The Days Forward

West Point Class of 1969

Suzanne Rice

Pro Deo et Patria – Country – 2021

Of the three hallowed words that comprise our beloved motto, I would in this article like to write about “Country” and what that word means to me.

I have always thought that I lived one of the most blessed childhoods that any kid could ever want.  Though to me I was simply living the only life I knew, yet it was in many ways magical and surreal.  That’s because I was born into and raised in the Army.  I was born in Fort Benning, Georgia, and raised mostly in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, with overseas stints in Panama and Okinawa.  From 1954 to 1957, we lived in Fort Gulick in the Canal Zone in Panama … and for an eight-, nine- and ten-year-old, it was a fantastic place to live.  We lived in a nice house on a corner lot and across the street in front of my house was a jungle with wild banana trees and vines to swing on and iguanas to chase.

Jungle with Banana Trees (photo by Kelley Rees CostaRicaDailyPhoto.com)
An Iguana to Chase (Dave-CostaRicaDailyPhoto.com)

And across the street next to my house was the post theater with free cartoons every Saturday morning.  And then a block away behind our house was the post swimming pool.  Oh, and beyond the jungle was Gatun Lake, which at the time was purported to be the largest man-made lake in the world.  It was, simply put, a glorious place to live.

Arrow marks where Ray Lived (courtesy of Bill Roddy)

You might at this point in my story wonder what any of that has to do with the subject of Country; to me it had everything to do with it.  How it happened I don’t really know but for as long as I can remember I always seemed to understand that the life that I was blessed to live was a result of the simple fact that my dad was a soldier in the United States Army.  I understood that he was serving our country and I had this sense that what he was doing was a wonderful thing.

I think that one of the things that helped to instill these kinds of thoughts in me were the periodic trips that our family would make back to my father’s hometown in Connecticut.  Plainfield was a small little mill town in Eastern Connecticut that simply was no match for some of the sights that I saw growing up.  And although I absolutely loved our visits with my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, I knew that I was blessed that my dad had chosen to stay in the Army after World War II rather than return to Plainfield.  I loved my life, and I loved the United States of America for making my life possible.

One of my most poignant memories as a child occurred at 5:30pm when the evening cannon would go off signifying that it was time to bring the flag down at the end of the day.  We did not always live close enough to hear it routinely, but sometimes we were nearby when it happened and the impression of what would happen then has stayed with me for a lifetime.  Wherever you were and whatever you were doing you had to stand at attention with your hand over your heart and wait until the last note of the bugle faded away.  Even if you were riding in a car, the car would stop and everyone would get out and face the direction of the flag and pay your respects.  My fondest memory of such times was when we would be playing Little League games at the ball fields on the huge parade ground in the center of Fort Bragg.  All the games would stop and everyone … players, coaches, umpires and spectators would all pay their proper respects to our flag.  As a child I think these memories did more to instill a sense of patriotism in me then perhaps anything else.

The culmination of my childhood sense of patriotism probably occurred at the end of our first day at West Point on July 1, 1965.  My decision to attend West Point was embedded in me sometime around the age of ten or eleven or twelve.  From that time on, I made it my goal to pursue being an Army officer like my dad.  He had not gone to the Academy, but he had told me that if I truly wanted to be an Army officer than that was the only way to go.  No other way was better as far as he was concerned.  So, when we raised our right hands out on Trophy Point and swore our allegiance to the Constitution and to our Country, it was for me the culmination of a childhood dream.  A dream that the United States of America had made possible.

It was probably through reading the Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn which impressed me with the concept of the Mississippi River as being something special.  Or maybe it was one of the many movies that I went to in the post theater across the street from my house in Panama.  How ever it happened as a child growing up, to me the Mississippi River meant something very special. It was sort of the dividing line in the middle of our great country which divided the East from the West.  And I remember how entranced I was when I realized at the age of 29 that I was going to actually literally be crossing the Mississippi for the very first time.  It was in the Spring of 1975 when I was traveling with my wife from Vermont to Texas to visit Dallas where I would be attending seminary in the Fall to study for the ministry.  Since that first time I have probably crossed it a half a dozen times since, but every time I am thrilled at the prospect.  The thrill I get is not just because it is so immense, but also because to me the Mississippi is that long thread from North to South that binds our Country together.

The Mississippi River and its Tributaries Bind the Country Together (courtesy of the National Park Service)

The final vignette which speaks of Country to me flows out of my trip that I made in July 2018 to honor our classmates who fell in Vietnam.  It occurred while I was doing a recon of the Fort Snelling National Cemetery in South Minneapolis, Minnesota.  The cemetery is quite large and quite beautiful with well over 200,000 graves in it.  You would think that being as large as it was that it has have some rough spots here and there … but it was in fact meticulously maintained.  I was so struck by its size that I drove around and took pictures from several different vantage points.  Each picture that I took contains row upon row of graves as far as the eye can see, and none of the graves are duplicates in any of the pictures.  Each picture is a completely separate scene.                                           

Views of Fort Snelling, MN (courtesy of Ray Dupere)

I remember at one point in my tour I was quite moved to be in the presence of so many veterans’ graves.  I also felt a great sense of patriotic pride as I looked around at the wonderful effort that we as a country put into remembering our fallen heroes.

“Country” to me is not just one thing but many things.  It is our flag and it is our land.  It is our history and it is our people.  It is our founding fathers, and it is our future.  It is our hopes and our dreams and our sense of being.  It is simply put, the United States of America, the greatest country that has ever been thus far in the history of mankind upon this earth.

Honor: The Role of Honor – 2011

Once each year during the holidays, the Societies of all the Service Academies in the Greater Kansas City area sponsor a formal dinner in Kansas City to celebrate the cadets and midshipmen from Western Missouri and Eastern Kansas. Cadets, midshipmen, dates, and families attend. Attendance is always good.

I was fortunate to have been in the Kansas City business community and the civic community for some time. I was asked to be the keynote speaker at the 2011 event, and to discuss the role of an academy experience in the development of honorable leaders. I made a study of it to add more impact. Here is the outcome:

     “Good evening and thank you for inviting me. It is always an honor to be among great Americans and great Americans to be. And that is the topic that I have been asked to speak about…specifically, what is it about an Academy experience that positions you to become great Americans? And what will motivate you to truly achieve throughout your career, regardless of your chosen field?

     Tonight, I am going to share with you the wisdom of many great and accomplished graduates. Let’s talk about how an Academy experience sets you apart as you pursue your career, whatever that career might be.

     When I began to prepare for this talk, I quickly realized that I am just one person with just one journey. I did not believe that my input alone was good enough for tonight. And so, I went to graduates of all the Academies, and I focused on prominent general officers, surgeons, lawyers, CEO’s, astronauts, entrepreneurs, authors, actors, congressmen and congresswomen, ambassadors, coaches, university presidents, and many more.

     The very fact that people like Roger Staubach, Mike Krzyzewski, General Wesley Clark, General Scott Wallace, the Chairman of the Board of Johnson & Johnson, the CEO of General Motors, the CEO of 7-11, the Chairman of Comfort Systems, and many others WANTED to share their lessons and perspectives speaks volumes about the importance of the message we have for you.

  • General Scott Wallace (USMA 1969)
  • General Wesley Clark (USMA 1966)
  • Coach K (USMA 1969)
  • Roger Staubach (USMA 1965)

     Once I had inputs from prominent graduates, I sorted them into common themes. Surprisingly, there were but nine themes that came through. Some will not surprise you. But as we move through them, I believe that you will be surprised, even moved, by what you learn tonight.

     So here are the collective thoughts on the truly significant things an Academy experience gives you:

  1. Discipline and the ability to prioritize. You made it this far, so you understand discipline and prioritizing already. It will matter throughout your life.
  2. A strong sense of teamwork. Let me explain ‘strong sense of teamwork’. I struggled in chemistry. A classmate of mine stayed up all night before the final to help prepare me to pass. He was a contender for the top position in rank order of merit academically and could justify studying for himself. Instead, he stayed up all night with me helping me to prepare.
  3. How to assess situations and make good, honorable decisions.
  4. How to genuinely listen to people…superiors, peers, and subordinates. Too many people never learn to listen to subordinates.
  5.  You are learning how and when to lead.
  6. You are learning how and when to follow.
  7. You are learning how to maintain your poise and values in difficult situations.
  8.  You are gaining a deep insight into yourself and what you are capable of.
  9.  And finally, and perhaps most important, you are learning lessons in honor and leadership, to include the ability to motivate people to act for the love of accomplishment, the love of the team, or love of Country. NOT LOVE OF MONEY! You are learning leadership with honor, the truest form of leadership.         

      These attributes that you are gaining have great value for you and the people around you. They create trust and respect that are fundamental to great teams.

      Keep in mind, too, that your development is a 2-part process. First, you gain these important attributes at the Academy. Then, you serve in the Military, where you are given great and challenging leadership responsibilities very quickly. It is the military experience that hones your attributes and builds your courage about accepting responsibility and making honorable decisions.

     But having these unique and wonderful attributes and leadership experiences is only a portion of the final equation for you. To achieve great things, to be a great American, you must have the drive to achieve throughout your lifetime.

     What you probably least recognize about what you are experiencing at the Academy is that you are being shaped by the integrity, the honor, and the drive of the people around you.

     Every day you are surrounded by great individual leaders, famous visitors, upperclassmen and women who excel, and great young professors who themselves have your attributes. Consider this, the young officers who taught me at West Point included Major Pete Dawkins (Heisman Trophy winner), Major Norman Schwarzkopf (Commander, Operation Desert Storm), Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Haig (U.S. Secretary of State), and Specialist 4th Class Arthur Ashe (Tennis Grand Slam winner). And you are surrounded by similar talent, advancing on their respective journeys.

  • Arthur Ashe
  • Alexander Haig
  • Norman Schwarzkopf
  • Pete Dawkins

     Just the singular honor and dignity of being a cadet or midshipman in these environments is shaping you and your drive. YOUR PHILOSOPHY FOR LIFE IS BEING INFLUENCED RIGHT NOW BY THE VALUES AND INTEGRITY OF THE PEOPLE WHO SURROUND YOU. And most important in that group, especially after you graduate, is your bond with your classmates. As they go forward and achieve, so too, will you, because you are bonded, and you all have the power of honor and integrity within you.

     I recall like it was yesterday being at one of my reunions. We had gone off post for a casual dinner dance. Our class band was playing our class song and we were all out on the dance floor going nuts like we were still cadets. I looked this way and saw a classmate who was a veteran astronaut; I looked that way and saw the Ambassador to Germany… the same man who had just negotiated the end to the first Iraq War; and I look over this way and see one of the first Dot.com billionaires; and over here I see the head basketball coach from Duke. Besides these classmates, I see many who are advancing fast in their military careers, and in other careers. Believe me, the honor and the motivation you feel at the Academy only grows within you as you get older, and everyone’s responsibilities grow.

     By the way, our class song was the Animals hit “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”. Our class band, “B. Arnold and the Traitors”, still plays at all of our reunions. So, my class was no less irreverent or playful than your class might be today.

B. Arnold and the Traitors at Camp Buckner 1966 (courtesy of Chris Sauter)

     I leave you with one last piece of wisdom; something that has helped guide me several times in my career. You will go on from your Academy experience to do great and wonderful things. But you will also be different from some of the other people you encounter. You will meet people whose motives are not driven by honor or integrity or choosing the harder right over the easier wrong. Often, it will be you who is in the arena fighting to make something good happen when these critics come along. I’d like to share an excerpt from a famous speech by President Teddy Roosevelt. The speech is about the man in the arena. It goes like this:

     “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles; or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who knows great enthusiasms; who spends himself in a worthy cause”.

     There will be times in your career when you see greed, or ego, or questionable practices. Stick to your values and protect your honor. They are, after all, what define you, what motivate you, what make you exceptional in the eyes of others, and what bond you to all Academy graduates.

     Teddy Roosevelt, later in his speech about the man in the arena says this:

      “There is little use for the being whose tepid soul knows nothing of great and generous emotion; of the high pride, the stern belief, the lofty enthusiasm of the men [and women] who quell the storm and ride the thunder”.

     Ladies and Gentlemen, be true to your honor and your values; be true to your bond to all of us who have gone before you; and be especially true to your classmates and your family. And go forth with confidence as you ‘quell the storm and ride the thunder’.

     Thank you again and Godspeed to each and every one of you.” 1415 words

Duty: Rwanda – 1994


McDonough, DUTY:  RWANDA 1994

     I had been granted the opportunity to command at brigade level late in my career, something I had aspired to for some time.  But it would not be of a standing brigade already on the rolls.  Instead, it would be a brigade I would have to build from scratch, gathering people, units, and materiel from parts of a dwindling American Army presence in Europe in the aftermath of the Cold War and the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact and the Soviet Union.  It would eventually become the reflagged 173rd Airborne Brigade, a storied outfit whose flag was retired after withdrawal from Vietnam in 1971.  But that could not be known at the time (but it was an objective I had in mind from the start).  Although the assignment would mean dislocation and separation from my family for a while, I eagerly accepted (with my wife Pat’s support) and took on the duties of command.

     Those duties came swiftly, for even as we were forming in northern Italy, the brigade (originally dubbed the “Lion Brigade” since we were near to Venice) was tasked to be the rapid reaction force for much of Eastern Europe and Africa and parts of the Middle East.  At that time (late ’93, early ’94) the Balkans were heating up while much of the remainder of our AO (area of operations) remained in turmoil.  So even as we built our organization, we had to be ready to move and operate quickly with whatever we had at the moment (and we did have some crack units, like the 3rd/325 Airborne Combat Team, from the get-go).  Operationally, the task was to consider where we might have to go and train for a variety of mission-types if so committed. The dilemma was that there were so many diverse likelihoods of place and mission, we could not possibly train for them all.  The solution was to contemplate a very difficult one and train for that one, hoping that if any others broke, we could handle them in stride.  Ironically, as it turned out, I decided in February of 1994 that Rwanda would be a particularly hard nut to crack, given its remoteness and complexity.  So, we conceptualized an evacuation of Americans under duress and trained, rehearsed, and wrote a plan for such a mission.

Rwanda – A Long Way from Italy (Berkeley.edu)
Rwanda – A Long Way from Italy

     On April 6th, a scenario in that country unfolded that we had not expected – a horror show that became the worst genocide of the last decades of the 20th Century, one that would see one ethnic group (Hutu) murder another ethnic group (Tutsi) at the rate of 10,000 a day through the spring and summer of 1994.  With little clarity of what was happening, I reported up through the chain of command that we were ready to commit if called upon.  But the United States was not interested in getting involved, so we continued to build and train for other contingencies (of which there were no shortages).

     By July, it was getting harder for the world to deny that a genocide was in progress.  But a U. S. reaction was only precipitated by news coverage of the resulting cholera epidemic in nearby Goma, Zaire, one of 20 or so refugee camps of Hutus who had fled Rwanda in the wake of the civil war then raging alongside the genocide.  So, we were alerted and, after a few days of uncertainty, committed to Central Africa.

     An infantry company and support units were sent into Goma (along with the general commanding the Southern European Task Force, SETAF, Major General Jack Nix, my immediate superior); CNN was in Goma by that time, so much attention was focused there.  The airborne battalion (minus) was staged in Entebbe, Uganda as a backup force (under command of LTC Mike Scaparrotti, USMA 1978, later SACEUR — Supreme Allied Commander, Europe as a four-star general), and the Brigade (minus detached elements) itself went into Kigali, Rwanda, staged at its largely destroyed national airport.  Overall commander of the effort was the Deputy Commander of the United States Army Europe, LTG Dan Schroeder, also based in Entebbe.

              

AOR (Area of Operation) for the Lion Brigade

     Overall, it was a clean distribution of forces, but even as we boarded the planes in Aviano, Italy, the mission was unclear and the intelligence of conditions on the ground almost non-existent.  Somewhere over the Sahara, I received a static-laden call from an unidentified speaker into the cockpit of the C-141 that was trying hard to give me the latest iteration of both, all to no avail.  In a final desperate attempt to give guidance, three words came through clearly – “Stop…the…dying.”  That was good enough and that became our duty.

     The mission was apropos.  Dying was everywhere.  In Goma alone, five thousand died from cholera within the first day of our arrival, the survivors standing beside the decomposing bodies in Lake Kivu, drinking the cholera-infested waters (a practice we immediately put a stop to as we sought a way to have the dead buried and the water purified).  In Kigali and elsewhere in Rwanda, it at first seemed as if nobody was alive, save warring military foes advancing or retreating and a skeletal UN peace-keeping force holed up in its headquarters beside a major killing-field intersection in the city.  Indeed, everything seemed dead, to include all livestock and all crops in the field.  Everything was in ruin – the electrical grid, the water systems, the abandoned hospitals, communications systems, banking systems, etc.  Land mines were ubiquitous.  Bodies were everywhere, almost all of them defiled by machete, bludgeon, or fire (the official count was 800,000; I believe it was closer to a million).  The rivers were so stuffed with corpses that they created natural dams at bends or other constrictions in the water.  It could not have been bleaker.

Destroyed Rwandan Church, Site of a Massacre (Design Indaba)

There were survivors and bit by bit they emerged from hiding, some from the marshes, others from the bush (forests), some from cisterns, some from places so vile they beggar description.  All had needs, most of them extreme – water, food, medicines, shelter.  The mission remained:  Stop the dying.  How and what to prioritize was itself a priority.  Who gets the water we brought in with us?  How do we get the airport up and running?  What power grid do you restore first?  What do we fly in and in what order, or how do we clear roads to let trucks get in?  Where do you bury the dead?  How do you off-load the large transport planes coming in (soon at a rate of 50+ a day)?  What orders do you follow when they conflict with one another (and there was plenty of that, some with escalated risk if obeyed or not obeyed)?  As you find survivors and put them to work, what wages do you pay them (we had suitcases of money for that, essentially creating an economy)?  How do you protect your troops?  How do you hold the airport if attacked?  Where do you apply your medical detachments yet keep them safe from attack and from disease (over 50 % of those we treated had HIV infection)?  What side in the civil war do you support (eventually it was the Tutsi dominant Rwandan Patriotic Front)?  How do we protect VIPs as they arrive once they believe it is safe to do so?  Who do you work with and how – UN officials/peacekeeping units, non-government organizations (NGOs), orphans (about 700,000 Tutsi children were orphaned), other militaries (French, Belgian, Australian, many others), returning ambassadors and their staffs, the press, religious leaders (some who may have been complacent in the genocide) and so on?

            Such is the nature of duty.  The definition is easy, the fulfillment of it complex.  In Rwanda and the surrounding areas, we did the best we could and with the support of many others believe we collectively made a significant impact for the better.  We didn’t ‘stop the dying’, but we did slow it and gradually improved upon that and then even more.

            So many years ago, as a cadet at West Point, I had envisioned duty as clear and straight-forward.  Some higher authority would tell me what I was to do, and I would do it.  By the time I served in Vietnam soon after graduation, I came to understand it was more complex than that.  By the time I served in Rwanda, I began to understand more fully the disparate pulls as one tries to see what duty demands of you.  I had entered this part of my military career with the expectation that when committed to operations, tactics would dictate the courses of action to undertake as I looked to fulfill missions while taking care of soldiers.  Some of that would lie ahead, but in this instance the full weight of doing one’s duty came to light.  Perhaps that is why it stands first in order of those three key words, ‘Duty, Honor, Country.”

Technology – 2020

     Before 2020, if anyone had asked me what I might miss most if I were stranded on a deserted island, I would not have thought my answer would be technology.  Tea, chocolate, a good book, Duct tape even would have been a more likely response. Certainly, not something I have in the past found challenging at best.

     Since we have all been so confined this past year, I realize that Zoom, has become many people’s window to the world, including mine. I have discovered that my phone and iPad have been a great source of intellectual stimulation and social contact. I have taken art classes from Texas and Florida, joined a Photography club from Massachusetts, attended book club meetings and church services and regularly meet with family on the East Coast for three hours every Sunday.  Even though my children live close by, in the spirit of social distancing, we have even celebrated holidays via Zoom.

A Zoom Meeting

I have learned the proper protocol for attending said meetings such as self-mute when not intending to speak, especially if you have three dogs. If you need to be checked in by the group monitor, you need to provide a name other than iPad. You should wear the proper attire since you never know when you have hit the wrong button and can be seen when not intending to be!

While watching news interviews this past year, I have learned the importance of aiming the camera at something pleasant to look at in the room like plants or a bookshelf.

     Zoom use to be a noise that you made when entertaining a small child playing with a toy car. Now, its new meaning has become a way of life.  As a result, when I realized that my iPad was at least ten years old and no longer capable of accepting updates and my phone now struggling to hold a charge, was at least seven years old, I decided to replace them. Normally I would have gone to the Apple store or my phone service provider and bought what I needed and had them set everything up for me.  This is not an area where I am at all skilled.

Cindy’s Old iPhone (Apple)

     When I called my cell phone provider, the computer that answered the call informed me that in keeping with the new business practices that have become necessary this year, there would not be a person to answer this call and I should go to my computer to make an appointment. After two unsuccessful attempts to find anything other than how to update my service and things to buy that I was not at all sure I needed, I decided to put off my quest to make an appointment and focus on getting the needed equipment instead.

     I called the Apple store which is a distance from my home and had everything sent. I ordered a new phone, iPad and everything needed to protect them, a case, screen protector, insurance, I was going to do this right because I might not do this again for another seven to ten years.

     One morning, I had taken the dogs to the groomer, the house was quiet, and I decided to try yet again to find the elusive prompt on the web site that would allow me to make an appointment with my cell provider.  Now that I had my new equipment, I was anxious to get it working.

I sat down at my desk, cup of tea in hand and decided to give it twenty minutes of effort while I sipped.  My late husband who was ever supportive used to say to our daughters and me no matter what the task, “you’ve got this.  You can do this.” Because he believed in us so much, we believed in ourselves. So, with that same “can do” attitude, I was determined.

       About fifteen minutes into my search there was still no magic button, but I did find a telephone number for technical service. I called and the computer that answered the phone proceeded to list a variety of things that I might need help with, none of which were what I was calling about.  To the company’s credit, I was not stuck in a loop with no way-out.  When the computer was at the end of its capabilities to help, it said “stay on the line and someone will be with you shortly.” Perhaps, this was in fact, what posed for the magic button I was seeking. I was surprised and relieved when an actual person eventually came on the line.  They seem few and far between these days.  He asked why I was calling, and I explained that I had a new phone and was trying to get an appointment to get it set up and I had trouble navigating their web site.  He said I will help you.  The in-store technicians would have to call me anyway for assistance.

     I said no, this is not an area I have any knowledge in.  He said we will do this together I’m sure it will be fine. It will not take very long “You can do this.” Just like the famous line from the movie, “You had me at hello” he had me at you can do this. 

      He explained that he was not as familiar with Apple phones as he was with some of the others but let’s get started, he said cheerfully.  I was instructed to look in the box my phone came in and find a tool that resembled a paperclip.

Tool Like a Paperclip (RM Downey)

I found it and was told to locate the hole into which the tool was to be inserted. He thought it might be on the left side of the phone.  There was no hole on that side, but I located one on the right that appeared to trigger a small door. Still not entirely convinced that this was something I should be tackling, I continued to fiddle with the tool when suddenly the little door flew open and like a Genie coming out of a bottle the SIM card flew out and wafted to the floor. As I bent over to retrieve it, my office chair, which is on wheels, began to back up right for it.

“Oh expletive&%#!!!!! expletive&%#!!!!”

     Paused on the brink of absolute destruction, the chair stopped moving just in time and I was able to retrieve this minuscule piece of technology before it met with a terrible fate.  Since my head was under the desk, I truly hoped he had not heard my outburst.  I have after all spent the last year learning proper etiquette for encounters with people not actually in my home. 

     As I righted myself and regained my composure I said, “I have it. What would you like me to do with it?”  The man said, “I would like you to read the numbers on it for me.”

      I know that at some point in my life I may have been able to see the numbers on something that small but that has not been in many years.  Becoming increasingly more flustered and not at all sure that this was a good idea, I said to him calmly, “Would you mind if I get a magnifying glass?”  He said, “Oh, of course, take your time.” When I returned, I read him the number and was amazed at the information stored on something so tiny.   He instructed me to replace my SIM card to its rightful place.

     Not wanting to sound totally ignorant but wanting to move the process along I asked if there was a certain way it went back in since I did not see it before it took flight and landed on the floor.  He assured me there was only one way to reinsert it. With magnifier in hand, I discovered that in fact, the corners were shaped differently so that even a neophyte like me could not make a mistake.

Little SIM Card Ready to Insert (Ifixit)

     We proceeded on and my confidence was beginning to build until he asked me to plug the phone in.  It was then I discovered that the cube that allows the device to be plugged into the wall was not included with the new phone. The old one I was prepared to use didn’t fit.  There had been some design changes in the past seven years. 

     When I opened the iPad box, I discovered a cube which would fit both devices.  Hallelujah!! that problem was remedied.

New Plug (pintote)

We proceeded on and for about the next twenty-five minutes all went well until we hit a snag.  The otherwise calm voice on the other end of the phone seemed a bit perplexed.  He said, “May I put you on hold? When I come back, I will have an Apple representative on the line with us and we will fix the problem.”

     Being put on hold gives one time to ponder the great mysteries of the world. For instance, was the Holy Grail tiny like a SIM card and perhaps not really hidden but overlooked for centuries? Or if the person who has just put me on hold is having a coffee or restroom break. I could use one of those myself.

     The sound of a woman’s voice and my technicians as they returned to the line, brought me out of my revery.  She introduced herself as an Apple technician and said, “I would like you to undo everything you have done.”  That was not what I wanted to hear but as per her instructions, I did exactly that and now we were back to where we started.  Going forward, I followed her instructions to the letter.  Eventually she said, “We are at the last step.” The three of us were quite relieved, we were nearing success. How long had we been at this?

     “Enter your Apple ID” she said.  As I hesitated, she asked if I had forgotten it. I said yes. Since we were all seemingly on the same team trying to bring this to a successful conclusion, I said, “Can you tell me what it might be?”  She said “No, but I can send it to you.” Ok?? 

     When it arrived, I meticulously entered it so there would be no mistake and I would finally have reached the goal. The phone refused to accept it.  The woman said abruptly, “You have a defective phone. You will have to return it to the store.”  She promptly left the line.  I was left with my technician who was so sure in the beginning we could do this that eventually he had even assuaged my fears.

     Apologizing, we prepared to end the call. Suddenly, an eerie sound began to emanate from the new phone that had just been pronounced DOA.  It was ringing! The man said “Did your phone just ring?”  I said, “Yes.  Did you cause that to happen?” He said, “No; perhaps you should answer it.”  I picked up the phone poked at the still dark screen and said “Helloooo.”

      “Hi. This is the groomer. Just wanted you to know the dogs are ready.”  Reality had set in, and I realized it had been two and a half hours since I had originally sat down with my cup of tea.  I felt like my head was in a vice and I had the urge to put my head back under the desk, my new-found sanctuary, and scream.  Instead, I thanked the man who was truly a credit to his company and said goodbye.

    A few days later my son-in-law who I could not love more if he were my own and who knows all of my faults as well as all of my passwords, found the problem with my phone.  Apple had given me an obsolete password during set up. Although my confidence was shaken, I actually could have done this and almost had.  All in all, the experience taught me that for the next time, if there ever is a next time, I’ve got this!  

Nick’s FARRP #13 – The Military Services – 1978

The “Tales from Nick’s FARRP” series are a fictionalized version of real events and are dedicated to the memory of friends and classmates from the Class of 1969.

“So, Kenny, have you ever done anything with any other military branches?”    

*     *     *     *     *     *

I was talking with an Army guy sitting on a barstool across from me in my bar, named Nick’s FARRP, in Fayetteville, North Carolina.  Captain Kenny Wayne has told me lots of stories about his time as a paratrooper here at Fort Bragg, just outside town.  My Uncle Nick, who served three tours as a combat helicopter pilot in Vietnam, opened this bar, the FARRP, after he had to leave the Army because of cancers he got from some chemical over there.  When he finally died, he left his bar to me.  My name, by the way, is Gil Edwards.  Since I know nothing about the Army, I am always asking questions of the Army guys who hang around here in the FARRP.

*     *     *     *     *     *

“Well, Gil,” began Captain Kenny, after draining his mug of beer, “the first thing is to get the terminology right.  The word ‘branch’ means one of the different career fields in the Army, such as infantry, armor, artillery, or in my case now, engineers.  If you are talking about the other parts of our military forces, the proper term is ‘service.’

“There are three military services:  the Army, the Navy, and the Marine Corps, plus the Air Force, who are almost military.  So that makes four, unless you count the Coast Guard.  They only come under the Department of Defense in wartime, where they serve as part of the Navy.  Coast Guardsmen are taught that their service is ‘that hard nucleus around which the Navy forms in time of war.’

“Hey, Peggy,” Captain Kenny went on, “could you bring me a refill on my beer?”

Miss Peggy is my manager of the FARRP.  She is the widow of an Army helicopter pilot who was a close buddy of my Uncle Nick.  Her husband was shot down on his third tour in Vietnam.  When my uncle opened the bar, he asked Miss Peggy to be his manager.  She actually runs everything here, but at least she lets me hang around, so I can pester these Army guys. 

“It’s kinda confusing,” Captain Kenny continued, “because the civilian oversight of the military services in the Pentagon is organized with three Defense Departments, working under the Secretary of the Army, Secretary of the Navy, and Secretary of the Air Force.  The Department of the Navy oversees the military services of the Navy and the Marine Corps, plus sometimes the Coast Guard.

 

The US Military Services

“So, Gil, I think your question was, have I ever worked with any of the other services?  Thank you very much, Peggy.”

“Right, Kenny,” I responded.  “Sorry about the wrong word.  Have you?”

“Well, Gil, I have made over 60 parachute jumps from Air Force aircraft.  The Air Force works closely with the Army for tactical airlift, including parachute drops, troop and equipment transport and special supplies, as well as close air support from the Air Force fighter guys.  We call them ‘Zoomies.’”

“Gil,” interrupted the stout older guy sitting next to Captain Kenny, the one I knew as Chief Rod Jordan.  “The various services are really different in a lot of ways.  They don’t even speak the same language.  Take a simple word like ‘secure.’ 

“If you tell a sailor to secure a building, he will turn out the lights.  If you tell a soldier to secure a building, he will lock the doors.  If you tell a Marine to secure a building, he will post a platoon on guard around it.  And if you tell a zoomie to secure a building, he will buy you one.” 

“Yeah, Gil,” added a tall Army guy I knew as Major Tony, sitting on the other side of Captain Kenny at the bar.  “Take the machine that pulls a train.  The Army calls that an engine.  The Air Force calls it a locomotive.  And the Marines call it ‘choo choo.’ 

“Or take the helicopters that Chief Rod and I fly.  To the Air Force they are known as ‘rotary wing aircraft.’  Army guys call them ‘choppers.’  To the Navy they are ‘Hee-loes.’  But Marines just point in the air and grunt ‘uhhh.’” 

“Hey, wise ass,” replied Chief Rod.  “Don’t make fun of my Marines.  They have more determination and willingness to sacrifice than any other service.  I flew in support of them during the Tet Offensive in 1968, and they poured out their blood and guts retaking parts of I Corps in Vietnam.  They may do things the hard way, if that is what they are ordered, but guaran-damn-tee they will pay whatever price is required to accomplish their mission.” 

“If you old-timers would allow me to answer the lad’s question, I’ll go on,” resumed Captain Kenny.  “The main time I worked with the Air Force was on my first tour here at Fort Bragg in 1970.  Back then I was an Armor lieutenant assigned to 1-17th Cav, the airborne armored cavalry squadron of the 82nd Airborne Division.  The squadron designated me an Air Movement Officer (AMO), so I attended a two-week course run by the Air Force.  They taught me how to plan and prepare Army units and equipment for deployment on Air Force cargo aircraft, primarily the C-130, a stout four-turbine prop plane with incredible tactical versatility, and the C-141, the four-engine jet cargo plane.

“Our cav squadron had twelve Sheridan light tanks, but there were no training ranges at Fort Bragg large enough for tank gunnery qualification.  So that April our entire squadron deployed by air to Camp Pickett, in south central Virginia, for thirteen days of tank gunnery qualifications. 

“The Sheridan is a very light tank, but it still weighs over 17 tons.  The maximum load for those early model C-130s was 35,000 pounds, almost exactly the weight of our Sheridans.  Because I was AMO qualified, I was supposed to supervise the loading of our tanks, one each on twelve Air Force C-130 aircraft. 

Sheridan Tank loaded in a C-130 (Combat Reform)

“During the AMO course, I had learned how to calculate the dimensions of all the Army vehicles, as well as the clearance dimensions of all the Air Force cargo aircraft.  Checking the technical manuals, I compared the height of a Sheridan’s highest point, the tank commander’s machine gun mount, with the clearance between the back of a C-130 cargo floor and the top of the cargo ramp.  To my astonishment, I found that our tanks were two inches too tall to fit through the C-130 cargo ramp.

“Fearful that our tanks would rip apart the Air Force cargo plane, I rushed up to the Air Force loadmaster who was supervising the first Sheridan getting loaded into the aircraft.  Breathlessly, I told him the tank was two inches too high to fit into the C-130.  The loadmaster replied, ‘Thank you very much, lieutenant,’ and continued directing the tank up the cargo ramp into his bird.

“In fear that the steel machine gun mount would rip apart the aluminum C-130, I watched the tank slowly climbing the rear loading ramp.  As my tank continued up the ramp and began to cross the point where the angled ramp meets the flat cargo floor, the road wheels of the tank track compressed about three inches.  With almost no room to spare, the tank cleared the ramp and proceeded into the aircraft.  Completely chagrinned, I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the loading operation.

“When all twelve C-130s had been loaded with our tanks, they began to take off.  With the Air Force crew members plus the tank drivers and their gear on board, the cargo aircraft were actually loaded slightly heavier their legal rating.  Each aircraft used every foot of the Pope AFB runway trying to get aloft, and they barely cleared the fence at the base boundary as they struggled to gain altitude.

“In those days the Air Force was just starting to receive the gigantic cargo jet called the C-5A.  One was assigned here for the ACE Board to develop Army jump procedures for the aircraft.” 

“Wait a minute, Kenny,” I interrupted.  “What does ‘ACE Board’ mean?” 

“That’s Airborne and Communications Electronics Board, a special Army organization located at Pope AFB, just on the other side of Fort Bragg.  Their job is to develop Army doctrine for working with new Air Force equipment.  Every type of cargo aircraft that comes into the Air Force is required to be certified for Army parachute operations.

“Most of our troop training and tactical jumps are from the C-130.  To jump from the -130, troops are taught to vigorously jump ‘up and out’ of the side doors, so they will clear the tail of the airplane before their parachutes deploy.  It is usually a pretty rough exit.

C-130 (af.mil)

“But jumping from the Air Force cargo jet, the Lockheed C-141, is totally different.  The -141 has a blast deflector in front of the jump door, so it requires a weak exit.  You simply step out the door and drop.  It is the most beautiful jump in the world. 

C-141 (Cees Hendricks)

“When Lockheed designed the C-5, they used exactly the same jump door as the C-141 had:  same dimensions, same blast deflector, measured exactly the same distance back from the nose.  When the ACE Board began jump testing the C-5A, to be safe they started with dummies.  They put the test dummies out the door with a weak exit, the same that works so well with the C-141.  Trouble is, the C-5 is way longer than the -141, so with the jump doors so far forward, the dummies smashed all the way down the side of the aircraft, ‘bam-bam-bam-bam.’  Live jumpers weren’t going to like that very much.

“So next they tried the vigorous ‘up and out’ exit required for the Lockheed C-130.  The dummies were ejected directly into the jet blast of the huge turbofan engines of the C-5, where they and their parachutes were incinerated.  That wasn’t going to work either.

“After months of unsuccessful testing, the ACE Board decided to use a half-and-half technique, a weak-vigorous exit.  This time, the dummies were sucked into the jet blast, where they were incinerated, then flung back against the side of C-5, where they left flaming scorch marks as they went ‘bam-bam-bam-bam’ all the way back.

C-5 (military aviation review)

“Finally, the ACE Board gave up using the jump doors.  They got some Green Beanies from 6th and 7th Special Forces Groups to jump one time from the tailgate of the giant bird.  Trouble there was that the C-5 was never designed to have the tailgate open during flight, so the aircraft became highly unstable. 

“The Air Force screamed they would never allow that again, but the ACE Board replied, “Never mind.  We accomplished our mission, which was to jump-qualify the C-5 with live jumpers.  Now we will never jump the damned bird again.”

In memory of Bill and Terry and Eddie and Jerry