TheList 7016

The List 7016     TGB

To All,

Good Monday morning 25 November. .I hope you all had a great weekend. We got more done here except the Christmas tree is still in storage. Still lots to do here. Got a few doctor appointments next week So the List might be a bit late a few times as the appointments are mostly yearly physicals and follow-ups. Looking forward to Thanksgiving as always.

Make it a GREAT Day

Regards,

Skip

 

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This day in Naval and Marine Corps History (thanks to NHHC)

Here is a link to the NHHC website: https://www.history.navy.mil/.   Go here to see the director's corner for all 84 H-Grams  .

This day in Naval and Marine Corps History

November 25

1943 At the Battle of Cape St. George, Destroyer Squadron 23 intercepts five Japanese destroyers attempting to land reinforcements at Buka on Bougainville. During this night engagement, the Japanese destroyers Onami, Makiname, and Yugiri are sunk.

1943 PB4Y-1 aircraft, piloted by Lt. j.g. Vance Dawkins from VB-107, sinks German submarine U-849 in the South Atlantic west of the Congo estuary.

1943 USS Radford (DD 446) sinks Japanese submarine I-19 north of the Gilbert Islands.

1944 USS Hardhead (SS 365) attacks a Japanese convoy 60 miles west of Manila and sinks Coast Defense Vessel No.38 off Bataan Peninsula while USS Atule (SS 403) sinks Japanese freighter Santos Maru off Sabtang Island, Luzon. Also, USS Mingo (SS 261) sinks Japanese army transport Manila Maru.

1961 USS Enterprise (CVAN 65), the U.S. Navy's first nuclear-powered aircraft carrier, is commissioned in Newport News, Va.

 

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This day in World History 25 November

 

1863 Union ends the siege of Chattanooga with the Battle of Missionary Ridge.

1876 Colonel Ronald MacKenzie destroys Cheyenne Chief Dull Knife's village, in the Bighorn Mountains near the Red Fork of the Powder River, during the so-called Great Sioux War.

1901 Japanese Prince Ito arrives in Russia to seek concessions in Korea.

1914 German Field Marshal Fredrich von Hindenburg calls off the Lodz offensive 40 miles from Warsaw, Poland. The Russians lose 90,000 to the Germans' 35,000 in two weeks of fighting.

1918 Chile and Peru sever relations.

1921 Hirohito becomes regent of Japan.

1923 Transatlantic broadcasting from England to America commences for the first time.

1930 An earthquake in Shizouka, Japan kills 187 people.

1939 Germany reports four British ships sunk in the North Sea, but London denies the claim.

1946 The U.S. Supreme Court grants the Oregon Indians land payment rights from the U.S. government.

1947 The Big Four meet to discuss the German and European economy.

1951 A truce line between U.N. troops and North Korea is mapped out at the peace talks in Panmunjom, Korea.

1955 The Interstate Commerce Commission bans segregation in interstate travel.

1963 The body of assassinated President John F. Kennedy is buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

1964 Eleven nations give a total of $3 billion to rescue the value of the British currency.

1986 As President Ronald Reagan announces the Justice Department's findings concerning the Iran-Contra affair; secretary Fawn Hall smuggles important documents out of Lt. Col. Oliver North's office.

1987 Typhoon Nina sticks the Philippines with 165 mph winds and a devastating storm surge and causes over 1,030 deaths.

1992 Federal Assembly of Czechoslovakia votes to partition the country into the Czech Republic and Slovakia, beginning Jan. 1, 1993.

2008 Sri Lanka is hit by Cyclone Nisha, bringing the highest rainfall the area had seen in 9 decades; 15 people die, 90,000 are left homeless.

2348 Biblical scholars have long asserted this to be the day of the Great Deluge, or Flood.

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Thanks to the Bear. .

OPERATION ROLLING THUNDER ….

. rollingthunderremembered.com .

 

Thanks to Micro

To remind folks that these are from the Vietnam Air Losses site that Micro put together. You click on the url below and get what happened each day to the crew of the aircraft. ……Skip

From Vietnam Air Losses site for Monday November 25  

November 25: https://www.vietnamairlosses.com/loss.php?id=2039

This following work accounts for every fixed wing loss of the Vietnam War and you can use it to read more about the losses in The Bear's Daily account. Even better it allows you to add your updated information to the work to update for history…skip Vietnam Air Losses Access Chris Hobson and Dave Lovelady's work at:  https://www.VietnamAirLosses.com.

 

This is a list of all Helicopter Pilots Who Died in the Vietnam War . Listed by last name and has other info  https://www.vhpa.org/KIA/KIAINDEX.HTM

 

MOAA - Wall of Faces Now Includes Photos of All Service members Killed in the Vietnam War

The site works, find anyone you knew in "search" feature.

 

  https://www.vvmf.org/Wall-of-Faces/ )

 

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Thanks to Shadow….

AFTERMATH

. LONG JOURNEY HOME

I don't remember how many days I spent on Okinawa… I do remember I was doing a lot

of thinking. In a way, I don't even like talking about what was bothering me… because it

involved perhaps the greatest personal integrity failure of my life.

I had gotten engaged just before I'd left for Vietnam… over the next 14 months I knew it

was a mistake. I had written a letter about a month before and indicated that perhaps we

should reconsider… as I had changed a lot over the last year. The only response I

received was the printed, written invitations to the wedding… a coy way of saying… you

can back out if you want… you son of a bitch… but these have already been sent out.

I felt like I was between a rock and a hard place… she was really a wonderful person, as

was her family… but I knew I was no longer in love. To compound things, a girl I'd

dated years before had started writing me and I was really torn inside about what to do or

which one to go to… In the end, I took the cowards way out and married the girl out of a

contorted sense of duty… It lasted but a year. She did everything she could to make it

work… but neither my heart… nor head was in it… I hurt her deeply when I had to tell

her I just didn't love her and we should go our separate ways before we produced

offspring and things got more complicated… I was so terribly wrong to have done it in

the first place. I didn't blame Vietnam for it (she did)… it was my own gutless

stupidity… Just shouldn't have done it to begin with.

On the flight home, I reflected over the last year's events… Beginning with Chu Lai, then

Phu Bai, Dong Ha, Cam Lo, Con Thien, the Rockpile, the cruise, Duc Pho and finally Gia

Linh… It had been a hell of a ride… but then again, as "Black" likes to say… "If it ain't

buckin'… it ain't rodeo"!

There had been a lot of highs and just as many lows… A lot of good men had paid the

ultimate price… many, better men than me. I had seen the best of mankind… and the

worst. I took stock of my personal performance and was satisfied… I had made no

grievous mistakes… committed no cowardly acts… and pretty much did as good as could

be expected… but I still had that nagging feeling that I should have stayed. By the way,

Cuneo tells me I was not alone in this feeling… He said he too would have stayed if

someone had asked… Thank God no one did!

I knew I was coming home to a country that had changed…. We had hints of it from the

FNG's checking in… but I don't really think any of us was ready for the culture shock we

were about to confront. Some of it we looked forward to… as only young men could…

hip huggers, miniskirts, see through blouses. We were coming home to new music, long

hairs, protesters, Haight-Asbury and a nation in conflict with itself. The "Battle Cry"

was… never thrust anyone over thirty… in the Corps we had adopted a similar theme…

never trust anyone over Captain… so at least we were somewhat in step with our civilian

brothers.

In just a year or so later… many of us would be back in college and experiencing "Free

Love" (beat paying for it)… the drug culture… and hippie chicks. Folks, it wasn't just

culture shock… it was a cultural explosion. When I started back to college, like a lot of

vets… I wore my field jacket to class most of the time and I was amazed at the way the

professors were interacting with students as compared to before I went into the military…

some even offered grass… or at least shared it with students on the commons. Some gave

extra credit for folks attending anti-war protests. It was not uncommon to get into knock

down… drag out… arguments with some of these butt-heads… Them spreading bullshit

about the military, etc.

There was some common ground however… I had already developed a mistrust and

antipathy for higher-ranking military men… Admirals, Generals and such… I feel even

more strongly that way today. What I could not abide however was any blanket

condemnation of the men in the military. I would rail at anyone that tried to claim My Lai

was anything other than what it was… a perversion… It was human beings out of

control. I could rationalize us killing people by accident… but I could never accept

people killing other people who were innocent and defenseless on purpose. I personally

thought Calley should have been hung by his balls… until dead… He was nothing but a

fucking mass murderer as far as I was concerned… Still feel that way today.

As time went on, I developed a deep rage and anger at both extremes… I hated the Flag

level military leaders (Admirals and Generals)… who could callously send good and

decent men into harms way… day after day… knowing many would die… without

giving… No… Demanding… that we unleash the dogs of war and fight the damn thing as

stridently and as brutally as possible in order to mitigate casualties on both sides.

I have read enough interviews with the assholes on the Joint Chiefs of Staff from those

days to know… that they knew… we could not possibly win the war in the manner it was

being fought. Yet not one of those self-righteous pricks was willing to risk his career…

(let alone his life, as we were commanded to do) by going public and admitting what we

all knew was true… that the civilian leadership had screwed this thing up from day one.

Not one of these bastards resigned in protest at the carnage being waged upon our best

and brightest… and certainly the most loyal and brave of our generation.

I swear to you this truth… If it were in my power… I would recall to active duty, every

General, Commandant, Admiral and Chairman of the Joint Chief's of Staff from those

days and… PROSECUTE THEM! For malfeasance… and dereliction of duty.

Their betrayal of the American fighting men in Vietnam is unequaled… The death… the

broken families… and lives ruined… that they created by remaining silent… makes the

Colombian Drug Cartel… look like a bunch of amateurs. I'm serious about this. I want

you to think about it too.

What would it have cost one of these bastards to hold a press conference on the Pentagon

steps and say the truth…? "We cannot possibly win this war or bring it to an honorable

conclusion; fighting it the way we've been forced to do by the civilian leadership".

What would it have cost them? Another promotion? Another Star for his collar? Perhaps

an early retirement? I don't know… But I know one thing for certain… IT WOULD NOT

HAVE COST HIM HIS LIFE!…. Like it did so many of our brothers… It would not have

wrecked his family… had his kids grow up without a father… have his parents go to an

early grave… grieving for children lost… before they even reached the prime of their

lives.

I know the military is supposed to be subservient to the civilian government… and I

believe in that concept myself… but that does not mitigate the responsibility as a military

leader… that he has to his own men! I would never suggest rebellion or outright

disloyalty… But the dirty little secret is that they (the Admirals and Generals)…. Did not

have to go and fight… they didn't even have to take part in it… they didn't even have to

stay in the military…because they could simply resign… and quit… If they had done so

in a public fashion… that could have saved countless numbers of lives in the process.

If even one of these pious "Four Star Princes"… had shown even a modicum of the

courage… that I witnessed on a daily basis… from 19 and 20 year olds in Vietnam… The

world would be a better place… and not half the carnage would have been wrought on

our men and their families…. Not to mention the poor Vietnamese… and the three

million Cambodians that were to die… after we bugged out.

I know what I'm trying to say… but reading it, I'm not sure I'm getting it right or cogent.

So I will defer to Col. John Verdi… one of the most brilliant and scary human beings I

have ever known… He put it into words… that which I am not capable of… I want to

share with you something he wrote:

"It is not for the soldier (Marine) to look back in anger toward his brothers killed in

battle.

"Not only do we (as Shakespeare wrote) 'owe God a death; Those of us… who have

taken the soldier's oath… owe our Nation a death as well. St. Augustine explicitly

conceded this… 16 centuries ago. To him who bears the fearful burden of commanding

in battle, the soldier pays equal tribute of respect… and forgiveness; and it is therefore

further not for us to look back in anger on mistakes…we do not know everything the

enemy will do and the enemy… are not going to tell us.

It is civilians… and especially their "assemblies"… who after the fact of defeat of arms

and death of armies… that impeach the commander (or some suitable effigy, should the

commander not survive); Soldiers forgive injury… it goes with the job.

Heady stuff… But Verdi really homes in on the problem as I see it in the next part…

"But St. Augustine also poured his scorn upon an emperor who officiated but did not

govern… and on the false courtiers who filled his false headquarters with "Vanity and

Lies".

Even so do I… in these pages look back in anger… To my brothers untimely slain, not in

battle by the enemy… but by that collective incompetence and indifference of false

careerists who sent them forth with less than the training and equipment they needed…

and could have had… to do the job.

For these dead I cry tears of rage… for to them has been done not just injury (which may

be forgiven)… but INSULT!

"Mortal insult...

And that… may never be forgiven"!

The ironic part of all this… is that John was writing about an incident from the Korean

War… Yet he encapsulated my own feelings about Vietnam…

John never forgave… and the rage never died until he did. He had some rather unique and

dogmatic beliefs… one of which is that citizenship in this great nation should be

earned… rather than preordained as a right… a thought that I initially felt bespoke an

even greater rage than I have known… but I've warmed up to the idea over the years.

Many years ago, I asked a former friend who was convicted of drug smuggling… if all

the money… was worth the risk and the obvious compromising of values? This man

looked me right in the eye and said, "How much were you guys making in Vietnam"?

Not enough… Not enough… Not enough! It never could be enough… There was not

enough money in the world to pay us for what we did… For us it was never the money…

it never could be. It was a belief in an ideal (freedom and democracy) that had been

passed on to us by our father's… members of the greatest generation… And a bond and

brotherhood like no other. We were right then… and in our heart of hearts… we are still

right today! It was not us who failed this nation and the Vietnamese people… it was the

morally corrupt one's in the Pentagon and the beltway that sold us all down the tubes.

By the way… the criminal I speak of… ended up in a "Club Fed"… and lived better than

I ever did the whole time I was an enlisted man in the Corps (he probably got laid more

often too). He came from a very well to do family ("Silver Spoon" pedigree)… Got out

of prison with his pilot's license's intact… and far richer than any of us… American

Justice sucks…

As I related this story to John in his "Days of Rage"… He viewed it as a further

indictment of a society in decline… "What kind of nation treats its' criminals with more

dignity, civility, rights and respect… than its' returning veterans"? It was very easy, when

you consider this, for many of us to remain very bitter after all these years… Yet we both

knew… if the call came today… or tomorrow… our choice would be the same… we

would serve again!

Verdi… In Latin… the truth teller.

I hope this part is not boring you… no blood and guts here… But I've done a lot of

reflecting on this and have a lot more to share…

Tomorrow I want to speak about the civilians… the politicians… and then later how this

has affected all our lives.

More later, Shadow

 

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Monday Morning Thoughts for Thanksgiving

 

Here are some of my perennial favorites…

 

 

The atheist's most embarrassing moment:  When he feels extremely thankful for something, but can't think who to thank for it.

 

 

 

I am thankful:

•             For the wife who says it's hot dogs tonight, because she is home with me, and not out with someone else.

•             For the husband who is on the sofa being a couch potato, because he is home with me and not out at the bars.

•             For the teenager who is complaining about doing dishes because it means she is at home, not on the streets.

•             For the taxes I pay because it means I am employed.

•             For the mess to clean after a party because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

•             For the clothes that fit a little too snug because it means I have enough to eat.

•             For my shadow that watches me work because it means I am out in the sunshine

•             For a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing because it means I have a home.

•             For all the complaining I hear about the government because it means we have freedom of speech..

•             For the parking spot I find at the far end of the parking lot because it means I am capable of walking and I have been blessed with transportation.

•             For my huge heating bill because it means I am warm.

•             For the lady behind me in church who sings off key because it means I can hear.

•             For the pile of laundry and ironing because it means I have clothes to wear.

•             For weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day because it means I have been capable of working hard.

•             For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours because it means I am alive.

•             And finally, for too much e-mail because it means I have friends who are thinking of me.

 

 

 

     "Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.  "Can't you do anything right?"

     Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

     "I saw the car, Dad . Please don't yell at me when I'm driving.." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

     Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts.... dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

     Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

     The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man. Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.

     At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky... he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

     My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.

     Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.

     But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.

     Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

     I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair.

     As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hip bones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

     I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?"

     The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one.. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

     As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"

     "Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy.. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."

     I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.

     I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch... "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.

     Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

     Anger rose inside me.. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!"  Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.

     At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp.. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

     Dad 's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

     It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

     Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years.. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

     Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

     The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life.

     And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."  "I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

     For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter... his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father... and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all, and I had so much to be thankful for.

 

 

 

     In Phoenix, Arizona, a 26-year-old mother stared down at her six year-old son, who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent, she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son's dream to come true.

     She took her son's hand and asked, "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up ? Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life ?"

     "Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up."

     Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come true."

     Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix . She explained her son's final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her six year-old son a ride around the block on a fire engine.

     Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards ! And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat--not a toy one with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots. They're all manufactured right here in Phoenix , so we can get them fast."

     Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Billy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven.

     There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedic's' van, and even the fire chief's car. He was also videotaped for the local news program.

     Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy, that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible.

     One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept--that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital.

     Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a fireman, so she called the fire chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition..  

     The chief replied, "We can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor ? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire? It's the department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room?"

     About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital and extended its ladder up to Billy's third floor open window...16 fire-fighters climbed up the ladder into Billy's room!

     With his mother's permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him.  

     With his dying breath, Billy looked up at the fire chief and said, "Chief, am I really a fireman now?"

     "Billy, you are, and our Head Chief, God, is holding your hand," the chief said.

     With those words, Billy smiled and said, 'I know, He's been holding my hand all day, and

the angels have been singing." The he closed his eyes one last time.

 

 

 

And now for my perennial favorite...

 

Something For Stevie (Author unknown)

 

     I tried not to be biased in hiring a handicapped person, but his placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy.  I had never had a mentally handicapped employee, and I wasn't sure I wanted one.  I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie.  He was short, a little dumpy, and had the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Down syndrome.

     I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meat loaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.

     The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ;" the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with.

     I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.  I shouldn't have worried.  After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.  After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him.

     He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table.  Our only problem was convincing him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished.  He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty.  Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus the dishes and glasses onto a cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag.  If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration.  He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

     Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer.  They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop.  Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks.  Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.

     That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie had missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart.  His social worker said that people with Down syndrome often had heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.

     A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery and doing fine.  Frannie, my head waitress, let out a war whoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news.  Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.  Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.

     He grinned.  "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked.

     "We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay."

     "I was wondering where he was.  I had a new joke to tell him.  What was the surgery about?"

     Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed.  "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said, "but I don't know how he and his mom are going to handle all the bills.  From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is."

     Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables.  Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.

     After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office.  She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand a funny look on her face.

     "What's up?" I asked.

     "I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said.  "This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup," She handed the napkin to me, and three twenty-dollar bills fell onto my desk when I opened it.  On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something for Stevie".

     "Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him about Stevie and his mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this."  She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie" scrawled on its outside.  Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply "truckers."

     That was three months ago.  Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work.  His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday.  He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy.

     I arranged to have his mother bring him to work, met them in the parking lot, and invited them both to celebrate his day back.  Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.

     "Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said.  I took him and his mother by their arms.

     "Work can wait for a minute.  To celebrate your coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me." I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.  I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room.  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession.  We stopped in front of the big table.  Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.

     "First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said.  I tried to sound stern.

     Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins.  It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.  Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it.

     I turned to his mother.  "There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems.  Happy Thanksgiving."

     Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well.  But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.

     Best worker I ever hired.

 

 

I send jokes almost every week in hopes of brightening your week.  For me, it is my way of staying in contact with family, friends, colleagues and the like throughout the year.  Thank you for having been some part of my life.

 

 

Wishing you much for which to be thankful,

Al

 

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Thanks to Rich

Subject: All Hail Rome

 

Hi to all -

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Rome

 

By the third century CE, Rome was having issues.  Their endless wars were draining the treasury, and corruption in the government was rampant.  The few got very rich, everyone else saw their standard of living decline.

 

Along the borders, conflicts were increasing.  The tribes of Europe were in need of land and a means to survive.  Many wanted to unite with Rome, and become part of the great Roman republic.  But Rome rejected these 'barbarians' as lesser people than themselves, and not only ignored their demands, offers of support and needs, but actively opposed them.  In time, the barbarians grew tired of this, and went to war against Rome.  At first, thhis affected only the border areas, and Rome itself was isolated from all the effects, and continued to indulge themselves and ignore all else.  But, after a while, armies of barbarians appeared at the gates of Rome itself.  Rome tried to buy them off, but that has never worked.  It merely whets the appetite of the attackers for more.  In the end, the barbarians overthrew Rome, and it has never again seen its former glory.

 

The US has been riding high in the world for several generations now, and the natives of other lands are getting restless.  They envy our wealth, our peace and prosperity, and they want some for themselves.  We vacillate between ignoring them, and attacking them to keep them in line.  Meanwhile, our rulers indulge their every whim, and pay no attention to the actual problems around them.  The end result will be the same.

 

Fortunately, the US has a core culture that honors values that actually work.  This group is usually quiet, prefering to be left alone and live their own lives.  But, when they are threatened enough, this group rises up and takes back the nation.  It has happened several times, most notably in the civil war.  Looks like we are in another time of awakening, and perhaps we will again overthrow the corrupt class that has desired to take over the nation.  They will not go quietly.  The swamp likes its privilege and power, and money.  They will fight to keep it, no matter how much blood others shed.

 

Ukraine is a great example.  This most corrupt nation in Europe has been used by our own elites for decades for all manner of evil purposes - money laundering, sex trafficking, bioweapons development, perhaps even nuclear weapons research, and also as a pawn to annoy Russia.  Like Napoleon and Hitler, our own leaders just do not comprehend the nature of the Russian people or of the difficulty to control that massive land mass.  In just a few years, we have gone from 'not one inch east' to perhaps having a nuclear exchange.  We will not win such an exchange.

 

We have to hold things together for a few more weeks, and hope the new Trump team can defuse this mess.  Be alert, check six, and stay frosty.

 

Rich

 

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The Battle of Tarawa

(Nov. 17, 2023) The Battle of Tarawa occurred over the four-day period of Nov. 20-23, 1943 as the result of the first U.S. naval offensive in the Central Pacific Ocean. It also marked the first time that U.S. Marines faced heavy Japanese resistance to an amphibious landing.

In early 1943, Gen. Douglas MacArthur and his Southwest Pacific Area forces were pushing northwest from New Guinea-New Britain toward the Philippines. The U.S. high command realized, however, that another front had to be opened, first, to mount a successful invasion of the Japanese homeland, and second, to prevent another attack against the Hawaiian Islands.

The new front would be located in the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean known as Micronesia ("many islands"). Although the six-month fighting in Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands had been a defeat for the enemy, the Japanese fleet was no longer tied down and could roam freely.

Japan still controlled a wide swath of the Pacific, including the Micronesian island groups known as the Gilberts, Marshalls, Carolines, and Marianas. The Gilberts and Marshalls lay roughly 2,400 miles southwest of the Hawaiian Islands and 1,000 miles to the southeast of the Carolines. To the north of the Carolines were the Marianas, including Saipan and Tinian, which were not to be taken until June 1944 after fierce fighting.

The main Japanese fleet was based at Truk in the Carolines. The Japanese had also constructed a series of air bases on smaller islands throughout the area. Any further allied amphibious operations from the Philippines toward Japan would be subject to enemy naval attack from those islands. Moreover, allied aerial support for an invasion ultimately to be made against the Japanese homeland would require land bases.

Adm. Chester Nimitz, head of the Central Pacific Force (later called the "Fifth Fleet"), designated his chief of staff, Rear Adm. Raymond Spruance, to begin the planning. Because the Marshalls were heavily defended, the more vulnerable Gilberts located to the south were chosen as the first target.

They would also prepare the relatively inexperienced Marines for the tougher battles ahead, and once taken, they could provide air bases and fleet anchorages for the invasion of the Marshalls. Reconnoitering of Tarawa began a year in advance of the contemplated invasion with aerial and submarine photography, which later proved to be inadequate. The Japanese had anticipated the attack and, with the help of forced Korean labor, had been preparing the island's defenses for over a year.

The Gilberts consisted of 13 to 16 atolls spread out over an area as large as Texas, with the largest being Tarawa. They were discovered by the Portuguese in 1606 and later named in 1788 after Thomas Gilbert, the master of an East Indiaman, which was a large sailing vessel of that era.

Until December 1941 when they were seized by the Japanese, the Gilberts had been under the control of Great Britain. Some 50 years earlier, Robert Louis Stevenson had resided there and described them in his book "In the South Seas."

In November 1943, "Operation Galvanic" commenced and was commanded by newly promoted Vice Adm. Spruance aboard his flagship, the heavy cruiser Indianapolis.

According to naval doctrine, a flagship must be fast enough to keep pace with the aircraft carriers of the fleet. It must be able to operate without escorts. It must be powerful enough to defend itself, travel long distances without refueling, and have ample communications.

A brand-new battleship would have fit the bill, but Spruance also knew that a flagship must get close enough to an enemy island in order to view the landings, thus making it susceptible to enemy gunfire and therefore expendable. The U.S. Navy could not afford to lose a battleship in battle, so Spruance chose the 12-year-old Indianapolis as his flagship (My father was a naval aviator aboard at the time and also a good card player. Adm. Spruance occasionally invited him to his bridge table, but I digress.)

Betio Island on the southwest corner of the atoll was the targeted invasion point at Tarawa because it had a finished airstrip. Lying 80 miles north of the Equator, it comprised 290 acres and was two miles long and a half-mile wide.

A week of heavy naval gunfire and aerial bombardment proved largely ineffective. The Marines landed, and Betio became the scene of ferocious fighting over the four-day period. Col. David M. Shoup oversaw the landings and, for his bravery, was later awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. In 1960, he became the 22nd Commandant of the U.S. Marine Corps. Marine Lt. Alexander Bonnyman, Jr., was killed on Tarawa and was posthumously awarded a Congressional Medal of Honor in 1947 for his bravery.

Samuel Eliot Morison in Volume VII of his "History of United States Naval Operations in World War II" stated that when the 76-hour battle had concluded 4,700 Japanese soldiers were dead, while U.S. deaths totaled 1,001 and those wounded in action totaled 2,101.

Another commentator wrote that as many Marines were killed-in-action during the 76 hours of Tarawa as were killed over a six-month period on Guadalcanal the year before. Because the casualties were so high, some uninformed critics likened the landing on Tarawa to the Charge of the Light Brigade in the 1854 Crimean War, but they failed to recognize the strategic importance of capturing the Gilberts before the Marshalls.

Why were the casualties so high? First, as expected, the Japanese fought to the death; few surrendered. Second, the island had the most heavily fortified defenses yet encountered in the war. Enemy gun positions were no more than 300 yards from the landing beach. The Marines were pinned down for hours. Yard for yard, it was said that the resistance proved to be heavier than that encountered on Iwo Jima in 1945.

Third, massive U.S. bombardment preceding the landing had proven largely ineffective because the enemy was so well dug-in with pillboxes, bunkers, trenches, barbed wire, coconut log walls, and bombproof shelters. Close-range naval gunfire was also ineffective because of its trajectory over a low-lying, flat island.

Fourth, heavy sea turbulence delayed the transfer of Marines from the offshore ships to the landing craft, allowing Japanese gunners on the island to fire on them. Fifth, there were no tide tables for Betio, and unexpectedly low tides and sharp coral on the sea bottom hampered the first landings, leaving the already too few amphtrac landing craft exposed to enemy gunfire.

Many Marines had to wade ashore through chest-deep water. Portable radios became inoperative. Other Marines left their landing craft too soon and drowned in deeper water.

My father, LTJG Grade W. Newton Jackson Jr., aboard the Indianapolis played a peripheral role in the battle. His mission was to fly over Betio and locate Japanese troops and gun emplacements. His single-engine Kingfisher float plane would be catapulted off the Indianapolis to begin each flight.

Once completed, he would land next to the ship and be lifted up by a crane for debriefing and refueling. One day, after his last reconnaissance flight, he took off his parachute pack and found a Japanese bullet in it. He was not even aware that the enemy had shot at his plane. My mother later put the smashed bullet on a charm bracelet.

 

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This Day in U S Military History…..November 25

1758 – In the French and Indian War, the British captured Fort Duquesne in present-day Pittsburgh. On November 24, the French commander recognized that he faced total disaster if he were to resist. Under the cover of night, the French withdrew from Fort Duquesne, set it afire and floated down the Ohio River to safety. The British claimed the smoldering remains on November 25 and were horrified to finds the heads of some of Grant's Highlanders impaled on stakes with their kilts displayed below.

1783 – Nearly three months after the Treaty of Paris was signed ending the American Revolution, the last British soldiers withdraw from New York City, their last military position in the United States. After the last Red Coat departed New York, Patriot General George Washington entered the city in triumph to the cheers of New Yorkers. The city was captured by the British in September 1776 and remained in their hands until 1783. Four months after New York was returned to the victorious Patriots, the city was declared to be the capital of the United States. It was the site in 1789 of Washington's inauguration as the first U.S. president and remained the nation's capital until 1790, when Philadelphia became the second capital of the United States under the U.S. Constitution.

1863 – Union General Ulysses S. Grant breaks the siege of Chattanooga, Tennessee, in stunning fashion by routing the Confederates under General Braxton Bragg at Missionary Ridge. For two months since the Battle of Chattanooga, the Confederates had kept the Union army bottled up inside of a tight semicircle around Chattanooga. When Grant arrived in October, however, he immediately reversed the defensive posture of his army. After opening a supply line by driving the Confederates away from the Tennessee River in late October, Grant prepared for a major offensive in late November. It was launched on November 23 when Grant sent General George Thomas to probe the center of the Confederate line. Stunningly, this simple plan turned into a complete victory, and the Rebels retreated higher up Missionary Ridge. On November 24, the Yankees captured Lookout Mountain on the extreme right of the Union lines, and this set the stage for the Battle of Missionary Ridge.The attack took place in three parts. On the Union left, General William T. Sherman attacked troops under Patrick Cleburne at Tunnel Hill, an extension of Missionary Ridge. In difficult fighting, Cleburne managed to hold the hill. On the other end of the Union lines, General Joseph Hooker was advancing slowly from Lookout Mountain, and his force had little impact on the battle. It was at the center that the Union achieved its greatest success. The soldiers on both sides received confusing orders. Some Union troops thought they were only supposed to take the rifle pits at the base of the ridge, while others understood that they were to advance to the top. Some of the Confederates heard that they were to hold the pits, while others thought that they were to retreat to the top of Missionary Ridge. Furthermore, poor placement of Confederate trenches on the top of the ridge made it difficult to fire at the advancing Union troops without hitting their own men, who were retreating from the rifle pits. The result was that the attack on the Confederate center turned into a major Union victory. After the center collapsed, the Confederate troops retreated on November 26, and Bragg pulled his troops away from Chattanooga. He resigned shortly thereafter, having lost the confidence of his army. The Confederates suffered 6,687 men killed, wounded, and missing, and the Union lost 5,824. Grant missed an opportunity to destroy the Confederate army when he chose not to pursue the retreating Rebels, but Chattanooga was secured. Sherman resumed the attack in the spring after Grant was promoted to general in chief of all Federal forces.

1867 – Alfred Nobel patented dynamite. In 1863, Swedish industrialist Alfred Nobel invented the Nobel patent detonator (later used with dynamite) which detonated nitroglycerin (invented by Italian chemist Ascanio Sobrero in 1846) using a strong shock rather than heat combustion. In 1865, the Nobel Company built the first factory for producing nitroglycerin and later dynamite. Nitroglycerin in its natural liquid state is very volatile. Albert Nobel recognized this, and in 1866 he discovered that mixing nitroglycerine with silica would turn the liquid into a malleable paste (dynamite), which could be cylinder shaped for insertion into the drilling holes used for mining. In 1867, Albert Nobel patented this material under the name of dynamite – U.S. patent 78,317. To be able to detonate the dynamite rods he also invented a detonator or blasting cap that was ignited by lighting a fuse.

1940 – First flight of the Martin B-26 Marauder. The Martin B-26 Marauder was a World War II twin-engined medium bomber built by the Glenn L. Martin Company. First used in the Pacific Theater in early 1942, it was also used in the Mediterranean Theater and in Western Europe. After entering service with the U.S. Army, the aircraft received the reputation of a "Widowmaker" due to the early models' high rate of accidents during takeoff and landings. The Marauder had to be flown at exact airspeeds, particularly on final runway approach and when one engine was out. The 150 mph (241 km/h) speed on short final runway approach was intimidating to pilots who were used to much slower speeds, and whenever they slowed down below what the manual stated, the aircraft would stall and crash. The B-26 became a safer aircraft once crews were re-trained, and after aerodynamics modifications (an increase of wingspan and wing angle-of-incidence to give better takeoff performance, and a larger vertical stabilizer and rudder). After aerodynamic and design changes, the aircraft distinguished itself as "the chief bombardment weapon on the Western Front" according to a United States Army Air Forces dispatch from 1946. The Marauder ended World War II with the lowest loss rate of any USAAF bomber. A total of 5,288 were produced between February 1941 and March 1945; 522 of these were flown by the Royal Air Force and the South African Air Force. By the time the United States Air Force was created as an independent service separate from the Army in 1947, all Martin B-26s had been retired from US service. The Douglas A-26 Invader then assumed the B-26 designation — before officially returning to the earlier "A for Attack" designation in May 1966.

1941 – Adm. Harold R. Stark, U.S. chief of naval operations, tells Adm. Husband E. Kimmel, commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor, that both President Roosevelt and Secretary of State Cordell Hull think a Japanese surprise attack is a distinct possibility. "We are likely to be attacked next Monday, for the Japs are notorious for attacking without warning," Roosevelt had informed his Cabinet. "We must all prepare for trouble, possibly soon," he telegraphed British Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Kimmel's command was specifically at the mid-Pacific base at Oahu, which comprised, in part, Pearl Harbor. At the time he received the "warning" from Stark, he was negotiating with Army Lt. Gen. Walter C. Short, commander of all U.S. forces at Pearl Harbor, about sending U.S. warships out from Pearl Harbor in order to reinforce Wake and Midway Islands, which, along with the Philippines, were possible Japanese targets. But the Army had no antiaircraft artillery to spare. War worries had struck because of an intercepted Japanese diplomatic message, which gave November 25 as a deadline of sorts. If Japanese diplomacy had failed to convince the Americans to revoke the economic sanctions against Japan, "things will automatically begin to happen," the message related. Those "things" were becoming obvious, in the form of Japanese troop movements off Formosa (Taiwan) apparently toward Malaya. In fact, they were headed for Pearl Harbor, as was the Japanese First Air Fleet. Despite the fact that so many in positions of command anticipated a Japanese attack, especially given the failure of diplomacy (Japan refused U.S. demands to withdraw from both the Axis pact and occupied territories in China and Indochina), no one expected Hawaii as the target.

2001 – Qala-i-Jangi revolt. Taliban fighters were being herded, as captured or surrendered, into the Qala-i-Jangi fortress near Mazar-I-Sharif, a few Taliban attacked some Northern Alliance guards, taking their weapons and opening fire. This incident soon triggered a widespread revolt by 300 prisoners, who soon seized the southern half of the complex, once a medieval fortress, including an armory stocked with small arms and crew-served weapons. One American CIA operative who had been interrogating prisoners, Johnny Michael Spann, was killed, marking the first American combat death in the war. The revolt was finally put down after seven days of heavy fighting. AC-130 gunships and other aircraft took part providing strafing fire on several occasions, as well as a bombing airstrikes. 86 of the Taliban prisoners survived, and around 50 Northern Alliance soldiers were killed. The quashing of the revolt marked the end of the combat in northern Afghanistan, where local Northern Alliance warlords were now firmly in control.

 

Medal of Honor Citations for Actions Taken This Day

 

REED, AXEL H.

Rank and organization: Sergeant, Company K, 2d Minnesota Infantry. Place and date: At Chickamauga, Ga., 19 September 1863; At Missionary Ridge, Tenn., 25 November 1863. Entered service at: Glencoe, Minn. Birth: Maine. Date of issue: 2 April 1898. Citation: While in arrest at Chickamauga, Ga., left his place in the rear and voluntarily went to the line of battle, secured a rifle, and fought gallantly during the 2_day battle; was released from arrest in recognition of his bravery. At Missionary Ridge commanded his company and gallantly led it, being among the first to enter the enemy's works; was severely wounded, losing an arm, but declined a discharge and remained in active service to the end of the war.

 

SCHMIDT, WILLIAM

Rank and organization: Private, Company G, 37th Ohio Infantry. Place and date: At Missionary Ridge, Tenn., 25 November 1863. Entered service at: Maumee, Ohio. Birth: Tiffin, Ohio. Date of issue: 9 November 1895. Citation. Rescued a wounded comrade under terrific fire.

 

SHALER, ALEXANDER

Rank and organization: Colonel, 65th New York Infantry. Place and date: At Marye's Heights, Va., 3 May 1863. Entered service at: New York, N.Y. Born: 19 March 1827, Haddam, Conn. Date of issue 25 November 1893. Citation: At a most critical moment, the head of the charging column being about to be crushed by the severe fire of the enemy's artillery and infantry, he pushed forward with a supporting column, pierced the enemy's works, and turned their flank.

 

WALKER, JAMES C.

Rank and organization: Private, Company K, 31st Ohio Infantry. Place and date: At Missionary Ridge, Tenn., 25 November 1863. Entered service at: Springfield, Ohio. Birth: Clark County, Ohio. Date of issue: 25 November 1895. Citation: After 2 color bearers had fallen, seized the flag and carried it forward, assisting in the capture of a battery. Shortly thereafter he captured the flag of the 41st Alabama and the color bearer.

 

FORSYTH, THOMAS H.

Rank and organization: First Sergeant, Company M, 4th U.S. Cavalry. Place and date: At Powder River, Wyo., 25 November 1876. Entered service at:——. Birth: Hartford, Conn. Date of issue: 14 July 1891. Citation: Though dangerously wounded, he maintained his ground with a small party against a largely superior force after his commanding officer had been shot down during a sudden attack and rescued that officer and a comrade from the enemy.

 

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AMERICAN AEROSPACE EVENTS for November 25,  FIRSTS, LASTS, AND SIGNIFICANT ACCOMPLISHMENTS. THANKS TO HAROLD "PHIL" MYERS CHIEF HISTORIAN AIR FORCE INTELLIGENCE, SURVEILLANCE, AND RECONNAISSANCE AGENCY

 

25 November

1918: The NC-1 flying boat set a world record by taking off from NAS Rockaway Beach, New York, with 51 persons. (24)

1920: Lt Corliss C. Moseley flew a Verville-Packard 600 132 miles at 156.54 MPH to win the first Pulitzer Race at Mitchel Field. Moseley later founded Western Air Express (later Western Airlines) to carry airmail. (24)

1940: NACA announced plans to build an $8.4 million engine research laboratory at the Cleveland Municipal Airport in Ohio. It became the Lewis Research Center. (8: Nov 90) First flight of the Martin B-26 Marauder.

1943: P-47 Thunderbolts from VIII Fighter Command inaugurated bombing in an attack on Saint-Omer Airfield, France. (4) From bases in China, B-25s, P-38s, and P-51s completed the first Fourteenth Air Force mission against Formosa. (24)

1945: Through 30 November, Col Joseph Holzapple flew a Douglas A-26 Invader around the world in 96 hours 50 minutes of flying time. His crew included Lt Col Charles R. Meyers (co-pilot), Lt Otto H. Schumacher (navigator), and Cpl Howard J Walden (radio operator). They headed westward from Savannah, Ga. Four days and 24,859 miles later, they returned to Washington DC after successfully circumnavigating the earth, thus demonstrating the ability of US light bombers to reach any point in the world quickly. (5) (http://www.wingnet.org/rtw/rtw013.htm)

1956: TSgt Richard J. Patton made the first successful polar parachute jump when he bailed out of a C-124 Globemaster from 1,500 feet at the South Pole. (24)

1957: SAC phased out its KB-29 tankers by transferrring the last two KB-29s from the 27 AREFW at Bergstrom AFB to the aircraft storage area at Davis-Monthan AFB. (1)

1970: Bill Dana flew the M2-F3 Lifting Body on its first powered flight at Edwards AFB. (3)

1980: Through 29 November, MAC units delivered 1,305 tons of fire retardant chemicals to battle 11 major fires in four counties east of Los Angeles. (16) (26) The 26th Tactical Fighter Training Aggressor Squadron flew its final T-38 Talon sortie. The ATC replaced the squadron's four Talons with F-5E and F-5F aircraft. (26)

 

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