"...But let us not forget the brave men and women in Iraq. There are plenty of real men out there..."
You bet...I have kind of a humorous story about these young Marines who were with us at the Gathering of Eagles, and it illustrates this point perfectly.
We were waiting for the moonbats to come across the bridge which had been closed down to allow them to march across, and all of a sudden, a white van came speeding across the bridge, braked to a sudden halt, and the side doors swung open.
Some people jumped out with boxes in their arms, ran into the little patch of woods by the bridge, placed their boxes by the side of the bridge, ran back and jumped in the van, which then sped away at a good clip.
We were all watching this, and when the van took off, everyone looked at each other and said "What the hell is that?" I am certain we were all thinking the same thing.
Explosives.
While we did a quick discussion, four of five of the Marines suddenly took off and ran across the road to the boxes, while their buddies who stayed behind yelled after them "Hey you dumb asses! They put IEDs in boxes like that!" (all these guys had done two tours over in Iraq and several had been wounded by IED's...the abuse was, however, good natured in intent...:)
While we decided quickly that it probably wasn't bombs because they came across the bridge closed by Police, we looked up to see several of the Marines running back across the road to us with broad grins on their faces.
Before we could ask what they were grinning about (as if reading our minds) one of them shouted out with glee: "It was anarchist and communist literature! We pissed all over it!"
We looked over to see one of them with his back to us, still emptying his bladder into the boxes...
THAT is just one of the reasons why I found them to be such an impressive group of young men.
They saw a situation.
Took immediate action.
And the action was appropriate, daring, and...entertaining! Made me want to shake their hands!
THAT is just one of the reasons why I found them to be such an impressive group of young men. Another example for you: around 1984 the *Travelin' Wall* 5/8 size replica of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial wall monument [of which there are now several, but this was the first, then new and still novel at the time] came to Bloomington, Indiana, where it was exhibited, appropriately enough, at the University's Memorial Stadium. It was in the open, and in Indiana, rain is hardly an uncommon experience.
Most of those who travelled with the multiple panels, each one long enough to just fit into a semitrailer truck carrier, were the town's guests at a local parade that was opening the ceremonies; the display would be opened to the public afterward. I was there along with a dozen or so others, in my case and that of three or four with me, we were representing the nearest AMVETs post, the others being local National Guardsmen and a Marine recruiter with a couple of other Marines. And, of course, it began to rain. One of the organizers, who was in a wheelchair was quite concerned; they'd had panels delaminate when rained on before, since it took a couple of months for the glues used to completely cure, and these were brand-spankin' new. There were plastic sheets on hand just for that purpose, but noone available to get the job done.
YOU GUARDSMEN GET DOWN HERE AND GIVE US A HAND WITH THE OTHER END OF THIS TARP. NOW! And so they did, as the unmistakable voice of the first sergeant who'd come along with us boomed down from on high. ONCE YOU MARINES SEE HOW IT'S DONE, YOU DO THE SAME, STARTING FROM THE OTHER END. And so they did, dress blues and all. With two crews of 8-12 people working together toward the middle, the job got done in half the time it would have taken us working individually. And The Voice From On High immediately knew of one group there besides his own that had both their own leadership and the ability to work together.
While I'd been finding out what the problem was and trying to figure out how to do something about it, First Sergeant Scott had found the control booth for the P.A. system and taken care of it, two or three steps ahead of me, as good sergeants are supposed to be.
The little knots of different groups from different units and individuals, with just a little nudge from the right kind of leadership, came together and got the required task done in time. Which is what it's all about.
A decade later I had to brief some fairly senior politicians, including a couple of state governors, on Joint Operations and the problems inherent in trying to herd a bunch of cats. The joint operation at Bloomington was the example I used of how unexpectedly a problem can arise, and how with the right skills, leadership and adaptability can overcome lack of prior planning and immediate personnel shortages.
I bet [now] former First Sergeant Scott would have similarly enjoyed himself along with those young Marines at the Gathering of Eagles. Last I heard, he was a private military contractor in Afghanistan.
