid a tax into the Social Security program and were guaranteed certain benefits at age 65.

In 1965, the nose of the camel of socialized medicine was pushed under the tent by the Johnson administration. The Medicare program was instituted and, with a companion program, Medicaid, government became a major health care insurer. While workers paid for their future Medicare benefits by a new tax, Medicaid was funded entirely by taxpayers. The recipients received the benefit at no cost to themselves.

Johnson’s approach to his domestic program was to increase social spending through taxation and borrowing., Following Democratic Party practice, it received a catchy name, “The Great Society.” Two new federal bureaucracies were created: the departments of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) and the Department of Transportation which federalized two functions that were previously supervised by the States. Nothing was to interfere with increased federalization of American life. The seeds planted in 1965 grew and bloomed—disastrously-- in the next 45 years.

CIVIL WAR: THE SEQUEL? The Election Of 2012 (Part 5)

2012-01-24T21:19:00.006-05:00

INTERLUDE: 1865 to 1975

At the end of the Civil War, the North was prosperous while the South was demolished. Lincoln’s assassination and the assumption of the presidency by the hapless Andrew Johnson foreclosed any hope of a peaceful restoration of the South into the Union.

The Radical Republicans took control of the Congress and, ignoring any attempt on the part of the President to carry out the promise of Lincoln’s second inaugural address, imposed a harsh peace on the South. To thwart any attempt by the President to implement a more lenient reconstruction, Congress sought to reduce the power of the Chief Executive. Johnson balked, and for the first time, an American President was impeached by the House of Representatives. Although the Senate failed to convict (by one vote), the power of the presidency was diminished until Theodore Roosevelt’s administration. It would be a hard thirty years for the former Confederacy.

As the American frontier closed in the 1890s, the United States began to look outward. When War with Spain broke out in 1898, the Nation was dragged, kicking and screaming into a new world of modern colonialism. Europe, mainly England and Spain, but also the Netherlands, Germany, Portugal, and France were established colonial powers. The Indian sub-continent and large parts of Africa were under the British umbrella. Parts of Africa, many of the Pacific islands, and many Caribbean islands were Spanish colonies. France, Germany, Belgium, and Portugal maintained colonies in Africa. The Netherlands, France and Britain had colonies in southeast Asia, and all of the European powers had divided China into spheres of military and economic influence.

After opening Japan to western commerce, America had again lapsed into isolationism, concerned only with Mexico and to a lesser extent, Cuba. She was late in coming to the party.

The Spanish-American War changed the United States, albeit slowly. At the conclusion of the short war, the United States acquired new lands, including Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines. At this point, manifest destiny was reborn as a belief in an American mission to promote and defend democracy throughout the world.

It was best described in Rudyard Kipling’s poem “The White Man’s Burden: The United States and The Philippine Islands.” Kipling urged the U.S. to take up the “burden” of empire, as had Britain and other European nations. Published in the February, 1899 issue of McClure’s Magazine, the poem coincided with the beginning of the Philippine Insurrection and U.S. Senate ratification of the treaty that placed Puerto Rico, Guam, Cuba, and the Philippines under American control. The “open door” policy in China followed, demanding for the United States the same rights as the colonial powers in their respective spheres of influence.

The Theodore Roosevelt administration backed, and probably engineered, an insurrection in the Colombian province of Panama and then promptly recognized the Republic of Panana. Soon, construction of an American canal across the Isthmus of Panama was underway.

When the United States finally entered WWI in 1917, Britain, France and Germany were already bled white from three years of fighting Napoleonic tactics against 20th Century weaponry. To his credit, Wilson resisted British and French demands that American troops be provided as replacements for their depleted ranks. Instead, Pershing was given full authority to deny such requests and to fight the American Expeditionary Force as a separate command.

At the end of the War, however, isolationist forces once again seized control and refused to ratify the League of Nations. Wilson suffered a stroke from which he never really recovered.

The Great Depression followed, and the election of 1932 installed Franklin Delano Roosevelt in the White House for the next 12 years. After the Japanese sneak attack on Pearl Harbor, and Hitler’s inexplicable declaration of war on the United States four days later, the Nation was hurtled into two wars for which it was woefully unprepared. On the other hand, the demand for war materiel finally ended the Great Depression.

Democratic Party rhetoric to the contrary, the “New Deal,” with its expansion of the federal bureaucracy and domestic social programs, did not end the Great Depression. While recovery began early in 1933, the American gross national product did not return to the 1929 level until the very late 1930s. The unemployment rate in 1940 was still 15%.

By 1936, there was some improvement in the economy. At that time, Roosevelt had signaled that the government would stimulate the economy by increasing the money supply or by reducing taxes, which also portended a rise in nominal interest rates. The positive expectations of such anticipated actions were dashed when Roosevelt abandoned that tack, and the economy once again went into recession, when those policies were rescinded. Additionally, increased federal control over banks in the Banking Act of 1935, which raised reserve requirements, and a corresponding reduction in the money supply, helped to thwart the recovery. In fact, the nation actually slipped into another recession in 1937.

With the end of WWII, the first (and still only) use of atomic weapons in combat, the establishment of the United Nations, and the commencement of 45 years of “cold war,” the United States finally took on, in full, the role of international leadership. American foreign policy sought to promote and defend democracy throughout the world, looking to the vision of Lincoln, Wilson, both Roosevelts, Kennedy, and Reagan. Despite setbacks in Korea and Vietnam, the latter caused largely by a lack of political will on the part of the liberal establishment and an overabundance of partisan warfare in Congress, this new form of manifest destiny continued to have an influence on American political ideology until the Obama presidency.

Domestically, the United States came out of WWII as the strongest economy on earth. Saved from the physical damage of war, its manufacturing base easily transformed back into a commercial footing. The GI Bill, adopted in 1944, allowed men who only five years earlier could never have aspired to higher education, to get college educations. Guaranteed home loans allowed them to immediately purchase homes and provided employment in the construction trades for hundreds of thousands of recently discharged veterans. Road building hit a new boom that was reminiscent of road, canal and railroad building in the early 19th Century. Roads allowed establishment of suburbs. Gone were the neighborhood market, drug store, and church to which one could easily walk. Instead, the family automobile became a necessity—and Detroit flourished.

National confidence rose as President Kennedy pledged to send a man to the Moon and return him safely to earth before the end of the seventh decade of the 20th Century. The landing on the Moon on 20 July 1969 accomplished that goal.

But there was a growing undercurrent that also changed the Nation. The social state created by FDR's administration expanded. The descendants of the slaves freed by the Civil War began to demand the rights granted them by the 13th through 15th amendments, and earned by many of them on the battlefields of WWI, WWII, and Korea. Nominally free citizens, black Americans were actively denied the rights of citizenship in the South---and passively denied those same rights in the North.

While Northern liberals--the direct descendants of the New England abolitionists of the 1850s--talked of civil rights for all Americans, they were slow to support those rights. During the riots of the mid-60s, my Aunt, a native Nebraskan and transplanted Georgian, explained it thusly to my Mother: "In the South, we dislike the negro race, but find that we like individual negroes. "In the North, you like the negro race, but don't want to have anything to do with individual negroes."

The retributive post-Civil War policies of the radical Republicans, ensured that relations between blacks and whites would fester for decades. The Radical Republican agenda, on a smaller scale, foreshadowed the retribution of the European Allies on Germany after WWI. Just as the rise of Hitler can be attributed to British and French policies after WWI, so the violence of the American civil rights movement can be placed on the victorious North every bit as much as on the defeated South.

The assassination of Lincoln led to the harsh peace of 1865 and the assassinations of John Kennedy, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy led to the violence of 1965-1968.

CIVIL WAR: THE SEQUEL? The Election Of 2012 (Part 4)

2012-01-19T21:37:00.000-05:00

JAMES BUCHANAN (continued)

Not only was there internal unrest over slavery, but the economy took a downturn. The Panic of 1857 began in summer of that year. The causes of the Panic were several.

With the reduction of tariffs, over-consumption of goods from Europe caused a huge drain on the nation’s hard currency. Construction of railroads was so popular as an investment that it soon led to losses of investments when none of the competing railroads could turn a profit. Finally, as the west was opened, rampant land speculation took off, leading to losses of investment. Easy credit led to the failure of most state banks. The country was still on a hard currency standard, and banks often lent between five and ten dollars for each dollar of hard currency in their reserves. When a loan failed, loans were called and creditors sought payment in hard currency. Bank runs and failures were the norm.

The agricultural economy of the South was less severely affected than the manufacturing North. By the end of the Buchanan presidency in March 1861, the federal deficit was at $17 million, a debt that had been accumulated in less than 30 years since the Jackson Administration had actually paid off the national debt.

With the collapse of the Whigs, the newly-established Republican Party became the opposition. As the northern and southern wings of the Democratic party split over slavery, territorial expansion, and tariffs, the Republicans won a plurality in the House of Representatives in the election of 1858.

The Republicans quickly used their control of the House to block most of Buchanan's agenda, including his proposals for expansion of influence in Central America, and for the purchase of Cuba, which were seen as fertile grounds for slavery. Buchanan, in turn, vetoed several substantial pieces of Republican legislation. Relations between the White House and the Congress moved from frosty to openly hostile. Finally, in 1860, the Democratic Party exploded. At its national convention in 1860, the southern wing walked out and nominated Buchanan’s Vice President, John C. Breckinridge, of Kentucky, whom Buchanan supported. The northern wing turned from Buchanan and nominated, Stephen Douglas of Illinois.

Another faction made up of former Whigs and pro-Union southern Democrats established the Constitutional Union Party, nominating former Speaker of the House John Bell of Tennessee. Running on a platform of “recognizing no political principle other than the Constitution...the Union...and the Enforcement of the Laws,” Bell took no position on slavery.

Thus, facing not one but two “third parties, when the Republicans nominated Abraham Lincoln, it was a near certainty that he would be elected.

Since 1857, Congress had ignored the requests of the Buchanan administration to strengthen the Army, allowing it to wither on the vine. While southern militias recruited and trained, the northerners chose to fund other more politically popular projects, and the Army was relegated to frontier duty and to civil engineering projects.

By early October, 1860. the Army's Commanding General, Winfield Scott, who had been commissioned a Brigadier General in 1812 and had captured Mexico City in the Mexican War, told Buchanan that Lincoln's election would likely cause at least seven states to secede. He recommended to Buchanan that large formations of federal troops and artillery be deployed to those states to protect federal property. The hollow Army, created by congressional dereliction, probably made this option nearly impossible.

Buchanan, however, distrusted Scott and ignored his recommendations, commencing a period of inaction that has made him a constant contender for the title of “worst President. After Lincoln's election, Buchanan did order Secretary of War Floyd to reinforce southern forts with such provisions, arms and men as were available; however, Floyd convinced him to revoke the order on the grounds that any such reinforcements and supplies would only fall into the hands of the South in the event of war.

Lincoln's victory enraged the South. State conventions were called across the deep South to consider the question of secession. The Country, north and south awaited news of how Buchanan would deal with the question in the four months between the election and Lincoln’s inauguration.

In his State of the Union message, Buchanan sent the most confusing of signals. He denied the legal right of states to secede. He also denied that the federal government could legally prevent secession. Offering no solutions to the crisis, he chose to blame the crisis solely on "intemperate interference of the Northern people with the question of slavery in the Southern States." He declared that if the North did not "repeal their unconstitutional and obnoxious enactments ... the injured [Southern]States, after having first used all peaceful and constitutional means to obtain redress, would be justified in revolutionary resistance to the Government of the Union."

[Historical Note: This last statement may sound ridiculous to 21st Century ears, but it should be remembered that many state constitutions then, and not a few still, recite that the States and the people reserve the right of armed insurrection in the event that a State or the federal government, becomes tyrannical. The only brake on such a right is that the people first use all peaceful and constitutional means to obtain redress. See, e.g., Bill of Rights to the Constitution of New Hampshire.]

Buchanan's only suggested solution to the crisis was "an explanatory amendment" reaffirming the constitutionality of slavery in the states, the fugitive slave laws, and popular sovereignty in the territories. Given that most of the Northern states would undoubtedly have refused to ratify such an amendment, this was probably just window dressing on Buchanan’s part.

The message was divisive rather than uniting. The North decried his refusal to condemn and take action to prevent secession. The South was outraged by the assertion that there was no right to secede.

South Carolina seceded on December 20, 1860, followed by six other slave states in the deep South. By February 1861, they had formed the Confederate States of America. As Scott had surmised, the secessionist governments seized all U.S. property within their states. Scores of Army officers from the Southern States resigned their commissions and returned home to don the uniform of their States or of the Army of the Confederate States. Buchanan and his administration took no action to stop either the confiscation of government property or the mass resignations from the Army.

His cabinet advised Buchanan to request Congressional authority to call up militias and to assume emergency military powers. He actually made such a request on January 8, 1861, but Congress summarily rejected his requests.

On December 26, 1860, Major Robert Anderson, U.S. Army, moved his garrison located in Charleston, South Carolina to Fort Sumter, located in Charleston harbor. Southerners responded with a demand that Buchanan remove Anderson and his “foreign troops” from the South Carolina, while Northerners demanded support for the commander. On January 5, Buchanan sent civilian steamer, Star of the West, to carry reinforcements and supplies to Fort Sumter. On January 9, 1861, South Carolina state batteries opened fire on the ship, which returned to New York without attempting to moor and offload at Sumter. No warships or armed merchantmen were used in Buchanan's attempts to ease the garrison's situation.

Buchanan was again criticized by both sides. In the North, his failure to take action against the South Carolina artillery batteries was viewed as incredible, bordering on national cowardice or even treason. In the South, the attempt of a “foreign” nation to maintain and reinforce Fort Sumter enraged the State then in the glow of its “independence.”

Inexplicably, Buchanan made no further moves either to prepare for war or to avert it. My college American History professor once quoted a letter written by Buchanan at this stage; the President said “Mr. Lincoln will soon be President. It is up to him to resolve this.”

The history of the ensuing 150 years has all flowed from the events of the few years before 1860 and the Civil war that followed. Many of the issues remain the same. Civil rights for the sons and daughters of former slaves. The power of the central government over the lives and fortunes of the people. The privileges of citizenship and the issue of who shall become a citizen and by what process. The effects of divided government and political polarization.

Are there comparisons? Let us see.

CIVIL WAR: THE SEQUEL? The Election Of 2012 (Part 3)

2012-01-16T17:39:00.000-05:00

JAMES BUCHANAN President Buchanan, a Pennsylvanian, served from March 4, 1857 to March 4, 1861. Another "doughface", he battled with Senator Stephen A. Douglas of Illinois for the control of the Democratic Party. As Buchanan assumed the presidency, the nation continued to boil.

At the outset of his presidency, in his inaugural address, he described the territorial expansion question as "happily, a matter of but little practical importance." He assumed that the Supreme Court was about to settle it "speedily and finally" in the near future and proclaimed that when the decision came he would "cheerfully submit, whatever this may be."

The Court spoke two days later, but, far from settling the question, it struck a spark near the fuse of an emotional and political powder magazine. The fuse burned throughout Buchanan’s term, exploding in its waning days. The Court's action may be the one thing for which the Buchanan presidency is best remembered: the decision in “the Dred Scott case.”

Dred Scott was a slave who, at the relevant 30 or so years, was owned by an Army doctor or his estate. As the doctor was transferred from post to post, he took his slave with him, from slave state to free state and back to slave state. The gist of Scott’s case was that, as soon as he was taken into a State whose laws prohibited slavery, he had become a free man. He sued in Missouri and won a verdict in his favor, inasmuch as Missouri precedent clearly established that the movement of a slave by his owner to a free state ended his involuntary servitude.

On appeal, however, the Missouri Supreme Court reversed the trial court, overturning the precedents, and holding that by failing to sue for his freedom when he was in a free state, he could not, upon his return to Missouri, seek to overturn Missouri law which permitted slavery. The decision was appealed to the United States Supreme Court.

Dred Scott v. Sandford, 60 U.S. 393 (1857), first held that federal courts lacked jurisdiction in the matter, inasmuch as Scott, and all people of African descent for that matter, were not citizens of the United States. Under normal Supreme Court procedure, this should have been the end of the decision. Without “standing,” Scott’s case could not even be before the Court.

Quick lapse to lawyerese. Standard Supreme Court practice is to look for any non-Constitutional basis for deciding a case. If such a basis exists, the Court usually makes that the foundation for its decision and goes no further on the grounds that, having resolved the case, there is no need to go further. This is because the Court has always recognized that in holding the act of two other of the three co-equal branches of the government to be unconstitutional, it is treading on thin ice.

Thus, jurisdiction is one of the first nonconstitutional questions any court must determine. Having decided that it had no jurisdiction over the matter, the Court could have stopped right there. The decision would undoubtedly been unpopular, but it would have been less emotional. Chief Justice Taney, however, realized that the opponents of slavery would just look for another “test case.” He was looking for the magic bullet which would finally and completely settle the issue of slavery in the United States. As a result, he wandered into the dangerous territory of obiter dictum, taking five other Justices with him. [Obiter dictum (“said in passing”), is a remark or observation included in the body of the Court's opinion, but which does not form a necessary part of the court's decision and has no precedential value.]

Continuing, Taney’s majority opinion, for only the second time in the history of the Court, held an Act of Congress to be unconstitutional, concluding that the Missouri Compromise, and perhaps the Northwest Ordinance, were void because Congress had no authority to prohibit slavery in federal territories, and that after States were admitted to the Union, they were free to make the decision as separate sovereigns. As if that were not enough, the Court also held that slaves were not citizens and that, inasmuch as slaves were property, they could not be taken from their owners without due process of law.

Every Justice wrote separately. Five also joined in the majority opinion and one concurred in the result. The seven were Taney, CJ and Wayne, Catron, Daniel, Campbell, Nelson and Grier, JJ. Taney was a Marylander, Wayne, a Georgian, Catron, a Tennesseean, Daniel, a Virginian, Campbell, an Alabaman, Nelson, a New Yorker, and Grier, a Pennsylvanian. The two dissenters were McLean, a New Jerseyian and Curtis, a Massachusettsman.

At least two were slave-owners (Taney and Catron) and it is likely that the other Southerners were as well (Wayne, Daniel, and Campbell). Two, McLean (1829) and Wayne (1835), were appointed, approved by the Senate, and seated on the Court in the space of three days from appointment to assumption of duty. One, Curtis, was a recess appointee, later confirmed, and three others, Nelson, Grier, and Campbell, were appointed only after two (Grier) or four (Nelson and Campbell) other candidates were blocked in the Senate by political opponents of the appointing presidents. Taney was appointed twice, first as an Associate Justice, which appointment was blocked in the Senate, and a year later as Chief Justice, at which time control of the Senate had changed and he was approved.

Later, at the behest of William Seward, Lincoln’s Secretary of State-designate, Campbell was an intercessor in February-March 1861 between negotiators from the North and the upper South who tried, one last time, to prevent civil war. When war broke out, he resigned from the Court, went back home, and was appointed Assistant Secretary of War of the Confederate States of America.

So anxious was Buchanan for a legal, rather than a political, resolution of the slavery issue that shortly after his election in November 1860—four months prior to his inauguration--he wrote to Associate Justice Catron asking whether the case would be decided by the U.S. Supreme Court before his inauguration. It was his fervent hope that the decision would put the future of slavery beyond the realm of political debate. He later successfully pressured his fellow Pennsylvanian, Associate Justice Grier, to join the Southern majority in the Dred Scott decision, to prevent the appearance that the decision was made along sectional lines.

Republicans fueled speculation as to Buchanan's influence on the decision by publicizing that, just prior to administering the oath of office to Buchanan, Chief Justice Roger Taney had whispered in Buchanan's ear, giving him advance notice of the Court’s decision. A few moments later, in his inaugural address, Buchanan expressed his “hope” that the slavery question would "be speedily and finally settled" by the Supreme Court.

In the meantime, “Bleeding Kansas” was still bleeding. It became a powerful political weapon for the Republican Party.

During the Pierce administration, competing territorial governments—-pro-slavery in Lecompton and anti-slavery in Topeka—-were organized and adopted competing constitutions. In order to achieve statehood, the territory needed to submit to Washington a single state constitution adopted by all Kansans.

When Buchanan took office, he appointed Robert Walker as the territorial Governor with the specific assignment of reducing the divisiveness and ensuring a fair and full vote by all the people in forming a constitution. Walker was a poor choice, and the result was a census and vote corrupted by partisans on both sides.

The vote resulted in the adoption of the pro-slavery Lecompton Constitution which was rejected by the anti-slavery forces. Wanting only to obtain the final admission of Kansas to the United States, Buchanan threw the support of his administration behind congressional approval of the pro-slavery Lecompton Constitution, infuriating the Douglas wing of his own party.

Senator Douglas, leader of the Democrats in the Senate, denounced Lecompton and the battle over Kansas escalated into a battle over the control of the Democratic Party. Buchanan made the political defeat Douglas and the admission of Kansas, a priority for the White House. He and his operatives offered political favors, patronage appointments and even cash in exchange for votes. The proposed Kansas (Lecompton) Constitution and the enabling act passed through the House, but it was blocked by Douglas in the Senate.

Congress then voted to call a new vote on the Lecompton Constitution, a move which now infuriated Southerners. Buchanan and Douglas then engaged in an all-out struggle for control of the Democratic Party in 1857–60, with Buchanan using his patronage powers and Douglas rallying the popular base. Douglas emerged victorious, and Buchanan was reduced to a narrow base of southern supporters. Kansas was finally admitted to the Union as a free state in January 1861, after Lincoln’s election but while Buchanan was still in office.

Rather than quelling unrest in the country over the slavery issue, the Dred Scott decision caused a firestorm in the Northern abolitionist circles and the continued tumult over Kansas fed the fire. Not only did the Court rule that slaves were property and could never be citizens, but, by negating the Missouri Compromise, it apparently opened to slavery the States that the abolitionists had presumed to be permanently free States.

Adding to the internal National tensions, John Brown, having left Kansas, poured gasoline on the fire. With the support of several prominent abolitionists and abolition societies, he acquired arms, ammunition and recruited a few followers The plan was for the small group to seize the United States Arsenal at Harper’s Ferry Virginia. With the captured weapons, he would arm slaves in the area and begin a slave insurrection—the single greatest fear of the ante-bellum South—and strike South to end slavery. (There is some modern thought that the intellectuals, academics, theologians, and other supporters of Brown’s efforts, probably unbeknownst to him, hoped more for a martyr than a success.)

The raid failed, the local slaves did not rise up and flock to Brown’s cause, and Brown was captured. Tried and convicted of treason, he was executed in December 1859. His failed effort convinced many in the deep South that the North would not cease and desist until slavery was abolished, by force of arms, if necessary.

CIVIL WAR: THE SEQUEL? The Election Of 2012 (Part 2)

2012-01-14T01:03:00.000-05:00

FRANKLIN PIERCE The Democrats displaced the Whigs in 1852, when their nominee, Franklin Pierce of New Hampshire, was elected. He took office on March 4, 1853. A Democrat, he was in the parlance of the times a "doughface," a Northerner with Southern sympathies. Not the overwhelming choice of his party, he was nominated as the party's candidate for president on the 49th ballot at the 1852 Democratic National Convention. Nonetheless, in the presidential election, the Franklin Pierce-William King ticket won by a landslide in the Electoral College.

As president, he was a poor leader, was apparently beholden to a fringe wing of his party, and was generally a divisive president. Many of his policies were widely criticized and earned him a reputation as one of the worst presidents in U.S. history. Certainly, he was mediocre. I once met a judge advocate who was a graduate of the Franklin Pierce Law Center (now the University of New Hampshire School of Law). He told me that in honor of President Filmore, the students referred to the school as “Frank’s Pretty Good Law School.”

Every action taken by the Pierce administration was viewed through the pre-eminent political lens of the day: slavery.

When the administration, in conformity with the Monroe Doctrine, attempted to get Great Britain to abandon its colonies in Central America, anti-slavery factions saw the attempt as a means of acquiring new slave states for the South. Additionally, the administration was embarrassed when the Secretary of State ordered several US diplomats in the Netherlands to prepare what became known as “the Ostend Manifesto.” That document, which was submitted to the President, proposed that the United States purchase Cuba from Spain for $120 million . If Spain refused, the administration would wage a pretextual war to “wrest” the island from Spain. Abolitionists immediately saw a plot to add Cuba to the Union as a slave State. When the United States negotiated a treaty with Mexico to purchase a nearly 30,000-square-mile tract (which now makes up southern Arizona and southwestern New Mexico), Northerners insisted on seeing it as a ruse to add to slave territory.

The land, known as the Gadsden Purchase after the US ambassador to Mexico who negotiated the treaty, was deemed necessary by civil engineers and the War Department to enable the construction of a transcontinental railroad. It provided flatter, less mountainous routes around the southern Rockies to California. Also including terms that reconciled outstanding border issues following the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which ended the Mexican War, it should have been a victory for the Democrats and manifest destiny. Instead, because the Secretary of War, Jefferson Davis of Mississippi, and other Southerners favored the purchase, it was condemned as a pro-slavery land grab.

I have always suspected that the Northern, especially the New England, opposition to the purchase was less an issue of morality and more one of self-interest. Northern manufacturing interests had long insisted on high protective tariffs to secure their internal markets, at the expense of Southern exporters, whose cotton was exposed to retaliatory tariffs. Part of the goal of the purchase was to construct a trans-continental railroad, via a southern, less mountainous route. As railroads grew, some business-oriented Southerners saw an opportunity to get their crops and products to the western coast. This was the age of the clipper ship and vast trade by New England, via Cape Horn, with rapidly growing California. While a southern railroad might be good for the Country, New England’s interests reigned supreme. Sacrifice for the Nation was demanded only of the South.

Pierce antagonized the North and pleased the South by diligently enforcing the Fugitive Slave Act which was a component of the Compromise of 1850. One case, in particular, involved the return of an escaped slave who was apprehended in Massachusetts.

But Pierce’s support of the Kansas-Nebraska Act that presented a major political test. The thirty year old Missouri Compromise, which based free state-slave state decisions on a nominally objective bright geographic line, was declared unconstitutional by the U.S. Supreme Court. As a result, the Democrats pushed through the Kansas-Nebraska Act which substituted the doctrine of “popular sovereignty” for geography. The territories of Kansas and Nebraska would determine whether they were to be free or slave states by plebescite.

Seizing the opportunity, both sides of the issue eagerly renewed the reopened debate over expanding slavery in the American West. This, in turn, led to a mini-civil war in Kansas as pro- and anti-slavery forces came into the territory hoping to sway the referendum. Bleeding Kansas, the Pottawatomie Massacre, and the John Brown’s raid on Harpers Ferry, Virginia were all products of this political compromise, the last on the issue of slavery in the Nation.

The susceptibility of “popular sovereignty” to outside influence was positively 21st Century in its application. Fraud and deceit were viewed as a moral imperative.

The first organized immigration to Kansas Territory was by citizens of slave states, most notably neighboring Missouri, who came to the territory to secure the expansion of slavery. Pro-slavery settlements were established by these immigrants at Leavenworth and Atchison, both located on the west bank of the Missouri River. At the same time, several anti-slavery organizations in the North, most notably the New England Emigrant Aid Company, organized and funded several thousand settlers to move to Kansas and vote to make it a free state. Free-State settlements were established deeper into the territory, in Topeka, Manhattan, and Lawrence. The election to Congress of a single territorial delegate was rife with fraud. Significantly less than half the ballots were cast by registered voters, and at one location, only 20 of over 600 voters were legal residents. While Kansas had approximately 1,500 registered voters at the time, not all of whom actually voted, over 6,000 votes were cast. A similar vote elected a pro-slavery territorial legislature. It would have made a Chicago politician blush.

The Pierce administration recognized that slave-state body as the lawful territorial government. The Free Staters, called a separate convention and adopted the “Topeka Constitution,” establishing a shadow anti-slavery government. Pierce continued to recognize the pro-slavery legislature even after a congressional investigative committee found its election illegitimate. He declared the Free Staters to be in rebellion and ordered federal troops to break up a meeting of the shadow government in Topeka.

The national angst and polarization was moving from intellectual and philosophical to confrontational and violent. Abolitionist preacher Henry Ward Beecher collected funds to arm like-minded settlers with Sharps rifles, which were shipped west in boxes labeled "Bibles" and "Religious Materials." These state of the art weapons came to be sarcastically referred to as "Beecher's Bibles." By the summer of 1855, approximately 1,200 New Englanders had made the journey to the new territory, armed and ready to fight. In October, John Brown came to Kansas Territory to fight slavery. Then, on May 21, 1856, a group of slave staters entered the Free-State stronghold of Lawrence, where they burned the Free State Hotel, destroyed two newspaper offices and their printing presses, and ransacked homes and stores.

A few days later, John Brown led a group of Free Staters on an attack on the proslavery settlement at Pottawatomie Creek. During the night of May 24, the group, which included four of Brown's sons, led five pro-slavery men from their homes and hacked them to death with broadswords.

By August, thousands of proslavery men formed into armies and marched into Kansas. That same month, Brown and several of his followers engaged 400 proslavery soldiers in the "Battle of Osawatomie." The hostilities raged for another two months until Brown departed the Kansas Territory. In all, approximately 56 people died in Bleeding Kansas by the time the violence completely abated in 1859. Following the commencement of the Civil War, additional guerrilla violence erupted on the border between Kansas and Missouri.

[Historical Note: Your author’s great, great grandfather, Quartermaster Sergeant Pleasant Fountain (or Fontaine), Regimental Quartermaster Sergeant, 6th Kansas Volunteer Cavalry, was killed in action in a skirmish with Confederate forces near Fidelity, Missouri. on April 7, 1863.]

Nor was the violence limited to the frontier. On the afternoon of May 22, 1856, Congressman Preston Smith Brooks (D. S.C.) physically attacked Senator Charles Sumner (D. Mass.) on the floor of the Senate chambers. Congressman Brooks was the nephew of Senator Andrew Butler (D. S.C.), whom Sumner had berated and ridiculed in a speech on the floor a few days earlier. Brooks repeatedly struck Sumner in the head with a heavy, gold-knobbed cane. Even after Sumner collapsed, Brooks continued to beat Sumner until the cane broke. Several other senators attempted to help Sumner, but were blocked by Rep. Laurence Keitt (D. S.C. , who held them back at gun point, shouting "Let them be!"

Sumner did not return to his Senate desk for three years as a result of his injuries. He later became a major player amongst the Radical Republicans in the Senate during the Civil War.

The Kansas-Nebraska Act and the events in “Bloody Kansas” outraged Northerners and provided the impetus for the formation of the Republican Party. That the country was stretched to the breaking point is evident in the aftermath of the Brooks-Sumner matter. Sumner was viewed as a martyr to the anti-slavery movement. Brooks was viewed as a hero and defender of Southern honor.

In the end, the continued deterioration of the national mood can be blamed in large part on Pierce. He surrounded himself with a cabinet and other advisors who were lockstep supporters. Thus, he was isolated from the growing national division and was unwilling to steer a steady, prudent course that might have sustained a broad measure of support. Having publicly committed himself to an ill-considered position, he maintained it steadfastly, but at disastrous cost to his reputation and, ultimately, the nation.

CIVIL WAR: THE SEQUEL? The Election Of 2012 (Part 1)

2012-01-13T07:07:00.003-05:00

INTRODUCTION

As we look at an increasingly divided and partisan electorate in the run up to the election of 2012, I am concerned that this election is simply the continuation of the turmoil that divided the nation in the 12 years prior to the election of Abraham Lincoln. The basic questions are the same: the power of the federal government and the proper interpretation of the Constitution; the effect of the attempts of partisan groups and special interests to impose their particular solutions on the entire nation; taxation; and the proper role of the federal government in areas traditionally reserved to the States. The “usual suspects” are also present, individual and groups on the outer fringes of the political parties who have displaced the center. Does the comparison withstand closer scrutiny? Read on.

AMERICA IN LATE ANTE-BELLUM PERIOD

Between 1848 and 1860, the United States experienced a major failure of its political system. The result was the election of Abraham Lincoln, the secession of, ultimately, 11 of the 34 States (another two had both “confederate and Union “governments”), and a bloody civil war. That 12 year period included the final “compromises” on the question of the expansion of slavery, the replacement of the existing political parties by “movements” as the real movers and shakers of the Nation, and exceptionally poor presidents.

ZACHARY TAYLOR President Taylor served from March 4, 1848 to July 9, 1850, the second shortest presidency in our history. He was a Whig. The Whigs were guided by the principle of a strong legislature and a weak executive, favoring the supremacy of Congress over the presidency and a program of modernization and economic protectionism. The party self-destructed when it split internally on the issue of the expansion of slavery. Its tariff policies also led to its disappearance in the South. After the election of 1852, the northern voter base mostly joined the new Republican Party.

Although nominally a Whig, Taylor refused to be a puppet of Whig leaders in Congress.

In the period 1820-1840, American protestantism underwent a "Second Great Awakening," which was marked by huge growths in Christian denominations and a view that God had created a pristine and fertile North American continent in which a new people, freed from ties to European traditionalism, could ignite and establish a new evangelism of the Christian faith. Old established American religious orders prospered and new ones were established and grew on the frontier. Manifest Destiny, while never an official policy of any administration, was an accompanying national grass roots belief that the United States was destined to expand across the continent. In quasi-religious terms, its proponents argued that national expansion was not only wise but that it was manifest (readily apparent) and pre-destined (inexorable).

As the population of the Nation grew, the Jacksonian Democrat-Republican Party, in particular, adopted the concept to justify the war with Mexico and the annexation of Texas. The Whigs, on the other hand, opposed expansion qua expansion, favoring instead deepening the economy rather than broadening its expanse. Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, and Abraham Lincoln, all Whigs, opposed national geographic expansion, as did John C. Calhoun, a notable Democrat who generally opposed his party on the issue.

It is interesting to note That Clay, Calhoun, and Webster were the same "War Hawks" of the early 19th Century who promoted the War of 1812 as an opportunity for territorial expansion through the capture of Canada.

At any rate, the idea of manifest destiny had all but died out by 1860. (It would rear its head again, in new clothes, in the mid-20th Century.) A skeptic might argue that the concept died just as its aims were achieved.

The dominant issue of American politics in the 1840s was whether slavery would be permitted in the western territories of the United States.

As early as 1787, the issue of the expansion of slavery had been the subject of legislative action. The Northwest Ordinance, adopted by the Continental Congress under the Articles of Confederation, prohibited slavery in the lands north of the Ohio and east of the Mississippi. With the advent of the new Constitution, the Northwest Ordinance was ratified by implication by the new national government. It was, however, a question that would not go away.

As the country grew geographically, especially as a result of the Louisiana Purchase, southern States looked to an expansion of slavery into new States and territories created out of that huge parcel.

The The Missouri Compromise of 1820 was a limited act, designed to control the spread of slavery, taken before the United States had begun to expand west of the Missouri River. Feelings ran high on both sides of the issue. A slave-owner himself, Taylor nonetheless was a moderate on the territorial expansion of slavery, angering fellow Southerners. Although the Whigs were the anti-Jackson party, Taylor’s main concern was to preserve the authority of the presidency, akin to Jackson’s opposition to the Nullification Acts of the 1830s.

A four-year confrontation between the slave states of the South and the free states of the North regarding the status of territories acquired during the Mexican War, came to a head in Taylor’s presidency. The parties were divided. Compromise became possible with President Taylor’s sudden death when Henry Clay proposed an omnibus compromise, one which Taylor had opposed.

MILLARD FILMORE President Filmore, Taylor’s vice president, served from July 9, 1850 to March 4, 1853. The change in leadership also signaled an abrupt political shift. Fillmore had very different views on the slavery issue. Before Taylor's death, Fillmore told him that, as President of the Senate, he would give his tie-breaking vote to Henry Clay’s proposal. His first act as president was to fire Taylor's cabinet and to fill it with men of like-mind to himself.

Clay’s omnibus compromise died in Congress, but another, the Compromise of 1850, passed in September 1850. While it postponed the Civil war by a decade, the Compromise of 1850 also inflamed passions on both sides of the issue and drove the separate factions further apart.

The northern wing of the Whig Party opposed the compromise. They favored a failed part of the legislation, the Wilmot Proviso, which would have outlawed slavery in any new territories or states, confining it to the existing slave states only. This was anathema to the South, which recognized that national expansion and the admission of new free States would dilute the power of the South in Congress, ultimately reducing it to a nullity and leaving its "peculiar institution" defenseless from legislative and executive attack.

In fact, the compromise that finally came before both Houses of Congress was a faint image of the original proposal, and Fillmore actually urged Congress to pass the original bill. In response, as historian Gerald Bahles notes, "forces for and against slavery fought over every word of the bill." It was only at this critical juncture, that Fillmore announced his support of what we know as the Compromise of 1850.

Enacted in five separate bills, the Compromise of 1850 gave each side just enough to calm passions for a few more years. California's application for admission as a free state with its was approved; a Southern proposal to split California at parallel 35° north to provide a Southern territory was not defeated. Popular sovereignty became the new norm for the newly created New Mexico and Utah Territories: the decision to accept or reject slavery would be subject to referendum in those (and by implication) other newly created territories, at least those south of the Missouri Compromise line. A stronger Fugitive Slave Act was adopted and the slavery remained lawful in the national capital, although the slave trade was banned there except in the portion of the District of Columbia south of the Potomac that had reverted Virginia.

Each measure obtained a majority, and, by September 20, President Fillmore had signed them into law. Whigs on both sides refused to accept the finality of Fillmore's law (which led to more party division, and a loss of numerous elections).

Fillmore's greatest difficulty with the fugitive slave law, hated in the North, was enforcing it without showing favor to Southern Whigs. His solution was to appease both northern and southern wings of his party. He called for enforcing the fugitive slave law in the North, and enforcing in the South a law forbidding involvement in Cuba (for the sole purpose of adding it as a slave state).

The developing trend of seeking compromise on principle’s went largely unnoticed among the political class in Washington, but the people in the various regions of the Nation were beginning to catch on.

GAMBLING ON UNILATERAL DISARMAMENT (AGAIN)

2012-01-06T15:28:00.001-05:00

The headline on Drudge Reports said it all: “Drones Not Marines.” The report that the President has decided that the best thing for the Country in a dangerous world is to downsize our armed forces, adopt a strategy of using technology rather than preparedness, and readying ourselves to a “one-war “ structure raises images of the United States between 1920 and 1940. Any serious student of history ought be downright frightened by that image.

In the policy announced on Thursday, the current two-war strategy would be abandoned. Since at least the Korean War, the United States has sought to maintain a force that can fight and win two major wars at once. The Obama plan would change that to an ability to fight and win one war and, hopefully, still deter a second aggressor.

After our successful participation in WWI (which ended a bloody stalemate), the isolationists pulled us back to within our borders and unilaterally disarmed. Refusing to acknowledge that we were now a world power, they cut the Army and Navy, refused to participate in the League of Nations, and thought nice thoughts about the rest of the world. Britain and France followed suit, while ravaging Germany for reparations and setting the stage for Hitler to lead a new Germany to strength and internal horror.

Now the President assumes that there will be no more “real” wars, so we don’t need some dirty-faced Marine to win the day. We can be a world power using a few drones flown from the safety of Missouri to do the job. Mark my words, soon, the drones will be flown by contractors who have made donations to the party coffers and whose employees are all dues-paying members of SEIU.

In the period between the World Wars, we relied on two large oceans and our Navy to keep the world at bay. Roosevelt sent the Pacific Fleet forward to Hawaii to send a signal to Japan that we would not brook further aggression towards China and the far East.

In 1940, Roosevelt sent the Pacific Fleet from San Diego to Pearl Harbor, to let the Japanese see them 2500 miles closer to Tokyo and thus be deterred. Admiral James O. Robinson, Commander in Chief, US Fleet at the time of the deployment of the Pacific Fleet from San Diego to Pearl Harbor, wanted to keep the fleet in San Diego or at Lahaina Roads. Political pressure brought to bear on Washington by businesses in Honolulu forced the fleet to stay in Pearl Harbor so that large liberty parties could enjoy the pleasures of that city. Robinson was fired by FDR, the fleet stayed at Pearl, and we know how that worked out.

The military leadership in China, Iran, and Korea must be delighted to hear that. If China can sucker Korea or Iran into starting one war, the force the President proposes will not deter China!

Secretary Panetta down-played the differences, asserting that we can ignore the large conflicts of the past and focus, instead, on the conflicts the United States the Administration thinks are likely to occur in the 21st century.

As one who has been to Corregidor and seen the massive fixed gun positions placed to stop an enemy fleet from sailing into Manila Bay, as Dewey had in 1898, I agree that a policy of preparing to fight the last war is subject to valid criticism. As one who has personally seen the massive tidal range at Inchon, Korea, where the First Marine Division turned the tide of the Korean War in its amphibious landing in September 1950, I know that being prepared to continue to do things that worked in the past is also necessary. In 1949, Louis Johnson, President Truman’s Secretary of Defense, argued that the Marine Corps and amphibious warfare were obsolete when a single Air Force bomber could end a war with one A-bomb. A year later, he had to eat those words.

Secretary Panetta said, "Make no mistake - we will have the capability to confront and defeat more than one adversary at a time." Nice words, but the plan says just the opposite. The President plans to cut ground forces,that is, the dog-face with a machine-gun, the Leatherneck with his rifle, the people who actually fight and win wars, by 10 to 15 %, i.e., by 75,000 to 110,000 people. The policy assumes that from here on out, troop- and time-intensive operations are unlikely to occur. Thus, the force no longer needs to be sized, supplied or trained for large-scale, long-term missions.

Rather, the Administration assumes, cyberwarfare and unmanned drones, the single Air Force bomber of today, will win the day. And the Democrats thought SDI was crazy?

At least the President recognizes that countering attempts by China and Iran to block U.S. power projection capabilities in areas like the South China Sea and the Strait of Hormuz must still be part of our national strategy. How he will do that with drones is a mystery. It sounds more Rooseveltian to me.

So we will not actually be in the Straits of Hormuz or the South China Sea; we’ll be watching from afar via drones. But surely, the Chinese or the Iranians will get the idea, right?

Fortunately, the hollow, toothless force that we had available in 1940 was able to hold on, by the skin of its teeth, in a large two-front war until we could mobilize a 12 million man Army three years later (today, that would equal a 36 million man force). We will run out of drones and the few carriers we still have long before China runs out of its multi-million man army. Having a force with no teeth didn’t work in 1941 and will be similarly unsuccessful in the future The world and technology of the 21st Century simply will not give us that time, so we either have an adequate force ready to go or we lose.

I pray that the President and his advisors are right about this risky tack they are taking. I believe they are not and that bodes ill for the United States.

A REPLY TO PROFESSOR BEAU WESTON

2012-01-05T16:44:00.002-05:00

One of the blogs I follow regularly is Gruntled Center. The author is William J. “Beau” Weston, PhD, a professor at Centre College in Danville, Kentucky . Dr. Weston is the Chair of Centre’s Anthropology and Sociology Program and is the College’s Van Winkle Professor of Sociology. A self-described “Democratic Party foot-soldier, and general busybody,” his blog is an interesting, thoughtful, well-written body of informal work, albeit, understandably, heavy on sociology. I commend it to thoughtful readers of any political persuasion. I write this introduction to assure Professor Weston of my respect for his writing and his approach to blogging and of my continued patronage of his blog.

That is why it pains me to say that his blog entry dated January 4, 2012—his most recent at the time I write this—ignores history and represents the worst of the writing associated with sociology and the other “fuzzy” sciences. I write this as one whose undergraduate comprehensive major was social science education, which included required a minimum of 45 hours of history, sociology, political science, and economics courses.

The blog entry, entitled “Obama Is Doing Something Wrong in Fighting Terrorists ,” caught my attention because on that point, the Professor and I agree. After reading the entire piece, however,I must say that that is the only thing on which we agree, at least on this topic.

His complaints are purely those of the left wing of his party, a group which apparently believes that the political world is rational and susceptible to reasoned argument. He writes

On his first day in office, President Obama promised to close the Guantanamo prison within a year. He did not.

Last year he ordered the killing of a U.S. citizen, Anwar Awlaki, by a drone attack in Yemen.

Last week he signed the defense bill which allows the indefinite detention without trial of suspected terrorists.

Each of these acts is wrong in itself and dangerous as a precedent.

To which I respond, “Whoa, there, Cowboy.”

The view from the ivory tower of the academy is, in my experience, often suspect, but in this instance, the three examples cited are just plain wrong. Those of us who spent large parts of our adult lives and professional careers facing down the enemies of our Republic have an entirely different view of life.

To his credit, he also writes

I normally support President Obama, so I have tried hard to understand why he did these things, and what principle or theory might lie behind them. I have not come up with a good account. National security, especially when dealing with terrorists, necessarily includes facts that can't be revealed to the public. Perhaps there are good reasons for these acts that are now hidden.

Here are my best guesses.

Let’s look at his complaints and his “guesses.” Guess No. 1 says

Some of the Guantanamo prisoners were so badly tortured under the previous administration that they cannot effectively be put on trial or released. Since their testimony was acquired by torture, it is worthless. The Obama administration ended the torture, but cannot undue what was done before.

As pleasing as it may be to the left-wing base of the Democratic Party to blame everything wrong with the world on former President Bush, they ignore the fact that we are dealing with fanatics who have no respect for Western history and culture. They are people who would, if given half a chance, eliminate the left as the first order of business. After all, the left espouses the very things that the fanatics hate the most—freedom of thought and expression, personal liberty, and freedom to worship, or not worship, as one pleases.

I also doubt that any of the Gitmo prisoners was “tortured” so badly that they cannot be exposed to examination. I do not often disagree with Senator John McCain, who really was tortured by the North Vietnamese and their imported Cuban torturer, but waterboarding is not torture. It is extremely unpleasant, terrifying even, but after it is over, the subject does not need to reduce dislocated joints or set broken bones.

No, these are just bad guys who need to be isolated from the world. Sam Yorty was once asked if he thought the death penalty deterred murder.

“No,” he replied. “You don’t kill a rabid dog to deter other dogs from getting rabies. You kill him so he doesn’t bite anybody.”

In the case of Gitmo, we have locked up a bunch of people whose dearest goal in life is to kill as many Americans as possible. The President—in fact, our constitutional system—acknowledges that the first order of business of any government is to “provide for the common defense” of its people. I remember seeing President-elect Obama coming out of his first full-fledged national security briefing a day or so after the election. He had a deer in the headlights sort of look. I “guess” he was thinking, “Damn! They weren’t kidding. It is a dangerous out there. Maybe Gitmo is not so bad after all.”

Then there is Guess No. 2:

A very small number of American citizens, such as Awlaki, have indeed become enemy combatants. Awlaki himself openly proclaimed this. Since he was in hiding in enemy territory, it was not practical to capture and try him as a citizen has a right to receive. The drone attack was the only practical way to fight that enemy, as we have with many other non-citizen enemy individuals.

On this we agree, but I do not see this as anything to apologize for. Awlaki was a leader of a confederation of sorts who openly declared war on his own country. Abraham Lincoln led our country in our bloodiest war against people who he always claimed to be citizens of the United States. We specifically targeted Admiral Yamamoto in WWII, because if he was dead, the Japanese cause suffered. The same goes for Awlaki and anyone else who takes up arms against the United States.

As the Professor acknowledges by implication, all Awlaki had to do to avail himself of his rights of citizenship was to submit himself to its judicial process. He did not. To quote the old Crusader in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, “He chose poorly.”

Then there is Guess No. 3:

When signing the National Defense Authorization Act, the president issued a statement that he objected to the provisions of the act that allowed for indefinite military detention and would not allow them on his watch. His opponents put this poison pill in the law precisely to embarrass the president. Since he had to sign the law in order to pay the troops, he accepted this compromise, while still rejecting this provision of the law.

This guess places me in a quandary. I like signing statements. They have lengthy historical precedent dating back to the earliest days of the Republic. See, Presidential Signing Statements: Constitutional and Institutional Implications, at 1. (Congressional Research Service, September 17, 2007) [“Presidential signing statements are official pronouncements issued by the President contemporaneously to the signing of a bill into law that, in addition to commenting on the law generally, have been used to forward the President’s interpretation of the statutory language; to assert constitutional objections to the provisions contained therein; and, concordantly, to announce that the provisions of the law will be administered in a manner that comports with the Administration’s conception of the President’s constitutional prerogatives. While the history of presidential issuance of signing statements dates to the early 19th century, the practice has become the source of significant controversy in the modern era as Presidents have increasingly employed the statements to assert constitutional and legal objections to congressional enactments.” Id.]

By far, the most prolific user of such statements since 1980 has been President Clinton who issued 381 statements, two and one-half times as many as President George W. Bush. During his presidential campaign, candidate Obama rejected the use of signing statements. He was asked at one rally: "when congress offers you a bill, do you promise not to use presidential signing statements to get your way?" Obama gave a one-word reply: "Yes." He added that "we aren't going to use signing statements as a way to do an end run around Congress." A month and a half after taking office, President Obama issued his first signing statement.

As a proponent of checks and balances, I take the position that Marbury v. Madison, 5 U.S. (1 Cranch) 137 (1803) has been misinterpreted since it was decided. In Marbury, the Court held that it has the power to declare a law enacted by Congress and signed by the President to be, nonetheless, unconstitutional. Such a right is nowhere mentioned in the Constitution, but neither has the decision been seriously doubted, at least in the past 150 years.

What has been ignored is that the three branches of the national government are co-equal. Even the Court acknowledges that by means of the presumption of constitutionality of every federal law that comes before it.

I tend to side with President Jackson, in his view that the President has an equal right to disagree with the Congress and the Supreme Court and to ignore their decisions on constitutional grounds, albeit at the peril of impeachment. In Worcester v. Georgia, 31 U.S. (6 Pet.) 515 (1832 (1832), the Court ruled that Georgia, which was in the process of evicting the Cherokee Nation from lands within Georgia’s borders, could not impose laws in Cherokee territory, since only the national government — not state governments — had authority in Indian affairs. President Jackson had no desire to get mixed up in that issue and, famously, said “John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it! ... Build a fire under them. When it gets hot enough, they'll go.”

My real objection to Guess No. 3 is Professor Weston’s assumption that “[h]is opponents put this poison pill [the indefinite military detention provision] in the law precisely to embarrass the president.”

I suggest that it was Congress exercising its Constitutional authority to make laws. (Putting the President in a tough political position was just a side benefit.)

The President’s Attorney General has made no attempt to hide his desire for a high profile trial for terrorist leaders—one that, as a former prosecutor, I know lurks in the heart of every district attorney. This is understandable from a bureaucratic turf war perspective. It is inexcusable from the perspective of national defense. In this case, Congress exercised its right to curtail over-reaching by the executive branch and the President has exercised his right to disagree. Now we must wait to see what, if anything he will do to follow up on his signing statement.

In summing up, Dr. Weston makes the usual mistake that idealists make in stating their view of the world. He assumes, as do college kids arrested for drug offenses in a harsh Orient, that the Constitution is applied and approved of world-wide. He says

. . . I believe that President Obama has not done enough to fight these enemy individuals and organizations in a way that is in accord with American constitutional principles. This is my biggest disappointment with the Obama administration.

Our enemies will use any weapon that they can in their single-minded hatred for America. If they can use our own Constitution against us, all the better. The very rights that they and their supporters—both active and benign—claim for themselves, they deny to us and their other enemies.

As I said earlier, it is nice up there in the ivory tower. It’s a lot messier in the real world, and Beau Weston is an intelligent observer. He ought to know better.

OF SISTERS, PICK UP TRUCKS AND DUFFY DAUGHERTY

2012-01-04T09:21:00.003-05:00

Apparently, one of the delays in counting the last four percent of the caucus votes in Iowa was caused by a man who was driving his precinct’s count to the election center. The folks at Fox had a couple of laughs about it, but the mental picture stuck. The first question my wife asked me this morning was, “Did the guy in the truck get there?”

It was an interesting night. There were indeed clichés spouted, and the focus immediately shifted to New Hampshire.

This morning, however, the Romney camp must be channeling the ghost of Hugh D. Daugherty. Duffy Daugherty was the first observer to note that “A tie is like kissing your sister.” Rick Santorum, who was polling miserably until the last week or so, came within eight votes of taking the lead. That is not the image that a candidate who consistently polled at 25 percent and won 25 percent should want to take into the next round.

The Iowa caucus goes into the record books and now it is on to the Granite State where Romney has nothing to gain and a lot to lose. If “Sis” gets another peck on the cheek, Romney could be in trouble.

What is absent from this process so far is any noticeable desire on the part of the people to ask for real debate. With the exception of Paul, whose ideas range from interesting to absolutely wacky, few of the candidates of either party are talking about any solution to the Nation's woes other than "elect or re-elect me."

I am particularly concerned that the Newt Gingrich we saw in Iowa was not Newt Gingrich, author and professor. He has good ideas, but the process we have developed does not want ideas. Ideas are dangerous because they don't fit into the few minutes allocated between commercial breaks. Cat fights and mud slinging make for easy headlines and ratings.

The American people have been turned into a race that despises real intellectual discourse and needs any discussion to come in 15 minute blocks. Read the Lincoln-Douglas debates. Today, Abe and Steve would have been back home in Illinois in a flash. And that is frightening.

It is time for candidates to get the courage to talk honestly with the American people rather than play it safe. As Duffy Daugherty also said, “When you are playing for the national championship, it's not a matter of life or death. It's more important than that.”

A NOTE FOR, AND WINK AND A HAT TIP TO, MY FRIEND JODY HARRINGTON: I tend to agree with your prayer "For those oppressed by sports analogies," although I allowed literary license to prevail in the last couple of blogs. I'll try to find a new angle. "It's more important than that."

IOWA: IT'S OPENING DAY

2012-01-03T16:19:00.000-05:00

It is January in a year divisible by four, and you know what that means, sports fans. “The Olympics,” you say? I say “nay. nay.”

Today marks the formal beginning of the 2012 presidential campaign, the greatest show on earth. Now some out there, especially those fans in Iowa and New Hampshire, may suggest that the season really started last summer, or even earlier. As one who believes that the first day of Spring comes in mid-February—when pitchers and catchers report—I sympathize, but, to be brutally honest, the past eight months have just been the Florida Instructional League for the boys and girl.

Now, I may have shocked some of the ~~fundamentalists~~ baseball purists. How dare I compare a mere political campaign to baseball, they wonder? Well, consider this.

I am reminded of the scene in Bull Durham when Crash Davis works with Nuke LaLoosh on his clichés. “You're gonna have to learn your clichés. You're gonna have to study them, you're gonna have to know them. They're your friends. Write this down: ‘We gotta play it one day at a time.’"

Nuke replies, “Got to play...... it's pretty boring.

Crash nods. “'Course it's boring, that's the point. Write it down.”

Thus, Nuke learns to respond with his ~~stump speech~~ clichés. “We have to play them one day at a time.” “I'm just happy to be here and I hope I can help the ball club.” “I just want to give it my best shot and the good lord willing everything will work out.”

Likewise, if you listen closely tonight and in the days to come, you will hear many of the following:

“The final score is the only statistic that matters.” [“Iowa is just one state. Wait ‘til the convention.”]

“We shocked the world today.” Santorum, Bachman, or Huntsman wins Iowa.

“They're in a must win situation.” [“(Insert candidate’s name) is going to have to pull out a win in (insert State) or he’s done for.”]

“Turnovers killed us.” Think Bachman on Concord, NH, or Cain on women, or Perry on “three agencies.”

“They made the big plays and we didn't.” [In every concession speech.]

“There is no tomorrow.” We’ll start hearing this one tonight for every candidate who decides to hang on for New Hampshire.

“This is a hard loss to swallow. I'm looking forward to the challenge. We need to turn it up a notch. We have to stay focused.” Listen for this one every time a front-runner comes in second (or worse.)

“We're just glad to get out of here with a win.” Any winning candidate who does less well than expected.

“We just have to put this loss behind us.” Ditto.

There is one you probably will not hear: "It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings." Politically incorrect--it discriminates against dancers and other non-vocally musical artists.

That being said, ready or not, sports fans, here it comes—the campaign of 2012. I have often thought that if we could charge admission for the next year, we could pay off the national debt.

To quote that eminent American philosopher, Charles Dillon Stengel, “You look up and down the bench and you have to say to yourself, 'Can't anybody here play this game?'”

Or, as his disciple, Lawrence Peter Berra, once observed: “It’s déjà vu, all over again.”

‘SCUSE ME, JOHN,ERIC, PAUL, HEY, ANYBODY?

2011-12-21T19:49:00.002-05:00

I have a complaint about the Republican majority in the House! As soon as the gasps and questions from my Sister and others subside, I will continue.

I want to ask the Republican leadership why they are letting the Democrats roll them like a San Diego lady of the night rolls a sailor on a liberty weekend?

To hear the White House and “Lyin’Harry” Reid tell it (and Nancy somebody, but nobody listens to her anymore), “160 million working Americans” are going to find a tax bill for $1000 in the mailbox on January 2. (I try to listen to the White House press briefing every day—it is broadcast on POTUS on Sirius/XM satellite radio. Twice this week, I began to count the number of times Press Secretary Jay Carney said “a tax increase for 160 million working Americans.” I stopped at 35 each time. Today, he also declared that only economists who agree with the White House are really economists. Check the transcript.) Now, everyone knows that the tax will be a few dollars every payday, and the decrease will be passed eventually and back-dated, but to hear Carney, and "Lyin' Harry talk, it sounds like the end of the world.

Tonight, I heard Lyin’ Harry’s cohort, Charles “Two-Faced Charlie” Schumer, on the PBS News Hour. "Usually, when a bill is sent from the Senate to the House, the House is expected to take it up for a vote. But Speaker Boehner won’t do that.”

I waited for the reporter to ask Two Faced Charlie if it works both ways? How many times has Lyin’ Harry refused to call up a House bill? I recall that when it was the debt extension, the President and Lyin’ Harry refused any two month extensions. “The American people need certainty,” they cried. “Only a one year extension will do.”

In fact, the President is on record as wanting a one year extension of the payroll tax cut, but “Lyin’ Harry” won’t bring that up because it’s his way or the highway.

But PBS isn't going to betray their liberal bias. Surely there is someone in the media, other than Fox, who will tell the truth. Not ABC, of course. Carney's wife works for them. But surely there is someone. I’m not holding my breath.

A PRIMER ON COURT-MARTIAL PRACTICE (PART I)

2011-12-16T20:25:00.001-05:00

As the trial process begins for Private First Class Bradley Manning, charged with violations of three articles of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, the blatant ignorance of the media with respect to courts-martial is becoming evident. Those useful kidiots who are seeking to make him a hero or a martyr are misrepresenting the nature of modern military justice. For instance, in a POLITICO article written by Josh Gerstein, he butchered the facts about military law and procedure, seemingly to make a point against the system. PFC Manning is alleged to be the Wikileaks source of hundreds of thousands of pages of classified documents. His case is currently before an investigating officer appointed pursuant to Article 32, Uniform Code of Military Justice.

To understand the system, let's start with the basics.

The Uniform Code of Military Justice. The UCMJ is federal law, enacted by the Congress and signed into law by the President. Under Article I, section 8 of the Constitution, "The Congress shall have Power . . . To make Rules for the Government and Regulation of the land and naval forces." The Code is comprised of some 144 articles which are codified under Title 10 of the United States Code at sections 801 to 941. (There are several amendments which added articles and were numbered as Article XXXa.) Included are the “punitive articles” (Arts 77 through 134) which define crimes under the Code. The others are definitional or procedural articles.

The UCMJ was enacted in 1950 as a single (uniform) body of criminal and procedural law for all of the uniformed services. Prior to 1950, there were two separate bodies of such law: the Articles of War (applicable to the Army, Air Force, and, when operating with the Army, the Marine Corps) and the Articles for the Government of the Navy (known lovingly as the “Rocks and Shoals,” i.e., something to be steered clear of).

The UCMJ was an extensive re-writing of prior military and naval law, meant to address, in part, perceived unfairness of the old systems as discovered when it was applied to a 12 million man citizen army during World War II. Two additions are particularly interesting.

Article 31 provided protection against self-incrimination and requiring a warning of that right before anyone suspected of an offense was questioned, presaging Miranda v. Arizona by over a decade. In fact, Miranda still does not come into force until a person is in custody, so Article 31 is actually broader than Miranda.

Article 32 provided a right that had been denied the Armed Forces since the adoption of the Constitution. The Fifth Amendment provides, in part, “No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger. . ..” (Emphasis added.)Prior to the enactment of the UCMJ, charges could go to trial simply upon the oath of the accuser.

Article 32 requires that before a charge is sent to trial by General Court-Martial, the officer exercising general court-martial convening authority must first convene an investigation to determine whether or not there is probable cause to believe that (1) an offense under the UCMJ has been committed and (2) the accused committed it. The investigating officer is appointed by the GCM convening authority and need not be a lawyer

Courts-Martial. Courts-martial are as old as armies. The need for discipline meant that the crimes that were committed by soldiers, especially uniquely military offenses, mandated a system that could be employed at sea and in the field. Some things are crimes in the military that are not in civilian life. If a person comes to work late while working for General Mills, General Motors or General Electric, he cannot be sent to jail. If he works for General Petraeus, the stockade may be waiting.

Courts-martial are not standing courts. Each time charges are referred to trial by a convening authority, discussed below, a new court comes into existence and is authorized to adjudicate only the charges and the accused (defendant)named in the convening order. The convening order names the military judge, the trial and defense counsel, and the members of the court.

There are three types of courts-martial.

The Summary Court-Martial is a one-officer court. He is rarely a lawyer and acts as both prosecutor and defense counsel. A summary court can try only enlisted personnel and the maximum sentence imposable is limited to 30 days confinement, forfeiture of two thirds pay for one month, and reduction in one pay grade.

The Special Court-Martial is comprised of a Military Judge, not less than three members of the court who determine guilt or innocence, and if guilty, the sentence, and in practice, a trial counsel and a defense counsel. A special court-martial can impose a maximum sentence of confinement for one year, forfeiture of two thirds pay for one year, and a bad conduct discharge.

The General Court-Martial is comprised of a Military Judge, not less than five members of the court who determine guilt or innocence, and if guilty, the sentence, and in practice, a trial counsel and a defense counsel. A general court-martial can impose a maximum sentence of death, if allowed by law, confinement for life, and forfeiture of all pay and allowances, or any lesser permissible sentence.

Until 1968, the court-martial was quasi-judicial. Every commissioned officer received extensive training in military law and, thereafter, was deemed qualified to serve as a prosecutor (trial counsel) or defense counsel in trials by Special Court-Martial, the maximum sentence imposable then being forfeiture of two thirds pay for six months, confinement at hard labor for six months, reduction to the lowest enlisted pay grade, and a bad conduct discharge (“six, six, and a kick”). Three commissioned officers, none of whom had to be a lawyer, comprised the court, and the president of the court, the senior of the three, ruled on objections and motions.

General Courts-Martial used judge advocates as defense counsel, trial counsel, and the “law officer” who advised the members of the court on the law. However, the president still made the final rulings on matters of law.

The 1968 amendments provided that accused in most special and all general courts-martial had a right to lawyer counsel. A judge advocate would be detailed as defense counsel, and the accused could, if he wanted, retain civilian defense counsel. The trial counsel in a special court could still be any officer, but in practice, was also a judge advocate. Most importantly, the amendment also created the “military judge,” a judge advocate who had been certified by the Judge Advocate General of his service as qualified to serve as a judge and who had been specially sworn to act in that capacity.

A judge advocate is an officer who is a member of the bar of the highest court of some state and who has received special training in military law. Upon completion of that training, he is designated a judge advocate by the Judge Advocate General of his service and is specially sworn as a trial and defense counsel. In other words, contrary to some folks’ belief, a military lawyer is, indeed, a lawyer.

The other two principal actors in the military justice system are the convening authority and the staff judge advocate.

Convening Authority. The convening authority is a commanding officer or other person who, by service regulation, is authorized to convene a court-martial. Almost always a commanding officer, the convening authority is limited by regulation to the level court he may convene. In the Marine Corps, for instance, only a battalion commander (usually a lieutenant colonel) may convene summary and special courts-martial. Commanding Generals are usually the convening authority for general courts-martial.

In former practice, the convening authority had great leeway in determining the personnel of the court, but in modern practice, the military judge is appointed and made available by the regional judiciary activity, the trial counsel is designated by the staff judge advocate or local legal support activity, and the defense counsel is appointed and made available by the regional defense activity. The convening authority is still allowed to select the members of the court, subject to the standards set forth in the UCMJ.

Unlike in civilian criminal law, their is no such thing as prosecutorial discretion. Unlike distict attorneys and United States attorneys, the lawyers do not decide what cases go to trial--that is a command function exercised by a convening authority. Plea bargains must be approved by the convening authority, and he alone may limit the sentencing authority of the court.

After trial, the convening authority must take action on the record of trial. The most frequent actions taken are to approve the findings and sentence imposed, but he may, in his sole discretion,reverse any findings of guilty and may decrease any sentence imposed. Obviously, he cannot reverse a finding of not guilty or increase the sentence.

Staff Judge Advocate. The SJA is the principal legal advisor to a Commanding General and, when directed to do so, also advises subordinate commanders in the chain of command. The SJA has significant responsibilities when it comes to general courts-martial.

After an Article 32 investigating officer submits his report and recommendations, the SJA must give written advice to the convening authority regarding each charge and specification. His advice must specifically affirm that (1) the specification alleges an offense under the UCMJ; (2) the specification is warranted by the evidence indicated in the report of Article 32 investigation; and (3) a court-martial would have jurisdiction over the accused and the offense. He must also recommend the action that the convening authority should take, i.e., return the charges to the officer exercising special court-martial jurisdiction, or refer to trial by general court-martial, or refer the charges to a GCM as capital (or non-capital).

The convening authority is not required to follow that advice, but if he disregards the advice, he does so at his peril.

GO NAVY! BEAT ARMY!

2011-12-10T08:40:00.000-05:00

On paper, the only two college football teams playing today have losing records. The team from "Crabtown" is 4-7 and the team that often plays "outlined against a blue-gray October sky" is 3-8. Doesn't matter.

Tonight one team will celebrate a winning season while the other will have to endure another 365 days with the memory of the loss of a single game. Today is Army-Navy.

Navy now leads the all-time series with a record of 55 wins, 49 losses, and seven ties, but that is irrelevant, for both teams will come ready to play. Each year, this game is a new season in and of itself. Today is Army-Navy.

Among the arcane knowledge that each plebe must learn and spit out on command is “How many days until Army [Navy], Mister?” The calendar starts anew tonight because today is Army-Navy.

The seniors will not be going to the NFL—they’ll go to a much tougher league where the opponents play by no rules and play for keeps. Some may be gone from this earth before the next Army-Navy game, adding their names to hallowed lists at West Point and Annapolis.

How important is this game? One morning as we stood at a morning Colors formation, the band ended with the ceremonial playing of Anchors Aweigh, followed by the Hymn. I was standing next to a Major who is an Annapolis graduate. As the band played Anchors Aweigh, Eddie, whispered to me, “I was 31 years old before I learned that the last words to that song are not ‘Beat Army.’”

How important to the Nation is the Game? Read this.

This morning they are comrades in arms. This afternoon, they will play their respective hearts out against each other . . .and then stand at attention for their own and their opponent’s alma mater. And each member of the team will know and sing his school’s song—how many players on other college teams can do that? And tonight they will once again be members of a bigger team. God bless ‘em all.

When he was Superintendent of the Military Academy, General Douglas MacArthur said of this game, “On this field of friendly strife is sown the seeds that on other days and other fields will bear the fruits of victory.”

SO, Gerry Owen, Army. Get up and get moving. Follow me.

Don’t give up the ship, Navy. Semper Fi.

Oh, yeah….GO NAVY! BEAT ARMY!

LIES, DAMNED LIES, AND STATISTICS REDUX

2011-12-02T20:46:00.000-05:00

Oh, the 2012 campaign has started and, once again, the Department of Labor is doing its part for the President.

DOL announced today that in November, the unemployment rate had plummeted 4 tenths of a percent to 8.6%. Just what the President needed in order to bolster his flagging performance. There was a footnote, however, that was overlooked by his hypesters:

To get to there, DOL counted 100,000 new hires (just in advance of the Christmas holiday shopping season; I wonder how long they will remain employed?) and stopped counting over 300,000 folks who have been unemployed for so long that DOL figures that they have stopped looking for work. I repeat: 300,000 unemployed people are no longer counted as unemployed because a bunch of accountants and statisticians say they no longer count.

In fact, DOL does not count 2.6 million persons who “were marginally attached to the labor force,” explaining that “[t]hese individuals were not in the labor force, wanted and were available for work, and had looked for a job sometime in the prior 12 months, . . . ‘[but] were not counted as unemployed because they had not searched for work in the 4 weeks preceding the survey.” (Emphasis added.)

So, for campaign purposes, the DOL report was good news for David Plouffe and Barack Obama. Not so good for the 300,000 and the 2.6 million, but what does that matter in the grand scheme of presidential politics?.

I have long proposed that the Department of Education is unnecessary, is a federal usurpation of what is a local responsibility, and ought to be closed, along with Energy and another one that I cannot think of right now. I may be wrong. Maybe the President, his campaign staff, and their liaisons at Labor need to go back to school to learn how to count.

LET ‘EM TALK

2011-12-01T13:03:00.000-05:00

This is a post that has been percolating in my junk box mind for some time. I first considered it in November 2008 and then again last year when Scott Brown was elected to the United States Senate. Now, as we enter the run-up to the 2012 general election, the pundits and prognosticators are once again considering whether or not one of the two parties can garner a “filibuster-proof” Senate.

Contrary to the popular belief in certain elements of the Democrat Party, filibuster is not an idea conjured up by George W. Bush. The filibuster dates from at least as early as the Roman Senate. As anyone who has ever seen Mr. Smith Goes To Washington knows, the filibuster was an art form in the early 20th Century. In fact, some of the most effective users of the filibuster in the recent past have been Democrat senators.

In 1946, Southern senators (Democrats all) blocked a vote on a Democrat-proposed bill to establish a permanent Fair Employment Practices Committee, an early version of what ultimately became the EEOC. The filibuster lasted weeks, and after a failed cloture vote, the bill was withdrawn even though there were sufficient votes to pass the bill itself.

In 1953, Senator Wayne Morse (I. Or.) set a record by filibustering for 22 hours and 26 minutes while protesting the Tidelands Oil legislation. Senator Strom Thurmond (D.SC) broke this record in 1957 by filibustering the Civil Rights Act of 1957 for 24 hours and 18 minutes. The bill ultimately passed. One of the most notable filibusters of the 1960s occurred when southern Democrat senators attempted, unsuccessfully, to block the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 by undertaking a filibuster that lasted for 75 hours, which included a 14 hour and 13 minute address by Senator Robert Byrd. The Senate ultimately invoked cloture and the bill passed.

The filibuster in the Senate actually came about as a result of a rules change in 1806. Prior to that, debate could be ended by any senator who made a motion "to move the previous question." Such a motion was not debatable, took precedence, and, if adopted by the body, led to an immediate vote on the pending matter. (For any Presbyterians out there, yes, there were two votes. The first on the motion to move the previous question and the second on the actual matter under debate. Just like in your most recent meeting of the presbytery.)

No substitute means of forcibly ending debate was adopted raising the possibility of filibuster. (Interestingly, the House rules also allowed for filibuster until 1842, when a permanent rule limiting the duration of debate was created. This occurred, in part, because of the growth in the size of the House as population grew and more States were added to the Union.)

As a result, a senator, or a group of senators may speak for as long as they wish and on any topic they choose, unless "three-fifths of the Senators duly chosen and sworn" (usually 60 out of 100 senators) brings debate to a close by invoking cloture under Senate Rule XXII. The procedure for "invoking cloture," or ending a filibuster, is as follows:

• A minimum of sixteen senators must sign a petition for cloture.
• The petition may be presented by interrupting another Senator's speech.
• The clerk reads the petition.
• The cloture petition is ignored for one full day during which the Senate is sitting. For example, if the petition is filed on Tuesday, it is ignored until Thursday.
• On the second calendar day during which the Senate sits after the presentation of the petition, after the Senate has been sitting for one hour, a "quorum call" is undertaken to ensure that a majority of the Senators are present.
• The President of the Senate or President pro tempore presents the petition.
• The Senate votes on the petition; three-fifths of the whole number of Senators (sixty when there are no vacancies) is the required majority; however, when cloture is invoked on a question of changing the rules of the Senate, two-thirds of the Senators voting (not necessarily two-thirds of all Senators) is the requisite majority. (This is commonly referred to in the news media as a "test vote" because if cloture is not passed, modern practice is to simply not bring the bill to the floor for debate.)

After cloture has been invoked, the debate is tightly condensed:

• No more than thirty hours of debate may occur.
• No Senator may speak for more than one hour.
• No amendments may be moved unless they were filed on the day in between the presentation of the petition and the actual cloture vote.
• All amendments must be relevant to the debate.
• Certain procedural motions are not permissible.
• The presiding officer gains additional power in controlling debate.
• No other matters may be considered (on that track) until the question upon which cloture was invoked is disposed of.

After civil rights filibusters in the 1960s, the Senate adopted a "two-track system.” Before the introduction of tracking, a filibuster would stop all Senate business. Tracking permits the majority leader – with unanimous consent or the agreement of the minority leader – to have more than one bill pending on the floor as unfinished business. Under the "two-track system", the Senate can designate specific periods during the day when each particular matter will be considered. This in and of itself limits the most significant effectiveness of the filibuster, i.e., bringing the Senate to a halt.

Nonetheless, the parties, especially the Democrats, seem to be terrorized by the prospect of a filibuster. As a result, since the 1970s, cloture has generally become a pre-emptive rather than an offensive weapon, i.e., being used in deciding whether to call up a bill rather than being used in the middle of debate. And that puzzles me.

Why are the parties so afraid of filibuster? With a couple of exceptions, they are not successful in blocking adoption of the proposed legislation. I can think of two reasons.

First, during a filibuster, more of the people may actually pay attention to what is going on in Washington. They may actually agree with the dissidents and may contact their senators with requests that they vote with the filibusterers. I am almost certain that that is why Harry Reid opted to bring the House version of Obama-care up for a procedural vote rather than allow a filibuster (which became possible when Scott Brown was elected to replace Ted Kennedy) that might have led to defections in his own caucus.

Second, both houses of the Congress have adopted such short work weeks—usually Tuesday through Thursday—that a filibuster would interfere with the more serious concerns of most members: going home to raise money for the next election. Who wants to sleep on a cot in the cloakroom when he or she could be adding to campaign coffers.

We as citizens ought be appalled. If a proposed bill is so important to the good of the Republic, the filibusterers will look silly. (I almost wrote “look like idiots.” The I remembered Mark Twains’ famous observation, “Reader, suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.”)

And if it is so bad for the Republic that only the ruling class wants it, the filibusterers may arouse public sentiment and actually get the voters to give appropriate direction to their elected senators.

So, forget this cowardly abridgement of the kind of free speech we really need. Let ‘em talk.

NEWT GINGRICH FOR PRESIDENT

2011-11-30T20:56:00.002-05:00

As one who has watched presidential elections since 1960, I have often muttered to myself, “Is this really the best we can do?” With the exception of Barry Goldwater, Richard Nixon, and Ronald Reagan, I have not been enamored of any candidate and have often regretted that there were no better options to vote for. (I was not old enough to vote for either John F. Kennedy or Barry Goldwater, but would have done so gladly. Kennedy because I was still under the sway of my beloved yellow dog Democrat Mother and Goldwater because he was right.)

After Nixon’s self-inflicted fall from grace, I was so angry with the system that I actually cast my vote in 1976 for Jimmy Carter, the single worst voting mistake I have made in my life. The man wanted written guarantees that no Iranians would be hurt before he would allow the failed rescue attempt in 1980, fer cryin’ out loud. My bad!

Over the years, I have wondered why Sam Nunn of Georgia, Scoop Jackson of Washington, and Joe Lieberman of Connecticut were not acceptable to lead the Democrats rather than George McGovern, Carter, or John Kerry (a particular despicable choice). The only time I ever felt any compassion for Kerry was in 2004 when my late brother told me that he would not vote for Kerry because “anyone stupid enough to fight in your (sic) war is not smart enough to be President.” (The sympathy for Kerry did not last long.)

On the Republican side, Jack Kemp, Pete Wilson, Paul Laxalt, and, until now, Newt Gingrich have been overlooked.

About 10 years or so ago, I happened on a class taught by then former-Congressman Gingrich which was running weekly on Saturday mornings on either C-SPAN or PBS. It was fascinating, and I began to read his books. Still, I lamented, this guy is too intelligent for the American electorate. He has actually thought through our national problems and has come up with pragmatic, responsible solutions.

This year, as it began to look as if the GOP had decided to settle for a pretty face and no spine, such as Mitt Romney or Rick Perry, I was unsettled at best. Why not Newt Gingrich?

And look what has happened! People are starting to listen, and when they do, they realize that Newt is speaking to them in words that make sense.

Oh, the naysayers will bring up a lot of irrelevant stuff in an attempt to derail this bid. He has had three wives. He can be a tough SOB to work for. He is a conservative.

He will never satisfy some people. If the American people had known about Jack Kennedy’s roving eye, perhaps Nixon would have been President in 1960. I am not a big fan of divorce, but it happens to the best of couples. All I can say on that point is that the Democratic Party better not go after him after insisting for years that Bill Clinton’s extra-marital escapades were irrelevant to his ability to govern. At least Newt married ‘em, and they were all well beyond the age of consent.

A President needs to be demanding. I’d rather a President who demands excellence from his people and who knows and tells the people what he believes in and stands for. We’ve got the alternative now—one who stands for whatever his most important supporters demand. I mean why would labor support a guy who thinks 20,000 good jobs in red states are less important than satisfying a bunch of tree huggers in birkenstocks?

With Gingrich, we’ve got 30 years of writing and thinking about issues that are truly important and are legitimate federal concerns: national defense, economic policy, and foreign policy. Thirty years ago, the current President was still a student at Columbia, and until 2004, he had never had any relevant experience in federal government. Even today, he reminds me more of Richard J. Daley than of Lyndon B. Johnson.

Newt is a conservative, but one who is an actual intellectual and pragmatic conservative. Witness his immigration proposal. At least, he wants what is best for America and not just for the hyphenated group of the week that will give votes in exchange for bread and circuses.

Newt Gingrich for President.

PS. Let the “hrumphhh’s” begin, Sis. 8>)

LET THE GAMES CONTINUE

2011-11-29T17:33:00.001-05:00

Three news items converge.

First, US News & World Report reports that the President has set a new record. One year out from the general election, his job approval rating plummeted below that of Jimmy Carter’s. Carter, described by the article as “considered among the 20th century's worst presidents,” was at 51 per cent at this point, and no President in the past 60 plus years has been at lower than that one year out—until now. The President didn’t just squeak by Carter, either. He blasted him out of the way as he plunged to a job approval rating of 43 per cent.

So, what’s a guy to do?

Well, his party is rushing to help by proposing to cut taxes, but only if they can raise them. It seems that the Senate will propose to enlarge and extend the payroll tax cut first passed at the President’s request last year. However, they insist that before they cut taxes, they must first be allowed to raise income taxes on a few people by way of a tax surcharge. Sort of a John Kerry “I was against it before I was for it” moment. The target? Milionaires and billionaires, of course.

And they know that that is a loser, even with some of their own caucus. And that grand bluffmaster, Harry Reid already concedes that he will probably have to drop the surtax to get passage. Harry, bubba, we really gotta review that negotiation tactics class.

Obama is desperate for a win on an issue that his left wing base rabidly wants. So we are condemned to hear more whining from Reid, Pelosi, and Obama.

And no one in the media is calling the President on this. According to Politico ”The payroll tax holiday extension has been a top priority for Obama, who has traveled the country in recent days to try to drum up public support for it. In Manchester, N.H., last week, he hit Republicans for opposing tax increases in general but supporting a payroll tax cut extension.” Really? Did he mention that he is in favor of cutting taxes so long as he can raise them? That line was probably cut from the speech before it went to the teleprompter.

The bottom line is this: the President is willing to work with the Congress, just so long as he gets exactly what he wants. He gets to claim a victory on cutting taxes for the middle class and the Republicans get to betray the people who elected them. Just like wrestling with a pig--everybody gets muddy and the pig loves it.

Here's an idea: If the payroll tax cut is really a top priority, and if the President wants compromise, why not just offer the tax cut?

As we used to say in the old Corps, "Nevah hatchee." If he did that, then his base will claim that he has abandoned their ardent desire for a class war.

And expect it to continue. A man who knows how to be a candidate, but not how to be President, will hit the road again tomorrow. Obama 2008 will just merge into Obama 2012 and continue the medicine show, complete with snake oil salesman-in-chief.

According to Jay Carney, the Press Secretary, in today's briefing the American people expect the President to be constantly on the road visiting them. When asked why only battleground states were being targeted, and whether or not these are really campaign stops being financed by the American people, Carney suggested that the President has a duty to get out of the office and visit the people. Any help to the campaign is just a secondary blessing, I suppose.

I would suggest that what they really need is someone who leads. Heaven knows, I’m no fan of LBJ, but before the debt limit debacle last summer, he would have had the Speaker and Harry Reid in for drinks, threats, and a little wood shedding! For both of them! For all of his ills, he knew how to be President.

But the current White House is oblivious. So, get your popcorn, settle back in your seats, and watch the next round in this farce.

VETERANS DAY 2011

2011-11-11T16:23:00.000-05:00

Today marks the 93d anniversary of the armistice which ended the fighting on the Western Front in the World War. It took effect at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, 1918. Within a few years, November 11 became an American national holiday known as Armistice Day. After we had to start numbering world wars, in 1954, Congress renamed Armistice Day to Veterans Day. While Veterans Day is, and ought to be, marked by solemn ceremonies such as the laying of a wreath by the President at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington National Cemetery, it is a day to honor living veterans who may be appropriately wished "happy Veterans Day." This contrasts with Memorial Day which honors those who died on the field of honor and, by definition, ought never be a "happy" day.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARINES

2011-11-10T23:03:00.032-05:00

Today is the 236th Birthday of the finest fighting force the world has ever known, with the possible exception of the XIII Legion in Gaul and Jackson's Brigade in the Valley. I speak of course, of the United States Marine Corps.

I was privileged to lead Marines in combat as a platoon commander and executive officer of Company C, First Battalion, Fifth Marines. Charlie Company was the successor to John Thomason's company of the Fifth Marines in Belleau Woods in France in 1918.

The Marines and Corpsmen of Charlie Company are always with me, especially Lucas, Zimmerman, Tews, Unfried, Phipps, Wandro and, of course, Chip--2d Lt Fred Andrew Hartman, USMC. Tonight, at sunset, I stood on my deck "at sunset and was silent, over Chilean wine, . . . thinking of those days and those men."

Semper Fidelis

MARINE CORPS ORDERS
No. 47 (Series 1921)
HEADQUARTERS U.S. MARINE CORPS
Washington, November 1, 1921

759. The following will be read to the command on the 10th of November, 1921, and hereafter on the 10th of November of every year. Should the order not be received by the 10th of November, 1921, it will be read upon receipt.

(1) On November 10, 1775, a Corps of Marines was created by a resolution of Continental Congress. Since that date many thousand men have borne the name "Marine". In memory of them it is fitting that we who are Marines should commemorate the birthday of our corps by calling to mind the glories of its long and illustrious history.

(2) The record of our corps is one which will bear comparison with that of the most famous military organizations in the world's history. During 90 of the 146 years of its existence the Marine Corps has been in action against the Nation's foes. From the Battle of Trenton to the Argonne, Marines have won foremost honors in war, and in the long eras of tranquility at home, generation after generation of Marines have grown gray in war in both hemispheres and in every corner of the seven seas, that our country and its citizens might enjoy peace and security.

(3) In every battle and skirmish since the birth of our corps, Marines have acquitted themselves with the greatest distinction, winning new honors on each occasion until the term "Marine" has come to signify all that is highest in military efficiency and soldierly virtue.

(4) This high name of distinction and soldierly repute we who are Marines today have received from those who preceded us in the corps. With it we have also received from them the eternal spirit which has animated our corps from generation to generation and has been the distinguishing mark of the Marines in every age. So long as that spirit continues to flourish Marines will be found equal to every emergency in the future as they have been in the past, and the men of our Nation will regard us as worthy successors to the long line of illustrious men who have served as "Soldiers of the Sea" since the founding of the Corps.

JOHN A. LEJEUNE,
Major General Commandant

The Leathernecks by Col John Thomason (Fix Bayonets!)

LEATHERNECKS

THEY tell the tale of an American lady of notable good works, much esteemed by the French, who, at the end of June, 1918, visited one of the field hospitals behind Degoutte’s Sixth French Army. Degoutte was fighting on the face of the Marne salient, and the 2d American Division, then in action around the Bois de Belleau, northeast of Chateau Thierry, was under his orders. It happened that occasional casualties of the Marine Brigade of the 2d American Division, wounded toward the flank where Degoutte’s own horizon-blue infantry joined on, were picked up by French stretcher-bearers and evacuated to French hospitals. And this lady, looking down a long, crowded ward, saw on a pillow a face unlike the fiercely whiskered Gallic heads there displayed in rows. She went to it.

“Oh,” she said, “surely you are an American!”

“No, ma’am,” the casualty answered. I’m a Marine.”

The men who marched up the Paris-Metz road to meet the Boche in the spring of 1918, the 5th and 6th Regiments of United States Marines, were gathered from various places. In the big war companies, 250 strong, you could find every sort of man, from every sort of calling. There were North-westerners with straw-colored hair that looked white against their tanned skins, and delicately spoken chaps with the stamp of the Eastern universities on them. There were large-boned fellows from Pacific-coast lumber camps, and tall, lean Southerners who swore amazingly in gentle drawling voices. There were husky farmers from the corn-belt, and youngsters who had sprung, as it were, to arms from the necktie counter. And there were also a number of diverse people who ran curiously to type, with drilled shoulders and a bone-deep sunburn, and a tolerant scorn of nearly everything on earth. Their speech was flavored with navy words, and words culled from all the folk who live on the seas and the ports where our war-ships go. In easy hours their talk ran from the Tartar Wall beyond Peking to the Southern Islands down under Manila; from Portsmouth Navy Yard-New Hampshire and very cold-to obscure bush-whackings in the West Indies, where Cacao chiefs whimsically sanguinary, barefoot generals, with names like Charlemagne and Christophe, waged war according to the precepts of the French Revolution and the Cult of the Snake. They drank the eau de vie of Haute-Marne, and reminisced on sake, and vino, and Bacardi Rum-strange drinks in strange cantinas at the far ends of the earth; and they spoke fondly of Milwaukee beer. Rifles were high and holy things to them, and they knew five-inch broadside guns. They talked patronizingly of the war, and were concerned about rations. They were the Leathernecks, the Old Timers; collected from ship’s guards and shore stations all over the earth to form the 4th Brigade of Marines, the two rifle regiments detached from the Department of the Navy by order of the President for service with the American Expeditionary Forces. They were the old breed of American regular, regarding the service as home and war as an occupation; and they transmitted their temper and character and view-point to the high-hearted volunteer mass which filled the ranks of the Marine Brigade.

It is a pleasure to record that they found good company in the U. S. Army. The 2d Division (U. S. Regular was the official designation) was composed of the 9th and 23d Infantry, two old regiments with names from all of our wars on their battle-flags, the 2d Regiment of Engineers-and engineers are always good-and the 12th, 15th, and 17th Field Artillery. It was a division distinguished by the quality of dash and animated by an especial pride of service. It carried to a high degree esprit de corps, which some Frenchman has defined as esteeming your own corps and looking down on all the other corps. And although it paid heavily in casualties for the things it did-in five months about 100 per cent-the 2d Division never lost its professional character.

Seven years after, across the world from /France, I met a major of the American General Staff, who was on the Paris-Metz road that last week in May, 1918, and saw the Marine Brigade. “They looked fine, coming in there,” he said. “Tall fellows, healthy and fit-they looked hard and competent. We watched you going in, through those little tired Frenchmen, and we all felt better. We knew something was going to happen-“ and we were silent, over Chilean wine, in a place on the South Pacific, thinking of those days and those men.

There is no sight in all the pageant of war like young, trained men going up to battle. The columns look solid and businesslike. Each battalion is an entity, 1,200 men of one purpose. They go on like a river that flows very deep and strong. Uniforms are drab these days, but there are points of light on the helmets and the bayonets, and light in the quick, steady eyes and the brown young faces, greatly daring. There is no singing-veterans know, and they do not sing much-and there is no excitement at all; they are schooled crafts-men going up to impose their will, with the tools of their trade, on another lot of fellows; and there is nothing to make a fuss about. Battlefields are not salubrious places, and every file knows that a great many more are going in than will come out again-but that goes along with the job. And they have no illusions about the job.

There is nothing particularly glorious about sweaty fellows, laden with killing tools, going along to fight. And yet-such a column represents a great deal more than 28,000 individuals mustered into a division. All that is behind those men is in that column too: the old battles, long forgotten, that secured our nation-Brandywine and Trenton and Yorktown, San Jacinto and Chapultepec, Gettysburg, Chickamauga, Antietam, El Caney; scores of skirmishes, far off, such as the Marines have nearly every year in which a man can be killed as dead as ever a chap in the Argonne; traditions of things endured and things accomplished, such as regiments hand down forever; and the faith of men and the love of women; and that abstract thing called patriotism, which I never heard combat soldiers mention-all this passes into the forward zone, to the point of contact, where war is girt with horrors. Common men endure these horrors and overcome them, along with the insistent yearnings of the belly and the reasonable promptings of fear; and in this, I think, is glory.

RICHARD NIXON, BILL CLINTON, AND HERMAN CAIN: A Short Study in Damage Control

2011-11-07T12:58:00.002-05:00

This has been a bad week for the Cain campaign. They handled the report about some 1995 alleged sexual misconduct (of an unspecified nature, involving anonymous complainants) poorly, allowing the press and his opponents to speculate at will and interview each other, keeping the story alive. Yesterday, for instance, Christiane Amanpour asked former Secretary of State Rice a question to this effect: “Well, although we have no concrete information, assuming that there was some serious misconduct, is his candidacy over?” Yeah, he’s in trouble.

At least one report I heard revealed that the campaign had 10 days notice before the story broke. Why weren’t they prepared?

Instead, when it did break, in the space of one day, Cain denied the story, then “recalled” some of it, then more of it. He quibbled over whether there had been a “settlement” or “only an agreement” to pay one woman $35,000 and another $45,000 “severance packages.” By the end of the week, the “cover up” had become the story. No details of the events are available and the anonymous complainants refuse to speak publicly. A real mess!

This got me to thinking about how two other crises were handled by a presidential or campaign staff.

GENNIFER FLOWERS: During Bill Clinton's 1992 Presidential election campaign, it was revealed that Clinton and a model and actress named Gennifer Flowers engaged in a 12-year sexual relationship while Clinton was Governor of Arkansas. His team quickly arranged for Clinton to appear on the CBS news program 60 Minutes. Clinton denied having a relationship with Flowers, and his wife, now Secretary of State Clinton, “stood by her man.” The Flowers accusation was generally accepted by the voting public as a publicity stunt on Flower's part and Clinton avoided any serious threat to his campaign. (Clinton was deposed in January 1998, at which time he admitted that, indeed, he had a sexual encounter with Flowers, but by then he was already in his second term.)

WATERGATE: In June 1972, during Richard Nixon’s second campaign, a burglary was committed in the offices of the Democratic National Committee (DNC)headquarters at the Watergate office complex in Washington, D.C. Five men were apprehended in the DNC’s offices, apparently attempting to bug, or remove bugs from, the offices of DNC Chair Lawrence O’Brien and others. O’Brien, one of JFK’s “Irish mafia” of political advisors, was then serving his second term as DNC Chair.

It was later determined that the burglars had been paid from a to a slush fund maintained in the Committee to Re-Election the President (CREEP). Evidence developed by the FBI, soon pointed to the inside of the White House.

The Senate established a Committee, chaired by Senator Sam Ervin (D.NC) to investigate. Counsel for the committee included Sam Dash (majority counsel) and Fred Thomson (minority counsel. In the course of the hearing, it was revealed that President Nixon had a tape recording system in his offices and that he had recorded many conversations. A conspiracy to cover up the break-in, between President Nixon and his two top aides, Robert Haldeman and John Ehrlichman, as well as other aides, was revealed by the tapes. Nixon resisted a Committee subpoena to turn over the tapes, resulting in a protracted series of court battles regarding the President’s claim of executive privilege. The U.S. Supreme Court ultimately ruled unanimously that the President had to comply with the subpoena. He resigned the presidency shortly thereafter.

WARNING: Shameless name-dropping follows.

Samuel Dash, the majority counsel of the Watergate Committee, was a legendary lawyer. In his 53-year legal career, he helped draft the independent counsel statute to correct the abuses of that system during the Watergate prosecution, served as ethics counsel to the Whitewater independent counsel Kenneth Starr, and was an expert on the law of electronic surveillance.

Mr. Dash joined the Philadelphia district attorney's office in 1952 and was appointed district attorney in 1955 at age 30. He went into private practice the next year and conducted a nationwide investigation of wiretapping, resulting in a 1959 book, "The Eavesdroppers," that is credited with helping change the Supreme Court's position and federal and state laws on electronic surveillance.

Beginning in 1965, he was a a professor at Georgetown University's law school where he also served as director of its Institute for Criminal Law and Procedures. In the 1970s, he helped Chief Justice Warren E. Burger devise the American Bar Association's ethical standards for prosecutors and criminal defense lawyers. He had a well-deserved reputation for independence and was an advocate for legal ethics throughout his career.

After a scandal arose in 2002, Mr. Dash served on a task force to reform the ethical standards and organization of the United Way of the National Capital Area.

In the 1990s, he was ethics counsel for a case I was involved in with respect to federal election law. One Saturday morning as we waited for a new draft of a pleading to be prepared, we sat in a conference room and talked about some of his experiences.

“You know, Professor,” I said, “if I had been advising the Nixon Whitehouse in June of 1972, I would have done two things. First, I would have advised the President to destroy all of those darned tapes that very day, before anyone knew they existed and before the inevitable subpoenae were issued when their existence was revealed. There would be no obstruction of justice (at least under 1972 law) because there was no order to preserve or produce them. I would have told the President, ‘You can’t be a party to unilateral electronic surveillance of people who come into your office expecting confidentiality. It sets a bad example. If you are ever questioned about why the tapes were destroyed, you can cite your concerns for the Bill of Rights.’”

“Well,” he replied, “you just ended our investigation.”

I continued. “‘Second,’ you need to fire anyone, including Haldeman and Ehrlichman, who might have had anything to do with the break-in. Then, call a press conference to announce right there the firings. Say something like this:

My fellow Americans. One of the things about being president is that everyone wants to please you. If I were to mutter to myself at 2 am that I would like a strawberry baked Alaska, one would appear momentarily.

Now, a few weeks ago, I was talking with my staff about the upcoming election. As you know, after the primary elections, the Senator from South Dakota appears to be the presumptive nominee of the other party. I mused to myself, “I sure would like to be a fly on the wall of Larry O’Brien’s office right now to see how he and the rest of the old Kennedy hands plan to take the nomination away from Senator McGovern and give it to Teddy Kennedy.”

I now believe that those staffers—misguidedly and improperly—took my musing as an order. I have, sadly but necessarily, asked for their resignations and they have tendered them. It is now a matter for the police and the courts to resolve.

But I still do wonder how Mr. O’Brien plans to take the nomination from Mr. McGovern and give it to Mr. Kennedy.

Thank you and good night.

Professor Dash grinned and shook his head. “I’m glad you weren’t there,” he said. “The whole story thereafter would have been about an attempt to overturn the primary results by the old guard in the Democratic Party.”

I will never forget that conversation.

Fast forward to last week. Here is what I would have had Cain do as soon as the story broke—or preemptively, as soon as I heard that Politico was going to run it.

Background: In the last quarter of the 20th Century, sexual harassment in the workplace became an issue. Several high dollar claims were settled in the late 1980s and early 90s that made more employees aware of the “benefits” of alleging sexual harassment as a basis for dismissal. For instance, between 1997 and 2009, the EEOC dismissed roughly half of all harassment claims filed as “no reasonable cause” claims. In 2010, that percentage rose to nearly two-thirds.

In the 1990s, sexual harassment claims were popular with employees who were being terminated because the claim itself was damaging to a company and thus, the employee had a good bargaining chip. The spectre of bad publicity led many employers and their insurers to be more likely to settle claims early in the process for the “nuisance value” of the claim, i.e., the potential cost of investigation and defense of a suit dwarfed the settlement amount.

In Cain's case, the settlement amounts appear to me to be nuisance value settlements.

All that being said, I would have recommended that Cain say something like this.

In the mid-1990s, while I was CEO of the National Restaurant Association, I became aware that a couple of soon-to-be-dismissed employees were alleging that I had somehow improperly harassed them. While I deny that claim now and denied it then, I knew that the mere allegation was serious and could affect both the morale of the Association’s employees and the reputation of the Association itself.

I promptly recused myself from taking any further part in the matter, assigning it to the director of our human resources department and our general counsel.

I seem to recall that the claims were deemed to be of no substance, but to avoid any damage to the Association, it was decided by those responsible for making the decision (and perhaps our insurers) to “settle” the claims for the value of a few month’s salary for each of the terminated employees. In business, these low dollar settlements (each was around $40,000) are known as “nuisance value settlements.” That means that the company, association, or insurer thinks the claim is meritless, but the cost of investigating the claim and litigating it would far exceed the amount of the settlement.

I had no part in making any settlement decision, but, as an experienced businessman, I think that it is better to spend a few dollars to settle unfounded claims such as these rather than 10 or 20 times the amount to win a legal “victory.”

I do recall that when settling claims such as this, our counsel often suggested that the settlement amount be easily divisible by 3 so that the attorney’s one-third share of the claim could be easily determined.

The filing of unfounded suits or claims such as these, often as a revenue-generating action by trial lawyers, continues to be a real problem in American business. That is why I support tort reform and other reforms to cut the costs of such trivial litigation in American business and medicine, even as the trial lawyers seek more ways to make their fortunes on the backs of plaintiffs who have no real claim.

Thank you and good night.

COL WILLIAM E. RILEY, USMC

2011-10-30T14:53:00.000-04:00

I have just learned that Colonel William E. Riley, Jr., USMC reported to Marine Barracks, Heaven earlier this summer. Colonel Riley was my battalion commander in Vietnam about whom I have written here, here, here, here, and here.

The Colonel was a tremendous combat leader, having served in Korea as a lieutenant and then in Vietnam, as Commanding Officer, 1st Battalion, Fifth Marines, 1st Marine Division. It seemed to the junior officers of the battalion that he never forgot what it was like to be a small unit leader. He trusted his subordinates and it showed. He was one of those men who other men eagerly follow, no matter how unpleasant the trip might be. Acts such as the implicit trust he placed in a 19 year old squad leader to adjust a supporting arm that could have killed us all earned him our undying trust, respect, and devotion.

Semper Fidelis.

JEFFERSON DAVIS, PLEASE CALL YOUR OFFICE. ALL IS FORGIVEN.

2011-09-30T14:07:00.000-04:00

Not six hours after the announcement that the US had killed Anwar al-Awlaki and one of his key staff, Samir Khan, the sniping begins. The ACLU, which woud be one of the first organizations to be banned and persecuted under an Islamic government, is concerned that these terrorist commanders who have actually waged war on the United States, were not afforded due process of law before the attack. [Yeah, I know Ron Paul spoke up, too, and he is as wrong as the loony left. He ought to know better.]

If killing one enemy commander who happens to have US citizenship is a denial of constitutional rights, the hundreds of thousands of American citizens killed on the order of Abraham Lincoln were grossly violated when they took up arms on behalf of the Confederate States of America. Sadly for them, the ACLU wasn’t around to take up their claim. Or perhaps the ACLU, with its selective “hate America first agenda”, is only interested if the citizen they are worrying about is from a group which the American left likes.

Still, I’ll bet Isoroku Yamamoto wishes this rule had applied in 1943.

THE GLORIOUS AMERICAN GAME

2011-09-29T10:36:00.000-04:00

“In our sun-down perambulations, of late, through the outer parts of Brooklyn, we have observed several parties of youngsters playing ‘base’, a certain game of ball...Let us go forth awhile, and get better air in our lungs. Let us leave our close rooms...the game of ball is glorious.” Brooklyn Eagle, July 23, 1846

I grew up in Missouri (pre-A’s) and Illinois. As someone wrote in SI circa 1966, “St. Louis is a town where a kid grows up with a Budweiser in one hand and a score card in the other.” Cardinals fans are the greatest fans in American sport.

The collapse of the Phillies in 1964 was an answered prayer for me, something I had waited for for as long as I could understand baseball. [For those who are culturally illiterate, the Phils led the league by 6 1⁄2 games with 12 to go. Then came a ten-game losing streak that ended the year for the Phils, although they ended the season tied for second with the Reds.]

The Cards went on to beat the Yanks in seven, only the second time that the Yanks had lost back-to-back World Series. My hero was, in Harry Caray’s words, “Barney Schultz, the Cards’ ace knuckle-baller.”

After I retired from the Marine Corps, I moved to the Philadelphia area, but it was that loveable band of misfits, the 1993 Phils, that captured my heart. Led by Dutch Daulton, John Kruk, Lenny Dykstra, and Curt Schilling, the day-to-day roster also included Pete “Inky” Incaviglia, rookie Mickey Morandini, Jim Eisenreich--a real "big leaguer", Rubén Amaro, Jr. (now the Phils’ GM), Larry Anderson (now one of the Phils’ broadcasters and my candidate for the Joe Garragiola award for best color commentator), and Mitch “The Wild Thing” Williams. In a classic “worst-to-first” season, the “Phighting Phils” took the lead in the NL East on opening day, and never relinquished the lead.

A rain-delayed double-header in July lasted just shy of 12 hours. Folks who left the game at midnight came back in the wee hours to see Mitch Williams win the second game on an RBI single at 4:41 AM.

In the NL championship series, the Phils beat the Braves (then in the West) 4 games to 2. The Series against the Blue Jays went to 6 games, but the Jays won the series on Joe Carter’s walk-off homer off Mitch Williams. [I have never seen that home run. I had a pillow case over my head for the actual hit, and I still cannot bear to see it when it is re-run. At the Hall of Fame in 1998, I turned away from a film clip of the homer. Another visitor looked at me and said, “My God, you’re a Phillies fan!” That was my epiphany.]

Then came the glorious years at the end of the first decade of a new century. 2007 marked the Phils return to post-season play, followed by the World Series win in 2008, which a merciful God allowed Harry Kalas to call just before he was called up to join the broadcast team of Mel Allen, Harry Caray, and others following the Heavenly Choir Nine.

There was a return to the series in 2009, won by the Yanks, a loss to the Rockies in the 2010 LCS, and now, another post season following the best year in Phillies history (102-60). That the 102d win came in an extra-innings win over the hapless, choke-prone Braves (which gave the Cards a thrilling come from behind wild card win) was icing on the cake.

Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, Jimmy Rollins, Placido Polanco, Raul Ibanez, Shane Victorino, Hunter Pence, Carlos Ruiz, and the pitchers, Roy “Doc” Halladay, Cole Hamels, Kyle Kendrick, Cliff Lee, Roy Oswalt, Vance Worley, Brad Lidge, and Ryan Madson, led by the skipper, Charlie Manuel will push the Eagles off the front page for awhile. I’ll be in agony while the Cards and Phils duke it out. Ironically, I'll be in Tampa which staged its own come-from-behind wild card run, for all of those games.

Still, it is the post season, the best days of the year.

OF SAILORS, DOGS AND SENATOR VEST

2011-09-01T09:17:00.003-04:00

Chief Petty Officer Jon Tumilson, U.S. Navy, was a son of the mid-West. From the landlocked heartland, like so many men before him, he joined the Navy. Two weeks ago, this warrior was one of the men who were killed in action when his SEAL Team was shot down in Afghanistan. He was returned to his hometown in Rockford, Iowa to rest eternally until the Lord returns.

At his funeral, one of his cousins, Lisa Pembleton, took a photograph of CPO Tumilson’s dog, Hawkeye, laying beside the flag-draped casket.

I hope that Chief Tumlison, a son of Iowa and Senator George Graham Vest (1830-1904), a son of Missouri, get a chance to be together in Heaven. Both know the truth about dogs.

Senator vest was justly famous for a closing argument he made in a case tried in Warrenton, Missouri, in which he represented the owner of a dog, Old Drum, who had been shot by a sheep herder. So powerful was his closing that the it is said that the jury returned a verdict for the owner of $500, ten times the jurisdictional maximum of $50. A statue of Old Drum now stands in front of the Courthouse in Warrensburg.

In his closing, Mr. Vest said

Gentlemen of the jury: The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it the most. A man’s reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him and the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog.

Gentlemen of the jury: A man’s dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master’s side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.

If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death.

So here’s to Chief Petty Officer Jon Tumilson, loyal son of Iowa, squared away North American bluejacket, and Hawkeye’s shipmate.

PRAYERS FOR FELLOWSHIP PC(USA)

2011-08-24T11:36:00.003-04:00

Beginning tomorrow, the Fellowship PC(USA) Gathering will convene in Minneapolis, Minnesota. For a good discussion of what faces the group, see GA Junkie ("Fellowship PC(USA) Gathering -- Some Things To Pay Attention To" 8/15/2011). Some 1900 registered attendees, representing 830 Presbyterian Church (USA) [PC(USA)] congregations will assemble for prayer, teaching of the Word, and examination of possible ways forward for orthodox churches within a denomination that has, in my opinion, completely left the tracks of the Reformed faith in favor of bowing to the demands of the world.

As one of the authors and editors of the report of the New Wineskins Strategy Team, and a ruling elder in one of the first four churches to leave the PC(USA) in 2007, I will view this meeting from afar and with interest.

Some folks who were involved, to one degree or another, with the New Wineskins Association of Churches (nee New Wineskins Initiative) are now involved with the Fellowship. Others appear to be the remnant of the two churches within one structure (the "2 synod model")camp that was so evident some ten years ago at the height of the Confessing Church Movement.

Some will attend who have different lines in the sand than did we who fought our way out of the PC(USA) four years ago. They will probably follow us out, through the holes we opened for them at great cost. And finally, a very few others, mainly the victors in the long-lasting guerrilla war fought by those who demanded that the PC(USA) abandon Scripture in favor of a worldly ordination standard, are admittedly attending with the intent of sowing more seeds of distrust and dissension.

In our Strategy Team Report which was unanimously adopted by the more than 600 delegates to the New Wineskins convocation in February 2007, Rev. Dr. Rick Wolling and I wrote:

In this report, we set out a strategy for achieving a new thing, and for engaging in and effecting a realignment that fosters and nurtures that vision. The goal is to further the Great Ends of the Church, and not to undermine, but to uphold our life together as members of the Body of Christ.

Some of us will be called to follow The Plan detailed in Part III that leads to new relationships with brothers and sisters in Christ who are in a different place. Those who follow this path will leave their parent’s home and join with others to discover new ways to carry out the Great Commission.

Others may be called to stay where they are and be a prophetic witness to what has been our traditional home. Those who follow this path will continue to strive to reform, renew and repair the old homestead so that it can once again be a vibrant and welcoming lodging for those who are lost and hungry for the Word.

That being said, we implore all to whom this report shall come: there must be a new thing, wherever it may occur. To simply stand fast and relax in the status quo is to agree that no change is necessary. Is such a course a faithful response to the moment in time in which we find ourselves? We emphatically respond, “No!”

We believe there are two faithful options for evangelicals to follow:

To realign with an evangelical, Reformed body that is more faithful to Christ, obedient to Scripture and seeks a missionally focused partnership with us than is the PC(USA); or

To stay in place within the PC(USA), while working for the reformation and renewal of that part of the Body of Christ if so led by the Holy Spirit.

From what I have read, the Fellowship is still struggling with those issues.

For those of us who left in the first wave, the line in the sand was the Trinity report and the PUP report received and/or adopted by the PC(USA) in its 2006 General Assembly. For the Fellowship, the issues are the adoption of the New Form of Government and the abandonment of Scripturally-based ordination standards approved by the 2010 GA and ratified by the presbyteries in 2010-11.

If the Fellowship focuses on the important issues of God’s sovereignty and the authority of His Word, I can see the possibility of some real renewal in the PC(USA) as many of its most influential and orthodox congregations finally take a stand. But if the focus is simply on creating two different bodies joined only by common pension, medical, and retirement plans and an endowment fund, in which one body submits to a new, hierarchical denomination controlled from Louisville, while the other hopes to ignore that hierarchy, well…the Titanic will sink, no matter how the deck chairs are arranged.

There are many wonderful brothers and sister in Christ who will join this week to determine the future of the PC(USA), and they need and deserve our prayers.

BALANCED BUDGET AMENDMENT NOW!

2011-08-23T19:00:00.000-04:00

On one of Sunday’s talk shows, Gov. Mitch Daniels of Indiana was asked one of those “Have you stopped beating your wife?” questions that pass for journalism today.

“Governor,” he was asked, “what do you say to your party when in the recent debate, every candidate said they would not accept a deficit reduction plan that had curt spending by ten dollars for every dollar of tax increases?”

Surprise! Mitch belted that one out of the park.

He said that the real problem for at least the past half century has been that every time a deal like that is accepted — multiple dollars in cuts for each new tax dollar — the taxes have always been enacted right away while the cuts just never seem to be made.

Exactly right. I am so sick of hearing the President and the Dems in Congress telling us that there is no need for a balanced budget amendment. According to the Prez, all we need is for “members of Congress to do their jobs.” But the history of the past 80 plus years teaches that politicians are simply unable to pass up the opportunity of spending other peoples’ money on the things necessary to get them reelected. See, e.g., this article from Nevada (coincidentally, the home of Harry Reid) about $490,000 of stimulus money that created 1.72 (yeah, less than 2) permanent jobs.

I want a little piece of that action!

I’M FROM THE GOVERNMENT. YOU CAN TRUST ME.

2011-08-19T19:43:00.003-04:00

As we enter a time of bus tour presidential ~~campaigning~~ “investigation,” the proponents of the Obama-led drive towards bigger government constantly assure us that we have nothing to fear from such a government. We are promised that when we are compelled to release all sorts of personal information, including but not limited to medical information, the law will protect the confidentiality of that information.

But now, we learn that even if the regulators try to obey the law, any member of Congress can request any information he wants and then spread it across the media.

According to an August 19 Reuters article by Sarah N. Lynch, confidential oil trading data collected by the Commodities Futures Trading Commission (CFTC) has been intentionally leaked to a Wall Street Journal reporter. The article states that the leaked information “exposed the extensive positions speculators held in the run-up to record high prices in 2008. . .. Senator Bernie Sanders, a staunch critic of oil speculators, leaked the information to a major newspaper in a move that has unsettled both regulators and Wall Street alike.”

The CFTC is specifically barred from releasing confidential data it collects. However, the law also requires the CFTC to produce such information if a Congressional committee acting within its proper authority requests it. “Once it is in the hands of Congress, there is nothing to prevent lawmakers from releasing it publicly.”

In this case, when the CFTC first became aware of the breach of the data, it conducted an internal investigation to determine whether agency staffers were the source of the leak. The investigation concluded that no CFTC employees were involved. Instead, it appears that the data was first formally requested by the Energy and Commerce Committee of the U.S. House of Representatives. From there it made its way into Sanders’ hands. It is interesting to note that Representative Henry Waxman, a liberal Democrat and ally of Senator Sanders, was the Chairman of the Committee when the data was obtained from the CFTC. Unsurprisingly, Sanders’ office refused to say exactly how it acquired the confidential information.

Now I hold no brief for the oil or commodities trading industries. I suspect that there were indeed shenanigans involved in the sudden catapult that sent oil prices skyrocketing in the summer of 2008. In addition to starting the landslide that engulfed our economy, it surely did no good to John McCain’s presidential hopes.

But the larger concern is the egoistic—even egomaniacal—assertion by one Senator that he is above the law, that he can ignore the protections that were consideration for people to produce otherwise privileged information to the government.

Certainly, this precedent must raise concerns at the CFTC, which is legally prohibited from releasing confidential information that identifies trader positions and identities, and other regulatory agencies which are also barred from releasing information. Many agencies are tasked with gathering information for use in proactively preventing future dangers to people, property, and the nation’s economy and security. If people realize that an investigator’s promise that “we cannot release this information,” means nothing, they will be less likely to give information voluntarily and in a timely manner.

But that meant nothing to Sanders. Ignoring the CFTC’s legal obligation to preserve the confidentiality of the information it obtained, we are informed that “In a statement from Sanders provided to Reuters, Sanders said he felt the data needed to be publicly aired. ‘The CFTC has kept this information hidden (sic) from the American public for nearly three years," he said. "This is an outrage. The American people have a right to know exactly who caused gas prices to skyrocket in 2008 and who is causing them to spike today.’" (Emphasis added.)

Perhaps next year he will decide that the American people have a right to know details of my medical treatment by the VA. . . or your vasectomy! It his decision alone, the law be damned.

A NEW LOW IN JOURNALISM

2011-06-14T10:05:00.000-04:00

If you consider CNN’s John King a journalist, then journalism is the worst for it. He had an opportunity last night to ask substantive questions of seven candidates for the Presidency. He did so, occasionally, but wasted time that could have been spent on the problems our nation faces by asking such probing questions as: Leno or Conan? Elvis or Johnny Cash? Spicy wings or mild?

He is free to be a comedian on his own time, but when CNN bills an event as newsworthy, he ought to stick to business.

Just sayin'.......

DÉJÀ VU ALL OVER AGAIN

2011-06-10T08:18:00.000-04:00

This morning, I had the honor to welcome home a neighbor who just returned from his sixth or seventh deployment to the Iraq-Afghan theater of operations. After reintroducing him to the concept of “green” as an actual color, we spoke for just a few minutes.

He noted that Afghanistan had changed remarkably since his last deployment. Much of the urban scene is electrified now. (“Urban” is a relative term; he was referring to the cities and major villages, all of which had been at a 19th century level under the Taliban.) The attacks we read about are sporadic and random, rather than a rolling wave of resistance.

When I asked him about troop morale, he replied, “It’s really pretty good. The thing that gets to them is that the American press is ignoring all the good that we are doing and harp only on the bad stuff.”

Now, ask the average Vietnam vet, at least the grunt, about his feelings for the press, and you would get a very similar answer. It is, indeed, "déjà vu all over again". [Lawrence Peter Berra (American philosopher, commentator and Hall of Fame catcher and manager).]

My friend went on to say that the talk of deadlines for withdrawal is unsettling. Our troops are working hard to train a viable Afghan army and national police force, but the recruits they are getting need more work than do their American counterparts arriving at American boot camps. Most cannot read and have little or no concept of what is a law. To think that a four month boot camp can prepare a man to start performing as a police officer is absurd. Given the time, we could field a viable national peace keeping and law enforcement body, but we would need time.

But Congress, which cannot perform its assigned task of, e.g., adopting an annual budget, seems to be sure that it is qualified to direct an army in the field. It didn’t work for the Continental Congress, it was ineptly handled by the Civil war congresses, and the meddling in the details of war-fighting by the congresses of 1968-1975 bordered on criminal negligence.

The problem is that we have barely 300 years of history as a distinct people and just over 200 as a nation. We are incapable, it seems, of taking the long view. For us, ten years is a long time; for our adversaries, something that happened in the 14th Century is yesterday’s news. For so long as that mental historic discipline fails us, it will continue to be déjà vu all over again.

A PERFECT SPRING AFTERNOON

2011-06-05T16:59:00.000-04:00

What could be better than sitting under a shade tree, enjoying the cool breezes, as I gaze out over a newly planted field of soybeans in the company of a sweet and loyal dog?

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO COMMON COURTESY AND COMMON SENSE?

2011-06-03T20:19:00.001-04:00

I was almost rear-ended today.

I was in a grocery store parking lot, parked between two suvs, neither of which was there when I parked. After I completed my shopping, I was backing into the lane to leave. I was moving slowly because I could not see over or through the larger vehicles. Suddenly, a small Toyota came racing into my view and swerved violently around the the rear of my vehicle. The driver was on her cell phone at the time.

This has happened to me more and more frequently in parking lots. If I see a car backing out, I preemptively apply the “last clear chance” doctrine. Knowing that I can see the backer much better than the backing driver can see me, I stop and allow the vehicle to get out of his or her parking spot. But most folks seem so preoccupied with cell phones and speed that they play demolition derby by swerving to go around.

Today, the young woman stopped and came over to lecture me. “You almost hit me,” she yelled. Then, into her phone she said, “This guy almost hit me. He couldn’t see me coming because of this suv, but he just started to back out anyway! It’s a good thing I saw his backup lights and was able to speed up and get around him. ”

As Bill Engvall would say, “Here’s your sign!”

MEMORIAL DAY MEMORIES: CPhM JOHN JAMES McCARTY, USN (1915-1963)

2011-05-28T16:09:00.001-04:00

On this Memorial Day weekend, I am remembering some of the men who are my heroes. Number one on the list is my Dad, Chief Pharmacists Mate John J. McCarty, U.S. Navy.

Dad was born in Stanberry, Missouri, a small farming and railroad community in the northwest part of the State. He was the eldest of 11 children of James M. and Gertrude (Kurtright) McCarty.

Stanberry was where he became the man he was. In that dear little town, at my Grandmother’s knee and observing my Grandfather, he learned about duty, honor, integrity, and all the other essential characteristics that make up “a good man.” I suspect that until he was 25—with the exception of a tour with the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in Yellowstone National Park after high school— he was probably never further from Stanberry than a trip to Kansas City, eighty miles to the south. Like so many men who come from the heartland, he was never one to complain, one who did not have to be told to take the initiative to help a neighbor or a stranger, and one who instinctively loved our Country.

When I hear Garrison Keilor talk about Lake Woebegone, Minnesota (where “all the men are strong, all the women are good looking, and all the children are above average” ), described as “the little town that time forgot and memory cannot improve…”, I am transported to Stanberry. The extended McCarty clan was raised to know in our very marrow that, as my Uncle Charlie often declared, “All roads lead to Stanberry.” If home is truly where the heart is, then Stanberry is my home as it was his.

Now, contrary to current understanding, the Great Depression did not end in 1932. FDR did not wave a magic wand to end it, and the Country was still suffering from its effects as late as 1940. In that setting, on 2 July 1940, Dad joined the Navy and headed for U.S. Naval Training Center, Great Lakes, Illinois. He was paid $21 a month, and sent some of that home. His Uncle Jim Kurtright, a WWI Navy vet, counseled Dad to go Navy because “you’ll always have a warm rack, three squares a day, and no mud.” Alas, the best laid plans…

After completing boot camp, Dad was transferred to US Naval Hospital, San Diego for training as a Hospital Corpsman. He then reported to USS Relief (AH-1) in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii in late 1940. He remained in Relief, a hospital ship, and at sea until mid-November 1944—just shy of 48 straight months. She returned to the Atlantic Fleet in early 1941 via the Panama Canal and was anchored in Argentia Bay, New Foundland on that infamous Sunday afternoon in December 1941.

By the time Relief got back to the Pacific in early 1943, Dad was a Chief Pharmacists Mate and was the leading CPO (i.e., the senior chief petty officer) in a collecting and clearing company in Relief’s embarked hospital. Those companies would go ashore in the early waves of a landing to conduct triage and evacuate casualties requiring hospitalization to the ship. In that capacity, he landed at Tarawa, Kwajalien, Saipan, Tinian, and Pelelieu.

Although he was never wounded in action, he narrowly escaped injury when a Jap plane dropped a 500 pound dud between his landing craft and another carrying the rest of the company at Saipan. At Tinian, he was saved by his shipmate, Chief Raeder, from falling overboard and being crushed or drowned. Chief Raeder was a distant relative of Grand Admiral Erich Raeder who was Commander-in-Chief of the German Navy. A landing craft carrying wounded collided with the ship, tossing Dad into a stanchion and knocked him unconscious. He started to collapse overboard, but Chief Raeder grabbed him by his belt and pulled him back aboard one-handed.

Dad didn’t talk much about the war with us, although he would share sea stories with other vets. I do remember being impressed by an event shortly after we got our first TV in 1954. St. Louis had only two stations, and KWK was just starting up. They used a lot of WWII-oriented programming to fill their air-time, including Navy Log, which opened with the call to General Quarters—a bosun’s call and a gong. One night, my brother was excused from the supper table and went into the living room and turned on the TV, contrary to my parents’ rule, volume all the way up, just as that gong started. Dad jumped up from the table, sending his chair flying. He reached the door before he realized what was happening.

When Mom asked, “What in the name of Heaven are you doing?”, he replied simply, “I was going to my battle station.” It was that night that I first began to consider the Naval Service as a career.

Mom told me two other stories that reveal the effect on Dad of his war.

First, she said that from his return from the war in 1944 until his death in 1963, several times a month, he would wake up, screaming and drenched in sweat. When she got him refocused, he would apologize, saying only “I thought I was back at Pelelieu.” [NOTE: If you ever watch Victory At Sea (Episode 18 “TWO IF BY SEA: Peleliu and Angaur”), about mid-way through the episode, there is a shot of Relief and a one or two second clip of two Chiefs—one of whom I believe is Dad.]

Second, Mom and Dad married a couple of months after Pearl Harbor. They were both 26. (When he died at age 47, I can remember Mom saying, “I’ve been in love with him since 4th Grade”—the year that she moved to Stanberry. I can attest that that love never failed, even though she was a widow for twice as long as they were married.)

Relief came back to the States in November 1944 for overhaul. Dad was detached and transferred to the command that was establishing US Naval Hospital, Yosemite National Park in anticipation of millions of casualties from the invasion of Japan.

Mom and Dad were both 28, and that ol’ biological clock was a-tickin’. However, Dad refused Mom’s desire to start a family saying, “I won’t do that to you. When we invade Japan, they’ll send me back. I won’t come back from that one; I’ve used up all my luck. I won’t leave you a young widow with a baby.” [History will note that on 14 August 1945 (US time), the Japanese announced that they would accept the terms of the Potsdam Conference and would surrender unconditionally. I was born on 13 May 1946—exactly nine months later. It lends a whole new meaning to “VJ Day celebration!”]

About two months before Dad died, I was writing a term paper about Tarawa. I interviewed Dad, and got an A for using a primary source. His description of Tarawa in particular and the Pacific islands that he landed on in general was laconic and of the “I was there, but the real heroes were…..” genre. Still, I treasure that short conversation. I have often regretted that he did not live long enough for us to talk after I returned from Vietnam. It might have helped.

After his discharge in July 1946, he and Mom returned to Stanberry. We later moved to the St. Louis area where Dad was the assistant station manager for Eastern Airlines until his death.

Some of my earliest memories are of meeting at my Nana’s house, Mom's mother, on “Decoration Day, i.e., Memorial Day, to collect peonies to place on the graves of our war dead. The American Legion Post would then fire three volleys and Dad, the Post Bugler, would sound Taps. Things haven’t changed much: my cousin Kathy just e-mailed that she and her husband, Milton, had gone to High Ridge Cemetery to put flowers and a flag on Dad’s grave, among others. All roads do lead to Stanberry.

My Dad and Mom were truly great members of the “greatest generation.”

42 YEARS AGO TODAY

2011-05-27T22:25:00.000-04:00

The President of the United States
in the name of
The Congress
takes pride in presenting the
Medal of Honor (posthumously)
to
JIMMY WAYNE PHIPPS
Private First Class
United States Marine Corps

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty, as set forth in the following

Citation:
While serving as a combat engineer with Company B, 1st Engineer Battalion, 1st Marine Division on 27 May 1969 in connection with combat operations against the enemy, PFC Phipps was a member of a 2-man combat engineer demolition team assigned to locate and destroy enemy artillery ordnance and concealed firing devices. After he had expended all of his explosives and blasting caps, PFC Phipps discovered a 175mm high explosive artillery round in a rice paddy. Suspecting that the enemy had attached the artillery round to a secondary explosive device, he warned other Marines in the area to move to covered positions and prepared to destroy the round with a hand grenade. As he was attaching the hand grenade to a stake beside the artillery round, the fuse of the enemy's secondary explosive device ignited. Realizing that his assistant and the platoon commander were both within a few meters of him and that the imminent explosion could kill all 3 men, PFC Phipps grasped the hand grenade to his chest and dived forward to cover the enemy's explosive and the artillery round with his body, thereby shielding his companions from the detonation while absorbing the full and tremendous impact with his body. PFC Phipps' indomitable courage, inspiring initiative, and selfless devotion to duty saved the lives of 2 Marines and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the U.S. Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.

LEST WE FORGET: MEMORIAL DAY 2011

2011-05-26T19:08:00.002-04:00

American national holidays, with one exception, are celebrations. Christmas and Easter celebrate the birth and resurrection of our Lord and Savior. King Day celebrates Dr. King’s life and ministry. Presidents’ Day celebrates some presidents who deserve it and the rest, too. Independence Day celebrates just that. Labor and Veterans’ Days celebrate the hard work of all Americans and the service of those who took up the citizen’s greatest duty before returning to hearth and home. Thanksgiving Day celebrates and gives thanks for our bounty.

But one is different. Memorial Day is not a celebration as that word is understood today, although it is a celebration in the classic sense. It is the day on which we are supposed to stop and remember the men and women who, on far-flung battlefields, in fiery skies, and shell-splashed seas, gave all of their tomorrows for our today. They gave their everything that we could celebrate all the rest of the holidays.

Most of them were just kids. They had the same dreams that we did, but they never got to realize them. Instead, those dirty, tired, skinny men, pressed on into the cauldron of war. They did the job of giants, faithful to the end!

Some were the dog-faced infantry who stood and fought at Bunker Hill, Sharpsburg and Chickamauga, at San Juan Hill, at Chateau Thierry and the Marne. Some were gunners and pilots, high over Germany or Japan or Vietnam. Some were torpedomen and gunner’s mates and cooks and bakers on the 55 submarines “still on patrol.” Some were the Airborne who—to the everlasting glory of the infantry-- shivered and held at “the Bulge” or Rangers who “led the way” on the streets of Mogadishu. Most recently, they fell at Ramadi and in the cold mountains of Afghanistan.

A few were “Doc,” who died with them while ministering to their wounds at “bloody Omaha,” Iwo Jima, Chosin Reservoir and the Pusan perimeter. Others were “Padre,” such as Father Vincent Capodano, who died shielding a Marine with his body while praying with him.

And a fortunate few were Marines--riflemen-- God’s most magnificent creation. We are assured that, having served their time in the hell of Belleau Wood, Guadalcanal, Tarawa, the Reservoir, the Ashau Valley and the Arizona Territory , at the barracks in Beirut and in al Anbar, they are now on duty, guarding the streets of heaven until, in God’s good time, we are finally allowed to rejoin them. Semper Fideles!

Some still rest where they fell, while others made a final trip home to rest. Their gallantry and sacrifice ought be remembered every day, but it is not. So, on Monday, precisely at Noon, 21 minute guns will be fired on posts and stations across the world. Taps will be sounded, and at 1221, the flag will be once again two blocked after hanging at half-mast for the morning. And some of us, in our hearts and memories, will be with those men in those times.

I will ponder once again the beautiful words of Laurence Binyon’s To The Fallen:

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.

Lest we forget. (And the people respond “Lest we forget.”)

TRANSPARENCY, CHICAGO-STYLE

2011-05-14T20:05:00.002-04:00

While looking at POLITICO’s Arena for Saturday, May 14,I found an article that reports that “the White House is drafting an executive order that would require federal contractors to disclose political donations in exchange for doing business with the government.” According to the White House, this requirement will aid in “transparency”, something that did not bother the White House or the Congressional Democrats as they concocted their health care “reform” and the financial market “reform.” In those two instances, secrecy was the order of the day.

This smacks of the Chicago Strong Arm, a form of government with which the President, Chief of Staff Bill Daley, and former Chief of Staff Rahm Emmanuel are intimately familiar. My late first wife was from Chicago and I attended law school there. Watching the day-to-day shenanigans of Chicago politicians was the best contact sport around—no rules and beat the opponent bloody. I can think of nothing that would be more likely to lead to bribery and bid rigging than this. You either donate to the candidates that the President favors or your low bid is somehow lost.

Lest you think, “Oh, there he goes again,” such top level people in the President’s own party as House Minority Whip Steny Hoyer (D-Md) and Sen. Claire McCaskill (D-Mo.), who chairs the Subcommittee on Contracting Oversight, have opposed the plan.

This is dog that needs to go back to the kennel right now.

OBL SLEEPS WITH THE FISHES

2011-05-03T17:43:00.000-04:00

First, the good news: A raid force of 24 Navy SEALS penetrated deep into Pakistan, conducted a lightning raid on a fortified compound where they met armed resistance, overcame the enemy, and sent Osama bin Laden off to meet George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, James Monroe, James Madison, Robert E. Lee, Thomas J. Jackson and the other 64 Virginians he was promised. I’ll bet that was a fun meeting.

Now, the bad news. A lot of liberals are complaining. Maybe, just maybe, OBL did not have a weapon in hand when he grew a third eye. Oh, my. No one shouted for him to put his hands up. Oh dear. No one read him his rights. Oh darn. They shot too much: after the head shot, they double tapped him in the chest. Oh give me a break.

I wonder if the same cry babies who seem to think OBL was just another petty criminal would have been up in arms if Marshal Zhukov’s troops had put one between Hitler’s running lights?

The real problem, as I see it, is that a huge majority of Americans have never worn our nation’s uniform. They have never trained for man’s deadliest pastime—war. They have never been in a darkened building at zero dark thirty on a difficult mission surrounded by some nasty dudes who want to do them in and who have no qualms about shooting first. They don't know what it is like to be there.

So, bravo zulu, SEAL Team 6. Good shooting! As for the chest tap? Well, as Murphy’s rules of combat remind us, “anything worth shooting is worth shooting twice!”

“LIVING WITHIN OUR MEANS”: Some Ideas for the President and Congress (Part 1)

2011-04-21T15:27:00.000-04:00

Almost the first words out of the President’s mouth these days as he campaigns—sorry, educates the American people-- are “We need to start living within our means.”

Now, for you and me that usually means that we consider our income and adjust our spending accordingly. For the President, Harry Reid, and Sulkin’ Nancy Pelosi, it means “we decide what we want and then take more money from the people who worked for it and earned it to pay for what we want.” If you and I did that, we’d go to jail.

The Taking Trio always seems to talk about “savings over the next decade,” so here is one man’s alternative for cutting the budget over the next ten years. It will be long, so I’ll do it in parts.

Priority Item Number 1: Get rid of the Department of Education [Savings: $700 billion]

As of a couple of weeks ago, the 2011 budget for the Department of Education stood at $70 billion. This liberal Carter-era department was created by the then-Democratic Party controlled Congress to "establish policy for, administer and coordinate most federal assistance to education, collect data on US schools, and to enforce federal educational laws regarding privacy and civil rights.” The Department of Education does not establish schools or colleges, does not put any teachers in any schools, and does not teach a single child. Rather, the department's mission is “to promote student achievement and preparation for global competitiveness by fostering educational excellence and ensuring equal access.”

In other words the Department of Education shuffles paper, tells others what to do, hands out gobs of cash, collects data, reviews data, reports on data, shuffles more paper, duplicates some of the functions of the Department of Justice, and spends more cash. The only thing it does not do is educate.

My undergraduate education was at Illinois State University (nee Illinois State Normal University) which had just been renamed after over a century. I received a BS in Education with a certificate to teach social sciences. At dear old Normal, we had a saying: “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. Those who can’t teach teach others to teach.” It was tongue in cheek and at the time (1964-68), ISU was still one of the premier teacher training universities in America. But there is a kernel of truth there.

The further removed from any endeavor one is, the less likely he or she is to know what is going on. Our ancestors recognized this. Perhaps the major achievement of the Continental Congress under the Articles of Confederation (other than demonstrating the ineffectiveness of the Articles of Confederation) was the adoption of the Land Ordinance of 1785 and the Northwest Ordinance in 1787.

We still see the effects of those import early laws today. Anyone who has flown over the mid-western and western United States, especially over farm country, has seen the checkerboard pattern of one-mile square “sections” of land. The land ordinance established the basis for the Public Land Survey System. Land was to be systematically surveyed into square townships, six miles on a side. Each of these townships was sub-divided into thirty-six sections of one square mile or 640 acres. In my high school days when we had a year-long Civics class, we learned to read a map and to find a quarter-quarter section (40 acres) based on township and range lines, e.g., “NW quarter-quarter Section of the SE quarter Section, Section 13, Township 4 North, Range 7 East.”

“But what,” you may ask, “has this to do with education?” A good question that bespeaks the failure of your early education.

The land ordinance also created a mechanism for funding public education. Section 16 in each township was reserved for the maintenance of public schools. Schools could be located in section sixteen of their respective townships, or the school section could be sold or rented support public education. And education was a local responsibility thereafter. Later, in the Oregon Territory Act of 1848, an additional section, section 36 of each township, was likewise set aside to support public education.

The point is this: unpaid elected local school boards ran the schools, hired the teachers and oversaw the curriculum necessary to properly educate the children of the community. Real estate taxes were levied to provide additional support. Because the people of the locality had to be convinced that any tax increases were necessary to a proper education of their children, there was an intense interest in education.

The earliest state colleges, pre-dating the Morrill land grant act of 1862, were established by the states to meet the State’s needs for teachers and to apply scientific principles to farming, e.g., Illinois State Normal (1857) and Pennsylvania State University (1855).

Control was at the appropriate level: elementary and secondary schools at the local level and state colleges and universities at the state level.

That is a far cry from the modern model. For instance, the 5,000 employees of the Department of Education have these functions per Department publications. I have added my own definitions, for what they are worth.

Office of the Secretary
• Chief of Staff, i.e., the Secretary’s hatchet man
• Chief Operating Officer, i.e., someone to oversee the Under-Secretary of Education
• Office of Inspector General, i.e., internal snoops
• Office of Communications and Outreach (OCO) , i.e., public relations
• Office of the General Counsel (OGC), i.e., lawyers
• Office of Legislation and Congressional Affairs (OLCA), i.e., keeping Congress happy
• Office for Civil Rights (OCR), i.e., more lawyers, duplicating the Department of Justice

You will note that so far, not a bit of education is occurring. Let us continue.

• Institute of Education Sciences (IES), i.e., a bureaucratic office to supervise other bureaucrats
o National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), i.e., a bureaucratic office to create and mandate reports that will justify their continued existence
 National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP), ), i.e., a bureaucratic office to read those reports
 Education Resources Information Center (ERIC), ), i.e., a tall blond guy who …, oh, wait, a bureaucratic office to go back and tell the local people who had to write the reports what they meant.
• Office of Innovation and Improvement (OII), i.e., those who can’t teach teach others to teach
• Office of the Chief Financial Officer, i.e., the bureaucrat who makes sure every penny collected from the taxpayers goes where the Department wants it to go rather than being spent where it came from
• Office of Management, i.e., a bureaucratic office to oversee the other bureaucrats
• Office of the Chief Information Officer, i.e., a bureaucratic office to buy and use computers to figure out whether computers would be better used in classrooms
• Office of Planning, Evaluation and Policy Development, —who really knows??
o Budget Service, ), i.e., a bureaucratic office to create and justify getting a bigger slice of the public pie
• Risk Management Service, i.e., an insurance office. Why? I don’t know, he’s on third, and I don’t give a darn…..

Chief Operating Officer

Office of the Under Secretary (OUS),
• Office of Post secondary Education (OPE), i.e., college is now a federal function
• Office of Vocational and Adult Education (OVAE), i.e., so is vocational and adult education
o Office of Federal Student Aid (FSA), i.e., a bureaucratic office to use my money to send other people’s kids to college
• President's Advisory Board on Tribal Colleges and Universities (WHITCU)’ i.e., a place to stash campaign donors
• President's Advisory Board on Historically Black Colleges and Universities (WHIHBCU) (same)

You catch my drift? I’ll leave it at that, but here is the rest.

Office of the Deputy Secretary (ODS)
• Office of Elementary and Secondary Education (OESE)
o Office of Migrant Education (OME)
o Student Achievement and School Accountability Programs (SASA)
o President's Advisory Commission on Educational Excellence for Hispanic Americans
• Office of English Language Acquisition, Language Enhancement and Academic Achievement for Limited English Proficient Students (OELA)
• Office of Special Education and Rehabilitative Services (OSERS)
o National Institute on Disability and Rehabilitation Research (NIDRR)
o Office of Special Education Programs (OSEP)
o Rehabilitation Services Administration (RSA)
• Office of Safe and Drug Free Schools (OSDFS)
• Office of Innovation and Improvement

Associated federal organizations
• Advisory Councils and Committees
• National Assessment Governing Board (NAGB)
• National Institute for Literacy (NIFL)

Federal Interagency Committee on Education, i.e., bureaucrats talking to bureaucrats on our dime

Note that not a single one of these goes into the classroom. In fact, most are either redistributing money or wasting real educators’ time by demanding reports that can be used to justify the bureaucratic existence and to redistribute the money that locals could more efficiently use.

So, here it is, Mr. President. Close it down and in ten years, you’ll have realized a $700 billion savings. And because a lot of those 5,000 folks have education degrees, you can also help put more teachers in the classroom—if the local school boards want to hire them.

SKI: A SQUARED-AWAY NORTH AMERICAN BLUEJACKET

2011-04-20T09:14:00.000-04:00

Readers Digest used to have a monthly feature entitled “My Most Unforgettable Character.” I have many in my life, but there is one who I met for less than an hour and whose name I never learned, only his wartime Navy nickname: “Ski.”

It was in the late summer of 1979. I was stationed in Chicago while attending law school on the Excess Leave Program. My wife was hosting a Sunday afternoon wedding or baby shower and I was tasked with getting the boys, then aged 8 and 6, out of the house. In that morning’s paper, I had seen a blurb announcing that USS Silversides, a WWII submarine undergoing renovation as a memorial, was holding tours at 3:00 pm each Sunday. The boys and I headed for Navy Pier.

To understand the rest of this story, it is necessary to learn just a little about USS Silversides. (Historical Note: Submarines are traditionally referred to as “boats” rather than “ships”.)

USS Silversides (SS-236) is a Gato-class boat, named for the silversides, a small fish marked with a silvery stripe along each side of its body. She was launched on 26 August 1941 and commissioned on 15 December 1941, eight days after the Jap attack on Pearl Harbor. Silversides made 14 war patrols in the Pacific, received twelve battle stars for World War II service, and was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation. She is credited with sinking 23 ships, the third-most of any allied World War II submarine, behind only the USS Tang and USS Tautog. The tonnage of the ships sunk by Silversides amounted to 90,080 tons, second only to the Tang's total. Judged by such standards, Silversides has the most prolific combat record of any still-extant American submarine.

[Historical Note: Tang’s records are truly amazing when one considers that she made only five war patrols before she was lost. USS Tang (SS-306), a Balao-class boat was built and launched in 1943 and was sunk by one of her own torpedos on her fifth war patrol, after only 10 months of service. Nonetheless, Tang sank 31 ships displacing 227,800 tons, a record unequaled by any American submarine before or since. Her commanding officer, LCdr Richard H. O'Kane, USN, received the Medal of Honor for her last two engagements (October 23, 1944 and October 24, 1944). Commander O’Kane had learned his trade in Wahoo as XO under the legendary Mush Morton.

USS Tautog (SS-199), a Tambor-class boat, was credited with sinking 26 Japanese ships, for a total of 72,606 tons.]

Silversides was a lucky boat. She lost only one of her sailors during the war. On 10 May 1942, just after 0800, she engaged a Japanese gunboat in a 75 minute surface action. Firing her 3 inch deck gun, she heavily damaged the enemy vessel. During this action, one of her deck gunners, Torpedoman’s Mate 3 Mike Harbin, was killed in action by enemy machine gun fire. The only man lost in action aboard Silversides during World War II, Petty Officer Harbin was buried at sea later that evening.

On 17 December 1942, Silversides departed Brisbane, Australia on her fourth war patrol. On the night of Christmas Eve, the submarine's pharmacist's mate, PhM1 Thomas Moore, informed the Captain that Fireman Second Class George Platter was suffering from appendicitis. There was no way to get Petty Officer Platter to a medical facility. As the only medically trained member of the crew (submarines did not rate having a ship’s surgeon), “Doc” Platter performed a successful emergency appendectomy on FM2 Platter using the wardroom table as an operating table, ether as anesthesia and a tea strainer as the mask, and rudimentary “surgical instruments” primarily fashioned by the ships motor machinists mates from galley utensils. The operation was over early on Christmas morning, and FM2 Platter was standing watches within 6 days.

After the war, Silversides was decommissioned and placed in reserve as a training ship for naval reservists at Chicago, Illinois. On 30 June 1969 her name was struck from the Naval Vessel Register.
The City of Chicago acquired the boat with the intention of using her as a war memorial. On 24 May 1973, Silversides became a part of the Combined Great Lakes Navy Association in Chicago and was moored behind Chicago's Naval Armory. She was moved to Navy Pier in 1979. [She is now permanently berthed at Muskegon, Michigan.]

Now, at the time the boys and I visited, she had just moved to Navy Pier where she was tended by a small crew of dedicated volunteers. Several of the active duty sailors assigned to Naval Reserve Center, Chicago to train the reservists were actually living aboard the boat.

We walked out along the pier and joined the other 12 or so people who had mustered on the forward deck at the forward torpedo loading hatch. Two active duty (but on liberty) sailors were guiding the tour. A coffee can was passed for donations and the tour was about to begin when we heard a shout from the pier.

“Ahoy, the boat. Hold the tour.” Two couples were walking down the pier. They were in their 60s, the men wearing aloha shirts and khakis and the ladies in sun dresses. They hurried up the brow and joined the tour.

A flight of wooden stairs had been built to allow people to enter the boat through the forward torpedo room. I held the boys back to keep them from being stepped on. We were right behind the foursome.

As the guide explained the layout of the torpedo room (“ten 21-inch torpedo tubes--six forward, four aft--with a wartime load of 24 torpedoes…”), and the berthing arrangement of the torpedo room in which bunks were literally atop the spare torpedoes, one of the men whispered to his friend, “that was my buddy, Tex’s bunk” pointing to one of the bunks and shaking his head. “He was transferred to Harder and is still on patrol.”

Oh, wow, I thought. This is something to remember. I decided to stick close to the two men.

As the tour continued and we moved aft through officer’s country, beneath which was the forward battery room, the “old guy” continued to regale his friend with his stories of the daily life of a submariner. We looked into the wardroom (the officers dining room which is just a bit larger than a large booth in a modern restaurant), we heard of the famous appendectomy. We next moved into the control room, beneath the conning tower, the warfighting center of the boat. From here on her tenth war patrol, she sank 6 enemy ships. And then it happened…..

The old guy pointed aft to what appeared to be a telephone booth. “That was my battle station, the radio room.” Oh, yeah, he’s a Silversides sailor! Then, pointing to a large fitting in the overhead, he said “That’s where this happened.” He held up his right hand to show the ring and little fingers were missing above the large knuckle.

“What happened,” his buddy asked?

“Oh, we were diving and that valve opened. I went to close it and caught my fingers in it. I got it closed, but . . . Anyway, they took me to sickbay, that bunk right there (pointing to a single bunk), and Doc bandaged me up. Then the skipper,Cap’n Coye, he came back and said ‘Well done, Ski, you saved my boat.’ Can you imagine that? The skipper himself said that to me.”

Well, yeah, I can, Ski. I mean, you saved his boat.

The tour moved aft, through the crew’s quarters, the galley, the engine rooms and maneuvering room to the after torpedo room. The guides gave a summing up, listing Silversides’ many accomplishments, and directing folks to the wooden stairs that led topside through the after torpedo loading hatch. Once again, I held the boys back to avoid the rush.

The two old guys had stepped away and I was behind their wives. One woman sighed impatiently. “Gawd. I need a cigarette. How long have we been down here?”

“About 45 minutes,” I offered.

“How long were they down here,” the other woman asked?

“Sixty to seventy-five days,” I replied.

“Gawd,” the first woman repeated.

“Excuse me ladies, but is one of you married to ‘Ski’? Did he serve in Silversides?”

“Oh, that’s my husband,” the first woman answered. “These are our friends who have been visiting us from Iowa. We live in Centralia and this morning my husband just up and said ‘we ought to take them up and show them the boat.’ The boat, the boat, the boat. That’s all he ever talks about. The boat, the boat, the boat.”

Well, sure he does. I mean, damn! He saved the boat!

The crowd had gone and she and her friend started topside, followed by the Iowan husband. I started the boys up.

As I looked back, there was Ski, all by himself, leaning on one of the after torpedo tubes. He was looking forward the length of the boat through the open watertight doors. There were tears on his cheeks and I knew that he was seeing things we could only—imperfectly—imagine.

And for a minute, he looked 20. I’ll never forget him.

IT’S TIME FOR THE “BIRTHERS” TO GO HOME

2011-04-19T19:59:00.000-04:00

I don’t know if the President was born within the United States or its territories or not. I also don’t care. Has anyone suggested that his mother was not a US citizen at the time of his birth? Every year countless US citizens are born abroad, the children of US citizens who happen to be outside the United States. My eldest son is one such child, born in the Republic of the Philippines while I was stationed there in the Marine Corps. Is he constitutionally eligible to be President. Under the principle of jus sanguinis, there is no doubt! Likewise Barack Obama.

So, instead of wasting a lot of time on an hysterically irrelevant argument over the geography of the President’s birth, go after him for his policies. Lord knows, there is plenty of ammunition for that fight.

But the birthers have had their 15 minutes of fame. It is time for them to go home.

SORRY MR. PRESIDENT. IT JUST WON’T DO.

2011-04-13T21:41:00.000-04:00

For anyone listening to the President’s budget speech today, there must have been at least one “huh?” moment. Mine was when he said “We must live within our means.” His idea of “living within ones means” differs from the rest of us, because his prescription for doing so would, if we tried it, land us in jail.

If I say to my family, “Listen, we have to learn to live within our means,” it means that we have to reduce spending. Period. But in the President’s world, it means that we can keep on spending and just take the money we need from others.

He wants more taxes. In his world, his decision to agree that taxes on income above $200,000 ($250,000 for married couples) would not be increased is a “tax cut”. He says that he had to make that agreement so that taxes on income under that level would not increase. So what is a tax increase for some people becomes a tax cut for others. Only in the delusional world of Democratic party politics does that make sense.

But to return to my dilemma. When I say to my family that we must live within our means, I do not have the option of saying “But don’t worry, we can keep on spending. I’ll just stick up Mr. Warbucks for the rest.” The President can take your money and mine and spend it on his desires, even if they are not our desires.

Be honest and say that, Mr. President. Don’t try to con us with false analogies.

WHININ' HARRY REID

2011-04-08T15:13:00.000-04:00

I don’t know about you, but I have had it up to here with “Whinin” Harry Reid.

In January 2009, Reid and his kindred spirit in the House, Nancy Pelosi, were heard repeatedly telling us that “elections have consequences. Promising a transparent legislature, they shepherded two massive bills through the Congress that most members admitted they had never read. When the American people let it be known that they did not care for Obamacare, Whinin' Harry and his side kick responded that the people had elected a Democratic Party majority in both houses and “elections have consequences.” The bills were rammed through.

Of course, what their majorities did not do was to carry out the people’s business. So fixated were they on health care “reform” and financial “reform”, they failed to adopt a budget for 2011. Deeming it too politically dangerous, they opted for continuing resolutions, even after FY11 kicked in. And then came November…

The Republican majority in the House took up its responsibility to adopt a budget for 2011. Whinin' Harry and Nancy and their ilk do not like that budget. The folks who completely ignored the minority during the health care circus now demand that they keep control. Reid saw his majority cut from 59 to 52, and Pelosi was dumped onto the ash heap of history.

So, what’s a congress to do?

Whine and moan, apparently. And it is that sanctimonious whining that makes me sick. All of a sudden, legislative riders are not acceptable. (Now, for the record, I wish the Framers of 1787 had adopted the provision that was later incorporated in the Constitution of the Confederate States of America: “Every law, or resolution having the force of law, shall relate to but one subject, and that shall be expressed in the title.” Const, Art I, sec 20. I.e., no riders. But they didn’t, and Harry and Nancy made good use of them.)

“We’re happy to debate these, but on a legislative vehicle, not a spending vehicle,” Reid said Thursday.

But in 2009, Whinin' Harry and Nancy plastered many such “legislative” riders onto a government-funding bill similar to the one now being negotiated. Apropos the current standoff, the Democrats gave money and power to Planned Parenthood and other family-planning clinics. In fact, they did it twice, starting with a rider to an emergency supplemental spending bill to fund the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, clearly expressing their concern with women’s health. In the same funding bill, they relaxed restrictions on travel to Cuba, implemented taxpayer-funded health benefits for the same-sex partners of federal employees, blocked the expenditure of funds for the development of the Yucca Mountain nuclear waste storage site in—drum roll, please—Nevada, and repealed a school-voucher program in the District of Columbia.

So, its OK for Whinin' Harry to use riders on a budget bill when it is his rider!

Sorry, Harry, but elections have consequences. Live with it and get to work for the people.

FOLLY ON THE POTOMAC

2011-04-06T09:35:00.001-04:00

I listened yesterday as the President intentionally misled the press and to the American people. To protect his base, he criticized the Republican majority in the House for “wasting time” on the 2011 budget when FY 11 was already half over.

He has no one to blame but himself and his party. By law, proposed FY 2011 were supposed to be offered up by the House, the Senate and the White House by April 2010, a year ago, a time when the Democratic party controlled both houses of Congress and the White House. None of the three offered up a proposal.

As most people know, the Democrats failed to do so because they were still fixated on passing Obamacare and they knew that any budget they offered would be so politically poisonous that they tried to put it off until after the November elections. Instead, Pelosi, Reed and Obama punted.

Well, Paul Ryan has offered up a 2012 budget for the House and the President says it will be heartily debated. Good. That is also what was supposed to happen last year, but for reasons of political expediency, it did not. To hear Democrats criticize the House majority for simply trying to do what their own party failed to do last year is distressing.

It is time for the President to man up and tell the whole truth.

THE SLEEPER AWAKES

2011-02-25T19:01:00.000-05:00

I feel a little like Rip Van Winkle. Last Fall, after I recuperated from shoulder surgery, I planned to get back into blogging on a regular basis.

“Hah,” said Fate.

My Dell laptop developed an ultimately fatal disease. The battery died, Ava ate the recharger, and then the elf-thingy in the computer refused to allow any strange power cords to power up the machine. (Unlike those computer geeky people who talk about those apocryphal bits ‘n bytes ‘n mother boards ‘n such, I actually know what makes computers work. It’s black magic and the elfs put the magic in exactly the wrong place at the right time!)

At any rate, I just couldn’t get motivated to get a new laptop. Like many depressed people, I get a little down during the holidays and the dark days of winter. When “Jingle Bells” or Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” inevitably takes you back to An Hoa on Christmas Eve, 1968, the slump gets a little lower.

But I am finally getting back in battery. I went HP this time, and I’m happy so far. It has survived one road trip to Tampa last week where I spoiled the grandkids while Molson (now a Lieutenant Colonel, USAF) made a short jaunt to the sand box.

Next Tuesday, my computer and I set off for Phoenix, via St. Louis, for a special time with my sister and brother in law. More about that in a week or so.

Many thanks to the folks who have expressed their concerns and offered their prayers. The road back is longer and steeper than I had imagined, but I’m on my way.

LIES, DAMNED LIES, AND STATISTICS

2010-10-08T09:15:00.000-04:00

The apocryphal statement that there are three types of falsehood—lies, damned lies, and statistics—may once again be proved in today's Department of Labor report on employment figures for September. DOL says that employment “edged down” with a loss of 95,000 non-farm jobs, but the percentage remained unchanged at 9.6%. The White House desperately wants some positive number to use in the run up to the November elections, and any molding of the numbers that can help get the desired result will be warmly received.

Since last Spring, the numbers have been inflated by the addition of hundreds of thousands of temporary census workers. As many of those as possible were kept on the rolls for as long as possible. For the first time I can remember, I had visits from multiple census workers, each asking me to confirm the exact information I had mailed in April. I’m glad these folks had “jobs,” but I wish they had been producing something more than favorable numbers for the Democratic Party to use in their press releases. The last of those jobs ended in September.

But there are still ways to cook the books. In New York, folks who were “employed” for two days—as poll workers in the primary elections—are now being counted as employed in September.

“How,” you ask?

In September, the New York City Board of Elections refused to hire any poll workers—previously deemed to be independent contractors—until they filled out IRS forms that would then make them reportable as “employed.” Tens of thousands of poll workers were then in place to be counted by DOL which collects its numbers during the week in which the election was conducted.

But, as the Gallup organization reported, “. . . monitoring of job market conditions suggests that there was a sharp increase in the unemployment rate during the last couple of weeks of September.” Read the full report here. Gallup reports that the true unemployment figure for September is probably closer to 10.1%, rather than the 9.6% reported by the DOL today.

The October numbers will not be reported until after the November 2 mid-term elections. I expect that Robert Gibbs will trumpet this report as just another sign that the President’s “plan” is working. Lies, damned lies, and statistics, indeed.

I'LL BE OFF THE NET. . .

2010-09-20T08:13:00.000-04:00

. . . but just while I recuperate from shoulder surgery. See you on the back sided.

FLAG BURNERS BEWARE!

2010-09-14T18:44:00.001-04:00

Since at least the mid-1960’s, the liberal left has taken for granted that certain acts, e.g., burning an American flag, during a protest are “protected speech” under the First Amendment to the Constitution.

In the past few weeks, however, the loony left has gone berserk over the possibility that a pastor in Florida might burn a Koran. To do something so disrespectful of a another culture runs contrary to their views of diversity and apparently cannot have First Amendment ramifications. The President, the Secretaries of Defense and State, and General David Petraeus, Commander, International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) and Commander, U.S. Forces Afghanistan (USFOR-A), either spoke to or otherwise directed comments to this lone citizen, asserting in language that is eerily reminiscent of the Espionage Act of 1917, that he was endangering US troops. The pastor was even allowed to have coffee with a bunch of FBI agents who dropped in at the behest of the Attorney General.

Ever since now-Vice President Biden took to task Judge Robert Bork for his scholarly writing, asserting that his comments in such writings disqualified him for confirmation as an Associate Justice of the Supreme, candidates for the Court have asserted a “principle” that candidates and serving Justices ought not comment on cases that might come before the Court. They routinely do so in order to avoid being “borked” by the Senate.

In a recent interviewwith ABC's George Stephanopolous, Associate Justice Stephen Breyer, appears to have departed from that principle. Breyer, a Clinton appointee to the Supreme Court, said that it is likely that the First Amendment to the Constitution does not protect persons from being arrested and tried for burning the Koran. In so doing, he misquotes one of the landmark decisions of the Supreme Court, Schenck v. United States, 249 U.S. 47 (1919).

Schenck was the Secretary of the Socialist Party during World War I. A “war protester”, he had printed and then distributed or mailed 15,000 leaflets to men eligible for the draft. The leaflets advocated opposition to the draft. They suggested that the draft was identical to slavery, outlawed by the 13th Amendment, and contained statements such as: "Do not submit to intimidation", "Assert your rights", "If you do not assert and support your rights, you are helping to deny or disparage rights which it is the solemn duty of all citizens and residents of the United States to retain." 249 U. S. at 51.

Schenck was tried under the Espionage Act of 1917 which prohibited any attempt to interfere with military operations, to support America's enemies during wartime, to promote insubordination in the military, or to interfere with military recruitment. He was convicted and sentenced to six months in prison.

On appeal, Schenck asserted, inter alia, that his actions were protected by the free speech clause of the First Amendment. Writing for a unanimous Court, Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., a Civil War veteran, wrote that “when a nation is at war many things that might be said in time of peace are such a hindrance to its effort that their utterance will not be endured so long as men fight, and that no Court could regard them as protected by any constitutional right." 249 US at 52.

Because Schenck was later watered down in a series of cases, including Brandenburg v. Ohio, 395 U.S. 444 (1969)(government cannot punish inflammatory speech unless it is directed to inciting and likely to incite imminent lawless action), it is primarily remembered for the quote that Breyer botched.

Justice Holmes wrote that "the most stringent protection of free speech would not protect a man in falsely shouting fire in a theatre and causing a panic." 249 US at 52 (emphasis added). The resulting test announced by the Court was stated thusly: “The question in every case is whether the words used are used in such circumstances and are of such a nature as to create a clear and present danger that they will bring about the substantive evils that Congress has a right to prevent. It is a question of proximity and degree.” Id. (emphasis added).

So Breyer—and this is surprising for a man of his judicial experience and intellect—left out an important word. If the theater is, in fact, burning, it is quite permissible to shout “fire.”

In the interview, Breyer suggested that any “speech”, which now apparently includes burning some books or flags or ROTC buildings, can be suppressed if it would upset people in other parts of the world. (Stephanopolous posed his question on the ability of modern media to instantaneously spread around the globe the happenings in a kooky little congregation in Florida.)

So, protesters beware. It looks as if Breyer, for one, would return to Schenck and might allow prosecutions under the Espionage Act of 1917 for acts that would impede military operations or give support to America’s enemies during wartime (something that the President who appointed him had fun doing while your reporter was getting shot at on a daily basis). At least one man in the current government recognizes that Iraq and Afghanistan are wars!

Justice Breyer, can you spell "recusal"?

LEST WE FORGET

2010-09-11T17:53:00.002-04:00

Today marks the ninth anniversary of the attack on America by radical Islam. Not all Muslims, mind you, but the attack was conceived, planned, executed and celebrated by huge numbers of Muslims around the world.

Now I don’t hold with burning books, whether they be Christian Bibles burned by Hamas (an Islamic theocracy)or by the American government. Likewise, I don’t agree with burning works of philosophy such as the Koran, Mao's Little Red Book, or Mein Kampf. They may be of great interest to historians, students of comparative theology, and political scientists, and should be preserved for study. Just because I don’t think a book has any application to my life does not require me to seek its destruction. The destruction of the written word is dangerous, because it is the first tumble down a slippery slope.

So the morons in Kansas and Florida who have decided that a book burning is really good way to spend a Saturday, should be ignored, not raised to international stature. But the useful idiots who loudly attempt to separate Islam from the attack should be equally ignored.

There is an entire stream of Islam, not just a few isolated, theologically ignorant dopes, that intends to do us in and impose their theocracy upon us. Anyone who thinks differently is living in Fantasy Land.

IS SOLA SCRIPTURA DEAD?

2010-09-07T14:28:00.010-04:00

Jody Harrington is a Presbyterian Church (USA) Ruling Elder and former Moderator the PC(USA)’s New Covenant Presbytery, located in south Texas. She is the author of a nationally known blog, Quotidian Grace. For any who have never read Jody’s thoughtful and entertaining blog—where she covers everything from dogs and Texas recipes to deep theological discussion and trenchant book reviews—I suggest that you give her a read. You’ll be hooked within a few sentences. (She is also running for the “Mom of Congress.” They need one! See her platform on her blog page.)

A few weeks ago, she wrote a blog entry entitled Sola Kerfuffle, where she reported that

The newly-installed Vice Moderator of the PCUSA, Landon Whitsett, was recently quoted in an interview saying:

Sola Scriptura is dead most places and dying rapidly in others. So where do we lodge the authority of our faith? That's the real battle we see fought in the church.

For those of you who are not Reformation scholars, the "Five Solas" are five Latin phrases that summarize the theological distinctions between the Protestant Reformers and the Roman Catholic Church of the Reformation era.

They are:
Sola Scriptura (by scripture alone)
Sola fide (by faith alone)
Sola gratia (by grace alone)
Solus Christus (through Christ alone)
Soli Deo Gloria (Glory to God alone)

One of Jody's readers, Jessi commented on Sola Kerfuffle with a really good, succinct explanation of the five solas. She said

They are explaining different aspects of salvation.

Who/what is the authority on knowing God and having salvation: Scripture alone. (We can't add/subtract from it.)

How do we come to have salvation: Faith alone. (Faith, and not works.)

How does one acquire faith: Grace alone. (For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God. Eph 2:8)

What/who is the object of our faith: Christ alone!

Why: For God's glory alone, [which] means that God's own glory is why he chose to create us and then save us!! It is nothing in us, but his love for us. It is not me being kind, so God grants me faith through grace. No, grace is unmerited!!! I did nothing. I wasn't nice, I was mean. I was God's enemy!! But it brings him glory to make beauty out of rubble. I was worthless. I did not earn his love. "He loved us while we were yet sinners!"

Since we have lost a lot of the history with the solas, and other truths discovered during the reformation, I thought I should explain the God's glory part. Not that it'd be wrong for God to be interested in glorifying himself--he is God--but that is not exactly what Glory alone means. It means that we bring glory to God when we come to him--but not because we are these glorious creatures. Rather it's because it shows what God does with sinful man!!

In Sola Kerfuffle, QG (as she is affectionately known in the blogosphere) commented, probably correctly, that many (most?) Ruling Elders in the PC(USA) today might not know about the Five Solas. She recommended that they be included in elder training, a wonderful idea in my opinion. And in the Sunday School curriculum, too.

This morning, she followed up with a new blog, Sola Kerfuffle: The Podcast with the Moderators!

She reports that she was contacted by GA Moderator Cynthia Bolbach, who asked her to participate with Rev. Whitsett and Moderator Bolbach in a podcast discussion about the authority of Scripture. The podcast can be found here.

I listened to the discussion with fascination. If I understood Rev. Whitsett correctly, I am glad that God led us out of the PC(USA) and to our new home in the EPC. If I understood him correctly, his position is central to the troubles that continue to afflict the PC(USA), a denomination that many of us feel has lost its bearings.

I’ll start with one picky little comment about the format. I noticed that the podcast did not open with prayer. In the EPC, frequent prayer is an integral part of every meeting. In the GA, the Committee reports are invariably shorter than the prayers that mark the start of each such report. As a result, I have seen that opening with prayer in even the smallest, most informal endeavors adds to the discussions that follow.

Rev. Whitsett spoke first. He “likes”, even “reveres” the Bible, but cannot say what is its “level of authority.” He is “tired of hearing people use Scripture as a trump card.” I think I heard him say that the Bible is not the Word of God—only Jesus can claim that title.

True, he conceded that the only way to find out about Jesus is to go to Scripture, but Scripture “is not a foundational truth.” He implied that Scripture needs to be interpreted in a context, PC(USA)-speak for “we are oh so much smarter than those 1st Century fishermen and peasants.” Because he is unsure of what level of authority the Bible has, he suggests that we should also consider “history and traditions” to make Scripture “fit into the community.”

That’s a problem: The Reformation came about because the Roman Catholic Church had allowed man-made stuff to become co-equal to, or even trump, Scripture, hence the Reformation adoption of Sola Scriptura.

Moreover, that is exactly why many of us had to leave the PC(USA): we were told that when reading the Bible, we should “listen for the Word of God” (maybe it is there, maybe not) rather than “listen to the Word of God.” We were condemned for being too conservative rather than bending the Word to the world. We were told that sin is an out-moded concept and just because some sins are now acceptable in our “community,” i.e., adultery, homosexual practice, and perjury, we were bigots for insisting that sin is sin.

QG stood her ground. She was “troubled” by Rev. Whitsett’s opening remarks. She rightly said that we must struggle with Scripture to understand it. She agreed that simple proof-texting is not enough, but said that we must do the really hard work of delving into and prayerfully immersing ourselves in Scripture in order to understand God’s will for us.

I suggest that we often avoid that struggle because we know that the result of our study may, and probably will, lead us to do things that God wants, but we don’t.

A Time For Every Purpose Under Heaven, the report of the NWAC Strategy Team to the New Wineskins Association of Churches,identified two faithful options for members of the PC(USA)struggling with the drift of the PC(USA)'s national leadership. When Rev. Dr. Rick Wolling and I wrote the introductory chapter of that report, we summarized the findings in this way:

•Those who were called by God to leave the PC(USA) could faithfully do so.

•Those who were called by God “stay where they are and be a prophetic witness” and “to strive to reform, renew and repair the old homestead so that it can once again be a vibrant and welcoming lodging for those who are lost and hungry for the Word” could also do so faithfully.

We said one other thing: “That being said, we implore all to whom this report shall come: there must be a new thing, wherever it may occur. To simply stand fast. . .” is not a faithful option. See A Time For Every Purpose Under Heaven at pp 15-16.

QG is clearly a prophetic witness. I envision her, toolbelt strapped in place, hammering and sawing and painting at the old home place.

We who left the PC(USA) felt that no one in the presbyteries and the GA were listening to us. In taking on the role of a spokesperson for the many in the PC(USA) who feel that they are never heard, QG has once again witnessed to the power of the servant-leader.

Bravo Zulu, QG.

LET THE GAMES BEGIN

2010-09-05T16:07:00.001-04:00

Labor Day has traditionally marked the beginning America’s oldest full-contact sport season. Election Day 2010 is now 56 days and a wake up away. And what a season it looks to be, reminiscent of the Roman Coliseum in its heyday. There will be sacrificial rites, comedic plays, and enough blood and gore to satisfy the hardest cynic.

First, the Democratic Party, having nearly bankrupted the Country, finally sees the wolves (or as many call them, the electorate) nipping at their heels. Hoping to save the hides of their leadership, the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee intends to toss many of its own from the chariot. Members of the caucus who polls and “other data” show are about to be trounced because of their support for Pelosi and Reid will be abandoned. As reported here, they refer to their actions as “triage.” That’s what happens when Representatives in Congress forget just who it is that they are representing.

In one entertaining ad run by Representative Stephanie Herseth Sandlin (D-S.D.), she compares Congress to her toddler. They are messy eaters who need potty training, have no concept of money, and “don’t listen.” Then she runs away from her party, reminding South Dakotans that she voted against Obamacare and the bailouts. We’ll see if that works, because the Chair of the DNC says any Democrat who denies President Barack Obama, Nancy Pelosi or Harry Reid is “foolish.”

As reported here, Democratic National Committee Chairman Tim Kaine has a message for Democrats trying to run from President Barack Obama, Nancy Pelosi or Harry Reid.

"If you run away from who you are and you're a Democrat, it's foolish," Kaine said on "Fox News Sunday." "It's foolish because you've got a lot to be proud of." All that is missing is a cock crowing in the distance.

Now Party discipline is a necessary vice, but the chief disciplinarian needs to watch his own metaphors. A Gallup Poll released last week puts the Democratic Party 10 points down in a “generic ballot.” The so-called "Summer of Recovery" has been a bust, with a net loss of over a quarter of a million jobs. But Kaine doesn’t see it that way. "Here's what I say: We are climbing out of attic (sic), we are climbing out ... and the Democrats have built the ladder."

The last time I checked, climbing out of an attic was a downward trip. Maybe Tim needs to be triaged.

AN HISTORIC MONTH

2010-09-03T14:40:00.002-04:00

This will be an historic month for our church—Forks of the Brandywine Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Glen Moore, Pennsylvania. On September 17, we celebrate the 275th anniversary of the founding of the congregation. Our fourth building, erected in 1875, is located on the same land—purchased from William Penn’s sons--as the very first log sanctuary. There are 13 veterans of the Revolutionary War resting in the church yard.

In its 275 years, the Forks has been through the Old Side-New Side era (as evidenced by our two cemeteries). It has sent its sons to 10 wars starting with the French and Indian War and culminating in the current wars in the Middle East. Dwight L. Moody and J. Gresham Machen have preached from our pulpit. We have seen the two great awakenings, as well as tragic deviations from the Reformed traditions, including the debacle of the 1924 General Assembly of the PCUSA and the steady worldly drift of the PC(USA). In 2007, we were one of the 4 original members of the New Wineskins Presbytery of the EPC.

We will also receive our new pastor, Rev. Wil Snyder, who will begin his pastorate as the 17th pastor of our congregation.

At the end of the month, we will be received into the EPC’s Presbytery of the East, finishing a journey that began 10 years ago.

Throughout the past two and three-quarters centuries, our people have maintained a vibrant and energetic faith in God and have gratefully declared the Lordship of His son, Jesus Christ, and the infallibility and inerrancy of His word set forth in the Holy Bible. We look forward with joy, excitement and confidence to the next 25 years.

“NOW YOU HAVE TAXATION WITH REPRESENTATION. DO YOU LIKE IT ANY BETTER?”

2010-08-24T21:49:00.002-04:00

One episode of the TV series Maude centered around a British woman who was studying for her US citizenship exam. Maude was helping her study.

“Why did the colonists revolt against England,” Maude asked?

“I have never understood that,” her friend replied.

“We didn’t like taxation without representation.”

“Well, “ her friend observed, “now you have taxation with representation. Do you like it any better?”

Those of us who were taught American history, before the politically correct bunch decided to rewrite the curriculum, learned about the many taxes that Parliament attempted to impose on our ancestors. The Sugar Act, Stamp Act, the Townshend Acts, and so many others, culminating with the Tea Act, led the people to rise up and demand their independence. So repugnant to the Founding Fathers were taxes that the Constitution as originally written (pre-16th Amendment) provided that “No capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid, unless in Proportion to the Census or Enumeration herein before directed to be taken.” Art I, sec 9, cl 4 In other words, a flat or head tax on the citizenry was the only permissible tax on the people.

And history may be repeating itself.

Government at every level is out of control. Ignoring the economic facts, the federal government has spent trillions it doesn’t have on a health care plan that will never work. After the Democrats spent months assuring the American people that a massive expansion of government would result in huge savings, we now learn that they lied.

In the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, Governor Rendell is seeking additional taxes and significant increases from the largest and most expensive state legislature in the Nation. School Boards are kowtowing to the unions and increasing budgets, salaries and taxes on a population that has seen income—and often jobs—dwindle.

Now, the City of Philadelphia is planning to tax bloggers!

According to the Mayor, the City just learned that some bloggers who allow advertising to appear on their blogs have reported the resulting income to the IRS. Deeming such blogs to be “businesses,” the City plans to require bloggers to obtain a business privilege license.

At some point in time, the people are going to wake up. I wonder if November 2 may be reveille?

COMING HOME

2010-07-30T23:42:00.004-04:00

On the evening of May 10, 2010, if I had been asked, “Are you planning to hurt yourself?”, I would have answered “No.” A few hours later, I awoke from “the dream” to the thought that “I cannot do this anymore!”

I got up—as I had in nearly every other night for the past 41 years to walk through the house, “checking lines.” This time, I dressed haphazardly, put a shotgun in my truck, went back in the house to get my helmet, and drove to a field, where I was surrounded by repeated intermittent visions of North Vietnamese Army soldiers and the ghosts of my Marines. For two and a half hours, I sat there with a loaded shotgun, muzzle against my chest, thumb on the trigger, safety off. Had you asked me, “What in God’s Name are you doing?”, I would have answered, “I don’t think God knows where I am.”

Of course, I was wrong—He had His arms firmly around me.

By 7:00 am the next morning, I was in the VA Hospital in Coatesville, Pennsylvania. After spending seven days on the psychiatric ward, I was accepted in the combat-related post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) unit at Coatesville. The program, which was started in 1981, a year after PTSD was first recognized by the American Psychiatric Association as an anxiety disorder, is recognized as one of the finest PTSD programs in the Nation.

Combat-related PTSD is a tricky bastard: It is marked by flashbacks (in which the traumatic event(s) are re-experienced as if they were occurring in the present, rather than as memories), nightmares, and a negative emotional and/or physical response to reminders of the traumatic event(s), such as, in my case, fireworks, sounds of helicopters or sounds replicating mortars being fired, and certain landscapes. As a result, I followed the norm and began to avoid behaviors, places, or people that might lead to distressing memories. For me, that included seeking to avoid conflict, uncertainty, and decision-making. This led me to self-isolate and refrain, in an ever-smaller personal world, from activities in my profession, community, church, and family. There was many a day that, after SWMBO and the kids left for school, I sat in a dark closet. I became emotionally numb and began to see the future as just an ever smaller and ever darker place.

In addition to experiencing difficulty staying asleep, my concentration and mental focus went to Hell. There were many days in which I lost hours of my time.

At the same time, I became hyper-vigilant. I dove for cover at the sound of a balloon popping right behind me--to the amused consternation of my fellow passengers on a commuter train. I heard mortars in the distance and dreamt of the in-coming short round that almost got us in the Arizona.

And my anger became unmanageable. Imagine, if you can, the look on a little boy’s face when he is braced up for not immediately putting his dishes in the sink. “Dammit! People die when orders are not followed.” Really?, he must have thought.

Thankfully, I did not succumb to self-medication with drugs and alcohol, a major recourse sought by many combat-related PTSD sufferers.

Finally, the guilt I felt for surviving when my Marines did not had become overwhelming.

After an intense 11 week hospitalization, I am home. The therapists and staff at VA, Coatesville, are the best. The work they do with vets from Vietnam, Beirut, Desert Storm. Bosnia, Somalia, Iraq and Afghanistan is something to see.

As we worked through my memory of “that night”, I told my therapist “I want the pain to go away, but I don’t want to lose the gallantry of my Marines ‘that night.’”

“Mac,” she replied, “there is not a therapist on earth that could do that, or who would want to.”

Last week, just before I came home, I told Wandro’s story in one of our groups. For the first time in 41 years, I did not cry during the re-telling—that came later and as a relief. I was sad, but it was something that happened in the past, not in the here and now.

There is a slogan that is almost a mantra in the PTSD unit: “It takes the courage of a warrior to seek help.” For the past 11 weeks, I have lived, laughed, cried, studied, and bonded with some courageous warriors. Each one is battling his or her own demons, while becoming re-assured that he is not the Lone Ranger.

They are as special to me as are the Marines of Charlie Company and I will never forget them.

I still have a long, long way to go (on the walk to my truck, I heard a whirrrrrring sound and ducked reflexively), but I’ve made a start.

HOME IS THE SAILOR, HOME FROM THE SEA. . .

2010-04-10T08:43:00.004-04:00

The plane landed in St. Louis at about 0600. I quickly collected my gear and grabbed a cab. The driver quoted a fare across the river and we were off. He was a 1/5 vet of Korea, who kept up a running commentary about his experiences in “a real war.” When we arrived, I threw my sea bag over my shoulder and walked up the drive to the front door. It was about 0645. On a whim, I knocked and stood there. Mom opened the door having apparently just gotten out of bed. She did not have her glasses on.

“Merry Christmas, lady.”

“Oh, just a minute let me get my glasses.” She turned to go back into the house.

Well, this isn’t what I expected. “Uh, Mom?”

She spun, screamed “Michael?” and then started yelling “Mary. Mary. Michael’s home.” Turning to me, she said “Oh, my. I thought you were the mailman.” (For our younger readers who are about to face Saturdays without home delivery—as if the generation of twitter and texting and e-mail will even notice—there was a time when, during the Christmas holidays, mail was regularly delivered twice a day.)

I was still standing on the porch. My Sister came running into the room and ushered me into the house . We had a quick breakfast as Mom and Sis readied to go to school. After they left, I showered and shaved and hit the rack, with the two cats nestled together on my chest. I slept the clock around.

The next day, I borrowed a car and drove up to ISU to see Maryann. I had talked to her and knew that she was in class until 2:00 pm. We planned to meet at the University Union.

I parked and walked across the campus. I was in uniform, and began to get a lot of looks—curious, then cautious, then disdainful. Suddenly, a scruffy looking co-ed stepped into my path. She grabbed me by the lapels, and screamed “How many innocent people did you kill, you mother f-----g pig ? You should rot in Hell!” The only reaction from the students was smirks and laughter.

I took her wrists and pulled them away. She laughed in my face.

When I finally met Maryann, and after a warm reception, she said, “Oh, I should have warned you not to wear your Marine costume. It’s best not to let anyone know what you do for a living.”

Costume? The Service is “what I do for a living?”

I drove her to Chicago the next afternoon for a reunion with her family. She did some last minute shopping for the wedding and I tried to ease back into life in the World. But I felt out of place. No one asked about my year in Vietnam or even alluded to the fact that less than a week before, I had been at An Hoa. I drove her back to the University on Sunday and then on to Granite City.

The next morning, I went downtown to shop for a car. I knew what I wanted and within 15 minutes had ordered a brand spanking new 1970 Chevrolet Nova, to be picked up the next morning. It cost me $1,978. 62, including tax, title and tags. Those were the days, my friends.

I next headed to the credit union to arrange for an auto loan. My folks had been members for years and I had gotten a loan two years before when I bought my VW Beetle. The President of the credit union, who was also our insurance agent, worked through the paperwork.

“Now, your Mother will need to co-sign this loan.”

“Really? She didn’t co-sign the last time.”

“Yes, but now you’re in the Army. We need a guarantee on the loan.” I bristled.

His son (and the VP of both the credit union and the insurance agency) looked up. “He’s a Marine, Dad. They don’t like being mistaken for the Army.”

“Oh,” Harry muttered. “Well, in any case, we need a co-signor when one of them wants a loan.”

One of them? “Really? Even though the last time I was just a college student and now I am a career officer?”

“You’re not a ‘career officer’ until you have 15 years in the service.”

His son, who had just gotten out of the Army, looked up again. “I know that is what the credit union has decided, Dad, but I don’t want to be here the day you tell some Major that he is not a career soldier.”

I had had enough. “Look, forget it. Just get the insurance papers put together. I’m picking up the car tomorrow.” He agreed.

I quickly drove out to the Granite City Army Engineer Depot and headed for the disbursing office. Luckily, I had brought my pay records with me, assuming I would need them at the credit union. I had already gotten cash back at An Hoa for my leave, including the honeymoon, but now I needed to buy a car.

A civilian disbursing clerk saw me coming. I handed her my ID card and pay record and said “I need to get some of the cash I have on the books.”

“No problem, Sir. How much?”

“$1,978. 62.” She looked up with a quizzical smile. “I’m buying a car,” I explained.

Ten minutes later, she was back. I signed for the cash and she handed me my pay jacket. “Do you have anything to carry your money in?” Damn. She saw my face and smiled again. “Here, I have my lunch bag. Will that do?” I walked out with the cash in a mayonnaise-stained brown paper bag.

I was really unsettled by this time. That night, I decided to take care of one other little piece of business. I drove to the local American Legion Post. It was Monday night and I suspected that the weekly ham and beans dinner would soon be underway. One of the Legionnaires at the front desk looked up. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m just home from Vietnam. Thought I’d join up,” I replied.

He looked at another guy at the desk, turned back to me, and snorted. “Another one of them, eh. Look, Sonny, why don’t you come back when you’ve won a goddam war?” They both laughed.

I spun on my heel and marched out. “How many innocent people did you kill?” Marine “costume?” One of them? Come back when you’ve won one? It dawned on me that no one—no one—had said “Welcome Home.”

Am I welcome? I had the strangest longing to be back with 1/5, in a place that I understood.

That was 40 years ago. Since then we, as a Nation, have had our ups and downs.

We've gone through the terrible years of the early 70s when we almost tore the Country apart and planted the seeds of political polarization that are still bearing fruit today. We have seen bad presidents—Nixon and the worst of all, Jimmy Carter(who delayed the raid to bring our hostages home until he could be assured that no Iranians would be hurt!), and a great president, Ronald Reagan. We have elected a draft dodger, who protested on foreign soil while my Marines were taking the battle to the enemy, and the first black American who is still writing his record on the slate of history.

We have fought and won one war using tactics based on the lessons of Vietnam. In General Powell's words when he spoke to the Naval Institute, we learned that when we go to war, we need to "gang up." But we are also in danger of forgetting that lesson of the need for overwhelming force as a new generation tries to ignore a war that is being fought by its best.

The Veteran’s Administration of the 1970s, with its hell hole hospitals and inadequate budgets, has been replaced by a VA that is a refuge to those of us who are still dealing with Vietnam, the gift that keeps on giving.

It was not until the 1980s that the American Legion really began to reach out to Vietnam vets—and then, mainly, as a matter of survival. The Vietnam War Memorial, a black hole in the ground designed by a college kid from an Ivy League college that did not want the ROTC on its campus, has now become the most visited site in Washington, DC. With the flag and statues that Jim Webb and others demanded and received, it is now a place of honor. I go there every time I am in the Capital, to talk with the names on Panels 35 W to 22 W.

We go to reunions, we Marines of Charlie 1/5, where we are fast becoming the old men of the 1st Marine Division. In 2007, I introduced Mike Tonkyn to the Division Commander as a Navy Cross recipient. The General shook Mike’s hand and said, “It is a real honor to meet you, Sir.”

Later, Mike said to me, “You know, Mac, never in this Lance Corporal’s wildest imagination did the Division Commander call me, ‘Sir.’”

“Ah, that’s all right,” I responded. “ He’s younger than you.” We both almost fell to the ground laughing.

The first time I was welcomed home as a Vietnam vet was in the parking lot of the Spectrum before a Philadelphia Wings game in December 1988, 19 years later! The local Vietnam Veterans of America unit was handing out little paper American flags and asking for donations as a fundraiser for their scholarship fund. The vet saw my Marine Corps decal on my car and asked “When did you serve.” I told him. He shook my hand and said, “Welcome Home, brother.”

I broke down and started crying. He just held me, and kept saying, “It’s OK, buddy. You’re home now. It’s OK. Welcome home. Welcome home.”

But in the dark hours of the night, I am still there. As I walk my dog in a foggy park, the tree line across the field is not in Pennsylvania--it is in the Arizona Territory. I wake up, checking lines or listening for mortars in the distance. Many nights--most nights--are in part or in whole just another re-telling of "that night."

And always they are with me. "At the going down of the sun and in the morning, I remember them:" Lucas and Zimmerman, Tews and Phipps and Unfried, and always, Chip and Jimmy Wandro.

I think often of Robert Louis Stevenson's Requiem. "Here he is where he longs to be. Home is the sailor, home from the sea, and the hunter home from the hill."

I'm still not really home, but I long to be. It has been a long voyage. Maybe we'll dock tonight.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

A CALIFORNIA GODDESS AWAITS

2010-04-09T06:25:00.003-04:00

The next day, Thursday, 11 December, we reported to the Transient Facility at Danang Air base to begin processing for our trip home. After the fun that we had had at the DOOM Club, I hit the rack early. This was one flight that I did not want to miss.

On Friday morning, we mustered. About 150 of us then moved to a C-130 for the trip to Kadena Air Force Base on Okinawa. Take off was routine, and about 10 minutes later, the crew chief announced that we had just left Vietnamese air space. There was a cheer, but it was almost anticlimactic. The aircraft was a standard C-130, with canvas bench seats along each side of the aircraft and a back-to-back arrangement of canvas bench seats down the centerline of the aircraft. I dozed for most of the trip.

We landed at Kadena in early afternoon and were trucked to Camp Hague to be processed. Our orders were collected and stamped and busses ran us over to 3d Force Service Regiment to collect the baggage we had stored the year before. We were billeted in Quonset hut barracks for the night.

A few of our TBS classmates who were still on Okinawa formed up with us and led us to a genuine Kobi beef restaurant for dinner. Afterwards, we decided to visit a steam bath. The guys who had been on Oki knew just where to take us.

It was a little hole in the wall place. We paid our tab and were ushered into a locker room and handed towels. After stripping down, we were led into a room holding perhaps a dozen old-fashioned steam cabinets. After being locked in, the steam was turned on and we sat for 15 or 20 minutes. When the cabinets were opened, we were streaked with dirt that had been steamed out of our pores. We were then led into a Japanese style bath and soaked for another 20 minutes or so.

Next came the massage tables—in private rooms. The masseuse initially gave me a rub down and ended with the traditional walk on my back. Then she asked if I was interested in the “special.” When it dawned on me just what the “special” entailed, I declined. I was getting married in two weeks, for crying out loud!

On Saturday, I went to the barbershop to get a haircut, to the MCX to get the proper ribbons, pressed out the uniform I would wear to California, polished leather and brass, and just relaxed. We were wearing the Winter Service “A” uniform: green blouse and trousers with khaki shirt and field scarf. We were also wearing the fourragère earned by the Fifth Marines in France in WWI. It was our only opportunity to wear it, and it was a big deal.

We ate off base that night, but ended up in the Officers Club for a late night. The next morning, I got up early to go to Mass and then packed away my utilities and waited for the time to return to Kadena. Finally, we were on the bus and heading home.

At Kadena, we checked in and at about 2200 on Sunday night. We mustered and then walked out to the plane that would take us home, taking off at 2300. I sat with Tom Pottenger and Mike and Jerry were across the aisle from us. The flight was uneventful. Because we were headed east, we had the advantage of the jet stream and the earth’s rotation working for us. We flew non-stop from Kadena to Travis Air Force Base outside of San Francisco. There the plane refueled and flew on down to Marine Corps Air Station, El Toro, where we landed at about 1800 on Sunday. Thanks to the International Date Line, we landed about five hours before we left Okinawa!

Tom walked out onto the aircraft steps in front of me. Suddenly, he stopped.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Where are the bands? Where are the flags?”

“Not that kind of war, Tommy,” I replied. “Let’s go home.”

We picked up our bags and headed into the terminal at El Toro. A Lance Corporal was waiting for us. He collected our orders, officers, then Staff NCOs, then NCOs, then non-rated men. A few minutes later, my orders were returned and I was directed to pass through customs. A PFC was the Customs inspector.

“You got anything to declare, Lieutenant,” he asked?

“I do declare I am glad to be home in one piece!”

“Yessir. See you next time.”

I headed through a glass door into a lobby which was dominated by a ticket office. Mike, Tom, and Jerry were already inside. I found a ticket agent and bought a ticket from LA to Saint Louis. I had two choices: there was a TWA flight to St. Louis that left at 2230 and another to Cincinnati via St. Louis that left at 2245. I knew that Tom would be on the Cincinnati flight, but I wasn’t going to “waste” 15 minutes waiting for him.

It was now 1845. As I came out of the ticket office, Tom, Mike, and Jerry were headed out the door to the taxi stand. Pot waved for me to doubletime. “Jerry has a flight out of LA in an hour. Last one until tomorrow morning. We gotta move.”

Jerry and Mike were at the curb. The taxi driver was a grizzled old gal.

“Can you get us to the Northwest Air Lines terminal at LA by 7:45,” Jerry asked?

“Fifty bucks a head,” she replied. We paid up.

“Well, get in. Get in. What are we waiting for? Time’s a-wasting,” she shouted. We dumped our bags in the trunk, jumped in the cab, and took off. I don’t think we ever flew more than 5 feet above the roadway, but it was scary. For the second time in three days, I feared that I was going to die in an accident before I got home. We got to LAX at 7:42 pm.

Jerry grabbed his bags, shook our hands and ran for his 8:10 flight. (He made it.) Tom, Mike and I took our bags and stood there in the street looking at one another.

“I’m on United to Chicago, over there,” Mike said. Tom and I were headed for the TWA terminal, so once again we shook hands. “I’ll see you at the wedding, Mac.” And he was gone.

Tom and I grabbed our gear and headed to the TWA building. As we entered, we were greeted by a golden California goddess, dressed in a bright red TWA uniform. She had long legs that stretched from the floor all the way to….., well, let’s just say she was exquisite.

“Good evening, gentlemen. What can I do for you this evening?” Her smile was dazzling.

“Oh, my dear, so many things,” Pot replied. "But I just don’t have the time.” The goddess blushed!

“Please pardon the lieutenant,” I interjected. “Is there a bar in the airport?”

She gave us directions and I led Pot towards the TWA check in counter where we dropped our bags. Then we found the bar. It being Sunday, we took our anti-malaria horse pills as we would have to do for six weeks. They went down a lot easier with cold draft beer.

We headed for our respective gates at about 9:30. Tom’s was right next to mine. I boarded at about 10:00 pm, and had just settled in when the Captain spoke over the PA system. “We’ve had a little problem with the plane and we are going to have to shift you to another aircraft that is also headed for St. Louis. The good news is that it is parked at the very next gate.”

We disembarked and moved to the next gate. When I boarded the airplane, I was looking for Pot. (These were the days before boarding passes and assigned seating.) I spotted him in a window seat, already asleep. His seat mate was a little old lady. The aisle seat across from her was empty and I dropped my awol bag on it.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, but I have been sitting next to the Lieutenant all the way from Vietnam. Is there any chance we could swap seats?”

“Of course, Dear.” She moved into the new seat.

I sat down and smacked Pot on top of the head. “Sorry, Leatherneck, but you’re still stuck with me.”

The aircraft took a long roll down the runway and we were headed home.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

“I LIKE MARINES,” THE AIRDALE SAID.

2010-04-08T06:07:00.001-04:00

And finally the orders came. Our flight date was Friday, 12 December 1969. On that date, I was to “proceed and report to Commanding General, 2d Marine Division, FMF, Camp Lejeune, NC for duty.” On Wednesday morning, 10 December, Pottenger came running into the S-4 bunker. “Hey, Mac, Ayers has the Regimental Commander’s Huey (UH-1 helicopter) that can take us to Danang, but we have to go right now.”

I grabbed my sea bag and headed for the LZ. Mike and Jerry were already there, appearing like wraiths in the mist and fog. We boarded the chopper and were on our way. I was sitting in the middle of the bench seat on the after bulkhead, looking forward between the Aircraft Commander and the co-pilot. Suddenly, a CH-53 materialized in front of us.

“[Universal modifier] me.” The words came through our headsets loud and clear. We banked hard left and climbed, as the 53 banked to our right and dove. The rest of the short trip was completed in absolute silence.

We were dropped at the LZ at 11th Motors/5th Marines (rear) where we turned in our weapons, helmets and flak jackets. To be walking around outside with no weapon or protective gear was eerie. We contacted the Lieutenant who was the Division Special Services Officer, a 1/5 alumni, who offered us a place to bunk that night. (The Special Services Office was also at 11th Motors. We could not report in to the Transient Center until the day before our flight.)

Mark was a good guy who had been injured while serving with Tom in Bravo Company. Any time one of us was a pay officer, we usually stopped by to see him. Among the items he had in stock were cartons of paperback books. He would let us take our pick and then take a couple of cartons back to the battalion.

We decided to walk up to the Division Command Post at Hill 327 and hitch a ride over to Danang Air Force Base. Mark declined our offer to join us. The famous DOOM Club (Danang Officers Open Mess) was said to have a really great menu, and we intended to sample it at least once.

As we walked up the road in our scruffy utilities, a couple of officers crossed the road in front of us. They were wearing green gym shorts and white tee shirts, both bearing the Division patch, and gym shoes. They were carrying racketball rackets.“Boys,” Mike muttered. “I have a feeling that some of us were invited to a different war than others of us.”

We caught a ride to the air base, arriving at about 1700. As we entered the DOOM Club, we saw numerous men leaving air-conditioned trailers dressed in polo shirts and khaki slacks heading for the mess. Our dress caught more than a few eyes.

At the entrance to the dining room, the Vietnamese maitre de informed us that our attire did not conform to Air Force standards for the main dining room. We could see tables set with linen, china and silver. A five piece orchestra was playing and a Filipina singer was belting out a tune. We were about as welcome as a goat at a wedding.

“But you can get something to eat in the informal bar, if you wish,” he offered.

We headed for the bar and started drinking. I think we ate something, but we were pretty hacked about our treatment by our airdale brethren.

A friend later told me that he was treated the same way on Guam. He had been wounded and evacuated to Naval Hospital, Guam. When he was well enough to do so, he and a couple of other Marine officers were given liberty. They headed for Andersen Air Force Base and its officers club.

Andersen was a Strategic Air Command base during the Vietnam War. Operation Arc Light, in which B-52s dropped bombs on North and South Vietnam, was an Andersen operation. The crews would tuck their kids in bed, kiss their wives, go to the office, fly to Vietnam and blow the stuffing out of someone or something, and be back home for breakfast with the family.

The Andersen club had a tradition in which the crews that had flown in combat that day were paraded into the bar. At the command, “Make way for the combat crews,” all persons at the bar were expected to move away.

The three Marines walked into the club and up to the bar and ordered their drinks. Suddenly, the command was given. “Make way for the combat crews.” The Air Force personnel at the bar quickly moved away. Our three hearties turned, leaned against the bar, drinks in hand, and watched a column of twos enter the bar and march towards them. The airdales were clad in blue flight suits with silk scarves knotted around their necks. None of the Marines moved.

A Major shouted again, “Make Way For The Combat Crews!” The column of twos was getting nearer. The Marines stood fast. The bar was deathly silent.

His face a scarlet red, the Major (who was the Club Officer) raced up and put his face just inches from my friend’s. MAKE WAY FOR THE COMBAT CREWS!!”

My friend, who had been wounded about 40 miles from anywhere out on the Lao border while leading a patrol from First Force Reconnaissance Company looked the Major in the eye. “[Universal modifier] the combat crews. What are you gonna do if I don’t? Shave my head and send me to Vietnam?”

The pilot leading the column, a colonel, heard that and doubled over, laughing.

“Never mind, Major. They are M.A.R.I.N.E.S. We’ll be glad to drink with them.”

Back at the DOOM Club, we were still drinking at about 2300. There were a few Air Force types in the bar who started ragging on us. A lieutenant colonel, dressed in a flight suit, shushed them. He came over to us.

“You’re Marines. I like Marines. Let me buy you a drink.” Agreeing that we had something in common (“We like Marines, too.”) we invited him to sit down. Our drinks arrived and we toasted the Corps.

“What do you do around here, Colonel,” Tom asked?

“I command one of the Spooky gunship squadrons.” We then allowed as how we liked Spook and bought the Colonel a drink. By midnight, Pot was asleep at the table, Mike and Jerry were leaning back in their chairs quite relaxed, and the Colonel and I were still enjoying our drinks. The bartender came over to announce that the bar was closing.

“Where are you boys billeted,” our host asked?

“Over at 11th Motors, Sir.”

“Great. You get your buddies outside. I’ll get a truck and take you back there.” He left.

I got my three shipmates to the front door just as a grey Air Force pick up truck pulled up. The Colonel jumped out and helped me pour the guys into the bed of the truck.

“You navigate,” the Colonel commanded. I got in the truck and off we went. As we passed through the main gate, a thought popped into my head.

“Colonel, you command a Spooky squadron, right.”

“Yup.”

“Well, how come this truck says ‘15th Aeromedical Evacuation Squadron’ on the door?”

“Hell, son. I said I’d get a truck. I didn’t say from where.” I wondered if he and Sergeant Henderson were related. Then I spent the rest of the trip worrying that on my next to last night in country I would be nabbed for grand theft auto!

The trip was interesting. I sort of knew where we were going, but after midnight, the ARVN set up checkpoints on the road. That didn‘t faze the Colonel. He blew right through them. We finally got to 11th Motors and headed for the rack. I convinced the Colonel that he should spend the night with us.

About 0400, we were awakened by small arms fire and rounds flying through our hooch. We bailed out and spent the rest of the night, unarmed, hiding under the hooch. Apparently, a couple of ARVN patrols got into an intramural firefight out in the paddy, so we were relatively safe.

Thus ended my last firefight. No runs, no hits, no errors, four men left on base, waiting to go home.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

THE END IS IN SIGHT

2010-04-07T08:42:00.002-04:00

Mike, Tom, Jerry Ayers and I finally got our orders to depart Vietnam “on or about 12 December 1969.” As near as we could determine, we were the last to leave country of the 142 lieutenants who arrived on 20 December 1968. Then, about 1 December, my relief came aboard. Tom Pottenger and Mike Koch also had reliefs who were anxious to get to work in their new assignments. That worked for us.

The next night, I sent Sayne and another Marine down to the LZ to guard the pre-staged supplies for the battalion. We had been getting reports that the supplies were being “rat-f_____d” by the LZ personnel, i.e., someone was opening cases of C-rats and removing the more desirable meals and taking other goodies, such as SPs.

We were hit at about 2100. I grabbed my rifle and headed for the LZ to make sure my Marines were OK. They were, but I was dinged in the helmet and flak jacket by some shrapnel.

When I got back, my relief, a Captain, dressed me down but good. He reminded me that I had only a week and a half to go and that he would have to write the letter if I did something stupid and got myself killed. I was ordered to stand down.

One of the advantages of being assigned as a pay officer was the opportunity to go to Danang to pay hospitalized troops. Among the “sights” in Danang was the Freedom Hill Post Exchange, which rivaled many PX’s then extant in the US. Having a captive audience (no malls in Danang, boys and girls), many merchants opened “stores” in Vietnam.

The Big Three auto makers had kiosks outside the Exchange where a Marine could purchase a car to be picked up at home on his return. They hired “round eyes” to man the sales booths—young American women who, back home, might not have gotten a casual glance from a hormoned up teenager, but who, in Vietnam, were goddesses. I suspect that the sales in a week paid for one of the girls for a couple of months.

Every soldier, sailor, airman and Marine was issued a “ration card” which had to be presented at the time of purchase. Rationing was designed to slow down resales to the black market. Among other things, officers and Staff NCOs were allowed a ration of six quarts of alcohol per month. Of course, those in the bush were not buying or using alcohol, but the folks back at An Hoa did occasionally consume adult beverages.

Before heading to Danang, pay officers would collect ration cards and take orders. The prices were incredible, even in those days. As I recall, a quart of Chivas Regal went for three bucks. It was not uncommon for a pay officer to return from Danang with 18 to 24 bottles of hooch.

So, after my tail chewing by the Captain, I began to join Mike and Tom in a nightly “celebration.”

Our routine was to eat supper at the mess hall and then retire down to the Charlie Company sea bag tent for the evening. The sea bag tent was the storage point for the sea bags that the troops had brought in country—holding their stateside utilities, leather boots, summer service C uniform (for R & R) and other sundry clothing and equipment they did not want or could not use in the field. There were probably 200 sea bags stacked in the tent.

We would begin drinking shortly after 1800 and would continue until sleep overtook us. We would either sleep on top of the stacked sea bags, or we would stumble back to our respective bunkers. One "morning after," Mike showed up with cuts all over his arms. He had gotten a little off course on his walk back to his hooch and had fallen into some concertina barbed wire. Tom and I were sympathetic and supportive. Yes we were!

One night, I got back to the S-4 bunker in time to catch the end of the night’s cockroach races. The cockroaches in that part of the world grow to over an inch in length. The interior wooden walls of our bunker were streaked with spray painted trails resulting from our efforts to corral champion roaches. Someone would spot a roach crawling across the wall. He would grab a can of spray paint from the paint locker and begin to paint the bug. Roaches do not like to be painted, and they would scurry across the walls, leaving a winding path that Bil Keane would have been proud of.

We also had a large circle painted on the deck. Different colored roaches would be dropped at the center and the race would begin. The first to leave the circle was the winner and got to race again. The losers were squashed. As I write this, it sounds gross and not particularly exciting, but in country, it was the acme of sport. I had a yellow roach that won 10 straight races. I was sorry to step on him when he finally lost, but rules are rules.

One night just three or four days before we left, I returned to the S-4 bunker from our cocktail hour. It was about 2200 and it was raining. My boots were muddy and I was a bit unsteady. Suddenly, a large, pregnant rat scurried across the deck.

Someone called “Rat,” and I whipped out my K-Bar combat knife and dove for the beast. I missed, but managed to cut deep into my left wrist. Someone put a battle dressing on the wound and I was driven down to Battalion Aid Station 1/5. The duty Corpsman had been with Charlie Company and had given me my shots earlier that day. He looked at the cut and announced that it would take a couple of stitches to close it up. “I can give you something to numb it, Lieutenant, but it will be four sticks to deaden it and four sticks to sew it. What do you want?”

“Aw, hell, Doc, I’m already a little numb. Just sew the damn’d thing up.” Big mistake on my part.

The first stitch went in just fine. So did the first half of the second, but on the way out, the needle hit a nerve. My penance, I presume.

The rat was not seen again—probably off telling all the other rats about the idiot with the knife.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

THE LOONY LEFT STRIKES AGAIN

2010-04-06T18:16:00.001-04:00

The liberal media is up in arms over the release of some gun camera film taken in 2007 showing the death of two Reuters News Agency correspondents who were traveling with a group of armed Iraqi insurgents. According to a CNN report accompanying the videotape -- which was originally posted on a web site called WikiLeaks, “a site that publishes anonymously submitted documents, video and other sensitive materials,”-- “the video. . . clearly shows the unprovoked slaying of a wounded Reuters employee and his rescuers."

In fact, the attack was clearly provoked. The two Reuters employees assumed the risk of attaching themselves to an armed unit of an opposing force. As Ernie Pyle understood, they paid their dime and took their chances, with no guarantees.

A unit of the 16th Infantry had been in contact with an armed group of insurgents at a location about 100 meters from where the “unprovoked slaying” occurred. Small arms fire was received from the insurgents during the engagement and continued after the helicopters attacked. The two Reuters employees were traveling in the midst of the insurgents who were firing at American forces. The insurgents were armed with AKM rifles and a rocket propelled grenade launcher and warhead. One of the Reuters men carried a camera with a telephoto lens. Just before the helicopters were cleared to fire, he was seen peering around the corner of a building toward an American vehicle parked 100 meters away. Only part of the lens protruded around the building edge, and from the air, it would have looked like the RPG launcher actually being carried by another insurgent.

Two gunships were supporting the ground forces, were being controlled from the ground, and were following up on a nearby firefight between insurgents and an Army unit. After initially taking this group of armed insurgents under fire,the helicopters saw a van drive up and three military age individuals were seen jumping out and loading one wounded man into the van. From what I saw, it appeared that at least one weapon was also tossed in the van. The helicopters were then cleared to fire on the van.

After US troops reached the scene, they found a number of dead insurgents, several weapons, and two wounded children in the van. The children were evacuated to an Iraqi hospital where they apparently later died. One wounded insurgent was captured and treated by US forces.

Neither of the Reuters employees was wearing anything to identify them as correspondents, not that it would have mattered, and neither had alerted US forces that they would be accompanying insurgents. I say “not that it would have mattered” because by being present in the midst of a group that was engaging US forces, they assumed the risk that they might be taken under fire and either killed or wounded.

The incident was promptly investigated by the Army in accordance with army regulations. The Investigating Officer determined that the helicopter crew (sic) had "neither reason nor probability to assume that neutral media personnel were embedded with enemy forces."

The loony left is beside themselves because of what they erroneously perceive as a violation of the law of war. Journalists and children were killed, they say, and that is wrong. And the helicopter crew, having just engaged an armed enemy, made the kind of adrenaline-tinged comments that warriors have always made after counting coup.

Sad, yes. Wrong, no. As one of the helicopter crew, probably on an adrenaline high, is heard to say, people ought not bring their kids to a battle.

The presence of non-combatants in the midst of a group of combatants, especially a group of combatants engaging or about to engage US forces, does not render them safe. In fact, if they were using non-combatants as a shield, it is the insurgents who have violated the law of war.

The children were present, but not visible, in an unmarked vehicle that was apparently attempting to evacuate a wounded insurgent and weapons. That made the vehicle a legitimate target.

This is just another case of a bunch of people who do not understand the deadly seriousness of war crying “foul” when there was no foul. A press, protected by the First Amendment—which is, in turn, protected by our forces who are fighting an enemy who has no respect for freedom of the press or any other freedom—can hide behind the First as they spread malicious lies and mischaracterizations.

And the American people will let them get away with it!

SOUVENIRS

2010-04-03T09:44:00.001-04:00

During all of our wars, at least through WWII in Europe, one problem facing commanders has been looting. Grant’s staff picked Mr. Mc Lean’s parlor clean after Lee’s surrender. Many officers and men in the American armies in Europe sent home German silver, art, and other artifacts that they had taken from private homes as well as German offices.

Looting while hostilities are still underway, is a serious problem. In addition to giving the enemy additional cause to fight to the end, troops who abandon the fight to loot seriously impede the war effort. Thus, under military law, a commander can establish or issue a “safeguard” with respect to enemy or neutral property. The Manual for Courts-Martial defines a safeguard thusly: “ A safeguard is a detachment, guard, or detail posted by a commander for the protection of persons, places, or property of the enemy, or of a neutral affected by the relationship of belligerent forces in their prosecution of war or during circumstances amounting to a state of belligerency. The term also includes a written order left by a commander with an enemy subject or posted upon enemy property for the protection of that person or property.” So serious is this matter that when Congress adopted Article 102, UCMJ “forcing a safeguard,” it was adopted as a capital offense.

“Article 102. Any person subject to this chapter who forces a safeguard shall suffer death or such other punishment as a court-martial may direct.”

Article 103 makes criminal any failure to “secure all public property taken from the enemy for the service of the United States, and [to] give notice and turn over to the proper authority without delay all captured or abandoned property in their possession, custody, or control. This article has a different motive—protection of Uncle Sam’s pocketbook. By definition, captured enemy property becomes the property of the United States. And it leads to a major leadership balancing act.

Looting was not a problem in the largely rural wars in Korea and Vietnam, but retention by troops of “war souvenirs” is an ancient tradition. The Marine who has taken a weapon or other article of military equipment from an enemy he has killed or captured ought not be punished for failing to turn it over to some REMF bean counter. (Under international law, certain items cannot be taken from captured troops: money, personal photos, and their personal clothing and protective gear, i.e., cold weather clothing and helmets so long as they are still subject to hostile fire. Diaries and papers that are of intelligence value may be taken.)

Accordingly, in all of our modern wars, procedures have been established to help troops account for, but retain, bona fide war souvenirs.

My first exposure to the issue of war souvenirs came shortly after I got to Vietnam. While searching a ville, I found a SKS rifle. The SKS is a Russian-designed semiautomatic rifle that fires the 7.62x39 caliber round, the same round fired by the AK-47 and the RPK light machinegun, both of which were in wide use by both the VC and the NVA.

Unlike the AK-47, the SKS was semiautomatic and thus could be lawfully possessed without a Federal firearms license, making it a very popular souvenir. It was, I was to learn, also rare, because the AK-47 was the primary weapon of the NVA and the VC.

One of my troops, a Tet survivor who was only a couple of weeks away from going home, admired my find. In a fit of generosity, I handed it to him and said, “Here, you take this one. I’ll keep the next one.”

I never captured another, and finally got my SKS from our Clerk of Session who was selling one his two rifles. (As we exchanged rifle and check in the church parking lot after services, the Pastor walked out, took one look, shook his head, and walked back into the church.)

I only saw one NVA pistol, a Russian Makarov PM, with red-star hand grips.It went to the Marine who found its previous owner, either the CO or the Political Officer of 2/90 NVA) dead in a bunker when we recovered the downed medevac bird in the Arizona.

Other popular souvenirs were cap badges (a red enamel star), belts (made of leather or the hide of the endangered “nauga”) with belt plate, canteens, and Soviet compasses which were better than ours. The Soviet compass had a small wheel in the base that was marked for various map scales (1:50,000, 1:25,000, 1:12,500). Running the wheel along a route gave you a pretty accurate measure of distance.

Another popular item, especially for Marines with small feet, were Ho Chi Minh sandals. These were rubber sandals made from old truck tires. The tread was the outer face of the sole. It was easier to get Marines to air their feet—as a preventative for warm water immersion foot—if they had sandals.

I still have the NVA belt and hammock I took from a NVA soldier who would never again need either. He was also carrying a set of US wire cutters, still in the original canvas belt pouch, which he had probably taken from a dead ARVN (South Vietnamese) soldier. I still use those.

Other than weapons, we rarely bothered to send the small stuff back for accounting. There was a major problem with pilferage—REMFs would take weapons or other equipment as their own souvenirs. I had personal knowledge of one such instance.

A couple of weeks after I became the S-4, a Marine reported to me as the S-4 clerk. He was actually an honest-to-goodness school-trained 0431 Logistics Clerk.

He joined the rest of the rear echelon as a candidate for the regimental reaction force. Each night, the various units at An Hoa would provide Marines to serve in a reaction force of platoon strength. In essence, the reaction force was the regimental reserve. Many nights, the duty was no more onerous than having to sleep in fighting gear in a bunker in the CP area. But if one of the combat base sectors was penetrated or, heaven forbid, overrun, the reaction force was the outfit that got to do something about it.

Sane was tagged for the reaction force his very first night at An Hoa. It was the night of the final game of the 1969 World Series of which I have already written. One of the Sergeants from S-1 was also on the reaction force that night, and I asked him to keep an eye on my new Marine. Then I headed for Alpha Sector.

When Sane got to Regiment, he was assigned to a squad for the night. The Squad Leader, an experienced Sergeant, told him “You stick with me. kid.”

When Echo Sector was attacked later that night (interrupting the ball game, I might add), Sane's squad was sent down to the line to help push the enemy back. The attack was by a force of NVA sappers (engineers/demolition men), apparently intent upon destroying the guns and ammo supply of Battery E, 11^th Marines.

As Sane and his Sergeant moved down to the wire, a chicom grenade exploded between Sane and the Sergeant. Both were knocked from their feet, and the Sergeant suffered some shrapnel wounds to the head.

As Sane regained his feet, a flare popped overhead. There, standing in the wire, wire cutters at the ready, was an NVA soldier.

“Sergeant,” Sane yelled. “There’s a gook in the wire. What should I do?”

“Kill him.” He did.

The Sergeant then regained his feet and the two of them cleared the wire, taking a couple of satchel charges and the NVA’s weapon. Sane took a really nice bone-handled knife from the dead NVA’s belt.

The next morning, as the troops were being formed to be dismissed and sent back to their commands, a Lieutenant spotted the knife. He took it and walked into the Regimental Commander’s Office where he gave it to the CO, “as a souvenir.”

Fortunately, the Gunny who had been the platoon commander saw what happened. He immediately informed the Sergeant Major.

The Sergeant Major walked right in to the CO’s office, as it was his privilege to do.

“Look, Sergeant Major. Lieutenant ____ gave me this NVA knife. It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir, it surely is. Except it ain’t the Lieutenant’s to give. There’s a young PFC out there who killed the gook that was carrying it. May I return it to him?”

They said you could hear the ass-chewing the Colonel gave that Lieutenant all the way to Hawaii. I don’t remember seeing his sorry ass around the CP after that.

But I know of an even better instance of souvenir retribution.

In early 1969, about the time President Nixon announced his policy of “vietnamization,” a rumor began to spread, and it was apparently also rampant on the other side. The gist of the rumor was that on a particular date, a cease fire would be announced and whichever side’s flag, either Republic of Vietnam or National Liberation Front, flew over a particular ville or hamlet that morning could claim it as theirs.

Tom Peachey told me that shortly thereafter, his company overran a VC flag factory. There were literally hundreds of finished VC flags, and hundreds more that were in various states of completion. After giving each Marine in the Company two completed flags and two unfinished flags, the rest were sent back to Regiment. Now, these were obviously very desirable souvenirs. When Regiment learned that the troops (who had captured them) had been given “first dibs,” Tom was hauled on the carpet. The Regimental S-2 informed him in no uncertain terms that henceforth, any captured “enemy items” would be sent to S-2.

A few days later, one of his patrols captured a small bobcat. It was obviously a belligerent. Recalling the explicit instructions of the S-2, Peaches had the wriggling, spitting, clawing beastie put into a wooden grenade crate and returned to the S-2.

That afternoon, word went out that company commanders could exercise discretion in returning captured materiel to the rear.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

SPOT, THE INVISIBLE DOG

2010-04-02T11:14:00.001-04:00

Beginning in the late 1990’s, in the afterglow of the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the landings in Normandy, the American people re-awakened to the valor of the American fighting man. The motion picture, Saving Private Ryan, with its savagely accurate, bloody 20 minute opening depiction of the landings on Omaha Beach, was a turning point. World War II veterans who had remained silent for decades were finally encouraged to speak about their experiences in what Studs Terkel christened The Good War.

For some time before that, author Steven Ambrose had been collecting oral histories from WWII vets of Company D, Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Regiment (Ox and Bucks) and E/506/101 Airborne, which he then converted into Pegasus Bridge and Band of Brothers .

[Some interesting trivia: On 6 June 1944, Captain Richard Todd, 7th (Light Infantry) Parachute Battalion, dropped in after glider-borne Company D/Ox and Bucks, had landed and captured Pegasus Bridge. In 1962, he appeared in the movie The Longest Day as Major John Howard, Officer Commanding, Company D. Talk about art imitating life.]

After the success of Saving Private Ryan, Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg collaborated to bring Band of Brothers ("BOB") to television with a ten-hour adaptation that aired beginning on September 9, 2001. Unlike “popular” movies about the Vietnam War, including Platoon and Full Metal Jacket, which portrayed the fighting men as either cartoon characters or as stoned murderers and misfits, BOB and Ryan depicted honorable men who did their duty with class. In particular, the dialog in both WWII films caught the native wit and wisdom of the American soldier at war.

After the success of Ryan and BOB, two additional war films were made and distributed that capture the essence of the American warrior: We Were Soldiers (2002), about 1/7/1 Cav in the Battle of the Ia Drang in 1965 and Flags of Our Fathers (2006) about the Battle of Iwo Jima, focusing on the men who were involved in the iconic flag raising on Mount Suribachi. Once again, the writers captured the feel of how soldiers and Marines in combat think and talk to one another.

Finally, in 2010, Spielberg and Hanks produced The Pacific for HBO. This time the focus is the ground war in the Pacific in WWII. Spielberg frankly admits that the impetus for The Pacific was the post-BOB requests from vets of “that other little fracas” on the other side of the globe from France and Germany. And again, the writers have done a good job.

Marines in combat are still young men, young American men, with the wit and repartee that makes them Americans. The dialog in all of the positive films I mention above captures the men I know and served with.

In the second or third episode of BOB (I have loaned out my copy and cannot check), Lieutenant Winters mentions to a fellow platoon commander that “General Taylor is pleased with Easy Company’s performance yesterday.”

His exhausted comrade, leaning against a door frame, mutters sleepily, “That’s why I came to France—to please General Taylor.”

More recently, in The Pacific, on Guadalcanal, after experiencing intense combat and suffering significant casualties, 1st Battalion, 1st Marines has finally gotten mail. Robert Leckie reads a letter from home to his shipmates, including a post script from his father: “Your Mother wants to know if we should send you your dress blue uniform.”

Leckies says, “I guess she thinks we are having a lot of fancy dress balls out here.”

Another Marine says, “If we do, ‘Lucky,’ will you ask me?”

“Nah, you’re too ugly. I’ll ask Hoosier.”

Without missing a beat, Hoosier, who is cleaning his rifle, in a droll drawl says “Take a number.” He never stops working on his weapon.

And that led me to think of some of my Marines.

John Gibson, my radio operator, was a poet and a philosopher—at 18. A radio operator and his officer are inseparable, never further apart than two arms lengths, so that the radio handset can be passed from one to another. They share a fighting hole, chow, and time.

Once, we were discussing our favorite cold beverages, how many we would down when we got “back to the World,” and the relative value of ice.

“You know, Lieutenant, this war is gonna turn out a whole generation of Americans who will go to a backyard barbeque and if somebody drops a ice cube, he’ll pick it up, pop it in his mouth, and never even look to see if anybody’s watching.”

When I was teaching the Law of War at TBS in 1983-85, one teaching point was that the lieutenant must be on the lookout for Marines who are in danger of going over the edge emotionally. I called it “terminal weirdness.”

All Marines in combat are weird. But when someone is terminally weird—cutting ears off bodies or extracting gold teeth from corpses—you need to get him out of their before he does something so seriously wrong that he can end up in the brig.”

To differentiate between weird and terminally weird, I told them about Gibson and Spot.

As I mentioned earlier, the Skipper had a standing order that we were not to adopt dogs as pets, or even play with them. It was an appropriate order; any Marine bitten by a local dog would be evacuated for an obligatory 14 day series of anti-rabies shots.

When we were in the Arizona, and morale was low, Gibby turned to me one afternoon and said, “You know what would perk the guys up, Sir?”

"Please, Gibby, inform me.”

“A dog, Lieutenant. We need a dog.”

“Well, that’s not a bad idea, except that the Skipper has said ‘No.’”

“Oh, I got a way to fix that, Sir. We’ll get an invisible dog that only Charlie 3 can see.”

For the next couple of hours, he walked around the perimeter, taking “Spot” for a walk. Most of the troops from Third Platoon played along. Then a runner came from the CP. “Skipper wants you, Sir.”
I reported to the Company Commander. He was stirring a can of C-rats over a home-made C-4 stove.

“What the hell is with your radio operator?”

“Sir?”

“The Gunny is ready to kill him. He was talking to my radio operator and all of a sudden he yells ‘Gunny, look out!’ The Gunny almost broke his neck taking cover. Gibson says, ‘You almost stepped on Spot, Gunny.’ I don’t think the Gunny caught him yet, but you better keep him out of sight for a day or two. Fix this!”

I walked back to my hole. Gibson was in the hole, laying low so to speak.

“We got to get rid of Spot.”

“Why, Sir? The guys like him.”

What now, Lieutenant? “Ah, the Skipper is worried that because no one else can see him, he might get hurt.” That ought to do it.

“Oh, I can fix that.” He jumped up and headed for the bomb crater that we were using as a trash pit. A few minutes later, he returned holding what appeared to be a leash. He had scrounged some parachute cord and then stiffened it with baling wire from a couple of C-ration cases. There was a loop for a collar and another as a handle.

“Now that I got him under control, he’ll be safe!”

At TBS, I would end the story by saying, “Gibson was weird, but not terminally weird. See the difference?”

It was a popular parable, but the class that took it most to heart was the last group I taught, Warrant Officer Basic Course 1-85. Warrant Officers are enlisted men who have been selected by a board convened by the Commandant. They tend to have some technical specialty and are appointed to fill the need for officers in that specialty without using up a slot for a commissioned officer. (Warrant Officers in the grade of W-1 are “appointed" officers; Chief Warrant Officers 2 through 5 are commissioned.)

When they were about to graduate, they presented me with a photograph taken during one of my last classes with them. As I was about to finish, the classroom became exceptionally tense. Suddenly there was movement to my left rear. I spun, to see a Warrant Officer, wearing “bug-eyed” glasses and carrying a very reasonable facsimile of Spot’s leash. The rest of the class was on its feet, cheering.

I still have and treasure that photo.

2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

“I’M CLEAN, I’M CLEAN.”

2010-03-31T12:06:00.011-04:00

The S-4 shop was located in a prefabricated bunker at the top of the battalion street, where it joined the regimental street. Prefab bunkers were designed to be erected quickly. They were above ground, a real benefit in the rainy seasons. The standard prefab bunker was made of 12 x12 posts and beams, sheathed in 2 x 12 boards on the walls and roof. The floor was plywood. The bunker was 12 feet by 20 feet. Ours was a double wide (24 x 20), which we shared with the S-3 shop. It was then protected by a wall of sandbags that was 6 feet thick on the sides. At the roof level, there were three layers of sand bags, a layer of steel runway matting, another 3 layers of sandbags, another layer of matting and a final 3 layers of sand bags. I was told that there were some 25,000 sandbags on and around this one bunker.

We felt that we were fairly secure from mortars and rockets.

One afternoon, a couple of Marines from Bravo Company walked in. “Sir, our CO told us to bring this to you.”

He proffered a steel tube that looked strangely familiar. “What is that?”

“It’s a blooper barrel, Sir.”

Oh, yeah. The M-79 40mm grenade launcher was one of the weapons carried by a rifle squad. It was nick-named “the blooper” because of the sound it made when fired. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“He says it needs to be cleared, Lieutenant.”

I looked down the muzzle, expecting to see light. Nope! There was a high explosive round stuck half way down the barrel. “Clear the bunker, dammit! Call EOD.” I very gently put the barrel on the deck and beat a hasty retreat. All I could think of was the terrible effect an explosion would have had confined inside our little fortress.

The EOD techs arrived and nonchalantly took the tube away. (Because the round would not arm until it had spun a significant number of times, it was probably safe, but I was short.)

Marines. Ya gotta love ‘em.

As vietnamization continued, it was becoming clear that the leadership of the Marine Corps was looking to the day when we would all be out of country.

General Leonard F. Chapman, USMC, had assumed the Commandancy in 1968. Among the many things this great leader of Marines did in his tenure was to prepare the Corps for the end of the war. Having served in WWII and Korea, he was familiar with the pains of a post-war reduction in personnel and funding. As a result of plans and policies he put into place, the Marine Corps did not suffer the Army’s angst in the mid-70s when it forced officers to resign or retire as part of a reduction in force.

Even in 1969, it was apparent that we were returning to a peace-time mentality—at least in the area of logistics. The embarkation conference in Danang in August was but one harbinger of new times. We began to see requirements that we account for the equipment that had been sent to the battalion.

Now, I do not mean to suggest that there was any malfeasance involved. It is just that in wartime, supply accounting can get a little loose. When a man is killed or wounded, his shattered helmet or torn flak jacket may be discarded and never returned to supply for proper accounting. Things get blown up or are lost in the confusion of battle, or just wear out. Very understandable.

Of course, rifles were another matter. A Marine’s rifle either went on the med-evac bird with him, for collection at the receiving medical facility, or it stayed with the unit and was returned to the armory. Even so, rifles were sometimes informally exchanged in the field, and the paperwork might not catch up. When I checked out of the battalion, I turned in the pistol that I had been issued in December 1968.

“Uh, Lieutenant, there’s a problem with your pistol,” the Armorer said.

“Really? What’s wrong?”

“Well, Sir. It’s got the same serial number as the one you checked out. That just don’t happen much, ya know?”

At any rate, word filtered down from Division G-4 that we should begin looking at our supply accounts and getting them into some semblance of order and accuracy. You can imagine how that might go over in a rifle company in the field. Here you are, a Company Commander, in contact with the enemy, trying to accomplish your mission and keep your troops alive, and some REMF wants a list of the serial numbers of all of your weapons. More than once I was told to “be fruitful and multiply.” Or words to that effect.

Two particular incidents stand out.

During the eight days in the rain, the company providing the palace guard was attempting to move. As part of a field test of equipment, the battalion had been assigned a small tracked vehicle that was being considered as a replacement for the mule. Approaching a stream that was now a surging river, the company commander halted.

“Musk ox, this is Charlie 6, over.”

“Musk ox Charlie 6, Musk ox.”

“Musk ox, I need to speak to the 3, over.”

“Charlie 6, this is Musk ox 3, over.”

“Three, this is Charlie 6. We are at the west bank of the stream. The vehicle commander does not think he can cross the stream. He says the banks are too steep.”

“Charlie 6, this is Musk ox 3. Nonsense. He can make it. Now cross that stream.”

There was a pause of about two minutes. “Musk ox 3, this is Charlie 6. At this point, the stream is 18 feet deep. I can tell that because the vehicle’s antenna is 20 feet tall, and I can see about two feet of it above water.”

“Charlie 6, this is Musk ox 3. Damn!” No one was hurt, but the vehicle was gone.

But that is not the end of the story. A couple of weeks later, the officer assigned to do the JAG Manual investigation into the loss—a routine affair that every lieutenant has performed at one time or another—came to see me.

“I know why the vehicle sank,” he proudly announced.

“Hell, we all know that. The banks were too steep and when it hit the water, it just kept going.”

“Nah, Mac, there’s more. It was overloaded.”

“Oh, yeah? By how much?”

“Well, as near as I can tell, by about 70,000 pounds!”

Thirty-five tons? Not bad for a vehicle with a capacity of three-quarters of a ton. It seems that every piece of gear assigned to Charlie Company and the Command Post group that could not be accounted for “must have gone down on that vehicle.” And who could argue?

A couple of days later, at about 1645, I was preparing to go over to the mess hall for supper. It had been dry and windy for a couple of days, and the regimental street was already dusty. Suddenly, in the distance, I heard a familiar ker-ruuump of a mortar round detonating. One of the batteries must be adjusting its pre-planned fires.

Ker-ruuuump. KER-rummmp. KER-RUUUUMP. WHAMMM. BLANG. I was huddled on the deck in the bunker as five more 120mm mortar rounds walked across An Hoa. The fifth round sounded as if it exploded right outside the bunker and the last was behind us.

I ran to the back entrance of the bunker that led to our police shed and paint locker. There was a towering plume of smoke just beyond the police shed. Two Marines were standing on the sandbagged roof of the police shed, taking pictures. I could hear smalls arm ammunition cooking off and an occasional round passing overhead.

“Get down , you damn fools, before you get shot.” They did. “Now, get some buckets from the police shed and follow me.”

We moved cautiously over to 3/5’s area. The battalion armory, located in a strong-back tent, had taken a direct hit and was now a raging inferno. The battalion Supply Chief, who I knew, was shouting for people to stand clear.

“They are all OK. They went to early chow. I was covering the armory. There’s no one inside.” He was discouraging anyone from taking unnecessary risks by trying to rescue the armorers. We had lucked out.

Just then, 3/5’s Supply Officer came running up. He was a mustang First Lieutenant (an officer commissioned from the enlisted ranks). He took one look and then turned and ran into his office. A minute or two later, he came back out carrying a drawer from a filing cabinet.

A couple of his clerks followed, similarly laden.

He ran over and tossed the complete drawer into the blazing armory. Turning, he took another drawer from a Marine’s arms and sent him back for more. Into the fire went drawer after drawer of records, followed by the empty file cabinets.

All the while, I could hear him gleefully shouting “I’m clean! I’m clean!”

Happily, no one was killed or wounded by the mortar attack. Three-five’s armory was the only structure hit and was, of course, a total loss, but the fire did not spread. After the “tragic” loss of all of 3/5’s supply records which, as the JAG Manual investigation revealed, “were stored in the armory for security,” 3/5 did a wall-to-wall inventory and reconstructed its records to reflect only the supplies and equipment that were then on hand.

Clean as a whistle. “Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.” Henry VI, Pt. 3, act II, sc 5.

The Bard must have been a logistician.

A SINNER SAVED BY GRACE

2010-03-30T10:10:00.005-04:00

One of the functions that came under the purview of the S-4 was supply and armory. By Table of Organization, we were supposed to have a Supply Officer (MOS 3002), but we did not. Eventually, Mike Koch took over as Supply Officer until our rotation, but for most of my tour as S-4, the Supply Chief was acting Supply Officer and I signed any returns that required the signature of an officer.

The next senior NCO in the supply section was Sergeant Henderson. He had 19 years in the Corps and had just been promoted to Sergeant when he joined us. Sergeant Henderson was a very good sergeant, having been promoted to that rank six or seven times in his career! He was a sinner saved by Grace. . . or Susie, or Sally, or, in a Staff Sergeant Winston classic phrasing, “Scuzzy Maryann.”

The high point of the day was the arrival of the morning supply convoy from Danang. (When we heard the trucks of the convoy pull up, I always thought of “The Wells Fargo Wagon Is A-comin’” from The Music Man. Maybe they’ll have something for me!)

A word about supply. In addition to being the site of the Division Headquarters, Danang also hosted Headquarters, III Marine Amphibious Force (the senior Marine Corps Command in Vietnam , consisting of 1st Marine Division, 3d Marine Division, 1st Marine Aircraft Wing, and Force Logistics Command), Danang Air Force Base (a huge Air Force complex), Marine Corps Air Station Marble Mountain, Naval Support Activity, and a number of Army logistics units.

Force Logistics Command (FLC) was based at Camp Brooks located on the South China Sea at Red Beach just outside of Danang proper. It was a massive base, providing any logistics requirement of the III MAF and, for a time, major Army units operating in I Corps. A list of its subordinate units gives a broad example of its capabilities: 1st and 3d Military Police Battalions, 7th Motor Transport Battalion, 5th Communications Battalion, 1st and 3d Service Battalions, 1st and 3d Shore Party Battalions, 1st Supply Battalion, 1st Medical Battalion, 1st Hospital Company, 1st Force Service Regiment (Maintenance Battalion, Supply Battalion), and H&S Battalion.

Maintenance Battalion, 1st FSR had several maintenance companies, including Motor Transport Maintenance, Ordnance Maintenance, Engineer Maintenance, Communications/Electronic Maintenance, and Supply Maintenance companies. Supply Battalion also had several companies organized by commodity: 7th Separate Bulk Fuel Company, Ration Company, Ammunition Company, and the Force Bakery.

If you needed something or needed something fixed—from a typewriter or a torn canvas tent to a complex piece of electronics—FLC could provide it or fix it.

The first time I visited Red Beach, I was stunned. There were miles and miles of warehouses, repair shops, strong-back barracks, and open supply storage lots. The centerpiece of FLC was the “RUC” line.

A “RUC” is a five digit “reporting unit code” assigned to each company, battalion, and Division in the Corps. For instance (as I recall) 15130 was Charlie Company. “1” (1stMarDiv) “5” (5th Marines) “1” (1/5) “3” (Company C) and “0” as a place holder. Battalion was 15100. Supply Section of H&S Company would use that place holder (15101) while Comm Platoon might be 15102. The RUC was used for personnel reporting and also for supply accounting.

At Red Beach, the RUC line was made up of several long rows of open platforms covered by a roof. Each row might be 300 meters long (3 football fields), for there were lots of supplies going to lots of units. Supplies and equipment which arrived had been marked with the requesting unit’s RUC when they were shipped from the US. Upon arrival, they were moved to the RUC line. At regular intervals, a sign was hung with each unit’s RUC painted on it, and newly received supplies were placed under the appropriate sign. When convoys were formed to move supplies, anything that had come in for a unit at the convoy destination was moved from the RUC line to the truck.

One morning,Sergeant Henderson came into my office. “I’m heading up to Danang, Lieutenant.”

“Danang? What are you doing up there?”

“Doncha remember, Sir? This afternoon is my court-martial.” I did remember. On a recent supply run to Danang he had made what was euphemistically called a “skivvy run” to an off-limits house of ill-repute. He had been picked up by the MPs and charges were filed and referred to a Summary Court-Martial.

A summary court was a one-officer court which tried offenses that were deemed minor, but which might warrant confinement or a greater reduction in rank than could be imposed by a company commander or battalion commander at non-judicial punishment under Article 15, UCMJ. In this case, the Sergeant was facing the possibility of reduction to Corporal, 30 days confinement at hard labor, and forfeiture of two-thirds of one month’s pay.

I wished him good luck.

Late that afternoon, he called. “Hi, Lieutenant, it’s me, Corporal Henderson.” He reported that his only punishment was reduction to Corporal. “It’s too late to get back tonight. Tomorrow,I'm going over to FLC to check out the RUC line and then I’ll come down on the convoy.”

About 1400 the next day, the convoy arrived. Trucks turned out of the line to their unit destinations, and one pulled up right outside the S-4 bunker. In came our newest corporal.

“Hey, Sir. C’mon out. We got some good stuff today.”

As I walked out through the six-foot thick layer of sandbags that surrounded our bunker, I could hear the sounds of boxes, crates and bags being off-loaded. One man in the working party was opening several wooden crates. Corporal Henderson walked over to one and pulled off the lid.

“Happy Birthday, Lieutenant!” It was a brand new 60 mm mortar, complete. We had been begging for several and now here one was. He pointed to three other boxes—three more 60 mm mortars, one for each rifle company. Godallmightydamn!

Then I noticed the crate lid. The RUC stenciled on the wood was 17200, 2/7’s RUC. I checked—nowhere did I find a 1/5 RUC. I called this minor discrepancy to the Corporal’s attention.

“Well, hell, Lieutenant.” He was exasperated. “ I said I was gonna check out the RUC line. I never said I was gonna limit myself to ours!”

The Old Man signed his meritorious promotion to Sergeant that afternoon. Grace is a good ol’ gal she is.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

SCENES ON THE REGIMENTAL STREET: Mud, Mirth, and A Vision Of Grace

2010-03-29T08:48:00.008-04:00

By now, the Autumn rains had really set in and An Hoa was a sea of mud. For those of us who used the Vietnamese laundry on base, we noticed that our “clean” clothing came back with the unique odor that came from being dried over a water buffalo dung fire.

Knee-high rubber boots, just like my Dad and Granddad had worn in the feed lot on the farm, were the footwear of choice. The mud was often so deep that it nearly topped the boots.

The shower point continued to operate, opening from 1900 to 2000 each night. To keep our clothing clean and dry, it was not uncommon to see Marines walking to the shower point clad only in rubber boots, flak jacket, and helmet, carrying a towel in one hand and a rifle in the other.

And it was cold. Now, that means that the temperatures had plummeted into the low 70s, but that was a 20 to 30 degree drop. One Marine in the Comm Platoon wrote home to tell his Mom that he was cold. She immediately sent him a ski jacket. He wore it everywhere.

The problem was that it was an electric, almost fluorescent, blue. Now, An Hoa and its environs was done in shades of green, reddish brown and grey. That electric blue jacket was visible for miles! You could always tell where that Marine was because there was a big empty circle around him. If he wanted to be a target, no one wanted to be close.

* * * * *

The Regimental Sergeant Major hated the “bush cover,” an item that tended to replace the standard utility cover. The utility cover had been Marine Corps issue since at least WWII. It was cut very similarly to a railroad engineer’s cap. The bush cover, on the other hand, was a floppy hat that had a 360° degree brim. It could be turned up on the sides like a cowboy hat, pushed up in front like a cavalryman’s hat, worn with the front brim down and the rear brim up, like a fedora, or with the brim pulled down all around. And the Sergeant Major hated it.

There was a regimental policy that forbade wearing the bush cover in An Hoa, and when the Sergeant Major found someone wearing one, he had his revenge. Outside the CP bunker, he had erected a scarlet and gold board labeled “Sergeant Major’s Funny Hat Board.” The miscreant would be marched to the board, handed a hammer and nail, and ordered to nail his bush cover to the board.

The policy was not popular, and troops quickly learned to duck out of the Sergeant Major’s sight.

One evening, I was walking back from chow with another lieutenant. From our left and about 20 meters in front of us, a Marine turned onto the regimental street from the road to the LZ. He was obviously just in from the bush. He was muddy, wore a large ruck sack, carried his helmet in his free hand, and wore his bush cover in the “cavalryman” style. He was clearly tired, walking with his head down, green towel wrapped around his neck.

Suddenly, from our right and about 10 meters behind the Marine, the Sergeant Major entered the street. He made a beeline for the Marines. Getting right up behind the man, the Sergeant Major snatched the bush cover from the Marine’s head.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Marine.”

The Marine turned. On the pocket of his flak jacket, he wore the silver leaf of a lieutenant colonel. (We did not wear collar insignia of rank in the bush—it made for an inviting target. In “garrison areas” the practice was to wear one piece of insignia on the flak jacket pocket.)

“Uh, Sergeant Major. I think I’m Lieutenant Colonel ________. Seventh Marines. May I have my cover back, please?”

The Sergeant Major turned as scarlet as his funny hat board. Muttering apologies, he returned the cover, and directed the Colonel to the Regimental S-3 shop, as requested.

Then, turning and seeing the two of us, grinning, he said, “Not one word, Lieutenants, not one [universal modifier] word.”

We didn’t have to say anything. The troops who had witnessed this little morality play had had the sense to duck for cover. The story was all over the base in minutes.

* * * * *

The life we lived was primitive and much like that lived by our ancestors in a frontier town. One day was much like the next. Anything new or out of the ordinary was interesting.

One afternoon, I was walking across the regimental street to the S-4 shop when a mechanical mule sputtered by. Also on the street was a war dog handler and his dog, a German Shepherd. The dog was on a lead, but when the mule drove by, he almost pulled his handler off his feet. Barking, snarling, dancing around, the dog was lunging for the mule.

“Stop that goddam mule,” the handler shouted. The driver stopped.

The handler reached down and loosed his dog. Fido raced to the idling mule, snarling and slobbering. He latched onto the rail of the vehicle and began to shake it.

The handler waited a minute or two and then ambled over. Folding the canvas lead into a short bunch, he smacked the dog between the ears. The dog quieted and sat.

“All right stupid,” the handler said. “You caught it. Now what are you gonna do with it?”

The dog just looked at him. “OK, man. Thanks, you can go.” The mule driver put it back into gear and chugged off. The dog just sat there.

Over the ensuing 40 years, there have been times when I have been tempted. Then, through God's unfathomable grace, I have felt the "stupid smack" that Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and we fathers of a certain age know so well and His voice saying "OK, Stupid. If you caught it, what would you do with it?”

I sometimes think that that is just another way of saying “Lead us not into temptation.”

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

30 DAYS AND A WAKE UP

2010-03-27T19:45:00.010-04:00

And with the stroke of a pen, I became a short-timer. I do not believe that anyone who has not served in a war with set “tours of duty,” such as Vietnam and the current unpleasantness in Iraq and Afghanistan, can understand the fixation that one develops on the calendar. When I first went to the bush in December 1968, I listed the months on my helmet cover.

Thereafter, on the last day of the month, when the midnight time check was called, I would have a personal ceremony of checking off that month.

Troops carried short-timer calendars for their last 100 days, usually in the shapely shape of a well endowed young lady. There were numbered segments within the outline, one to be colored in each day. I will leave to your imagination the placement of the last three spots.

Counting the days was also a routine, although no one really started until the last 30 days. There were rules. You did not count the day you were in and the final day was “a wake up.” Therefore, on 17 November, I could say “I’ve got 30 and a wake up.” When you got into single digits, you were “so short, you could sit on the edge of a dime and dangle your legs.”

At the same time, the final 30 days was one of the two most dangerous times in country. The first 30 days, you were so green that you were a danger to yourself and others. The last 30 days, there was the danger of getting a “short-timer mentality.” In other words, there was a tendency to loosen up, to think Hey, I’ve got this knocked.

For that reason, at least in 1/5, we tried to send Marines back to the rear when they hit 30 days. They would stand lines and work in working parties. There was still the danger of rockets and mortars, but it was not as dangerous as the bush. Most of the time.

We had a Marine who extended his tour of duty for six months. This is not as strange as it sounds. If an enlisted Marine returned to the States with less than 6 months remaining on his enlistment, the Marine Corps had begun to offer early discharges, thus avoiding the cost of moving a Marine to a new duty station and then moving him again on discharge.

A lot of Marines who would have gotten to CONUS with 11 months left on their enlistment would extend so that on return, they could be discharged. To sweeten the pot, the Corps offered a Marine who extended a “free” 30 day leave (not charged against his leave balance) anywhere in the world, a choice of a new Military Occupational Specialty, and promotion.

One of our Corporals who had joined the battalion in Hue City during Tet 1968 extended. He was an 0311 (rifleman)and had completed his 13 month tour without a scratch, a real accomplishment for a veteran of Tet. He took his 30 days in the States and then returned to the battalion as a Sergeant with an 01 MOS (clerical). He was assigned to Headquarters & Service Company.

Shortly after his return, while serving as Sergeant of the Guard in our defense sector, he was wounded by shrapnel from an 82mm mortar. He was in the hospital for three days. About a week later, he was once again wounded by shrapnel, but this time his wounds did not require hospitalization. He was awarded a Purple Heart for each wound.

Another policy in effect was for wounds received in action. If a Marine received two Purple Hearts that required hospitalization in excess of 48 hours, he was immediately shipped out of country. Likewise, three Purple Hearts, whether requiring hospitalization or not, were a ticket out.

Finally, at 1145 on 15 May 1969, nine NVA 122 mm rockets landed in the battalion street. Miraculously, there was no one in the street at the time, but the area was peppered with shrapnel. (When I came in from the bush in June, in the BOQ tent, someone had circled every shrapnel hole and dated it. There were 57 holes labeled “15 May.” There were two tents between the street and the BOQ!)

As soon as the first rocket hit, everyone in the various company offices along the street headed for the sandbagged bunkers built at each end of the tents. All through An Hoa, Marines took cover. . . except for a bunch of crazy young motor transport Marines who fired up their mechanical mules and raced towards the impact area, looking for casualties.

The M274 4x4 "Mechanical Mule" was a half-ton utility vehicle used by the Army and Marine Corps all through the Vietnam War. It had a flat rectangular bed, surrounded by a raised rail. It was powered by 4 cylinder, 4 cycle engine started with a pull cord (like a lawn mower motor) and had a top speed of about 20 mph. It weighed about 900 pounds, and could carry 1000 pounds, hence the name.

On 15 May, as the Marines of H&S Company climbed out of their bunker, they found the Sergeant slumped over his typewriter. There was a shrapnel entry wound in the back of his head that exited through the right temple. Initially, they thought he was dead, but one Marine who rushed to him realized that he was still breathing. Another Marine took off his sweaty T-shirt, and they wrapped the Sergeant’s head.

About that time, a mule pulled up, and a couple of the clerks carried the Sergeant out to the Mule. Off they went, bouncing down the street, headed for the LZ. A couple of Corpsmen were triaging wounded in the Zone, and they immediately put the Sergeant on a Huey and off he went to NSA Hospital in Danang.

Eight weeks later, the Sergeant walked out of Naval Hospital, Philadelphia, a little unsteady on his feet, and exhibiting the signs of a serious head injury. But he knew his family and could speak, and function.

He should have been dead from the impact. When that didn’t kill him, the wound should have become infected from the T-shirt. Some men, God just isn’t ready for them when the world would assume He is!

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

THE NATIONAL MOOD

2010-03-26T17:44:00.007-04:00

The mood of the Republic is stark.

This mood change began with a 15 month long debate over a health care bill that will do nothing to improve the quality or reduce the cost of health care in America. Next, the plan proposed by the Democratic Party is opposed by an overwhelming majority of the citizenry. To gain passage, the legislative leadership of the Democratic Party had to employ secrecy in its writing, liberal use of pork and political coercion to get enough votes for passage, and feats of parliamentary legerdemain to permit its proponents to deny that they had supported it.

Mainly,however,the plan adopted promises a radical shift in the constitutional understanding of the Nation. And the people are angry.

The anger and polarization have given me pause. The fear and resentment of the national government is the worst it has been in 150 years. And it has been directed against members of both parties.

Why now and why this issue?

Think about it. One hundred fifty years ago, the Nation divided over an issue of constitutional interpretation. I have heard it said that the Civil War was fought over the conjugation of a verb.

“What verb,” you ask? “To be!”

You see, until 1860, the proper conjugation was “The United States are….” By 1865, the proper conjugation was “The United States is….” The shift of power from the States to Washington was a radical departure from the original constitutional intent. The idea that a federal government could dictate to the states was unsettling to many and frightening to most of those.

The Constitution crafted by the Framers in Philadelphia was one of limited federal powers, with all other power vested in the States or the people. But by 1860, the Nation had divided principally along geographic lines over the issue of slavery. One group demanded a federal resolution, the Constitution be damned.

The subsequent debate was a bloody one.

Much as we have recently seen, positions hardened, and States, towns, and even families were split over the issue of whether the Northern States could summarily force the Southern States to abolish slavery. Even prior to December 1860, neighbors were often pitted against neighbors over a single question: “Should the citizens of one block of States be able to force the citizens of another group of States to conform to the will of ‘the Northern majority’?” The debate was heated. In Congress, debates became physical. The most famous occurred when Congressman Preston Brooks (D.S.C.) rushed onto the floor of the Senate and beat Senator Charles Sumner (R. Mass.) senseless.

In “bleeding Kansas,” the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854 left up to the electorate the decision of whether Kansas should enter the Union as a free or a slave State. In 1856, a pro-slavery group entered the town of Lawrence, burned the Free-State Hotel and destroyed the equipment of two abolitionist newspapers.

Three days later, a group of abolitionists led by John Brown responded by killing five pro-slavery settlers north of Pottawatomie Creek. Thereafter, one of Brown’s nicknames was “Pottawatomie” Brown.

Brown escaped from Kansas and led his infamous raid on the United States Arsenal at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia in 1859. His aim was to arm slaves and to promote a general insurrection by freed slaves against the governments of the southern States. His raid failed and he was hanged, but to many in the North, he was a hero.

The ultimate result was the Civil War, which decided the issue by force of arms.

In the ensuing 150 years, the federal government has assumed many powers that to the Framers would have been unimaginable. The idea that there would be a federal Department of Education would have been laughable; local control over education preceded the Constitution as evidenced by the Northwest Ordinance of 1787. That the Congress in Washington and the Executive branch could regulate intimate issues of personal liberty through a “Department of Human Services” would have been unthinkable; those were the very services that were provided by local churches and other charities—groups in the best position to determine who was truly needy as opposed to simply lazy.

But the recent sea change in our constitutional understanding is so stark that it has again polarized the citizenry. Not even the shift to “big government” starting in FDR’s New Deal was as traumatic as the blatant power grab by the Democratic Party in the health care bill.

The New Deal legislation introduced the modern welfare state to America, but at least it promised provision of semi-uniform services in return for the taxes that the people, through their Congress, permitted. “Social Security” was thought to be a “bought and paid for” benefit, even though a similar private plan would have been prosecuted as a Ponzi scheme. The power assumed by the Courts to redraw school district lines was understood to be temporary to address an ill that the majority Americans were at least willing to recognize.

But when Nancy Pelosi and her cabal assert that the only reason that people detest the bill is that they are incapable of understanding what is best for them, the people tremble. This new Act is proof of the old adage, that you can put lipstick and a dress on a pig…..but it is still a pig. Its declaration of power to force citizens to purchase a product they do not want and may not need "for their own good", and the other provisions which are merely a Marxian redistribution of wealth dressed up in kumbaya language, are alien to the understood right of all Americans to be left alone. Particularly the right to be left alone by their government.

So the National mood is understandable.

Now, I do not suggest that a second civil war is imminent. The Country is divided politically and philosophically, not geographically. Still, when those who expected all sorts of free medical care learn that all that has happened is that the Federal government has put the health care insurance industry out of business, when development of technology and drugs remains as costly as ever, requiring ever-increasing taxes, who can tell?

I do find alarming the renewed focus of government on limiting or even repealing the Second Amendment. Perhaps they know more than we do.

CHRISTMAS COMES EARLY

2010-03-25T07:00:00.006-04:00

From the initial landings by the 9th Marines in March 1965, the tour of duty for Marines in Vietnam was 13 months. Every Marine knew his “RTD” or “rotation tour date.” Starting with the date that he left CONUS (Continental United States), the RTD was 13 months later. Thus, when I left California on 18 December 1968, I knew that the latest date on which I would return to the States was 13 months later or 18 January 1970.

For those of us who had come in country in mid-December, 1968, that meant that we would “celebrate” two Christmases in Vietnam. Tom Pottenger, Mike Koch, and I were already trying to figure out how we could get to Danang for Christmas, 1969.

The Army and Air Force had a prescribed tour of 12 months. The history of this difference started with the way in which the pre-war 3d Marine Division (minus) was manned up. After Korea and before deploying to Vietnam, the 3d MarDiv was based in Okinawa. It had only two regiments, the 3d Marines and the 9th Marines. (Its third infantry regiment, the 4th Marines, was based in Hawaii as the ground combat element of the 1st Marine Brigade. When the Division deployed to Vietnam, the Brigade moved in country and was once again melded into its parent Division.)

Because of the limited training space in Okinawa, the pre war practice was for a battalion to form in the 1st Marine Division in Camp Pendleton, California. A cadre of experienced officers and NCOs would receive a draft of younger Marines, form them into a battalion, and undertake a rigorous 6 month period of training. Let us use 1/5 as an example.

On 1 January, 1/5 would begin receiving its troops. By 15 January, the battalion would be fully manned and organized. Company Commanders would begin a period of training dedicated to individual tactics and would then progress to fire team tactics, squad tactics, platoon tactics, and company tactics. The troops would spend most of their time in the field and on live firing ranges. Weapons platoons would work on gun drill and on live firing on the 1000 inch range and on full distance ranges.

Finally, there would be a time for training as a battalion. The troops would go to the rifle and pistol ranges to requalify, there would be a series of physical fitness tests, and each Marine would undergo swim qualification. The "lock on" training would end with a formal inspection by the Commanding General and a final graded field exercise.

During this time, the training schedule was full. Married men would report for formation at 0530 on a Monday. The battalion would move to the field, returning to garrison late on Friday. Saturday morning was dedicated to inspections and administration. Liberty call would be sounded after the Noon formation on Saturday, to expire on board at 0530 on Monday, when everything would start again.

Following our hypothetical schedule, on 15 May, 1/5 would board ship for a two week cruise to Okinawa. The battalion would remain in Okinawa for 12 months and then take a return cruise to California, arriving circa 15 June of the next year, 13 months after deployment. (On the way outbound, in mid-Pacific, it would pass the eastbound battalion it was replacing, let us say 2/9. As that happened, the westbound 1/5 would be re-designated as 2/9 and for the east bound unit, vice versa, preserving regimental integrity.)

Although replacements for the 1st and 3d Marine Divisions in Vietnam were flown in, no change in tour length was adopted. I do believe that, at its core, the Corps is presbyterian. The default position for the Corps was to “do it the way we have always done it.” (There was a slogan popular amongst the troops and junior officers: The Marine Corps—200 years of tradition unhindered by progress! ) Thus the 13 month tour was the norm.

With the advent of Vietnamization, a minor ground swell developed as parents and families of Marines began to contact their representatives in Congress. “Why is my neighbor’s doggie son home in 12 months, but my Marine has to stay for 13 months?”

Right after the 1969 Birthday, a rumor began to circulate that the Marine Corps was cutting the tour to 12 months. However, no official word was received.

One day, I received a letter from my brother. “We are so excited that you will be home before Christmas. With the wedding rescheduled to December 27, I am trying to change your reservations in New Orleans.” Huh? I had said nothing to anyone about any possible change.

The next morning, I went over to the MARS station to make a call to the States. In the medieval times before cell and satellite communications, e-mail and Facebook, MARS— the Military Affiliate Radio Service—was a collection of State-side ham radio operators. In Vietnam, volunteers from communications sections would man a shortwave radio. A user would place a phone call which was transmitted to the States. There, a MARS volunteer would make a collect long-distance call to the destination and patch the call through.

Although we were used to voice radio and communication security procedure, it was confusing to our families, but it was the only way to speak with them directly.

I waited all day. Finally, at about 1600 (3 am in Illinois) they put me through.

Maryann (MA): “Michael, is that you? Where are you?

Radio Operator (RO): After a long pause “Ma’am, when you are done speaking, you must say ‘Over.’”

MA: “Oh. Over.”

“I’m in Vietnam. When are we getting married, over?”

MA: “But where are you? Oh, it is so good to hear your voice.”

RO: After another long pause “Ma’am, when you are done speaking, you gotta say ‘Over.’”

MA: “Oh. Over.”

Damn it, I’ve only got 5 minutes! “Listen to me. When are we getting married, over?”

MA: “I can’t believe it’s really you. Where are you. Are you OK? [pause] Uh, over.”

RO: “Ma’am, he can’t say where he is, over.”

“When are we getting married? Have you rescheduled the wedding? Why? Over.”

MA: “On December 27th. Didn’t you get my letter?” Well, obviously not!

RO: “Ma’am, you really gotta say ‘Over.’”

MA: “Oh. Over.”

“No, I didn’t. Look, we are out of time. I’ll write. I love you, over.” The connection was broken.

When I got back to the S-4 shop, Maryann's letter was waiting. Enclosed was a newspaper article announcing that the Marine Corps had cut the tour to 12 months. I raced down to tell Pottenger that we were officially short-timers. From there, we went over to the Supply office to tell Mike who was now the Supply Officer.

We were going home. Christmas had come early.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

OF BIRTHDAY CAKES AND RIFLES

2010-03-24T08:46:00.003-04:00

In early November, the Battalion once again returned to the Arizona. The reinforcements we had received really helped, and there was no need this time for the provisional rifle company.

We also received word that as Vietnamization got moving, areas of responsibility for those units left would be changing. In December, 1/5 was to move its forward CP to Hill 65, located north of the Song Vu Gia.

But first, there was the Birthday.

The Marine Corps Birthday is the Day, and it matters not where you are, you mark it. Along with every other S-4 in the Marine Corps, I arranged for the companies to get a hot meal (steak, baked potatoes, vegetables) and a Birthday Cake. After I was sure that they had been sent out, I caught a chopper to Hill 65. Delta Battery was there and Dick Rollins was Battery XO. I got a look at the place and then Dick and I had our Birthday dinner. After dark, he found a couple of bottles of wine and we sat on a bunker on the east side of the hill, looking down into a rice paddy where an ARVN unit was engaged in a firefight that lasted for about an hour.

I was also monitoring the battalion tactical net. At about 2100, Jim Webb called the Old Man on the radio. Delta was the palace guard at the time. “Hey, Sir,” Webb said. “Look up.”

Almost immediately, a ring of 12 60mm flares popped around their position. “Happy Birthday, Sir. We just lit the candles on the cake.”

I returned to An Hoa the next day. A couple of days passed. At about 0200, one morning, I was called across the road to the Regimental S-4 shop.

“OK, Lad,” said a grim-faced Major Castagnetti. “I knew this was going to bite you in the ass. We just got word from Division that they need to send excess rifles to the South Vietnamese. This comes from the White House. We need those rifles back, and we need them within the next 24 hours.”

Damn! (Pronounced "die-yum!")

I went straight to the battalion comm shack and called the Old Man. He was not pleased, but after talking to the Regimental Commander, he cooled off—a little. By then, I had the armorer on the job and the Supply Section was busy confirming just how many of our rifles were “excess.”

In the next 24 hours, we exchanged a number of rifles for .45 pistols, and Regiment was mollified, but it was exciting. Major Castagnetti, bless his heart, never actually said the words “I told you so,” but I got the message loud and clear.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

WET AND MISERABLE 101: A GOURMET'S DELIGHT

2010-03-23T09:12:00.007-04:00

And the rains came. The fall rainy season kicked in and the Seabees learned that their low water bridge at Liberty Bridge worked. It was under water, but it easily withstood the flow and force of the water.

At the end of September, the XO called me to his office. “One Company can’t spare an officer to be its pay officer this month, so I’m sending you.”

Actually, they had a regular complement of officers, but they had a new CO who was unsure of himself and needed the “security blanket” of having all his officers in the bush. Well, great. Let’s give the bastards one more shot at the kid! “Aye, aye, Sir.”

I’m sure the platoon commanders were disappointed, too. Being pay officer once every three or four months was a little respite because invariably, between the 20th of the month when the payroll was distributed and the 30th (payday), somebody was going to be medevac-ed to Danang.

The pay process worked like this in the ancient times before direct deposit: On the 20th, an 80 column payroll was published in disbursing. The payroll was an alphabetical listing of the Company, with rank, service number, and the amount of money that the Government owed the Marine. In the Company office, they would draw three columns on the roll: “cash,” “check,” and “ride.” It would be sent to the field for review by each Marine.

The individual Marine would then annotate his desires. Most would let most or all of their pay “ride” on the payroll, i.e., they would not draw anything. The next most frequent entry was for “check” in some amount that the Marine would send home. A lot of Marines were the principal source of income to their families. In my first two months in country, I drew checks to pay off my college loans; thereafter, I let the money ride. Finally, some would ask for small amounts of cash.

The payroll was sent back to Disbursing to prepare for payday.

On the 30th, the Pay Officer would select one of his Marines to be his body guard. For a platoon commander in the bush, he would go to An Hoa on the 29th, giving his “body guard” a night in the rear where he could get a shower and a couple of hot meals. After picking up the payroll, checks, blank envelopes, and counting and signing for the cash, it was off to the LZ.

In the field, Marines were paid and signed for their cash. Those who had asked for checks endorsed them and were given envelopes so they could send the check home. The Pay Officer would carry the envelopes back and mail them from the Company office. (Congress had granted us a franking privilege, so there was no need to worry about stamps.)

After all Marines were paid in the field, the Pay officer and bodyguard would fly to Danang to pay troops who had been hospitalized between the 20th and the 30th. I would always go to 1st Medical Battalion and 1st Hospital Company first. They were close to the Division CP and the LZ at 11th Motor Transport Battalion which was also the site of 5th Marines (Rear). We would then hitch a ride to the Naval Support Activity Hospital, down near Marble Mountain, arriving late enough in the day to pay and then be “stranded” when the roads closed for the night. NSA had beds with sheets, hot showers, and mess facilities similar to back in the World.

This time, however, I was starting from An Hoa. And it rained. Then, at about 1600,
Pottenger called. “A hole in the weather just opened up. Get to the LZ.”

At the same time, my 4 Chief popped in. “I’m headed to the LZ with a working party. A hole in the weather just opened up and we’ve gotta resupply the battalion in the next hour or two.”

I got to the Z just in time to catch the resupply bird headed to the Company. There were four or five troops reporting to or returning to the Company and me, along with a helicopter full of supplies. We took off and then hovered while the Shore Party people hooked an external net to the chopper. Then we were off.

We landed 15 minutes later. I reported to the Company Commander, a 1st Lieutenant, and the Gunny promptly started rotating the platoons up to be paid. It was sunny and everyone was enjoying a respite from the rain. The CO, who was playing his role to the hilt, insisted that I, as a REMF, walk out to an observation post located about 200 meters from the lines to pay those troops "for the experience." I did, but when I returned, I pulled the SOB aside and reminded him that I had been in country for ten and one-half months to his three weeks and that I was senior to him. (He had been sent to Camp Lejeune from TBS for “seasoning,” but once in country, he was senior enough to get a company.) This last remark was particularly stinging; the maxim that "Seniority between lieutenants is like virtue among whores" usually led to a live and let live attitude.

After that, I went down to 3d Platoon and spent the night with them because I knew the platoon commander from embark school. It started to rain again about midnight.

Rain in an Asian monsoon is unlike anything we have in the States. When I was in the Philippines a couple of years later, the rain started on July 6 and stopped on August 24. And I mean it—it did not ever stop raining in that 50 day period. The volume changed, but the precipitation was constant.

In our little part of Vietnam, it rained. Streams rose, the hill on which we were located became an island, fighting holes were swimming pools.

The next morning, I checked with the CO to see if there was any chance that we would get a bird that day. While I was there, the CO ordered one of his platoon commanders to send out an OP to the same location as the day before.

I pulled him aside. “You sure you want to do that? Don’t get into a pattern.”

“Look. Lieutenant,” he replied. “I had a platoon for eight months at Camp Lejeune. I think I can run this company without your help.”

Fine with me, Jack. I returned to the Third Herd. It rained all day. The Old Man decided that everyone should stay in place. Moving in the rain is miserable. Just sitting in it is miserable, squared and cubed.

The next morning, the CO sent the OP to the same spot. I objected and was told to get the [universal modifier] out of the CP. Ten minutes later, the troops moving into the OP tripped a booby trap, killing one Marine and wounding another. Although all administrative flights were grounded, medevacs still flew.

The Gunny came down and blew off steam, and the platoon commander needed some consoling. And it rained.

On the fourth day, we began to run out of chow, and by the sixth day, we were completely out.
Whenever I am out in rain or snow these days and I hear people complain about “how miserable it will probably be,”, I smile. The Marine Corps spent 20 years teaching me how to be wet and miserable, and even now when the time comes, I can be wet, cold, tired, hungry and just [universal modifier] miserable without even thinking about it. The eight day stint in October 1969 was the laboratory session for the course entitled “Being Wet And Miserable 101.”

Finally, on the 8th day, the decision was made for us to walk out.

As we were preparing to move, the platoon commander's radio operator found an old bottle of ketchup buried in the bottom of his haversack. It was half full and looked pretty groady.

He poured it into a canteen cup and topped the cup off with rain water. Someone twisted off a pinch of C-4 plastic explosive, touched a match to it, and held the cup over the low blue flame. In 30 seconds the mixture was boiling. The platoon CP group then each enjoyed a swallow of the lousiest best tomato soup I have ever eaten.

It took us four hours to wade about 5 clicks , through waist-to neck deep water until we hit the MSR. I got leeches for the only time in country. Finally, we reached the road.

Joy of Joys, there were trucks waiting and within an hour of getting to the road, we were back in An Hoa.

I had been on the radio with my 4 Chief and we had dry clothing, including socks, waiting for all four companies.

I still had two chores. I reported to the XO that the Company Commander was a stupid SOB who had killed one of his Marines because of his own ego. The XO nodded. (I later learned that the Gunny had talked to the First Sergeant who talked to the Sergeant Major. I understand that the adjectives used by the Sergeant Major made mine sound like a Mother Goose rhyme.)

I then returned the payroll to Disbursing. Then I looked up the Company’s First Sergeant.

“Uh, First Sergeant, when I paid PFC [the KIA], he endorsed his check to his Mom and gave it to me to mail. He’s probably already home, maybe even buried. What do I do with the check?”

“Lieutenant, I’d send it on home. Put a note in it to explain to the Mom.”

So, a few days later, a grieving Mother got one last check in the mail. I wrote how he had told me how glad he was to be able to help his Mom and his six brothers and sisters. “He told me how much he loves you and his family. I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Just know that he told me how proud he was to be your Son. And we are proud that he was, and always will be, one of our Marines.”

Every word I wrote was true. I pray that it helped.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

STUPAK CAVES

2010-03-21T19:15:00.002-04:00

For the past several months, Representative Bart Stupak(D. Mich) was a beacon of principle in an otherwise fairly sordid and cowardly Democratic caucus in the House of Representatives.

The liberal wing of the party—the one that thought the Obama victory was a mandate to enact every liberal dream—decided that this was an opportunity to get rid of the Hyde amendment that since the 1970s has prohibited federal payment for abortion. They tried to sneak such language through the House, but Stupak and others insisted on amending the House bill to ensure that there was no way that tax money would ever pay for elective abortions.

Why he trusts any of the leadership is a mystery because they tried to defeat his amendment by preventing him from offering it. Only when the Czarina and her buddy, Stenny, were caught trying to bypass Stupak did they allow it to be considered. Surprise—it carried.

Enter Harry Reid and the liberal Dems in the Senate. They ensured that no Stupak language would be added to the Senate bill. “Don’t worry, Bart,” the Czarinsa PROMISED. “The House Senate conference will try again.”

But Massachussets intervened. Martha Croakley…er. Coakley the heir presumptive to Ted Kennedy went down in flames to Todd Brown. Faced with the certainty of a filibuster of a conference report in the Senate, the House had but one option—pass the Senate bill as written.

Stupak objected. Now comes the real arm twisting. Harry Reid PROMISES that the so-called “fix-it” bill will pass, but, surprise, Stupak’s language is not allowed in the fix it. Besides which, Harry also PROMISES that the Senate will pass the fix it. Not to worry, Bart.

But Harry also knows that if the Parliamentarian rules that the reconciliation proces does not apply to the fix it, that legislation is dead. And so does Bart.

Now the Pres comes in. “Don’t worry, Bart. Even if the Senate language is the law of the land, I will simply issue an Executive Order amending the law. I PROMISE.”

Ultimately, a man of principle will learn a couple of good lessons before he is defeated next November. First, you are not a man of principle unless you stick to your guns, even when your party gets mad about it. Second, a man of principle has no business in the Democratic caucus in the House. Not with the leadership there extant.

Here endeth the lesson…

HARRY, NANCY, SMOKE AND MIRRORS

2010-03-20T11:32:00.003-04:00

My 200th Blog. Who'da thunk it?

The hype surrounding the vote on the so-called “Health Care Reform” bill is approaching that usually associated with the Super Bowl. Tomorrow promises more smoke, mirrors and glitz than a half-time extravaganza.

Based on the glowing CBO figures received based on Harry and Nancy’s “assumptions (which CBO is required to accept) the bill will cost a minimum of $940 billion over the next 10 years (although only the taxes, penalties and fees kick in immediately—the $940 billion will be spent in 6 years starting in 2014). We are assured by the Dems that it will “save” $138 billion in deficit reductions. In other words, they plan for the federal government to spend less money we don’t have than they would otherwise spend. Huh?

It’s like the old joke about the guy who buys something on sale although his bank balance is zero because he can use the “savings.”

But it gets better. Although CBO usually doesn’t project out beyond 10 years (for obvious reasons to be mentioned below), Nancy and Harry needed some big numbers to counter that nearly $1 trillion (1 followed by 12 zeros)cost, so CBO promises that in the decade starting in 2020 and ending in 2029, we’ll “save” another $1.2 trillion.

And if you believe that, contact me. I have some prime Nevada ocean front property that Harry is selling me that I can pass on to you.

The CBO does not project out that far because to do so accurately is nearly impossible.

Think about it. If the CBO is that good, why, back in 1988 did the CBO not warn us about the last two years?

Update

The Dems have retreated from Demon Pass ("Deem and pass"), the procedure thay had planned to use so that they could lie to their constituents saying "Oh, I didn't vote for the Senate Bill. I voted for a rule."

I suppose someone said to them, "Look, if we are so ashamed of what we are doing that we don't want to admit it, we should either better listen to the voters or just stand up and vote for the damned thing and take our whuppin' in November like adults."

We ought to sell tickets to the Fall campaigns--we coulkd retire the debt.

BLEST BE THE TIES THAT BIND

2010-03-19T08:20:00.007-04:00

October was a busy month. One afternoon, Tom Pottenger walked into the S-4 bunker and said, “C’mon. You’re gonna want to see this.”

We walked out into the battalion street to see a large group of Marines milling around outside the H&S Company CP.

“What the…,” I muttered?

Pot grinned. “We’re being reinforced.”

As the 3d Marine Division was being pulled out of Vietnam in the “Vietnamization” process, Headquarters, Marine Corps had decided that only those Marines with more than 9 months in country would go to Okinawa. The rest would be sent south to build up the strength of the 1st Marine Division.

Second Battalion, Third Marines was sent to the 5th Marines, and each battalion received one company. As I recall, 1/5 received G/2/3.

This made sense. Bonding in combat is in my estimation one of the closest relationships ever to be developed, stronger than all but that of mother and child. Consider that a baby is helpless in a huge, dangerous world and must rely on one person above all for survival. In combat, one is again in a dangerous world and must rely on shipmates for survival. Just as removing from his mother a baby who has forged the bond is traumatic, so, too, is breaking the bonds forged in combat.

Read any of Steven Ambrose's books and one theme is that the vets in a unit were leery of bonding with new arrivals. They had already suffered the loss of buddies with whom the bond had been forged and many could not bear the thought of re-bonding and losing again. So the Marine Corps policy was sound; it ensured that these troops would know at least a few people in their new units.

At the same time, the leaders in 1/5 were facing a task of re-orienting the thinking of these new joins. Their identity was with the Third Marines. Fortunately, they were joining the most illustrious battalion in the most illustrious regiment in the pre-eminent Division in the Corps. They were "movin' up," even if it took us a while to convince them of that fact. (Many of them are members of the First Marine Division Association and attend our reunions. It is their right and privilege to do so. What is interesting is that few of them are also members of the Third Marine Division Association. They consider themselves--and they are--Marines of 1/5 and the 5th Marines, a fighting organization that accepts as its peers only Caesar's Legion in Gaul and Jackson's Brigade in the Valley.)

But again, I digress. When we got close, Tom called the group to attention. “I’m Lieutenant Pottenger, the S-1. I want all the officers to come with me. Whoever has the SRBs (service record books) of the troops, bring those, too. This is Lieutenant McCarty, the S-4. He’ll explain the drill for tonight.”

There was a small sandbagged bunker next to the H&S Company CP tent, a shelter in case of rocket or mortar attacks. I jumped up on it, and explained that we would get them to chow right away (it was about 1600) and then would billet them in GP tents for the night. I then asked, “Are there any questions?”

Every hand shot up. Damn!?!

“OK, Sergeant?”

“Yessir. We been humping the mountains up north against the NVA. We heard that down here in VC country, you run into booby traps. The NVA don’t use booby traps. Are there a lot of booby traps down here?”

Now there was an interesting question, in so many ways. The Third Marine Division had convinced itself that their war was the bad one--and it was a bad one, in the mountains with triple canopy against the NVA. But the idea that we were merely toying with a few guerillas rankled. Recall that we destroyed the 90th NVA Regiment in June.

“Well, Sergeant, the short answer is ‘yes.’ I don't know what line they have been feeding you in the Third Mar Div, but there are NVA here, too, and even they plant booby traps. My best advice is this: even if you have been in country five or six months, even if you are an NCO, this is something new. Listen to the Marines who have been here, even if they are junior to you or have been in country for a shorter time. If everyone in the column walks to the left of a tree, you walk to the left. Recently, 2/5 had a lieutenant that decided to walk to the right and now they’re short one lieutenant.”

“Another thing,” I continued. “If you enter a ville and look down a path and see a nice new flak jacket, or a helmet or a cartridge belt just laying there, leave it alone. Call for an engineer. A while back, 3/5 had a lieutenant who decided that he should save the taxpayers money and retrieve a flak jacket that was just sitting next to a well. He’s dead, the flak jacket was destroyed, and the taxpayers paid for his funeral. Use your heads, listen to the people who have been here, and you’ll be fine. OK?”

He nodded.

“OK, who’s next?” No one moved. It dawned on me that they had really been beat over the head with the threat of booby traps. A good thing, too, because the NVA and VC were masters of the trade.

By the next morning, they had been parsed out to the companies and they fit in just fine.

In 2005, we finally got a group of 1/5 Marines from the 1969 time period together at the reunion.

The guys from Tet '68 in Hue City had been the strong core of the members from the Vietnam era 'til then. They made us feel welcome, but that bonding thing was still strong. At the 1999 reunion banquet, I was sitting with them because no one from my time was present. At dinner, they were passing around a copy of the Life magazine photo of an amtrac bringing casualties out of Hue City. One Marine is cradling another in his arms, the wounded man smeared with blood and a battle dressing tied across his chest. Even in the photo, his skin was greying.

I remember that issue and that photo. It came out right after Mom had gotten the response to her letter to the President. I devoured the issue, seeing myself in every photo. Mom refused to look at it again.

At the reunion, they were pointing out Marines they knew. The man sitting next to me was identified as the one holding the casualty.

"Did he make it," I asked?

He paused, teared up, and then shook his head. "Nah. He died at the BAS (battalion aid station)." He paused. "Aw, Fuck!" This time, that one word was uttered as a prayer, and I believe that our loving and compassionate God, the Father of the Great Lion of Judah, received it as just that--nothing more or less.

He stood up and walked away. One of their Corpsmen, a question on his face, looked at me across the table. I nodded, and Doc took off to console his brother. I felt like a base intruder into a family still in mourning, a stranger, a distant cousin who was merely showing up for the wake.

Soon, we reached out to guys from "our year" and we now attend in in strength. It is easier when you are with family.

At dinner during one of "our" first reunions, we were trying to place each other. Suddenly, one guy looked at me.

“Hey, you’re that tall skinny lieutenant who talked to us about booby traps.”

After all those years, it was still all about those damned booby traps!

Semper Fi.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.

MPC (Military Payment Certificates)

2010-03-18T13:31:00.003-04:00

With my return to An Hoa after our little visit to the Arizona, I figured that my service in the field was probably done for my tour. Not so fast there, bucko!

A couple of days after the battalion headed for the area southeast of Phu Loc (6), I was called to the XO’s office. Along with several officers, I was informed that starting the next morning, the US Forces in Vietnam would be recovering all currently issued Military Payment Certificates (“MPC”), the scrip we used for money, and issuing a new version. We were the exchange officers.

Starting shortly after the United States entered the war in 1965, a huge black market had developed, with the intent of getting access to US currency. Neither North nor South Vietnam had a recognized hard currency for foreign trade and dollars were in real demand. To shortstop the black market and to control access to US currency, as soon as a soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine arrived in Vietnam, he would exchange any US currency in his possession for scrip. When I arrived in An Hoa in December 1968, I had about $60 US. By June 1969, I still had about $20 of the scrip I received in December.

Issued in denominations of $.05, $.10, $.25, $1.00, $5.00, and $10.00, the bills were about half the size of regular US bills and were printed in any color except green. The version in use when I arrived had scenes from US history and were printed in blue, brown, red, and purple, depending on the denomination.

There was an apocryphal story that when it was first announced that scrip would replace greenbacks back in 1965, one enterprising soldier stationed in Saigon raided his unit’s rec room, removed all the bills from the Monopoly game, and went on a shopping spree. I hope it is true!

The next morning, all entrances to the base were closed. Authorized contractors, such as the mama-sans who ran the laundry and the papa-sans in the barber shop had been told to leave their cash with the disbursing officer when they left the night before. There were dozens of Vietnamese standing outside the gate trying to get the sentries to convert their illegally obtained MPCs. With officers observing each gate, they were pretty much out of luck.

I reported to the Disbursing bunker to obtain a payroll for Alpha Company, a stack of mimeographed receipts, a package of carbon paper, and a waterproof ammunition box to store the cash. I then headed down to the LZ and caught the first bird to Alpha Company.

Upon my arrival, the company reported to me by squads. For each man, I took his MPC, we counted it together, and I gave him my personal receipt for the agreed upon amount, keeping my carbon for the record. By 1300, I was done, but I had to wait until the next morning to get back to An Hoa. As soon as I got there, I returned to Disbursing where I counted and turned in the old MPC and my receipts, obtaining a receipt from the Disbursing Officer.

The next morning, I reported back to disbursing. There I counted out the new MPC (same size, color and denominations, but all of the pictures were from the manned space program), took custody of the cash and the carbons of my receipts, delivering the DO’s receipt to him, and headed back out. In the bush, I then “bought back” my receipts from the troops. The Disbursing clerks had spent all night paying out cash for each individual receipt, and we were cautioned not to “make change” for anyone.

Everything went well, except that two Marines had been medevac-ed during the night. I spent another night in the bush and had the opportunity to experience a couple of artillery short rounds that landed less than 100 meters outside the lines. As Father O'Brien said, "Friendly fire ain't!"

When I got back to An Hoa the next morning, the battalion appointed one officer to take the cash for wounded Marines from all 5 companies and go to Danang to pay them. I passed on that opportunity.

And yes, I followed the same procedure for myself. Of course, following the practice of pay officers back in those days of cash pay days, I had paid myself last in case there was a shortage. How it happened, I don’t know, but I made a profit.

I was a nickel ahead when all was done.

© 2010 Michael R. McCarty. All rights reserved.