My kind of religion ??

Great Oration on a Great Subject.
http://tinyurl.com/32dwyy5

A load of junk...

So I deleted the info.
I leave you with this thought instead.
Did you know that you can sky dive Without a parachute?
But you can only do that once.

In a better mood

Well, it's now heading into Autumn, hurricanes cruising up the Atlantic seaboard, and waiting for the eventual snow.
Debbie says, "Great Fog Yesterday."
Corine's Rule: 90 Days later, a good storm.
That put's it out as December 24th, 2010.
Will have to sit back and wait.

Road Trip Views

Back from a Road Trip.
Saw the Ozark Castle, St. Louis Arch, Tall Ships in Chicago, and talked with old Friends and ate GREAT Pizza.
Met people I didn't even know existed, saw a small bit of the potential of the Earth and it's future and at times felt enthusiastic and at times saw the future of the human race as going the way of the Dinosaurs.  New book title: The Rise and Fall of the Human Race ?
We're wasting so many resources in so many ways.
OK, I'll cheer up.... later.
Pax Vobiscum.

Politics and Automobiles

Voting is like driving a car.
You pull the lever to "D" to go Forward.
You pull the lever to "R" to go Backwards.

 

Carry Me, Carry You.

I came across a photo in Magee's blog, showing him lifting up a youngster at an orphanage.  Magee's over 6'3", and the kid was about 3 years old.  

It was like a giant holding one of the hobbits.  And they were both holding each other, and they both needed to be held.  Great Photo.
  http://tinyurl.com/27k4qgv

Remember The Umbrella !!

A contractor for a large tech company was sent out near Seattle to evaluate and improve a process at the Boeing plant in Everett, Washington.

With the weather usually rainy, he packed his umbrella, and sure enough, when he drove out there from the airport, it was raining.

He parked the car in the visitor area, and walked into the factory with the umbrella, and stashed it into a corner to dry out. Around noon he came back to go get some lunch and found that the umbrella had been run over by a forklift or some other machine at the plant. He put his coat over his head, ducked out to his car, got lunch and also picked up a new $10.00 umbrella at the local discount store.

He was a bit more cautious where he put it the rest of the week, and when he got back to his office on the next Monday he filled out his expense report. He put down, “One Umbrella, $10.00, receipt attached” .

Well, on Wednesday, payroll approved everything but the $10.00 for the umbrella. He called them and asked, “Why Not? It was at the Boeing Plant outside of Seattle. It rained every day. My original umbrella got ran over by a forklift. I wasn’t about to charge THEM for the umbrella. They would think I was being petty and may even cancel our contract worth hundredsthousands of dollars. It wasn’t my fault. I put it where I thought it was safe. It was consumed on the job, and it’s only $10.00. “

But they said, “It’s a personal item. You can’t get reimbursed for personal items.”

So, the next time he was sent out to the plant a few weeks later, he filled out the expense report, and at the bottom he put in bold letters.
“FIND THE DAMN UMBRELLA!”

Someplace in that expense report was an extra $10.00. He got them to pay for it one way or the other.

When you’re working extra for the company where you’re at, and can’t get compensated for it in any normal way, just
‘Remember The Damn Umbrella!”. Get your ‘payback’ somehow, in extra pay or somehow else, or extra time off for free, or somehow. Just
‘Remember the Damn Umbrella!’.

Dawn Post

Well, still here.
Old Joke Time...
What's the difference between a Friend and a Good Friend?
A(1): A Friend will bail you out of Jail. A GOOD Friend will be in the cell next to you going... "Dude, was that awesome, or what ??!!"
A(2): A Friend will help you move. A GOOD Friend will help you move a body.


Another guy at the WAWA Coffee counter said...
'A good friend will say, " I'll pay for the lawyer."

Later.... gotta go watch Mythbusters blow something up.

Sunset Post

What to say?
Love ya'll, Lots.
My vote is that you should punch out of this place, the USofA is going the way of The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, but at a higher rate of speed.

Denmark feels like it might be OK. But you decide.

Oh, and one of my favorite artists and songs.
http://tinyurl.com/2bymh6n
See you all at dawn, and lets have pizza !!
Love,
Chuck

Mathematics Rules !!!

Good By, Gulf of Mexico - Day 76

So, it's Hotter-n-ell up here last night, so we're watching the fireworks in Boston, Washington and Philly in the air conditioned comfort of home on the local TV Networks, ( CBS, ABC, PBS ) and they look GREAT !

Each one had a synchronized part off the show to "America, the Beautiful", and we're singing along with the crowds,
"From the Mountains,
To the Valleys,
To The Oceans, White With Foam!
God Bless America, My Home, Sweet, and Home!"

and when I got to the Oceans White with Foam, .. My mind wandered to Mississippi, Louisiana, Florida, George Bush's Texas and the Gulf of Mexico...
I was Depressed!!
No longer White with Foam down there, it's Red, Iridescent Blue, Iridescent Green, etc with oil !!

The rest of this post was deleted from my head because they don't want me to say nasty words on the internet.


Stay Cool, Everyone...

Nice Mathematics Quote

Had never heard this one before...

Egrafov, M.
If you ask mathematicians what they do, you always get the same answer. They think. They think about difficult and unusual problems. They do not think about ordinary problems: they just write down the answers.

Mathematics Magazine, v. 65 no. 5, December 1992.

An Interesting Meeting

I met someone whom I did not remember meeting before, but I knew we'd meet again in the future.
Deja Vue.... in a reverse sort of way.

You never lose your past, ...

You never lose your past, because it's always popping up in the things you think and do and how you react to the current situation.
You can never avoid your future, but you can shift it a bit to the right, left, up, down, front, back a bit at a time... and then change it's direction.

Good Luck... and enjoy the adventure.

For Jack and Maggie on Jack's 20th Birthday

April 2nd, 2047
I just came back today to tell you kids that you should read several of Harlan Ellison's books. Pick a few... then try Isaac Asimov, too.

WOW !!

Great... Wow !

http://tinyurl.com/MarcStieglerTheGentleSeduction

Mark Twain - 1901 and To the Person Sitting in the Darkness

From a political website called Crooks and Liars.
I turned to this short article by Mark Twain, written in 1901, titled "To the Person Sitting in Darkness." http://www.historywiz.com/primarysources/sittingindarkness.htm
This was written late in his life, and his political views had turned against imperialist exercises such as the American occupation of the Philippines. It's worth a read, but this part at the end jumped out at me, where he satirically takes the position of the American government explaining why it was in the Philippines.

From Mark Twain [ aka Samuel Clemens ]
"Having now laid all the historical facts before the Person Sitting in Darkness, we should bring him to again, and explain them to him. We should say to him:
They look doubtful, but in reality they are not. There have been lies; yes, but they were told in a good cause. We have been treacherous; but that was only in order that real good might come out of apparent evil. True, we have crushed a deceived and confiding people; we have turned against the weak and the friendless who trusted us; we have stamped out a just and intelligent and well-ordered republic; we have stabbed an ally in the back and slapped the face of a guest; we have bought a Shadow from an enemy that hadn't it to sell; we have robbed a trusting friend of his land and his liberty; we have invited our clean young men to shoulder a discredited musket and do bandit's work under a flag which bandits have been accustomed to fear, not to follow; we have debauched America's honor and blackened her face before the world; but each detail was for the best. We know this. The Head of every State and Sovereignty in Christendom and ninety per cent. of every legislative body in Christendom, including our Congress and our fifty State Legislatures, are members not only of the church, but also of the Blessings-of-Civilization Trust. This world-girdling accumulation of trained morals, high principles, and justice, cannot do an unright thing, an unfair thing, an ungenerous thing, an unclean thing. It knows what it is about. Give yourself no uneasiness; it is all right.
Now then, that will convince the Person. You will see. It will restore the Business. Also, it will elect the Master of the Game to the vacant place in the Trinity of our national gods; and there on their high thrones the Three will sit, age after age, in the people's sight, each bearing the Emblem of his service: Washington, the Sword of the Liberator; Lincoln, the Slave's Broken Chains; the Master, the Chains Repaired.
It will give the Business a splendid new start. You will see."
- Mark Twain

1901 ... 2001. What will happen to America by 2101 ?

For Another Jack ( and Maggie, too )

Oh, and one of my Favorite Movies !!
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0090728/
Kurt Russell as Jack Burton

When some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, and he looks you crooked in the eye and he asks you if ya paid your dues,
You just stare that big sucker right back in the eye, and you remember what ol' Jack Burton always says at a time like that:
"Have ya paid your dues, Jack?"
"Yes sir! The check is in the mail."

Second April 2nd, 2010

One of my favorite quotes in movies is in Hook, where Peter Pan says,
"Gotta Save Maggie! Gotta Save Jack! Hook is back!"

Hi Maggie! I love you, Too !!

April 2nd 2010

Happy Third Birthday, Jack !!
Off to your place tomorrow for the party!!
Birthday Advice?
Buy Low, Sell High, and don't be in a hurry to buy !!

Tea Party

Wow, the Tea Party is a bunch of scary folks. I sure hope Sarah Palin takes over the organization. She'll go nuts and really radicalize it. That should [ hopefully ] doom their organization.

Too many nuts spoil the soup.

February, 2009 Snow Storm

Well, we got clobbered by a nice snow storm on Feb 5th and 6th of 2010. Spent 2 hours out playing with the snowblower. Just did our driveway and sidewalk, Greg's next door and Mr Gerald Otten's down the block. Temps about 25 degrees F, so it was mostly fluffy and blew better than slushy stuff.

Today I'm making Dumplin' Soup and gonna clear off the car. It's got about a foot and a half of snow on top. Weather guys say we got about 21 inches, but around our house it looks more like 18 inches, official.

Lots of stuff was cancelled, only one church service on today, Sunday, at 11:00 AM. All other services cancelled. Roads are mostly a mess, but you can get around in a normal vehicle. The Snow Plow Crews are earning their overtime, and the landscapers will have a good Valentine's Day for their loved ones with the extra money they are earning.

Well, gotta go.
C U L8R.

Happy New 2010

Happy New Year !!

I sure hope it's better than 2009 !

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas !!
- GrandPa Chuck

Looking at the Camera

When you look at the camera, say for the "Family Reunion" photo, or the holiday snap from Aunt Rose, or just an interview by the national press because of something that you are involved in... whatever it is...

Once you look at the camera, don't look at the camera.
Instead look THROUGH the camera, and see all the other people who are looking at you. They are looking at you Now, They are looking at you a week from Now, They are looking at you 40 or 50 years from Now. They are your friends, your relatives, your spouse(s), your enemies, and a lot of no-body's and some-body's. All those people are looking at you. So Smile at them like you know something that They Don't.
You know... You KNOW that they are looking at you.
So Smile that little smile.
- GrandPa Chuck

North Daklota humor? or just us Peterkas?

You may remember Marilyn [Peterka] Schmitz.
She was one of my older cousins.
She died out in Colorado, where Joanne [ My Sister ] and her hubby live.
Anyway, Marilyn was 79, and was totally aware to the end. She had the family in the ICU on her last day and looked around the room, looked everyone in the eye as she scanned the room, and then said,
"So, what's everyone gonna be on Halloween ?"

They all hemmed and hawed and talked about the various projects and 'family events', etc and that they hadn't really had time to think of it.
Then Marilyn put both her arms up in the air and said,
"I'm gonna be a Ghost!"
..
Wow, us North Dakotans are a bunch of demented folks.
Funny, ... hell yes... It really happened.
Got the news from Joanne.

What went down last week...
It all started on Tuesday morning, finished up on Saturday around 1:00 PM.

and I was back at work on Monday.

====

Yea... I got ambushed big time.

Around 8:25 AM on Tuesday

On Tuesday morning I was going through my Emails and had just gotten one ready to go out when my vision became blurry.
Instantaneously.

No other symptoms... No headache, no other pains, no dizziness, no nothing... Just blurry vision
that settled quickly to effect the Upper Left area of my vision field, both right eye and left eye.

I though it was,
A. Greasy Glasses ?? ... so I cleaned them, but the blur remained.

B. Detached Retina ?? ... but when I leaned my head back, the blur remained...
[ Yea... even then I knew I would need about a 5 G turn to pop it back in place, but figured I might get lucky.]

C. Then I did some more troubleshooting: Left Eye Closed... Still Blurry,
Right Eye Closed... Still Blurry,
Poop... that means it's not the Eyes... but the Optical Processing Unit... aka in the Brain.


So I estimated where the "Send" button was and got the email off, then did a
CTRL-ALT-DEL, and I could see on the extreme right, so I found the drop down menu and choose
blah-blah-blah-n [ as in shutdown ] that ends in an "N" on that menu, and hit enter.
It shut down.

I then locked up my desk, grabbed my keys, and went down two cubes to Pat Ellis' cube.

"Hi Pat. You busy right now?"

"Naw... what's up?"

"My vision is messed up, can you take me to the ER at Paoli Hospital?"

"Sure"

So we wandered out to the parking lot, transferred the soda's and paper plates for our DBA picnic to his car,
and he drove me to Paoli in his car, and dropped me off at the ER.

Two Cat scans, 5 days, One MRI and various DR's and Pills and pokes and prodding and being stuck with needles and Stuff later...
I was finally able to leave the hospital on Saturday afternoon.

It was a small leak in the lower right area of the brain that does optical processing,
so , since the eyes are upside down and backwards, it was the Upper Left area of my vision that was out of commission.

Around 2:00 or 3:00 PM my vision came back on Tuesday, so it was only out for about 6 hours,
but they kept me through Saturday for tests, Blood Pressure adjustments, and Cat Scan's,
an MRI, and lot's of blood tests... with REAL Blood !

I finally got released Today ( Saturday ) around 1:00 PM and will be back in on Monday for work.

I can't drive for a week, just a precaution, so we'll miss a friends wedding up in Jersey cause the 2+ hours of driving up there,
and then when we're tired, after the wedding, Nancy would have to drive back again by herself, with me as a passenger..

I really, really wanted to go to the wedding, but.... Stuff Happens.
- Forest Gump.

History.... Real History

Another story from history.
From MudFlats
http://www.themudflats.net/2009/08/21/nazis/

On my 21st birthday, I woke up in the morning and drove to Dairy Queen. I got soft serve vanilla ice cream with strawberry topping and I ate it for breakfast. Why? When I was a child I asked once if I could have ice cream for breakfast, and my mother said, “You can have ice cream for breakfast when you’re 21.” And so I did.

My father spent his 21st birthday in a prisoner of war camp. Deaf in one ear, and completely flat-footed, he could have easily been a “4-F” and escaped service for medical reasons. He was a peaceful man but he, like so many of his generation, felt the need to serve his country, and to fight againgst the fascism that was threatening to engulf the democratic nations of Western Europe, and had even attacked the United States.

When he was 20 years old, he’d been taken prisoner by the Germans at the Battle of the Bulge, was marched for miles, imprisoned, and starved. Like many men of his generation, veterans of World War II, he didn’t talk about it much. He held his memories close to his chest. If he talked to anyone about them, I didn’t know. It was only many years after his service and just before his death that he shared some of those memories with me.

Starvation does strange things to people. He told me that after a while in the camp, he had the same recurring dream, every night – a stack of pancakes topped with two fried eggs, sunny-side up. He’d dream that dream over and over, a still frame, a picture of a breakfast that never came. He told me that his fellow prisoners got so hungry that once they had killed and eaten a cat that had strayed into the camp. You don’t forget a story like that.

Or the story of the man in the camp, who snapped. In peace time, we’d have called him a boy. Suddenly and without warning in the middle of the day, out in the yard, his mind went. He ran for the fence in a desperate effort to escape. There was nowhere to go, and in broad daylight with armed guards everywhere, he didn’t stand a chance. My father, who was quick to pick up languages, had learned some German. “Don’t shoot! He’s crazy! He’s lost his mind! He doesn’t know what he’s doing!” my father called out to the guards as he ran out in the yard waving his arms. The man kept running for the fence, and he climbed, and the guards didn’t shoot. They waited until he reached the top. And then they shot him. They left him there for three days as a warning to anyone else who might have been thinking about escape.

Any survivor of World War II has stories. Millions were never able to tell them. Their lives ended on battlefields, and in gas chambers, at the hands of the Nazis. My dad was able to tell me some of his experiences, but most of those memories died with him, like they died with many vets and victims of the war. I didn’t even know he’d received a Purple Heart until after his death. But he survived. He survived to marry the girl he left at home, to buy a house, to get a college degree, to start his own company, and to raise a family of five children.

I asked my dad if he ever got his stack of pancakes with the fried eggs on top. I imagined it being his first meal after the Russians had liberated the camp. The Germans had heard that the Russians were coming, and they left quickly in the night. The prisoners hadn’t known what was happening until two days later when the Russian army came and let them out, confused and near death. No, he told me, he never did have the pancakes and eggs. It took months in the hospital to build his system back up to where he could eat normally. He began at 5′11″ weighing less than 100 pounds, and started with an IV, then a liquid diet, then cream of wheat, and finally solids. A fellow prisoner, he said, on his way from the camp to the hospital in France had managed to get a hold of a box of donuts and had gorged himself. He died a free man, but still a victim. By the time my dad was able to eat that stack of pancakes and eggs, the desire had passed.

I remember as a child I was not allowed to watch Hogan’s Heroes. It wasn’t a joke in my house. There was nothing funny about prisoner of war camps. There were no handsome well-fed prisoners with secret tunnels under their bunks, and pirate radio equipment who always managed to play their captors for the fool. There were frightened, emaciated young men whose minds and bodies were broken an ocean away from home, who were shot on fences , and who ate cats, and watched their friends die. There was nothing to laugh about. Those were Nazis.

I am tired of people comparing Obama to Hitler. I am tired of seeing signs with swastikas and nazi symbols at health care rallies. I am tired of people saying that a health care plan designed to uplift millions of Americans to give them dignity, and choice and the ability to care for their families, is like Naziism. I am tired of Rush Limbaugh.

As time passes, and as the greatest generation becomes a memory, passing into history one soul at a time, it is up to the generations that follow them to keep “Hitler” and “Nazi” out of the clutches of those who would make them political buzzwords for people they don’t like, or policies they don’t understand. Those words remind us of the worst that people can be. There is nothing horrible about Germans in particular that caused them to do these things. This is humanity’s dark potential, and something that we all need to remember, whether we were there or not, or whether our family was affected or not, because this is what people can do to each other. To strip those words of their power and meaning in order to create political fear for self-gain is inexcusable and needs to be confronted and refuted whenever it arises, by all of us, whether we support the current health care bill and the current president or not.

On Jack and Maggie...

A progress report on Jack and Maggie.

OMG... Maggie is crawling like a GI under the barbed wire. Awesome for 7 Months !

Jack can run an IPhone like it was an extention of his hands. Pick the app, run the camera, save the photos, put them into the Harry Potter application, view photo's, bring up YouTube video's of the "Bear Necessities"... and on and on. Not bad for 2 1/2 !!! Such Awesome Kids. Love ya !!

-GrandPa Chuck

The Toughest Jobs

A story about war. Not all stories are about 'taking the hill', or saving lives or the nation. There are many jobs, done by many people, during a war. There are many, many jobs that are tougher, with no glory, but must be done. This is one of the tougher jobs.

===========

Tough duty then, as it is now.

"Burial at Sea" by LtCol George Goodson, USMC (Ret)

In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from time to time, as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most were trivial.

War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has endured it. Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic and was wounded there, Vietnam was my war.

Now 37 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of those days in Cambodia, Laos, and the panhandle of North Vietnam where small teams of Americans and Montangards fought much larger elements of the North Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some exotic, some mundane:

*The smell of Nuc Mam.

*The heat, dust, and humidity.

*The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets.

*Elephants moving silently through the tall grass.

*Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers.

*Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar.

*A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby.

*The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao.

*My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland.

It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in Vietnam. Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from Indianapolis to Norfolk, rented a house, enrolled my children in their fifth or sixth new school, and bought a second car.

A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to Little Creek, Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office. Appearance is important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a poster Marine. I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only 30 days before. At 5'9", I now weighed 128 pounds - 37 pounds below my normal weight. My uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was yellow from malaria medication, and I think I had a twitch or two.

I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked at the nameplate on a Staff Sergeant's desk and said, "Sergeant Jolly, I'm Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and my Qualification Jacket."

Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck out his hand; we shook and he asked, "How long were you there, Colonel?" I replied "18 months this time." Jolly breathed, "Jesus, you must be a slow learner Colonel." I smiled.

Jolly said, "Colonel, I'll show you to your office and bring in the Sergeant Major. I said, "No, let's just go straight to his office." Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, "Colonel, the Sergeant Major. He's been in this Godd@mn job two years. He's packed pretty tight. I'm worried about him." I nodded.

Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major's office. "Sergeant Major, this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Office. The Sergeant Major stood, extended his ha nd and said, "Good to see you again, Colonel." I responded, "Hello Walt, how are you?" Jolly looked at me, raised an eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door.

I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of coffee and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt's stress was palpable. Finally, I said, "Walt, what's the hell's wrong?" He turned his chair, looked out the window and said, "George, you're going to wish you were back in Nam before you leave here. I've been in the Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for 14 months, and Vietnam for 12 months. Now I come here to bury these kids. I'm putting my letter in. I can't take it anymore." I said, "OK Walt. If that's what you want, I'll endorse your request for retirement and do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine Corps."

Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too much suffering. He was used up.

Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications, conducted 28 military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the families of Marines that were severely wounded or missing in action. Most of the details of those casualty notifications have now, thankfully, faded from memory.

Four, however, remain.

MY FIRST NOTIFICATION

My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I was notified of the death of a 19 year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters 20 Marine Corps. The information detailed:

*Name, rank, and serial number.

*Name, address, and phone number of next of kin.

*Date of and limited details about the Marine's death.

*Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station.

*A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or closed.

The boy's family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 60 miles away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state line into North Carolina, I stopped at a small country store / service station / Post Office. I went in to ask directions.

Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small Post Office window. The man held a package. The Storeowner walked up and addressed them by name, "Hello John. Good morning Mrs. Cooper." I was stunned. My casualty's next-of-kin's name was John Cooper!

I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, "I beg your pardon. Are you Mr. and Mrs. John Copper of (address.)

The father looked at me-I was in uniform - and then, shaking, bent at the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me. Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I think I caught her before she hit the floor.

The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr. Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I drove them home in my staff car. The storeowner locked the store and followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began arriving.

I returned the storeowner to his business. He thanked me and said, "Mister, I wouldn't have your job for a million dollars." I shook his hand and said; "Neither would I."

I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the door, and sat there all night, alone.

My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death notification.

THE FUNERALS

Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals.. I borrowed Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and how to fold the flag.

When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said, "All Marines share in your grief." I had been instructed to say, "On behalf of a grateful nation." I didn't think the nation was grateful, so I didn't say that.

Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn't speak. When that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder. They would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, "I'm so sorry you have this terrible job." My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over and kissed her.

ANOTHER NOTIFICATION

Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young PFC. I drove to his mother's house. As always, I was in uniform and driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across the yard, screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO!"

I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her up and carried her into the house. Eight or nine neighbors followed. Ten or fifteen later, the father came in followed by ambulance personnel. I have no recollection of leaving.

The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and shook his head sadly.

ANOTHER NOTIFICATION

One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant Jolly held the phone up and said, "You've got another one, Colonel." I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes, thanked the officer making the call, I have no idea why, and hung up. Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone Directory that translates telephone numbers into the person's address and place of employment.

The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my office. I called the Longshoreman's Union Office and asked for the Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and asked for the father's schedule.

The Business Manager asked, "Is it his son?" I said nothing. After a moment, he said, in a low voice, "Tom is at home today." I said, "Don't call him. I'll take care of that." The Business Manager said, "Aye, Aye Sir," and then explained, "Tom and I were Marines in WWII."

I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw instantly that she was clueless. I asked, "Is Mr. Smith home?" She smiled pleasantly and responded, "Yes, but he's eating breakfast now. Can you come back later?" I said, "I'm sorry. It's important, I need to see him now."

She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, "Tom, it's for you."

A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door. He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said, "Jesus Christ man, he's only been there three weeks!"

Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth.... I never could do that... and held an imaginary phone to his ear.

Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, "Got it." and hung up. I had stopped saying "Thank You" long ago.

Jolly, "Where?"

Me, "Eastern Shore of Maryland. The father is a retired Chief Petty Officer. His brother will accompany the body back from Vietnam."

Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, "This time of day, it'll take three hours to get there and back. I'll call the Naval Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I'll have Captain Tolliver get one of his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief's home."

He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father's door. He opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at parade rest beside the car, and asked, "Which one of my boys was it, Colonel?"

I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office and home phone number and told him to call me, anytime.

He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00PM). "I've gone through my boy's papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you make that happen?" I said, "Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will."

My wife who had been listening said, "Can you do that?" I told her, "I have no idea. But I'm going to break my ass trying."

I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation, and asked, "General, can you get me a quick appointment with the Admiral at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters?" General Bowser said," George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will see you.

I was and the Admiral did. He said coldly, "How can the Navy help the Marine Corps, Colonel." I told him20the story. He turned to his Chief of Staff and said, "Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?" The Chief of Staff responded with a name.

The Admiral called the ship, "Captain, you're going to do a burial at sea. You'll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this mission is completed."

He hung up, looked at me, and said, "The next time you need a ship, Colonel, call me. You don't have to sic Al Bowser on my ass." I responded, "Aye Aye, Sir" and got the hell out of his office.

I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and the Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship's crew for four days. Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He said, "These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from floating?"

All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the Senior Chief stood and said, "Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the retired guys from World War II hang out."

They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worst for wear, and said, "It's simple; we cut four 12" holes in the outer shell of the casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of the casket. We can handle that, no sweat."

The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth.

The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed on a catafalque. The Chaplin spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played "Eternal Father Strong to Save." The casket was raised slightly at the head and it slid into the sea.

The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet. The incoming water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet, stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising from the sinking casket sparkled in the in the sunlight as the casket disappeared from sight forever.

The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, "General, get me the f*ck out of here. I can't take this sh_t anymore." I was transferred two weeks later.

I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too much death and too much suffering. I was used up.

Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with me. He waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes, came to attention, saluted, and said, "Well Done, Colonel. Well Done."

I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor!

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God bless you, Colonel !!