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  • AND NOW IT BEGINS...
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  • He did it!
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  • A New Golden Age
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  • EASTER 2025 - THE RESET
  • Easter - The Resurrection
  • THE MUSTANG WILL LIVE ...
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  • More
    • Home
    • About us...
    • CONTACT
    • Dr. Daw's Bio
    • Military and clinical
    • Tactical
    • ANNOUNCEMENT
    • OBSERVATIONS
    • REFLECTIONS
    • REFLECTIONS II
    • REFLECTIONS III
    • 2024
    • AND NOW IT BEGINS...
    • The Battlefield
    • LOOMING ON THE HORIZON
    • THE LEAST QUALIFIED
    • Easter 2024
    • The Second Lady
    • LAWFARE
    • Talladega
    • IS PATRIOTISM DEAD?
    • Memorial Day 2024
    • The Presidential Debate
    • The Fallen Five
    • FRANCE-TIP OF THE SPEAR
    • THERE ARE COWARDS...
    • FATHER & DAUGHTER...
    • ABBEY GATE
    • MEAN TWEETS, WORLD PEACE
    • MILITARY INSULTS...
    • DIPHTHONGS AND PRINCETON
    • Thank you, Israel...
    • He did it!
    • THANKSGIVING 2024
    • THE NEW PARADIGM
    • 2025 - ARE YOU READY?
    • A New Golden Age
    • Christmas every day...
    • MANIFEST DESTINY 2.0
    • EASTER 2025
    • EASTER 2025 - THE RESET
    • Easter - The Resurrection
    • THE MUSTANG WILL LIVE ...
    • Secdef - RIF for REMF's
  • Home
  • About us...
  • CONTACT
  • Dr. Daw's Bio
  • Military and clinical
  • Tactical
  • ANNOUNCEMENT
  • OBSERVATIONS
  • REFLECTIONS
  • REFLECTIONS II
  • REFLECTIONS III
  • 2024
  • AND NOW IT BEGINS...
  • The Battlefield
  • LOOMING ON THE HORIZON
  • THE LEAST QUALIFIED
  • Easter 2024
  • The Second Lady
  • LAWFARE
  • Talladega
  • IS PATRIOTISM DEAD?
  • Memorial Day 2024
  • The Presidential Debate
  • The Fallen Five
  • FRANCE-TIP OF THE SPEAR
  • THERE ARE COWARDS...
  • FATHER & DAUGHTER...
  • ABBEY GATE
  • MEAN TWEETS, WORLD PEACE
  • MILITARY INSULTS...
  • DIPHTHONGS AND PRINCETON
  • Thank you, Israel...
  • He did it!
  • THANKSGIVING 2024
  • THE NEW PARADIGM
  • 2025 - ARE YOU READY?
  • A New Golden Age
  • Christmas every day...
  • MANIFEST DESTINY 2.0
  • EASTER 2025
  • EASTER 2025 - THE RESET
  • Easter - The Resurrection
  • THE MUSTANG WILL LIVE ...
  • Secdef - RIF for REMF's

THE 2024 ELECTION

15 January 2024 - And now it begins. The election of a lifetime is at hand.

I am admiring the resilience of Iowans in the face of these arctic temperatures.  As I was checking caucus news yesterday, the Fox reporter showed a temperature of negative 8 degrees.  The wind, or course, dictates it's colder: negative 34 degrees.  For a brief moment, a cold chill ran across me as I can still vividly remember, as I hit the sack while stationed at Camp Casey, hoping for such temperatures. Crazy, you say.  Perhaps; but if the wind chill fell to negative 20 degrees, or if it was raining, PT at 0515 hours would be cancelled. An extra hour in the sack - what a luxury.  With that PT formation requiring the Daily Dozen exercises, followed by a two-mile run, time didn't allow me to grab breakfast in the mess hall.  (I hated missing out on one of my favorite breakfast items, "S.O.S.". My father's S.O.S., incidentally, was the best. Loving this culinary item since I was a little boy, I have extensive experience with the various mess hall renditions devoured at Fort Reilly, Fort Benning, Fort Jackson as well as field deployments in France, Germany and the Republic of Korea.)  In lieu of a big delicious breakfast, I hurriedly showered and ran the couple of miles or so to the dental clinic where I started seeing patients at 0800 hours.  My rank wasn't sufficient to have a dedicated driver at my disposal and, delightfully, I was billeted in a Quonset hut at the MTF (medical treatment facility), where every other soldier was billeted. My duty station, the dental clinic, however, was 4 clicks away!


As if adding salt to my wound on a daily basis was the fact the Camp Casey Dental Clinic was staffed by four other dental officers who were attached to the Second ID clinic.  Not assigned to the Division.  As a consequence, they were not required in PT formations at 0515 hours Monday thru Friday (!).  Further, they were in Yongsan one Wednesday a month for "training"; they didn't see patients.  (I was later attached to the 10 Medical Detachment (DS), Yongsan, in order to get their dental staff up to speed for field deployment:  the new DEFCON designation on the Korean Peninsula required significant increases in tactical dental teams.)


My living quarters in Yongsan were exponentially better than those provided by the Quonset hut.  Best of all, no PT! 


Attachment to the Tenth Medical Detachment provided a great perk:  a BOQ with air conditioning and a wonderful  Ajumma who did the five officers' laundry and cleaning.  If desired, she would cook for us; she was an amazing cook. Her yaki mandu (pot stickers) were the first and the best I have ever eaten.  She was delightful and, although she could not speak very much English, she would take time to teach me Hanguk-mal.  


At Camp Casey there was not much off-duty time; the few places in TDC (Tongduchon), adjacent to the HQ of the combat arm of 8th Army and where the soldiers went, didn't require much knowledge of the Korean language.  Yongsan Garrison, conversely, presented opportunities to appreciate the culture of quite an amazing country.  This captain needed more commo skills...


 The Republic of Korea SOFA terms (Status of Forces Agreement) dictated that we could only pay Ajumma $35 monthly, no more.  I know that each of the five of us paid that small sum by check and, as a measure of how much we appreciated our "house mother",  commissary purchases would find their way to Ajumma.  She would tell us how excited her family was when she brought home something from the Yongsan commissary.


Ajumma's patience, coupled with AFKN's Korean phrases on TV, enabled me to, initially, get a beer and a favorite of Americans and Europeans, bulgogi.  Ajumma made sure I didn't ask for kegogi which used dog meat instead of beef.  Her continued work with me enabled a better ability to utter a few Korean phrases and, consequently, more enjoyment of what Korea had to offer, without being restricted to only-English-required enclaves such as Itaewon.  One Saturday morning, I wanted to test my knowledge of Hanguk-mal in a part of Seoul that didn't speak Miguk-mal. I boarded a bus, crossed the Han River a couple of miles toward central Seoul and disembarked where 'nary an English word was being spoken.  


Hanguk-mal, the Korean language, doesn't use inflections in the syllables and sentence constructs, as does the English language. In contrast to English (Miguk-mal), which also places emphasis on certain words or phrases, Koreans use a whole sentence or a combination of them with different inflections, mostly guttoral, that express an almost emotional value to whatever they are saying.  Speaking with Ajumma for a few weeks enabled me to walk around, acquiring beverages, food and, most importantly, some dialog with Koreans.  They appreciated my efforts in my struggle to gain fluidity in Hanguk-mal.  My good friend, Al Kuhre, actually studied the written language, as well.  He had a beautiful Korean girlfriend and wanted to impress her with a handwritten letter.   


Ajumma, indicating she was pleased with my progress with the language, introduced me to a highly respected historian at Seoul University,  Woo-keun Han , who had recently authored a History of Korea textbook.  His daughter was studying there for a PhD in Biochemistry; the doctoral thesis must be in English.  He asked if I would be able to provide her with assistance in the translation process.  I indicated I would be delighted to do so as part of JUSMAG outreach operations.  I thought simple grammar construction and syntax would be all that would be required of me.


Oh my, there was more difficulty than expected, as placement of a prepositional phrase, or improper antecedent agreement would distort the underlying biochemical meaning of the sentence or phrase.  I quickly called my wife in Chattanooga and asked her to send my Biochem textbook, authored by Lubert Stryer.  I needed some review, even with two semesters of Biochem at UTC and as a post graduate in Memphis behind me.  Mission was accomplished.  Thanks, God.  That would have been embarrassing if one of  the board members evaluating her thesis inquired if a sixth grader had written the English version...


 Dr. Han asked if I would be able to help other Biochem PhD candidates in a similar fashion.  After refreshing myself on the hydroxylation of proline and lysine as part of the production of ascorbic acid (vitamin C), necessary for collagen formation, and dozens of other common biochemical reactions in the body, the subsequent collaborations were much easier.  


Unlike the United States, Koreans place high emphasis on the education of their children.  High school students must not be out of their home on school nights after 1900 hours.  LTC Blainey's secretary, whom I interviewed before her addition to our dental staffing, provided me with a unique insight to their culture.  She shared with me her suspension from school for a few days because she was caught at a movie theater on a week night.  Hye Chong was a brilliant young lady who spoke five languages and provided me with an immersion in Korean culture likely not experienced by other visitors to the Land of a Thousand Hills.  An outdoor Korean wedding, replete with traditional Korean dress, music and, of course, tasty cuisine (I do like kimchi with my rice and bulgogi...) provides a wonderful afternoon, remembered forever.  Korean weddings will always find two wooden ducks, a symbol of a monogamous relationship, as part of the ceremony; I brought back a pair for my mother and father.  


The only formal affair I attended in Korea was a JUSMAG affair on Ambassador's Row.  Since I would be dining with heads of state, dress blues were required.  As an officer, I was well versed in this sort of protocol and wanted everything copasetic, a term often used by my father. No violation of that protocol.  During dinner, I clearly remember having dialog with a Republic of Korea liaison military officer.  I spoke  English, while interjecting familiar Korean phrases, confident I was using them correctly.  I came to rely on Hye Chong's help when navigating unfamiliar Korean territory; I asked her if she would accompany me to this annual event. Reserving only a spoon as my silverware, I eschewed the fork, as I had been taught how to use chopsticks by Ajumma.  It always seemed the food tasted better when grasped with chopsticks; I had long passed those early learning sessions where I occasionally  dropped chicken or a yaki mandu dumpling. 


While speaking with the ROK liaison officer, I noticed he would have an amusing smile on his face, seemingly a non sequitur.  He left the table for a few moments; I queried Hye Chong if I, perhaps, had been using my Korean incorrectly.  A big grin spread across her face as she explained he was smiling at the grip I was using with the chopsticks.  Apparently, in a culture with three different ways to say the same thing (close friends, normal social discourse and honorific for elders), there are two ways to grip the chopsticks: an elite and a commoner grip.  I guess Ajumma was not in the elite class; she was gracious and an absolute delight in my life.  I hope she is well.    


I have not changed my chopstick technique, as it serves me well.


Courtesy Patrols:

As a captain with Second Infantry Division, there were those "other duties as assigned".  As such, senior NCO's and commissioned officers were required for Courtesy Patrols.  On a rotational basis, I would walk through the various eateries and clubs, especially where alcohol was served, with an arm band indicating I was a part of said patrol.  Some of these soldiers were getting their first taste of a beer in over thirty days, as their DMZ rotations required.  As a consequence, the rowdy factor is always present.  Military discipline and the soldiers' respect for their chain of command, however, has a calming effect on most developing situations with a superior officer present. 


Before DEI and the Demoncrat's destruction of our military, early symptoms of this malignancy was evident even way back in 1984.   As a Courtesy Patrol officer, I was expecting the occasional fist fight between soldiers, an overt example of unacceptable behavior by the soldier.  There were a few of those situations, but the overwhelming issue was the treatment accorded the Korean population by junior enlisted.  The predominant offender was the young black male soldier.  I cannot remember how many times I interceded in a profanity-filled tirade by a 20 year old in a verbal barrage of Korean civilians, young and old.  


If the young soldier expressed genuine contrition to the offended party, I would provide a brief counselling session.  That was extremely effective with the 2ID soldiers, as they were disciplined infantrymen.


In Yongsan, HQ for Eighth Army, it was a different story.  No Courtesy Patrol there; the Military Police handled things.


As an off duty officer in Yongsan, Itaewon beckoned.  I had my first Wendy's Frosty in months after deploying from Fort Rucker.  Mmmmm...


Unlike TDC, where the embarrassing behavior exhibited by a few soldiers was limited to an audience who was used to that sort of outburst, Itaewon found a lot of incredulous tourists who had never witnessed such behavior.  Extremely embarrassing for Eighth Army, the global audience in Itaewon, especially Europeans who coveted the relatively inexpensive furs offered in this shopping mecca for worldwide travellers, witnessed these foul-mouthed and disrespectful Americans first hand. 


 There were a number of occasions when I was able to enjoy Western food and entertainment (although bands that performed could only be Asian bands unless the United States operated the facility, e.g., the Seoul Garden Hotel.).  I was thankful I was in civilian attire when a stupid American demonstrated this vile behavior.  If I encountered behavior counter to what the UCMJ required demonstrated by a uniformed soldier, I would intervene and present my ID.


Again, unlike TDC, some of these young soldiers were unaware of appropriate protocol when engaged with a superior officer.  There were a couple of situations that were resolved readily, as in TDC.  Several others, in contrast, required the summoning of the MP's and subsequent incarceration in the stockade until final disposition could be accomplished.  Most were separated from the Army.


Sure didn't miss those predawn PT formations:


"Captain Daw", I remember on a number of occasions, "hot coffee and S.O.S. sure are going to be good after this last mile...". I nodded, knowing my first meal was going to be between patients at the only dental clinic at Camp Casey and, for that matter, north of Seoul.  "Bring on that negative 20 degrees...", as I quickly nodded out, given the typical 12 hour work day.  I cannot forget the numerous disappointments I endured when the wind chill factor was only a negative 19 or more.  


One morning, I was not disappointed.  At 25 degrees below, I enjoyed that extra hour of sleep; the S.O.S. was especially delicious that morning.  


Oh, but the pleasures attendant to no PT that day tended to be fleeting, as there was no escaping the duty and requirements of soldiers assigned to the Second Infantry Division.  The Second Medical Battalion was no exception, as it was the only combat-deployed medical battalion in the Army. As I was running to the clinic that morning, my belly full of a great breakfast, I remembered something that diminished my delight of no PT:  it was "that time of the month".

No, Martha, not what you're thinking...

Each month, a ten mile forced march (not always a forced road march) was required after duty hours.  Every month found Bravo Company with a standard fighting load, sometimes in total darkness, marching through mud, brush, dense woodlands and a myriad of paths that were not on easy-to-traverse roads.  Captain Craig Hacker, my company commander, seemed to devise a different and challenging ten miles each and every month.


Robert Frost came to mind - '...the road less traveled...'


I would have preferred that less traveled road - any road, for that matter...

Martha, this isn't Kansas any more.

Upon my arrival to Camp Casey, I was interviewed by my battalion commander, LTC Clemmons.  I remember the first thing in his office I noticed was a rather large painting hanging on the wall depicting a Viking warrior surrounded by a burning village and a brunette in his grasp.  There was a caption that, paraphrasing, read "War meant killing your enemy, burning his village and (most importantly) clutching his woman to your breast...". 

These soldiers with the 2d ID were serious.  LTC Clemmons informed me that CPT Hacker was experiencing morale issues, as his soldiers did not understand why the dental officer I was replacing excused himself from PT.  He then explained the distance between the MTF and the dental clinic justified such, perhaps, but it caused grumbling of the enlisted soldiers. As I was senior to my company commander, he could not order me to participate in PT, but LTC Clemmons could. As he left the decision up to me, I would, of course, show leadership and do PT while it is still dark outside.  


And I thought the life of a dental officer was going to be easier than that of an infantry officer...

As it turned out, my presence did, in fact, help CPT Hacker, as the manifestations of differences between men and women presented themselves.  "Going woke" by dissolution of the WAC and integration of women into the male ranks ran headlong into the physical requirements of an Infantry Division. Those compromises found me coaxing young female soldiers and marching alongside them, as well as their fellow soldiers, in order to motivate and encourage them. They respected that.  As I was leaving the Second Med Battalion, due to my attachment to the 10th Medical Detachment (DS) in Yongsan, a surprise party was given for me. 


I am still humbled at the privilege of serving with these fine young soldiers.  I remember specifically one young corporal thanking me for prodding her to pick up the pace; she subsequently earned a good EER (enlisted evaluation report), paving the way for her promotion to E-4.

Is a soldier's physical ability important?

The physical requirements expected of me as an ROTC cadet had been substantially lessened during my four years in dental school.  Every six months at UTC, the cadets were subjected to a six-event evaluation, graded very strictly.  It wasn't a push-up if your chest didn't touch the flattened hand of the instructor grading you.  I can still recall SGM Horne's smiling face when he counted "43, 43, 43..." until I completed the down stroke.  (In a further effort by boys to satirize other boys' names, you might imagine how this Green Beret's surname was pronounced...).  

The success and reputation of the UTC ROTC program, nationally, was a reflection of the incredible cadre.  I had been around a lot of military stud warriors growing up, as my father was a special operator, 11 Bravo and a Drill Sergeant.  My first day as a young cadet quickly found me in an environment where every cadre member (all male - before full integration of the WAC) was Airborne qualified.  SGM Boatwright and SGM Horne were Green Berets and the rest of the cadre were Ranger qualified.  


The first women allowed to participate in collegiate Senior ROTC programs were exempted from those six-event PT tests. Contractual obligation to the US Army wasn't offered until their junior year.  I was in Memphis by that time. After many of those PT tests at UTC, I can most assuredly attest to the fact that it was quite demanding.  


The ROTC Department shared the football field with the UTC football team.  As our PT test progressed, I don't know who were more miserable, us or the UTC football players sweating in the summer heat.

 Starting with the "run, dodge and jump", the cadet would perform a figure-8 around 4 sawhorses, placed in two pairs, separated by a six foot "ditch", as determined by tape placement on the surface of Chamberlain Field.    The number of completed circuits in a two minute period was recorded before the next event which was the inverted crawl of 40 yards.  Again, that time was recorded. Next, the number of rungs negotiated on the horizontal ladder was recorded.  I learned as a freshman to lightly powder my hands, as two minutes on the horizontal ladder produced bleeding blisters. Callouses eventually formed; powder was not required then.  Thanks, God, for the human body's ability to adapt to a changing environment.  (Basic training in the eighties provided ample opportunity for the trainee to use the horizontal ladder, a measure of their upper body strength.  Every trainee had to execute at least one length of the ladder before chow.)  After this event, the fun started.


The number of properly-executed push-ups and sit-ups in a two minute period was recorded.  I also learned as a freshman, accept you are only going to be able to do a certain amount of sit-ups; be careful about trying to max that event with your 56th sit-up.  On that day in September, 1972, upon completion of that phase of my PT test and standing up, I realized the next and last event, the two-mile run (in boots), was not going to go well.  My legs, well conditioned from hundreds of miles of bicycle riding as a youth and squatting behind the plate for years as a catcher, had never failed me.   My quads, however, were now screaming from the exertion I placed upon them with that last sit-up.  "Lift with your legs and perform sit-ups with your abdomen..."


I still hang my head when I recall the first and only failure of a PT test.  Oh, the shame...


Despite this strenuous testing and evaluation of the physical condition of its soldiers in the seventies, replaced with the APFT (Advanced Physical Fitness Test) with different standards for men and women in the 1980's, more was required before the Army would allow cadets to go to Airborne School.  Further upper and lower body strength evidence was required at Fort Benning, as a paratrooper infantryman would need it in order to, for example, evacuate a fellow soldier off the battlefield.  Such combat situations were not expected of every US soldier; the APFT was considered adequate evidence of physical readiness.  Conversely, the physical demands on a paratrooper necessitated the Airborne Physical Fitness Test.  


In addition to the APFT requirement, 12 pull-ups were required as well as 80 deep-knee bends in two minutes.  My legs would now be tested for their ability to handle something I had never done before.  Squatting was second nature (no, Martha not there...) as a baseball catcher, but the ability to perform 80 deep knee bends in a two minute period was daunting.  I clearly remember stepping off my mother and father's front porch subsequent to my first 80 deep knee bend effort and falling to the ground, as those quads rebelled.  


That's OK;  I performed the requirement in under two minutes.

Special Forces and the Green Berets

 SGM Boatwright taught me how to tie a Swiss Seat and ensured my rope was secure before my first rappel at Eagle's Nest on Lookout Mountain.  Further, SGM Boatwright, with his incredible experience as a Green Beret operator in Vietnam, provided further training, voluntary, in night land navigation as an individual soldier.  Untold number of miles, as part of day and night land navigation training, closely watching my compass and tracking my distance, really paid off about ten years later.  


The biggest obstacle to being awarded the Expert Field Medical Badge, while deployed as Division Dental Surgeon for the Second Infantry Division in 1984, was the night land navigation course.  At UTC, night land navigation training was conducted as a 2-man team; one maintained the proper azimuth (direction) and the other the distance.  Red filtered flashlights allowed communication between the two, as sound and light discipline were paramount.


I clearly remember on a dark and stormy night, after finding 2 of the 3 required points to identify, I was having difficulty locating the third.  Looking for an eighteen-inch paint paddle, adorned with an orange tip and tiny flag, was proving difficult.  The increasing storm activity, with the pounding rain and near total darkness, severely limited my visual scope.


  I prayed:  "Please, God, help me find this...".


A few seconds later, as if on cue, a massive lightning strike occurred; the land illuminated as if it were the middle of the day.  And there it was, the little paint stirrer and its tiny flag tied to it - stiff in the wind.  Another example of God's benevolence.  


With 256 candidates for the EFMB on the DMZ, only 35 of us were awarded the badge. Over and over that night, SGM Boatwright's instruction was on top of mind; I had not picked up a compass in seven years.  Incidentally, the only guy that beat me finishing that night course had just completed Ranger School.


SGM Boatwright enriched the lives of high schoolers at East Ridge High School as a cadre member of their JROTC department (in the same manner as my father at Ooltewah High). Thanks, SGM.


SGM Horne was also a highly accomplished warrior.  He and SGM Boatwright provided a great part of our ambush, demolition and Ranger operations instruction.  He became known for the mathematical question posed to his MS II class in 1973:  "How many times does a 3,500 dollar T.O.W. missile go into a 385,000 dollar Russian T-62? ". 



Another anecdotal example of 'men and women are the same'...

0245 hours - time for this happy soldier to hit the sack...

The excitement of locating that third point, with God's grace, had elevated my epi levels such that I wasn't exhausted even after, at that point, a more than 21 hour day.  


The only requirement left for the awarding of the highly coveted EFMB was a 12 mile forced road march, with standard fighting load, to be completed  in under three hours.


I placed the only pair of boots I had, my Corcorans, on the stove in the GP Medium tent, as they were soaking wet.



The Boy Scouts of America stressed 'Be Prepared', as did my father.

As I was immersed in the Expert Field Badge testing only two weeks after my arrival to Camp Casey, part of my deployment gear, two pairs of boots, was not satisfied.


The small PX at Camp Casey had limited merchandise and had no size 12 Corcorans in stock.  It would require going to Yongsan in order to acquire another pair, as I did like that steel toe shined such that it sparkled...


The start of EFMB testing, however, precluded such; I was forced to only have one pair of boots for the two weeks.  


Fortunately, the torrential rain (and that incredible light display) occurred on the final night of testing.  My wet boots would be dry by 0600 hours and the bugle blare of reveille would herald the final phase of this arduous adventure.


Still wet from several hours in the pounding rain, I welcomed the warmth of my sleeping bag.  


Goodnight, sweet prince...



A couple of hours or so later, approximately 0500 hours, that familiar call to arms:

Captain Daw!  


Heads up; we have a missing soldier!


My little cocoon of warmth and comfort, dreaming of being back in my Quonset hut, was suddenly shattered by the booming voice of one of the instructors.


His countenance suggested this was an urgent situation. 


 I couldn't imagine what the urgency was, as expressed in his voice; a soldier veering off his azimuth would not be an issue after daylight when proper terrain recognition would indicate his position.



My bleary eyes snapped open when it was revealed an open lye pit was adjacent to the course...

This lye pit was about ten feet or so below ground level, and submerged in about twenty feet of water.  


Unlike the image above, this pit had a steep drop off; there was concern the soldier, closely following the azimuth on his compass, may have fallen into this hazardous pit and drowned.


I recall using tent poles to probe the foul smelling depths, hoping not to find this soldier.


After an hour or so, as the sun was breaking on the horizon, our efforts were suspended there; the standard Army technique for finding the dead or wounded was then employed.


By this time, there were only  

a few dozen soldiers left, as any failure in the lengthy testing process in the EFMB resulted in the soldier being immediately shipped back to his duty station.



We all formed a human chain, holding hands with adjacent soldiers so as not to miss anything in the dense brush we were navigating.


Fortunately, no body was found.  About 0900 hours, we were informed the soldier had been found safe.


I breathed a sigh of relief before subsequently learning this dumbass that required my boots to get soaking wet again, had gotten lost.


SHE flagged down a farmer and hitched a ride on his tractor to her billet (in Yongsan, no less) and promptly went to sleep, failing to notify the rest of us that she was safe.


Grrrrrrrrrr!!!!!


Not only had this female soldier failed at the most basic of her duties...

Are you kidding me - WTF?  


Dozens of her fellow soldiers endured that worry and distress unnecessarily.


Now I was forced to complete a 12 mile forced road march IN WET BOOTS!


DEI at work; there was a reason females were excluded from certain duties as a Second ID soldier.


DEI = DIE


I started feeling the first blisters develop about 7 miles or so in...

Yup - about 9 miles in, those blisters started bleeding...

Every step provided an exercise in pain; the last two miles were most memorable.


The pain vanished, however, when Major General Doctor pinned my badge on me.


Luckily, the MTF had mole skin to provide some relief while my aching puppies healed.


Again, disappointment reigned when I returned to my AO, the MTF complex.  I hopped gingerly out of the deuce and a half, only to find out an alert had just sounded.


My duties as clearing platoon leader would delay further my much desired rest and sleep.  But God intervened, as the drill was shortly called off, allowing me to limp up the Ranger trail to my hut.


God, You are the best! 



Yom Kippur War

 The 1973 Yom Kippur War was yet another attempt to eradicate Israel, only 25 years in existence.    Luke 21:20 immediately became top of mind, as the PLO, the forefathers of today's Demoncratic Party, was wreaking havoc on the Children of God during the 1960's, culminating in the 1972 Munich Massacre of innocent Olympians by one of their branches, Black September.


Yasser Arafat suffered no consequences.  His political future was secured and our United Nations applauded every advance of muslim evil against Western civilization and Judeo-Christian values and, most importantly, Israel. TIME Magazine coronated him as Man of the Year in 1993.  No surprises there. 


 It appeared God had enough of this evil and the prophecy of Luke was about to be fulfilled with a twelve-country coalition of Arabs (large component of the Demoncrat horde) attacking one tiny nation.  With hundreds of Egyptian tanks storming across the Sinai and the Golan Heights providing Syria with an incredible artillery advantage, it was inevitable that the annihilation of Israel was at hand.


CBS video of the desert battlefield in the first hours of Yom Kippur sent chills down my back, knowing what armor can do to infantry divisions.  The next day, an alert went through the ROTC department indicating an unscheduled briefing with SGM Horne was mandatory.  That was when SGM Horne posed the question regarding the newest U.S. weapon on the battlefield - the BGM-71 TOW  ("Tube-launched, Optically-tracked, Wire-guided" ) missile.   I can still see all those pens and pencils quickly performing the division - how many times does the 3,500 dollar missile go into the 385,000 dollar tank - as SGM Horne quickly gave us the answer:  "Once."


The introduction of the most lethal antiarmor weapon in the history of man, I most certainly believe, was a reprieve from Luke, as there was not going to be a Dunkirk-style rescue of a nation with its back to the sea.  Nor would there be an Inchon Landing in order to rescue 8th Army. 


Kinetic warfare finds both Artillery and Armor claiming the title "King of the Battlefield".  (I wish Infantry didn't carry the title "Queen of the Battle".  How did this happen?  Did a Wayback Machine for the Woke provide time transport?  The Demoncrats are using this reference to change our military forever.  Hmmm.  However, there were those powdered wigs - damn British and their innate ability to diminish masculinity.) 


 An infantryman recognizes falling munitions from locations unknown necessitate quick actions in order to survive on the battlefield.  Indirect fire from mortars provide a level of lethality such that the Army utilizes the 80 mm mortar for Air Assault and Airborne operations, as well as special operation infantry units.  The M2 4.2 inch provides extensive lethality as an antipersonnel weapon.  


A quantum leap in lethality provided by indirect fire is found in field artillery such as the 105mm and 155mm cannons.  One battery of  six can devastate columns of infantry and provide a quite effective antiarmor weapon.  (Fort Reilly provided me, as part of my field artillery training, the opportunity to give a Forward Observer's favorite command:  "Fire for effect!".  After establishing a position of recon for the target, I requested 2 of the six guns in the battery send 155 mm rounds downrange via the FDC -  Fire Direction Center - using their coordinates.  Fine tuning the target acquisition in those days required "eyes on the target"; binoculars with a graduated reticule allowed me to measure lateral distances with some degree of accuracy. Knowing my target distance, I first established the lateral adjustment required:  using the reticule, I measured the distance from the midway point of the exploding rounds to the target expressed in mills.  Calculating this lateral adjustment was a function of the target distance from me; it allowed me to acquire line of sight with the impact.  Sending another two rounds after the left or right adjustment allowed me to send the up or down adjustment, again in mills using the reticule.   Communication with a FDC and gun battery miles behind you is, frankly, exhilarating.  Knowing I was about to bring rain and pain on the enemy, i.e., refrigerators a few hundred meters in front of me, and the concomitant epinephrine rush provided balance to the arduous and largely unpleasant six weeks in Kansas in the summer of 1975.  Upon the FDC commo "Shot out!", I would anxiously await the rounds to arrive on the impact zone.  "Splash!" indicated to the FDC the FO had visuals.  Again, utilizing the add/drop and left/right paradigm, in conjunction with contour maps for terrain recognition, results in the Forward Observer finding the "sweet spot" in order to unleash six rounds of high explosives.  I remember giving that command "Fire for effect!" which provided a thrill of a lifetime: I literally heard those six rounds hurtling over my head, fired from kilometers away and seconds later exploding in front of me, briefly obscuring my full view through the binoculars.  Wow!)   


Howitzers provide this lethality in a mobile system that enhances the tactical maneuver options for the field commander.  


Again, Armor claims the mantle of  "King of the Battlefield" with justification.  The force multiplier of armor in a combined arms infantry attack is immeasurable.  Ground forces fear the direct fire lethality directed at them by armor (tanks) much more than indirect kinetic fire.  For decades prior to 1973 the best anti-tank weapon was another tank or with indirect fire utilizing a 105mm or 155mm round. Two factors dictated the battlefield effectiveness of the measures:  the kinetic energy possessed by the round and the probability of hitting the target.  


As an Army child growing up with other young boys, the military was infused in our games and play.  My father always helped in my aspirations to be one of the best dressed soldiers in the neighborhood.  Plastic Army men provided hours of entertainment with my friends.  With my father's assignment to the United States Army Armor Training Center, Fort Knox, KY, tanks became an indispensable part of our much-maneuvered weaponry.  I still fondly remember those General George Patton museum visits, fascinated with their focus on armored warfare.  The muffled sounds of those 105mm guns of M-60 tanks at night, miles distant on the tank ranges, serenaded me to sleep many nights.  I was in make-believe combat heaven.


Actual combat training at UTC conferred a sense of dread of any confrontation with these beasts of steel on the battlefield.  From the perspective of an infantryman, I welcomed the progression of anti-tank lethality delivered to the tank in the form of kinetic energy, as provided by the sabot round.  The first equation one learns in Physics is "Force equals mass times velocity."  The increased mass of depleted uranium provided penetration of armor (sometimes described as a 'hot knife through butter'), resulting in a substantial improvement in tank kills.  The high kinetic energy contained in such a dense projectile produced forces I would never have imagined, even having UTC Physics instruction behind me.  Its introduction in the Army in 1992 impacted the battlefield significantly.


The tried and true 155mm round carried a huge amount of energy, also:  SGM Boatwright described a graphic encounter of such forces while on patrol as part of a mechanized infantry operation in Vietnam.  Encountering one of the Manchurian Candidate's paymaster's tanks, the M-109 howitzer accompanying the infantrymen unleashed a round which glanced off the tank's turret. The tank slowly rolled to a stop, as special forces awaited the exiting of the crew.  There was no fire or explosion; the tank was motionless for about 30 minutes before SGM Boatwright climbed on top and opened the hatch ready to toss in a grenade.  


To his astonishment, the tank crew had been liquefied with the force of the glancing projectile.  There are images too graphic to depict here of such a gruesome scene. 


When a Green Beret is narrating operational exploits, soldiers listen attentively.  Accordingly, when SGM Boatwright recounted details of a high-value target acquisition in Vietnam, a specialty of Green Berets, we were all ears.   Recon teams monitored known Viet Cong and NVA trails, as a senior commander from Hanoi would soon be undertaking a highly unusual mission, deep in the jungle.  Knowing the target was going to be on a specific trail, his whereabouts were transmitted in real time via human intelligence and the ANPRC-77 (with encryption capabilities).  According to SGM Boatwright's intelligence reports, this target would be escorted by about 30 enemy soldiers.  Further, this ambush required the target be taken alive, as valuable intel would be available.  


Global intelligence was preparing the MACV  for something momentous on the horizon.  (As it turned out, it was the Tet Offensive...)  


Again, with the Green Berets providing the bulk of ambush and Ranger operations training, we were familiar with the extensive application of C-4 explosives and Claymore mines.  Quite handy material to keep around for opening doors and such.  A great use by Army Rangers for railway sabotage is the placement of a cigarette pack sized C-4 charge on the outward rail of a mountainous curve, detonating it electronically just ahead of the doomed train.  


SGM Boatwright explained the role of C-4 in his snatching of this high-value target.  This was further evidence of a Green Beret operator's ability to develop ways to make the enemy's day quite miserable.  


All ambushes must be executed precisely, from the simple straight-line ambush to the more complex Z ambush with three kill zones.  The jungle trails travelled by the Viet Cong provided a presentation of the enemy conducive for the straight-line ambush;  one kill zone was required.  With the additional task of snatching an enemy alive, however, a modification was required.   A section of 3/4 inch plywood, roughly two meters square, was hidden on the trail.  As the enemy patrol passed beneath him, SGM Boatwright held the electronic detonator control, carefully scanning the enemy for the target's identifying uniform.  SGM Boatwright, perched in a tree alongside the trail, patiently observed the target's movement through the jungle as he approached the hidden plywood square.  Just as the target was passing over the improvised weapon, he detonated C-4 charges underneath the plywood, positioned in such a fashion as to propel the target off the trail, exposing the enemy to closure of the kill box with the M-60 and his elimination with the M-16.  One of his legs was blown off below the knee; a special forces medic provided a tourniquet before his transport back to the FOB.  


In 1973,  the TOW missile was the answer for the hundreds of armored vehicles in their assault on Israel in the Sinai.  It allowed Israel to stand in defiance and resulted in an incredible and much-studied war.  Command and General Staff College places substantial emphasis on Yom Kippur; diametrically opposed war doctrines defined the conflict.  Western doctrine mandates command and control provided at the battalion level, allowing for tactical flexibility on the battlefield.  The Russian doctrine centralizes this control, leaving the tactical responses to be reactive instead of proactive.  (As evidenced, tragically, in the Abbey Gate slaughter of our troops; the Manchurian Candidate and State controlled the tactics.) 


In conventional anti-tank warfare, the first hit capability, for example, of the 155mm howitzer was around 35%, the second round provided roughly 60% and the third round 85% hit probability. All the while, however, that target is bringing their main gun to bear; there's not a lot of time to hang around.  The Hunter becomes the Hunted.


Conversely, the TOW provided the operator with the ability to control the flight path of the missile via more than two miles of wire tucked inside, resulting in a greater than 90% first hit capability.  The Egyptians still rue that devastation of their armor 50  years later.  "Tank" you, God.  


I feel only God can save us from the Manchurian Candidate and the global "elite".   Their demands that Israel stop the total destruction of Hamas is unconscionable.  Keep those prayers going...


At any rate, SGM Horne's  briefing and graphic photos of Egyptians on fire as they exited their Russian tanks, thanks to the TOW, will always be remembered.

  
However, my best memory of the Sergeant Major was his description of Australia's beautiful women and their three-to-one ratio over men... Lucky rascals.

 

No PT tests were required while I was in dental school.  (Regrettably, neither were haircuts, in retrospect...)  Keeping in shape was easy, as intramural sports were fantastic.  Softball, flag football and basketball teams provided a great stress release from the rigors of dental school.  Prior to dental school, I always thought a "fullback" was found on the football field, but, always wanting to kick a ball, I played fullback on a soccer team.  Having never actually played soccer before (being a southern boy...) all I knew was "kick the crap out of the ball toward the other end of the field...".  I was then good to go.  We had some really gifted athletes as part of that class.


Fort Sam Houston beckons...

I wasn't concerned that I had gotten out of shape during those four years in Memphis; again, I was blessed to a part of an amazing class.  After cutting my hair (it was about time...), I began my active duty service with my initial assignment to Fort Sam Houston, TX.  I learned of the changes that had occurred during my four-year hiatus from the Army.  The first change noted was that the standard fatigues issued in my ROTC years (1972-1976), prior to my commissioning as a Second Lieutenant, had been replaced with BDU's (Battle Dress Uniform).  This uniform, now with camouflage patterns, reflected technologic advances in fabric treatment such that the uniform itself made the soldier less visible to infrared light.  This was advantageous in combat at night; it was important not to iron these uniforms, as the heat would destroy that protection.  As ironed and starched fatigues had been a constant for decades in the Army, (I remember my mother using Pepsi bottles and a sprinkler head to place starch on my father's fatigues as she ironed them; that crease line was well defined.) most of us maintained an ironed set of BDU's. Despite edicts that flow down from civilians, tradition is hard to overcome.  We all had a set of BDU's, apart from the sets for the field or combat deployments, ironed, starched and looking good... 

Another departure from tradition: spit-shined shoes.  Corfam low quarters, requiring no polishing, was a welcome change.  


A long requirement of soldiers, however was not changed. Spit-shined boots, although not required, were a reflection, justified or not, of a good soldier. Drill Sergeants, held to the highest standards, always had great well-shined boots.  My father had a standing challenge for his trainees: anyone whose boots were better spit-shined (actually water incorporated with the rubbing motion of the shoe polish) than his would get the day off.  Only one time did this occur; that trainee went on to win the most outstanding trainee of that cycle at Fort Knox. Despite offers to perform this task for my father, the spit-shining of my father's boots remained his responsibility; he trusted no one else to perform this task.


 I must admit that I paid Chogi Boy in Korea to accomplish this task on my Corcoran jump boots.  These fellows had some sort of magic elixir in a cup that produced a "can see yourself in them" shine on the toe of the boot. Unlike the floor wax I used on my Color Guard boots at UTC, it didn't crack after a couple of days. Standard Army boots did not require more than shoe polish and a shine.  That beautiful shine produced by a Chogi Boy seemed to be effortless.  In less than five minutes the steel toes of my Corcorans shined as if I had spent a half hour doing the same. Oh, the secret sauce recipe was protected better than Colonel Sanders' KFC recipe or Coke's formula; this was a substantial business endeavor by kids in Tongduchon, adjacent to Camp Casey.  The cup containing this liquid was covered at all times; no amount of bribery would loosen the lips of these entrepreneurs .  Good for them.

The importance of physical readiness...

I was pleasantly surprised that PT requirements no longer required boots; running shoes were acceptable. (My thought was if the enemy would allow us to change footwear...)  Further, the six-event two hour PT endurance test had been replaced by the APFT (Advanced Physical Fitness Test) with only 3 events:  push-ups, sit-ups and a two-mile run.  I thought, although this less demanding PT test was welcomed by me, what did it mean for the Army's overall readiness?  My first PT test only increased my concern for that readiness. 


As my father pointed out when I was growing up, what was best for the Army was best for me. Not this time.  

 As the woke forces demanded we treat men and women equally, we must ignore the obvious ramifications of such.  The Army, more pragmatic than the NCAA, recognized females were different than males.  Consequently, female push-ups were performed on their knees.  Further, and even though the musculature required in running is manifested much less in the legs than the upper body, female running time requirements were drastically different than their male counterparts. A much larger percentage of females maxed their PT tests, as opposed to the male soldiers.  


Women's service, with their indispensable role in combat service support units, were an important part of our national defense.  Their integration into the male ranks has reduced our effectiveness.  "Sexual assaults" have exploded since the dissolution of the WAC.  


Many female soldiers have made these assault claims without merit.  The "believe all women" mentality has destroyed the careers of many male soldiers.  As a Captain with the  2d ID, I served on FPA (favorable personnel actions) boards.  I was surprised that blacks and females were given extra "points" for their immutable characteristics.  I had no idea that DEI would become a universal theme decades later.


As an officer, senior NCO's provide the backbone of your command or unit.  Junior enlisted sometimes need measures to adjust their lackluster performance of their duties.  In lieu of a court-martial, reserved for the most serious offenses, an Article Fifteen, as a non-judicial punishment, can be issued.  This, however, is reflected in the soldiers record.  


There are "other duties as assigned" measures that can be taken, so as not to permanently affect

the soldier's career.  As Motor Officer while stationed at Yongsan Garrison, I disciplined one of my privates by assigning her to the Motor Pool for maintenance of  vehicles; she was to be answerable to my Motor Sergeant.  After pouting and openly defiant to her chain of command, she falsely accused the Motor Sergeant of inappropriate groping.   Good old sexual assault, much like Demoncrats  shout "racism" at every turn.


I knew this senior NCO quite well; field deployments allowed me to spend a substantial amount of time with him.  Proud of his beautiful family and a devout Christian, I knew he had been wrongly accused.  My investigation of the matter found no corroborating evidence or witness to any of this made-up story.


I issued her an ultimatum:  separate from the Army and go home or face a court-martial.  She left Korea.



As much as I love America's Got Talent and the performance of The 82nd Airborne Division All American Chorus, I was dismayed to see female soldiers displaying the much-revered 82d Airborne shoulder patch.  Will they be in those night jumps in support of the First Infantry Division?  Can they perform 80 deep-knee bends? Biden's immasculation of the military has been very effective.  Recruiting shortages and a lack of patriotism will doom this nation, I am afraid.


Remember the axiom: The enemy is watching.

Again, remember the enemy is not playing by the same rules woke Demoncrats impose on the US soldier.  Recalling another requirement from my UTC experience, the combat water survival test, my research indicates that, currently, the few senior ROTC programs that do require this potentially life-saving experience allow the cadet to remove his or her uniform and boots.  I doubt that the enemy will let blindfolded captured soldiers, prior to marching them into a raging river, put their bathing suits on.

RECONDO requirements while I was at UTC dictated the candidate must be able to swim (with fatigues and boots) two lengths of the pool in Maclellan Gym, side stroke, while maintaining his weapon above the water. (I know my M-14 got wet, but it didn't get dunked.)  Next was a blindfolded walk off the 6 meter diving board, ensuring his weapon was held with arms extended so as not to knock his teeth out when he hit the water.  Descending to the bottom of the pool, the candidate removed the blindfold and returned to the surface with weapon in hand.  (Well, my M-14 got wet that time...)  Lastly, TA-50 (web gear) was utilized, with ammo pouches and backpack loaded with bricks, as the candidate was tossed into the deep end, blindfolded.  The candidate must descend to the bottom, remove his blindfold and web gear and return to the surface, retaining his quite heavy TA-50.  


Another reason to serve as a dental officer.

Divine intervention, please.


I continue to pray for God to intervene, as the Demoncrats are on the verge of total destruction of our country. Lawfare was the weapon, perhaps, our forefathers didn't fear as much as they should have.  

With Iowa as the first to determine party candidates in 2024, The Manchurian Candidate will not be on the New Hampshire ballot. This is a consequence of his continual pulling of strings in order to increase the Demoncrats' ability to rig elections. We may never recover from the incredible acts of treason committed in the 2020 election.


The Iranian/Manchurian Candidate, depending on his ultra-left coalition of Muslims, Marxists, Communists and especially Blacks, constantly lies about who the enemy is.  With Whitey a perpetual target, he wages war on MAGA (Make America Great Again - wow, such a radical idea...) and the existential threat of the White Supremacist. He performed so poorly last time around in New Hampshire, with a substantially less black population, that he threw out one hundred years of tradition in order to get that Demoncrat James Clyburn's state of South Carolina as first in the nation to cast their "votes".  In view of the fact that Clyburn has been credited as single-handedly handing Biden his "victory", South Carolina was going to be the vanguard for the 2024 "election" and the final nail in the coffin of America.


As with all The Manchurian Candidate's efforts, that, too, ended in failure; he only accomplished not being on the ballot in New Hampshire.  How will this frail, plagiarizing, lying, confused shell of a man continue to vacation in his basement while the Fourth Estate does his bidding and campaigning for him?  


Speaking of the liberal press, why did they cover for Biden's FBI raiding of the home of Project Veritas' James O'Keefe, as part of an investigation into Ashley Biden's 'stolen' diary?



https://www.foxnews.com/media/fbi-raids-home-james-okeefe-ashley-biden-diary-project-veritas



Sure, it's embarrassing when your daughter blames her sex addiction on taking showers with her daddy as a seven year old.  And, of course, when she mistakenly leaves it in a halfway house for her coincidental drug addiction (a common theme in the President of the United States' family...), the knee-jerk response is to raid one of the few conservative voices left, James O'Keefe.


Do not interfere with the inexorable destruction of the greatest country in the history of God's Earth.  Project Veritas had previously reported atrocities that the Fourth Estate would not.  As the husband of an incredible wife who, in today's world, would have been ripped apart in her mother's womb, I am so blessed that God put a "whoa" on that. Lisa's birth mother placed the mother of my children in the home of an incredible lady through adoption services.  Today, Demoncrats overwhelmingly desire - no - demand that killing the most innocent and precious of us all be allowed with no restrictions.  


Bill Clinton has God's vengeance waiting.  I suspect God, already fuming at this disgusting individual, will take the fact that Clinton vetoed a bicameral measure, the Partial-Birth Abortion Ban Act of 1995, to exact his most searing punishment. Kathleen Sebelius, as governor of Kansas, did the same thing.  These people are without conscience and will do anything to keep the abortion industry money flowing.



When a Planned Parenthood (an organization started, by the way, to kill off blacks) staffer was secretly filmed discussing the monetary connection with the dismembering and subsequent selling of dead babies' body parts, the Demoncrats went crazy.  In between bites of her salad, she matter-of-factly presented the murder of the innocents as necessary in order to get these, apparently much coveted, hearts, legs, kidneys, etc., to market.  


Reminds me of the hog killings in North Carolina before the butchering of good old pork. 

Let us not forget the poor, helpless babies slaughtered by suctioning their bodies apart, feeling this unimaginable pain. The spinothalamic tract is the highway for transmission of pain and touch signals and is formed early: 


"Tactile sensations, such as touch and pain, are among the first to be developed during intrauterine life (Table 2). Twin pregnancies allow us to observe the first reactions to touch in utero. Peri-oral region, hands, and lower limbs become touch sensitive at 7.5, 10.5 and 14 weeks of gestation, respectively."



https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S1744165X12000625#preview-section-snippets



At 14 weeks, the baby tries to run from whatever is rendering so much pain.  


Ask the hundreds of patients I have treated over the years, suffering from  excruciating pain originating from just one tooth, if  they have experienced worse pain. They would say "no".  I have witnessed grown men crying in the chair, begging for relief.   Thank God for lidocaine... 


 


I pray that God has quickly spared those who Jesus loves most from their agony.  I wish one Demoncrat would view an intrauterine video capture of this gruesome event.  Wait a minute, these folks still wouldn't care.  The rights of the woman to choose...  (Which women - the real ones, or the fake ones?)


Liberal lawfare:  Planned Parenthood gets two million dollars on top of untold millions with the slaughter of babies.  "A jury of his peers" convicted The Center for Medical Progress and its founder David Daleiden for revealing this evil practice.  Incredible. 

When this vile, and surely worthy of burning in Hell, practice of torture and murder of babies for profit was exposed, the Demoncrats launched their lawfare.  All these evil lawyers need is a "jury of their peers" to convict any who deviate from their desired goal of total destruction of Western civilization.  Go to New York City or Washington, DC and your mission is complete; these Demoncrat jurors are the antithesis of a conservative's "peers".  Ask how a POS Letitia James stole money from the taxpayers of Georgia and gave it to her married boyfriend, while appointing him the lead prosecutor of a Republican, one Donald James Trump.  Again, harken back to Shakespeare's admonition of these scumbags in Henry VI, Part II . By the way, this adulterous piece of human garbage paid for a nice Caribbean cruise with that chunk of cash.  Hundreds of thousands of sex-on-the-ocean dollars.


South Carolina in decline:

At any rate, back to one of President Trump's challengers for the GOP nomination, Nikki Haley; she brings to mind the beautiful Palmetto State, South Carolina.  It sure has devolved in recent decades.  This decline parallels the Tarheel State, its northern neighbor, and it's continued decline (except Virginia Foxx - you go, girl!).  This would be a Hatlo's History script, as it drips with irony.  South Carolina's colonization, and entry as one the first thirteen colonies, was predicated on their insistence they be differentiated from the liberals of North Carolina.  They pointed out how difficult governance of one Carolina would prove to be.  Indeed.


If South Carolina thought North Carolina was liberal in 1776, what would they think now?  But wait, South Carolina has also been travelling with the Demoncrat behemoth that has engulfed our nation.  Although I haven't seen a "Kill All Jews" parade yet, the Demoncrats are firmly entrenched here. 

Worthy of Hatlo's History:

Further irony (Jimmy Hatlo would love this...): Fort Sumter sparked the Civil War, as South Carolina had joined the Confederate States of America.  The South Carolina flag included the Stars and Bars.  Despite the Fourth Estate's constant hyperbole of the Civil War being about slavery, the issue was State's rights vs Federal domination.  An abomination, slavery was found in the North, also.  If the Demoncrats continue beating that dead horse, why don't they focus on the west coast of Africa. Slavery is alive and well there.


The irony that Hatlo's History would appreciate:  Nikki Haley, a Donald Trump backstabber, removed the Stars and Bars from the flag.  Just like that.  Centuries of tradition thrown out, a hallmark of the Demoncrats.  She has been caught in a number of lies and the state of South Carolina deserved better.  Seems more like a Demoncrat to me.  Just saying.  Again, God is in control.


Perhaps the most telling evidence of the dramatic decline in this state which has provided so much for our readiness posture, by training hundreds of thousands of Army soldiers at Fort Jackson, is their unholy alliance with its northern toads.  (Is it still Fort Jackson?  So much Demoncrat  destruction of my father and my military heritage with their flippant and capricious renaming of military installations.  To what end?  I'm surprised Haley hasn't already done so, in light of her removal of the Stars and Bars...)


 Joining a number of other rancid states trying to pull a Pakistan or other third world country maneuver by imprisoning President Trump, the parties behind such surely don't reflect the values of its citizenry.  Does George Soros fund the advocates of this move to remove President Trump from the SC ballot, or is there wholesale voter fraud?  Probably both.  Short of that, disallowing the American people to choose trumps (forgive the pun...) constitutional mandates for the Demoncrats.  No Blue Dogs anymore; the once sane party is now so infected with a consortium of secular, if not outright religion haters, and anti-American trolls it may irreversible.


Fort Jackson:  My father, CSM Ted Daw, as the Command Sergeant Major, was top dog at the installation which trained Drill Instructors; his authority was unquestioned.  Further, his name adorned every entrance to Fort Jackson, alongside the Commanding General.  I was proud to complete my service to the United States Army at this prestigious post.  


The three days I spent out-processing in Columbia, South Carolina, gave me some time to reflect on the fond memories I had of this magnificent installation.  As I was unpacking in the BOQ, I recalled my first visit:  my father's retirement ceremony.   


Fort Jackson, South Carolina: an unforgettable event...

My father's retirement ceremony

I had been to a number of retirement ceremonies over the years.  As a child with the family during my father's active duty career, I was privileged to have been witness to these formal recognitions of service to our country and the United States Army. Beyond the accomplishments of these warriors, sometimes truly breathtaking, which impressed me, even at such a young age, was the opportunity to see so many soldiers assembled with such respect for one man.  That has to be earned.  Further, the soldier's family members there always exuded such pride; the tears in their eyes reflected that pride.  

I remember how proud I was of my father, always in a crisp uniform looking STRAC. He was a highly accomplished warrior in his own right; someday, I thought, with God's protection, the family would witness his. That recognition of my father's outstanding military performance over two decades will be memorable.


I could not have predicted that proud moment would come while I was Forensic Officer for the United States Army Aviation Center. Despite his being eligible for retirement after twenty years of service and my mother's excitement about returning to Chattanooga, Sergeant Major Daw's desire to enhance our Army's readiness took precedence. He finished his career as a Command Sergeant Major at the U.S. Army Drill Sergeant Academy at Fort Jackson, responsible for more than 150 Drill Sergeants. 

His 'reward' after two combat tours in Vietnam (awarded the Silver Star and the Combat Infantryman Badge) was his selection for the first contingent of male Army Drill Instructors at Fort McClellan as part of the liberal construct that there are only minor differences between men and women.  Dissolution of the Women's Army Corps was at hand. Master Sergeant Daw knew unprecedented challenges awaited him in this endeavor.  The contrast presented with basic training of females and that of males is enormous.  Physical and psychological differences are inescapable.


Another reflection of a soldier who follows his given marching orders, my father pressed on; the mission continues.  The chain of command had decided that this monumental and daunting task would be spearheaded by a level headed Drill Sergeant who had never exhibited any behavior that would detract from unit cohesiveness.  Racism was not tolerated during his years as a DI. Discipline was absolutely necessary with strict adherence to that chain of command.  Squad leaders reported to Platoon Sergeants; they reported to their First Sergeant and so forth until, ultimately, the Battalion First Sergeant.


Fort McClellan

My father was that Battalion First Sergeant in the most significant transformation of our Army since 1775.  Army leadership trusted Master Sergeant Daw with his proven record and long list of accomplishments.  He was paired with a Battalion Commander, LTC Clark, Women's Army Corps, who immediately designated him as the Battalion First Sergeant, aka, 'Top'. The 1SG now had a diamond insignia as part of his Master Sergeant patch.  Fortunately for my father, LTC Clark was a by-the-book commander.  1SG Daw and LTC Clark both placed discipline as top priority for the trainees; strict compliance would be an absolute requirement from these soldiers.  


I will always remember a humorous example reflective of the Battalion Commander and First Sergeant striving to get undisciplined soldiers on the right track. Occurring in the summer of 1973, reservists from Massachusetts were assigned to Fort McClellan for their annual summer drill requirement.  There always seems to be a trouble maker in an environment that requires uniformity and discipline; gender made no difference in that regard with military trainees.


Fast forward to my father whose wise counsel was being sought by one of his platoon sergeants. Some background:  The very first day of basic training instills in the trainee the need for a well-made bunk.  The corner folds must be 45 degrees; when the Drill Sergeant drops a dime on that blanket, it had better bounce.  A tightly placed blanket with no wrinkles is an indication of the soldier's ability to maintain focus of each step of this morning ritual.  I know of situations where one soldier had a beef with another and purposely pulled a corner of the blanket.  The DI gave a tongue lashing to the victim; but the 'blanket party' given for the offender put that to shame...


At any rate, the sanctity and importance of the only singular possession of the trainee, as well as his footlocker, was not to be trivialized, as a young private from Massachusetts found out that summer of 1973.  With years as a Drill Instructor, there were few situations encountered with his trainees that my father had not seen before.  Further, the over-the-top overt insult to her chain of command and fellow soldiers astonished the First Sergeant.  This young black soldier had placed her tissue-wrapped Kotex on her bunk, instead of proper disposal. Effectively giving her platoon sergeant 'the finger' and 'f*%#  you!', she had committed a serious violation.  As there were no 'blanket parties' in the WAC, discipline was through the chain of command.  This young lady, who checked the right boxes, had probably never been disciplined in her reserve unit for her poor behavior.



I wish I had been a fly on the wall to witness what happened next.



My father, a senior Drill Sergeant who placed heavy emphasis on discipline, morale and esprit-de-corps, was seething while he waited for her to report to him in his office.  He knew he had to have a more measured response with a female than with a male; he would attempt a counselling session, helping her to understand the compromise to unit morale this atrocious behavior causes.  Her platoon sergeant had also indicated the Kotex decoration was the culmination of several incidents this reservist had committed in her short time at Fort McClellan.


1SG Daw had cooled down a bit, his teeth less clenched, as the ne'er do well sauntered into his office.  Instead of standing at attention and rendering a salute to her First Sergeant, she plopped down into a chair and asserted:  "I can do any damn thing a man can do!".  Oh my, that got my father riled. I can almost hear the clatter produced by his chair, slamming into the wall as he abruptly stood up, propelling it forcefully rearward.  He issued the challenge:  "OK, stand up and piss across this desk!".  Those fiery eyes and furrowed brow I have personally witnessed over the years come to mind.


This glaring insubordination by a 'soldier' would not be tolerated.  1SG Daw wanted her sent home. He phoned LTC Clark and requested the private's dismissal in view of the obvious disdain for her superiors which was on full display.  "Now, First Sergeant..." she began, "she's a reservist and we must extend more patience and flexibility with them.  Send her to me; I'll straighten her out.".  


About 30 minutes later, 1SG Daw's phone lit up; LTC Clark was on the other end.  Her message was short and sweet:  "Get this bitch out of here!". 


Fort McClellan was tantalizing close to Chattanooga; my father was able to visit at least on every other weekend. I was a full time student attending UTC on a 4 year ROTC scholarship requiring at least one weekend a month in the field.  I also commanded the Color Guard while working full time at Overnite Transportation Company.  I had an apartment close to campus; my time with my mother and sisters was quite limited.  I enjoyed the infrequent visits with my father; his experiences, as part of this unprecedented effort by the military, resulted in some great stories.


His successful implementation of male Drill Instructors for the Women's Army Corps, a crucial requirement for the 'genderless' military Demoncrats have desperately desired for so many years, resulted in a most coveted selection for the United States Army Sergeants Major Academy at Fort Bliss, TX.  The highest rank for a non-commissioned officer, a Sergeant Major, is held with the highest esteem and respect in the Army.  As pointed out previously, Unfavorable Personnel Actions against a SGM require an act of Congress.


I will always remember the racquetball matches my father and I had when he was able to come home on leave from the Academy.  Those long runs in the hot and dry Fort Bliss terrain, where he encountered his first road runner, and physical requirements of the Academy required me to work hard on the court against this forty year old warrior.  I remember dropping a nice defensive shot, pinning him against the back well.  As I scurried to front court position, that blue ball zipped pass me after his powerful shot off the back wall, before dying in the front corner.  "Well played..." I thought.


A common theme...

A common theme while I was a young Army brat up was the ever-growing list of my father's accomplishments.  With SGM Boatwright and SGM Horne a part of my Army training for several years, graduation from the United States Army Sergeants Major Academy continued that theme. I was so proud when I first saw all those stripes on his uniform. But no time to celebrate; my father was selected for a most important assignment.  Reflecting my father's qualifications:  MOS 11 Bravo, a jungle warfare expert with extensive Drill Instructor experience, the Army wanted him to be the next Commandant at the NCO Academy at the nation's premier Jungle Operations Training Center, Fort Sherman, Panama.  This important duty precluded his presence at my graduation and commissioning at UTC.  


That was OK, because the family would be able to see a lot more of the Sergeant Major after his return to CONUS; his last assignment:  an Army advisor to a reserve aviation unit in Jackson, MS, would end his family separation for nearly two years. Coincidentally, my father's boss there was my Assistant Professor of Military Science, Major Frank Stone, while a cadet at UTC; he was now a Lieutenant Colonel.  Life was good for the Daw family.  My incredible mother was able to utilize her recently awarded degree from UTC; she became a staff nurse at the VA hospital in Jackson.  She quickly rose to Head Nurse for the cardiac ward; she was loaded with talent.  With retirement looming after SGM Daw's last assignment in Jackson, my mother looked forward to her return to Hixson.  


The lure of command, however, made Jackson, MS, my father's penultimate assignment.  The Army dangled a promotion to Command Sergeant Major and assignment to Fort Jackson, SC, home of the U.S. Army Drill Sergeant Academy.  He would be the top dog of over 150 Drill Instructors, a feat only a select few have accomplished.  After discussion with his bride, the decision to accept the Army's offer was made; my mother was proud and excited about another move.  (Nurse Daw joined the VA staff in Columbia, again rising to Head Nurse.) Yet another school for Dawn, joining her brother and sister in the tradition of frequently being the "new kid".  She, too, didn't dread another move.  She viewed it as another opportunity to make friends.  What a girl.

A welcome retirement

That tour at Fort Jackson not only placed an exclamation mark on a most remarkable military career, but also revealed to my father the ever changing focus on soldier readiness that was being displaced with something more insidious.  My father was happy his tour was ending at Fort Jackson, as a number of a incidents occurred reflecting the Commanding General's lack of leadership. Two in particular come to mind.  The first is when the General found out that mistletoe was parasitic and instructed his DI's to have their trainees climb trees around Fort Jackson in order to remove it (!).  


Another incident was, after a sudden downpour at Fort Jackson, the General saw a Drill Sergeant whose iconic Drill Sergeant hat had gotten wet, resulting in a slightly bent brim.  My father received a terse phone call from the General; he wanted a formation of his 150 Drill Sergeants at 0500 hours the next day with both of their issued hats. That was not the way to handle such a minor occurrence.    


His commander was much appreciative of the work CSM Daw had performed; his glowing words at his retirement ceremony reflected a bond that warriors have.  They were sincere and made me very proud.  I kept the Banty Rooster restrained, however.  There would time for that later.  My father was justifiably proud of the list of accomplishments on which his commander expounded. The voluminous awards, medals and badges my father received produced a lot of pride in the family. The soldiers there were visibly impressed with that lengthy presentation.  With the Silver Star mention, a buzz spread among the visitors; they recognized the significance of the nation's third highest award.


As proud as I was of that ceremony honoring CSM Daw's career, it was something else his commander said that made me extra proud.  As I was in uniform, an Army captain, I was glad I had a good haircut before travelling to Fort Jackson.  My father's commander specifically pointed out I was a dental officer, yet had a good haircut and properly trimmed moustache.  Dental officers must have set a low bar in his experience.  I am thankful I made my father proud that momentous day.  

United States Army enlisted rank insignia

Some last thoughts on Nikki Haley...

As someone who appreciates a beautiful smile, her dentition is marvelous.  During her tenure as governor of the Palmetto State, my initial impression of her was positive. She was well liked by her constituents; I assumed the conservative principles that had served South Carolina so well for centuries would not let a weasel in the hen house. Having little knowledge of Haley's background, her removal of the Stars and Bars from the State flag, however, unleashed a rancid odor. I smelled a Demoncrat rat.  Only Demoncrats, obsequious "defenders" of blacks, perform such obvious "hate crimes" when Southern heritage is discarded in such a manner.  The very foundation of the Demoncratic party is built on the lie that Republicans and  the South desire slavery again; "white privilege" is a malignancy within our society.

LBJ

Conversely, Republican efforts to end this affront to human decency have been blocked by obstacles placed by the Demoncrats, beginning with Honest Abe. Those obstacles continued with the Demoncrat opposition to the 1964 Civil Rights Act.  LBJ, long hailed as a hero in the war against white oppression, had been an obstinant critic of this legislation.  He fought it tooth and nail.  After the trials and tribulations of his failures in Vietnam (sound familiar, Biden?) resulting in the hippy revolution, domestic issues were piling up.  He finally relented on the 1964 Civil Rights Act, as his involvement with President Kennedy's assassination was becoming examined and his declining popularity dictated there would be no second term. Johnson, the scoundrel he was, wanted to make this a win for Demoncrats, despite their efforts to block such legislation for years.  Even then, the Fourth Estate carried the Demoncrat's water; they always covered this apparent LBJ epiphany as a natural compassionate move for the poor.


"Hell, we'll have them niggers votin' Democrat for two hundred years!" was famously uttered by Johnson.  He then jumped all in. His Great Society was the first assault on American values since the Civil War, where federal evil doers wanted to subjugate the States. Massive welfare programs were implemented with their sights set on blacks.  As a consequence, blacks have been an indispensable part of the Demoncrat party.  No more.  All any person wants is the best for his or her family.  Watching coverage of a conversation in a black barber shop, the theme was "... we had more money with Trump."


  Pragmatism is overcoming so much of the lies of their Demoncrat plantation.

The Wide Awakes

Slavery, present for thousands of years, finally became a thing of the past over a hundred years ago after those courageous initial strides performed by our 16th president.  Another shout-out to the "Wide Awakes".  As the Demoncrats were assaulting Republicans at President Lincoln's events, these youth paramilitary organizations with crude weapons provided security. Asked before, how did the "Wide Awakes" become displaced with the likes of “the woke”? 


Harkening once again to Southern personifications...

My, that evil behavior by the Demoncrats in 1860 has only metastasized to the greatest threat our country has ever faced.  A facet of that danger is, unlike decades of clearly knowing who was perpetuating their vile dogma, such as the hippies in the 1960's, that evil can be veiled, hidden behind a gorgeous smile.  Nikki Haley has clearly dropped the charade with her constant derision of President Trump.  One would think she would be grateful that President Trump gave this ingrate a cushy United Nations (which should be kicked out of the United States) position.  To quote President Trump, she was "OK". 


Immersed in the ultra anti-Semetic and anti-American culture of the United Nations, she was (can't help myself), as my granddaddy would say, "like a pig in s*!t...". 


Nikki Haley was quite comfortable with her roost in this cesspool, surrounded by global elite and haters of the United States who, incidentally, picks up 80 % of the tab.  I have always wondered how we joined a club that gave veto power to Russia and China?


Decades have seen billions of US taxpayer money funding folks who hate us.  More significantly, this has provided nourishment to those evil souls who hate God, Jews and Christians, spread worldwide.  Their unabashed and overt support of Hamas in their massacre of babies on 7 October should dictate that UNWRA, yet another tentacle of the United Notions (as I refer to them:  their notions for world peace, etc., inevitably become another suckling for the teat of the United States...) be designated a 'terrorist organization'.  The United Nations building should be bulldozed and replaced by the HQ of another.  A new organization of allied countries, each of which a part of the synergistic effort to counter China in a collaborative operation with the United States, could stop the Belt and Road Initiative.


The name of this organization is only speculative, but their official theme song could be found in 

 "Team America: World Police".  Just saying. 

How much of Nikki is skin deep?

Peel back the onion and there is the odiferous stench of "woke".  Touting a Judge Judy endorsement is akin to Jeffrey Dahmer endorsing the Impossible Whopper. The "judge" is a long time Demoncrat (as are 95% of lawyers...); she has enjoyed rubbing shoulders with the New Hampshire Trump-hating RINO Sununu. When he made the statement that Tim Scott, an incredible senator from SC who had just endorsed President Trump: "He wouldn't have a job if it wasn't for Nikki."  Another defect in Demoncrats is their ability to sublimate their own universal hypocracy, as evidenced by their lack of self-awareness.  If not for his father, Sununu would be nothing but a "spoiled rich kid", as President Trump referred to him, an appropriate tag for this RINO.  His father, a decent man and chief of staff for President George H. W. Bush earned his deserved reputation.

Junior isn't totally at fault.  I imagine it would be impossible not to have that forever unctuous personality. Osmosis would have allowed it to seep into him from chronic exposure to his peers: spoiled rich kids.  Liberals had conquered New Hampshire; he is merely reflecting his environmental damage.  Deep blue NH reminds me of a tick on my dog's hindquarters.  All his scratching won't detach this blood-sucking parasite; their toxins spread, potentially infecting the whole body...


Speaking of someone being in their position because of an act of another, take a look at Judy.  Judge Wapner paved the way for her and others. Another example of Demoncrat hypocrisy.


An anecdote:


I remember when the trailblazer Judge Wapner was popular in the 1980's.  The People's Court was an immediate success with millions of fans. I recall my mother, a head nurse at the VA hospital in Jackson, MS, with a smile as she shared encounters with a physician with whom she provided services to our veterans.  This man was a talented and quite busy surgeon who would kind of shake his head while indicating to my mother his mild envy of his brother, Doug Llewelyn, host for The People's Court.  It seems that this highly accomplished surgeon, the son of physicians, was earning a fraction of the compensation received by his non-physician brother. It was a quite popular show. 


Regarding endorsements for Haley:

At first, I was surprised at Brigadier General Donald Bolduc's endorsement of Haley.  I felt he was above the fray, field officers scrambling for the much-coveted stars of a general officer.  A little recon, however, revealed this RINO (with emphasis, no reflection of his sterling and admirable military career) had sought President Trump's endorsement in his 2020 NH senate run.  The endorsement went to his rival, Corky Messner.  As it turned out, that was a decision the former president came to regret, as Corky morphed into an establishment favorite RINO.


A second run in 2022 didn't garner an endorsement from the former president, as he endorsed no one. The general did, however, defeat Messner and was considered "far right" by the Fourth Estate.  Perhaps the general's endorsement of this "queen of misinformation", AKA a chronic racist liar, can be attributed to that osmotic effect that affects all liberals in their echo chambers.  Inescapable, even the most stalwart can be infected.


As Haley's inevitable embarrassment increases with her futile attempt to wrestle away President Trump's support from his conservative base becomes more apparent, so do her attacks and lies. 


Nikki's facade is cracking...

Like a cornered animal, caution starts to go to the wind; small mistakes and a crack in the facade of "conservative" has become evident.  Wait, the same thing is happening to her fellow Demoncrats; the frequency of "white supremacist" slurs and racial animus is exploding exponentially.  This maelstrom of fear and panic has pulled the cloak back such that everything is exposed:


"From the river to the sea..." chants, once only whispered in secluded gatherings of this manifestly evil culture, now is on full display at "elite universities".  The Demoncrats must enlist their Arab buddies and the coalition of the worst of us.  Burning babies alive - no problem.  Biden, groveling at the Altar of Climate Change, now must "feed the beast" with his announcement of vetoing aid to Israel if they do not suspend their rightful eradication of Hamas.  


Joseph Robinette Biden - what a collection of deeds worthy of centuries of historical retrospect.  Will the genesis of this traitorous activity over decades be revealed?  Follow the money.


  Carter looks super in comparison.  Obama ...  never mind.  


Spidey sense and the "invisible paper grasp"...

Nikki Haley's revelation of her true nature was immediately noticed when my Spidey sense activated; her increased frequency of the "invisible paper grasp", a constant with Demoncrats, was a dead giveaway. Further scrutiny revealed that the frequency of said grasp varied according to her audience. What - a politician who is inconsistent with messaging, as kissing butt is part of the calculus; how can that be?

My observations have noted that, not only have the frequency of her grasping motions increased, but also the quality.  In all fairness, a variety of hand gestures are used by all of us when we speak.  Military training and staff presentations preclude a lot of movement of the hands as soldiers must not be distracted by extraneous movements.  The only hard and fast rule is not to put your hand in your pocket.  A style of presentation develops with the example set by Senior ROTC instructors or senior personnel in the Army.


Haley cannot resist the innate instinct to start "handing out paper".  Her suppression of those desires have been well balanced.  Up to now. The ongoing savaging of President Trump is only to help the Demoncrats; her outrageous assertions, unprovable, only serve to diminish her.  At any rate, when interviewed by CNN - the Communist News Network, formerly known as the Clinton News Network, she really gets those arms, wrists and elbows going.  The subtle grasping at first is soon followed by a pumping motion, much like I used to use when priming my great grandmother's water pump.  Realizing her almost frenzied pumping of the arm was a little ostentatious, the pumping slowed with an increase in the mechanics of her grasp.  This grasp became more like the "OK" sign.  A well-defined grasp and rhythmic pumping could only suffice for so long.  CNN brought out the best of Haley; the increased sucking up to Haley and their blasting of Trump found our wolf in sheep's clothing using both arms!

Yes, Martha, BOTH arms.

Yes, Martha, BOTH arms.  That reminded me of my ascension from the depths of the UTC pool as part of Combat Water Survival Training. 

In sharp contrast, interviews on Fox find her with remarkable restraint.  Yes a few slips occur, but no double pumping. Very aware of her audience, she pretzels herself backstabbing President Trump while still appearing conservative.  She presents herself well with great self restraint.

Overt lies...

Her unfounded and untrue assertions about race I find particularly disturbing. I am quite dubious about her claim of rejection in some beauty contest.


 Poor poor pitiful me:


https://www.nbcnews.com/meet-the-press/video/nikki-haley-i-know-the-hardships-the-pain-that-comes-with-racism-201419845979


 I am quite certain, on the other hand, that her experience in the "deep South", as she puts it, did not include being the victim of racial slurs.  With Demoncrats, victimhood, being a woman and, stretching it, a person of color all provide armor for this liar. I was born in North Carolina, a bastion of the KKK; despite accounts of cross burning and the like which I had heard all my life, my observation as a boy was that they were providing a social service:  counselling sessions with deadbeat dads and wife beaters. 


This included lessons in close-order knuckle drill for those wife beaters.  A variety of remedies were found for children abusers and drunks.  No one in my family were members; I was never cautioned about associating with blacks.  My hard-working mother and father enlisted the aid of a dear black lady who watched their 5 year old son and baby girl.  Denise and I were blessed to have this delightful and funny lady in our lives.  I was pretty self sufficient, but my baby sister required a loving touch that doesn't have to come from her own family. Baby Denise was always attended to in a motherly fashion.  I remember sometimes finding soaking diapers in the commode; she never wore a dirty diaper.



An unforgettable figure in my life...

This wonderful lady would read to Denise and let me read to her, as well.  She had dinner with us on occasion; we did the same at her home.  No racial animosity - only love for each other.  Further, as a student in eight different schools spread across five states and the Pacific Ocean, I never saw any of the crap Nikki Haley is spewing. Attending mostly schools located on Army posts, racism just wasn't evident.  The only time I remember a name associated with race was my good friend in the second grade at Fort Carson, Blackie.  


Yes, Martha, Blackie.

This was not a perjorative; had it been so, an alternate nickname would have been used.  One constant while growing up:  the playground was the ultimate pleasure; it was not to be messed with.  Friendship was paramount, as we all were from disparate backgrounds and would soon be parting ways.  That inevitability furthered the bond we had with each other.  I distinctly remember Blackie’s big smile, always happy.  


By the way, I was "cracker".


When my father was sent to combat in Vietnam, we moved to North Carolina for my 7th and 8th grades.  One of my girlfriends did have a member of the Klan in her family; her grandfather was Robert Jones, Grand Dragon of the North Carolina Knights of the Ku Klux Klan.  I never sensed she had any racial issues while holding her hand during those still-remembered walks around the playground during recess.  We both had black friends there.        


The answer...

Let's keep God in our corner; His help is going be necessary.  Maybe Jesus will come and perform an exorcism on the Demoncrats as He did with the pigs in the Bible...


Copyright © 2025 DENNIS KEITH DAW, DDS - All Rights Reserved.

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