Before I get into the post relating to "getting caught" for the pyromania maneuver I pulled between Phu Loi and Phuc Vinh, I wanted to back up a month and describe something that I consider to be the best combat mission I ever flew.
In late November of 1970, the Aero Rifle Platoon of the 11th ACR, Air Cav Troop, was preparing for an operation between Long Binh and Xuan Loc. I had already fought the Dong Nghai Regiment of the NVA there when I was with the 199th and was very familiar with the entire area.
As a coincidence, the Landing Zone was in the exact same spot where we conducted Nighthawk missions and blew up the 18 wheeler log truck one night. It carried saw logs that were hollowed out and filled with weapons, ammunition, rockets and mortars for the NVA.
You should have seen the secondary explosion that occurred when we shot the logs. It was huge and somewhat like the pictures we'd seen of Pearl Harbor when the Japs hit the powder magazine of a battle ship.
Just prior to the mission, I didn't connect the dots but I would very soon. I didn't have a briefing that included maps and other Intel but if I had seen the map and the LZ, you can bet I would have issued a warning to all that the place had been crawling with NVA only 90 days back.
As I recall it, every Huey in the Air Cav Troop was loaded to capacity with the ARPS. There were probably 12 Hueys involved in the lift and maybe 60 to 70 grunts loaded with M 16s, M 60s, M 79 grenade launchers, full combat packs and lots of ammo.
The Loaches and Cobras went in first and scouted the area. I don't know if they had prepared the LZ with rockets and mini gun fire but I do recall that nothing at all happened during the initial stages of the mission when we made a tactical combat approach. I do remember flying behind Gelsomin and that our rotor blades over lapped his blades during the final stages of the approach to land.
I've thought about that approach a million times and wondered "What in the hell would Gelsomin think if he knew we were so close behind him that our rotor blades were overlapping". I had a lot of time in the Huey at that point of my tour but very little time flying in large formations with so many helicopters carrying so many troops.
Wollman and I had done insertions and extractions before but all of them were sorta hush hush and it was only single ship missions not involving any one but us.
In any event, we made the approach, landed without getting fired at, dropped off the Arps and flew to Xuan Loc where we refueled and waited for the orders to extract the troops at the completion of the mission. I remember being very comfortable hanging around the airstrip at Xuan Loc because I'd spent so much time there when I was flying for Fireball Aviation.
All of that was interrupted when we received word that the Arps had run into the NVA and that one hell of a firefight was under way. We were ordered to fly back to the LZ and extract the Arps so the Air Force could could in with fighter bombers and destroy the bunker complexes and surrounding area with napalm, high explosive bombs and rockets. Lots of stuff had to happen before the fast movers could come in so we hauled ass to the LZ to make the extraction. That's when the trouble began.
John Finnerty, the pilot I was flying with that day, sat in the right seat of the Huey and was just as calm as anyone could imagine. We all went to a higher level of intensity when we received a call on the UHF radio.
This was never done as UHF and VHF was reserved from other communications like control towers or Approach Control. We always conducted ship to ship communications or air to ground commo through our FM radio. It was always tuned to the ground commander's frequency and we had to have commo between the ship and the Arps before we executed an extraction under fire.
When we received the word that the attempts to contact us by radio had failed, we were given orders to double check our commo. Nothing worked, we heard nothing and could transmit nothing. From that standpoint, we were deaf and mute. Orders were given for Finnerty and I to set up a holding pattern west of the LZ and to await further orders.
We pulled out of formation, flew to the area where we were going to execute a holding pattern, and watched the other 11 Hueys go into the LZ. We already knew that there was one hell of a firefight going on between the Arps and the NVA but we didn't have a clue if the firefight was on the edge of the LZ or if it was farther away from the LZ which would have made the LZ somewhat safer for the extraction.
I guess it really didn't make any difference because we would never leave anybody on the ground that needed to get out and regardless of where the NVA were or how many were there, the Hueys were going in anyway and they were going to get our guys out. Period.
We knew something was wrong when we watched the Hueys executing quick stop maneuvers as they approached the spot where they would come to a complete stop and the Arps would board the helicopters and get out of the LZ.
Quick stops were maneuvers that would allow the Huey to come to a complete stop in as short a period of time as possible. It was a violent maneuver that required a nose high, tail low attitude to bleed off the approach speed in as short a time as possible.
To further the confusion of being deaf and mute, the dust storm caused by the rotor down wash from 11 Hueys, now made us blind. Finnerty and I couldn't see anything that was going on in the LZ other than the dust storm that looked like something out of a movie from the days of the Oklahoma Dust Bowl.
A few moments after the dust storm began, we noticed the first of 11 Hueys pulling out of the LZ. We counted. One, two, three.................Just before we saw the last Huey make it over the trees that surrounded the LZ, the UHF radio clicked and we received another shitty radio call.
"Blue 28, be advised that we have 4 Arps left on the ground and you need to go in and get them out NOW." They are taking cover behind a log that runs along the south side of the road. We will guide you in".
That's when the pucker factor took over. We use pucker factor to describe how "tight" your ass is to the seat.
As we were heading south at the time of the call and the LZ was just east of us, we made what could have been described as a "left wing over" from 1,500' of altitude and dived toward tree top level at VNE. The term "VNE" means "Velocity Not To Exceed".
Basically, it describes the maximum speed limit of the helicopter beyond which, the rotor comes off. When you first hit that speed limit, it's real scary as the helicopter begins to shake violently and lets you know that you are about to die. I'd been in it once before but never in a Huey. In any event, even though we were flying at the red line, we reached tree top level and the "dive portion of our approach was over". There was no rotor vibration and I knew we'd made it okay to that point.
I couldn't see the LZ from tree top level but I could see the area where the trees stopped and an open area without trees began. I received another radio call on UHF. Somebody came on the radio and gave us what we called a non gyro GCA approach.
He said: "Blue 28, turn right"..............and a second later, he ended the call with "stop turn." He helped us line up with the road that ran through the LZ and allowed us to make a straight in approach to the fallen log that the Arps were using as cover. When we passed the last tree and were over the LZ, we began our own quick stop maneuver.
I'll get into the description of the things that were going on in the LZ when we were making our final approach later. It was provided by Ed Ursery, one of the 4 Arps that was left on the ground and it is a most interesting eyewitness report of the story from his perspective.
In any event, despite the fact that we'd been blind, deaf and mute, we'd managed to make it to the area where the log was. As soon as we touched ground, I could hear and literally feel the Arps hitting the floor of the Huey as they jumped on board. I counted only three men but immediately.swiveled my head to look out the left side of the Huey cockpit window to see Ed Ursery running his ass off as fast as he could.
When Ed made it to the Huey but before he was completely inside, the Arps and the crew began to yell: "Go, go, go". I grabbed as much pitch as I could without losing rotor RPM and began to take off and get the hell out of there as fast as I could.
Ed had his feet on the skid with his upper torso inside the helicopter. The Arps had him in their grasp so he wouldn't fall out. Despite that, I was too close to some of the shorter trees at the end of the LZ and as I pulled out of the LZ, the chin bubble on the front of the Huey was hit by a limb and the scrub brush and limbs began hitting Ed in the ass and almost pulled his pants off. Again, his version of the details will come shortly.
After all that, with a full load of Arps who had just narrowly escaped death, we began the short trip back to home base at Dian and were there in a matter of 15 minutes or so.
When I pulled the Huey into the revetment where we always parked, the Arps got out and waited next to the Huey while we began our two minute turbine cool down period that had to come before we could shut down and do our post flight inspection. I saw Ed Ursery, Sgt Kerry Earl, Sgt Dee and one other Arp who I didn't know. They looked like death warmed over and simply waited there while we shut down.
When that was finished, Sgt Earl, the senior man, came over to me, put his arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. As he was backing away he said:
"Mr. Butler, you just saved our lives. If anybody ever gives you any shit about anything, you let me know and I'll take care of it. I'll do anything and by that, I mean ANYTHING".
I recall being somewhat exhausted by all of it and I remember watching the 4 Arps walking away from the helipad as we began heading back to our part of the Troop for a well deserved rest and an after action report.
As I close this, I want to remind you that this action took place at the very end of November of 1970 which was a full month before I was caught trying to burn down Vietnam. I will tie all that together shortly but I felt it was important for the readers to understand this before I continue with the story regarding those things that unfolded after the armory situation was discovered.
Hand salute to the many Arps that were there that day, to John Finnerty, a great combat aviator, to the entire Slick Platoon, the crew members, the Cobra gunship pilots and Scout pilots that made all of this possible.
.
.
.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Welcome Aboard, King Raz
Raz, welcome to the blog. If you scroll down to the bottom of the blog page and go to the older posts, click on 2009. That will give you a day to day report of all the stuff that went on from surgery through chemo and radiation.
Best of luck with upcoming surgery. It's easy for me to say "Do not fear" as I've already been through the malignant cancer announcement and all the steps one has to make to get through the treatments. Despite that, if you read the older posts, I think you will see what I mean.
To All Other Readers,
King Raz is a member of the Red River Valley Fighter Pilot's Association and was one of many who had me on the prayer list when I was suppossed to die from the brain surgery and malignant cancer. Please add him to your prayer list as it's his turn to deal with the C thing in his stomach.
Best of luck with upcoming surgery. It's easy for me to say "Do not fear" as I've already been through the malignant cancer announcement and all the steps one has to make to get through the treatments. Despite that, if you read the older posts, I think you will see what I mean.
To All Other Readers,
King Raz is a member of the Red River Valley Fighter Pilot's Association and was one of many who had me on the prayer list when I was suppossed to die from the brain surgery and malignant cancer. Please add him to your prayer list as it's his turn to deal with the C thing in his stomach.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
WWWD! What would Wollman Do?
You guys remember Craig Wollman and the story I told about him and the Nighthawk mission that lasted all night long? If not, you may want to go back to the stories I wrote about him when I was his copilot with the 199th Light Infantry Brigade. The reason I say that has to do with "Plausible Deniability".
By that I mean, I learned everything I knew about combat tactics from Wollman, Femmer, Young and Kat Ballew but 99% of it came from Craig Wollman. Again, the best lesson I ever learned about combat tactics was to throw away the school book, watch what they were doing and simply adapt to the differences that were applicable to the times we were in.
Having said that, before I get into the meat and potatoes of this mission, let me describe a really screwed up situation that existed in December of 1970, roughly 90 days after I came to the 11th Cav from the somewhat famous Fireball Aviation Section of the 199th.
Times were really tough then as we'd suffered 2 KIA's in the Scout Platoon as well as a Scout Pilot and a couple of enlisted gunners who were wounded in action. Nothing like seeing dried blood stains all over the cockpit to start your morning mission with.
In any event, I was more or less "sent to my room", so to speak, on the day that Dan and Blick were killed. The way I see it, our C O knew how to handle 19 to 21 year old pilots during times like those and, having read my entire combat history from the 199th, he sent me to the ready room with orders not to fly until he said so.
I certainly don't mean to insinuate that I was anything special but I feel it is important to note that he already knew I had taken part in blowing up a log truck that was clearly NOT owned by the NVA and that I led a mission where we dropped CS gas canisters over a "No Fly Leper Colony" that was really a VC resupply center but not classified as such.
Looking back on all of it now, I'm sure Major Wulff's decision to ground me was the right thing to do. I recently wrote an Editorial describing that day and I entitled it something like: "Shock, Rage, Adrenaline, Vengeance and Killing".
I remember running into Major Wulff only moments after I'd heard that Dan had been killed. I'm certain now that he saw the eyes of a crazy man who was experiencing the 5 emotions listed above. and, at the same time, had the keys to his minigun equipped helicopter in one hand and a flight helmet in the other.
Despite being grounded during a time like that and knowing that my best friend in the Scout Platoon, Mike Olinger, was already scheduled to fly and running toward HIS minigun equipped helicopter, I got over it.
Since there is a chance that Major Wulff may read this through the link from the 11th Air Cav Site, let me say "Thanks" for the insight and you were totally right as I planned on putting a bullet hole in every square inch of ground between Phu Loi and Phuc Vinh.
I don't know if Major Wulff had a crystal ball but he certainly knew what he was doing and he did it very, very well. He should have been a General.
I say that because shortly after that day, he made sure that I took my first R&R thereby removing me from the unit for a full week until calmer minds prevailed. It was a great break for me as I flew to Shreveport for a couple of days during Christmas of 1970. It was incredible.
As I was returning to the unit from my Christmas R&R, I remember the Budweiser Beer drinking binge I'd been on but the closer I got to Vietnam, I remember thinking about Dan and the scenes of the Troop area when I left for R&R.
I knew I wasn't finished with it but I wasn't experiencing any of the madness that comes immediately after those things happened. That would change the second I flew into Dian and reported for duty.
To my complete shock and horror, I discovered that my best friend in the Scout Platoon had been shot down, crashed and burned. I was told that the shoot down and resulting wounds were so bad that Mike and his gunner had to be medically evacuated from Vietnam and that I might never see them again.
To say that my return to the unit was a shock, is an understatement. Even though I wasn't crazy that day, crazy like I was on the day that Dan and Blick were killed, I knew I was going to do something to take my vengeance.
I began to make plans to inflict as much pain as possible on the VC and NVA that were roaming the areas where they'd been shot down. The problems with doing that and not getting caught were astronomical.
I was a Scout Pilot and only had unencumbered access to the Hughes OH 6. Even though it was equipped with a 4,000 round per minute mini gun and came with a gunner who held a 650 round per minute M 60 machine gun, something just didn't seem right and I couldn't come up with a plan to sneak away from the unit and do my dirty deeds.
As good fortune would have it, I already had lots of time flying Hueys and my friend and future room mate, CW2 Joe Hight, was our unit 's AMOC officer. That's Aircraft Maintenance Officer in Charge and he had an open door policy on every aircraft in the unit. Basically, he could go to any of the 36 helicopters in our unit and fly off in it without permission. He was the source of "permission" and had the power to ground any helicopter he wanted whenever he wanted to.
This is important to know because it will explain to you how I was able to steal a Huey and not get caught. There's some of that "Plausible Deniability" I mentioned early on. I could deny anything and justify it by claiming that I was serving as a test pilot on a maintenance flight and helping the poor, overworked AMOC officer.
My plan seemed to unfold as soon as I connected the dots between me and Joe Hight. I knew I could get my hands on a Huey anytime I wanted it and if I wasn't on flight duty and scheduled to fly Scouts that day, everybody would have viewed me as simply helping out.
I don't know how in the hell the intelligence report I needed came from an enlisted man, but in reality, the enlisted guys knew everything and the old saying that Sergeants ran the Army, was true.
As things started off, it appeared that the flight surgeon needed a pilot to fly him to Vung Tau to inspect the prostitutes for sexually transmitted diseases. The reason that's important has to do with the fact that the enlisted man in charge of the armory, wanted to be a nurse and the Flight Surgeon wanted to be a helicopter pilot.
That's when it all came together for me. I only took a minute to visualize the flight to Vung Tau with Doc Pramus sitting in the co pilot's seat of the Huey, the armory guy sitting in the back, anxiously awaiting to see so many naked girls, and my people stealing everything they could get their hands on out of the armory. It was a dream come true for me and it solved a whole lot of problems.
Since there was a ban on using Agent Orange in this area, a decision that only provided more growth of the jungle and better places to hide for the NVA and VC, it seemed perfectly logical for me to burn the whole damn place to the ground. I really thought it out.
The area I was concerned about was only 8 miles wide. Even though a Huey isn't a rocket ship, I could cover that distance in less than 4 minutes. With a group of enlisted men in the back, tossing out as many thermite grenades as they could possibly throw, I figured that they could sew a couple of hundred thermite fire starters out the side of the Huey before I had to turn around and head back.
Since the distance between Phu Loi and Phuc Vinh was about 20 miles, there were 160 square miles of area that I wanted to destroy. As I saw it, as long as the wind stayed at about 10 knots and remained out of the south, I could put about 400 thermite grenades on the ground and subject the jungle to one hell of a forest fire that could cover the 20 mile distance to Phuc Vinh in a couple of hours. Man, did I ever think I had that one figured out!
In any event, before I knew it, we'd returned and my bandits had the Huey loaded with a zillion thermite grenades and, with Joe Hight's Huey, off we went.
I didn't have the wind velocity I'd hoped for but it was out of the south and that was good enough for me. Hell, I didn't care if it took two hours or all day long. As long as I could burn the place down, I figured we would be able to see the bunkers and L shaped trenches that were common in that part of Vietnam and Cambodia.
With all that exposed, I could visualize our Cobra pilots shooting 2.75" diameter high explosive rockets into the bunkers or the Air Force pilots dropping napalm on the red smoke canisters we would drop on the targets to be eliminated.
The enlisted men, not to be robbed of their revenge for Dan, Blick, Mike and his gunner, would fantasize the NVA running out of the bunkers with their uniforms on fire only to be shot by the gunners. We were a group of mighty pissed off 20 to 21 year olds with a huge grudge.
Having successfully started what I hoped to be the largest forest fire in the history of South Vietnam, I was quite pleased to make it back to base in plenty of time not to be missed. Since it's true that pride comes before a fall, let me say that everything was perfect and I was quite proud of myself until the wind changed and blew the wall of smoke toward Long Binh Air Force Base, shutting it down as a result of "zero visibility". That, as they say, is when the shit hit the fan for me.
Having said all these things and since it's 1:30 in the morning, I'll have to close now and make my next post the one that covers getting caught. There's a bit more of What Would Wollman Do in that one, too.
I hope you guys enjoyed this and those of you who remembered it, I hope you get a laugh out of it.
G'nite
Tim
By that I mean, I learned everything I knew about combat tactics from Wollman, Femmer, Young and Kat Ballew but 99% of it came from Craig Wollman. Again, the best lesson I ever learned about combat tactics was to throw away the school book, watch what they were doing and simply adapt to the differences that were applicable to the times we were in.
Having said that, before I get into the meat and potatoes of this mission, let me describe a really screwed up situation that existed in December of 1970, roughly 90 days after I came to the 11th Cav from the somewhat famous Fireball Aviation Section of the 199th.
Times were really tough then as we'd suffered 2 KIA's in the Scout Platoon as well as a Scout Pilot and a couple of enlisted gunners who were wounded in action. Nothing like seeing dried blood stains all over the cockpit to start your morning mission with.
In any event, I was more or less "sent to my room", so to speak, on the day that Dan and Blick were killed. The way I see it, our C O knew how to handle 19 to 21 year old pilots during times like those and, having read my entire combat history from the 199th, he sent me to the ready room with orders not to fly until he said so.
I certainly don't mean to insinuate that I was anything special but I feel it is important to note that he already knew I had taken part in blowing up a log truck that was clearly NOT owned by the NVA and that I led a mission where we dropped CS gas canisters over a "No Fly Leper Colony" that was really a VC resupply center but not classified as such.
Looking back on all of it now, I'm sure Major Wulff's decision to ground me was the right thing to do. I recently wrote an Editorial describing that day and I entitled it something like: "Shock, Rage, Adrenaline, Vengeance and Killing".
I remember running into Major Wulff only moments after I'd heard that Dan had been killed. I'm certain now that he saw the eyes of a crazy man who was experiencing the 5 emotions listed above. and, at the same time, had the keys to his minigun equipped helicopter in one hand and a flight helmet in the other.
Despite being grounded during a time like that and knowing that my best friend in the Scout Platoon, Mike Olinger, was already scheduled to fly and running toward HIS minigun equipped helicopter, I got over it.
Since there is a chance that Major Wulff may read this through the link from the 11th Air Cav Site, let me say "Thanks" for the insight and you were totally right as I planned on putting a bullet hole in every square inch of ground between Phu Loi and Phuc Vinh.
I don't know if Major Wulff had a crystal ball but he certainly knew what he was doing and he did it very, very well. He should have been a General.
I say that because shortly after that day, he made sure that I took my first R&R thereby removing me from the unit for a full week until calmer minds prevailed. It was a great break for me as I flew to Shreveport for a couple of days during Christmas of 1970. It was incredible.
As I was returning to the unit from my Christmas R&R, I remember the Budweiser Beer drinking binge I'd been on but the closer I got to Vietnam, I remember thinking about Dan and the scenes of the Troop area when I left for R&R.
I knew I wasn't finished with it but I wasn't experiencing any of the madness that comes immediately after those things happened. That would change the second I flew into Dian and reported for duty.
To my complete shock and horror, I discovered that my best friend in the Scout Platoon had been shot down, crashed and burned. I was told that the shoot down and resulting wounds were so bad that Mike and his gunner had to be medically evacuated from Vietnam and that I might never see them again.
To say that my return to the unit was a shock, is an understatement. Even though I wasn't crazy that day, crazy like I was on the day that Dan and Blick were killed, I knew I was going to do something to take my vengeance.
I began to make plans to inflict as much pain as possible on the VC and NVA that were roaming the areas where they'd been shot down. The problems with doing that and not getting caught were astronomical.
I was a Scout Pilot and only had unencumbered access to the Hughes OH 6. Even though it was equipped with a 4,000 round per minute mini gun and came with a gunner who held a 650 round per minute M 60 machine gun, something just didn't seem right and I couldn't come up with a plan to sneak away from the unit and do my dirty deeds.
As good fortune would have it, I already had lots of time flying Hueys and my friend and future room mate, CW2 Joe Hight, was our unit 's AMOC officer. That's Aircraft Maintenance Officer in Charge and he had an open door policy on every aircraft in the unit. Basically, he could go to any of the 36 helicopters in our unit and fly off in it without permission. He was the source of "permission" and had the power to ground any helicopter he wanted whenever he wanted to.
This is important to know because it will explain to you how I was able to steal a Huey and not get caught. There's some of that "Plausible Deniability" I mentioned early on. I could deny anything and justify it by claiming that I was serving as a test pilot on a maintenance flight and helping the poor, overworked AMOC officer.
My plan seemed to unfold as soon as I connected the dots between me and Joe Hight. I knew I could get my hands on a Huey anytime I wanted it and if I wasn't on flight duty and scheduled to fly Scouts that day, everybody would have viewed me as simply helping out.
I don't know how in the hell the intelligence report I needed came from an enlisted man, but in reality, the enlisted guys knew everything and the old saying that Sergeants ran the Army, was true.
As things started off, it appeared that the flight surgeon needed a pilot to fly him to Vung Tau to inspect the prostitutes for sexually transmitted diseases. The reason that's important has to do with the fact that the enlisted man in charge of the armory, wanted to be a nurse and the Flight Surgeon wanted to be a helicopter pilot.
That's when it all came together for me. I only took a minute to visualize the flight to Vung Tau with Doc Pramus sitting in the co pilot's seat of the Huey, the armory guy sitting in the back, anxiously awaiting to see so many naked girls, and my people stealing everything they could get their hands on out of the armory. It was a dream come true for me and it solved a whole lot of problems.
Since there was a ban on using Agent Orange in this area, a decision that only provided more growth of the jungle and better places to hide for the NVA and VC, it seemed perfectly logical for me to burn the whole damn place to the ground. I really thought it out.
The area I was concerned about was only 8 miles wide. Even though a Huey isn't a rocket ship, I could cover that distance in less than 4 minutes. With a group of enlisted men in the back, tossing out as many thermite grenades as they could possibly throw, I figured that they could sew a couple of hundred thermite fire starters out the side of the Huey before I had to turn around and head back.
Since the distance between Phu Loi and Phuc Vinh was about 20 miles, there were 160 square miles of area that I wanted to destroy. As I saw it, as long as the wind stayed at about 10 knots and remained out of the south, I could put about 400 thermite grenades on the ground and subject the jungle to one hell of a forest fire that could cover the 20 mile distance to Phuc Vinh in a couple of hours. Man, did I ever think I had that one figured out!
In any event, before I knew it, we'd returned and my bandits had the Huey loaded with a zillion thermite grenades and, with Joe Hight's Huey, off we went.
I didn't have the wind velocity I'd hoped for but it was out of the south and that was good enough for me. Hell, I didn't care if it took two hours or all day long. As long as I could burn the place down, I figured we would be able to see the bunkers and L shaped trenches that were common in that part of Vietnam and Cambodia.
With all that exposed, I could visualize our Cobra pilots shooting 2.75" diameter high explosive rockets into the bunkers or the Air Force pilots dropping napalm on the red smoke canisters we would drop on the targets to be eliminated.
The enlisted men, not to be robbed of their revenge for Dan, Blick, Mike and his gunner, would fantasize the NVA running out of the bunkers with their uniforms on fire only to be shot by the gunners. We were a group of mighty pissed off 20 to 21 year olds with a huge grudge.
Having successfully started what I hoped to be the largest forest fire in the history of South Vietnam, I was quite pleased to make it back to base in plenty of time not to be missed. Since it's true that pride comes before a fall, let me say that everything was perfect and I was quite proud of myself until the wind changed and blew the wall of smoke toward Long Binh Air Force Base, shutting it down as a result of "zero visibility". That, as they say, is when the shit hit the fan for me.
Having said all these things and since it's 1:30 in the morning, I'll have to close now and make my next post the one that covers getting caught. There's a bit more of What Would Wollman Do in that one, too.
I hope you guys enjoyed this and those of you who remembered it, I hope you get a laugh out of it.
G'nite
Tim
Thursday, June 7, 2012
I Don't Own A White Flag.
Recently, something happened that has stimulated me to voice my opinion about a number of things. They range from Veterans Affairs and go all the way to the things that we refer to as Being Politically Correct.
Personally, I think that the term Political Correctness is a catch phrase that in effect, forces us to hide the reality of things by changing the words. As an example of that, I will use Newt Gingrich's statement describing certain groups in our society as "Non Rotarian Individuals".
I am positive that the real description would be more effective. If you are wondering about that segment of society that Gingrich was referring to, please google the events that happened at the World Trade Center in New York on September 11th to find out who exactly he is referring to. Get the picture?
In any event, regardless of the thoughts some might have about Political Correctness and how that almost certainly "modifies" the descriptor when telling a story, one might conclude that the story teller is either afraid to use the real term or is simply in denial and can not accept the real names used that most accurately identifies the subject, person, place or thing. More than anything, I believe it's fear.
If you are afraid to use the real name, why are you afraid?
We've already reached a point where using real names like God, Jesus Christ and Christianity is banned in a zillion places. How can it possibly be? If it's okay to be a preacher in Chicago and say "God Damn America" and have that published all over the net, television and radio, how can it possibly be that we can't say "God Bless America" in our public schools?
I don't like any of those things but I have reached a point where my big brother's counsel and definition regarding the word "Acceptance", comes together and gives one a very specific definition of what acceptance really means. He did that in two stages and started off by telling me what Acceptance is NOT.
It's NOT approval, consent, permission, authorization, sanction, concurrence, agreement, compliance, sympathy,endorsement, confirmation, support, ratification, assistance, advocating, backing, maintaining, authenticating, reinforcing, cultivating, encouraging, furthering, promoting, aiding, abetting, or even liking what it is.
When he finished with his definition of what Acceptance ISN'T, he told me what it really is.
He started off by quoting Gertrude Stein who said: "A rose is a rose is a rose". He gave me another example from Popeye the Sailor Man, who said: "I yam what I yam". He then said that both of them understood acceptance. When he finished with that he gave me another example.
As he was giving me his last few words about acceptance, I visualized a guy holding a balloon full of helium in one hand and a steel ball in the other. As Leland continued with his explanations I conceptualized the guy letting go of the balloon and watching it fly up and away and at the same time, watching him drop the steel ball which immediately fell to the floor. This vision appeared to me while Leland was saying:
""When reality confronts our notion of what reality should be, reality always wins. Drop something while believing gravity shouldn't make it fall, and it falls anyway. We don't like this so we struggle with reality, become upset or turn away from it and become unconscious".
Having said these things to you today, rather than trying to tie in the Veterans Affairs thing, I'm going to bed as the medications I take for the radiation damage to my brain and my brain swelling medications have begun to take hold of me and put me in that zone where I'm just about to fall off my chair.
I will say that I'm surrounded by the Nation's Finest every time I go to the VA for treatment or follow ups and that the care I have received there has been so good, it simply runs off the chart and continues to rocket skyward. More tomorrow.
Thanks again to Leland. Steve Dupuy and the famous Bernard T Diable for the continued support and encouragement for me to continue with my thoughts about these posts and the many areas of concerns and history that I wish to share with all who have an open mind.
Above all things, thanks for identifying my frustrations as being something that can be traced to the foundation of my being that is explained by the fact that I don't have the white flag of surrender and will not roll over and cower in my fox hole.
Good night. .
Personally, I think that the term Political Correctness is a catch phrase that in effect, forces us to hide the reality of things by changing the words. As an example of that, I will use Newt Gingrich's statement describing certain groups in our society as "Non Rotarian Individuals".
I am positive that the real description would be more effective. If you are wondering about that segment of society that Gingrich was referring to, please google the events that happened at the World Trade Center in New York on September 11th to find out who exactly he is referring to. Get the picture?
In any event, regardless of the thoughts some might have about Political Correctness and how that almost certainly "modifies" the descriptor when telling a story, one might conclude that the story teller is either afraid to use the real term or is simply in denial and can not accept the real names used that most accurately identifies the subject, person, place or thing. More than anything, I believe it's fear.
If you are afraid to use the real name, why are you afraid?
We've already reached a point where using real names like God, Jesus Christ and Christianity is banned in a zillion places. How can it possibly be? If it's okay to be a preacher in Chicago and say "God Damn America" and have that published all over the net, television and radio, how can it possibly be that we can't say "God Bless America" in our public schools?
I don't like any of those things but I have reached a point where my big brother's counsel and definition regarding the word "Acceptance", comes together and gives one a very specific definition of what acceptance really means. He did that in two stages and started off by telling me what Acceptance is NOT.
It's NOT approval, consent, permission, authorization, sanction, concurrence, agreement, compliance, sympathy,endorsement, confirmation, support, ratification, assistance, advocating, backing, maintaining, authenticating, reinforcing, cultivating, encouraging, furthering, promoting, aiding, abetting, or even liking what it is.
When he finished with his definition of what Acceptance ISN'T, he told me what it really is.
He started off by quoting Gertrude Stein who said: "A rose is a rose is a rose". He gave me another example from Popeye the Sailor Man, who said: "I yam what I yam". He then said that both of them understood acceptance. When he finished with that he gave me another example.
As he was giving me his last few words about acceptance, I visualized a guy holding a balloon full of helium in one hand and a steel ball in the other. As Leland continued with his explanations I conceptualized the guy letting go of the balloon and watching it fly up and away and at the same time, watching him drop the steel ball which immediately fell to the floor. This vision appeared to me while Leland was saying:
""When reality confronts our notion of what reality should be, reality always wins. Drop something while believing gravity shouldn't make it fall, and it falls anyway. We don't like this so we struggle with reality, become upset or turn away from it and become unconscious".
Having said these things to you today, rather than trying to tie in the Veterans Affairs thing, I'm going to bed as the medications I take for the radiation damage to my brain and my brain swelling medications have begun to take hold of me and put me in that zone where I'm just about to fall off my chair.
I will say that I'm surrounded by the Nation's Finest every time I go to the VA for treatment or follow ups and that the care I have received there has been so good, it simply runs off the chart and continues to rocket skyward. More tomorrow.
Thanks again to Leland. Steve Dupuy and the famous Bernard T Diable for the continued support and encouragement for me to continue with my thoughts about these posts and the many areas of concerns and history that I wish to share with all who have an open mind.
Above all things, thanks for identifying my frustrations as being something that can be traced to the foundation of my being that is explained by the fact that I don't have the white flag of surrender and will not roll over and cower in my fox hole.
Good night. .
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Getting back on track
It's hard to get back on track when you are in the middle of a bombardment that comes with the new meds. Bare with me. I probably have some apologies to make but to those who may think they have one coming, please "accept" that my brain does NOT work the way it used to. I simply have a little trouble working within the parlimentary procedures of a chat room as oppossed to that of a site that is more historical in nature. Sorry bout that, guys.
Tim
Tim
Bernie and Big Brother
I'm probably going to delete the previous post as I have received an email from Bernie who was my tac officer at Ft. Wolters in 1969. He explained to me that my previous posts were read by his daughter and that after reading them she managed to get a clear picture of what her Daddy's role was during that time.
As pissed off as I've been recently regarding the blocking of the Wall in DC for a photo op, Bernie managed to recharge my battery and get me back on the historical track of reporting the war from my perspective. In a sense, he unplugged my pissed off machine and rebooted the real thing that those posts were based upon.
As I thought about that and the number of comments I'd received about Craig Wollman's guidance when I was his co pilot, I began to get a sense that being pissed about PC issues needed to be set aside for another time and not cause any further conflict with what I wanted to write about.
Leland told me that I might consider a situation where I showed up at a football game with an LSU sticker on my rear windshield and what that might mean to the opposing team. Even though I like all the teams in the SEC, I got his meaning and with Bernie's note, decided to get back on track. Thanks to Big Brother and Bernie for a little help along the way. I appreciate the input.
Tim
As pissed off as I've been recently regarding the blocking of the Wall in DC for a photo op, Bernie managed to recharge my battery and get me back on the historical track of reporting the war from my perspective. In a sense, he unplugged my pissed off machine and rebooted the real thing that those posts were based upon.
As I thought about that and the number of comments I'd received about Craig Wollman's guidance when I was his co pilot, I began to get a sense that being pissed about PC issues needed to be set aside for another time and not cause any further conflict with what I wanted to write about.
Leland told me that I might consider a situation where I showed up at a football game with an LSU sticker on my rear windshield and what that might mean to the opposing team. Even though I like all the teams in the SEC, I got his meaning and with Bernie's note, decided to get back on track. Thanks to Big Brother and Bernie for a little help along the way. I appreciate the input.
Tim
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
