2013 was a year of further cutbacks in military spending.
Unfortunately, this means fewer military flyovers – from burials with full military honors to big events.
Well, Americans did step up to the plate at Arrowhead Stadium.
Forty-nine pilots flying their own planes made for a spine-tingling, most memorable flyover.
They only people missing were Ronnie and John Wayne.
(Thanks to Lou Smith)
My best to you, America, for the New Year.
I’m sorry, nice-minded bloggers…
But this REALLY a prime-time sucky.
Worse than a twerky even.
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It’s not just Obama approving a paltry 1% pay increase for our military… It’s that a military man or woman can’t support his or her family. Paltry pay. And it keeps getting worse.
Please view the related short news broadcast and news print by clicking on the image below… Hear the extent of the horrendous impact on our military and veterans – AND THEIR FAMILIES.
And remember, they got SEQUESTERED earlier this year. More cuts in household income.
Alternate direct link: http://video.foxnews.com/v/2966371566001/growing-need-for-govt-assistance-among-military-men-women/#
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You don’t need to be accurate to get your point across.
Congress people pay themselves somewheres over $150,000 a year – certainly no ILLICIT income, of course – and don’t get shot at or maimed. They take LONG recesses (i.e., vacations), too.
And Obama sends these poor guys and gals to get shot at? At less than a $20,000 salary? (And he takes vacations to Hawai’i costing us MILLIONS each time.)
But wounded or disabled vets? THEY should get lifetime pay.
Period.
Not the self-centered bozos in Washington, DC.
Period.
Rant over.
Sorry.
Today, I thought I’d visit with Old Man Jack for a while. I didn’t drive my supercharged and unmufflered Grabber Orange Mustang to visit him although he loved it so much. It looked like rain. But I did take a cigar with me.
I know he didn’t mind the cigar.
He said it “doesn’t smell much better than the stinkin’ islands…but anything smelled better than those stinkin’ islands”.
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He would reminisce much more frequently about the war on those islands when it involved “fun memories” and I recalled one while chatting with him today at his grave. Believe me, whether it be a “fun” memory or not, a tear or two always tags along.
Old Man Jack always described the islands in the Southwest Pacific to be “those stinkin’ islands”. He had said that while things always stunk, “everything smelled like shit”. Pardon the French but those are the words expressed by the now old man who was back then a young boy of nineteen. Hell, put it into perspective. That spoiled young singer Justin Bieber is nineteen. I’ll leave it at that.
“When I got there, I wondered why things smelled like shit,” he said with his trademark grin. The one where the left corner of his mouth rises. “Well, I was a dumb shit punk myself back then.”
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We had been touring the mock up of the CV-6 carrier deck (USS Enterprise) at the Chino Planes of Fame Museum back in 2003. Our friendship had begun solidifying by then. I had taken him there primarily to see his beloved F4U Corsair so this was a side trip at the museum.
On the “flight deck” was a Douglass SBD-5 Dauntless dive bomber.
One thing he immediately spit out was after seeing the plane was, “That rear seat is just a metal plate. You sat on your parachute for a cushion…” He then continued, “…and those were twin .30’s back there.”
He told me once a Navy dive bomber pilot “grabbed him by the collar” early on and told him to get into the rear seat “quick-like”. I remember asking him why because at that time, I didn’t know he was certified to fly. In typical Old Man Jack fashion, he quipped, “‘Cuz I was the only one there.” Accent on the “there”, please.
“Well, we were flying up there. Man, that parachute made for a lousy cushion,” he said. “Then a Zero got on our six…and then I saw these little flashes. I figured out real quick he was shooting at us.” Jack’s still got that grin on his face.
“The pilot yelled, Shoot, you son of a bitch! Shoot! Shoot! So I did.”
“The pilot kept yelling, Shoot! Shoot!“. Then I yelled, “I did! I did!”
He wasn’t afraid to say it. Jack said he got so scared he just laid on the triggers and didn’t let go. There was only about 15 seconds worth of rounds. He had fired off all his ammo.
“Man, I heard every god damn cuss word from that pilot,” he chuckled, still with that trademark grin.
But then he ended it by saying, “…And whoo-ee, I crapped in my pants… And that’s how I figured out why everything smelled like shit.”
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I never asked him what happened to that Zero…or if they successfully dropped their bomb…or what happened to that Navy pilot.
But one thing is for sure. I would have liked to have seen Justin Bieber in that back seat behind those twin .30s.
I’m sure his voice would get even higher…permanently…and would have needed a diaper change.
Real men don’t wear diapers. Jack sure as hell didn’t. He just shit in his pants and wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
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I enjoyed our chat today, Jack.
And I’ll be sure to drive the Mustang next time so you can hear it.
Miss you.
Day after tomorrow – two years ago – Old Man Jack left us. He would be free of his nightmares of war which plagued him nightly for seventy years. While it is self-serving to reblog your own story, I am reblogging this for the sake of men like him who gave away their youth to serve in hell. People today need to KNOW and REMEMBER. I regret the huge majority of Americans today are ignorant of what people had to do so that we can enjoy – and complain – of what we have today.
Rest in peace, Jack. I will try to visit you today to say hi.
“Koji, don’t let anyone tell you different. War makes good boys do crazy things.”
That was the first time Old Man Jack shared something with me about the war in a voice of unfeigned remorse. In turn, it was one of my first journeys in his time machine in which he allowed me to ride along.
Front row seats. Free of charge.
It was in 2002 to the best of my recollection. It was just before my littlest firecracker was born.
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KA-BAR. If you are a World War II US Marine who served on “those stinkin’ islands”, there is no explanation necessary.
A KA-BAR was a Marine’s most prized personal possession. It was always at their side.
They opened their C-rations with it. Dug foxholes with it. Chopped coconut logs with it. Hammered nails with it. Indestructible.
Most importantly, for killing. Designed for slashing and stabbing. Desperate hand-to-hand combat. To the death.
The KA-BAR…
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I wish I was the only citizen voting ‘cuz it’ll be sayonara for you idiots in Congress.
During my visit to my father’s childhood home in Hiroshima last summer, I was entrusted with hundreds of vintage family photos and mementos. I brought them back here stateside, promising my Hiroshima family I would “restore” them.
Well, after a good start, I developed a painful case “tennis elbow” from using the mouse so much during the retouching process. Sadly, it came to a screeching halt sometime in November last year.
But one very, very special item was entrusted with me – my Uncle Suetaro’s war diary.
Although born an American citizen in Seattle with the rest of his siblings, he was writing this war diary as a sergeant in the Japanese Imperial Army.
The last entry was a farewell letter to his Mother.
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The photo above had been secreted away behind another photo that was in Uncle Suetaro’s album. He meticulously kept the album up to the time of war. His oldest brother, my Uncle Yutaka, had conscientiously sent him family photos they had taken in Chicago and Los Angeles before imprisonment. Suetaro complimented the photos with his beautiful Japanese calligraphy, written in a silver, whitish ink.
The photo of Uncle Suetaro and my dad shown at the beginning was so very tiny – but there was something Uncle Suetaro loved about it to keep it. I wish I knew what it was.
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Uncle Suetaro was killed as a sergeant major of the Japanese Imperial Army on Leyte apparently near a town called “Villaba”. Below is an actual page from a “war diary”, an official report written and published by the US Army. Villaba is located on the western shore of Leyte but not far from Ormoc Bay, which was a killing field for Japanese ships by US aircraft.
His remains were never recovered. In the family grave are his tiny pieces of his fingernails and a lock of hair. It was custom at that time to leave parts of your earthly body with your family as returning was unlikely.
Not much to bury… but it was better than not returning at all.
In a spiritualistic way, he had never left.
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This is his farewell letter to his Mother (my Grandmother).
It is clear it was very hurriedly written.
With the help of my cousin Kiyoshi in Hiroshima and my dad, we’ve typed up Uncle Suetaro’s farewell letter – complete with old Japanese characters and translated as best possible into English. When reading this, please remember these are the words as written as a soldier going off to fight the Americans – but he was once a young American boy born in Seattle, WA.
(Note: Green indicates an edit inserted for clarification purposes.)
His farewell send-off is pictured below. Masako-san believes Suetaro wrote the letter around this time. It was at gatherings such as this when a Japanese soldier was given a “good luck” battle flag – the ones that many WWII combat veterans “removed from the battlefield” as souvenirs. There are many cases now where their sons and daughters – or grandchildren – are making efforts to return such flags to the Japanese families.
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Bertrand Russell wrote, “War does not determine who is right – only who is left.”
He is correct.
On a much smaller scale, though, Grandmother Kono was all who was left in that house when war’s end came. Her precious son Suetaro – who she kept from returning to America for the purpose of keeping the Kanemoto name going – was dead. She was now alone. I wonder how she felt.
A mother’s anguished solitude.
(For other related stories:
A Mother’s Anguished Solitude, Part I
Thank you, CNN.
Thank you for blowing up this “Government Shutdown” bull shit way out of proportion.
You know. It’s no shutdown. It’s a slimdown. It doesn’t even qualify for a Weight Watcher’s sign-up special.
CNN, your exaggerated threats on world TV and the internet – and by siding with the White House – did negatively affect a diminishing group of our most patriotic citizens… Our Greatest Generation.
Yessiree, CNN. You made them break laws. Shame on you, CNN
Read about these WWII veterans in the sunset of their lives not willing to be denied their last and only chance to visit their own memorial erected in their name. Just as they stormed the hedgerows in France 70 years ago, they stormed stupid barricades set up by their own Government. Just click on this link: WWII Memorial Read about their triumphant last skirmish…against their own Government’s stupidity. The Government their comrades in arms gave their lives for.
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And answer me this, CNN… Who does Michelle have on HER payroll…and NOT furloughed?
Report on that, please.
Nah… Of course you won’t.
After a sergeant in the Marine Corps reached mandatory age and got mustered out, he entered civilian life and became a high school teacher. Just before the school year started, the former enlisted Marine injured his back. He was required to wear a plaster cast around the upper part of his body. Fortunately, the cast fit under his shirt and wasn’t noticeable.
On the first day of class, he found himself assigned to the toughest students in the school. The smart-aleck punks, having already heard the new teacher was a Marine, were leery of him and he knew they would be testing his discipline in the classroom.
Walking confidently into the rowdy classroom, the new teacher opened the window wide and sat down at his desk. When a strong breeze made his tie flap, he picked up a stapler and stapled the tie to his chest.
Dead silence…
The rest of the year went very smoothly.
Oo-rah.
…and that’s the way it should be.
Inside my heart is sadness… But that sadness is happily interrupted by great respect and smiles of good times gone by…
https://p47koji.wordpress.com/2012/05/28/two-old-men-and-a-fathers-day-anguish-2/
Masako and Spam Musubi 