We Are the Ones Who Do Not Matter ....

... because nobody cares about us. We who wear DCUs instead of multi-cams. They don't even think that, maybe they should ... at least ...  ask if we served. Because we did. We do.

We are the ones who
tell you that your parent died, and your sibling is in the ICU dying from a deadly motorcycle accident, and your child is sick, and your wife was assaulted while you are away.

We are the ones who go out to the C-17s  and carry you off the planes on litters so heavy with machines that it takes 8 of us to lift you.
We are the ones who deliver you to the ICU and then go back and hold your hand while you quietly die.
We are the ones who tell you that everything will be okay, even though you have no legs or no arms.
We are the ones to whom you say "I'm sorry" because you are embarrassed that your whole face is a scab.

We are the ones who do not know what to do with what we know.

60 to 60 Ruck to Remember - Memorial Day 2012

This story touched my heart so deeply that I can not help but come out of literary seclusion to share it.  My brother Stephen works with a man, a former Marine, who, along with 23 others, set out on a grueling journey to honor our Nation's Fallen Warriors. Their mission: to ruck march 60 miles carrying 60 pounds, from Harper's Ferry to Arlington National Cemetery's Section 60 - in 36 hours! The following, posted with permission, is Brandt (B.J.) Hall's chronicle of the journey.

As most of you are aware, this past Memorial Day, I participated in a challenge created with the intention of honoring fallen service men and women.  This challenge was planned through S.E.R.E. Performance, an organization that hosts different events to support the Special Operations Warrior Foundation.  Our group was 24 members strong (including 5 S.E.R.E. personnel), and composed of active duty, veterans and civilians, ranging in age from 17 to 44 years old.  Our mission: trek from Harpers Ferry West Virginia to Arlington National Cemetery. We were to do this without sleep, minimal breaks, and carrying weighted rucks (backpacks to most of you).  Amazingly, 75% of our group had 60+ pounds packed in their rucks.

Be It Ever So Humble ...

...there's no place like home

Now, mind you, home is always what we make it ... and this one will be no exception. It will have some challenges: size, cleanliness, darkness.  The building, the newest of the field grade officer BOQs, looks spartan and comfortable enough on the outside.  Inside is another story. It is instantly apparent that the common areas are not cleaned but once in a very ... very ... long while.  I use my elbow to open the glass entry doors, and will never walk along the hallways in socks or bare feet.

My 'apartment' is on the second floor, really just to the rear of the center part of the photo above.  The view is un-spectacular, but I think I can leave the curtains open without fear of voyeur activity. *lol* One laundry room services all four floors; it sits on the third floor and has about 8 sets of washers and dryers - several of which are currently broken. The good news is that they are free and I won't have to keep myself supplied in quarters. It could use a deep scrub down, and one day I may just tackle that job myself!

The building is also located within walking distance to everything: PX, commissary, Post Office, movie theater, Chili's, my work, and ... coffee!! In fact, sitting by the window at Rickebacker's, which is located in the hotel called Turumi Lodge, I can see my building.  I suspect it, and/or Starbuck's, will be my first stop on my way to work each morning.

I can already see that, once I get accustomed to breathing water laced with oxygen (having become used to Colorado's dry and oxygen free air), I'll be in extremely good shape inside of 6 months. Walking everywhere will do that easily.  I am told that one can even walk out the main gate and into the ville of Songtan anytime.  Can't wait to do that.

So, apparently, I landed in Korea on the first day of monsoon season; it has rained constantly since then, and I am told that a typhoon may arrive this weekend. Lovely. Fortunately, I have lived in North Carolina, so the winds and lashing rains won't be a surprise.  Walking to work in the storm - well, I'll report on that afterwards!

My 'apartment', although small and filled with temporary "modular" furniture, will become comfortable once my belongings arrive in July.  It has two small windows, one in each room. I'll need to use many lamps to brighten it up; fortunately, I packed several from home.  While in Bellingham, I visited my friend Rebecca, and where I bought two of her stained glass pieces. You can see one in the photo at left. The other is in the bedroom window.

I need to figure out how to make it warmer, however. The a/c is controlled by someone, somewhere, somehow, and blows incessantly ... cold ... loud.  I actually need a jacket while in my rooms, and am looking forward to the arrival of my down comforter!

Walking into the fromt door, on the immediate right is the bathroom, tiled and with two huge mirrors. It currently has a 40 watt bulb in the ceiling ... must work on that.  Next to the bathroom is the bedroom.  I can see that once my queen sleigh bed arrives, it will be the one and only item in the room.  The closet is a separate walk-in room. Nice. The kitchen is just to the left as I walk into the 'apartment'. It's almost a full kitchen, and one in which I can spend many happy hours cooking. I suspect I'll make lots of friends since I'll need willing gamblers to consume what comes out of the oven!

        






I remember, from my last tour in Korea, that the civic bonds between Korea and the United States remain quite strong.  Older Koreans, contrary to much of the rest of the world, have not forgotten the reason for their current freedoms.  One can find monuments to the sacrifices of Americans in most, if not all, Korean cities.  Here is no exception.

Just outside the Turumi Lodge, is a new memorial to all Air Force personnel killed in the line of duty during the Korean War.  It's a very striking structure ... but the other pieces are even more moving. Behind the two "flights" are several  display cases containing graphics of the patches of each squadron that served here during the war.

But the most beautiful piece of this memorial stands just to the left of it on a pedestal.  It is a book, made of metal pages. On each page is engraved the names of every airman who was killed in action during the Korean war. It's beautiful and stands as a permanent reminder that Freedom is most definitely not Free!

If you would like me to find someone you may know in this book, let me know and I'll gladly take a photo of the name for you.

And, just in case we forget that the Korean peninsula is still in a dangerous and volatile situation, we have these reminders posted in each of our rooms:

                    

The Gifts of Deer and Elk

I love our Soldiers. Their courage never ceases to humble me, and their kindness sometimes brings me to tears.  They have this uncanny ability to know when someone is feeling, as my friend Leta says, "down-town" - and then step up to try to make everything just a wee bit better. Never mind that they know down-town very well, themselves ...

Now, I pride myself on being able to weather every storm and never let 'em see me sweat. Or so I thought.

One day, not too long after I returned from Afghanistan, one of our Soldiers dropped by to say hello, mysteriously bearing a cooler.  He said he was in attendance at an event where I had recently made my rounds, smiling, hugging and greeting long lost friends. He had just gone hunting and since he knew I liked wild game, he wanted to share some of his elk with me!  He said I looked sad and needed something special. What a precious gift ... and let me just say that I've never had better!!

Not a month later, just after I learned of the death of my dad, another Soldier came by to visit, said he had been hunting and since I was so nice would I like some of his venison! Would I!? He returned a few days later with steaks, ground, and cutlets ... an unbelievable cache of deer meat.  He was so proud of his hunting success and still asks me if I want any more!

So, as I sort through my house, I make my way to the kitchen, open the freezer and ... aaack ... it's full of meat.  I smile, touch each package, think of the Soldiers who gifted me with their conquests ... and realize how lucky I have been to have made so many very special friends here.

Now, what to make for dinner .......

May Day: For Something Completely Different

The story behind May Day, like most contemporary noteworthy 'holidays', begins in pagan times, when May 1st was marked as the first day of summer; which, in turn, allowed for the Solstice on June 21st. It marks the end of the winter half of the year in the northern hemisphere, and typically began with a festival. 

In pre-Christian times, the Roman goddess of flowers, Flora, served as the centerpiece of the celebration called the Floralia, which included chariot-races and licentious theatrical performances. This was a time of renewal and "pollination". Re-birth was the central theme, which carried itself into the most raucous behavior one can imagine.  It was even considered to be a high holy day for prostitutes!

Throughout most of northern Europe, Walpurgisnacht (Walpurgis Night) was celebrated through dancing and bonfires. The celebration was named after St. Walpurga, a Saxon princess who was beatified on May 1st, coincidentally the same time asViking fertility celebrations, which also included nightly bonfires.  Over the years, as the Vikings rampaged through Europe, the two events merged into Walpurganacht.

Walpurgisnacht in Heidelberg, Germany

 Some regional areas adopted the rite of burning witches in effigy; however, most have perpetuated the folklore that Walpurgis Night is a night when witches gather around fire in a celebration of Renewal.

In Germania, it is said that the witches celebrate on the Brocken, the highest mountain in the Harz Mountains in northern Germany, to await the arrival of Spring. In fact, during the 15th and 16th centuries, German literature described this event as the Witches' Sabbath.

Today, of course, the day is mostly meaningless to western culture, culminating in overnight pranks on one's neighbors, bringing flowers to a friend, or celebrating the rise of the worker in socialist societies.

As for me ... where IS that stack of wood I was saving ....

Maybe It's Time for a Break

As I drove through the gate, and passed by the staging yard, I had to navigate my way around a multitude of trucks, all carrying several huge conex containers., and all forming into a convoy.  After a moment of confusion, I suddenly realized that this convoy contained the equipment and belongings of the next brigade preparing to deploy.

For some inexplicable reason, I suddenly began to tear up. That was a first for me and, as I continued to drive towards my building, the tears wouldn't stop. All I could think about was what awaited these soldiers at their destination.

I had just recently spent three days with these very same soldiers ... so many young ones with an empty right shoulder, eager to go and follow in the footsteps of their battle buddies. I thought of the men they would become, hardend by what they would experience, and disillusioned when reality would refuse to meet fantasy.

And I cried, because the softness in me wanted to protect them all, and the knowledge that no one could, was too great a burden to hold.  And my heart was heavy.

At that moment, I wondered if it might be time for me to rest. I wondered if a time away from the madness might be best.  I wondered if a complete change of scenery and perspective might rejuvenate my soul. Maybe a time in Korea is just what it really needs. Maybe.

...and then life throws ya a curve ball ...

I didn't even get my bags unpacked from my first trip to California, when I get a call from a brother that my mother has fallen and opened her forehead. Oh crap.  Do I need to turn around and go back to California? No, not yet ... she'll be in the hospital a week; wait till she gets out. Okay. Breathe ...

That was Sunday. On Monday, I get THE phone call.  It's headquarters.  My heart sinks. Yep ... I came up on orders! The timing was simply exquisite. What to do ... if I decline, I run the risk of a mandatory resignation or, at the very least, a deferral that requires acceptance of the next available duty location. Could be anywhere ... Adak, Alaska? Diego Garcia? Antarctica? Well, we have no stations there, but you get my drift.

I can put them on hold ... I have a week.  Which is good because now I have to fly back to California to pack up as many of my mother's clothes and chachkas that will fit into a 750 square foot apartment - assisted living from now on. Eight days later, after eight nights of wrapping treasures and schlepping boxes up and down stairs for 6 hours a night, and after three awesome brothers convince me to accept .... I call headquarters and "agree" to go.  To Korea! In June! For three years!

I don't know how I feel about it yet.  I have mixed feelings.  Not being in a place where I can still work in the field of my passion (wounded warriors) is balanced by the thought that, when I return, I will be completely debt free ... to include my truck.  But then, really ... it doesn't matter what I feel because I don't much cotton to resigning ... yet.

Three options of work that would keep me in my field of passion are on hold ... hiring freeze, budget arguments, political jockeying, all of the above ... ?


*Sigh*  In any case, I need to put on my big girl pants and better stop whining and start sorting.

여보세요 한국!