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Always for LIBERTY, And the public GOOD.
When Your Child Comes Back from War
Last month, the last remnants of the U.S. military left Iraq. It appears that military activity in Afghanistan will see a similar decline in the next few years. That means there will be a new surge, that of young military personnel coming home to wind down their enlistments and landing at their parents’ doorsteps in what their parents surely hope will be a transitory stage to the next phase of their lives. I’d like to offer my thoughts from a parent’s perspective and the emotional see-saw I experienced when my son deployed and returned home from a combat tour in some of the worst places on earth.
My son Alex deployed with Third Stryker Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division out of Fort Lewis, Washington, in mid-2006, just before he turned 21. He would mark his 22nd birthday as well while on deployment. When Alex left Kuwait City for Mosul, Iraq in July of 2006, things were pretty quiet and his early e-mailed dispatches reflected that. I kind of looked at it as a bit of an adventure for him, as it seemed like they weren’t going to get into anything really hairy. But almost right away, just before the Christmas of 2006, his unit was moved to Baghdad and that’s when I started getting jumpy. I had already bought every book that came out about the experience of soldiers and Marines on the ground in Iraq and a few on Afghanistan. I linked to numerous websites and had e-mail alerts set up with keywords “Mosul”, “Baghdad,” “Strykers,”, “5/20″, etc. I just couldn’t get enough information about what was going on.
Every morning when I hit my office I would bring up my e-mail, hoping that Alex had enough time during my nighttime to dash off some news. In kind of a perverse way, I felt quite excited and alive and engaged in the whole affair, watching events from afar but able to keep in pretty close contact with Alex through e-mails, his blog postings on “Army of Dude” and even the occasional phone call. When Alex would mention that he would be going offline for a few days for one mission or another, I got a little nervous but I had a great deal of confidence in his training, skill level and the ability of his fellow soldiers to take care of each other. I just checked my e-mail frequently until he finished his mission and dropped a quick note of news. Then I would breathe a big sigh of relief.
In the spring of 2007, Alex’s unit was told they would move into the city of Baqubah in Diyala Province. Their mission was to be the point of the spear of what was being called the “Surge.” Their objective was to root out the dead-enders, the remnants of al-Qaeda in Iraq who had fled there from Baghdad. It got bad there as soon as he arrived. First he lost his good friend, Corporal Brian Chevalier, then his former team leader, Staff Sergeant Jesse Williams. I had been praying pretty often before, but after those losses I really stepped it up. Morning, noon, and night I asked God to watch over Alex and his buddies, to keep all of them safe and to send them home intact. Every night when I went to bed, I prayed that a pair of Army officers wearing dress uniforms and bearing tragic news wouldn’t ring my doorbell before dawn. As spring turned to summer and the Surge got going hot and heavy, I remained calm when earlier I would have thought that I’d be frantic. I just had a feeling that it would all turn out well for Alex; that he’d soon be on his way home to his mother, his sister, and to me.
A little more than four years ago, on September 12th, 2007, the war was over for me.
Alex and his unit finally returned to Fort Lewis. It was the second greatest feeling of my life to hug him tight, only behind the time I first held him seconds after he was born. But soon a strange thing happened to me. I suddenly lost nearly all of my tightly focused interest in the war. I shut off all of my e-mail alerts and stopped looking at all the war-related websites. It was as if Alex—who represented my personal stake in the war—came home safe, then it was all wrapped up for me nice and neat. I’ve kept up with the news from Iraq and Afghanistan since then, but with nothing like the intensity I previously felt.
So now the departure of our troops from Iraq has been underway and the inexorable drawing down of our strength in Afghanistan leads me to think about what parents of those service members have begun to deal with. Allow me to offer a few recommendations based on my own experiences when Alex came home.
Give your child some space and let them decompress. Alex’s mother and I left Seattle the day after his return, as we knew he needed some time to himself to readjust to life in the world. We would see him soon enough for the holidays and thereafter. I had eyeballed him pretty closely upon his return, looking for any overt signs of change, but I didn’t see anything significant. I remember being a little surprised that he appeared to have put on a little weight while in transit from Iraq via Kuwait. I had expected him to look somewhat gaunt and haggard after all he had been through. But at least on the outside, in a physical sense, he looked just fine. But I knew from my extensive reading that the things he saw and did would forever mark him as different from the rest of us, in ways that not even I as his father could ever fully grasp. So, parents, you must accept the fact that even though your child is back home, they are not the same person whom you saw get on the plane to go to war. Hopefully they will not be greatly different afterwards. Be thankful above all that they have returned alive and in most cases, without physical injury. (I won’t attempt to speak to those parents whose child has suffered a traumatic injury to mind or body or both. I’m totally unqualified for that).
And finally, don’t ask a lot of questions. When they want to talk, it will come tumbling out until they’ve had their say. But expect them to be mostly quiet about what happened over there. It’s kind of a sad thing to have a very significant part of your child’s life mostly walled off from you as a caring and loving parent. But that’s part of what we as parents had to give up just as our children gave up something precious out of their own lives when they signed up to serve. They’ll carry the secret with them for the rest of their days, a secret known only to them and their fellow soldiers alongside of whom they fought.
Encourage them to keep in touch with their former buddies, for it will only be by spending time with them on visits or reunions will your child be able to fully open up and express the feelings that by necessity they must keep walled off from the rest of us non-warriors.
Jeff Horton served as a supply officer in the U.S. Navy and Naval Reserve. He deployed in support of Operation Urgent Fury in 1983. His son, Alex Horton, served as an Army infantryman in Iraq in 2006-2007.
What does it mean to be a Veteran?
by Steven Vandervort
The life altering decision to join the military comes with much that is never heard nor seen by the general public. Much of this commitment is both physically and mentally life altering. For many Veterans’, they carry their memories internally within their head and may on occasion share them with friends, family or in general conversation. Many do not! So, what does it mean to be a Veteran?
Being a Veteran means lying in your bedroom all night in fear as an 18 year old without sleeping knowing that you’re shipping off to Parris Island, South Carolina to start your Marine Corps career in a few hours.
Being a Veteran means having your heart beat well beyond its MHR (maximum heart rate) as that first drill instructor steps on the bus screaming at an octave you’ve never heard before and telling you that you have ten seconds to get off of the bus and line up on the little yellow footprints outside of the bus.
Being a Veteran means jumping into bed at perfectly rigid attention each night on a bed with perfectly folded corners that you could bounce a quarter off of. While lying in the top bunk of that metal grey bunk bed on a 100% wool blanket that is itching the hell out of your back, you and 70 – 85 other guys sing in unison the Marine Corp Hymn followed by Amazing Grace each night as you go to bed.
Being a Veteran means sitting in Korea one day during a 10 day field exercise and waking up to a snowstorm and losing all feeling or movement sensation and/or abilities in both of your feet for 4 – 5 hours from having borderline frostbite.
Being a Veteran means countless live fire exercises for which little to no hearing protection was used or available. It also means sitting on top of a main battle tank on one of these occasions while it fires off its main gun. This and countless years more of the same leads to a life of always having to explain to people that you didn’t quite hear what they just said.
Being a Veteran means finding out in excruciating pain that your lung had spontaneously collapsed while you were going through an age old Navy crossing the equator tradition called (shellback ceremony) which involved you being so physically abused and humiliated that it’s actually funny to look back on now. You finished but spend the next 5 days in the hospital as your lung re-inflates.
Being a Veteran means having surgery to your right knee from a golf ball sized blood clot which you proudly received while practicing hand to hand combat with your platoon one day.
Being a Veteran means countless nights and years of adventure stories of wild drinking and partying all over the pacific which lead to borderline alcoholism as a young adult.
Being a Veteran means seeing your family for one time only for 30 days during your first four years in service due to being stationed in Hawaii and your starting pay at that time was only $510.00 a month.
Being a Veteran means spending two Christmas’s sitting in a bar in the Philippines and two others sitting on the beach in Hawaii all away from family.
Being a Veteran means making that ultimate decision to leave the service and then going back home to a snail pace environment where you just don’t seem to fit in socially, emotionally, or mentally.
Being a Veteran means bouncing around from job to job for four years and coming close to committing suicide as a last resort if getting back into the service didn’t work out.
Being a Veteran means feeling the absolute pride, joy, exhilaration and emotional gratification of getting back into the service, Army this time, and graduating from Airborne School and being stationed in the famed 82nd Airborne Division.
Being a Veteran means knowing that you’ve broken your foot on the 3rd day of a 30 day long leadership training course at Ft. Bragg, N.C. and refusing to seek medical attention or dropping from the course because you will not embarrass your unit or go through the self humiliation of dropping from the course. You complete the remainder of the course running 3 – 5 miles a day and even parachute jump from helicopter on this same broken foot. One week after graduating from the course your foot is in a cast and you eventually have surgery on the foot two years later.
Being a Veteran means the absolute pride of being selected to the color guard team and having the ultimate honor of carrying the Army flag with all of its battle streamers as part of that color guard team during the 82nd Airborne Division All American Review. Standing directly in front of you is the Division Commander and thousands of spectators and knowing that 14,400 of America’s finest paratroopers are standing directly behind you enables you to withstand the mind boggling pain and suffering that it takes to hold that flag for 4 ½ hours during the ceremony. Sheer willpower and the support of comrades standing next to you help you to prevail in holding an extremely heavy flag with one arm in a stiff breeze one very hot and humid day in the North Carolina sun. After the ceremony, you literally have to have a couple of friends help you pry your fingers from the flag pole as your hand will not open on its own.
Being a Veteran means meeting your future wife, best friend, companion, and mother to your children while on a four 4 day weekend pass. Then abruptly shipping off to the first Gulf War on a dimes notice and proudly supporting your country for what you’ve trained for and prepared for your whole adult life and knowing at the same time that you will now be separated from that same joyous person that you just became acquainted with.
Being a Veteran means driving along in a 5 ton truck the first day of the ground war and looking off to the side at the many small craters all around you and wondering what the small black things are and then realization hits you. You’re driving around and over top of unexploded munitions which came from a Multiple Launch Rocket System attack earlier in the day. Too funny huh!
Being a Veteran means driving along that same day and hearing a screaming incoming 105 Howitzer round coming in and it lands less than 50 – 75 yards from you and luckily doesn’t explode. Whew, that was close.
Being a Veteran means giving up on your lifelong dreams of becoming a Special Forces soldier (Green Beret) in order to commit to your new wife. You then volunteer yourself to be transferred closer to home to The 3rd Infantry “The Old Guard”, the unit responsible for all parades and ceremonies in the DC area and all funerals at Arlington National Cemetery.
Being a Veteran means dressing in authentic colonial uniforms made of 100% heavy wool while wearing a colonial wig and hat and performing countless ceremonies in 95 degree DC weather in August with 100% humidity which typically last for an hour to and 1 and a half and you absolutely cannot move and inch. The burning and blinding pain of sweat in your eyes and bee’s either buzzing your face or crawling on them and knowing you’re forbidden to do anything about it because movement of any kind would be a huge embarrassment to the unit, organization, and/or the Army during these high profile and very public visible ceremonies. Even being in top physical condition running 5 – 8 miles a day, you can lose 3 – 4 pounds during one of these ceremonies.
Being a Veteran means the pride of having your new pregnant wife with you when you re-enlist with an American flag at the ready at the steps of the Lincoln Memorial with the Washington Monument and the Capital in the background.
Being a Veteran means that you take part in well over a 100 funerals in your 3 years in The Old Guard many at Arlington National Cemetery. Additionally, out of these funerals, you present the flag to the next of kin roughly 60 times or so during very somber yet emotional military funerals in the surrounding DC area.
Being a Veteran means the unbelievable joy at becoming a father and knowing that your priorities in life are changing. Again, you make a sacrifice for the family which hurts your career mobility and enables you to stay closer to home. The recruiting career begins.
Being a Veteran means years and years of ungodly mental and emotional stress which is forced upon you to meet the quota’s which the Army Recruiting Command needs to sustain itself.
Being a Veteran means during one three year stretch of time during your recruiting career you work from 8:00AM – 9:30/10:30PM each day M-F and Saturday from 9:00AM – 6:00PM. Don’t forget to add in the 45 minutes for the drive to work and home each day on top of these hours.
Being a Veteran means 35 NCO (Non Commissioned Officers) recruiters being called into work for a company formation in uniform at 11:30PM one night, on a Sunday night, so that your company commander can try to impose his will upon you as in the words of the commander “the company needs two more enlistments the following day (which in this case would start in about 30 minutes) to make mission for the month and my OER (officer evaluation report) is due at the end of this month and I need for you all to make mission in order for me to get a great performance rating”. It’s unbelievable, the sheer stupidity, ignorance and mentality of some people.
Being a Veteran means the pain that comes from knowing as a father, that because I’m not around due to Army working hours, my wife has had to teach my two boys how to ride bikes, throw baseballs, etc. These are unbelievable painful thoughts that one lives with and can never get back.
Being a Veteran means driving back from the military entrance processing station on five or six occasions with a young woman crying hysterically next to you because she’s about to be dropped at home and has to explain to her parents that the reason she couldn’t join the military is because she just found out she’s pregnant.
Being a Veteran means in the course of making your cold phone calls to high seniors from acquired school lists, you on five or six different occasions call a house asking for a kid in your standard high enthusiastic recruiter voice only to hear dead silence at the other end of the phone. After the mother or father realizes who you are and why you’re calling, they inform you that their son or daughter had been killed in a car accident a few months earlier and you didn’t know about it. The unbelievable guilt associated with knowing what you just did to this family when they may have begun to have a normalized life and out of the blue someone calls asking for their deceased kid messes you up mentally and emotionally for weeks.
Being a Veteran means a breath of fresh air when you get selected to transfer into health care recruiting and are chosen to run the entire New England Health Care Recruiting Team.
Being a Veteran means signing for Army housing in Massachusetts with a clause in the agreement which states the house is full of lead paint because it’s so old.
Being a Veteran means walking around on major college/university campuses and having Gay/Lesbian advocacy rights groups harass, verbally abuse and occasionally threaten you over a DoD policy for which you had nothing to do with.
Being a Veteran means planning your retirement and moving your wife and two kids home a year in advance to locate and settle into your home community only to find out later that the Army has stop loss you. You end up spending two years separated from your wife and kids as a geographical bachelor because of this only getting to fly and/or drive home once maybe twice a month during this two year stretch.
Being a Veteran means agreeing to stay beyond twenty years in order to get transferred back home and becoming the Recruiter Trainer for your battalion.
Being a Veteran means while you were stationed in Boston as a geo-bachelor, your adjoining roommate, a Marine Corp Master Sergeant, who also is getting ready to retire and has moved his family home and is currently assigned as the casualty assistance liaison in the Boston area for USMC combat deaths. Each time a death notice comes in; he begins to crack a little more from the stress of delivering the death notices in person to grief stricken families. You get a case of beer and sit around all night drinking with him each time while he talks and occasional cries and you support him because this is a grieving comrade in arms.
Being a Veteran means coming home from work one day to a note under my door that my USMC buddy had to rush back home because his wife and kids were involved in a head on auto collision. When he finally came back weeks later, he tells you the car that veered across the lane and almost wiped out his family was a car load of illegal immigrants who disappeared the next day never to be seen from again and he now has to deal with multiple expensive bills because of no car insurance etc. for the other car.
Being a Veteran means finally getting to that all important retirement date and having saved vacation days for years to have a three month transition time and you start applying for civilian/federal jobs only to find out that your skill set and/or background or the fact that you’re a veteran is preventing you from even landing any interviews.
Being a Veteran means the gratefulness you feel towards the person who gave you a chance to showcase your talents and was the first person who hired you as a nurse recruiter because he knew the value and skill set you would bring to the job. Thanks TG!
Being a Veteran means the satisfaction you felt after quickly earning the respect of all the nurse managers within your hospital as you were quickly embraced as an equal amongst them from your hard work and dedication.
Being a Veteran means that as an employee of the Veteran’s Healthcare Administration, you now get the chance to pay it forward (hard work, dedication to duty, integrity to the mission, and the ability to relate to veteran’s as you’ve walked a mile in their shoe’s) to all of the past, present, and future Veteran’s who have similar stories locked deep within their heads.
So, “What does being a Veteran mean”? It means extreme sacrifice by yourself and your family. It also means all of the above to include the equally all important sacrifices that your wife and kids have endured along the way sharing in your pain and anguish. It means that families sacrifice as much if not more along this journey and many times are shunned in the communities for which we live and work. It means families never get the recognition for their support and many times don’t receive the same assistance that the veteran receives. It means that you still to this day get major goose bumps on opening day at football home openers when the military fly by takes place and the national anthem is sung. It means you take it seriously when you fly your American flag outside of your house on the 4th of July and Memorial Day. It means even though your body is riddled with multiple problems, aches, and pains, you would do it all over again a heartbeat. Why, because you deeply love this country of ours and you’re damn proud of it; our past, present, and future military members and all of the sacrifices that have been made by them and their families for us to live in this great country and share in the freedoms for which we’re privileged enough to have and for which Veteran’s make these ultimate sacrifices.
That’s what it means to be a Veteran.
Steven Vandervort currently works for the VHA in Maryland as a HR Specialist – Classification. He enlisted into the U.S.M.C. and served from June of 1981 – June of 1985 as an infantryman. Vandervort enlisted into the Army in May of 1989 again as an infantryman (82nd Airborne Division). He retired as an Army Healthcare Recruiter Trainer in October of 2007. Vandervort worked as a nurse recruiter for over two years prior to beginning my career with the VHA in December of 2009.
1st Battalion, 25th Marine Regiment Takes Over Training in Afghanistan
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan – New England based 1st Battalion, 25th Marine Regiment recently deployed to Afghanistan to take over operations for Houston based 1st Battalion, 23rd Marine Regiment at Camp Leatherneck.
When the Texas Marines arrived in Afghanistan, they found themselves conducting almost all of the Afghan Border Policeman training at the site. However, during the course of a steady transition, the Marines are preparing to leave having successfully handed over instructing duties to a mostly Afghan instructor group.
“This site was not expected to be Afghan-led for another two years,” said Gunnery Sgt. Rusty Smith, the site commander and a Houston native. “In addition, the Marines truly set an excellent example of leadership and professionalism I believe will endure for years to come in their Afghan counterparts.”
The Marines who helped develop training at the site are now preparing to transfer authority of operations to a contingent with the Massachusetts-based 1st Battalion, 25th Marine Regiment.
Marines from the 1/25 include natives of Yarmouth, Maine; Pembroke, Weymouth and Boston, Mass; and Shelton and Trumbull, Conn.
“All the training and gear is there for them,” said Smith. “I hope 1/25 does even better than us.”
The 14th U. S. Army Engineers used Rockingham Park as a World War I ampsite.
African Lion
By Air Force Staff Sgt. Jessica Switzer
CAP DRAA, Morocco - The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the stillness was shattered by the roar of artillery. The son of a Lakeville couple crawled out of his tent into the southern Moroccan morning to begin another day.
Marine Reserve Lance Cpl. Tyler R. Goslin, son of Robert and Nancy Goslin of Precinct Street, Lakeville, is in Morocco supporting exercise African Lion 2011.
"I am here to transport food, water, fuel, and other supplies in support of the other units participating in African Lion," said Goslin, a 2002 graduate of Apponequet Regional High School.
African Lion is an exercise between the Kingdom of Morocco and the U.S. that involves more than 2,000 U.S. service members and approximately 900 members of the Royal Moroccan Armed Forces. The exercise serves as a way for both U.S. and Moroccan military members to hone their skills and learn to work together to a accomplish missions.
"This is different from training at home because of the desert terrain, mountains and cities here," said Goslin, a logistics vehicle systems operator assigned to Combat operations Center 44, Cap Draa, Morocco.
In spite of the barriers, Goslin and his fellow servicemembers worked with the Moroccan forces on different types of military training including command post, live fire, peacekeeping operations, disaster response, aerial refueling and low-level flight training. Both the Moroccan and U.S. forces receive valuable training during the course of the exercise.
"I've been in the Marines for about six years, so I've been training the younger guys how to operate and maintain the trucks, strapping down loads, and how to cope with being in the field for so long," said Goslin.
Goslin and his fellow service members not only trained in the Moroccan desert, they lived there as well. They experienced sandstorms, the rain showers of the wet season and the heat that traditionally goes with a desert. They even had an opportunity to spend some time off duty experiencing the culture and seeing the sights.
"Morocco is a very interesting country where you can leave the main port, go through a big city, and travel for hours without seeing another town. It also has some great terrain, from beaches to mountains, fields and deserts," said Goslin.
As the artificial thunder of artillery fire dies away for a moment, the sun rises fully above the desert horizon and begins its journey toward the nearby Atlantic Ocean. Goslin and the other participants in African Lion 2011 go about their business sharing experiences and knowledge with each other and their Moroccan counterparts.
Thriving Beyond the Wounds of War
By Rosie BabinYesterday, March 31, was my son’s eighth “alive day”, or the anniversary of the day he nearly died in Iraq. He spent the day skiing the Rocky Mountains at the National Disabled Veterans Winter Sports Clinic. But he wasn’t just skiing, he was thriving.
It wasn’t always this way. Alan was 22 years old when he was wounded in a firefight while serving in Iraq. He was a medic with the 82nd Airborne Division and was rendering aid to a wounded soldier when he was shot. He spent the next 2½ years in hospitals. During this time, he contracted meningitis and suffered a stroke, which left him paralyzed, unable to speak, eat, or breathe. I was there with him, wondering what the rest of his life would be like.
We were at the Audie Murphy VA hospital in San Antonio, Texas, when Alan’s recreation therapist recommended we try adaptive sports. We tried a few sports, but none seemed to fit Alan because of his brain injury. Then we learned about the winter sports clinic. We showed up at the clinic for the first time in 2006 full of questions. We left after that week knowing there wasn’t anything Alan couldn’t do. For the first time we focused on his abilities, not his disabilities. And for the first time Alan said he ‘felt normal’ at the clinic. We returned to Texas with a renewed sense of purpose and a new set of goals.
I knew I needed to build on what happened at the clinic and help Alan develop his abilities. I immediately set up home health for physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, and cognitive therapy. We set up a home gym in our garage that is wheelchair accessible so Alan can focus on upper body strength. We also started hand cycling and began entering rides in cities across the country.
Today, Alan has come farther than his doctors ever imagined. And the winter sports clinic is the first event on our calendar each year. As the date approaches, Alan begins training specifically for the event with a few exercises I developed at home. For one exercise, he uses two canes to tap sticky pads posted on the kitchen floor to mimic use of the outriggers when skiing. It’s perfect therapy for hand eye coordination. He also uses a broomstick to mimic rowing and work on his truck control. As a result of what he learns here at the clinic, Alan has become a skier, taking up to three ski trips a year.
As the clinic winds down this year, I know Alan will soon start training again for next year. And I know we will continue to see progress in his recovery. And when his “alive day” comes around next year, I know he will once again be thriving at the top of the mountain, and continuing to inspire his family and all those he meets.
Armed Forces Boxing
By Air Force Staff Sgt. Jessica SwitzerLACKLAND AIR FORCE BASE, Texas - He runs countless miles before dawn, spends hours in the gym honing body and mind into a single, well oiled machine. He pours heart and soul with equal amounts of blood, sweat and tears into what has become his normal routine.
That routine, for Navy Seaman Brandon A. Wicker, son of Joseph Smart of Kilton Street and Deborah Wicker of County Street, both from Taunton, has helped him qualify as a competitor in the 2011 Armed Forces Boxing Championships and he has been training for this moment for what seems like a lifetime.
"At 12 years old I was 230 pounds and my dad wanted me to play football, but due to my size I was not eligible to play unless I lost some weight. My dad took me to the gym to lose some pounds to play," said Wicker, a 2007 graduate of Taunton High School. "I haven't stopped boxing since, thanks to 'Chick' Charles H. Rose."
The bell rings, signaling the start of three of the longest minutes in Wicker's life.
In men's amateur boxing the combatants fight three, three-minute rounds with a one-minute break between each round. The fighters earn points for each punch that lands cleanly and with sufficient force on their opponent's head or torso. Competitors wear gloves with a white stripe across the knuckle and only punches that connect with this part of the glove count.
Boxers can win a bout by either scoring more points or knocking out their opponent either truly or technically. A win can lead to more opportunities for the boxer, though not all boxers are in it for the glory. Some are in it for the competition, some like being a part of the team and others just like to box.
"I have been boxing since I was 12 years old and like having the chance to represent the Navy in the sport," said Wicker, a hospital corpsman assigned to Naval Hospital Camp Lejeune, N.C.
The 2011 Armed Forces Boxing Championships featured 35 service members from duty stations around the world in bouts arranged to see who the top fighter is in each of 10 male and four female weight divisions.
Just getting to the competition was an accomplishment for the boxers. Wicker and his fellow athletes had to battle members of their own service and prove they were the top of their weight class before being chosen to compete at these championships.
"Being able to box and serve the Navy is my favorite part of competing," said Wicker, who has completed two years of service.
The bell rings out again ending the round. It's an exhausting exercise in taking hits and delivering them. Though the fighters wear protective head gear, injuries still happen and only the gloves and a fighter's training protect them from body shots.
As the rounds progress, the fighters rely on the training and practice they've had up to this point. They've already proven they are the best in their service. They just have to win this bout to prove they are the best in all the armed forces.
After the final bell rings the winner is announced. Wicker was out pointed in the gold medal match this year, but will be back next year.
The "Human Statue of Liberty"
FACTS:
Base to Shoulder: 150 feet
Right Arm: 340 feet
Widest part of arm holding torch: 12 1/2 feet
Right thumb: 35 feet
Thickest part of body: 29 feet
Left hand length: 30 feet
Face: 60 feet
Nose: 21 feet
Longest spike of head piece: 70 feet
Torch and flame combined: 980 feet
Number of men in flame of torch: 12,000
Number of men in torch: 2,800
Number of men in right arm: 1,200
Number of men in body, head and balance of figure only: 2,000
Total men: 18,000
Readers Share Their Poetry: “My Response to Sgt. Lenihan’s Poem”
Posted by Nick F. Stamatis, Army veteran on July 30, 2010In May we posted a poem by a now deceased World War II veteran named Sgt. James Lenihan, in which he expressed his torment about killing a German solider during the war.
Our post was picked up by CNN, and Lenihan’s son Rob was asked to share the poem with viewers and soon became a part of our national dialogue surrounding Memorial Day. Hearing from readers across the world, it was our mission to help people reflect, share and connect with others who have been affected by similar issues and provide resources to help them.
Army veteran Nick Stamatis, almost 70, was one reader who wanted to help. He posted a poem in the “comments” section of our blog, in response to Lenihan’s poem. Stamatis later told us that when he heard Rob Lenihan read his father’s poem on the news:
“I nearly broke down…. I had the feeling that I needed to give voice to the dying soldier and give Sgt. Lenihan some comfort…. I felt like this guy was carrying this wound with him his whole life…. I thought, I gotta give Sgt. Lenihan some help here.”
We are reposting Lenihan’s poem, along with Stamatis’ poem as a response – we hope this sharing brings comfort to the Lenihan family and the many other warriors and families dealing with or experiencing war’s spiritual wounds. You are not alone.
A Warrior’s Poem: “Murder — So Foul”
By: Sgt. James Lenihan, World War II veteran (1921- 2007)
I shot a man yesterday
And much to my surprise,
The strangest thing happened to me
I began to cry.
He was so young, so very young
And Fear was in his eyes,
He had left his home in Germany
And came to Holland to die.
And what about his Family
were they not praying for him?
Thank God they couldn't see their son
And the man that had murdered him.
I knelt beside him
And held his hand--
I begged his forgiveness
Did he understand?
It was the War
And he was the enemy
If I hadn't shot him
He would have shot me.
I saw he was dying
And I called him "Brother"
But he gasped out one word
And that word was "Mother."
I shot a man yesterday
And much to surprise
A part of me died with Him
When Death came to close
His eyes.
Grieve No More
By: Nick F. Stamatis, Army veteran
Soldier I see you coming,
Scared and cautious down by me.
I see the sadness in your face
As you knell upon your knee.
On this tortured battlefield,
Trading bullets we did meet.
By only fate did yours reach firs,t
And now I’m at your feet.
I fear my life is fleeting
I feel it draining out.
It looks you came to comfort
and to quell my primal shout.
Are those my tears upon your face?
Are they for me or you?
What majesty they bring to me,
It seems you feel it too.
You seem to be about my age,
Maybe friends if I’d but wait.
But my time is going on,
Plummeting towards my fate.
And now you put my hand in yours,
And erase what you have done.
I see the shocking truth so clear.
To stop before war’s begun!
You’ve changed the fear upon my brow,
To a need to express my heart.
And the wish to change things,
Before these battles start.
I have so much to tell you,
So much of you I want to know.
Do you feel my forgiveness,
Tell me quickly before I go.
And as my strength is failing,
My mind is not so clear.
How can I convey my thoughts
To one who’s come to calm my fear.
What one word could I summon,
What one name could I call.
What could I do for you,
That would express it all.
I think that I have it now,
In these moments how I’ve grown.
Trust the meaning of this word.
In tomorrows when you’re home.
Your grace helped and gave me,
A wonderful and loving clue.
So in your thoughtful future,
Know it really came from you.
That clue was monumental,
It’s from you my strength was found
I give your hand an answering squeeze,
And my world it’s final sound.
You closed my life with joy,
When you chose to call me “Brother.”
Now back to you that universal word.
The antithesis to war . . . it’s “Mother.”
Wash that anguish from your face
And know that this is true.
If the roles had been reversed,
Would I be half the man as you?
I feel myself floating upward now,
A strangers agony my path did pave.
For you my friend have given all.
A comforting journey to my grave.
- NFS, 6/26/10
Jordanian chaplains visit for partnership, cultural understanding
By Army Staff Sgt. Jim Greenhill National Guard BureauWASHINGTON (7/29/10) - When Air Force Gen. Craig McKinley was in Jordan last October furthering the National Guard's State Partnership Program, he was offered an intriguing proposal.
An exchange was proposed that would involve chaplains and imams between Jordan and its National Guard SPP partner since 2004, Colorado. The purpose was to improve their mutual understanding of religious diversity.
The idea bore fruit earlier this month when Colorado and National Guard Bureau chaplains hosted Jordanian military religious leaders here in Washington and in Colorado.
Among them was Brig. Gen. (Chaplain) Talal Mohammad Ali Rabab'h, head of the Islamic law department at Prince Hassan College for Islamic Disciplines onthe military campus of Mu'tah University in Karak, Jordan.
"My role is to teach Islamic values and application to our military personnel to ensure they are being good Muslims and good Soldiers," Ali Rabab'h said, speaking through a Guard Bureau translator. "The role of the Muslim chaplains within the military is to perform daily and routine religious rituals inside the unit and when the need arises, to participate in burial ceremonies, to strengthen Soldiers' ethics, to strengthen military discipline ... and tot each them to protect the civilians."
The State Partnership Program started in 1993, following the collapse of the Iron Curtain. State partnerships foster military-to-military, military-to-civilian and civilian-to-civilian cooperation. There are currently 62 SPP partners.
"They are a marvelous tool for building partnership capacity," McKinley, who is the chief of the National Guard Bureau, said in Amman during his visit to Jordan. "We live in a very multi-polar world in which all countries' values,feelings and cultures should be understood, and it is probably the best program ... for the money in helping the foreign nations who participate ...to gain an understanding of how our military works, the fundamentals of our leadership and our noncommissioned officer corps, which is vital.
"It builds on our State Department and Department of Defense guidelines fortheater-security cooperation through the combatant commanders."
The visit from Jordanian military religious leaders was a typical example ofhow the SPP can advance international understanding.
"This exchange showed the importance our countries assign to the partnership between the U.S. and Jordan," Ali Rabab'h said, "and how we both feel that we can learn from each other and support each other. ... This exchange is the fruition of the trust that has been building between Jordan and Colorado.
"One of the most important lessons that we learned here is the openness ofthe U.S. Army to other cultures and faiths and that this Army strives for excellence and likes to learn from others, and this is something that we very much admire and respect."
The exchange included office calls with National Guard leaders, visits to landmarks, such as the National Cathedral.
"I have been impressed with the role that the National Guard has on the state and the federal level," Ali Rabab'h said. "I have also been very impressed with the role of the Guard within their own communities and the diversity of the community and the chaplains. I was happy to hear about the chaplains within the military - whether they are Muslims, Christian or Jewish.
"I hope that we have such exchanges more often, because this ... shows thatt he U.S. military is interested in learning about the true Islam and Muslims and understands that fundamentalism and terrorism is not a true representation of Islam.
"The prophet said that hearts are touched by kindness, Ali Rabab'h said adding that his heart was touched by his hosts.
By Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Melvin F. Orr III, USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19) Public Affairs
USS BLUE RIDGE, At Sea (NNS) -- Sailors aided in a community relations project in Palau July 28, during a port visit in support of Pacific Partnership 2010.
"I'm honored to be part of the Navy and its humanitarian effort," Operations Specialist 1st Class Angel Aquino, USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19), said. "I can go anywhere in the world and give back to the community. The experience helps me grow as a person and learn about other cultures."
Aquino helped paint several school houses at Ngchesar Elementary with the teachers, children and parents on the island of Babeldaob.
"I had a great time. No matter how many times I volunteer for a COMREL, I always discover something unique and fun about the experience," Aquino said. "I look forward to that one moment when I'm at a school and getting the chance to be silly with children because that's something they don't get to see often."
Aquino joined the Navy in 1994 to escape the gang life in Los Angeles and to protect his family. Military service has taught him compassion for those who are less fortunate.
"You think you have it bad, but then you visit another country and see how difficult their lives are," Aquino said. "That kind of experience humbles you."
Other Blue Ridge Sailors participated in several community service projects around the country including Ngchesar Elementary, Melekeok Elementary, Aimeliik Elementary, Palau High School and Bloody Nose Ridge Monument.
Pacific Partnership is an annual joint effort with host nations, partner nations, nongovernmental charity and service organizations and other U.S. government agencies to provide medical, dental, veterinary and engineering civic action programs.
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