Blogger Problem of late

My blog was caught up in the Blogger problem that has run for over a week now. I lost one I had in development and had to reload the entire deal. I will be back at it just as soon as I get stuff back in order.

I apologize for the problem.

A big thanks for those hanging in during the problem times of Blogger!

H

Both times I was involved with the Navy SEALs - 10 May 11

Because I have recently re-connected with one of the prime players in these events, I am taking this post down to possibly revise it because of the memories of the others that were there when these events happened.I will repost this with updated details when I finalize them.

Thanks,
John Howard






I had the opportunity, might I say pleasure, to be involved with the Navy SEALs some time back. I hadn’t had the occasion to recall it until just recently – you all know the recent reason.

The first opportunity came as a real surprise; I had no idea they were even in the area. The occasion was some twelve years after their initial organization and outside of Vietnam, they really, at least to my knowledge, hadn’t had any other activity.

Navy SEALs Trident

172nd Infantry Brigade (Separate & Light)

172nd Support Battalion

Current activity - What I’m up to – 28 Apr 11

I am once again actively engaged in documenting a gaggle of adventures that I used during my career in materials management, primarily in the manufacturing field at numerous sites throughout Texas. These “stories” I used repeatedly during my career to highlight points and as a way to ingest circumstances into a discussion of “what we are trying to do” and how others got into like situations and what took place enabling them to remove themselves from the situation.

I found these stories to be very beneficial to those working for and with me. I used this tactic of storytelling to present like facts and encouraged the discussion of these facts, all the while twisting the events related around until the group finally realized that they were actually discussing our current event and actually had already began developing solutions to remedy the trouble.

Over the years I discovered that those involved in the discussions enjoyed hearing and analyzing the military related stories more than their civilian counterparts. It dawned on me, something I had always known, that everybody likes to play Army even though they won’t go out and join up – they still like to play. I think this is the primary reason that they usually wanted to hear a military related situation as opposed to a civilian.

Bare in mind; the stories that I am gathering have a military setting, but are actually just about people. One could draw a direct relationship between any one of my stories and a civilian operation. The stories, in the Army are called “war stories,” but actually not a one involves war at all. They are support troops doing what support troops do – the exact same things that their civilian counterparts do everyday of the world.

I have passed a great many of them around to get the comments of others and have found most to be favorable. I continue to work at achieving a balance between military and civilian situations – not for my benefit – just to satisfy those nay-sayers that don’t believe the general populous will read a manuscript containing a majority of military references. I disagree as my experience has proven otherwise – but I continue to please.

I have established my goal for completion to be within the next couple of months and then the hard part actually begins. I have really enjoyed the writing effort as it has brought back memories of some real good times and even better acquaintances – some of whom I would really enjoy talking with (read shooting the bull) just one more time. I treasure these guys and will never forget them. They are the individuals that maid me who I am today. Without them, I would (just maybe) be a completely different individual. I’m just guessing here!

Pancho Villa and Old stuff of value - 20 Apr 11

I noticed just the other day that some guy named Dave out in El Paso has the trigger finger of Pancho Villa for sale in his pawn shop. Says it’s been there for seven years and they don’t even move it when they clean around the window case it is displayed in.

This got me to thinking. Maybe I have some stuff in my superior storage facility that might be worth some cash just like ole Pancho’s index finger – just maybe if the wife hasn’t thrown them out while I had my head turned the other day. I usually try to keep a very close eye on her when she turns to the spring cleaner persona – a real close eye. One just never knows when the exact right opportunity may come along and I just might need that Brownie box camera from the 1940s (earlier maybe) or a pink granite rock core that my Dad and I saved from a job on a missile silo in Wyoming in 1965 – that’s gotta be worth somethin’ to somebody!

I also have some memories and a story or two concerning the cult hero D. B. Cooper. I’ve discussed what I know with the FBI – at the time they were interested, but who knows anymore? Out there in my garage I have the actual combat boots I was wearing the very day a FBI agent and I observed a prime suspect thought maybe to actually be D. B. Cooper – imagine that. That was just one of the many clandestine operations I participated in – the only one with the FBI by-the-way.

Many of the items I have maintained (maintained being a loosely used term in this case) in storage are connected to my roughnecking days working with my Dad on one of his drilling rigs. I have the occasional rock bit and even a diamond bit used to cut core samples from North Dakota to Texas and Mississippi to Wyoming – well traveled, don’t ya think?.

There’s also the wardrobe box that stores my military uniforms – everything from dress blues to dress greens, several kaki and summer weight uniforms, multiple sets of fatigues (un-camo style) and a camouflaged field jacket – the pattern is probably a little dated.

I hesitate to not provide details on the following, but in the time both you and I will allow for this little side track I have determined to just go with as few details as needed to describe the artifacts – you can use your own imagination to supply the rest.

On the wall is a Quetico Provincial Park - Boundary Waters map (Ely, MN and the area surrounding the US and Canadian borders) detailing the 135 mile canoe trip in 1962 taken with an Explorer Scout organization

Small (2” tall by 2” long) hand carved ivory depiction of two polar bears humping

Wine box from Buckingham Palace (bottle no longer available) compliments of my daughter and son-in-law’s trip to England some years back

Big box of original Lincoln Logs (circa 1952)

Callaway-Jones (labeled) folding funeral home chair (ready for the graveside)

Singer sewing machine with cabinet and sewing table (really old – my mother used it when I was a kid)

Steel military filing drawer with contents – stackable, you have to provide the partners – (circa Alaska 1971)

Leather horse collar (horse currently missing) (circa 1940s, maybe earlier)

Louis-Marx & Company Diesel Type Electric Train set with remote control (circa 1952) – it probably will work

Coleman cook stove (circa Alaska 1971)

Coleman catalytic heater (circa Alaska 1971 also)

Boy Scout manual (circa 1925) plus many more of later publication

Boy Scout first aid kit (circa 1960)

Ahooga horn (ready for install – don’t have the slightest idea when this was manufactured – go here to hear the sound: http://www.assuredautomotiveproducts.com/AHOOGA-Vintage-Replica-Horn-AKA-AOOGA-OOGA-Antique-Sound-ACHRKS-612c.htm

Telephone fishing apparatus (used in swamps of Louisiana in 1930s and 1940s) – also used on neighbor kids every year of my boyhood – we never learned about that jolt!

More Army regulations and field//technical manuals than you can imagine (wife threw a lot out before I caught her)

VB Boots size 8R (vapor barrier boots – circa Alaska 1970)

Miniature whisky bottle collection (100 different brands maybe) – collected between 1960 & 1973

2 slightly bent (maybe a little more than slightly) 24” pipe wrenches – roughnecking tools of the trade (circa 1954)

3 finger fielder’s mitt (circa 1955)

Professional style weight bench (weights included) – only slightly used (circa 1980)

2 typewriters (1) Smith-Corona electric Deville Cartridge with carrying case with several cartridges (circa 1982) and (2) Royal Aristocrat (non-electric – manual if you may), ribbon intact, purchased at yard sale and survived first two initial resume blitzes after departing the Army.

You just gotta know that some of this stuff is worth a lot of money – to somebody. I sitting here ready and waiting on the influx of buyers. Hope they come before the pups and I have our afternoon Graham cracker break – we don’t take any interruptions during that time.

Changing Values and Attitudes – 28 Mar 11

The changing attitudes and values isn’t something that takes place overnight. A shift in this area of human nature usually takes place over an extended period of time, if at all. That’s what the experts tell you.

Regarding values, I have to differ with the experts. I know that shifts in values can take place in a manner of weeks. I’ve seen an individual’s whole outlook on his worth to society change drastically – I do mean drastically. Sometimes I have seen these changes take place almost over night and sometimes I have seen it take just a bit longer. I’m gonna relate to you the story of one particular individual where I observed a change that was so miraculous that his supervisors had trouble fathoming the change.

In the first section I ever had the chance to lead during my tenure in the Army, I had an individual named PFC Conway. PFC Conway was a draftee and was going nowhere and getting there very fast. My guy Conway was a young black kid from the area known as Upper Harlem, a impoverished district of New York City. He came from nothing, had nothing and was headed toward more of the same. His attitude wasn’t especially BAD, but it wasn’t the BEST either. The NCOs (two white and one black as it just so happens) in the section sorta tolerated Conway. He received more than his share of the shit details and slogged his way through them as best he could – not great results, but just barely getting by – sorta really flying under-the-radar.

A little background is relevant here. The platoon my section was assigned to was authorized thirty-seven vehicles. My section had five of the thirty-seven (1, ¼ ton Jeep [incidentally the oldest military vehicle in the state of Alaska], 2, ¾ ton Cargo Truck (pick-ups) and 2, 2 ½ ton Cargo Trucks (box trucks). At I have mentioned before in other correspondence, only five of the thirty-seven vehicles would start and run long enough to move to our new motor pool – a travel of less than ¼ mile. Not one of the vehicles assigned to my section would even start. It was late November, almost December, when the occurrence that I will relate took place. We had a mission to perform and vehicle maintenance wasn’t getting the attention it deserved – this was my thinking at the time.

Having just been attached to a Transportation unit, I knew this wasn’t gonna go over well and figured my best bet was to get ahead of the problem. My section had been allotted a commercial vehicle from the post transportation motor pool for our daily travels – re-supplying the brigade. I decided it was best to turn in that vehicle as soon as I was sure two of my own vehicles were consistently running, one of the 2 ½ tons for sure. I then spent some time at the unit maintenance shop seeing that my vehicles received some attention. Within a couple of days the maintenance officer had two running. I was now ready to try to get by on my own with my assigned vehicles – sorta novel approach, don’t you think?

I ask who had driver’s licenses and not one of those assigned to my section had a military license. I directed the NCOIC to send some of the guys to get a license as soon as we could possibly do so. You might already guess who got selected as the first to be the first tested – someone who would not be missed – ever-dispensable Conway.

The next afternoon Conway came back in from driver’s school. Actually the classes were taught by several of the transportation platoon NCOs and there wasn’t very much to it as I later learned. At any rate Conway had passed and had been issued a military driver’s license – a surprise to all. I called PFC Conway into my office and discussed the situation with him. I laid it all out: “Conway. I am assigning you to be the driver of the 2 ½ ton Cargo Truck we just got running yesterday.” I sat back awaiting his response.

Conway replied: “Sir, I’m from New York City and I ride either the subway or the bus. I’ve never driven a vehicle before in my life until this morning. And then I only went around the parking lot just once.”

“Well Conway, now you’re it. You’re our driver.”

You might guess what kind of look I received. He wasn’t happy – not in the least. You could see the gears turning, figuring. He was now gonna spend more than his share of time in the Alaskan cold. There would be a lot of early mornings - cleaning off his truck and performing on-your-back maintenance in the snow under the truck. It just wasn’t gonna be pleasant any more. He had had it pretty good up to that point – shit details notwithstanding. He was the goof-off that got by because of the perception of a bad attitude.

He had never fit in with the rest of the section; eleven other guys, none of which were black – a mixture of white or Hispanic. Now his role was changing. He might no longer be under-the-radar.

A couple weeks after our discussion and into PFC Conway’s new responsibilities, the section was detailed to send a contingent of four on a huge winter exercise in the Fairbanks area. Well, as Conway was the only driver I had and our mission had to continue at Fort Richardson, Conway could not go – somebody still had to make the daily resupply trips. This one condition seemed to light just the slightest fire in Conway’s eyes. The guys deployed north would have a pretty rough time. They would be sorta step children to the rest of the unit deployed - but would survive. Conway had a pretty easy two weeks – picking up supplies and delivering them here and there while he was inside his toasty warm 2 ½ ton three hundred miles south of the harsh times of his section mates.

A couple of months passed by and Conway with HIS vehicle were available every day. Oh, others eventually got their license but Conway was always the first out to get HIS truck every morning and ready to go.

I eventually had another occasion to sit and discuss with him how he and HIS truck were doing. Right outta the blue he said: “Sir, I never had my own car. Man, if the guys on the block could just see me now.” He was as happy as any one individual could be. He looked different; his uniform was sharp and pressed everyday. He was proud of what he was doing; particularly when he was driving HIS truck.

Within the next month, I managed to get Conway promoted to Specialist Fourth Class. This brought a fairly significant pay increase to boot – not a whole lot you realize; after all it was the Army in the early 70s. But you couldn’t touch SP4 Conway with a ten foot pole. I’m serious.

Conway’s values had changed for the better, first by changing for the worse. But they had changed. Right along with his values, his attitude had improved just as fast.

I can go on and on relating situation after situation and troop after troop; civilian workers also who’s values were changed by just the slightest bit of responsibility.

Long story short, values can be changed right along with attitudes and beliefs. All things considered, values may actually be the easiest to change when the right circumstances present themselves. The right guy and the right set of circumstances.

Extra Right Hand - 25 Mar 11

Have you ever wished you had just one more hand to help you get the job done?

Early in my career I did and was fortunate enough for one to come along at just the right time. Things probably couldn’t have worked out better if I had planned them myself.

I was a struggling young 1^st Lieutenant in the Army in Alaska when this wondrous event took place. I was in charge of the Supply Platoon in the 172^nd Support Battalion in support of the 172^nd Infantry Brigade (Separate & Light) assigned to Fort Richardson, Alaska. I say it was a wondrous event largely because I still wonder why I was so lucky to have been the beneficiary. Trying to remember back to that time a real long time ago is tough so I’m gonna just wing it. I believe I got lucky in the late summer of 1971; it could have been later than that, but it doesn’t really matter for what I’m trying to get across.

At the time of my arrival, I had been assigned the position of Asst-Section Leader of the Class II & VII Section within the Supply Platoon. There was a Transportation 2LT holding the position at the time as there were no open slots for a TC officer currently. This situation didn’t last but a week or two. After arriving in command on 03 Nov 1970, the platoon was detached from our parent company (B Company – Maintenance and Supply) and attached to the 49^th Transportation Company to form a provisional Supply and Transportation company to support the brigade’s operations on 17 Nov 1970. This, by-the-way was the first of several provisional (or test) units I would be assigned to during my military career.

The Supply Platoon was authorized a total of 70 personnel, four of which were officers (3 commissioned and 1 warrant) with the remaining 66 enlisted. As I mentioned there were two of us in the section and the sole remaining officer was the platoon leader, a 1LT at the time – he will remain nameless for reasons you will understand later. On the 21^st of November I became the Section Leader as our TC 2LT was transferred to our new unit command – this left only the platoon leader and myself as the only officers of the 42 personnel in the 70 man platoon. I was not to see the warrant officer (ammunition supply) until some three years later shortly before leaving the command. Of course you understand that the main reason we were so short of personnel was that the Viet Nam exercise was still being conducted in South East Asia.

By the second week in January, the platoon leader had disappeared. I say disappeared as I don’t know what happened to him and never heard of his subsequent disposition. The cause became apparent very soon. The command was in the middle of a visit by the Army Audit Agency – a very scary occurrence if you have never experienced one. Come to find out, the platoon leader had been privy to the misappropriation of petroleum stocks and was in cahoots with several enlisted personnel also in the platoon – they disappeared about the same time. The audit agency had uncovered this not very long after arriving. This was a bad situation to say the least and I began to wonder what I had got myself into. These guys were going to jail and not just any jail; it was gonna be a federal jail.

In any event, the battalion assigned a 1LT from the Brigade Supply office as the platoon leader – I guess their thinking was that it would be better to have someone with some Alaskan time under their belt than a greenhorn just up from the Lower 48 without one winter of experience. I didn’t have anything to say about the matter; just a new 2LT and no real close associations whatsoever at the time.

Our new platoon leader, having been assigned to a staff element the entire time he had been in the command, had zero troop experience and this began to grind on all concerned. He didn’t want to be there either – my take was that he was actually scared of the accountability issue. I say this due to the fact that when battalion had to place a new Accountable Officer on orders, they chose me instead of him. I asked for edification but never received a good answer.

Here I was: in charge of a section with half the staff to operate it, accountable for all the supplies flowing into the brigade (excluding repair parts) and not in command of three quarters of the personnel or the supplies//transactions, a very junior Quartermaster officer in a unit ripe with Transportation officers (a commander, an XO and four platoon leaders) – outnumbered very much so, and a platoon leader that was getting on everybody’s nerves.

By summer our platoon leader had managed to get transferred to the major command and was again back into a staff position. I learned of this during a walk-around in the back yard of the unit motor pool with my new Company Commander – the original commander having been reassigned also.

This situation left me as the only (school trained) Quartermaster officer in the company. There was one other in the battalion but he was not to remain much longer as he was soon to be released from the service. There were two other Quartermaster officers in Brigade Supply but the were recent branch transfers from the Infantry and had no idea whatsoever about accountability, supply and support operations or how to accomplish the related functions. We were not in great shape at all.

By this time MY platoon was down to 33 total personnel (1 officer – me – and 32 enlisted). I might mention that we had 37 vehicles to maintain plus a hoard of various support equipment. Our supply//support mission included (1) ration (food), (2) general equipment, (3) bulk petroleum and packaged oils and lubricants, (4) construction and barrier material, (5) ammunition, and (6) major end items (trucks, trailers, tanks, etc). There was no lack of support requirements to fulfill – it never let up. We were always on the go.

I was compared once to a lighthouse: in a continuous turn from one problem ,situation or support mission to the next. This is when the best possible thing that could have happen did happen. The transportation platoons received more replacements than they had authority to hold on to – how this took place, I never found out. You might say there was a lot of a lack of goings-on on my part – that’s just the way it was. My platoon sergeant showed up one morning with four replacements for the five personnel we had just seen rotate outta the command – all were school trained truck drivers - one of which was actually a truck driver in civilian life – and all were draftees.

The platoon sergeant recommended that three of the four go to the petroleum section and we make the fourth the platoon headquarters driver – an authorized position that had not been filled during my tenure. I went along with his recommendation. That’s how PFC Frank Lefevers, Jr. became my driver. Yah, it took a long time to get here but you have to understand the situation to understand the impact of Frank.

Previously I mentioned that we had 37 vehicles and 33 personnel – that’s where our numbers still remained when Frank joined the platoon. I might add here that when the unit was attached to the 49^th TC, only five of the 37 vehicles were able to move from our B Company motor pool to the 49^th motor pool under their own power. One of the no-goes was my jeep – the very same one that Frank was now assigned to drive. We had constant problems keeping it going – I later learned that my jeep was the oldest transportation asset in the entire command.

It was within the first week that Frank had remedied the no-go jeep. He assisted the other drivers with getting the remaining vehicles up-to-snuff. Before you knew it they were all going and Frank was still a PFC – not enough time in to be promoted to SP4 yet.

Frank took on a conglomeration of little tasks relieving me of some of the run-here and do-that stuff that had previously taken a lot of my time. I did these because I didn’t have the personnel or assets to get them done otherwise.

I spent our time together mentoring Frank on our mission and the common sense of doing what was right under particular circumstances. This logic was not hard to get across as Frank had a great understanding of life in general and a very high degree of integrity – I was lucky. Frank could look at things and know right away if they were right or wrong. Now don’t get me wrong, Frank had not the authority to act in my stead; only the knowledge to report back to me the circumstances he observed – after all we were in the Army. Many times Frank would return from a observation visit I had ask him to conduct and deliver me back to the problem post haste so I could correct what needed to be – many times.

I believe that Frank became the conduit from disgruntled platoon members to me because the others could see the integrity he had and they were sure he wouldn’t misrepresent a situation – only insure that I was inadvertently carried by the problem in the normal course of our daily activities. I figured this out early but never let on – it was to my advantage to do so.

As soon as it was possible I made sure Frank was promoted to Specialist 4^th Class.

I recall one situation in February of 1974 during a deployment from FT Rich to Fort Greely, way up in the interior, a convoy distance of some 355 miles. This routinely required an overnight at a halfway stop over point. But in this situation, we were a week ahead of the main body moving up the road and constituted a convoy of our own two vehicles and four tractors and trailers from our sister transportation platoon. I also might mention that by this time I had developed a fairly high distrust and dislike of truck drivers in general – that is, with the exception of one – until this very day those feeling still hold pretty true.

Due to some unfortunate happenstances during our travel we ended up traveling an additional 259 miles (a total of 594 miles overall) and taking 36 hours to complete our journey. The only driver to remain behind the wheel the entire time was Frank Lefevers, Jr. – the only one. The others drivers slept and lazed about while Frank, our platoon sergeant and I maneuvered up and back, over and over again ferrying disabled vehicles attempting to finish our travel with those we started with. He never once asked for relief – by the way, there wouldn’t have been any to give. Upon arrival at Ft Greely, we still had to set up our bivouac area and report back to battalion that we had arrived – this taking another four hours or so. (see my story “Up and Back and Up Again” for complete details – when published). I would challenge anybody to match Frank’s durability and stamina during this undertaking.

After a year or so, Frank’s reputation became know throughout the battalion and I had my share of challengers for his services. From the Battalion Commander to my own Company Commander – they all wanted him to be their driver. They recognized his value. I managed to convince every one of them that I needed him more than they did and Frank echoed that same notion – he liked where he was and treasured it. Frank held this same position, my driver and close confidant, until such time as I left the platoon after having been promoted to captain and having to do so some three years after arriving.

I wouldn’t have traded Frank Lefevers, Jr. for any other individual I served with during the entire twelve years of my military career – not one. By far the best extra Right Hand I ever had.

Left to right: Frank, Crumbliss, Me, Fitzsimmons and Hoey

I realize this has been longer than usual, but sometimes it’s required.

Social Security Trust Fund Contributions - 22 Mar 11

We’ve all heard quite a lot about the Social Security Trust Fund in the news lately. I had to laugh the other day when reading the article, “What Social Security trust fund?’” written by Charles Krauthammer of the Washington Post (13 Mar 11) when he said such things as:

(1) “The claim is a breathtaking fraud.” (Referring to the Obama administration’s claim – “As Office of Management and Budget Director Jack Lew wrote in USA Today just a few weeks ago, the trust fund is solvent until 2037. Therefore, Social Security is now off the table in debt-reduction talks.”)

(2) “The Social Security trust fund is fiction.”

(3) “So the Social Security trust fund contains – nothing.”

(4) “The lockbox, the balances, the pieces of paper, amount to nothing.”

Now I don’t know if all this is true or not. This is not my beef. I’ve got my feet planted and I’m barking up another tree. Although, if you are depending on the Social Security Trust Fund to be there when you retire, as I am; this is most likely very important to you. Most of us probably have the very same outlook – we hope it’s out there!

But, no. I’m gonna head in another direction entirely.

Upon departing the military after twelve years, I spent the next twenty-five working in various manufacturing industries throughout more than several locals in Texas. A great many of you out there have done so also and may be familiar with what I am about to address. I positive you will be.

Over and over again, I saw members of the workforce that I just knew, in my military mind, could not possibly be citizens and may not, for that matter, have the correct documentation. Upon addressing the problem to my local Human Resource constabulary, I routinely received the same answer: “We have a procedure to check and their paper (driver’s license, etc) looked good and so did their Social Security card.” These employees always had a friend already employed who vouched for them and helped them get their job. Invariably, everywhere I worked this was the case.

Well OK, their paper looked OK. So what’s the beef?

I’ll tell you what’s the beef. My problem is that I don’t know “where’s the beef?” Even Carla wants to know. Every payroll on everyone of those papers-looked-good individuals money was withheld and sent off to the Social Security Administration. The employer also paid his fair share into the “Trust Fund.”

So, if let’s just say some of those Social Security Numbers (SSNs) were real account numbers, but most likely didn’t actually really belong to the local-current-card-holder. So, why didn’t something happen?

Let’s assume that the original holder was alive and kickin’. Wouldn’t the Social Security Administration notice that they were getting contributions from two separate employers and addresses. They can’t be that dense up there in Washington, can they? You probably have an opinion on this already.

And in the case of an individual who had become deceased at some point earlier, either before receiving payments or after payments had been stopped upon death; wouldn’t you think they would notice that also? I do.

I know there are those of you out there that know of what I speak. I know you know individuals who fit the mold that I address here. They are everywhere in our workforce. At the numbers the authorities assume exist undocumented within our borders, they would have to be. Maybe the term documented is where the confusion comes in. If they hold a Social Security card; are they now documented?

As best I can tell, the Social Security Trust Fund should show a SURPLUS. If my theory be true, just if; where’s the beef?