Email from Participant at President Bush's Thanksgiving

Posted By Blackfive

Below is an email (via military reader "In Media Res") from a Captain in the 501st (a unit that I know well) that was at President Bush's Thanksgiving Dinner. With all the talk of fake turkey and photo ops, maybe you should hear about the President's visit from someone that was actually there:

We knew there was a dinner planned with ambassador Bremer and LTG Sanchez. There were 600 seats available and all the units in the division were tasked with filling a few tables. Naturally, the 501st MI battalion got ourtable. Soldiers were grumbling about having to sit through another dog-and-pony show, so we had to pick soldiers to attend. I chose not to go.

But, about 1500 the G2, LTC Devan, came up to me and with a smile, asked me to come to dinner with him, to meet him in his office at 1600 and bring a camera. I didn't really care about getting a picture with Sanchez or Bremer, but when the division's senior intelligence officer asks you to go, you go. We were seated in the chow hall, fully decorated for thanksgiving when aaaaallllll kinds of secret service guys showed up.

That was my first clue, because Bremer's been here before and his personal security detachment is not that big. Then BG Dempsey got up to speak, and he welcomed ambassador Bremer and LTG Sanchez. Bremer thanked us all and pulled out a piece of paper as if to give a speech. He mentioned that the President had given him this thanksgiving speech to give to the troops. He then paused and said that the senior man present should be the one to give it. He then looked at Sanchez, who just smiled.

Bremer then said that we should probably get someone more senior to read the speech. Then, from behind the camouflage netting, the President of the United States came around. The mess hall actually erupted with hollering. Troops bounded to their feet with shocked smiles and just began cheering with all their hearts. The building actually shook. It was just unreal. I was absolutely stunned. Not only for the obvious, but also because I was only two tables away from the podium. There he stood, less than thirty feet away from me! The cheering went on and on and on.

Soldiers were hollering, cheering, and a lot of them were crying. There was not a dry eye at my table. When he stepped up to the cheering, I could clearly see tears running down his cheeks. It was the most surreal moment I've had in years. Not since my wedding and Aaron being born. Here was this man, our President, came all the way around the world, spending 17 hours on an airplane and landing in the most dangerous airport in the world, where a plane was shot out of the sky not six days before.

Just to spend two hours with his troops. Only to get on a plane and spend another 17 hours flying back. It was a great moment, and I will never forget it. He delivered his speech, which we all loved, when he looked right at me and held his eyes on me. Then he stepped down and was just mobbed by the soldiers. He slowly worked his way all the way around the chow hall and shook every last hand extended. Every soldier who wanted a photo with the President got one. I made my way through the line, got dinner, then wolfed it down as he was still working the room.

You could tell he was really enjoying himself. It wasn't just a photo opportunity. This man was actually enjoying himself! He worked his way over the course of about 90 minutes towards my side of the room. Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to shake a few hands. I got a picture with Ambassador Bremer, Talabani (acting Iraqi president) and Achmed Chalabi (another member of the ruling council) and Condaleeza Rice, who was there with him.

I felt like I was drunk. He was getting closer to my table so I went back over to my seat. As he passed and posed for photos, he looked my in the eye and "How you doin', captain." I smiled and said "God bless you, sir." To which he responded "I'm proud of what you do, captain." Then moved on.

How much more do you need to know?

We have a President worthy of leading Americans in the Guard and Reserve like Donnie and Darth and on active duty like Greyhawk and Sergeant Thor (Welcome Home!).

If the turkey had been fake and the President had been insincere, that mess hall would have been a helluva LOT quieter...kind of like the recent reception of a certain Senator...Soldiers, while not being able to fully express displeasure with politicians and leaders, have their own ways of getting the message across loud and clear.

BTW, I you want to really know Thor (and I am just begining to "know" him via the blog), read this post (it's blog-spotted so scroll down to July 28th).

Update: As if you needed more (well, hell, maybe you do if you work for the Washington Post), a reader sends this link to another story about the Bush Thanksgiving visit via a family member who was there.

Oh my god, here is another one....these things are everywhere, what the hell are the liberals thinking!

BTW, Reuters and the Washington Times have stories reporting that the dinner was in the early evening hours and not at 0500...

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Attention Scotch Lovers!!!

Posted By Blackfive

Since this has become the blog for military, political and SCOTCH news, I thought I would pass along one of my favorite articles from the New York Times. It's about, of all things, Scotch. It's long. It's informative. And it'll make you thirsty. Right, Eric?

Scotch Whiskey: A Rugged Drink for a Rugged Land

July 16, 2003
By R. W. APPLE Jr.
ELGIN, Scotland

IAN URQUHART, a gently spoken, 55-year-old Scotch whiskey man who heads the firm of Gordon & MacPhail, led the way through his firm's 6,000-barrel warehouses here in northeastern Scotland, identifying some of the choicest lots for an overseas visitor.

"That's 60-year-old Mortlach," he said fondly. "We bottled some of it in 2000 and more in 2001. There's still a little left. That cask was filled for my grandfather. It slept right through my father's generation."

He walked past a cask of 1949 Benromach with the comment, "Haven't decided when to bottle that," past 10 casks of 1951 Glen Grant in an aisle with barrels piled eight or nine high, past 1957 Glenlivet and 1988 Highland Park – the best all-round malt, many say - and on to the "graveyard."
Whiskeys from defunct distilleries rest there, quietly eking out a kind of afterlife.

"Hillside," Mr. Urquhart said, in the tone of a man mourning a lost friend. "Demolished for a housing scheme. Seventy-eight Millburn. Millburn's gone, too. It's a Beefeater Steak House these days, outside of Inverness." Scots take their whiskey seriously, and not just because they fancy a wee dram themselves. (Or not so wee a dram; Lord Dundee, who drank his whiskey by the tumblerful, once said, "A single Scotch is nothing more than a dirty glass.")

Continue reading "Attention Scotch Lovers!!!"

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The Warrior Caste

Posted By Blackfive

I have been thinking about the American Warrior Caste for a long time, now. The Warrior Caste is made up of families that serve in the military for generations.

Recently, Doc Russia mentioned it to me when I left a comment at his blog. LCDR Smash had a post in response to Professor Atlas' editorial about the widening divisions between civilians and the military. Those who continue to serve have less in common with those who don't, and this gap widens with every generation.

Much of Professor Atlas' information is based on perceptions and surveys, and it struck a chord in me.

Me? My family had been in either the Navy or Marines since the Revolutionary War.  I never had any pressure at all to join. In fact, my mother was vehemently against military service. But still, I went. So, according to Professor Atlas, the gap is widening between my mother's generation and mine.

So why did I serve? Why does a family continually have children that decide to serve in the military?

I think we can definitely dismiss the case for riches and wealth. Some liberals would like to believe that we were "Born to Kill" (think Full Metal Jacket). That's not it either. And while I definitely took advantage of the college benefits, that's not the motivation.

Almost all of us military folks bleed red, white and blue. We tear up when the Star Spangled Banner is played because we imagine Francis Scott Key captured and desparate, hoping to see his beloved flag flying. We tell people at the ball park to take their hats off during the national anthem.

We defend our country no matter who is in the White House. We suffer when the leadership is poor and we thrive when the leader ship is good.

But how does a family serve for generations?

The reason is that there is a feeling of obligation for the benefit of living in a country built on ideas. That we understand that freedom is not for free. That somebody has to defend it. And we are actually willing to do it.

Some of us may feel morally superior because of it. However, I feel that my service connects me to my country, my ancestors, and my heroes and that it gives me a better understanding of the price of liberty. There IS an underlying obligation on us, but it’s not to our families or country, but to ourselves to see if living the life defending freedom is worth it. I tell you it is.

One last thing. Those of us in the Warrior Caste feel more akin to those with the same connections. You can see this for yourself when two of us, who’ve never met before, are instantly brothers or sisters after two minutes of conversation (or blogging). It’s not understood. It’s not implied. It is felt…it is felt down in the deepest reaches of your gut, your soul.

The Warrior Caste serves for generations because it has deep faith. Faith that your leaders won’t send you to the far corners of the earth to do wrong. Faith that your fellow citizens will care for your well-being, keeping you equipped and fed. Faith that our Founding Fathers were right in that fighting for freedom is worth dying for. Faith in your fellow soldiers.

We hope to live up to the expectations of our parents and ancestors and, most of all, of you.

That’s no surprise but it needs to be said.

Those of you of the Warrior Caste – what say you?

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Veterans Day - Post 004 - Mike Royko

Posted By Blackfive

This is what Mike Royko (1932 - 1997), of the Chicago Tribune, had to say about Veterans Day in 1993. I am sure I am not alone in my agreement with Mike.

Blackfive
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I just phoned six friends and asked them what they will be doing on Monday.

They all said the same thing: working.

Me, too.

There is something else we share. We are all military veterans.

And there is a third thing we have in common. We are not employees of the federal government, state government, county government, municipal government, the Postal Service, the courts, banks, or S & Ls, and we don’t teach school.

If we did, we would be among the many millions of people who will spend Monday goofing off.

Which is why it is about time Congress revised the ridiculous terms of Veterans Day as a national holiday.

The purpose of Veterans Day is to honor all veterans.

So how does this country honor them?

Continue reading "Veterans Day - Post 004 - Mike Royko"

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Saving Specialist Gray

Posted By Blackfive

>"There was little action in Iraq today..." - September 8th, 2003

Again, here is another story that the mainstream liberal media have chosen to overlook. This is a story about 113 soldiers that fought to save the life of one of their own. Words cannot describe my awe at the sheer will of our military men and women. This story makes me proud to be an American. Damn proud!:

SAVING SPECIALIST GRAY
By MAJ Kevin J. Cuccinelli
Battalion Surgeon, 1-8 Infantry

While the daily headlines report that we need more soldiers in Iraq, I know one soldier that would disagree. For 22-year old Specialist Roy Alan Gray, there were more than enough soldiers here when the task at hand was to save his life.

Specialist (SPC) Gray is a member of the 1-8 Infantry Battalion, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 4th ID, otherwise known as the "Fighting Eagles." On September 8, 2003, he was part of a convoy delivering the coveted "hot dinner" to his battalion's headquarters (HQ) area. SPC Gray had just returned to his truck when a mortar round exploded only 30 feet away. Shrapnel from the mortar pierced the truck's metal door and cut up through his left thigh. Smaller shrapnel bits lodged in his shoulder and ear. The leg wound, however, proved to be life threatening.

At his location was the forward deployed aid station for his unit. The medics acted quickly, called for an Air MEDEVAC immediately, and attended to his injuries while the helicopter was en route. The medics initiated this care as more mortars continued to impact around them. They started 2 IVs and began pouring fluid into him. His thigh wound still bled profusely even after their initial treatments so the medics quickly opted for a tourniquet, a common last resort measure. The tourniquet stopped most of the bleeding by blocking all blood flow to his injured leg. While this greatly increased the chances that he would lose his leg, it stopped the more immediate threat of massive blood loss, thereby saving his life. The surgeons would later report that if not for the medic's immediate response, SPC Gray would have been dead on arrival (DOA) by the time he made it to the hospital.

Continue reading "Saving Specialist Gray"

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Me and My Muslim Friends Neighbors

Posted By Blackfive

At first, I was so damn angry after the experience you are about to read that I didn't trust myself to write something coherent. Then, I calmed down and figured that it was an anomaly. I wasn't going to write about this experience, but, with the recent comments coming out of the Organization of the Islamic Conference in Malaysia, I thought that I might be able to shed some light on what we are up against in the world...

One of my friends is a guy I met in grad school a few years ago. He's a lawyer that practices IP law and was pursuing a MS in Computer Science to further his knowledge of programming. He is brilliant. Went to U of Chicago undergrad, then Northwestern University Law. He works for one of the biggest law firms in the world. He is from Pakistan. His name is Masood.

A few months ago, Masood invited me to his brother's birthday party. Since I love Middle Eastern food and knew his family pretty well, I went. After the party, we went to a bar on the city's northwest side where a lot of Pakistanis hang out (and, yes, they drank alcohol).

We played cards for awhile and then moved back to the bar. The course of our conversation eventually turned from sports and business to politics and religion - and it went badly. Almost immediately, the Israelis were blamed for everything from SARS to the price of bread.

Continue reading "Me and My Muslim Friends Neighbors"

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Racism Sucks - Especially When You Are Drinking

Posted By Blackfive

I am a white guy. I make rice look dark. I'm 5'11", 215 lbs. and the most average looking guy you could find (you can see my picture in my photo blogs). In the city of Chicago, I blend right in with the other Irish mutts.

The military was not an eye opener to me for race - meaning, I went to Chicago  schools, okay? I WAS the minority. However, I did notice some things that I might not have if I hadn't met some of the great men and women serving our country.

Just a few months ago, my friend Paul had leave from the Army and came to visit family here in Chicago. Of course, we spent a few night boozing around the town. Paul is black (BTW, he would tell Jesse Jackson to shove his 'African American' moniker right up his ass). Paul and I share the same last name. We also went to school together. We were Army Officers. We had a lot in common and knew each other very, very well.

Paul is comfortable with the 'black' label. Or so I thought...

Continue reading "Racism Sucks - Especially When You Are Drinking"

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Alzheimer's

Posted By Blackfive

A man o' words, but no o' deeds, is like a garden full o' weeds. - Scottish Proverb (my grandfather's favorite)

Alzheimer’s took my grandfather from me years ago. It was tough. Man, it was so very tough. While I often try to “do” something about Alzheimer’s (donations or volunteering), I rarely speak of it.

My grandfather was the one who taught me about being a gentleman - that a real man holds the door open for a lady - that a real man takes responsibility for his actions and his family - that honor is not just a word. – and that, sometimes, a real man must fight for what he believes in. He was probably a lot like your grandfathers. He taught me how to fish and took me for rides in his boat or tractor (he lived on the Rock river in northern Illinois). He was a farmer. He taught me about the simple pleasures in life.

When I was eleven, my grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. It was one of the hardest things to endure - to see him deteriorate over the years. He was my greatest hero.

By the time I was fourteen, our family was debating moving him to a geriatric center. He rarely knew who I was anymore. He once threw a tape recorder through a glass window of his house, pulled me to the ground and yelled, “grenade!”. He thought he was saving my life. When I asked one of his friends about it, he said that my grandfather had done such a thing in WWII. Memories of the past were beginning to bleed through into his perception of the present.

But it was through this awful disease that I saw the real man behind my idol worship.

Continue reading "Alzheimer's"

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T-Minus One Hour

Posted By Blackfive

This one is related to my post on Why I Love Southwest Airlines.

It was about one hour before I was to be married. My job was pretty much finished. All of the groomsmen and ushers were there (mostly sober) and taking their responsibilities seriously. Everything was well under control - just like my future wife wanted it to be. The videographer was setting up cameras around the church and put a hidden microphone on me while the flower lady pinned my boutonniere on my tux. The mike was going to be turned on 10 minutes before the start of the ceremony so the throngs of attendees could hear our vows.

All I needed to do now was succinctly said by my future father-in-law: "Your part is easy, Matt. You're like the lamb being led to the slaughter."

Thanks, Jimbo.

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Why I Love Southwest Airlines

Posted By Blackfive

On the day before my wedding, I had to travel to St. Louis from Chicago. I had a flight booked on Southwest for 11:58AM. I was flying to meet my wife-to-be and go to our wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner that night.

I left our apartment in Chicago at about 10:30am. Caught a cab, threw my luggage and my wife-to-be's extra luggage (they always have extra luggage, don't they?) into the cab's trunk and took off for Midway Airport (about 20 minutes away). We were driving at about 50 mph on North Avenue, ten blocks from my apartment, when my cab hit a delivery truck coming out of a Home Depot. I wasn't wearing a seatbelt.

I slammed facefirst into the cab's plexiglass divider that separated the front and back seats. Everything went black for a few seconds, then I heard a voice asking if I was okay. I shook my head and felt blood running down my chin. I had a bloody nose and a cut chin.

@#$%!

Continue reading "Why I Love Southwest Airlines"

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