While I type this, I am muttering a mantra of "do not get overly political...". Given the topic, I will find it difficult.
I have felt the need to write this essay for a long time now. While I was still serving, I restrained myself out of fear of crossing a line. That line is no longer drawn in the same place, in my case. Though I still hold to a code of personal ethics that still makes me a bit hesitant to publish this. Well, that is I was hesitant until a recent event tipped me over the edge.
A teacher in San Antonio, Texas brought some of his students on an unauthorized little field trip. The fact that the parents of these kids accompanied the trip only serves to cover him from legal liability. He is a teacher of US Government Studies at the JFK HS in San Antonio. His actions there prove that he doesn't use his classroom to teach political systems and philosophies from an objective standpoint. His actions demonstrate that he uses his classroom to preach his own political ideals to the students. Is he entitled to his political beliefs? Yes. Should he be preaching them to high school students? NO!
I'll bet you are wondering what he did. Here is a link to a political blog covering the event. I will say you need to watch the video and make up your own mind. However, even some of my more left-leaning acquaintances agree that this man's actions were far from acceptable. Chicks On The Right: This Dude Will Probably Get Teacher of the Year.
Now, this is just my opinion. I have taken many courses in education. I have taken many courses in civics. I am more of a philosopher than a politician. I am not a parent, yet. However, my fiancee loves to test that line on a regular basis, asking my input and advice in the raising of her daughter. I do, never the less, have many children in my life whom look up to me. They see me as an example. They look upon me as a sounding board. Even more unbelievable is that they come to me for nuggets of wisdom they feel they aren't getting from their parents. Of course, that is because I appear more objective and more open to listening. Then again, I won't scream at them, either (usually). These kids range in age from 1 to 18. So, while not a parent, I do have some role I am filling.
If a student is less than voting age, it is unethical, irresponsible, criminal, and immoral, as an educator, to indoctrinate them into anything other than the US Constitution (and whatever State and local constitutions or charters apply). If you are a teacher, your job is to teach and to facilitate learning. It is the parents' jobs to help the kids to formulate their moral and ethical foundations. It is the individual's responsibility to formulate their own opinions based upon facts. Yes, that means it is the kids' right and responsibility to think for themselves.
So, how do we educate our children on politics? What is the best way?
This really needs to start at home. We need to teach our children about responsibility. We need to teach them about making choices and living with the consequences, good or bad, of those choices. We need to teach them to choose, though. I am not advocating any form of extreme punishments or letting our children come to harm over a bad choice. That will happen regardless of what we do. We can and should mitigate that as much as possible.
However, if you give the kid a choice between a banana and a bowl of cherries, sure, it is ok to turn your banana into a banana split after the kid chooses the cherries. It will teach the child to get all of the facts before making a snap decision. If your child decides to behave poorly, you let the child know that continuing to do so is choosing to loose a privilege.
Teaching a child to share is important. However, we need to also teach our children about ownership. Having somebody share something with you is NOT your right. It is the sharing person's decision, kindness, and charity. If another child won't share, it is that kid's right. It is your right to not reciprocate when time comes around (or better yet, choose to be the better person). But there needs to be a lesson there on the difference between "mine", "yours", and "ours".
It is also imperative that we teach our children the system of merit. They need to learn what it means to earn. They need to learn that productivity and progress are rewarded. Let them earn an allowance for duties accomplished. Do not extend credit on promises of "I'll be good if...". Reward them for good grades, doing chores, going above the standard.
Now let me address for formalized education. If this is not being done in your schools, it is on us, the adults, to teach it at home. It is also our responsibility to impress upon our employees (and yes, teachers are OUR employees!) our demands that our children are TAUGHT not INDOCTRINATED.
First of all, the kids have to get a good foundation of history. They need to be taught where the ideas the framers of the US Constitution came from. They need to learn that the Republic of Rome, though based on nobility and aristocracy, lasted longer than the Democracy of Athens. They need to learn how England forced King John to sign the Magna Carta, thus transforming Great Brittan into a Constitutional Monarchy.
The next step is to start introducing them to some political philosophies from an objective standpoint. They need to be given the definitions. They need to be shown examples of these systems when they were employed, how long they lasted, what they accomplished, and how and why they failed. These are historic and pre-1787 examples.
Next you need to teach them about how the US came into being. You need to address the points made in the Declaration of Independence, one at a time. You need to cover why the Colonials took each of these issues and why each issue is important, even today.
The next step is to cover our first government and why it wasn't working. Then start teaching about the Federalist Papers. These essays became the foundation of the US Constitution.
After covering all of the previous comes the much overlooked and arduous task of teaching the US Constitution AS IT CURRENTLY STANDS. Each article needs to be covered showing what powers and authority WE grant to the federal government, and what each branch is responsible for. Teach them the limits of each branch, according to the US Constitution. Teach them what each is allowed to do. Teach them what each branch is NOT allowed to do. Teach them what, by the US Constitution, WE mandate each to do.
Then cover EACH and EVERY amendment. Don't skip over ones you "feel" are not important. They are ALL important. Each of us may feel some need to prioritize them. However, all are equal and all are imperative to be taught with equal weight.
http://www.congressforkids.net/Constitution_index.htm
http://www.kidskonnect.com/component/content/article/16-history/437-constitution.html
Next, you cover the polling process. Then the process by which bills and proposals become laws. Teach them the system that exists, not the one you personally wish to be. Keep your opinions out of the classroom.
(For your own kids, yes, do let them know your thoughts. That is a parental right and responsibility).
The next step is to teach them some of the more modern philosophies and systems. Yes, we want to teach them about Marxism, Socialism, and Communism. Give them the facts and let them make up their own minds.
However, when we teach Marxism, we have to teach them about National Socialism. So we have to teach them about Adolph Hitler and Saddam Hussayn. (Yep, the Iraqi dude was a member of the Ba'ath Party. the Ba'ath Party operated on the tenets of National Socialism. The oil fields were all state owned, for one example. And don't correct my spelling of his name. I follow a certain Arabic to English trans-litteration guide that prohibits "C", "P", "O", and "E".)
We also need to teach them about how Lenin brought Marxism to Russia. From there, we need to teach them about how the USSR government worked and how it FAILED after about 70 years.
We need to teach them about Maoism. We need to show them how North Korea is having internal problems due to their political and economic system. On the flip side, we need to show them how China may be Maoist internally, but acts as a capitalist corporation in the international market. However, many of their people still suffer under their internal government. No, sorry, not every Chinese citizen is getting an equal share.
We need to show them how the Constitutional Monarchy of Great Brittan has evolved. Do the monarchs still hold the powers they used to in the times of King George?
About this time we should also be teaching, objectively, the political philosophies of our various political parties in our country. I would include all the various parties that have existed throughout our history (including the Tories). I would include the US Communist Party, the Green Party, the Libertarian Party, the Reform Party, and yes, the TEA Party. I would not limit it to just the "big two".
The idea is to educate our children with as many facts as possible. Give them the data that will allow them to think critically and formulate their own assessments, analysis, and opinions based upon ALL the data. Teach them how to research things and find their own data outside of what is spoon-fed in a classroom. Not only should we be teaching them HOW to think, but teaching them to actually THINK. We should NOT be teaching them WHAT to think. We should only guide them on things to THINK about.
Now, once in High School, sure, it is time for more debate and discussion. Starting in junior year, yes, the students should, if TAUGHT correctly, have enough data and experience to be able to express their views of each of these systems. A good teacher will play devil's advocate in some of these discussions, offering objecting points of view. At no time should the educators actually pick one over the other and espouse a political ideology as "the best one" except if it happens to be OUR system. Why? Well, it is OUR system and WE pay THEM.
When kids get to college, somebody is flipping the bill. With any luck, our kids will be paying for it themselves through some form of earnings or merit (scholarship, military benefit, working their butts off and saving, etc.). When they hit this level, we should have armed them with the ability to make choices and understand that, then, they are the ones paying their educators and it is their right to demand the education they are paying for.
I have a great story on how things should not be. A friend of mine started as a political science major in college. He had done time in the Navy prior to this. While in his first class, the instructor brought up some of his personal opinions that contradicted my friend's real world experiences. My friend's employee (since he was paying this professor to teach, not to pontificate and indoctrinate) continued, attempting to single my friend out (knowing him to have been military). My friend agreed with the guy. Then he offered additional actions that would have to be taken in the case of what the Comprachico proposed. The answer was truthful and based upon real world experiences and not those in the vacuum of a classroom. The "teacher" did not like a student having such a well-thought-out, honest, and reasonable response. That employee told my friend that if he didn't ascribe to the employee's ideology, my friend would never pass one of his classes. So, there you go... an educator threatening "think how and what I tell you to think, not for yourself".
My friend changed majors. He is now VERY successful in his line of work. So, in effect, he "fired" that "teacher". Our kids need to be taught that, once in college, they do have a right to earn what they have earned; and to get what they paid for: Nothing less, and nothing more.
Ok, I hope I didn't seem to push any particular political agenda or policy here. I really did my best to keep my actual political philosophy out of this essay. If I failed to do so, tough, It is my essay, my blog, my right.
Feel free to comment. Please, though, keep it to facts and assessments. Do not throw emotion around. I don't debate emotions. I pass out tissues and pacifiers and ignore you until you come back with reason, logic, and data. Vulgarity, inappropriate language, insults, and anything less than adult behavior will be deleted, blocked, reported, and banned.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Reflections on Shattered Glass (11-Sep-01)
My battalion was selected to send a company to Veszprem, Hungary to advise and train the Hungarian Army. Hungary was the latest addition to NATO. This opportunity gave us not only a key mission in developing this new alliance, but gave an intelligence geek like me the opportunity to get hands-on experience with Soviet Block weapons and equipment. I was more than excited about this mission.
Per normal protocol, I prepared a threat briefing for those deploying. We were not a nation at war in those days prior to the deployment. However, we would be at the time of our return. However, the biggest threats we faced were foreign intelligence agencies seeking to exploit our soldiers; and a few international terrorist groups that had demonstrated a fondness for attacking US forces who were abroad. Naturally, therefore, the briefing I prepared included the assholes responsible for attacking the US Embassies in Kenya and Tanzania as well as the USS Cole in Yemen: Al Q'aeda.
Also, per normal protocol, many of the Soldiers zoned out, not thinking this to be overtly important to our mission. A couple of the more senior NCOs, Gulf War vets, paid a bit more attention and asked some questions. The questions led to discussions that spurred the younger Soldiers to become curious. The 45 minute brief ended up lasting over 2 hours. Of course, I was happy to share my knowledge and analysis. However, even as long winded as I can be, at the 70 minute mark, the topic was beginning to bore me. But I trudged on. By the end of the brief and the long Q&A, I had many Soldiers coming up to me to ask questions they were afraid to ask in front of the group. This, of course, is a hallmark of being a good intelligence analyst. Usually, the audience just wants you to shut up. Then again, this particular brief fell into my usually ignored and, at the time, seemingly irrelevant specialty.
It had been a busy year for me. A company from my Battalion had deployed with the rest of the Brigade to Kosovo. It was the company that we left in reserve when the rest of the Battalion spent 7 months in Albania (and Kosovo) during the initial campaign. So, we had just spent six months doing the Brigade's normal missions in garrison, plus supporting those deployed. I have never been one to sit on my hands when things needed to be done. I took up the mission of bolstering the force protection measures of the garrison. I also managed to do a few inspections with the Defense Threat Reduction Agency (DTRA) during those busy months. Then, when the rest of the Brigade returned, I went to Kosovo for my second time, to lend assistance to the hunt for some key bad guys. On that deployment, I was also tapped by another government organization to assist in securing Camp Bondsteel for a very special visitor. Yes, I was attached to the Secret Service for President G W Bush's visit. After that almost 3 month tour, I returned to my unit to be informed we won the Hungary mission. That gave me 5 days to prepare myself and my unit for that deployment.
Ten days later, I had fallen into a routine of doing my daily activities. I checked for things that presented a threat to my guys while deployed. I inspected the arms rooms to make sure all security protocols were adhered to. I socialized with the Hungarian soldiers and officers, sharing what little I could and soaking up every detail like a sponge. I even managed to make "friends" with a Maygar general whose coin I still keep on my mantle.
The capstone event of this mission was a planned demonstration of combined arms firepower between our two countries. We had trained tactics and planning and all the fun stuff. Then we set to rehearse for this demonstration. Many big-wigs from NATO were scheduled to watch the main event, including SECDEF Rumsfeld.
The day prior to the demonstration, we had run two "full-dress" rehearsals. That meant all of the munitions were live and not sub-caliber practice rounds. It meant lots of explosions and carnage brought to bear on the hulls of old, broken tanks and plastic mock-up enemy soldiers on "pop-up" lifters. So, sometime in the early afternoon, I marched up from the rehearsal (I was there to give pointers on how to make those darned plastic bad guys looks like they were using real enemy tactics) to our Operations Center. I had to give a current events brief, to include sports scores, to the Soldiers at 4pm. That briefing very quickly changed tone.
I checked the open-source information sources to prepare my brief. I had to keep at the lowest classification possible, so I used these sources to help do so. An "open source" intelligence source is also known as news-media. The date was 11 September 2001. I do not think I need to tell you what breaking story I found everywhere while I complied my nightly brief.
A former member of our Battalion was in the Pentagon that day. He died in the attack. I had several Soldiers with family members that worked in or near the World Trade Center. One of my best friends had family in the FDNY and NYPD. I had to do one of the hardest things in my life. I had to tell my Soldiers about the attacks. I had to look in their eyes as the images of pure horror filled their brains. No official word had yet been culminated on who was responsible, and no group had yet claimed responsibility. However, the question was asked "Who did this?". I gave the official answer. "Sergeant Mat, you know who did this, don't you? Who?". The words of my best guess came too easily: "That group that attacked the USS Cole, Al Q'aeda".
As soon as I said those words, I knew something in me had changed. I had spent the previous years being more of a vigilant guardian watching for a potential threat to pop its head up and attempt something stupid. Now, that potential threat had reared its head and done something horrific. I was no longer that vigilant guardian. I transformed into a flail of retribution and a sword of wrathful vengeance. I became war.
Coming up in the ranks, one of my mentors was, to use his official pseudonym, J. David Galland, a close associate of COL David Hackworth. Mr. Galland, whom I called "Sergeant Major", once told me that I was a rare retro bit of military equipment. He used to joke that he and I needed to be left alone and put in cases with placards that read "Break Glass Only In Case of War". Usama bin Laden broke that glass. All I can say in response to his little act of war is: "I'm still alive motherfucker. How many times have you and your assholes tried to kill me? I'm still breathing. Where the fuck are you, huh?"
Still, there are days when it is too quiet and a little non-invasive thing will ping on my memories. I sit with a small regret at not having seen this war through to its necessary conclusion. It is far from over. All it takes is five minutes of complacency, and they will attack us again. They are down, but not defeated. This is an enemy we need to kick while he is down until he is unconscious. Then we need to kick him once more to make sure he isn't playing possum. Then we need to watch him and kick him back to sleep the second he starts to stir. If we don't, he will roll away and come back with friends.
Ten years, four tours to Iraq, and numerous trips to places undisclosed, I sit here. I have been retired from the US Army for 41 days, after 24 years of faithful service. Thoughts of many events still well up feelings of anger, wrath, grief, sadness, guilt, and indignation. Like the assassinations of JFK, MLK, and John Lennon, people will, for decades, still share their memories of where they were when the Towers Fell. I not only remember where I was and what I was doing. I also remember who I was and who I became.
Per normal protocol, I prepared a threat briefing for those deploying. We were not a nation at war in those days prior to the deployment. However, we would be at the time of our return. However, the biggest threats we faced were foreign intelligence agencies seeking to exploit our soldiers; and a few international terrorist groups that had demonstrated a fondness for attacking US forces who were abroad. Naturally, therefore, the briefing I prepared included the assholes responsible for attacking the US Embassies in Kenya and Tanzania as well as the USS Cole in Yemen: Al Q'aeda.
Also, per normal protocol, many of the Soldiers zoned out, not thinking this to be overtly important to our mission. A couple of the more senior NCOs, Gulf War vets, paid a bit more attention and asked some questions. The questions led to discussions that spurred the younger Soldiers to become curious. The 45 minute brief ended up lasting over 2 hours. Of course, I was happy to share my knowledge and analysis. However, even as long winded as I can be, at the 70 minute mark, the topic was beginning to bore me. But I trudged on. By the end of the brief and the long Q&A, I had many Soldiers coming up to me to ask questions they were afraid to ask in front of the group. This, of course, is a hallmark of being a good intelligence analyst. Usually, the audience just wants you to shut up. Then again, this particular brief fell into my usually ignored and, at the time, seemingly irrelevant specialty.
It had been a busy year for me. A company from my Battalion had deployed with the rest of the Brigade to Kosovo. It was the company that we left in reserve when the rest of the Battalion spent 7 months in Albania (and Kosovo) during the initial campaign. So, we had just spent six months doing the Brigade's normal missions in garrison, plus supporting those deployed. I have never been one to sit on my hands when things needed to be done. I took up the mission of bolstering the force protection measures of the garrison. I also managed to do a few inspections with the Defense Threat Reduction Agency (DTRA) during those busy months. Then, when the rest of the Brigade returned, I went to Kosovo for my second time, to lend assistance to the hunt for some key bad guys. On that deployment, I was also tapped by another government organization to assist in securing Camp Bondsteel for a very special visitor. Yes, I was attached to the Secret Service for President G W Bush's visit. After that almost 3 month tour, I returned to my unit to be informed we won the Hungary mission. That gave me 5 days to prepare myself and my unit for that deployment.
Ten days later, I had fallen into a routine of doing my daily activities. I checked for things that presented a threat to my guys while deployed. I inspected the arms rooms to make sure all security protocols were adhered to. I socialized with the Hungarian soldiers and officers, sharing what little I could and soaking up every detail like a sponge. I even managed to make "friends" with a Maygar general whose coin I still keep on my mantle.
The capstone event of this mission was a planned demonstration of combined arms firepower between our two countries. We had trained tactics and planning and all the fun stuff. Then we set to rehearse for this demonstration. Many big-wigs from NATO were scheduled to watch the main event, including SECDEF Rumsfeld.
The day prior to the demonstration, we had run two "full-dress" rehearsals. That meant all of the munitions were live and not sub-caliber practice rounds. It meant lots of explosions and carnage brought to bear on the hulls of old, broken tanks and plastic mock-up enemy soldiers on "pop-up" lifters. So, sometime in the early afternoon, I marched up from the rehearsal (I was there to give pointers on how to make those darned plastic bad guys looks like they were using real enemy tactics) to our Operations Center. I had to give a current events brief, to include sports scores, to the Soldiers at 4pm. That briefing very quickly changed tone.
I checked the open-source information sources to prepare my brief. I had to keep at the lowest classification possible, so I used these sources to help do so. An "open source" intelligence source is also known as news-media. The date was 11 September 2001. I do not think I need to tell you what breaking story I found everywhere while I complied my nightly brief.
A former member of our Battalion was in the Pentagon that day. He died in the attack. I had several Soldiers with family members that worked in or near the World Trade Center. One of my best friends had family in the FDNY and NYPD. I had to do one of the hardest things in my life. I had to tell my Soldiers about the attacks. I had to look in their eyes as the images of pure horror filled their brains. No official word had yet been culminated on who was responsible, and no group had yet claimed responsibility. However, the question was asked "Who did this?". I gave the official answer. "Sergeant Mat, you know who did this, don't you? Who?". The words of my best guess came too easily: "That group that attacked the USS Cole, Al Q'aeda".
As soon as I said those words, I knew something in me had changed. I had spent the previous years being more of a vigilant guardian watching for a potential threat to pop its head up and attempt something stupid. Now, that potential threat had reared its head and done something horrific. I was no longer that vigilant guardian. I transformed into a flail of retribution and a sword of wrathful vengeance. I became war.
Coming up in the ranks, one of my mentors was, to use his official pseudonym, J. David Galland, a close associate of COL David Hackworth. Mr. Galland, whom I called "Sergeant Major", once told me that I was a rare retro bit of military equipment. He used to joke that he and I needed to be left alone and put in cases with placards that read "Break Glass Only In Case of War". Usama bin Laden broke that glass. All I can say in response to his little act of war is: "I'm still alive motherfucker. How many times have you and your assholes tried to kill me? I'm still breathing. Where the fuck are you, huh?"
Still, there are days when it is too quiet and a little non-invasive thing will ping on my memories. I sit with a small regret at not having seen this war through to its necessary conclusion. It is far from over. All it takes is five minutes of complacency, and they will attack us again. They are down, but not defeated. This is an enemy we need to kick while he is down until he is unconscious. Then we need to kick him once more to make sure he isn't playing possum. Then we need to watch him and kick him back to sleep the second he starts to stir. If we don't, he will roll away and come back with friends.
Ten years, four tours to Iraq, and numerous trips to places undisclosed, I sit here. I have been retired from the US Army for 41 days, after 24 years of faithful service. Thoughts of many events still well up feelings of anger, wrath, grief, sadness, guilt, and indignation. Like the assassinations of JFK, MLK, and John Lennon, people will, for decades, still share their memories of where they were when the Towers Fell. I not only remember where I was and what I was doing. I also remember who I was and who I became.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The Battle of Southern Arizona (Camarilla Fiction)
Over the past few months, the kindred of Cochise County had been plagued by an army of adobe Terra Cotta warriors. These warriors looked like ancient Japanese Samurai. A demon had risen and was seeking vengeance for the destruction of his daughter a year prior.
The demon-child, in the guise of a young Japanese girl, terrorized the kindred for months. She sacrificed some in bloody rites to other Oni. She ate some of them. Others she compelled into playing games, interrupting their abilities to feed, conduct business, hunt, and survive. Conchobar of the Norn, his sister-wife, and their daughter, Green, attacked the demon. In a harrowing battle that claimed the life of Mebd, Conchobar's twin sister and wife, the three destroyed the demon-child.
Now her father came forth with vengeance determined to destroy all supernaturals until his honor could be restored.
Conchobar, having taken Praxis of Southern Arizona had enough. He claimed that the day of his wedding to Lady Illyana Constantine would mark the destruction of the demon. Kindred from all over the globe heeded the call to battle and massed, prepared to end this foe before his vengeance spread.
The kindred formed 7 teams of fighters, one team of ritualists from various covenants, a team for communications and logistical support, and a team to cover the masquerade lest mortals find out what really lurks in the darkness.
The 6th team of fighters was acutally a lone Dragon named Alice Cross, who took command of one of the strange companies of life-sized Apache dolls and Kachina. Vosh, Bear Sundancer, and several other Crone had set to work, convincing ghosts of Apache and Hopi to fight on the side of the kindred.
The 7th Team was Conchobar's. This was his main effort. He would face the demon-father named Bukogi Reichi Oni. For Conchobar, this would end tonight! The remainder of the teams had the hard job. They had to keep the Terra Cotta Samurai from defending the demon.
The first team, led by Sariel St. James took the field, advancing on the
last known locations of the Terra Cotta in the Northern section of the Mule
Mountains, just to the south of Tombstone. He was accompanied by Thomas Odd,
Danoir, Joan D’Aquitaine, Sara MacAyle, Bishop Abidea, and McKenna
Adrosteas. Upon seeing the statues, the team halted. Sariel performed and
exorcism rite while Joan supported with prayer. Thomas Odd and several
retainers armed with cross-bows shot at the statues, which appeared to be
frozen. 3 of the Terra Cotta burst into bits of rubble from the shots. The
team then advanced on the remaining 2 in sight.
The team halts short, trying to stay out of range of any ranged attacks the
remaining 2 TC may have. Thomas Odd fires and destroys what is left of one
of the remaining two. The retainers fired, harming the remaining TC, causing
great gaping holes in its torso. The clay samurai lets out a war cry and
charges with the full force of a freight train. He impacts a retainer,
impaling him on the adobe katana. The statue then explodes with a blast of
numina, causing multiple deep bruises on a nearby retainer. A hail of arrows
falls around the team, but causes little damage.
Joan’s prayer joins in with Sariel’s next attempt at an exorcism. The
statues again appear frozen. The team closes the distance to the newly
discovered bowmen.
Thomas Odd realizes that the ranged weapons of the bowmen could be
disastrous. He casts Damage Reduction to protect the team. The team moves a
bit closer and holds fire, aiming until they get into better range. The
adobe bowmen loose another volley. A couple of the arrows find their mark
and penetrate one of the retainer’s armor. At this point, the remaining
retainers return fire on the identified target and obliterate one of the
statues. The team advances cautiously.
The prayer and exorcist rite reach a crescendo. The Statues again seem
paralyzed at the might of G-d striking at their core. Now another group of
katana wielding statues is visible, and one lets out a soul-piercing howl
that routes the team momentarily, causing them to flee back down the
mountain.
Through inspiration from Joan and Sariel, the team regains its composure and
advances on the remaining Terra Cotta. Thomas and the retainers fire again,
knowing exactly where their targets are. The shots bring down two of the
swordsmen in a thundering crash of crumbling clay. One of the adobe samurai,
badly damaged, charges and kills one of the retainers. He then explodes in a
blast, knocking two of the remaining retainers to their knees with blood
seeping from their wounds. The remaining retainers heed Sariel’s call to
tighten the lines. The kindred push forward with full force, preparing for
possible melee.
Again, the chants of prayer coming from the LS warriors and faithful seems
to rise to an apex and stop the Terra Cotta in their tracks. Thomas Odd and
the remaining retainers fire again, causing another of the katana-bearers to
crumble. The team reloads.
The team fires one more time, killing the last of the swordsmen in a rain of
crossbow bolts.
The adobe bowmen fire their arrows, concentrating on a single retainer,
killing him.
At the height of the wedding and a joint LS and CoC ritual back at the
rack, the clay samurai seem to be stunned by this act of faith. This energy
pulses through the air, motivating the team. The team takes advantage of the
moment and fires 3 volleys of crossbow bolts at the clay archers. They
concentrate on one, and he explodes in a rain of clay. They fire on a second
and miss. Determined, they aim again at the second target and loose a volley
that disintegrates the kyodo warrior.
The team reloads and advances on the remaining minions of the Father-Demon.
They fire and bring one of the remaining archers down in a cloud of dust.
The archers let out an ear-piercing howl that vibrates through the bones of
the kindred and their remaining retainers. Routed by the mystical energy,
they flee back 300 meters. When they regain their composure, they see the
two remaining archers have turned and fled back towards their master.
The team tends to their wounded and prepares to assist team 2, if called.
The second team, commanded by Raziel Bellmont in conjunction with Missionary
Rachel, Nathan Prince, Joseph Johnson, and Peter Cross and multiple
retainers marched into the central region of the Mule Mountains, just north
of the town of Bisbee. Their mission was to clear Terra Cotta in sector,
then form a blocking line tied into Team 1 in order to prevent the TC from
moving in and stopping the main effort from getting to the demon father.
The LS and Invictus rise in prayer, led by Missionary Rachel. The Terra
Cotta warriors freeze in their tracks paralyzed by the power of the prayer.
There are 10 of them with Naginata in sight. The team uses the initiative to
move within pistol range. Raziel looks around, shaking his head that none
had come armed with bows or rifles. He can sense this is going to be one
heck of a fight.
Raziel lets loose with a Spear of Faith. It seems to
sputter in the wind as though he was distracted by the thought of having to
advance this close. Peter Cross and the retainers fire their pistols in a
unified report in order to conceal how many are shooting. The shot is times
with the lightning. Two Terra Cotta are torn by the bullets, one falling to
a lump of mud on the ground. The other, badly damaged, lets out a war cry
and charges into the formation. He cuts deep with his naginata into one of
the retainers causing mortal wounds. The Clay warrior then detonates in a
psychic blast injuring those around him and leaving the first retainer a
broken body on the desert floor.
Then a rain of clay arrows descends upon
the formation and another retainer falls, his body filled with arrows.
Rachel pulls out her prayer book and begins to lead in another rousing
testament of faith. The Terra Cotta again are held by some mystical force,
as though the faith of the prayer severed his link to the dark Shinto oni
that commands them. Raziel sends out another spear of faith, this time
hitting its mark with all of G-d’s fury behind it. In declining amounts,
four of the clay warriors have huge chunks of adobe burst from their torsos.
The rest of the team fires their pistols at the most damaged samurai,
realizing that they charge when they have taken too much damage. The focused
fire hits the mark and reduces the statue to a pile of mud and dust in the
torrential rains.
Raziel yells to Rachel to continue the prayer before the monsters can move
again. But the break was all they needed to go back into action. The team
advances closer hoping to do better with melee weapons. Raziel looses
another spear of faith into a different group of warriors. This time five of
them burst with massive chunks of dirt flying off of them, leaving gaping
holes. Two warriors, badly damaged from the blast, charge into the
formation, their initial thrusts causing mortal wounds to two more
retainers. Their detonation kills them, and sends waves of deep wounds to
the rest of the formation.
Peter Cross’s retainers use their vitae to heal
some of their wounds, and the gangrel’s unnatural resilience seem to dampen
the effects of the blast. The clay archers fire. Nathan and Joseph can see
some of their vitae mixing with the rain water as they pull the muddy arrows
from their chests.
Rachel’s prayer rises over the din of the monsoon. The clay automatons stop
dead in their tracks. Raziel lets loose with yet another spear of faith,
this time against the clay bowmen. Four of them looks as though grenades
went off in their chests as dust flies from their bodies. The rest of the
team focuses its pistol fire on the most injured archer. The bullets tear
through it and it falls into a pile of broken pottery.
Thinking he has used the spear on all the terra cotta in sight, Raziel lets
fly a bird of sin. The bird manifests on one of the archers and begins
pecking at its eyes. The affected archer bats at the bird as it is torn to
bits by the ritual. The team fires its pistols again, bullets piercing the
enemy archers and tearing off pieces of clay. The archers return fire,
finding purchase in two of Peter’s retainers. The ghouls use their vitae to
heal from the attack. Joseph finds himself wounded yet again from the damned
arrows. Nathan and Joseph charge at the terra cotta, ripping them down where
they stand. The statues explode causing Nathan and Joseph to take more
damage. The remaining warriors swing at Joseph and he falls into torpor from
the damage, despite burning blood to heal. It was enough to save him, but
not enough to stop the sleep of death to render him inanimate. The rest of
the team advances.
Rachel’s prayer again disrupts the unholy flow that allows the terra cotta
to move. Noticing more archers against the rock wall, Raziel lets loose with
another spear of faith at the new targets. Five of the archers explode with
rock and pottery flying from their forms. Peter Cross fires, destroying what
is left of the most damaged samurai.
Raziel lets loose a bird of sin, as does Rachel. One statue swipes at the
bird once before he collapses in a pile of mud. The other begins to take
damage as the bird will peck away pieces of clay for the next few seconds.
The team can feel the power of the unholy wedding taking place. The union
between the pagan nornir and his invictus bride brought LS and Crone
together to officiate the wedding. Their joint prayer and ceremony sends
tides of faith against the statues, rendering them defenseless and immobile.
Peter and two of his ghouls fire at one statue, destroying it. Nathan
charges in and swipes an archer down with his claws. Price fires and kills
another archer. Raziel and Rachel let loose birds of sin that peck at two of
the bowmen. Cross takes aim focusing his and his four retainers fire and
watch as their target disintegrates in a hail of bullets. The archers fire
but fail to strike a single target. Nathan rides his fury and tears of huge
handfuls of clay from another of the bowmen.
Rachel begins her prayer yet again as two of the birds of sin end two more
of the enemies. Nathan strikes with his claws and brings down anther of the
archers. Raziel lets loose with another bird of sin, and it strikes at one
of the remaining foes.
Only one archer remains, and it is being harried by a bird of sin. Cross and
the retainers focus their pistol fire on the remaining statue, obliterating
it as it begins to attempt to flee back to its master. It takes two steps as
it crumbles to the ground.
Raziel leans down and picks up a piece of the clay as a souvenir. They grab
their wounded and head for the link-up point hoping to get time to heal.
Raziel gets word from Joan D’Aquitaine. Kasmir Lanszak has spotted a
formation of terra cotta samurai cavalry headed their way. He has stated
that he thinks he has also spotted the demon father who is yelling
"Conchobar and Green of the Norn, I Bukagi Reichi-oni call you out! Face me
you cowardly worms!"
The team passes around reliquaries and does what it can to heal as much as
possible before the next wave.
Catching news of the impending cavalry charge, teams one and two joined
forces to fend off the counter-attack. Those too wounded to fight stayed
back and helped each other nurse wounds and spend their vitae to heal.
Team 3, under Darius Grey sits in reserve, itching for a fight. They know
that if they rush in, the tactics won’t hold. Their job is to plus up
defenses and rush to assist any team that calls. The reports coming in from
teams 4 and 5 are that they are meeting only small resistance as they clear
the Valley to the south (team 4) and southwest (team 5).
Team 4 under Ruiz finds only small bands of either foot swordsmen or
pole-arm bearers. They use their formation and fight a single unit, seeming
to cut through the soldiers in single passes. They take some bruises, but
nothing that isn’t easily healed. Then they hear of team 1 and 2 joining
together to fend off a cavalry charge. This is what they are good at! Ruiz
changes directions and leads the team into a forced march straight east
towards the mountains.
Team 5, under Orcus, is given the mission to open the valley for the main
effort which is set to strike as soon as the Father-Demon is spotted. They
clear to the Southwest of the Valley towards Carr Canyon. They first
encounter a team of 5 katana wielding foot-soldiers. Their ranged combat
combined with Malachi Decatur’s prayers and rituals make quick work of the
scouting party. They continue closer to the mountains. If they encounter no
more of the walking pottery, then they will set up a defensive barrier at
the mouth of the canyon to stop the creatures from defending their master.
Oddigeson, Desmonov, Telreya, and Solomon Quartermain rounding out the
formation.
Once they get to the mouth of the canyon, they see a massive group of
mix-matched terra cotta moving purposefully in their direction. Behind them,
at the top of the canyon, they see bands of what appear to be Apache
warriors chasing after the Terra Cotta. The Apaches toss tomahawks and shoot
bows, picking off the terra cotta one at a time.
Orcus hears that teams 1 and 2 are preparing for a cavalry charge. He just
feels that Ruiz won’t sit still and knows that it is up to him and his team
to protect the west flank for the main attack. He orders the formation to
close in. Telreya and Malachi give a resounding prayer that stops the terra
cotta cold. The Legio formation charges towards the horde, again fighting as
a unit. Quartermain fires rapidly, with deadly accuracy taking huge chunks
of clay off of the terra cotta with each shot. Taking advantage of the
paralyzed pottery, they hack and swipe at the terra cotta until little
remains but small, sharp shards of clay on the canyon floor. Now within
closer view, and much faster than their adobe counterparts, the team sees
that the Apaches are dolls. They also see many of the terra cotta in the
distance, closer to the dolls, freeze. It appears as though vapors of smoke
or steam rise from the clay bodies and seem to hug the dolls. The dolls
raise their weapons and cheer in their native tongue. Oddigeson heals his
wounds and smiles at the rest of the formation.
Word comes in that another cavalry unit is headed towards them from the
west. The team stands ready to withstand the charge. The Apache dolls take
up ambush positions along the canyon walls to help dwindle the horsemen as
they come past.
The first two teams joined together, leaving the wounded to the side to heal. They were in no shape to continue the fight this night. Many of them would need to feed soon, as well.
Rachel sends of a bird of sin while Raziel looses a spear of faith. The
Spear of faith tears gaping holes into 3 of the cavalry while the bird of
sin pecks holes into a fourth. The four wounded samurai charge in furiously
and cut down the remaining retainers and ghouls. They detonate sending waves
of psychic damage and shrapnel into the formation. The rest of the cavalry
charge behind them, swiping deep cuts into those still standing.
At the end of the charge, as the horsemen wheel around for another pass, Thomas Odd and
Joan D’Aquitaine are the only two in the formation who haven’t fallen into
the death-like sleep from their wounds. Thomas Odd grabs hold of Joan and
says “We need to fall back and regroup, can you move?”
Joan responds, while running to cover, breaking her normal polite protocol “Encole!” She then grabs her radio
“Darius Grey! Pusse ta viande! We need help with wounded.
The cavalry charges through where the formation was and resets somewhere
back in the mountains. The vampires and retainers in the third team quickly
police up the wounded and the vampires in wound-induced torpor and bring
them to a defensive position in a canyon. They start to devise a means to
attack the quick-moving statues. They can hear the rumble of thunder and the
rumble of hooves.
Darius tells Henry Taxis to take charge of team 3 and the remaining kindred
from Teams 1 and 2. Henry directs Daniel Morris and Jackie O. to begin
setting barricades and blocking positions. James Coy looks over a ridge and
sees one lone Kindred, Alice Kross, with a formation of DOLLS! Recognizing
the dolls as those Tira Neuman, Kasmir Lanszak, Bear Sundancer, and Vosh had
dressed to look like local Apache, he lends his vestiges of his mortal
lineage to her formation, directing the Apache dolls to block off the
Cavalry from the rear.
Darius Grey looks down into the valley and sees a formation of Legio
Mortis! The tactics pour through his mind as if by pure instinct. Darius
takes off at his greatest possible speed and joins the Legio Formation of
Team four and directs them towards the incoming cavalry.
With Darius Grey assuming command of Team 4; Ruiz, Serrano, Castor, Sun Wu,
Wade and Gordivea of the Santcified charge ready their gifts. The gangrel
summon their resilience and pop their claws. They take a wedge formation
like a spearhead. This tactic improves upon those of the Spartan Hoplites,
and the kindred attack and defend as a single entity.
The horsemen charge at the Legio. The Legio charge at the horsemen. Just
before the clash, the Legio tighten their phalynx and hit the cavalry
formation with everything they have, in unison. They tear and slice at the
adobe samurai, stripping legs off of the horses and carving into their
torsos. Hardened clay flies all around them.
The Terra Cotta let out with a tremendous cry as they detonate. The formation suffers slight wounds that
would have been lethal to mortals. Castor passes around his reliquaries so
all may refill with precious vitae, heal, and prepare for the next battle.
Meanwhile, Team three; under the command of Henry Taxis, plus Joan
D’Aquitaine spot several groups of Terra Cotta samurai foot-soldiers. None
of these seem too concerned with the kindred, but are making a bee-line down
towards the southern most edges of the Valley, just southwest of the town of
Bisbee. As the clay automatons cross into their lines of sight, they fire
with prayer, ritual, and crossbows onto the small formations, reducing them
to just one or two remaining.
James Coy sends word that he and Alice are
mopping up the rest as they pass them by. The apache dolls are taking
damage, but faring well using ambush tactics on the stragglers.
Then comes a furious voice from the depths of the valley. Standing 10
stories tall is a massive vision of a shogun. “Conchobar the Coward and his
baby bitch, Green! I challenge thee! Fight me with honor!”
At a high rate of speed, come two SUVs. Kindred pile out. One SUV heads up
a mountain to one side, the other to the other side. With a great double-axe
on his back, and garbed in Sioux buckskins, Conchobar looks at the massive
demon and snarls “Here I am. Come and get me, if you dare.”
The kindred with him take up positions around the demon, seeming to make a
circle around Conchobar and the shogun. The vengeance-father booms “Give me
your daughter as you have taken mine or face my wrath, vampire.” Conchobar
responds, “Try to take her!”
Sebastien Belmont jumps from one shadow to another, getting behind the
demon. Bjorn and Green of the Norn flank Prince Conchobar. A two shots ring
out from the mountains, one piercing the demon’s mask just below its eye.
Abahay comes from under his cloak of darkness and strikes with his claws at
the demon. Conchobar strikes as well, to the demon’s leg. The rest of the
kindred attack. The demon wails from the pain caused by the attack. In the
mist from the rain, spirits sent by the forsaken to avenge the clay
creature’s theft of the essence from loci bite and sting at the demon.
Waves of energy and power pulse at the demon, seeming to come from the the Rack.
Vosh, Bear, and Daniel of Canterbury are calling out their power in a
massive joint ritual.
The demon swipes, knocking down one of the kindred. He then lets out an
earth-shaking howl that sends many of the kindred running in unnatural fear.
Now they are angry. Conchobar rides the wave, staying just short of a
frenzy. All of the kindred jump onto the demon. Abahay, Gabriel, and another
gangrel climb onto the beast and tear at it with their claws. Prince Belmont
swipes at the demon, causing him to howl in pain. Conchobar and Bjorn tear
at the demon’s inner thighs. They bring the demon down, screaming “No! No!
No!” The demon’s form wisps away in tendrils of mist and shadow as his
physical form disintegrates under the assault.
“He isn’t gone,” states Sebastian. Prince Belmont then invokes his ability
to strike into the shadows and begins to slash at where the demon stood.
Piercing the dark and coupling with the thunder, all the kindred in the bowl
can hear “No! No! No!” The trio casting the joint ritual push out their
power, stunning the demon, even in his shadow form. The demon continues to
wail “No! No! No!”
Cheering on Sebastian Belmont, Conchobar starts to sing the Nornir chant. Bjorn, Green, and Tira join in. Soon, the rest of the group is chanting with Prince Conchobar, seeming to lend the energy of the Nornir bloodline to Prince Belmont. The vigor and ferocity of the Nornir Chant cuts into the spirit realm, driving the demon to his knees.
Relentlessly, Prince Sebastian lands blow after blow onto the demon. After
several blows, the shadow form explodes, sending waves of energy across the
Valley. The wave traces back to the “Hoe-Down” and rips into Bear, Vosh and
Daniel of Canterbury, injuring them and driving them to ground in pain. But
the pain gives over to smiles of victory.
Team 5 sees the cavalry unit charging. The tomahawks and bows from the
apache tear chunks of earth from the horde. However, thirty strong, the unit
takes little damage. The team braces for the clash of the charge, prepared
to counter-strike in the melee.
Just as the formation is about to impact the kindred, a pulse of energy strikes and the horsemen disintegrate into a wave of mud and pieces of pottery. Telreya looks over at Oddigeson and says “You
need a bath”.
Kasmir reports back to Prince Conchobar that all of the terra cotta fall
apart. All of the apache dolls walked back to Elysium and the ghosts that
animated them seem to have gone back to join their tribes. He then leaves to
help the fighters find safe places to hunt and heal. Daniel of Canterbury
travels with him and offers his reliquaries to waken those rendered into
torpor from their wounds.
This is an account of the "Heroic Battle of Southern Arizona" as presented through Live-Action Roleplay, a form of improvised theater. This battle occurred at the (AZ-009-D) Nomads of Twilight's Regional Featured Game of the Month in August 2011. The tale is a shared story written by the storytellers and the players. All Rights are reserved by the Camarilla. Paul-Gregory Matuszak, US2005065516, Venue Storyteller for AZ-009D Requiem. Vampire the Requiem is Copyright by White Wolf Games. The Camarilla Club utilizes the system on a global-scale chronicle with permission.
The demon-child, in the guise of a young Japanese girl, terrorized the kindred for months. She sacrificed some in bloody rites to other Oni. She ate some of them. Others she compelled into playing games, interrupting their abilities to feed, conduct business, hunt, and survive. Conchobar of the Norn, his sister-wife, and their daughter, Green, attacked the demon. In a harrowing battle that claimed the life of Mebd, Conchobar's twin sister and wife, the three destroyed the demon-child.
Now her father came forth with vengeance determined to destroy all supernaturals until his honor could be restored.
Conchobar, having taken Praxis of Southern Arizona had enough. He claimed that the day of his wedding to Lady Illyana Constantine would mark the destruction of the demon. Kindred from all over the globe heeded the call to battle and massed, prepared to end this foe before his vengeance spread.
The kindred formed 7 teams of fighters, one team of ritualists from various covenants, a team for communications and logistical support, and a team to cover the masquerade lest mortals find out what really lurks in the darkness.
The 6th team of fighters was acutally a lone Dragon named Alice Cross, who took command of one of the strange companies of life-sized Apache dolls and Kachina. Vosh, Bear Sundancer, and several other Crone had set to work, convincing ghosts of Apache and Hopi to fight on the side of the kindred.
The 7th Team was Conchobar's. This was his main effort. He would face the demon-father named Bukogi Reichi Oni. For Conchobar, this would end tonight! The remainder of the teams had the hard job. They had to keep the Terra Cotta Samurai from defending the demon.
The first team, led by Sariel St. James took the field, advancing on the
last known locations of the Terra Cotta in the Northern section of the Mule
Mountains, just to the south of Tombstone. He was accompanied by Thomas Odd,
Danoir, Joan D’Aquitaine, Sara MacAyle, Bishop Abidea, and McKenna
Adrosteas. Upon seeing the statues, the team halted. Sariel performed and
exorcism rite while Joan supported with prayer. Thomas Odd and several
retainers armed with cross-bows shot at the statues, which appeared to be
frozen. 3 of the Terra Cotta burst into bits of rubble from the shots. The
team then advanced on the remaining 2 in sight.
The team halts short, trying to stay out of range of any ranged attacks the
remaining 2 TC may have. Thomas Odd fires and destroys what is left of one
of the remaining two. The retainers fired, harming the remaining TC, causing
great gaping holes in its torso. The clay samurai lets out a war cry and
charges with the full force of a freight train. He impacts a retainer,
impaling him on the adobe katana. The statue then explodes with a blast of
numina, causing multiple deep bruises on a nearby retainer. A hail of arrows
falls around the team, but causes little damage.
Joan’s prayer joins in with Sariel’s next attempt at an exorcism. The
statues again appear frozen. The team closes the distance to the newly
discovered bowmen.
Thomas Odd realizes that the ranged weapons of the bowmen could be
disastrous. He casts Damage Reduction to protect the team. The team moves a
bit closer and holds fire, aiming until they get into better range. The
adobe bowmen loose another volley. A couple of the arrows find their mark
and penetrate one of the retainer’s armor. At this point, the remaining
retainers return fire on the identified target and obliterate one of the
statues. The team advances cautiously.
The prayer and exorcist rite reach a crescendo. The Statues again seem
paralyzed at the might of G-d striking at their core. Now another group of
katana wielding statues is visible, and one lets out a soul-piercing howl
that routes the team momentarily, causing them to flee back down the
mountain.
Through inspiration from Joan and Sariel, the team regains its composure and
advances on the remaining Terra Cotta. Thomas and the retainers fire again,
knowing exactly where their targets are. The shots bring down two of the
swordsmen in a thundering crash of crumbling clay. One of the adobe samurai,
badly damaged, charges and kills one of the retainers. He then explodes in a
blast, knocking two of the remaining retainers to their knees with blood
seeping from their wounds. The remaining retainers heed Sariel’s call to
tighten the lines. The kindred push forward with full force, preparing for
possible melee.
Again, the chants of prayer coming from the LS warriors and faithful seems
to rise to an apex and stop the Terra Cotta in their tracks. Thomas Odd and
the remaining retainers fire again, causing another of the katana-bearers to
crumble. The team reloads.
The team fires one more time, killing the last of the swordsmen in a rain of
crossbow bolts.
The adobe bowmen fire their arrows, concentrating on a single retainer,
killing him.
At the height of the wedding and a joint LS and CoC ritual back at the
rack, the clay samurai seem to be stunned by this act of faith. This energy
pulses through the air, motivating the team. The team takes advantage of the
moment and fires 3 volleys of crossbow bolts at the clay archers. They
concentrate on one, and he explodes in a rain of clay. They fire on a second
and miss. Determined, they aim again at the second target and loose a volley
that disintegrates the kyodo warrior.
The team reloads and advances on the remaining minions of the Father-Demon.
They fire and bring one of the remaining archers down in a cloud of dust.
The archers let out an ear-piercing howl that vibrates through the bones of
the kindred and their remaining retainers. Routed by the mystical energy,
they flee back 300 meters. When they regain their composure, they see the
two remaining archers have turned and fled back towards their master.
The team tends to their wounded and prepares to assist team 2, if called.
The second team, commanded by Raziel Bellmont in conjunction with Missionary
Rachel, Nathan Prince, Joseph Johnson, and Peter Cross and multiple
retainers marched into the central region of the Mule Mountains, just north
of the town of Bisbee. Their mission was to clear Terra Cotta in sector,
then form a blocking line tied into Team 1 in order to prevent the TC from
moving in and stopping the main effort from getting to the demon father.
The LS and Invictus rise in prayer, led by Missionary Rachel. The Terra
Cotta warriors freeze in their tracks paralyzed by the power of the prayer.
There are 10 of them with Naginata in sight. The team uses the initiative to
move within pistol range. Raziel looks around, shaking his head that none
had come armed with bows or rifles. He can sense this is going to be one
heck of a fight.
Raziel lets loose with a Spear of Faith. It seems to
sputter in the wind as though he was distracted by the thought of having to
advance this close. Peter Cross and the retainers fire their pistols in a
unified report in order to conceal how many are shooting. The shot is times
with the lightning. Two Terra Cotta are torn by the bullets, one falling to
a lump of mud on the ground. The other, badly damaged, lets out a war cry
and charges into the formation. He cuts deep with his naginata into one of
the retainers causing mortal wounds. The Clay warrior then detonates in a
psychic blast injuring those around him and leaving the first retainer a
broken body on the desert floor.
Then a rain of clay arrows descends upon
the formation and another retainer falls, his body filled with arrows.
Rachel pulls out her prayer book and begins to lead in another rousing
testament of faith. The Terra Cotta again are held by some mystical force,
as though the faith of the prayer severed his link to the dark Shinto oni
that commands them. Raziel sends out another spear of faith, this time
hitting its mark with all of G-d’s fury behind it. In declining amounts,
four of the clay warriors have huge chunks of adobe burst from their torsos.
The rest of the team fires their pistols at the most damaged samurai,
realizing that they charge when they have taken too much damage. The focused
fire hits the mark and reduces the statue to a pile of mud and dust in the
torrential rains.
Raziel yells to Rachel to continue the prayer before the monsters can move
again. But the break was all they needed to go back into action. The team
advances closer hoping to do better with melee weapons. Raziel looses
another spear of faith into a different group of warriors. This time five of
them burst with massive chunks of dirt flying off of them, leaving gaping
holes. Two warriors, badly damaged from the blast, charge into the
formation, their initial thrusts causing mortal wounds to two more
retainers. Their detonation kills them, and sends waves of deep wounds to
the rest of the formation.
Peter Cross’s retainers use their vitae to heal
some of their wounds, and the gangrel’s unnatural resilience seem to dampen
the effects of the blast. The clay archers fire. Nathan and Joseph can see
some of their vitae mixing with the rain water as they pull the muddy arrows
from their chests.
Rachel’s prayer rises over the din of the monsoon. The clay automatons stop
dead in their tracks. Raziel lets loose with yet another spear of faith,
this time against the clay bowmen. Four of them looks as though grenades
went off in their chests as dust flies from their bodies. The rest of the
team focuses its pistol fire on the most injured archer. The bullets tear
through it and it falls into a pile of broken pottery.
Thinking he has used the spear on all the terra cotta in sight, Raziel lets
fly a bird of sin. The bird manifests on one of the archers and begins
pecking at its eyes. The affected archer bats at the bird as it is torn to
bits by the ritual. The team fires its pistols again, bullets piercing the
enemy archers and tearing off pieces of clay. The archers return fire,
finding purchase in two of Peter’s retainers. The ghouls use their vitae to
heal from the attack. Joseph finds himself wounded yet again from the damned
arrows. Nathan and Joseph charge at the terra cotta, ripping them down where
they stand. The statues explode causing Nathan and Joseph to take more
damage. The remaining warriors swing at Joseph and he falls into torpor from
the damage, despite burning blood to heal. It was enough to save him, but
not enough to stop the sleep of death to render him inanimate. The rest of
the team advances.
Rachel’s prayer again disrupts the unholy flow that allows the terra cotta
to move. Noticing more archers against the rock wall, Raziel lets loose with
another spear of faith at the new targets. Five of the archers explode with
rock and pottery flying from their forms. Peter Cross fires, destroying what
is left of the most damaged samurai.
Raziel lets loose a bird of sin, as does Rachel. One statue swipes at the
bird once before he collapses in a pile of mud. The other begins to take
damage as the bird will peck away pieces of clay for the next few seconds.
The team can feel the power of the unholy wedding taking place. The union
between the pagan nornir and his invictus bride brought LS and Crone
together to officiate the wedding. Their joint prayer and ceremony sends
tides of faith against the statues, rendering them defenseless and immobile.
Peter and two of his ghouls fire at one statue, destroying it. Nathan
charges in and swipes an archer down with his claws. Price fires and kills
another archer. Raziel and Rachel let loose birds of sin that peck at two of
the bowmen. Cross takes aim focusing his and his four retainers fire and
watch as their target disintegrates in a hail of bullets. The archers fire
but fail to strike a single target. Nathan rides his fury and tears of huge
handfuls of clay from another of the bowmen.
Rachel begins her prayer yet again as two of the birds of sin end two more
of the enemies. Nathan strikes with his claws and brings down anther of the
archers. Raziel lets loose with another bird of sin, and it strikes at one
of the remaining foes.
Only one archer remains, and it is being harried by a bird of sin. Cross and
the retainers focus their pistol fire on the remaining statue, obliterating
it as it begins to attempt to flee back to its master. It takes two steps as
it crumbles to the ground.
Raziel leans down and picks up a piece of the clay as a souvenir. They grab
their wounded and head for the link-up point hoping to get time to heal.
Raziel gets word from Joan D’Aquitaine. Kasmir Lanszak has spotted a
formation of terra cotta samurai cavalry headed their way. He has stated
that he thinks he has also spotted the demon father who is yelling
"Conchobar and Green of the Norn, I Bukagi Reichi-oni call you out! Face me
you cowardly worms!"
The team passes around reliquaries and does what it can to heal as much as
possible before the next wave.
Catching news of the impending cavalry charge, teams one and two joined
forces to fend off the counter-attack. Those too wounded to fight stayed
back and helped each other nurse wounds and spend their vitae to heal.
Team 3, under Darius Grey sits in reserve, itching for a fight. They know
that if they rush in, the tactics won’t hold. Their job is to plus up
defenses and rush to assist any team that calls. The reports coming in from
teams 4 and 5 are that they are meeting only small resistance as they clear
the Valley to the south (team 4) and southwest (team 5).
Team 4 under Ruiz finds only small bands of either foot swordsmen or
pole-arm bearers. They use their formation and fight a single unit, seeming
to cut through the soldiers in single passes. They take some bruises, but
nothing that isn’t easily healed. Then they hear of team 1 and 2 joining
together to fend off a cavalry charge. This is what they are good at! Ruiz
changes directions and leads the team into a forced march straight east
towards the mountains.
Team 5, under Orcus, is given the mission to open the valley for the main
effort which is set to strike as soon as the Father-Demon is spotted. They
clear to the Southwest of the Valley towards Carr Canyon. They first
encounter a team of 5 katana wielding foot-soldiers. Their ranged combat
combined with Malachi Decatur’s prayers and rituals make quick work of the
scouting party. They continue closer to the mountains. If they encounter no
more of the walking pottery, then they will set up a defensive barrier at
the mouth of the canyon to stop the creatures from defending their master.
Oddigeson, Desmonov, Telreya, and Solomon Quartermain rounding out the
formation.
Once they get to the mouth of the canyon, they see a massive group of
mix-matched terra cotta moving purposefully in their direction. Behind them,
at the top of the canyon, they see bands of what appear to be Apache
warriors chasing after the Terra Cotta. The Apaches toss tomahawks and shoot
bows, picking off the terra cotta one at a time.
Orcus hears that teams 1 and 2 are preparing for a cavalry charge. He just
feels that Ruiz won’t sit still and knows that it is up to him and his team
to protect the west flank for the main attack. He orders the formation to
close in. Telreya and Malachi give a resounding prayer that stops the terra
cotta cold. The Legio formation charges towards the horde, again fighting as
a unit. Quartermain fires rapidly, with deadly accuracy taking huge chunks
of clay off of the terra cotta with each shot. Taking advantage of the
paralyzed pottery, they hack and swipe at the terra cotta until little
remains but small, sharp shards of clay on the canyon floor. Now within
closer view, and much faster than their adobe counterparts, the team sees
that the Apaches are dolls. They also see many of the terra cotta in the
distance, closer to the dolls, freeze. It appears as though vapors of smoke
or steam rise from the clay bodies and seem to hug the dolls. The dolls
raise their weapons and cheer in their native tongue. Oddigeson heals his
wounds and smiles at the rest of the formation.
Word comes in that another cavalry unit is headed towards them from the
west. The team stands ready to withstand the charge. The Apache dolls take
up ambush positions along the canyon walls to help dwindle the horsemen as
they come past.
The first two teams joined together, leaving the wounded to the side to heal. They were in no shape to continue the fight this night. Many of them would need to feed soon, as well.
Rachel sends of a bird of sin while Raziel looses a spear of faith. The
Spear of faith tears gaping holes into 3 of the cavalry while the bird of
sin pecks holes into a fourth. The four wounded samurai charge in furiously
and cut down the remaining retainers and ghouls. They detonate sending waves
of psychic damage and shrapnel into the formation. The rest of the cavalry
charge behind them, swiping deep cuts into those still standing.
At the end of the charge, as the horsemen wheel around for another pass, Thomas Odd and
Joan D’Aquitaine are the only two in the formation who haven’t fallen into
the death-like sleep from their wounds. Thomas Odd grabs hold of Joan and
says “We need to fall back and regroup, can you move?”
Joan responds, while running to cover, breaking her normal polite protocol “Encole!” She then grabs her radio
“Darius Grey! Pusse ta viande! We need help with wounded.
The cavalry charges through where the formation was and resets somewhere
back in the mountains. The vampires and retainers in the third team quickly
police up the wounded and the vampires in wound-induced torpor and bring
them to a defensive position in a canyon. They start to devise a means to
attack the quick-moving statues. They can hear the rumble of thunder and the
rumble of hooves.
Darius tells Henry Taxis to take charge of team 3 and the remaining kindred
from Teams 1 and 2. Henry directs Daniel Morris and Jackie O. to begin
setting barricades and blocking positions. James Coy looks over a ridge and
sees one lone Kindred, Alice Kross, with a formation of DOLLS! Recognizing
the dolls as those Tira Neuman, Kasmir Lanszak, Bear Sundancer, and Vosh had
dressed to look like local Apache, he lends his vestiges of his mortal
lineage to her formation, directing the Apache dolls to block off the
Cavalry from the rear.
Darius Grey looks down into the valley and sees a formation of Legio
Mortis! The tactics pour through his mind as if by pure instinct. Darius
takes off at his greatest possible speed and joins the Legio Formation of
Team four and directs them towards the incoming cavalry.
With Darius Grey assuming command of Team 4; Ruiz, Serrano, Castor, Sun Wu,
Wade and Gordivea of the Santcified charge ready their gifts. The gangrel
summon their resilience and pop their claws. They take a wedge formation
like a spearhead. This tactic improves upon those of the Spartan Hoplites,
and the kindred attack and defend as a single entity.
The horsemen charge at the Legio. The Legio charge at the horsemen. Just
before the clash, the Legio tighten their phalynx and hit the cavalry
formation with everything they have, in unison. They tear and slice at the
adobe samurai, stripping legs off of the horses and carving into their
torsos. Hardened clay flies all around them.
The Terra Cotta let out with a tremendous cry as they detonate. The formation suffers slight wounds that
would have been lethal to mortals. Castor passes around his reliquaries so
all may refill with precious vitae, heal, and prepare for the next battle.
Meanwhile, Team three; under the command of Henry Taxis, plus Joan
D’Aquitaine spot several groups of Terra Cotta samurai foot-soldiers. None
of these seem too concerned with the kindred, but are making a bee-line down
towards the southern most edges of the Valley, just southwest of the town of
Bisbee. As the clay automatons cross into their lines of sight, they fire
with prayer, ritual, and crossbows onto the small formations, reducing them
to just one or two remaining.
James Coy sends word that he and Alice are
mopping up the rest as they pass them by. The apache dolls are taking
damage, but faring well using ambush tactics on the stragglers.
Then comes a furious voice from the depths of the valley. Standing 10
stories tall is a massive vision of a shogun. “Conchobar the Coward and his
baby bitch, Green! I challenge thee! Fight me with honor!”
At a high rate of speed, come two SUVs. Kindred pile out. One SUV heads up
a mountain to one side, the other to the other side. With a great double-axe
on his back, and garbed in Sioux buckskins, Conchobar looks at the massive
demon and snarls “Here I am. Come and get me, if you dare.”
The kindred with him take up positions around the demon, seeming to make a
circle around Conchobar and the shogun. The vengeance-father booms “Give me
your daughter as you have taken mine or face my wrath, vampire.” Conchobar
responds, “Try to take her!”
Sebastien Belmont jumps from one shadow to another, getting behind the
demon. Bjorn and Green of the Norn flank Prince Conchobar. A two shots ring
out from the mountains, one piercing the demon’s mask just below its eye.
Abahay comes from under his cloak of darkness and strikes with his claws at
the demon. Conchobar strikes as well, to the demon’s leg. The rest of the
kindred attack. The demon wails from the pain caused by the attack. In the
mist from the rain, spirits sent by the forsaken to avenge the clay
creature’s theft of the essence from loci bite and sting at the demon.
Waves of energy and power pulse at the demon, seeming to come from the the Rack.
Vosh, Bear, and Daniel of Canterbury are calling out their power in a
massive joint ritual.
The demon swipes, knocking down one of the kindred. He then lets out an
earth-shaking howl that sends many of the kindred running in unnatural fear.
Now they are angry. Conchobar rides the wave, staying just short of a
frenzy. All of the kindred jump onto the demon. Abahay, Gabriel, and another
gangrel climb onto the beast and tear at it with their claws. Prince Belmont
swipes at the demon, causing him to howl in pain. Conchobar and Bjorn tear
at the demon’s inner thighs. They bring the demon down, screaming “No! No!
No!” The demon’s form wisps away in tendrils of mist and shadow as his
physical form disintegrates under the assault.
“He isn’t gone,” states Sebastian. Prince Belmont then invokes his ability
to strike into the shadows and begins to slash at where the demon stood.
Piercing the dark and coupling with the thunder, all the kindred in the bowl
can hear “No! No! No!” The trio casting the joint ritual push out their
power, stunning the demon, even in his shadow form. The demon continues to
wail “No! No! No!”
Cheering on Sebastian Belmont, Conchobar starts to sing the Nornir chant. Bjorn, Green, and Tira join in. Soon, the rest of the group is chanting with Prince Conchobar, seeming to lend the energy of the Nornir bloodline to Prince Belmont. The vigor and ferocity of the Nornir Chant cuts into the spirit realm, driving the demon to his knees.
Relentlessly, Prince Sebastian lands blow after blow onto the demon. After
several blows, the shadow form explodes, sending waves of energy across the
Valley. The wave traces back to the “Hoe-Down” and rips into Bear, Vosh and
Daniel of Canterbury, injuring them and driving them to ground in pain. But
the pain gives over to smiles of victory.
Team 5 sees the cavalry unit charging. The tomahawks and bows from the
apache tear chunks of earth from the horde. However, thirty strong, the unit
takes little damage. The team braces for the clash of the charge, prepared
to counter-strike in the melee.
Just as the formation is about to impact the kindred, a pulse of energy strikes and the horsemen disintegrate into a wave of mud and pieces of pottery. Telreya looks over at Oddigeson and says “You
need a bath”.
Kasmir reports back to Prince Conchobar that all of the terra cotta fall
apart. All of the apache dolls walked back to Elysium and the ghosts that
animated them seem to have gone back to join their tribes. He then leaves to
help the fighters find safe places to hunt and heal. Daniel of Canterbury
travels with him and offers his reliquaries to waken those rendered into
torpor from their wounds.
This is an account of the "Heroic Battle of Southern Arizona" as presented through Live-Action Roleplay, a form of improvised theater. This battle occurred at the (AZ-009-D) Nomads of Twilight's Regional Featured Game of the Month in August 2011. The tale is a shared story written by the storytellers and the players. All Rights are reserved by the Camarilla. Paul-Gregory Matuszak, US2005065516, Venue Storyteller for AZ-009D Requiem. Vampire the Requiem is Copyright by White Wolf Games. The Camarilla Club utilizes the system on a global-scale chronicle with permission.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Battling the Beast at the Gates of Sierra Vista
On the 12th of June, a fire was started in the southern most reaches of the Coronado Forest. From the way the fire has spread, it is currently being investigated as an arson set against one of our National Monuments with intent to obfuscate smugglers or border jumpers invading our country.
Having seen what I have seen and done what I have done over the past 24 years, I can do little but see this as an act of terrorism against my country, my county, my beloved mountains, my community, my friends and my home.
Since the 12th, the beast has raged across the southern boundary of the place I now call home. A monument on top of a mountain I love to scale because of its magnificent southern exposure to the Montezuma Pass is now covered in ashes and soot. Friends are now homeless refugees evacuated from the smoke and flame. They sit awaiting news on if their houses still stand and are safe to inhabit again.
Since the 15th, the beast has more than doubled its carnage, spreading from just under 8000 acres to now, on the 17th of June, over 18,000 acres. 7000 acres were consumed between 8pm last night and 9am this morning. This beast will not be tamed easily.
I have done some to assist those I could. I feel retrained and limited in what I can do at this time. If you have ever faced such devastation first hand, the words "awesome" and "awful" seem to intermingle in meaning at the pure power the elements bring to bare. Wind and Flame consume the Earth, water is doing little to suppress. While Japan reeled from water's forces, here we sit besieged by water's mirror twin. On the east coast, I read of people hoping flooding doesn't increase from storms. Here, we wish for those storms.
Mark my words, should I find those who started this fire within my sights, I will roast them slowly on a spit and feed them to the four-legged coyotes who wander the valley out my north-facing windows. There can be no doubt, if they did this intentionally or as part of a criminal act such as invading my country, they have committed an act of terrorism.
Just as when terrorists struck our country in 2001, I have stood vigil and ready for action. Just like when in 2003 we went to war against one of the countries found to have supported those terrorists, I stand ready to charge into the fray. As we carried one refugee back towards his home to assist getting the rest of his family to safety, I looked up and saw the blackest of clouds.
The black cloud and the dust painted orange from the flames reminded me of the push from the Karbala Gap towards Baghdad. A huge sandstorm blew in. Many structures and military vehicles burned black across the horizon. We dubbed those the "three days of eternal night", as we could only tell the time of day from a watch. It was the war and devastation from Iraq in 2003 that I saw when I looked south at that smoke and blowing dust that marked the stampede of the beast. The beast has a name. "The Arizona Monument Fire". It has an equally angry twin in the Chiricahua Mountains to the East of Tombstone, named "The Second Horseshoe Canyon Fire". A third that burned a short time near Patagonia Arizona last month is another part of this plague. Terrorists and criminals from Mexico most likely released all three of these beasts from their cage in order to divert attention away from their invasion and to induce fear among the innocent and hard working citizens of Arizona.
The Red Cross is running short of funds and supplies. They could use some volunteers. Contact them and see what you can do to help.
I am running a bit of a fundraiser tomorrow to help raise some funds. If you like to or are interested in trying your hand at some live-action role-play, come to Pyramid Comics in Sierra Vista.
Sunday I will be back out there, doing with my hands, head, and heart what I can.
Having seen what I have seen and done what I have done over the past 24 years, I can do little but see this as an act of terrorism against my country, my county, my beloved mountains, my community, my friends and my home.
Since the 12th, the beast has raged across the southern boundary of the place I now call home. A monument on top of a mountain I love to scale because of its magnificent southern exposure to the Montezuma Pass is now covered in ashes and soot. Friends are now homeless refugees evacuated from the smoke and flame. They sit awaiting news on if their houses still stand and are safe to inhabit again.
Since the 15th, the beast has more than doubled its carnage, spreading from just under 8000 acres to now, on the 17th of June, over 18,000 acres. 7000 acres were consumed between 8pm last night and 9am this morning. This beast will not be tamed easily.
I have done some to assist those I could. I feel retrained and limited in what I can do at this time. If you have ever faced such devastation first hand, the words "awesome" and "awful" seem to intermingle in meaning at the pure power the elements bring to bare. Wind and Flame consume the Earth, water is doing little to suppress. While Japan reeled from water's forces, here we sit besieged by water's mirror twin. On the east coast, I read of people hoping flooding doesn't increase from storms. Here, we wish for those storms.
Mark my words, should I find those who started this fire within my sights, I will roast them slowly on a spit and feed them to the four-legged coyotes who wander the valley out my north-facing windows. There can be no doubt, if they did this intentionally or as part of a criminal act such as invading my country, they have committed an act of terrorism.
Just as when terrorists struck our country in 2001, I have stood vigil and ready for action. Just like when in 2003 we went to war against one of the countries found to have supported those terrorists, I stand ready to charge into the fray. As we carried one refugee back towards his home to assist getting the rest of his family to safety, I looked up and saw the blackest of clouds.
The black cloud and the dust painted orange from the flames reminded me of the push from the Karbala Gap towards Baghdad. A huge sandstorm blew in. Many structures and military vehicles burned black across the horizon. We dubbed those the "three days of eternal night", as we could only tell the time of day from a watch. It was the war and devastation from Iraq in 2003 that I saw when I looked south at that smoke and blowing dust that marked the stampede of the beast. The beast has a name. "The Arizona Monument Fire". It has an equally angry twin in the Chiricahua Mountains to the East of Tombstone, named "The Second Horseshoe Canyon Fire". A third that burned a short time near Patagonia Arizona last month is another part of this plague. Terrorists and criminals from Mexico most likely released all three of these beasts from their cage in order to divert attention away from their invasion and to induce fear among the innocent and hard working citizens of Arizona.
The Red Cross is running short of funds and supplies. They could use some volunteers. Contact them and see what you can do to help.
I am running a bit of a fundraiser tomorrow to help raise some funds. If you like to or are interested in trying your hand at some live-action role-play, come to Pyramid Comics in Sierra Vista.
Sunday I will be back out there, doing with my hands, head, and heart what I can.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Socialism Attacking Our Military as Atlas Feels a Cramp in His Traps.
In the past few days several articles have hit the news and other publication covering the topic. Now, it isn't big enough news for Fox, CNN, MSNBC, etc. to carry in headlines. I guess that taking steps against long-fought strides towards warranted equity in compensation for services rendered by those who support and defend the US Constitution just isn't a big enough news story compared to the sensationalism of a single murder trial. But several "trade" publications for professional Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and Air-matresses find it front page news. Military.com just released an article. Army Times came out last Tuesday with an article detailing the proposals for cuts in pay, pension, and benefits for both active and retirees. So, some quick searches and research will get backing information.
I have served 24 years now. I am retiring from military service, finally. I will say that I have earned my pension and benefits. I know of private sector companies who provide compensations and benefits for retirement after only ten years with the company. The same goes with Police and Fire workers. Well, I have done 24, more than twice that time. During the past 12, I have paid into a federal employee pension fund similar to a 401k, as well. To threaten to cut my military pension AND my "401k" ROI Is ludacris. I am not looking for some entitlement just for breathing. I did the work. I earned this. I am OWED this.
Also, during my 24 years, I have witnessed several veterans lobbying groups fight for military pay to have a closer equity to private sector jobs. When I came active, minimum wage was $3.35 an hour. The dude who sat in a chair and watched to see if a red light blinked on an assembly line in an automotive plant made $17.00 an hour. A highly trained soldier at the rank of Specialist (E-4) with 3 years of experience beyond basic training made a salary of $1300 a month. That job entailed working through 2 weekends every month, being in the field, getting 4 hours of sleep a night. That sleep usually was interrupted with 1-2 hours of guard duty in the middle of it, meaning it was not consecutive hours. This was "peace time". This did not include deployed soldiers. This was just "training", or maintaining a state of readiness to have to do the job. Some jobs in the military involved actually doing the job for real world missions even during peace time. Jobs like intelligence who actively search for any threats to our national security, or medics who tend to the sick the best they can. EMTs who are expected to practice medicine at the levels of a medical school graduate just starting his internship. Work hours when not in the field were 12-14 hour days. When in the field, they are 20 hour days, for 15 days straight. If you add up the hours worked in an average month, you get about 400. If paid minimum wage, considering overtime pay, the soldier would have made almost $1800 a month. And that is at minimum wage, what is paid to unskilled laborer just starting at McDonald's. After 3 months, the McDonald's worker gets a raise. The E-4 pay is after 3 promotions plus a longevity raise. I have seen lobbyists push laws to correct this trend.
We used to have SGTs, who are lower management equivilants in private sector jobs, perhaps equal to a foreman at a factory, qualifying to FOOD STAMPS! And I am not talking about your 20 year old E3 who married the first girl to kiss him in HS and escaped from the trailer park. I am talking about your 6-8 year longevity professional in his mid to late 20s with a wife of 2 years and a single, six month old child. Steps were made to rectify that.
The medical system, stateside, made the horrors depicted in movies about the lack of medical care at post-Vietnam VA Clinics look efficient. It was a purely socialist style system where only those who could prove sufficient need were treated. I know of guys who walked on broken legs for six months to a year before finally getting an X-ray or MRI. Instead of a cast for a few weeks, they end up having surgery, on cruches for months after, and discharged from the military for no longer being fit for duty due to the injury. The military got smart and went to a hybrid system that is partially private sector. The government bought into health insurance benefits for the serving soldiers coupled with an option to PURCHASE the same or slightly better care for family members. Over the years, the military has taken steps to improve its internal system by workign with the private sector industry. Soldiers no longer have to take bus and train rides across several states to see the one military surgeon capable of putting a couple of screws into a shattered patellar plane at the top of the tibia. With the private sector hybrid system, he could now, finally, go to the nearest hospital and have a local specialist do the same operation. This saved travel costs, healing time, etc. It also enabled soldiers to be treated in a timely fashion, and remain in service after healing. The military has changed insurance companies and plans a few times and finally has something that almost comes close to what you can get with a Humanna plan.
Huge steps have been taken over the past 24 years, and rightly so. But many socialists, also known as "progressives", also known as "liberals" want to take earned pay and benefits away. Suggestions to do so have been made since mid-2008. These champions of the lazy, the illegal, the illiterate, and the immoral compare the pay and benefits earned by a Soldier to the so-called entitlements paid out to unemployed drug addicts that trade their bodies for poison and pop out infants born addicted to the same drugs. With the rise in unemployment, they equate militay pay and benefits to unemployment insurance payouts. They see the WORKING Soldiers as equal to or less than those without jobs either by choice or poor economic conditions. I understand that good people are out of work. But if they are not working, currently, they are not earning. How can you compare somebody who IS employed and is bound by federal laws and a legal contract to provide the services they are providing to those who are not? But the "progressives" see the earnings of Soldiers as the same as "entitlements" handed out to those who are not.
Go to your local Police or Fire union and tell them that your local government is cutting their pay because the unemployed, crack-smoking parolee that passes out and sets fires in their drug-induced withdrawl stupor is "entitled" to more than they are. Go to your local public school and tell the faculty that all of their paychecks will be cut by 25%, and that they will pay double their health insurance premiums (or in some states, actually have to pay their own health care premiums, in part) so that the school can provide gormet lunches to the anchor-babies and illegal immigrants in their classes.
Now the new SECDEF is planning to cut those benefits, or force the soldier to pay more for the benefits. I say "pay more" because the benefits for family members are NOT included in miltary paychecks. Well, now they want to make even the Soldiers' policy no longer part of the paycheck. By the proposal, it would mean that soldiers would have to pay for medical treatment, even in combat. The proposal includes soldiers having to make co-pays for all medications issued. It also includes a proposal for Soldiers injured in combat to pay a deductible for care recieved while serving. The new SECDEF has also supported freezing annual cost of living raises (usually about 2% a year). Then he PROPOSED possibly cutting military salaries.
And one thing for everybody to think about. Go READ Article One of the US Constitution. It EXPLICITY states that congress will enact laws to extract revenues from the citizens and use it for very EXPLICITY stated functions. Among these things they must budget revenues to maintain are the military and national defense. NOWHERE are they given the authority to collect taxes and levies to give "entitlements" to the unemployed, crack-whore parolee. So, somebody needs to explain to them, and to those of us literite enough to read the 26 page long document known as the US Constitution where they get off taking what is earned by those who WORK HARD and put life and limb on the line to protect this great nation in order to not have to cut the unconstitutional pay-outs to the unearning and undeserving.
I have served 24 years now. I am retiring from military service, finally. I will say that I have earned my pension and benefits. I know of private sector companies who provide compensations and benefits for retirement after only ten years with the company. The same goes with Police and Fire workers. Well, I have done 24, more than twice that time. During the past 12, I have paid into a federal employee pension fund similar to a 401k, as well. To threaten to cut my military pension AND my "401k" ROI Is ludacris. I am not looking for some entitlement just for breathing. I did the work. I earned this. I am OWED this.
Also, during my 24 years, I have witnessed several veterans lobbying groups fight for military pay to have a closer equity to private sector jobs. When I came active, minimum wage was $3.35 an hour. The dude who sat in a chair and watched to see if a red light blinked on an assembly line in an automotive plant made $17.00 an hour. A highly trained soldier at the rank of Specialist (E-4) with 3 years of experience beyond basic training made a salary of $1300 a month. That job entailed working through 2 weekends every month, being in the field, getting 4 hours of sleep a night. That sleep usually was interrupted with 1-2 hours of guard duty in the middle of it, meaning it was not consecutive hours. This was "peace time". This did not include deployed soldiers. This was just "training", or maintaining a state of readiness to have to do the job. Some jobs in the military involved actually doing the job for real world missions even during peace time. Jobs like intelligence who actively search for any threats to our national security, or medics who tend to the sick the best they can. EMTs who are expected to practice medicine at the levels of a medical school graduate just starting his internship. Work hours when not in the field were 12-14 hour days. When in the field, they are 20 hour days, for 15 days straight. If you add up the hours worked in an average month, you get about 400. If paid minimum wage, considering overtime pay, the soldier would have made almost $1800 a month. And that is at minimum wage, what is paid to unskilled laborer just starting at McDonald's. After 3 months, the McDonald's worker gets a raise. The E-4 pay is after 3 promotions plus a longevity raise. I have seen lobbyists push laws to correct this trend.
We used to have SGTs, who are lower management equivilants in private sector jobs, perhaps equal to a foreman at a factory, qualifying to FOOD STAMPS! And I am not talking about your 20 year old E3 who married the first girl to kiss him in HS and escaped from the trailer park. I am talking about your 6-8 year longevity professional in his mid to late 20s with a wife of 2 years and a single, six month old child. Steps were made to rectify that.
The medical system, stateside, made the horrors depicted in movies about the lack of medical care at post-Vietnam VA Clinics look efficient. It was a purely socialist style system where only those who could prove sufficient need were treated. I know of guys who walked on broken legs for six months to a year before finally getting an X-ray or MRI. Instead of a cast for a few weeks, they end up having surgery, on cruches for months after, and discharged from the military for no longer being fit for duty due to the injury. The military got smart and went to a hybrid system that is partially private sector. The government bought into health insurance benefits for the serving soldiers coupled with an option to PURCHASE the same or slightly better care for family members. Over the years, the military has taken steps to improve its internal system by workign with the private sector industry. Soldiers no longer have to take bus and train rides across several states to see the one military surgeon capable of putting a couple of screws into a shattered patellar plane at the top of the tibia. With the private sector hybrid system, he could now, finally, go to the nearest hospital and have a local specialist do the same operation. This saved travel costs, healing time, etc. It also enabled soldiers to be treated in a timely fashion, and remain in service after healing. The military has changed insurance companies and plans a few times and finally has something that almost comes close to what you can get with a Humanna plan.
Huge steps have been taken over the past 24 years, and rightly so. But many socialists, also known as "progressives", also known as "liberals" want to take earned pay and benefits away. Suggestions to do so have been made since mid-2008. These champions of the lazy, the illegal, the illiterate, and the immoral compare the pay and benefits earned by a Soldier to the so-called entitlements paid out to unemployed drug addicts that trade their bodies for poison and pop out infants born addicted to the same drugs. With the rise in unemployment, they equate militay pay and benefits to unemployment insurance payouts. They see the WORKING Soldiers as equal to or less than those without jobs either by choice or poor economic conditions. I understand that good people are out of work. But if they are not working, currently, they are not earning. How can you compare somebody who IS employed and is bound by federal laws and a legal contract to provide the services they are providing to those who are not? But the "progressives" see the earnings of Soldiers as the same as "entitlements" handed out to those who are not.
Go to your local Police or Fire union and tell them that your local government is cutting their pay because the unemployed, crack-smoking parolee that passes out and sets fires in their drug-induced withdrawl stupor is "entitled" to more than they are. Go to your local public school and tell the faculty that all of their paychecks will be cut by 25%, and that they will pay double their health insurance premiums (or in some states, actually have to pay their own health care premiums, in part) so that the school can provide gormet lunches to the anchor-babies and illegal immigrants in their classes.
Now the new SECDEF is planning to cut those benefits, or force the soldier to pay more for the benefits. I say "pay more" because the benefits for family members are NOT included in miltary paychecks. Well, now they want to make even the Soldiers' policy no longer part of the paycheck. By the proposal, it would mean that soldiers would have to pay for medical treatment, even in combat. The proposal includes soldiers having to make co-pays for all medications issued. It also includes a proposal for Soldiers injured in combat to pay a deductible for care recieved while serving. The new SECDEF has also supported freezing annual cost of living raises (usually about 2% a year). Then he PROPOSED possibly cutting military salaries.
And one thing for everybody to think about. Go READ Article One of the US Constitution. It EXPLICITY states that congress will enact laws to extract revenues from the citizens and use it for very EXPLICITY stated functions. Among these things they must budget revenues to maintain are the military and national defense. NOWHERE are they given the authority to collect taxes and levies to give "entitlements" to the unemployed, crack-whore parolee. So, somebody needs to explain to them, and to those of us literite enough to read the 26 page long document known as the US Constitution where they get off taking what is earned by those who WORK HARD and put life and limb on the line to protect this great nation in order to not have to cut the unconstitutional pay-outs to the unearning and undeserving.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Schuyler B. Haynes
So many fond memories. The order of them has muddled over the years.
We discussed the deep philosophical topics such as Marvel versus DC comics and their universes. In the end, we both agreed that Batman and Wolverine kicked butt and should team up.
When he found I had an interest in Rugby, he let me know he had just finished a tour on the Fort Lewis team that had won the all-Army competition. So, he taught me how to play.
He always picked his feet up as he walked, like he was marching in as part of the Old Guard at Arlington.
In Panama, he was there to commiserate the seemingly childish pranks the other guys played on each other to blow off steam. Then he calmed me down after I had to rescue the same refugee from killing himself for the third time in a week.
When Matt and I "gothed-up" to hit the underground sub-culture clubs in Seattle, he made the small-minded Soldiers think twice about their pre-judgments. Then again, Matt is huge guy. We almost got Schuyler to go with us once. Instead, we all ended up at Cheers West drinking Guinness, except for Matt, who didn't drink. That worked out as Matt served as the perfect DD. Matt and I did get Schuyler to go with us to another hidden haunt called "The Owl and Thistle". Schuyler loved the place with it's Scottish theme decked out in Rugby memorabilia. It became a Saturday afternoon routine.
When Schuyler moved to Alaska, I was the only one in the unit he kept in contact with. We sent postcards back and forth for years until in 1998 I ended up back in Germany. We lost contact somehow. I think the digital age had caught up with us and we never got the chance to exchange email addresses.
After our tour to Panama, I had come to a decision to re-enlist in the Army for another hitch. I decided to give MI a try. I made a stink that I would do those 3 years and be done, head off to law school. He chuckled and said "Nah, you're gonna love MI and fit in with those geeks. You'll be a lifer".
That theme seemed to wiggle its way into our discussions for years, even in those postcards. On the day of my re-up, he was the re-enlistment NCO for the company. When he walked up to give me the handshake and traditional shot in the arm for being a jackass and signing those papers the subject came up for debate for the final time. "Tell you what, Lifer, I have a bet for you. Whichever of us gets out last will buy the one who gets out first a scotch after he retires".
"Bet," I responded, "I'll meet you here in Seattle to collect".
"And don't try to go all Jew-boy on me and buy cheap, blended swill either".
Our letters and postcards always contained the post-script "who's buying that scotch?"
On November 15th 2006, the fucker beat me out of the service. He and his crew were killed by an IED in Baqubah, Iraq. It wasn't until May 2007 that I learned of his death through reading the Doonesbury tribute to the OIF KIA. I didn't believe it. I looked everywhere to see if it was some other SFC Schuyler Haynes. When I saw the picture on his obituary and tribute, there was no more doubt.
http://militarytimes.com/valor/army-sgt-1st-class-schuyler-b-haynes/2384318/
I will spend my last day in uniform on 10 June 2011. I will officially retire on 1 August 2011 after 24 years doing the job we both loved for the country we both loved more.
I owe him that scotch. I'd rather he be here to collect it.
Keep Up the Fire, Fucker.
We discussed the deep philosophical topics such as Marvel versus DC comics and their universes. In the end, we both agreed that Batman and Wolverine kicked butt and should team up.
When he found I had an interest in Rugby, he let me know he had just finished a tour on the Fort Lewis team that had won the all-Army competition. So, he taught me how to play.
He always picked his feet up as he walked, like he was marching in as part of the Old Guard at Arlington.
In Panama, he was there to commiserate the seemingly childish pranks the other guys played on each other to blow off steam. Then he calmed me down after I had to rescue the same refugee from killing himself for the third time in a week.
When Matt and I "gothed-up" to hit the underground sub-culture clubs in Seattle, he made the small-minded Soldiers think twice about their pre-judgments. Then again, Matt is huge guy. We almost got Schuyler to go with us once. Instead, we all ended up at Cheers West drinking Guinness, except for Matt, who didn't drink. That worked out as Matt served as the perfect DD. Matt and I did get Schuyler to go with us to another hidden haunt called "The Owl and Thistle". Schuyler loved the place with it's Scottish theme decked out in Rugby memorabilia. It became a Saturday afternoon routine.
When Schuyler moved to Alaska, I was the only one in the unit he kept in contact with. We sent postcards back and forth for years until in 1998 I ended up back in Germany. We lost contact somehow. I think the digital age had caught up with us and we never got the chance to exchange email addresses.
After our tour to Panama, I had come to a decision to re-enlist in the Army for another hitch. I decided to give MI a try. I made a stink that I would do those 3 years and be done, head off to law school. He chuckled and said "Nah, you're gonna love MI and fit in with those geeks. You'll be a lifer".
That theme seemed to wiggle its way into our discussions for years, even in those postcards. On the day of my re-up, he was the re-enlistment NCO for the company. When he walked up to give me the handshake and traditional shot in the arm for being a jackass and signing those papers the subject came up for debate for the final time. "Tell you what, Lifer, I have a bet for you. Whichever of us gets out last will buy the one who gets out first a scotch after he retires".
"Bet," I responded, "I'll meet you here in Seattle to collect".
"And don't try to go all Jew-boy on me and buy cheap, blended swill either".
Our letters and postcards always contained the post-script "who's buying that scotch?"
On November 15th 2006, the fucker beat me out of the service. He and his crew were killed by an IED in Baqubah, Iraq. It wasn't until May 2007 that I learned of his death through reading the Doonesbury tribute to the OIF KIA. I didn't believe it. I looked everywhere to see if it was some other SFC Schuyler Haynes. When I saw the picture on his obituary and tribute, there was no more doubt.
http://militarytimes.com/valor/army-sgt-1st-class-schuyler-b-haynes/2384318/
I will spend my last day in uniform on 10 June 2011. I will officially retire on 1 August 2011 after 24 years doing the job we both loved for the country we both loved more.
I owe him that scotch. I'd rather he be here to collect it.
Keep Up the Fire, Fucker.
Names of the Fallen, and WHY they should be honored
I am NOT a fan of his politics, but...
Gary Trudeau, author and creator of Doonesbury, has, several times, done a Sunday strip for Memorial Day listing those who did not make it home from Iraq.
Agree with his generally left-wing slant or not, agree with his purpose in posting these names as the "cost too high" or not; the comic in and of itself is a tribute to those who paid the ultimate price for our continuing freedom from tyranny, terrorism, and the oppression of a socialist regime.
I will get on my own political soapbox here for just a moment and give some facts for those who wonder "what is wrong with social programs". Socialism is evil. It allows for tyrannic dictators to gain power of the people by enslaving them to a dependency upon government directed programs. It shackles creativity and progress, redistributing the wealth of those industrious producers who don't bend their knees to that elitist few. It steals the earned rewards from those who create and gives it to the undeserving, lazy leeches who believe themselves entitled, just for breathing, to what somebody else has earned through achievement. Then those shackled entitlement junkies become enslaved to those programs, afraid to loose their free lunch by actually doing something to better themselves.
These are facts, not conjecture. The proof is in history in regimes like Adolph Hitler's Socialist regime, Stalin's Socialist regime, and the Ba'ath Party (a socialist party) of Saddam Hussein in Iraq. Their policy is to convince or force you to bend your knee and take the handouts, giving all your efforts to the causes they dictate and not the ones chosen by your own morality. They take away your power to choose. They oppress, destroy, of kill any who express a vision of greater good through personal gain (capitalism). You not longer get to build for your own merits, just labor for theirs. Industry belongs to the state and all incentive to innovate is crushed. There will be no more great inventions like "smartphones" or iPads or the internet or Hybrid cars or good running shoes.
Would you build a house for your family if you knew the government was going to tell you to let eight strangers move in with you? Would you buy a car if you were told that, in doing so, you had to drive 4 drug addicts to their dealers' houses every day on your way to work? Probably not. So, why support the social programs that are the stepping stones to that? Say no to "welfare". Say "no" to nationalizing and socializing the health care industry. Say "yes" to human innovation and invention. That is what creates jobs and the spirit to achieve, succeed, provide, and LIVE.
Ok, now that I put you through my tirade, I will make my true point. Every name here died fighting against a socialist regime and tyrannic extremist terrorism to make the world a better place for our country to thrive with a reduced risk threat of these things oppressing and killing the people of our great nation. That is what these great patriots fought and died for -- for you to LIVE, thrive, produce, think, and enjoy the blessings of liberty. You owe each of them your eternal gratitude; unless, of course, you are one of those elitist left-wingers seeking to oppress the little people and force others to "give back" to the undeserving in order to enslave them.
Here are the Sunday Comics (it may be easier to go to the links at the bottom and zoom the view to read):
By the way, it was through this comic, the second set, last panel, 5th name; that I found out about the death of my friend Schuyler. What a shitty way to find out, huh?
http://www.gocomics.com/doonesbury/2004/05/30
http://cdn.svcs.c2.uclick.com/c2/fe5ac2505e0c012ee3bf00163e41dd5b
http://cdn.svcs.c2.uclick.com/c2/3bbd89305e0e012ee3bf00163e41dd5b
Gary Trudeau, author and creator of Doonesbury, has, several times, done a Sunday strip for Memorial Day listing those who did not make it home from Iraq.
Agree with his generally left-wing slant or not, agree with his purpose in posting these names as the "cost too high" or not; the comic in and of itself is a tribute to those who paid the ultimate price for our continuing freedom from tyranny, terrorism, and the oppression of a socialist regime.
I will get on my own political soapbox here for just a moment and give some facts for those who wonder "what is wrong with social programs". Socialism is evil. It allows for tyrannic dictators to gain power of the people by enslaving them to a dependency upon government directed programs. It shackles creativity and progress, redistributing the wealth of those industrious producers who don't bend their knees to that elitist few. It steals the earned rewards from those who create and gives it to the undeserving, lazy leeches who believe themselves entitled, just for breathing, to what somebody else has earned through achievement. Then those shackled entitlement junkies become enslaved to those programs, afraid to loose their free lunch by actually doing something to better themselves.
These are facts, not conjecture. The proof is in history in regimes like Adolph Hitler's Socialist regime, Stalin's Socialist regime, and the Ba'ath Party (a socialist party) of Saddam Hussein in Iraq. Their policy is to convince or force you to bend your knee and take the handouts, giving all your efforts to the causes they dictate and not the ones chosen by your own morality. They take away your power to choose. They oppress, destroy, of kill any who express a vision of greater good through personal gain (capitalism). You not longer get to build for your own merits, just labor for theirs. Industry belongs to the state and all incentive to innovate is crushed. There will be no more great inventions like "smartphones" or iPads or the internet or Hybrid cars or good running shoes.
Would you build a house for your family if you knew the government was going to tell you to let eight strangers move in with you? Would you buy a car if you were told that, in doing so, you had to drive 4 drug addicts to their dealers' houses every day on your way to work? Probably not. So, why support the social programs that are the stepping stones to that? Say no to "welfare". Say "no" to nationalizing and socializing the health care industry. Say "yes" to human innovation and invention. That is what creates jobs and the spirit to achieve, succeed, provide, and LIVE.
Ok, now that I put you through my tirade, I will make my true point. Every name here died fighting against a socialist regime and tyrannic extremist terrorism to make the world a better place for our country to thrive with a reduced risk threat of these things oppressing and killing the people of our great nation. That is what these great patriots fought and died for -- for you to LIVE, thrive, produce, think, and enjoy the blessings of liberty. You owe each of them your eternal gratitude; unless, of course, you are one of those elitist left-wingers seeking to oppress the little people and force others to "give back" to the undeserving in order to enslave them.
Here are the Sunday Comics (it may be easier to go to the links at the bottom and zoom the view to read):
By the way, it was through this comic, the second set, last panel, 5th name; that I found out about the death of my friend Schuyler. What a shitty way to find out, huh?
http://www.gocomics.com/doonesbury/2004/05/30
http://cdn.svcs.c2.uclick.com/c2/fe5ac2505e0c012ee3bf00163e41dd5b
http://cdn.svcs.c2.uclick.com/c2/3bbd89305e0e012ee3bf00163e41dd5b
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Memories of Love and Faith
Once upon a time, Memorial Day weekend was, for me like many of you, a day off from work. The weekend was an excuse to see friends and hold a BBQ on Sunday that lasted to the wee hours of Monday. It was time to travel to see family. It was a break.
Since even my grade-school days, I have known the meaning behind the day. We would head to my grandparents' summer cottage and have a family gathering most years. It involved lots of food, some fishing, and the adults enjoying a few beers and some loud conversation. It usually also involved a lot of foul language directed at the Cubs game on the radio. So, despite knowledge of its meaning, it really didn't sink into my heart or mind.
Once in uniform, I caught a little bit more of the meaning. I participated in several Memorial events from helping clean and decorate graves to some form of religious service. But, I often attempted to avoid being selected for these details preferring, instead, to stay up late and sleep later.
In early February 2003, things changed. I deployed to Kuwait and then fought the ground war against Saddam Hussayn's Iraqi army. It was not my first deployment. It was not even the first deployment where I had to shoot or was shot at. But it turned out to be the one deployment that changed my perspective dramatically.
Just as we were preparing to fire our first deep-strike salvo of missiles at key targets in Iraq in order to set conditions for 3rd ID to cross the border, I heard an explosion on the horizon. It would be a few hours before I got the news. One of my best friends was killed by a grenade. The grenade was thrown into his tent while he slept. The attacker was a traitor in a US Army uniform. Chris Seifert lay dead, never to kiss his wife again. Chris Seifert lay dead, never to hold his newborn son. The School Age Services building on Fort Huachuca is dedicated to his memory.
Chris was not the last friend I was to lose over the years of conflict. We lost a good NCO from the Brigade I was attached to. He died saving the rest of his crew. An enemy anti-armor rocket struck an ammunition carrier vehicle. Red died attempting to put out the fire and evacuate the crew.
A young HUMINT collector, Yari Mokri, was blown to vapor by an IED in early 2007. His warm laugh and personality made quite and impression upon me and his platoon. One of my other close friends was in the same patrol. She never recovered, emotionally, from the loss. I don't think any of us have.
That same year, a young Captain I worked with had changed his duties from Battalion Targeting Officer to take over his BN's scout platoon. There were things going on that had some members of the platoon and other officers from that unit facing some potential charges. I cannot discuss what I know on the subject. I can say that I worked out with Derek and other members of that platoon. We practiced martial arts together and lifted weights together. On a mission I had recommended, their helicopter crashed. There are conflicting reports. the official report currently reads "due to unforeseen mechanical failure". Half of the remaining platoon died in that crash, including Derek. I got the news early in the morning. My chief and I trashed our office when we heard the news. We had just finished cleaning the mess 2 hours later when the rest of our team arrived. They thought we were joking when we gave the news.
That same year, one of my oldest friends was blown up by an IED while on patrol near Baqubah, Iraq. Schuyler Haynes and I had been Manchus together and been deployed together several times when we were both still Infantry. I didn't find out until some time in mid 2008, just as I started preparing for my 4th tour to Iraq.
In 2009, I was at the FOB maintenance yard. It was a Friday, our day to get stuff fixed on the team's vehicles. Short and I were on top of the MRAP doing our inspection when a huge explosion rocked the earth. I hit the ground while Short just grabbed the roof of our vehicle. We then watched the fireball and secondary explosions. A quarter-mile down Marez Utility Road, a large Truck-borne IED exploded just outside of the HQ of the Iraqi Federal Police Brigade we advised. (We advised one of the BNs under it). To top it off, that BDE's entire monthly supply of vehicle fuel (gas and diesel) had just been delivered the night before. The HQ went up in flames. An MRAP carrying 5 infantry Soldiers (US Army) from one of our partner units was vaporized, except for the V-shaped hull. We went out to help recover the bits and pieces of bodies, both US Army and Iraqi. I did not know the US Soldiers. I did know several of the Iraqis that were killed, though. They were good men, fighting for their country, making money to support their wives and kids.
There are countless more names and stories I could post. I know they are countless because I used to count them. I used to count every single name of every single soldier I knew, even if just in passing. After 173, I stopped. I couldn't do it anymore. the effort to copy and paste one more name onto my list and tick that counter one number more became too difficult. I can leg-press over 1000lbs. But I couldn't manage the physical strength to move a mouse and click some computer keys. So, these are among the most vivid of my memories, these great men that WE lost.
So now I know what that far-off daze my father and grandfather both seemed to get during the pauses in merriment at those family gatherings. Both were veterans of wars to defend this country. My Grandfather was US Army Intelligence in WWII. My father served in Vietnam. I now see what they saw when they got that look: that look as though they were seeing another time and another place. I know now that they were hugging their brothers from those wars. I now know that they were doing their duty in not letting the memories of those men fade from existence. They were keeping their promises to never forget.
I never will.
That is the prologue or introduction to my latest poem. If you have made it this far in my essay, I invite and ask you to make it just a few lines more. I ask you to do so not for me, but for the meaning of Memorial Day. I ask you to do it so these great men and women look down from heaven and see they are still loved and cherished in the hearts of the citizens of this great nation.
Since even my grade-school days, I have known the meaning behind the day. We would head to my grandparents' summer cottage and have a family gathering most years. It involved lots of food, some fishing, and the adults enjoying a few beers and some loud conversation. It usually also involved a lot of foul language directed at the Cubs game on the radio. So, despite knowledge of its meaning, it really didn't sink into my heart or mind.
Once in uniform, I caught a little bit more of the meaning. I participated in several Memorial events from helping clean and decorate graves to some form of religious service. But, I often attempted to avoid being selected for these details preferring, instead, to stay up late and sleep later.
In early February 2003, things changed. I deployed to Kuwait and then fought the ground war against Saddam Hussayn's Iraqi army. It was not my first deployment. It was not even the first deployment where I had to shoot or was shot at. But it turned out to be the one deployment that changed my perspective dramatically.
Just as we were preparing to fire our first deep-strike salvo of missiles at key targets in Iraq in order to set conditions for 3rd ID to cross the border, I heard an explosion on the horizon. It would be a few hours before I got the news. One of my best friends was killed by a grenade. The grenade was thrown into his tent while he slept. The attacker was a traitor in a US Army uniform. Chris Seifert lay dead, never to kiss his wife again. Chris Seifert lay dead, never to hold his newborn son. The School Age Services building on Fort Huachuca is dedicated to his memory.
Chris was not the last friend I was to lose over the years of conflict. We lost a good NCO from the Brigade I was attached to. He died saving the rest of his crew. An enemy anti-armor rocket struck an ammunition carrier vehicle. Red died attempting to put out the fire and evacuate the crew.
A young HUMINT collector, Yari Mokri, was blown to vapor by an IED in early 2007. His warm laugh and personality made quite and impression upon me and his platoon. One of my other close friends was in the same patrol. She never recovered, emotionally, from the loss. I don't think any of us have.
That same year, a young Captain I worked with had changed his duties from Battalion Targeting Officer to take over his BN's scout platoon. There were things going on that had some members of the platoon and other officers from that unit facing some potential charges. I cannot discuss what I know on the subject. I can say that I worked out with Derek and other members of that platoon. We practiced martial arts together and lifted weights together. On a mission I had recommended, their helicopter crashed. There are conflicting reports. the official report currently reads "due to unforeseen mechanical failure". Half of the remaining platoon died in that crash, including Derek. I got the news early in the morning. My chief and I trashed our office when we heard the news. We had just finished cleaning the mess 2 hours later when the rest of our team arrived. They thought we were joking when we gave the news.
That same year, one of my oldest friends was blown up by an IED while on patrol near Baqubah, Iraq. Schuyler Haynes and I had been Manchus together and been deployed together several times when we were both still Infantry. I didn't find out until some time in mid 2008, just as I started preparing for my 4th tour to Iraq.
In 2009, I was at the FOB maintenance yard. It was a Friday, our day to get stuff fixed on the team's vehicles. Short and I were on top of the MRAP doing our inspection when a huge explosion rocked the earth. I hit the ground while Short just grabbed the roof of our vehicle. We then watched the fireball and secondary explosions. A quarter-mile down Marez Utility Road, a large Truck-borne IED exploded just outside of the HQ of the Iraqi Federal Police Brigade we advised. (We advised one of the BNs under it). To top it off, that BDE's entire monthly supply of vehicle fuel (gas and diesel) had just been delivered the night before. The HQ went up in flames. An MRAP carrying 5 infantry Soldiers (US Army) from one of our partner units was vaporized, except for the V-shaped hull. We went out to help recover the bits and pieces of bodies, both US Army and Iraqi. I did not know the US Soldiers. I did know several of the Iraqis that were killed, though. They were good men, fighting for their country, making money to support their wives and kids.
There are countless more names and stories I could post. I know they are countless because I used to count them. I used to count every single name of every single soldier I knew, even if just in passing. After 173, I stopped. I couldn't do it anymore. the effort to copy and paste one more name onto my list and tick that counter one number more became too difficult. I can leg-press over 1000lbs. But I couldn't manage the physical strength to move a mouse and click some computer keys. So, these are among the most vivid of my memories, these great men that WE lost.
So now I know what that far-off daze my father and grandfather both seemed to get during the pauses in merriment at those family gatherings. Both were veterans of wars to defend this country. My Grandfather was US Army Intelligence in WWII. My father served in Vietnam. I now see what they saw when they got that look: that look as though they were seeing another time and another place. I know now that they were hugging their brothers from those wars. I now know that they were doing their duty in not letting the memories of those men fade from existence. They were keeping their promises to never forget.
I never will.
That is the prologue or introduction to my latest poem. If you have made it this far in my essay, I invite and ask you to make it just a few lines more. I ask you to do so not for me, but for the meaning of Memorial Day. I ask you to do it so these great men and women look down from heaven and see they are still loved and cherished in the hearts of the citizens of this great nation.
In Memoriam of love and faith
To the brave and bold
My eternal thanks
I will never forget
To the brave and bold
My eternal thanks
I will never forget
To the Army of the Potomac
Who shivered at Valley Forge
And the Minute Men
For the Freedom you gave me
I thank you
Who shivered at Valley Forge
And the Minute Men
For the Freedom you gave me
I thank you
To those who stood strong
When in 1812 they came to reclaim
What was gained in 1776
Your valor retained
For that I thank you
When in 1812 they came to reclaim
What was gained in 1776
Your valor retained
For that I thank you
Those who charged in answer
The massacre at the Alamo
And those battles that followed
For proving our nation’s mettle
I thank you
The massacre at the Alamo
And those battles that followed
For proving our nation’s mettle
I thank you
When the powder keg blew
And the Great War ensued
You who manned the trenches
Under our banner of Liberty
Standing forever stalwart
I thank you
And the Great War ensued
You who manned the trenches
Under our banner of Liberty
Standing forever stalwart
I thank you
An island territory attacked
And a genocidal tyrant ran rampant
Those who answered the call
To restore peace and freedom
For us and the world
A generation of great heroes
I thank you
And a genocidal tyrant ran rampant
Those who answered the call
To restore peace and freedom
For us and the world
A generation of great heroes
I thank you
An Asian Domino teetered and poised
To fall and bring hateful oppression
Into our world
For fortitude and bravery at Chosin
And defending Seoul with all your might
I thank you
To fall and bring hateful oppression
Into our world
For fortitude and bravery at Chosin
And defending Seoul with all your might
I thank you
The Marines who landed near Danang
And Soldiers who patrolled
Rice Patties, Jungle and mountains
Trying to hold back Ho Chi Minh
My father and his brothers-in-arms
I salute you
And Soldiers who patrolled
Rice Patties, Jungle and mountains
Trying to hold back Ho Chi Minh
My father and his brothers-in-arms
I salute you
For Grenada, Panama, Somalia
Desert Storm and freeing Kuwait
Bringing Peace to Serbia, Bosnia and Croatia
Braving the flooding rains in Albania
To end genocide in Kosovo
I thank you
Desert Storm and freeing Kuwait
Bringing Peace to Serbia, Bosnia and Croatia
Braving the flooding rains in Albania
To end genocide in Kosovo
I thank you
For those who watched the towers fall
And a jet crash into the Pentagon
Then answered the call
For those who fought by my side
dodging mortars and rockets
In Baghdad and Balad alike
Who charged into the mountains near Kandahar
To those who sucked sand and fumes
In Restrepo, Kirkuk, Wasit, Peshwar
Who braved bombs in Mosul and Tikrit
And didn’t make it back
I miss you.
And a jet crash into the Pentagon
Then answered the call
For those who fought by my side
dodging mortars and rockets
In Baghdad and Balad alike
Who charged into the mountains near Kandahar
To those who sucked sand and fumes
In Restrepo, Kirkuk, Wasit, Peshwar
Who braved bombs in Mosul and Tikrit
And didn’t make it back
I miss you.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
I Am Not Posting My Rant, Yet
Events and issues brought to a less local light over the past week are pushing my buttons to write a long rant about illegal immigration. But I will refrain for now.
Items of note, however, that have my blood boiling include:
1. Large wildfire in Horseshoe Canyon caused over $10 Million in private and public property damages. It was most likely caused by two-legged coyotes.
2. La Raza has so integrated into the Arizona Public School System that in Tucson, 3rd graders get an "ethics class" that preaches hatred of "Gringos". This "textbook" contains obscenities that, if uttered when I was that age, would have led to munching on a bar of Ivory soap as an after-school snack.
3. Talking with many of my neighbors who work for DHS or USBP, detentions of illegal aliens are down because the Executive branch of our Federal Government has issued a policy of "TBS" (Turn Back South). So, they cannot detain illegals unless they are flat-out caught with drugs or unregistered weapons. This has enabled smugglers instead of deterring them.
4. Two more USBP agents stationed in Arizona (and legal residents of Arizona) have been shot and killed in the line of duty. These guys face ROE stricter than the overly-restrictive ROE I faced in Iraq and what is currently in place in Afghanistan. There has been a public outcry that the ROEs in those theaters of conflict are too restrictive and are putting out Soldiers at unnecessary risk. Yet, our BP agents are facing similar threats under a much more constrictive ROE. And they are dying. Five guys I have been acquainted with have died in the line of duty in the past 6 months. This is HERE in ARIZONA!
5. President Obama goes to El Paso, TX and jokes that we, the citizens of Arizona, won't be happy with border security until we have a moat. His joke was that if he built a moat, we'd want alligators in it. No, Mr. President, no alligators. Alligators would not do well in the desert. I want a MINEFIELD! As much as I despised the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact, they did have that practice down. But I don't think we need to keep our people in as much as illegal immigrants OUT!
So, just five little things. Each of those I could so a multi-paged rant about. I'll spare you. However, I will encourage you to read the editorial our beloved Cochise County Arizona Sheriff posted in the New York Times:
Sheriff Dever's NYT Editorial
Items of note, however, that have my blood boiling include:
1. Large wildfire in Horseshoe Canyon caused over $10 Million in private and public property damages. It was most likely caused by two-legged coyotes.
2. La Raza has so integrated into the Arizona Public School System that in Tucson, 3rd graders get an "ethics class" that preaches hatred of "Gringos". This "textbook" contains obscenities that, if uttered when I was that age, would have led to munching on a bar of Ivory soap as an after-school snack.
3. Talking with many of my neighbors who work for DHS or USBP, detentions of illegal aliens are down because the Executive branch of our Federal Government has issued a policy of "TBS" (Turn Back South). So, they cannot detain illegals unless they are flat-out caught with drugs or unregistered weapons. This has enabled smugglers instead of deterring them.
4. Two more USBP agents stationed in Arizona (and legal residents of Arizona) have been shot and killed in the line of duty. These guys face ROE stricter than the overly-restrictive ROE I faced in Iraq and what is currently in place in Afghanistan. There has been a public outcry that the ROEs in those theaters of conflict are too restrictive and are putting out Soldiers at unnecessary risk. Yet, our BP agents are facing similar threats under a much more constrictive ROE. And they are dying. Five guys I have been acquainted with have died in the line of duty in the past 6 months. This is HERE in ARIZONA!
5. President Obama goes to El Paso, TX and jokes that we, the citizens of Arizona, won't be happy with border security until we have a moat. His joke was that if he built a moat, we'd want alligators in it. No, Mr. President, no alligators. Alligators would not do well in the desert. I want a MINEFIELD! As much as I despised the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact, they did have that practice down. But I don't think we need to keep our people in as much as illegal immigrants OUT!
So, just five little things. Each of those I could so a multi-paged rant about. I'll spare you. However, I will encourage you to read the editorial our beloved Cochise County Arizona Sheriff posted in the New York Times:
Sheriff Dever's NYT Editorial
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Loyalty and Fidelity
I once heard a great man speak on his philosophies of life and leadership. It was an amazing time with lessons that remain burned into my very being. I have had the privileged to witness many great men and many vaulted men (and women) speak. Some have had great things to say peppered throughout their verbiage. Others looked good and had pleasant sounding voices that entranced mindless sheople into nodding assent without critically weighing the word-vomit.
One phrase, however, this particular great man spoke set my mind to thinking. I liked what he said and how he said it. I feel that my own philosophy enabled me to truly hear his words and their meaning. I comprehended. I more than comprehended. I agreed with him long before I heard his words. Given the greatness of his words, I'm using them. This man said "Do not do me the dishonor of agreeing with me. Do not do me the disloyalty of telling me what you think I want to hear. If you are loyal, you will tell me the truth of what you think." Who was this great philosopher? He is none other than General (retired) Colin Powell.
I love that man. He exudes charisma and true leadership. He lives a life that pales the words he speaks. His path is the one not of perfection, but of excellence.
I challenge you to go back and read his words once again. Think about them. When you are ready, if it pleases you, continue taking in my diatribe.
Loyalty is NOT blind faith. Loyalty is NOT blind obedience. If I wanted blind obedience, I'd have a dog. Actually, if such a dog existed, I'd probably put him down for being too dumb to exist. No. that is not cruel. I am pretty sure that most people can agree that a good dog, one with whom you have bonded and trained, is a wonderful companion. Some may even say that you would be hard-pressed to find better companionship. However, even a well-trained, obedient dog will cock his head and look at you like you are a moron if you try to tell it to do something it knows to be a poor decision. That is a good dog.
So, now I ask you, if you are in charge or placed in a position of responsibility, management, or leadership, do you really want those "under" you to be dumber than a dog? Probably not. Dogs are loyal. They are faithful. But they are no blindly obedient. They do not have blind faith. So why surround yourself with idiot people who are?
Leaders cannot lead unless they have the loyalty of the led. That is how it works. The better leaders have followers who criticize the decisions a leader makes. They followers are willing to grant their insight, experience, and thoughts to their chosen leader. They support the leader's ability to make a decision. They do not hamstring the leader by nodding assent and keeping things from the leaders. To do so sets a leader up to become a tyrant. It also leads the way for the led to become sub-human. True loyalty means bearing true faith in the leader to make decisions and to accept the consequences of those decisions, good or poor. True loyalty means supporting those decisions, once made, and assessing how well they worked.
On the other side, leaders need to have fidelity in those they lead. They have to be open to their input. They have to judiciously weigh that input. They owe it to the led to make the most informed and active decision possible, and to execute. If the leaders expect blind obedience and blind faith (which is NOT true faith), then they are tyrants. They will find themselves oppressing the governed into indentured servitude at the end of a gun. They will no longer be followers, but slaves.
Loyalty means you support the leaders' decision. You gave them the responsibility to make those decisions and the authority to execute them. So, do so. But question the decisions in the process. That is true loyalty.
Fidelity means trusting those in your charge to support you with honest data and insight. It means having faith that the led want to accomplish the intended goals. It means faith that they will honestly do so by presenting you with what you need to hear; not what you want to hear.
So, what sort of leader are you? Do want the companionship of a loyal dog (or better, a free-thinking and honest person); or do you prefer the enslaved obedience of a puppet? Do you have fidelity or are you a tyrant? (Tyrants get overthrown, eventually)
What sort of follower are you? Are you a slave? Are you a mindless sub-human drone? Are you a puppet? Or are you a free-thinking human?
Decide.
One phrase, however, this particular great man spoke set my mind to thinking. I liked what he said and how he said it. I feel that my own philosophy enabled me to truly hear his words and their meaning. I comprehended. I more than comprehended. I agreed with him long before I heard his words. Given the greatness of his words, I'm using them. This man said "Do not do me the dishonor of agreeing with me. Do not do me the disloyalty of telling me what you think I want to hear. If you are loyal, you will tell me the truth of what you think." Who was this great philosopher? He is none other than General (retired) Colin Powell.
I love that man. He exudes charisma and true leadership. He lives a life that pales the words he speaks. His path is the one not of perfection, but of excellence.
I challenge you to go back and read his words once again. Think about them. When you are ready, if it pleases you, continue taking in my diatribe.
Loyalty is NOT blind faith. Loyalty is NOT blind obedience. If I wanted blind obedience, I'd have a dog. Actually, if such a dog existed, I'd probably put him down for being too dumb to exist. No. that is not cruel. I am pretty sure that most people can agree that a good dog, one with whom you have bonded and trained, is a wonderful companion. Some may even say that you would be hard-pressed to find better companionship. However, even a well-trained, obedient dog will cock his head and look at you like you are a moron if you try to tell it to do something it knows to be a poor decision. That is a good dog.
So, now I ask you, if you are in charge or placed in a position of responsibility, management, or leadership, do you really want those "under" you to be dumber than a dog? Probably not. Dogs are loyal. They are faithful. But they are no blindly obedient. They do not have blind faith. So why surround yourself with idiot people who are?
Leaders cannot lead unless they have the loyalty of the led. That is how it works. The better leaders have followers who criticize the decisions a leader makes. They followers are willing to grant their insight, experience, and thoughts to their chosen leader. They support the leader's ability to make a decision. They do not hamstring the leader by nodding assent and keeping things from the leaders. To do so sets a leader up to become a tyrant. It also leads the way for the led to become sub-human. True loyalty means bearing true faith in the leader to make decisions and to accept the consequences of those decisions, good or poor. True loyalty means supporting those decisions, once made, and assessing how well they worked.
On the other side, leaders need to have fidelity in those they lead. They have to be open to their input. They have to judiciously weigh that input. They owe it to the led to make the most informed and active decision possible, and to execute. If the leaders expect blind obedience and blind faith (which is NOT true faith), then they are tyrants. They will find themselves oppressing the governed into indentured servitude at the end of a gun. They will no longer be followers, but slaves.
Loyalty means you support the leaders' decision. You gave them the responsibility to make those decisions and the authority to execute them. So, do so. But question the decisions in the process. That is true loyalty.
Fidelity means trusting those in your charge to support you with honest data and insight. It means having faith that the led want to accomplish the intended goals. It means faith that they will honestly do so by presenting you with what you need to hear; not what you want to hear.
So, what sort of leader are you? Do want the companionship of a loyal dog (or better, a free-thinking and honest person); or do you prefer the enslaved obedience of a puppet? Do you have fidelity or are you a tyrant? (Tyrants get overthrown, eventually)
What sort of follower are you? Are you a slave? Are you a mindless sub-human drone? Are you a puppet? Or are you a free-thinking human?
Decide.
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