THE WAY HOME

MY visit with Dana, Martin, Jerry, Eddie, Arlie, and Ike, along with wives and family is over. My thanks to Dana for his initiative. Had he not set this up for me I doubt that I would have attended.

In addition to that gift, Dana also made a book that contains the movement and actions of the unit during my tenure. I was also presented with a flash drive which contains some pictures I have never seen before.

 

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This photo shows part of Mike3 enjoying a 1970 Christmas dinner courtesy of  the ” Purple Fox” squadron. The Foxes spent their Christmas flying hot chow, beer, and soda to all the grunts who were in the bush for Christmas.

We were technically on a 24 hour “cease fire”, but what that really meant is that we didn’t go looking for trouble…….we sure kept an eye on things though.

My visit with my battalion sure was a wonderful time. My views on war are well known in this forum, but my pride in these fine men is boundless. I am sure that next May will find me in Kentucky, standing tall with some of the finest, most courageous, albeit, grayest Marines on the planet.

I am now en route to Ft Collins, CO to have a major service done on the bike. By the way, having spent the weekend with Marines of the DARKHORSE BATTALION there is no way I can stay with the name change of my faithful steed. DARKHORSE it was and will be.

The trip home has been exciting. Most of you are probably aware of the severe weather that has pounded the Midwest the last few days. Last night I got a taste of it when I pushed a little too far and ended up riding on the shoulder with my flashers on, cursing myself for my stupidity. The only thing I missed (thank goodness!) was the humongous hail which fell only a few miles from me. It is said the Lord looks after drunks and fools! I know you are laughing, but for sure, I WAS sober!

I have a few stops to make, but should be home by the weekend. Look forward to that!

Mike 31 out.

LZ BARKLEY

It is 5AM. I awakened at three and finally decided to get up and do something, as sleep doesn’t seem to be in the cards this morning.

Last night I enjoyed being treated to a nice dinner by Eddie and his wife Jeannie. At the table were three more of us from “The Herd” as well as wives and family. With the arrival of two other platoon members tomorrow, we will be as strong a unit as any here this year.

The main reason I find sleep so difficult is that I am troubled by the incredible quality of people and courage I am surrounded by vs the total lack of integrity and courage of those who set policy, but who have never seen fit to “go and do”.

To stand in the conference room and behold the wall inscribed with the names of the men from one Marine Battalion who paid the ultimate price is indeed a humbling experience. I gaze at the names in awe that such a price has been paid by one relatively small band of warriors.

The names of the fallen cover an entire wall, and the banner that represents them is affixed with streamers from many campaigns. We were told that the twenty-nine battle streamers affixed to that flag makes 3rd Bn. 5th Marines the most decorated unit in the history of American arms.

I am extremely proud of the men of this unit who have fought under that flag with me, the many who served before my time, and those who came after me. I am, however, deeply troubled by the missions assigned, and the motives of those on high who set this incredible “Green Machine” into action.

I write these words mainly for those of you who have not had to endure those things that have been survived by this splendid Band of Brothers. I wish everyone could be here and witness the honor and devotion of these Marines to their nation, and especially, to each other.

I wish all of you could witness this gathering, speak with and associate with these protectors, the sheepdogs of the nation. I am sure, if that were to happen, pressure would be applied to those in power. Pressure that would assure that such fine men as these would be tasked only with the clear defense of America and Americans, and never have their lives and energies squandered in murky schemes of wealth and power.

This is my hope and prayer. To the men of the Third Battalion, I send my total respect and admiration. To the people of communities across the country; If you were here I am sure you would be very careful of what you wish for, stand for, and vote for, and always be sure that the terrible price that must be paid is accounted for and honored.

Mike 31 out.

JAYHAWK REPORT

This trip to the Kentucky reunion continues to progress well. I have not taken the time to post on the road so far so I will start at the beginning.

On day one I took a short hop over the Cascades to Bend, OR. I spent the night there and enjoyed dinner with a Ranger buddy and his lovely lady. Not too early on day two I rode hard to Rupert, Idaho.

Those of you in the third herd may not know that Rupert was the boyhood home of Stan Schiewe. I ran into him there years ago, but he seems to have gone covert. I asked around but nobody could help me find him. I will try again on the way home.

After a night in the tent with strong gusty winds and thunder storms I began day three with a long and blustery ride to Laramie, Wyoming. I pulled into town as it was getting dark and fueled my machine. I found the only room left in town as it was graduation weekend at the University of Wyoming.

On day four I took a shortcut on a dirt road I know down into Hillrose, Colorado. The road proved very challenging! Oil, Black Gold! My old dirt road is now like the Haul Road in Alaska, only tougher to ride. The big rigs that service the oil fields make the trail tough going for us two wheelers. I was standing on the pegs quite a bit, and wishing I had already done the “Rawhyde” training I have scheduled for this fall! Thirty miles an hour and third gear was all I could manage on that thing and sometimes it was first gear and a prayer.

In Hillrose I stopped at a country bar owned by former Marine AJ and his wife Kim.  My friends were not there so I put Whiskey in the wind and later parked for the night in Goodland, Kansas, where I found some brewskis and hit the rack early.

Day five started, with coffee and laundry detail. In the process I met two sisters, Sara and Nita, who were driving to LA to attend a conference. The ladies invited me to breakfast and I accepted as the dryer still had time to run and I am seldom in too much of a hurry to make new friends. The breakfast was excellent, as was the company. After friendly conversation and a wonderful meal, the girls headed for Grand Junction and I set a course for Lawrence, Kansas.

I made Lawrence in the early evening and found the FREESTATE BREWERY where Deborah and I had dined while in Kansas looking at some property a few years ago. The steak, brew, and ambiance, along with a spirited conversation with a few of the Pub workers made for a fine evening. Now ensconced in the cheap and adequate Motel 6, I call it a day. I managed to get a call through to my Mom to say happy day so all is well in the world tonite.

It is after midnight so, after a snooze, I plan to head for St Louis and catch another friend from “the herd” and position myself for arrival at my destination, Cadiz, Kentucky.

Goodnite All!

mike31 out.

WARNING UNHEEDED

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you!”. How many times have you heard this admonition in your life? Yea I have been warned. Many intelligent, rich, funny, honorable people have warned me to leave this country before “closin time”. Why do I ignore the warnings? Easy! Nearly everything and everyone I care about or love lives in these parts. How could I depart and watch the debacle that many of us believe is coming, from afar.

I was warned (by warriors and others) not to go to Viet Nam. I did not heed the warnings. I was a believer then. I believed that the government would never send its sons and daughters halfway around the world to do things that did not need to be done.

The greatest benefit I received from that experience is the life long association with some great men with whom I served under trying circumstances. These fellows will be gathering this spring, in Kentucky, to celebrate our love and deep abiding respect for one another.

This is how life works isn’t it? The things and events that hurt and scar us the most are also those things that we prize and contemplate for the rest of our lives. The meddling of empire- something I had no comprehension of back then- causes death and pain for honorable people on both sides. People who even as they oppose one another, somehow realize that they are all truly, “Brothers in Arms”.

How lovely it would be to forge similar bonds in the interest of peace! We hold the potential and magic necessary to accomplish this inside all of us. We don’t need ‘leaders’ to show us the way, we need only to manage and come to terms with our fears.

Mike 31 out.

MOTO IN MAY!

The time to leave for a trip to Kentucky is fast approaching. I’ll be on the bike for ten days or so – goin and comin. Be a hell of a lot easier to get on a plane, but am committed to boycotting that means of transportation till we get things back in order at the airport. I know many people don’t have the time for that. I do.

By avoiding that freedom sucking bottleneck, (the airport) I FEEL like a freer man. Being on the bike is pure freedom……especially if one rides “Mexican” style, paying more attention to the laws of physics than the numbers on some metal signs! I am also free to not pay 100% attention and end up crushed by some clover in a “cage”. Life is a dangerous business…..might as well be fun!

I have decided to suppress my sailing fantasies, for now, as I still have the reflexes and balance to moto safely. I plan to get some formal training in the dirt and on the track this year. My previous experience is “trial and error”, and at my current level of speed and lean some formal instruction is indicated to increase my fun without scrambling my brains. My considerable experience will be augmented greatly by increasing my technical skills.

Somehow I am not equipped to find enjoyment and stimulation by doing the same thing again and again; no matter how enjoyable the pursuit may be. I need to move ahead, learn and grow, or move on and learn something else.

Now the garden is in, projects are done, and it is time to spin up, “On THE Road Again”. Ole Willie is getting old and so am I but the road beckons….Cadiz, Kentucky here I come.

http://ericpetersautos.com/2013/04/28/ive-got-a-golden-ticket/

BYE BYE MISS AMERICAN PIE…

The Day the Music Died for Good

by William L. Anderson

Recently by William L. Anderson: Who Will Protect Us From the ’Protectors’?

As an ambulance took the seriously wounded Dzhokar Tsarnaev to a hospital, people in Watertown, Massachusetts, realized that the police hunt was over and they cheered. And cheered. Some in the crowd began to chant, “USA! USA! USA!” as though an American team had won an Olympic competition.

To the relieved residents who finally could go back to something normal after effectively living a day under martial law, Gov. Deval Patrick issuing a “shelter-in-place” order, the police had been heroes, protecting them from two mad bombers who already had struck the venerable Boston Marathon and were promising more mayhem and murder:

“Every time a police car passed by, the cheering became louder, and a sense of respect and admiration was felt through the crowd,” said Montana Fredrick, who joined a sea of other Northeastern University students in greeting the officers.

While the people of Watertown and the rest of Boston might have been celebrating a “victory” by police, what they and the flock of journalists descending upon the story failed to see was that their lives have changed for the worst, and it was not the Brothers Tsarnaev that changed things. It was government and more specifically, how government agencies handled the hunt for Dzhokar, the younger of the two.

After authorities had gained enough knowledge of who the bombers might be, having scanned the thousands of photos and videos of the blast scenes, the next step was finding the two brothers. In retrospect, one should not be surprised that the two were quickly identified.

Like all big road race events, photos of the finish line and the surrounding area are continuously taken. One reason goes back to 1980, when an interloper named Rosie Ruiz snuck into the race a half-mile from the finish and claimed victory. She received the laurel wreath in a public ceremony, but later that week race officials had enough evidence to find Ruiz was a fraud, and French Canadian Jaqueline Gareau was named the women’s champion.

Until the bombing, the Ruiz affair was the worst thing associated with the nation’s oldest and best-known marathon but Ruiz’s fraud led to race organizers setting up an extensive video system to ensure that nothing like that ever happened again, with the finish area being the most extensively recorded. And it is not just the professionals doing the video work. Organizations and individuals have literally hundreds of video cameras and video recording devices working throughout the race, and especially at the finish, and it was inevitable that whoever was responsible would have been caught on camera, and they were.

By Thursday night, police knew the suspects and in a firefight in Watertown, the older brother, Tamerlan, was killed. Dzhokar escaped and the manhunt became even more intense.

Until that time, the investigation really was about simple police work, a meticulous effort in which both police and ordinary citizens, including at least one seriously injured in the blast, were able to piece things together. (Unfortunately, the New York Post, which distinguished itself by headlining error after egregious error, committed a journalistic outrage by showing a photo of two local North African high school runners and all-but-claiming they were the bombers.)

When Dzhokar escaped, a police era passed with him and things fell into an abyss from there. First, hundreds of paramilitary police occupied the streets of Boston and surrounding areas, showing off their military equipment and looking every bit the role of the conquering army that one might expect to see in a bad movie.

For all the show of force, this had nothing to do either with finding and apprehending the suspect or “protecting” the citizens of Boston. Instead, they acted as government enforcers of Patrick’s “shelter in place” order for the city and surrounding areas, an order that effectively imposed martial law. These paramilitary “protectors” were not there to apprehend a dangerous suspect; they were there to intimidate the local citizenry into staying in their houses and apartments even though their going to work would have had no interference whatsoever with the police search.

As one blogger put it:

The government and police were willing to shut down parts of the economy like the universities, software, biotech, and manufacturing…but when asked to do an actual risk to reward calculation where a small part of the costs landed on their own shoulders, they had no problem weighing one versus the other and then telling the donut servers “yeah, come to work – no one’s going to get shot.”

Yes, the police allowed Dunkin’ Donuts to stay open. In fact, the cops ordered the business to be open in order to serve the police (who I am sure did not pay for their coffee and treats), even to the point of enforcing police stereotypes regarding donuts. That others would have real costs thrown upon their shoulders in order to serve the whim of police and to make a political animal like Deval Patrick look like a “take charge” guy is of no consequence to those that make a living ordering around others. The people meekly followed orders because they knew the paramilitary cops would have gunned them down and faced no legal consequences for enforcing martial law.

It got worse, and I would say hilariously worse because the show-of-force tactics, martial law, and the eternal press conferences featuring Patrick and other Very Serious People actually ensured it would take longer to find Dzhokar. Police, in typical bureaucratic fashion, had created a perimeter in Watertown and they searched everywhere within that area.

If one looks at the picture of the boat in which Dzhokar was found hiding, one can see it is just behind the house, not even 20 feet away. However, while the house fell within the perimeter, the boat did not, and it never occurred to the police to look at what in retrospect would have been an excellent hiding place. The bureaucratic paramilitary cops, however, did not even think of walking an inch past their perimeter line.

It took the owner of the boat who noticed something amiss – after he was permitted to leave his house when Patrick lifted his “shelter” order – to find the wounded Tsarnaev, and police flushed him out about a half-hour later. In other words, despite the show of force and despite the presence of paramilitary cops, armored trucks, and assault rifles, the suspect was captured because a mere mundane was willing to look 20 feet beyond where the cops would go.

Lest anyone think the police were “protecting” anyone, the following video demonstrates just how brutal the police were to ordinary citizens who had committed the “crime” of living within the perimeter. As I watched it, I was reminded of a film I watched last week, “The Hiding Place.” The movie included scenes of Nazi officials and soldiers herding Jews out of their homes and up the streets. And, yes, the scene in Watertown in many ways matched what I saw in the movie, complete with the barking police dog snarling at people forced to run away from their homes with their hands on their heads.

(The police were looking for Tsarnaev, but everyone was a criminal as far as the cops were concerned. Contrary to what the media has been spinning, the police were not protecting anyone, nor did they intend to protect anyone except themselves. They were making a statement to anyone who was in Boston that the police were the absolute rulers and anyone who did not obey a police command completely was putting his or her life in peril.)

The sad thing was that most people in Boston not only put up with this, but actually seemed to believe that the show of force and the brutality of the police were for the good of Bostonians. Notes Anthony Gregory:

One doesn’t have to be any sort of radical to be appalled that thousands of police, working with federal troops and agents, would “lockdown” an entire city – shutting down public transit, closing virtually all businesses, intimidating anyone from leaving their home, and going door to door with SWAT teams in pursuit of one suspect. The power of the police to “lockdown” a city is an authoritarian, borderline totalitarian power. A “lockdown” is prison terminology for forcing all prisoners into their cells. They did not do this to pursue the DC sniper, or to go after the Kennedy assassin, and I fear the precedent. It is eerie that this happened in an American city, and it should be eerie to you, no matter where you fall on the spectrum. You can tell me that most people in Boston were happy to go along with it, but that’s not really the point, either. If two criminals can bring an entire city to its knees like this with the help of the state, then terrorism truly is a winning strategy.

Massachusetts is a Progressive state and Boston is the epitome of Progressive Political Correctness. It is the home of numerous prestigious colleges and universities that practically birthed PC, at least on the East Coast, and it is a veritable center of Statism. As a Democratic Party stronghold, it helps set the trend to where Democrats are headed, and given the fact that U.S. political demographics are such that the Democratic Party will dominate the White House into perpetuity, it is important to know what these people are thinking.

Only a few decades ago, Massachusetts Democrats such as former Governor Michael Dukakkis (the Democratic nominee for president in 1988) believed in civil liberties and were outspoken against police state tactics. It is clear that those days are gone, as Democrats are as enthusiastic as typical conservative Republicans for paramilitary police, snarling police dogs, and all of the boy toys that accompany the modern “warrior cop.”

It gets worse. As I recently noted in an LRC blog post, Progressive Massachusetts does not have capital punishment, but Democratic officials there and elsewhere want Tsarnaev tried under federal law, which does have the death penalty. Such things give cynicism a bad name.

So, we have martial law imposed in a situation that clearly did not call for such drastic action, paramilitary police goons roughing up innocent people in a neighborhood, and police incompetence keeping authorities from finding an allegedly dangerous suspect. And out of all this comes effusive praise for the police and their police state tactics.

One can argue that the music began in Boston almost 240 years ago as American colonials rebelled against what they saw as British police state actions. Now we can say that the music has stopped in that same city, and since the authorities have imposed martial law and received massive public praise for their actions, Americans can expect more of it.

April 23, 2013

William L. Anderson, Ph.D. [send him mail], teaches economics at Frostburg State University in Maryland, and is an adjunct scholar of the Ludwig von Mises Institute. He also is a consultant with American Economic Services. Visit his blog.

Copyright © 2013 by LewRockwell.com. Permission to reprint in whole or in part is gladly granted, provided full credit is given.

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Notice “MILITARY POLICE” on the rear quarter panel of the HUMVEE. We joyously welcome the grand opening of the national security state! FREE DONUTS FOR ALL!

Mike31…….totally disgusted…and out.