Just checking in and wanted to send a very big THANK YOU to all of those who have shown tremendous support to the Soldiers serving over here. My unit recently received a ton of Girl Scout Cookies from three troops in Texas with the help of the local firefighter’s union and longtime supporter Anthony.
I also want to thank all those who sent birhday wishes and checked up on my well being. My apologies for not replying to your comments and emails, but thank you so very much.
In a few hours I’ll be heading home for a little R&R leave. I’ve been so busy recently that I don’t think I’ve had a moment of peace for a long time. I’m looking forward to a couple of weeks to let my hair down. The lovely and talented and downright sexy Mrs Hook informed me the other day that Andrew the Adventurous and Typhoon Tyler of Trieste were cleaning my BBQ grill and when asked why, replied “duh, Dad’s coming home and he’s going to grill everyday.” Indeed I will.
So if you don’t hear from me much over the next couple of weeks, I’ll be out back tending the grill. Sgt Hook out.
On November 10, 2004 an IED exploded near a U.S. convoy operating just outside Ramadi, Iraq severely injuring Staff Sergeant Johnathan Holsey. After his left leg had to be amputated just below the knee, he was certain that his military career was over. SSG Holsey is still serving proudly on active duty today due largely in part to the Army Wounded Warrior Program, or AW2.
While AW2 staffers are dedicated to helping Soldiers and their families cope with life-changing wounds or injuries, program participants say that the essential first step on the long road back to wellness is a very personal one.
“I think it’s always hard for a Soldier to come to grips with the effects of a serious injury, since we always try to stay in the best shape possible and are used to pushing ourselves physically,” Holsey said. “I know it was very hard for me at first, because when I lost my leg I was suddenly faced with the fact that I would never again be able to do things the way I had before. There was also a lot of pain, and that can sap your strength and your will in a way you never imagined.”
The only way for seriously injured or wounded Soldiers to move forward, Holsey believes, is to accept the new realities imposed by the disability.
“You really have to come to grips with the pain and the physical changes, and then you have to move forward and get on with your life,” he said.
I think it safe to say that SSG Holsey’s retention on active duty can also be attributed to his “can do” attitude and warrior spirit. I’m proud of you soldier. Sgt Hook out.
On the 8th of November the angels were crying,
As they carried his brothers away.
With the fire raining down and the hell all around,
There were few men left standing that day.
- Big & Rich
.
I’ve never heard of Big & Rich, nor have I heard their song 8th of November, until today. I’m damned glad that I did.
As a card carrying member of the American Legion, I recieve their magazine monthly, and truth be told, I enjoy reading it. There are usually one or two outstanding articles written by veterans that make for thoughtful contemplation on my part; this month’s periodical was no different.
Retired Marine Lieutenant Colonel George Allen wrote an article about his return to America from Vietnam some 37 years ago.
When I deplaned in Los Angeles, following flights from Vietnam and Okinawa, all I saw were mini-skirts. Later that day, when I exited a plane in Philadelphia, all I saw was my lovely wife, Carolyn. And that night, wanting an evening alone together, we were refused service at a hotel restaurant in Radnor, PA, because I was wearing my Marine uniform with combat ribbons. Such was my homecoming in 1969.
None of this prepared me for what happened last Christmas Eve, in a pharmacy on the south side of Indianapolis. I’d gone to buy some last-minute stocking items for my wife and her mother. After I asked a clerk, who turned out to be the store manager, for help finding an item, she noticed the gold U.S. Marine Corps emblem on a chain around my neck. She asked if we could talk.
Turns out her son is an airman in the U.S. Air Force, probably heading for Iraq, and she’s very proud of him and the man he’s become. But 38 years ago she was a university student in Indiana and actively demonstrating against the Vietnam War, believing it wrong and believing most of what was said about those of us who fought it. Nothing happened in her life during the next three decades to change those views. Then her son enlisted in the U.S. Air Force. When she saw him graduate from basic training and heard him talk of military service as a patriotic duty to his country, she realized there are indeed many men and women, over the years, who have been - and continue to be - willing to risk their lives in service to their country. Her son, her own flesh and blood, was now one of them.
So now, 33 years following the official end of the Vietnam War, she wanted an opportunity not necessarily to thank a veteran but to ask forgiveness from one, for her misguided passion all those years ago. I was to be her veteran
As a Soldier, I respect the hell out of our Vietnam Veterans, though I can’t help but wonder how the rest of our society views these patriotic men and women. LTC Allen hits the nail on the head, and I’m glad that he took the time to share this story with us. Sgt Hook out.
She sat down to the Thanksgiving table, crowded with a cornucopia of delicious looking and wonderfully smelling foods.
He sat down to the Thanksgiving table, crowded with a cornucopia of delicious looking and wonderfully smelling foods.
She ate quietly, mostly listening to the conversations between her parents, sister, brother-in-law, grandmother, and the children, occasionally checking on the baby tucked safely in a bassinet next to her.
He too ate quietly, taking in the talk between his driver, the gunner, the RTO, and other members of the squad, occasionally checking to make sure his M16 was still set securely in the rack at the end of the table.
She wore a simple, but lovely dress and a blue cashmere sweater.
He wore his Army Combat Uniform along with the warm Army issue black fleece.
He longed to be sitting at a different Thanksgiving table halfway around the world.
She longed to be sitting across from her man, and not Uncle Earl.
He looked around the table and realized how thankful he was.
She looked around the table and realized how thankful she was; thankful that she was able to enjoy the holiday meal with her family; her son and her daughter.
He was thankful that the men and women sitting at his table, each covered with a layer of dust and sweat, made it possible for his family to spend Thanksgiving without fear.
After the meal, she got up from the table to check on the children.
After the meal, he got up from the table to check on his Soldiers.
She stepped into the middle of a fight between her son and his cousin, breaking it up, bringing calm to the dispute.
He stepped out of his humvee and into the middle of a firefight, returning fire with his M16 before falling into a sudden overwhelming calm.
She pulled into the driveway, thankful that both kids were sleeping in the backseat.
He was pulled into the UH60 MEDEVAC helicopter, thankful for his body armor before falling into a deep sleep.
She carried each of the children up to their beds, tucking them in and gently kissing their foreheads. “Daddy loves you,” she whispered.
He was carried into the CASH on a stretcher by four sweaty Soldiers, bleeding badly and trying to speak he felt the nurse’s hand on his forehead as she leaned over, placing her ear to his lips he whispered, “Tell my kids I love them.”
Drifting into a deep slumber he heard Guns N’ Roses rendition of Bob Dylan’s Knocking on Heaven’s Door.
Drifting off to sleep she heard in the distance a knock on the door.
He opened his eyes, feeling himself floating upward into the heavens.
She opened her eyes, feeling her heart sink as the knock on the door grew louder. Making her way downstairs she paused at the front door, pulling her robe tighter at the neck with her left hand, she reached for the doorknob with a trembling right hand.
He could see his wife, crying, unable to talk to her or touch her. He saw his son, playing, happy and innocent. He saw for the first time his newborn daughter and felt guilty having missed her birth.
She collapsed into the arms of her best friend who was on the other side of the door when she opened it, delivering the message that her husband had been wounded but was OK and on his way home.
He was thankful to be home with his family again.
She was thankful he was alive.
Holding one another, arm in arm and with tears in their eyes; they were both thankful to be Americans, living in the land of the free, home of the brave.
Residents of Maine have been welcoming troops home from the middle-east as they first touch down on U.S. soil at Bangor International Airport since early 2003. As of today, they’ve greeted just over 300,000 American men and women returning home from combat. The group of greeters meet every plane, no matter the time of day or night, with snacks, drinks, and warm hugs. The tradition began when planes filled with American G.I.s returned from the Gulf War in 1991, and resumed in 2003 as BIA again became the port of entry for returning troops.
The troop greeters, made up of local residents and veterans, began counting in 2003 the military flights they have welcomed from the current military operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. With the 148 soldiers on Smith’s plane, the count came to 300,012.
The Maine Troop Greeters formed during the Gulf War in the early ’90s, welcoming American soldiers back from overseas. BIA has become a pivotal stopping point for many military flights, allowing planes to refuel and greeters to rejuvenate the spirits of America’s soldiers.
Greeters show up to welcome all soldiers, even in the middle of the night. A few dedicated greeters show up for almost all of the flights that pass through the airport.
I’m damn proud of the good folks of Maine. Believe it or not, that small act of appreciation goes a long way in a Soldier’s heart. Sgt Hook out.
This site is a collection of my writings, thoughts, and ramblings and in no way reflects the official positions of the United States Army or the Department of Defense. OPSEC trumps everything.
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In view of a recent tendency to identify characters in fiction with real people, it seems proper to state that there are no real people in this volume: both the characters and their names are ficticious. The names or designations of any military units are ficticious. There are no living people nor existing military units presented in this book.
-Ernest Hemingway
Halfway down the road to hell,
In a shady meadow green,
Are the souls of all dead troopers camped
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddler's Green.
-Author Unknown
The Blog of War
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Winner of the 2006 Gold Medal for Anthologies - Military Writer's Society of America
"This collection is an excellent introduction to an emerging form of war reporting." - Booklist
