This Memorial day let's remember the hero's that have given us our freedom!
It will soon be Memorial day, a day that will find us firing up the grill, popping a cold one, and enjoying the kid's, and grand kids, and well it should be.
But this year won't you join me in remembering those that gave the last full measure of devotion to our country, those that will not be there at the table this year, those who forever will remain in our hearts, as young, vibrant kid's that went willingly to protect this great Nation?
Growing up in the 40/50's, my friends, and I played at war with surplus equipment that was so available at the time. Then came the 60's, I enlisted in the NAVY, so did my close friend (from across the street) LT. (jg) James Zavocki. I was a second class petty officer at the time, and served aboard an aircraft carrier (USS Bennington,)as an air crewman. "Jimmy" served aboard another carrier (USS Oriskiny,) as a R.E.O. in an F-4 Phantom. "Jimmy" was shot down on his first sortie over Hanoi by a SAM (one of the ones, no doubt brought into Hyphong Harbor by Russian freighters that we were not allowed to attack.)
I did not find out about this until my return home. I still miss his smiling face, witt, and zest for life to this day! I ask you to please click on the header, and find it in your heart to say a small prayer for all in harms way on this memorial Day!
Tom Ford
No. 151
But this year won't you join me in remembering those that gave the last full measure of devotion to our country, those that will not be there at the table this year, those who forever will remain in our hearts, as young, vibrant kid's that went willingly to protect this great Nation?
Growing up in the 40/50's, my friends, and I played at war with surplus equipment that was so available at the time. Then came the 60's, I enlisted in the NAVY, so did my close friend (from across the street) LT. (jg) James Zavocki. I was a second class petty officer at the time, and served aboard an aircraft carrier (USS Bennington,)as an air crewman. "Jimmy" served aboard another carrier (USS Oriskiny,) as a R.E.O. in an F-4 Phantom. "Jimmy" was shot down on his first sortie over Hanoi by a SAM (one of the ones, no doubt brought into Hyphong Harbor by Russian freighters that we were not allowed to attack.)
I did not find out about this until my return home. I still miss his smiling face, witt, and zest for life to this day! I ask you to please click on the header, and find it in your heart to say a small prayer for all in harms way on this memorial Day!
Tom Ford
No. 151
posted by Crestwood Independent at 16:55
7 Comments:
I took my grandson to the open house at the fire department today. What a great thing those people did. They make me proud of our city even in bad times. Keep it up!
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This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
I have no idea why either of you chose to start an arguement on this thread, but your both gone!
This has nothing to do with that silly pool, or anything else in Crestwood! This was posted as a memorial, not a forum for fights.
If you wish to remember someone lost in war this is the spot to do it, if not, move to another part of the blog!
Tom Ford
God bless all our fighting men and women, past and present.
Furthermore, more needs to be done to provide for them after they serve - better hospitals, better medical care, etc. Our veterans deserve the best! Ask your elected officials to provide the very best for our military men and women.
A Marine's Dog ... SEMPER FI
"... A couple weeks ago I flew a night mission into Baghdad. Baghdad is a big city, and where we actually flew into, whether it would be a name you'd recognize from the news or not, doesn't really matter. Suffice to say that I fly into Baghdad almost every night, but this night's mission was a special ASR (assault support request). A Marine K-9 had been killed and another dog wounded earlier in the day and we were going there to pick up the dead K-9, the wounded K-9 and their Marine handlers. How these Marines were attacked, whether in contact with insurgents, a sniper or an improvised explosive device (IED), we never knew. We took off from our base and flew through the dark, star-clustered Arabian night in an open combat spread. Radios crackled and disembodied voices rolled through my helmet. The lights of small towns scattered across the desert floor, illuminated with a green glow through my NVG's (night vision goggles)passed below us and in and out of my gun sights. At about midnight we were on short final into a small LZ (Landing Zone) with battle-scarred concrete walls, and a hardened outpost with a bullet-riddled watchtower. As we touched down, I hopped out the back of our helicopter and watched as our "dash 2" ("cover" aircraft, in this case a gunship) landed about 40 feet to our 7 o'clock.
The LZ was dark and no one was around. Through my NVG's I could seethe Marines in the tower, and the bunker at its base, watching us, not really thrilled to see us there, two phrogs spinning on the deck inside their perimeter. And why would they be, as we presented a wonderfully enhanced target for indirect fire (IDF) in their position. Not that they don't take IDF often enough, just that we were now an added bonus to any one already predisposed to 'throwing' a few mortars or RPG's our way ... and theirs!
We waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes. After 15minutes, with still no sign of anyone, or any dogs, the crew began to grow a little uneasy: "We're here, where the hell are they?" "Do you see anybody, gunner" "Negative, sir." "... If we don't see anybody soon, let's get dash 2 out of here, so at least there's only one of us on the deck here in case we take incoming. You copy that (call sign)." "Roger that. Copy all."
Just then a door of a small industrial looking building about a hundred meters away, opened and I could see Marines moving awkwardly towards us. They were carrying their rifles with their outside hands and with the inside hand, each held the edge of a body bag. Behind them followed another Marine with a shouldered rifle, MOLLIE pack, and his hands were on the back of the bag. But this Marine's hands held the trailing edge of the body bag more like a priest would grasp a holy cloth or a child his mother's hem, not really supporting any weight, just holding on. As they loaded the body bag into our bird, I took the young Marine's pack and stowed it and then got him buckled in.
The wounded K-9 and his handler were loaded into dash 2, and I sat back down behind my .50 cal and called us clear of wires and trees as we lifted into the night sky. Once airborne, and on the go, out of the cultural lighting from over the town, I looked back to see a big Marine, head in his hands, sitting in darkness, bent over the body of his dog.
That was a long flight. My pilot, a battle-hardened colonel, kept asking me "How's our boy doing" as if he were a worried parent checking on his child.
He handed me back a small package of chocolate chip cookies he'd been saving for the return to base. "Give 'em to our boy. He's had a rough day of it." I unhooked my gunner's belt and walked back to the young man. I put my hand on his shoulder, handed him the cookies and patted him on the back, smiling some compassionate, but dumb, smile there in the dark, 300' somewhere over Iraq. What else can you do?
When we touched back down at our base, the passenger/cargo terminal sent a vehicle out for the dogs. I helped the Marine with his gear, out away from our rotor arc, and then ran back up the ramp and into our bird just in time to grab one of the terminal guys as he was reaching for the body of our Marine, thinking it was just another piece of gear. "Hey man - what the... are you doing?!" I yelled over the engine noise. "Leave him alone. We'll get him."
The crew chief and I reverently bent over and gently lifted the body bag and carried it out of our plane. I have carried body bags before here, and I was surprised by how light this one was. I placed my arms under the dog's body and gently set him down in the vehicle. And then, out of sheer habit, I petted the poor pup on the shoulder ... or maybe it was his hip. His body was still soft, even inside the thick black polyethylene bag.
As I turned to head back to my plane, I was face to face with the fallen Marine's master.
The young corporal looked at me, he had seen me pet his dog, and I like to think he saw how reverently we carried his fallen comrade's body out of the plane, but maybe not. Red eyes and a sad, exhausted face were eclipsed by a smile of gratitude as he shook my hand and mouthed the words "thank you."
Then he was gone and we were back on the plane and set to lift. Once back on our line after we had shut down, we all sat down in the back. It was quiet and no one really spoke until the colonel asked, "Did you take care of our boy Was he hurting too bad... Did you do right by the pup? Did we treat them both with the respect and honor they deserved?"
"Yes sir." I replied, Last year while we were here, the brevity code for friendly KIA was "Angels." I don't know what it is this time for OIF III, but it is a very fitting term. So I told the colonel "Yes, sir, the 'Angel' was carried with respect, and treated with dignity and compassion, as was his handler." The colonel liked this and we all agreed that the dog was a Marine ... as much as any of us. But on another level, that kid had not only lost his partner, but he'd lost his dog, a dog that I am sure he loved and that loved him back. That had touched us all deep down somewhere, where you're still a kid yourself.
We were proud to have been able to do what we did for this fellow Marine, this 'Angel', and each of us would willingly do it again any time. That's what Marines do.
I guess what I am saying is that we continually hear the question asked, "Why we are here?" I heard a Marine say yesterday, "Don't ask me why I am here. I don't make our country's policy, I execute policy." I guess to me "why" is not really that important. What is important is 'how' I am here. To me, this story illuminates that "how," by showing the nature of the Corps that makes Marines what they are, and in turn, is made what it is by the Marines devoted to it and to each other. I am part of an organization that believed it was important enough to send two helicopters and their crews, into harms way in order to retrieve the body of one of its fallen.
It made no difference that the Marine killed in action was a dog and not a man, what does matter is that each one of us involved felt the same. To us, not only was it a warranted and reasonable utilization of Marines, Marine Corps assets and resources, but the risk to eight Marines and two aircraft was far outweighed by a pervading sense of honor, commitment and espirit de corps. Why else am I here, if not to go get a boy and his dog - both of whom are fellow Marines. Few things here have been as important as that mission to me, and to my crew as well.
That's "how" we are."
From a friend!
Tom Ford
It is with deep regret that I must add a friends name (Dennis Lensenski) to the Memorial today.
A co-worker, and a friend of many years, Dennis passed away today from a massive heart attack at the age of 54.
Dennis was the sort of person you could always count on to help, and be there for you. The company, and I, will miss him, his family will miss him, but most of all, the world will miss him!
Dennis, I was honored to know you.
Tom Ford
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