Barack Obama


Yesterday, I received a letter from Barack Obama.  I suspect most of you have by now.  Somehow, I have gotten on both the Republican and Democratic mailing lists.  It is humorous reading what each is saying about the other.  Both say the other is destroying our country.  You really need to see both sides to keep it in perspective.

I thought he would be telling me that he is running for President and requesting money.  That’s what fund raising is all about.  Well, he was requesting money, but not for himself.  He was asking me to send money to the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee.  He said the Demos surprised the Republicans in 2006, but it wouldn’t be that easy in 2008.  Those rascal Republicans “won’t be caught off guard again.”

My thought is, if the Demos want to keep control of the Senate, they better start being nice to Joe Lieberman.

Well, I wasn’t interested in contributing my money to anybody.  So, you ask, “Why did you read the literature, if you had already made up your mind that you weren’t going to contribute?”  I read it because I was hoping that somewhere buried in the text was information on how I could meet the Obama Girl.  I could care less if Obama and Hillary want to fight over whether we should sit down with foreign tyrants.  I just want to meet the Obama Girl!  Let’s keep politics simple.

Soldiers with Prior Criminal Records


It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that the Army is having a difficult time meeting their recruitment quotas.  That happens when there is an enemy out there trying to do us harm.  In order to meet the need for new recruits, the Army is granting more waivers to young men and women who have criminal records.  In 2003 and 2004, only four to five percent had waivers.  Now the number has climbed to over 11%.

This has some of the media hollering that the sky is falling.  They have trotted out experts who have said that people with criminal records are more likely to get in trouble in the Army, than people with no criminal records.  Duh!  How do I get a job as an expert?  I could make profound statements like that.

Ordinarily, the “do-gooder” media would be supporting the proposition of giving a person a second chance.  But that is not the case if the opposite view will put the military in a bad light.  Well folks, don’t worry about the military.  Our military services are in the best position to take a troubled youth and square him or her away.  We have a lot of practice.  Since before we were born, judges in large and small communities have been telling young people in trouble, “either join the Army or go to jail.”  The Army unknowingly accepts these youths and in many cases, the Army is the best thing that ever happened to them.  They just need a lot of supervision and discipline, which is not in short supply in the U. S. Army.

A friend I went to law school with had just such an experience and at the request of a local judge, spent three years in the Marine Corps.  He gave the Marine Corps credit for turning his life around.  After he got out, he finished undergraduate school and law school and became a well-respected lawyer and community leader in Springfield, Missouri.

Accepting as soldiers these individuals who committed crimes when they were young and immature is, for the Army, a piece of cake.  We were really challenged back in the 1960’s.  Secretary McNamara came up with the idea of Project 100,000.  These were recruits who were mentally challenged.  To enlist in the Army, you need a minimum score of 31 out of 100 on the Armed Forces Qualification Test.  Some of McNamara’s 100,000 had scores as low at ten.  Now these characters were a challenge.  Of course, the Vietnam War was in full tilt and these unfortunate individuals helped fill the ranks.  All of the Project 100,000 soldiers had special service numbers, so it was easy to identify them.

I was in Germany from 1966 to 1969.  For part of that period, I was a 4th Armored Division defense counsel.  I got to know some of Secretary McNamara’s boys.  One, whose name was Jake, got in trouble about every other week.  He should have kept me on a retainer.  I kept getting him out of trouble, but I wasn’t sure that was to his benefit.  A separation from the Army would have been better.  First, Jake got drunk and started a fight in a local gasthaus.  It was a tough place and there was plenty of blame to spread around.  Later, Jake beat up a German taxi driver.  Jake claimed the driver pulled a weapon on him (probably because Jake refused to pay for the ride).  I won’t elaborate on the many times he missed formations and was disrespectful to officers and NCO’s.

The last time I saw Jake was when he came by to thank me and tell me he was on orders to Vietnam.  His arm was in a sling.  I had to ask.  He said, “Oh that, it happened when I flipped the jeep.  I stopped right there.

I read that one of McNamara’s 100,000 (in reality, there were over 300,000) was awarded three Silver Stars for heroism in Vietnam.  He didn’t want the third one because it was the same color as the other two.  He said he would rather have the Army Commendation Medal, because it had a green ribbon.  The Army Commendation Medal, known as the “Green Weenie,” was no where near as much of an honor as the Silver Star.

So, Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public, don’t worry about the Army.  We will do just fine with those soldiers with prior criminal records.  In fact, the Army will send them back to their local towns and cities much better citizens than when they got them.

On to Talkeetna, Alaska


We just got back from a “cruise-tour” of Alaska.  They call it a cruise-tour because you spend five days on the ground in Alaska and then jump on a cruise ship to wander through the Inside Passage.  You can do the cruise first (start in Vancouver), but I have no idea how to handle the land portion after stuffing yourself for seven days on board a ship.

It’s a nice package, particularly if you have a problem with sea sickness.  It is impossible to get seasick in the Inside Passage.  You’ve got land all around you and it is like floating in a community lake.  After a week on ship, you’ll still have no idea what  the expression “see legs” means.  That’s fine with me.  I am not big on seeing my food more than once.  My first tattoo is going to say “terra firma.”

We traveled by train from Anchorage to Talkeetna.  If you saw the TV show, Northern Exposure, you have an idea of what to expect in Talkeetna.  We were a few days early for their major social function of the year, The Talkeetna Moose Dropping Festival.  No, they don’t drop a moose.  We are talking about moose droppings.  It is the major fund raiser in Talkeetna, sponsored by the VFW for the benefit of the Talkeetna Historical Society.

This is a raffle where you purchase a little ball of moose poop which has been shellacked and numbered.  In fact, there are two balls with the same number.  One has a pin in it, making it suitable for wearing at appropriate occasions (which is anytime in Talkeetna).  The second ball is held for the contest.  All of the second moose-dropping balls are placed in a net, hauled into the air and dropped over a bulls-eye.  The moose dropping that lands closest to the bulls-eye is the winner.  You are also the winner if your little ball of poop bounces or rolls farthest form the bulls-eye.  Sorry we missed it.

Prior to the moose dropping event, they have a parade, “right down Main Street.”  Then, they turn around and march right up Main Street.  The street is so short that if you get in the right spot, you will never lose sight of the parade.  A parade in Alaska reminds me of the parades we used to have when I was a kid.  There were no expensive floats or glitter, just high school bands and fire trucks and friends waiving to friends.  It caused good, warm feelings that stayed with you throughout the year.

Ten years ago, we were in Ketchikan, Alaska on the 4th of July.  What a great parade – right out of the 1950’s.  All the high school graduates who were celebrating class reunions were piled into the back of flat bed trucks.  There was the Class of 1992; the Class of 1987; the Class of 1982, and so on.  Ketchikan can only be reached by sea or air, but everyone returns for the 4th of July celebration.  It is probably the only time I will see a fully loaded logging truck in a 4th of July parade.

After spending a day in the Denali National Park, we returned to Talkeetna to spend a night at the Talkeetna Alaskan Lodge.  It is quite modern and has a spectacular view of Mt. McKinley.  The only problem is that Mt. McKinley is bashful.  It doesn’t show itself very often.  In fact, they have concluded that only 30% of those looking for Mt. McKinley get to see it.  You can purchase a 30% pin indicating you were part of the 30% that saw it.  You can wear the pin right next to your moose dropping pin.

Mt. McKinley is so elusive that you can request the Lodge call you if McKinley shows itself.  I did, and at 10:30 PM I received a call.  I hustled up to the Lodge and there it was in all its beauty.  However, even though it was 10:30 at night, the sun was shining in my eyes.  The sun was scheduled to set at 11:27 PM, so I went back to my room; then back to the Lodge at 11:15.  The sun was behind the mountain, making for some great photo shots.  The only problem was that this was my second night in Alaska and I was still functioning on Eastern Daylight Savings Time.  My body thought it was 3:30 in the morning.

The bottom line is the Lodge is great, the town is strange and I don’t think they will be able to lure me back for Winter Dog Mushing.

Another Catch-up Poem


(Please note that I will be away from my computer until the last week in July.  But, I will be thinking of silly and  provocative things to post when I get back).

In September, 1989, I was reassigned from the Industrial College of the Armed Forces, in Washington, to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.  The SJA at Fort Leavenworth retired with no notice and I was tentatively scheduled to go there in the summer of 1990.  So we moved it up nine months.  With six weeks notice, we sold our home, never to return to the DC area (Of course, DC is where we have been for the last 17 years.

This is the Christmas poem for 1989.  The poem for 1990 explains why we are back in DC.

Christmas Greetings

The postmark’s correct, the summer’s a haze,
The Army works in mysterious ways.
I requested Ft. Leavenworth for next summer’s rotation,
Four weeks later, had my orders – to our great elation.

With just six weeks notice, we moved to the west,
Sold our house, banked the bucks, that’s the part I like best.
It’s tough to leave friends, with those sad goodbyes,
But, It’s good to be back, with family ties.

Becky and Kerby had their second boy,
Brandon came in April, a bundle of joy.
Kerby completed command in October this year,
Next comes CAS Cube, which, of course, is right here.

Missy and Terry started their second year,
They’ve purchased a house, but not quite so near.
Hutchinson Kansas is farther away,
But they’re still in the state, so what the hey.
They both have new jobs, to pay their bills,
Missy’s teaching Headstart, to cure old ills.

Paul’s at Mizzou, wrapping up his degree,
It won’t come too soon for my wallet and me.
We saw Mizzou twice, K-State and K.U.
Not like the old days, strictly P.U.
We missed the crowd’s roar, the old rootem-tootem,
If the players were horses, I’d say we should shoot’em.

We visited New England before we went West,
Visiting old friends is the part we like best.
Newport mansions and the Vermont maple tree,
Boston baked beans and West Point history.

Moving’s no fun, it gets harder each time,
With no kids to help, many stairs to climb.
Great Army quarters with hard wood floors,
Strange shaped windows and too many doors.
Steam heated radiators that go clank, clank, clank,
But, old Army elegance, you can take to the bank.

We’re excited about Christmas, the holiday season,
Our children are coming, that’s the main reason.
Sweet Candy is ten, still spry and hearty,
We’ll put her upstairs for our Christmas party.

I’ve written too much, but you are the reason,
We want you to have a great holiday season!

Telephone Colonel


Making a military phone call in Germany in the late Sixties was maddening.  I was stationed in Goeppingen, which is 30 miles East of Stuttgart and about a hundred miles South of Nuernberg.  I was assigned to the 4th Armored Division and our troops had relocated around Nuernberg and Bamberg.  So every call to the field was a real adventure.

First, I would dial O to get a Goeppingen operator (all were military or German civilians working for the US military).  I would say, “Hello Goeppingen, give me Stuttgart.”  Then, if I were lucky enough to get a Stuttgart operator, I would say, “Stuttgart, give me Nuernberg.”  Each connection seemed to drain the energy out of the line.  If I actually got a Nuernberg operator, the voice would be distant and low.  I would be shouting, “Nuernberg, give me Bamberg (or Erlangen or Ansbach).  The funny thing about Ansbach is that it is only 50 miles up the road, but you had to run through 250 miles of telephone wire to call them.  I can remember telling my wife as I left for work,  I have to call Bamberg this morning.”  It was that big a deal.

Sometimes, everything would click like magic.  I would give the Bamberg operator the number and the next thing I would hear was a busy signal.  Then, I would try to compose myself and start over.  “Hello Goeppingen, give me Stuttgart.”  Whenever anyone in the office was making one of these calls, everyone knew it.  Shouting to be heard on the other end was business as usual.  Screaming when the call went dead was also quite common.

Our Deputy Staff Judge Advocate was Major Joe Donahue.  After I had been in the office for about six months, Joe was promoted to lieutenant colonel.  Both colonels and lieutenant colonels referred to themselves on the phone as colonels.  So, the former Major Donahue was now a telephone colonel.  Pretty heady stuff.

On the particular day in question, one of our legal clerks was talking to a battalion legal clerk in Bamberg.  When a battalion completed a special courts-martial, they had to assemble the record of trial and send it to us for review.  The trial had been completed for over two months and we were still waiting for the record of trial.  Our clerk was very loud, as required, and very annoyed.  Joe Donahue heard the commotion and asked our legal clerk what was wrong.  After he found out about the late record of trial, he took the phone.  He said, “This is Colonel Donahue, let me speak to your Adjutant.”  The battalion adjutant ran all the administrative duties such as processing record of trial.  When the lieutenant got on the phone, Colonel Donahue told him that he wanted the record of trial at Headquarters (Goeppingen) the next day and hung up.  The crowd that had gathered, including me, was really impressed at how Joe had got things done.

Of course, things didn’t get done and it is great when you can learn tough lessons without being the subject of the lesson.  The Adjutant went to his battalion commander to report that he needed to send a vehicle the next day to Headquarters to deliver a record of trial.  The battalion commander was mad and reported to his brigade commander, who was also upset that someone at Headquarters was jerking them around.  The brigade commander called the 4th Armored Division’s Chief of Staff (both full colonels) and asked, “Who the hell is Colonel Donahue?”

Joe had to go explain to the Chief of Staff what he had done.  I suspect Joe spent most of his time listening.  I learned that promotions are great, but you need to be cautious, because there is always someone out there senior to you.  Also, I had been chewed out on the phone any number of times by senior officers.  Sometimes, I deserved it, and sometimes, I didn’t.  But, I could usually tell when the officer on the other end was playing for the crowd in his office.  I resented that and made a decision. Whenever I had to call a subordinate on a difficult subject, I made sure that no one else was in my office.

The good news is that the little blip didn’t keep Joe from having a fine career, and I became a real student of human nature.

9/11 Christmas Poem


I wrote this poem a few months after the 9/11 terrorist’s attacks.  When some outsider attacks the United States, they bring us all together and we become a formidable force.

Also, I represented Firestone during the Ford Explorer tread separation ordeal.  In fact, Firestone was to meet with the Department of Transportation and the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration on September the Eleventh.  By the time we arrived at the DOT Building, the Pentagon had been attacked and no visitors were permitted in the building.  We just had to find a safe way home.  All the pundits said the Firestone name was dead.  They were wrong.

Holiday Greetings 2001

A time for reflection, a time for pause,
The world is now different, and we have a cause.
They don’t understand what they sowed with their hate,
What they stirred up in us makes America great.
The moral of this is under our hat,
“Be careful who you spit on, you may just get spat.”

But we’ll put that aside for this annual report,
It’s a time for the family and things of that sort.
The news is all good, the year was a riser,
All generations seem healthy, not wealthy, but wiser.

We made a decision to spruce up the place,
Rip out this, shut off that and add on some space.
Five months without peace, workers Carole had to dodge,
Doing dishes in the bath tub and cooking in the garage.
But, it’s finally done, and done with precision,
And, believe it or not, as we envisioned.

And travel, we traveled, and traveled some more,
With a Canyonland trip, you see rocks galore.
Reunions with RAJA and a High School class,
And we bopped around Disney till we ran out of gas.

We saw all our kids and our mamas too,
Not often enough, but the best we could do.
But the year’s not over, and we’re not through,
And we’ll crank it up again in 2002.

For Jack it’s been Firestone, every long day,
A struggle for survival, against birds of prey.
It’s the Congress, the Government, oh what a mess,
And each day you could count on the torch of the press.
But, Firestone hung in there and did the right thing,
They fought for their tires and accepted the sting.
Now the clouds are parting and the message inspiring,
Just one simple phrase, “Firestone is hiring.”

So, it’s time to shut down this trite little jingle,
But the thought behind it makes us tingle.
To greet and report to special friends,
To perhaps bring a smile as the verse wends.
To wish good fortune, a smile and good cheer,
Glorious Holidays and a Happy New Year!