Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or at least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, have a reflection on whether I'm going to be the hero in my own life.
...but she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts
She's Cheer Captain and I'm on the bleachers
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you're looking for has been here the whole time~~~Taylor Swift
I had posted this poem, the PipeFitter's Wife this last week, on FACEBOOK. On its own merits, I thought it warranted some reaction; some feedback. Nary a word.
What I draw from the poem, and the benign neglect, is that we as a culture and society can't come to terms with a couple of values anymore. We don't see the blue-collar laborer as an equal, or at least to give some recognition to. And we can't possibly identify with a woman, who in effect, admires her husband~~~from her knees. From this position she worships this man; blue-collar servant, as if he were her king.
THE PIPEFITTER'S WIFE:
I loved him most
when he came home from work,
his fingers still
curled from fitting pipe,
his denim shirt ringed with sweat
and smelling of salt, the drying weeds
of the ocean.
I would go to him where he sat
on the edge of the bed, his forehead
anointed with grease, his cracked hands
jammed between his thighs, and unlace
the steel-toed boots, stroke his ankles
his calves, the pads and bones of his feet.
Then I'd open his clothes and take
the whole day inside me-the ship's
gray sides, the miles of copper pipe,
the voice of the first man clanging
off the hull's silver ribs,
spark of lead
kissing metal, the clamp, the winch,
the white fire of the torch, the whistle
and the long drive home. Dorianne Laux
If that was my chosen path...
--{-=@
Hickok
The Promise
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Flower Living in the Memory of a Tired, Wet, Marine
Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or at least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, have a reflection on whether I'm going to be the hero in my own life.
...have you ever looked fear in the face And said I just don't care?
Glitter in the Air~~~Pink Paulo Antunes
Historical footnotes for this week:
June 25, 1950~~~is the historical start of the Korean War.
On 25 June 1950, the young Cold War suddenly turned hot, bloody and expensive. Within a few days, North Korea's invasion of South Korea brought about a United Nations' "police action" against the aggressors. That immediately produced heavy military and naval involvement by the United States. While there were no illusions that the task would be easy, nobody expected that this violent conflict would continue for more than three years.
Throughout the summer of 1950, the U.S. and the other involved United Nations' states scrambled to contain North Korea's fast-moving army, assemble the forces necessary to defeat it and simultaneously begin to respond to what was seen as a global military challenge from the Communist world.(Naval History & Heritage Command)
On June 24, 1995, the underdog Springboks South African Rugby team beat Powerhouse
New Zealand to win the Rugby World Cup.
Saturday 24th June 1995 will always be a stake in South African history that points to a direct time of unification in a vastly divided nation, a nation that had been filled and fueled by hatred because of a man's skin colour or language preference and what that represented below the surface. (Shelley du Plessis)
Nelson Mandela is a brilliant politician with a genius for disarming his enemies. To Mandela, everyone is human, everyone can be reached. The only question is how. In prison, he would introduce his lawyer to his "guard of honor" --- and his jailers would find themselves shaking hands with an attorney they loathed. And he used his dead time in prison to teach himself Afrikaans, read the Afrikaans newspapers and familiarize himself with Afrikaner history.
Rugby is the favorite sport of Afrikaners, the dominant white tribe in South Africa
--- "apartheid's master race." All but one of the 15 players on the Springbok team were white. In a stadium that held 62,000, 95% of the crowd would be white. No wonder that blacks saw the Boks as a symbol of oppression.
"Don't address their brains," Mandela believed. "Address their hearts." One direct way to do that was through sports. People love their teams; the connection is purely emotional. If the Springboks could come to engage both blacks and whites, that might end the sense among blacks that sports in South Africa was "apartheid in tracksuits" --- and might make whites more accepting of blacks as equals.
Mandela did not just lay out a goal. He met and charmed the white lords of rugby, then lobbied for the Rugby World Cup to be played in South Africa. He invited François Pienaar, the Springboks captain, to visit him and encouraged him to see his sport as "nation building". Soon the team was learning how to sing "Nkosi Sikele", the black national anthem. And, because a storybook fantasy was becoming reality, the Springboks advanced steadily to the World Cup finals. (Jesse Kornbluth)
This Week's Essay:
Is there redemption? Is there a sense of salvation? For all the innocence, the blood; theirs and ours, have they died in vain. Can there be a morsel of recompense that might be realized by the sheer irony of Fate? There are so many pieces of this puzzle, that after all these years, are still attempted to be placed.
Six Buffalo area Doctors, financed by a private Meilman Foundation, recently went to Ho Chi Minh City(Saigon), VietNam on a ten-day tour-of-duty. These six doctors did surgery on 100 children. During their stay, they treated the ones they could and had the sensitivity to bring one back here to the States for treatment. The doctors, plastic surgeons and orthopedic surgeons, were concentrating on the cases that had fallen through the cracks. These were children with cleft palates, fingers fused together, and there was a girl who wore her sandal backwards because her foot was turned the wrong way.
Here we are, in a country, operating as a communist regime; a country where our young men and women fought, bled, and died for, is now a country having some of their young, being helped to know a better life. Disfigured by the imperfect blueprint of humanity, our ‘intentions’ came to this storied soil again. Our medical expertise had gone to this backwoods, rice-paddy, rural, agricultural corner of SouthEast Asia to try to make some wrongs, right.
De ja vu, all over again.
Maybe this, in a small way, could help put a smile…on That Tired, Wet, MARINE.
Some of the doctors used the old Veterans Hospital built by the US Army before the Viet-Nam War. The surgeries were taking place in upper 90 degree heat.
Flashback to those awful days when the heat was taking its toll on the medical teams, and our wounded, and our dying.
In the other hospital, a three-story building with a broken elevator, the other surgeries were taking place. The doctors handled what they could but had to turn so many away. The locals having already been made aware of the presence of these gypsy Messiahs, the word had gotten out so that the rural inhabitants were also flocking in from the backwater areas.
Flashback to 30 April, 1975, and the warehouse roof across the street from the US Embassy. Two US helicopters came, took the select few that they could from those whom had gathered, and lifted away. In the wake of the departure of these helicopters, many distressed souls were left behind. And being left behind, these forsaken now had to contend with the wrath of the newly installed regime. Therein lays the limitations; the frailty of humanity. Even in its benevolent best, its ability to be righteous is so finite.
Flash forward; as the one doctor put it…’you should see the terribly disappointed faces of the Mothers.
On the Faces of Mothers are revealed the fates of Humanity. Included are its triumphs, weaknesses, and its malevolence. These encounters become the evidence that is brush-stroked on their faces. One can always know a good-day for humanity, or a bad-day, by looking at the face of a Mother. Blessed Mother's face must have defied description.
And then, what came in from the countryside, was this 4-year-old girl with a mole on her face the size of a palm. The mother was initially distraught because the girl’s condition was such that the hospital did not have the capacity to effect such a surgery. So the doctors asked”...would you like to come to America?”
On September 27, Doctor Meilman , will operate on this little girl. The good doctor can still remember the look on the Mother’s face. “You couldn’t see a happier lady in all of Viet Nam."
There is a Red Flower, with thorns, that grows wild in Viet Nam. This is the imagery that Tim Buckley uses in his 1968 ballad 'Once I Was A Soldier', in trying bring out some kind of a redemptive quality that just might provide a sense of salvation for those immersed in this hell. With the corrective surgery and the possibility of a better life, it is hoped that a redressing like the one the doctor made, holds out a redemptive quality to the nightmare that continues to come to mind, when VietNam is mentioned. And maybe this doctor's intention will provide the renewal that the theme to the lyrics of this Tim Buckley ballad promises: "...that Flower will LIVE…in the Memory of a Tired, Wet, MARINE."
--{-=@
Hickok
The Promise
...have you ever looked fear in the face And said I just don't care?
Glitter in the Air~~~Pink Paulo Antunes
Historical footnotes for this week:
June 25, 1950~~~is the historical start of the Korean War.
On 25 June 1950, the young Cold War suddenly turned hot, bloody and expensive. Within a few days, North Korea's invasion of South Korea brought about a United Nations' "police action" against the aggressors. That immediately produced heavy military and naval involvement by the United States. While there were no illusions that the task would be easy, nobody expected that this violent conflict would continue for more than three years.
Throughout the summer of 1950, the U.S. and the other involved United Nations' states scrambled to contain North Korea's fast-moving army, assemble the forces necessary to defeat it and simultaneously begin to respond to what was seen as a global military challenge from the Communist world.(Naval History & Heritage Command)
On June 24, 1995, the underdog Springboks South African Rugby team beat Powerhouse
New Zealand to win the Rugby World Cup.
Saturday 24th June 1995 will always be a stake in South African history that points to a direct time of unification in a vastly divided nation, a nation that had been filled and fueled by hatred because of a man's skin colour or language preference and what that represented below the surface. (Shelley du Plessis)
Nelson Mandela is a brilliant politician with a genius for disarming his enemies. To Mandela, everyone is human, everyone can be reached. The only question is how. In prison, he would introduce his lawyer to his "guard of honor" --- and his jailers would find themselves shaking hands with an attorney they loathed. And he used his dead time in prison to teach himself Afrikaans, read the Afrikaans newspapers and familiarize himself with Afrikaner history.
Rugby is the favorite sport of Afrikaners, the dominant white tribe in South Africa
--- "apartheid's master race." All but one of the 15 players on the Springbok team were white. In a stadium that held 62,000, 95% of the crowd would be white. No wonder that blacks saw the Boks as a symbol of oppression.
"Don't address their brains," Mandela believed. "Address their hearts." One direct way to do that was through sports. People love their teams; the connection is purely emotional. If the Springboks could come to engage both blacks and whites, that might end the sense among blacks that sports in South Africa was "apartheid in tracksuits" --- and might make whites more accepting of blacks as equals.
Mandela did not just lay out a goal. He met and charmed the white lords of rugby, then lobbied for the Rugby World Cup to be played in South Africa. He invited François Pienaar, the Springboks captain, to visit him and encouraged him to see his sport as "nation building". Soon the team was learning how to sing "Nkosi Sikele", the black national anthem. And, because a storybook fantasy was becoming reality, the Springboks advanced steadily to the World Cup finals. (Jesse Kornbluth)
This Week's Essay:
Is there redemption? Is there a sense of salvation? For all the innocence, the blood; theirs and ours, have they died in vain. Can there be a morsel of recompense that might be realized by the sheer irony of Fate? There are so many pieces of this puzzle, that after all these years, are still attempted to be placed.
Six Buffalo area Doctors, financed by a private Meilman Foundation, recently went to Ho Chi Minh City(Saigon), VietNam on a ten-day tour-of-duty. These six doctors did surgery on 100 children. During their stay, they treated the ones they could and had the sensitivity to bring one back here to the States for treatment. The doctors, plastic surgeons and orthopedic surgeons, were concentrating on the cases that had fallen through the cracks. These were children with cleft palates, fingers fused together, and there was a girl who wore her sandal backwards because her foot was turned the wrong way.
Here we are, in a country, operating as a communist regime; a country where our young men and women fought, bled, and died for, is now a country having some of their young, being helped to know a better life. Disfigured by the imperfect blueprint of humanity, our ‘intentions’ came to this storied soil again. Our medical expertise had gone to this backwoods, rice-paddy, rural, agricultural corner of SouthEast Asia to try to make some wrongs, right.
De ja vu, all over again.
Maybe this, in a small way, could help put a smile…on That Tired, Wet, MARINE.
Some of the doctors used the old Veterans Hospital built by the US Army before the Viet-Nam War. The surgeries were taking place in upper 90 degree heat.
Flashback to those awful days when the heat was taking its toll on the medical teams, and our wounded, and our dying.
In the other hospital, a three-story building with a broken elevator, the other surgeries were taking place. The doctors handled what they could but had to turn so many away. The locals having already been made aware of the presence of these gypsy Messiahs, the word had gotten out so that the rural inhabitants were also flocking in from the backwater areas.
Flashback to 30 April, 1975, and the warehouse roof across the street from the US Embassy. Two US helicopters came, took the select few that they could from those whom had gathered, and lifted away. In the wake of the departure of these helicopters, many distressed souls were left behind. And being left behind, these forsaken now had to contend with the wrath of the newly installed regime. Therein lays the limitations; the frailty of humanity. Even in its benevolent best, its ability to be righteous is so finite.
Flash forward; as the one doctor put it…’you should see the terribly disappointed faces of the Mothers.
On the Faces of Mothers are revealed the fates of Humanity. Included are its triumphs, weaknesses, and its malevolence. These encounters become the evidence that is brush-stroked on their faces. One can always know a good-day for humanity, or a bad-day, by looking at the face of a Mother. Blessed Mother's face must have defied description.
And then, what came in from the countryside, was this 4-year-old girl with a mole on her face the size of a palm. The mother was initially distraught because the girl’s condition was such that the hospital did not have the capacity to effect such a surgery. So the doctors asked”...would you like to come to America?”
On September 27, Doctor Meilman , will operate on this little girl. The good doctor can still remember the look on the Mother’s face. “You couldn’t see a happier lady in all of Viet Nam."
There is a Red Flower, with thorns, that grows wild in Viet Nam. This is the imagery that Tim Buckley uses in his 1968 ballad 'Once I Was A Soldier', in trying bring out some kind of a redemptive quality that just might provide a sense of salvation for those immersed in this hell. With the corrective surgery and the possibility of a better life, it is hoped that a redressing like the one the doctor made, holds out a redemptive quality to the nightmare that continues to come to mind, when VietNam is mentioned. And maybe this doctor's intention will provide the renewal that the theme to the lyrics of this Tim Buckley ballad promises: "...that Flower will LIVE…in the Memory of a Tired, Wet, MARINE."
--{-=@
Hickok
The Promise
Thursday, June 17, 2010
"You're going to live to regret this"
Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or at least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, have a reflection on whether I'm going to be the hero in my own life.
...at night I dream that she is there
and I can feel her in the air
tell me, tell me, the words to define
the way I feel about someone so fine
how do you talk to an angel---1992---The Heights
On this day, Thursday, 17 June 1992, at 5:30AM, upon walking in and being introduced by way of the dead-panned remark of Sean G. "...you're going to live to regret this," I started at AIRBORNE(ABX) Express!!!
For the first time in my adult-career-life, at 41 years old, I sensed that I had finally hit pay-dirt.
"...Live to regret this?!?!?"
Words more prophetic than this have never before, or since, been spoken. When one is in-the-moment one is not going to be able to see it. But all these years later those words ring like the Bells in The Notre Dame bell towers. Those words are bitter sweet. The sweetness is that, at 41 years old, I knew that I had finally gotten myself into an employment situation where, given enough time for the seniority residuals to materialize, I and my family would come to realize a middle-class life-style that we hadn't enjoyed in more that a decade. The additional sweetness was...that I pulled it off!!!
It was the classic conjunction of the right place, right time, and having the right chemistry with the key hiring person. To this day, I include his name expressing gratitude in my Prayer-of-the-Faithful invocations. One must understand that while I was pounding the pavement looking for work, I was hiding a little secret. I did not know all the sordid details yet, but I knew 'something' was wrong. My body wasn't working on all eight-cylinders anymore. I knew of 'some' things because---they were evident to me. The loss of balance, as an example, was kicking-in a bit more often. Nobody noticed this in the early '90's when I worked Christmas NIGHT-CREW @ TOYS R US and had to navigate product, secured by my two hands, up and down ladders maintaining the OVERHEAD. I did it, but I had a couple of 'incidences' that, thank God, I was able to pick myself up from and brush myself off.
The 'unusual' walking-gait, at least for me, was a bit more evident. Although, sharing this 'matter' confidentially with someone that I attended a 1992 Reunion with, apparently the 'gait' wasn't noticed. But the biggest 'telegraph' that said I was no longer 100 percent, was observing me attempting to lift. I couldn't see myself; nor did I want to. If I had done a lifting task in front of a mirror to observe the reality, I probably would have dropped to my knees right there, and cried. It is difficult to explain. The initial bending down to grasp the item frontally, already is challenging my balance. The item, and its weight, is already bringing me forward so I topple. I had to cheat mother-nature. I would reach down to grip in a staggered stutter-step position; left foot positioned ahead of the right foot. This sustained the balance. And of course one knows that they are always taught to lift from the knees. I could not. Always had to lift from my back. My back did it all, because my legs couldn't spring-load me upright, let alone upright with 35# of freight in hand; degenerative muscle-tone.
So even as I knew something was wrong; trying to stay ahead of mother-nature, I was still---in denial. This can't be happening to me. what had plagued my Dad most of his adult-life, isn't happening to me...or is it!?!?!? At the urging of my sister Rose, and the fact that my TEAMSTERS Health Insurance benefits had become a reality, I embarked on an odyssey; an odyssey like Jason and the Argonauts, I would find out about villains and obstacles. The first thing I learn is that I have a shrunken cerebellum. This explains why I have lost my sense of balance. The specialists now have a label that tries to explain the rest of this disaster; Familial Spastic Paraplegia. But enough of the sordid medical details, it is the bittersweet taste I want to stay with. How, in this environment, where I had to constantly stay ahead of the disability curve and create techniques that would defy mother-nature to keep me productive. Keep in mind that in walking this tight-rope, sometimes I was doing this along moving machinery. And sometimes I was out on the tarmac of the Buffalo International Airport extracting ridiculous types of freight(xerox copy-machines) out of the bellies of DC-9's.
This is no lie!!! The summer of 1992, when I first started at ABX, I was 191#. And it rained virtually every morning that summer so it was always hot and humid, even at 06:38AM. Since I was "low-man", I got the "Belly" job. By the end of September, I was 180#!!!
Three reasons!!! Firstly, as I already mentioned it was always hot and muggy. Secondly, the BUF freight was the FIRST-LEG of a two-legged flight. We had one half-hour(no lie) to extract ALL of BUF's freight; Belly and the 35 containers up on the DECK, so that this DC-9 could FINAL in Rochester. Thirdly, in such a time-constraint setting I had to keep my wits about me at all times. One mistake...don't even want to go there. But, the mental stress of staying attentive to survive was also a part of these reasons that contributed to the weight loss. And yes, that was sweet, too!!!
In the bitterness of all these challenges, there arose this red flower; this recognition. And to this day, I wear it with pride. I see it as my Red Badge of Courage. To survive; to stay productive, to beat the odds, I had to stay INTENSE in the workplace. Anything less, and I would have been the beaten man. I wasn't going to let that happen; not with TEAMSTERS pay & benefits.
This is now around 1994. A tower-of-strength in his own right, Pat F., observing me one day, going-to-town in my assigned work area, dead-pans...Crazy Lou!!!
It was a perfect fit. I use it to this day; it is my email user name.
Some of the bitterness would continue this way. Because I was classified PART-TIME when I first started and only guaranteed 20 hours, the early 90's were a blend of ABX and Toys R Us. By the mid 90's, through the auspices of a good referral from Pat F., we were also augmenting ABX again. This time it was with Barnett Brass. And I was grateful because I needed the P/T augmentation but I wasn't getting it on my own because by now, some 'things' were becoming a bit more evident. TOPS denied me a shot at a night-crew job. And I knew why; just couldn't prove it. Being at Barnett Brass with Pat F. gave me a chance to return a favor. Mikey J. was just below me now in seniority and P/T too. I got Mikey the P/T job at Barnett. It was like ABX 2!!!!! To this day Mikey and I are tight. If I was in a foxhole it would be Mikey that I would trust my back to. And speaking of Mikey~~~and intensity, the buzz expression at ABX/DHL...right up to the end; coined by Mikey J. was...Lou works hard, so we don't have to!!!
By 1999, I was finally guaranteed a 40-hour work week. With the pay, benefits, and O/T, I resign Barnett. Things are looking good. I even have a son attending the St. Joseph Collegiate Institute. By this time, the Station Manager, Michael G., who hired me, has recognized my struggles. He tries, where seniority will allow, to fit me into less labor-intense areas. This includes the summer vacation-replacement situation where I worked the Billy D. area. This area of responsibility includes covering the front counter. And this is at the FRONT-COUNTER, that I had an experience with a middle-aged female customer where the...'but that other guy' story comes from(see WEB LOG #2)!!!!
Ushering in the 'new' millennium also ushered in the dot.com bust. And with it, the culmination of the BITTER. ABX had fallen on hard times. In 2002 we found redemption with the purchase by D H L Express. D H L's intent was to go toe-to-toe with Fed Ex and UPS. By 2002, I'm needing two canes and an in-house scooter for the longer distances, to get around the station. I'm using steel-toed boots and knee pads because I could crawl faster to get from work-station to work-station. And because my balance was so gone by now, it made more sense for me to work from my knees in a four-point-stance to strip and load our shipping containers. The management element that had been sensitive to my situation; Michael G., Shaun S., and Tom R. are gone. Their replacements have only one thing in mind; productivity. By 2003, for survival, I bid on what we call in the CRAFT; a split-shift; 4-hour AM SORT, 4-hour PM SORT. It sucks, but I can no Longer deal with a labor-intense straight-eight-hour work shift. My Tootsie loved me being home in the middle of the day!!! We'd have our nap, together.
I'm not going to elaborate because I just don't want to recount the details, again. Once was enough. My experience, during 2006 had turned nightmarish. And even after approaching the union stewards and management, it was still never resolved. We had these 3 part-time casuals that just wanted to "f" me, any chance they could. The lead of these three had to be the classic grade-school and high-school bully. Their objective was simply to wear me down to where I'd leave and facilitate them moving up in seniority.
The bitterness is that in the end~~~nobody moved up, because in 2009, D H L moved out!!!
After 6 years and $8 BILLION dollars of debt, D H L didn't want to go toe-to-toe, anymore, with FED EX and UPS.
On 17 November 2008, in my SEVENTEENTH year of service, I was laid-off. I packed my steel-toe-boots, my knee-pads, my scooter; I cried and I left for home. At 57 years years old, with a scooter in tow, what is the likelihood of finding a job akin to the TEAMSTERS pay and benefits???
It took me many years to appreciate that joke; the one about...a prayer's chance---and hell!?!? But I'm beginning---to get it.
"...going to live to regret this!?!?"
Yes Sean, I have. I am living to regret that the LIFE-STYLE that I have come to know and love, may be a thing of my past. That would be the BITTER pill to have to swallow.
--{-=@
Hickok
The Promise
...at night I dream that she is there
and I can feel her in the air
tell me, tell me, the words to define
the way I feel about someone so fine
how do you talk to an angel---1992---The Heights
On this day, Thursday, 17 June 1992, at 5:30AM, upon walking in and being introduced by way of the dead-panned remark of Sean G. "...you're going to live to regret this," I started at AIRBORNE(ABX) Express!!!
For the first time in my adult-career-life, at 41 years old, I sensed that I had finally hit pay-dirt.
"...Live to regret this?!?!?"
Words more prophetic than this have never before, or since, been spoken. When one is in-the-moment one is not going to be able to see it. But all these years later those words ring like the Bells in The Notre Dame bell towers. Those words are bitter sweet. The sweetness is that, at 41 years old, I knew that I had finally gotten myself into an employment situation where, given enough time for the seniority residuals to materialize, I and my family would come to realize a middle-class life-style that we hadn't enjoyed in more that a decade. The additional sweetness was...that I pulled it off!!!
It was the classic conjunction of the right place, right time, and having the right chemistry with the key hiring person. To this day, I include his name expressing gratitude in my Prayer-of-the-Faithful invocations. One must understand that while I was pounding the pavement looking for work, I was hiding a little secret. I did not know all the sordid details yet, but I knew 'something' was wrong. My body wasn't working on all eight-cylinders anymore. I knew of 'some' things because---they were evident to me. The loss of balance, as an example, was kicking-in a bit more often. Nobody noticed this in the early '90's when I worked Christmas NIGHT-CREW @ TOYS R US and had to navigate product, secured by my two hands, up and down ladders maintaining the OVERHEAD. I did it, but I had a couple of 'incidences' that, thank God, I was able to pick myself up from and brush myself off.
The 'unusual' walking-gait, at least for me, was a bit more evident. Although, sharing this 'matter' confidentially with someone that I attended a 1992 Reunion with, apparently the 'gait' wasn't noticed. But the biggest 'telegraph' that said I was no longer 100 percent, was observing me attempting to lift. I couldn't see myself; nor did I want to. If I had done a lifting task in front of a mirror to observe the reality, I probably would have dropped to my knees right there, and cried. It is difficult to explain. The initial bending down to grasp the item frontally, already is challenging my balance. The item, and its weight, is already bringing me forward so I topple. I had to cheat mother-nature. I would reach down to grip in a staggered stutter-step position; left foot positioned ahead of the right foot. This sustained the balance. And of course one knows that they are always taught to lift from the knees. I could not. Always had to lift from my back. My back did it all, because my legs couldn't spring-load me upright, let alone upright with 35# of freight in hand; degenerative muscle-tone.
So even as I knew something was wrong; trying to stay ahead of mother-nature, I was still---in denial. This can't be happening to me. what had plagued my Dad most of his adult-life, isn't happening to me...or is it!?!?!? At the urging of my sister Rose, and the fact that my TEAMSTERS Health Insurance benefits had become a reality, I embarked on an odyssey; an odyssey like Jason and the Argonauts, I would find out about villains and obstacles. The first thing I learn is that I have a shrunken cerebellum. This explains why I have lost my sense of balance. The specialists now have a label that tries to explain the rest of this disaster; Familial Spastic Paraplegia. But enough of the sordid medical details, it is the bittersweet taste I want to stay with. How, in this environment, where I had to constantly stay ahead of the disability curve and create techniques that would defy mother-nature to keep me productive. Keep in mind that in walking this tight-rope, sometimes I was doing this along moving machinery. And sometimes I was out on the tarmac of the Buffalo International Airport extracting ridiculous types of freight(xerox copy-machines) out of the bellies of DC-9's.
This is no lie!!! The summer of 1992, when I first started at ABX, I was 191#. And it rained virtually every morning that summer so it was always hot and humid, even at 06:38AM. Since I was "low-man", I got the "Belly" job. By the end of September, I was 180#!!!
Three reasons!!! Firstly, as I already mentioned it was always hot and muggy. Secondly, the BUF freight was the FIRST-LEG of a two-legged flight. We had one half-hour(no lie) to extract ALL of BUF's freight; Belly and the 35 containers up on the DECK, so that this DC-9 could FINAL in Rochester. Thirdly, in such a time-constraint setting I had to keep my wits about me at all times. One mistake...don't even want to go there. But, the mental stress of staying attentive to survive was also a part of these reasons that contributed to the weight loss. And yes, that was sweet, too!!!
In the bitterness of all these challenges, there arose this red flower; this recognition. And to this day, I wear it with pride. I see it as my Red Badge of Courage. To survive; to stay productive, to beat the odds, I had to stay INTENSE in the workplace. Anything less, and I would have been the beaten man. I wasn't going to let that happen; not with TEAMSTERS pay & benefits.
This is now around 1994. A tower-of-strength in his own right, Pat F., observing me one day, going-to-town in my assigned work area, dead-pans...Crazy Lou!!!
It was a perfect fit. I use it to this day; it is my email user name.
Some of the bitterness would continue this way. Because I was classified PART-TIME when I first started and only guaranteed 20 hours, the early 90's were a blend of ABX and Toys R Us. By the mid 90's, through the auspices of a good referral from Pat F., we were also augmenting ABX again. This time it was with Barnett Brass. And I was grateful because I needed the P/T augmentation but I wasn't getting it on my own because by now, some 'things' were becoming a bit more evident. TOPS denied me a shot at a night-crew job. And I knew why; just couldn't prove it. Being at Barnett Brass with Pat F. gave me a chance to return a favor. Mikey J. was just below me now in seniority and P/T too. I got Mikey the P/T job at Barnett. It was like ABX 2!!!!! To this day Mikey and I are tight. If I was in a foxhole it would be Mikey that I would trust my back to. And speaking of Mikey~~~and intensity, the buzz expression at ABX/DHL...right up to the end; coined by Mikey J. was...Lou works hard, so we don't have to!!!
By 1999, I was finally guaranteed a 40-hour work week. With the pay, benefits, and O/T, I resign Barnett. Things are looking good. I even have a son attending the St. Joseph Collegiate Institute. By this time, the Station Manager, Michael G., who hired me, has recognized my struggles. He tries, where seniority will allow, to fit me into less labor-intense areas. This includes the summer vacation-replacement situation where I worked the Billy D. area. This area of responsibility includes covering the front counter. And this is at the FRONT-COUNTER, that I had an experience with a middle-aged female customer where the...'but that other guy' story comes from(see WEB LOG #2)!!!!
Ushering in the 'new' millennium also ushered in the dot.com bust. And with it, the culmination of the BITTER. ABX had fallen on hard times. In 2002 we found redemption with the purchase by D H L Express. D H L's intent was to go toe-to-toe with Fed Ex and UPS. By 2002, I'm needing two canes and an in-house scooter for the longer distances, to get around the station. I'm using steel-toed boots and knee pads because I could crawl faster to get from work-station to work-station. And because my balance was so gone by now, it made more sense for me to work from my knees in a four-point-stance to strip and load our shipping containers. The management element that had been sensitive to my situation; Michael G., Shaun S., and Tom R. are gone. Their replacements have only one thing in mind; productivity. By 2003, for survival, I bid on what we call in the CRAFT; a split-shift; 4-hour AM SORT, 4-hour PM SORT. It sucks, but I can no Longer deal with a labor-intense straight-eight-hour work shift. My Tootsie loved me being home in the middle of the day!!! We'd have our nap, together.
I'm not going to elaborate because I just don't want to recount the details, again. Once was enough. My experience, during 2006 had turned nightmarish. And even after approaching the union stewards and management, it was still never resolved. We had these 3 part-time casuals that just wanted to "f" me, any chance they could. The lead of these three had to be the classic grade-school and high-school bully. Their objective was simply to wear me down to where I'd leave and facilitate them moving up in seniority.
The bitterness is that in the end~~~nobody moved up, because in 2009, D H L moved out!!!
After 6 years and $8 BILLION dollars of debt, D H L didn't want to go toe-to-toe, anymore, with FED EX and UPS.
On 17 November 2008, in my SEVENTEENTH year of service, I was laid-off. I packed my steel-toe-boots, my knee-pads, my scooter; I cried and I left for home. At 57 years years old, with a scooter in tow, what is the likelihood of finding a job akin to the TEAMSTERS pay and benefits???
It took me many years to appreciate that joke; the one about...a prayer's chance---and hell!?!? But I'm beginning---to get it.
"...going to live to regret this!?!?"
Yes Sean, I have. I am living to regret that the LIFE-STYLE that I have come to know and love, may be a thing of my past. That would be the BITTER pill to have to swallow.
--{-=@
Hickok
The Promise
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
June 14th, 2005, Flag Day...and a flower gone
Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or at least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, have a reflection on whether I'm going to be the hero in my own life.
words and music by Pete Seeger
performed by Pete Seeger and Tao Rodriguez-Seeger
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone?
Girls have picked them every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young girls gone?
Taken husbands every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the young men gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young men gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young men gone?
Gone for soldiers every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Covered with flowers every one
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?
©1961 (Renewed) Fall River Music Inc
The gut-wrenching reality of war. There invariably comes a point where someone; some person~~~a part of humanity, will pay the Ultimate Sacrifice. Sadly, by and large, these Ultimate Sacrifices---for most Americans---never get beyond the statistics. For a few Americans, they may go as far as to show a more personal interest and take the 'statistic' to the next level. For them, it may be a weekly review of The Washington Post's, Faces of the Fallen SITE where now the face; the humanity~~~the young man or the young woman~~~is learned. Always young and always beautiful~~~and always seeing in their eyes, the promise of their futures.
For the Marconi Family, Flag Day, June 14th, has taken on much more meaning and significance than being just 'another' holiday. Our USMC Veteran son Philip, graduated from Parris Island Boot Camp on 26 March 2004. And, of course over the 3-months experience, while fulfilling the rigors of boot, Philip developed some friendships. One of these would be with Pfc Joshua Klinger. After a bop-and-a-weave through 2004, where Joshua went to Camp Lejeune, NC and Philip found himself in Pensacola, FL, the two learned that they were going to be part of an Iraqi combat zone deployment to Fallujah, in February 2005. For those whom may not remember, there was much responsibility resting on the shoulders of this 1st Battalion/6th Marine Regiment. A chapter of very prideful USMC history had just been written through October and November of 2004 when The Marines, through full-scale embattlements, took Fallujah back, from the jihadist insurgents. It was now 1/6 Marines responsibility to make sure that Fallujah~~~stayed that way!!! Guerilla warfare, whether jungle or urban, is a warrior's nightmare. When including in the mix, the ability to gerry-rig today's cell phone electronic technology to create an improvised explosive device, guerilla warfare as a killing machine, becomes an even greater menace.
On Flag Day, June 14th, 2005 Pfc Joshua Klinger, paid the Ultimate Sacrifice. By way of an IED, this Marine, this friend of Philip's, had the beauty of his young and promising life removed from us in the flash of an explosion.
As all the grade schools, and middle-schools, and high-schools in this great country have their respective assemblies honoring and recognizing Old Glory, know this. It is, and will continue to be, Old Glory, because of the personal and ultimate sacrifices that are made everyday.
In observing Flag Day June 14th 2010, it is my intent to assure that sacrifices like that of Joshua Klinger's~~~is not in vain. When seeing our Star-Spangled-Banner, forever may it wave, know that it is because of young men & women like Joshua Klinger, that it forever does. Joshua, know this; Never Forgotten.
Pfc. Joshua P. Klinger
Hometown:Easton, Pennsylvania, U.S.
Age:21 years old
Died:June 14, 2005 in Operation Iraqi Freedom.
Unit:Marines, 1st Battalion, 6th Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, 2nd Marine Expeditionary Force, Camp Lejeune, N.C.
Incident: Killed by a makeshift bomb while fighting enemy forces near Fallujah.
--{-=@
Hickok
words and music by Pete Seeger
performed by Pete Seeger and Tao Rodriguez-Seeger
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone?
Girls have picked them every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young girls gone?
Taken husbands every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the young men gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young men gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young men gone?
Gone for soldiers every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Covered with flowers every one
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?
©1961 (Renewed) Fall River Music Inc
The gut-wrenching reality of war. There invariably comes a point where someone; some person~~~a part of humanity, will pay the Ultimate Sacrifice. Sadly, by and large, these Ultimate Sacrifices---for most Americans---never get beyond the statistics. For a few Americans, they may go as far as to show a more personal interest and take the 'statistic' to the next level. For them, it may be a weekly review of The Washington Post's, Faces of the Fallen SITE where now the face; the humanity~~~the young man or the young woman~~~is learned. Always young and always beautiful~~~and always seeing in their eyes, the promise of their futures.
For the Marconi Family, Flag Day, June 14th, has taken on much more meaning and significance than being just 'another' holiday. Our USMC Veteran son Philip, graduated from Parris Island Boot Camp on 26 March 2004. And, of course over the 3-months experience, while fulfilling the rigors of boot, Philip developed some friendships. One of these would be with Pfc Joshua Klinger. After a bop-and-a-weave through 2004, where Joshua went to Camp Lejeune, NC and Philip found himself in Pensacola, FL, the two learned that they were going to be part of an Iraqi combat zone deployment to Fallujah, in February 2005. For those whom may not remember, there was much responsibility resting on the shoulders of this 1st Battalion/6th Marine Regiment. A chapter of very prideful USMC history had just been written through October and November of 2004 when The Marines, through full-scale embattlements, took Fallujah back, from the jihadist insurgents. It was now 1/6 Marines responsibility to make sure that Fallujah~~~stayed that way!!! Guerilla warfare, whether jungle or urban, is a warrior's nightmare. When including in the mix, the ability to gerry-rig today's cell phone electronic technology to create an improvised explosive device, guerilla warfare as a killing machine, becomes an even greater menace.
On Flag Day, June 14th, 2005 Pfc Joshua Klinger, paid the Ultimate Sacrifice. By way of an IED, this Marine, this friend of Philip's, had the beauty of his young and promising life removed from us in the flash of an explosion.
As all the grade schools, and middle-schools, and high-schools in this great country have their respective assemblies honoring and recognizing Old Glory, know this. It is, and will continue to be, Old Glory, because of the personal and ultimate sacrifices that are made everyday.
In observing Flag Day June 14th 2010, it is my intent to assure that sacrifices like that of Joshua Klinger's~~~is not in vain. When seeing our Star-Spangled-Banner, forever may it wave, know that it is because of young men & women like Joshua Klinger, that it forever does. Joshua, know this; Never Forgotten.
Pfc. Joshua P. Klinger
Hometown:Easton, Pennsylvania, U.S.
Age:21 years old
Died:June 14, 2005 in Operation Iraqi Freedom.
Unit:Marines, 1st Battalion, 6th Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, 2nd Marine Expeditionary Force, Camp Lejeune, N.C.
Incident: Killed by a makeshift bomb while fighting enemy forces near Fallujah.
--{-=@
Hickok
Saturday, June 5, 2010
D-Day June 6, 1944
Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or at least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, have a reflection on whether I'm going to be the hero in my own life.
SELLING A KIDNEY
Forty years after Woodstock,
forty years after combat in Vietnam,
I'm giving serious thought to it~~~
selling a kidney to a sick millionaire
to fund the rest of my life.
Hell, I have two. Why not?
Interesting: Would I sell an arm?
A leg? A testicle? Probably,
if the price was right.
That was the problem with Vietnam.
I sold myself too cheaply.
~~~Tim Bagwell
Does anyone think that freedom is not worth fighting for and even dying for?
There is a cruel calculus of war. It is the number of casualties required to win. Beyond that, it is the consequences of losing.
Sixty-six years ago, on June 6, 1944, the greatest armada of ships and men laid siege to the beaches of Normandy, France, in an invasion that would put an end to the Nazi conquest of Europe.
As the battles raged on, pushing into Germany, some American troops under the Supreme Allied Command of Dwight Eisenhower came upon the Nazi concentration camps. Eisenhower ordered all possible photos to be taken and that Germans from the surrounding villages be required to see the camps and even be made to bury the dead.
In words to this effect, Eisenhower said, “Get it all on record now, get the films, get the witnesses, because somewhere down the road of history, some bastard will get up and say that this never happened.”
War...huh...yeah
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing
Uh ha haa ha
War...huh...yeah
What is it good for?
Absolutley nothing...say it again y'all
War..huh...look out...
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing...listen to me ohhhhh
WAR! I despise,
'cos it means destruction of innocent lives,
War means tears to thousands of mother's eyes,
When their sons gone to fight and lose their lives.
War!?!?!? What is it good for!?!? In the Height, and the Heat, of the Vietnam Conflict, Soul Music singing sensation Edwin Starr releases a song that becomes
iconoclastic for a generation of young adults that will face the reality of
fighting in an armed-conflict for a remote jungle laden area of Southeast Asia where
fronts, friends, and foes are just as confusing as the issues that have this
area mired in the conflict that it finds burdened with.
If one would take into account essays and literature like Tom Brokaw's~~~The Greatest Generation, one would come to understand that sometimes,
there is a righteousness to WAR. Simply put, the Objective of Operation Overlord in the early morning hours of 6 June 1944, was to establish a firm foothold on mainland Europe to sustain an offensive that would ultimately overthrow the oppressive, Third Reich Nazi Germany, and dispose of its maniacal leader, Adolph Hitler. To do that, the United States, Great Britain, Canada, and other allied nations put together this Invasion Force with the objective of getting to Berlin and Hitler, and force the unconditional surrender of Nazi Germany. With the German regime so oppressively dictatorial, and its overt intention to be threateningly expansionist, The Free World felt it had to act as one, not just to appease and halt, but to eliminate the threat, altogether. To put together and effect a Landing Force of this magnitude, The Allies were going to have to be just as maniacal. Accounts will verify that both Churchill and Eisenhower knew that there were going to be losses. The challenge was to formulate a plan that would keep the losses to a minimum, but put together as large a force as possible with fluid logistics to maintain a foothold and sustain a drive. What we did not want was another Dunkirk; the story of the Battle of Dunkirk is one of heroic courage amidst untold tragedy. In the year 1940, at a time when World War II was in full rage, Hitler's army was winning against France, despite help from more than 300,000 troops sent by Britain to help them out. The German army had surrounded and trapped most of the allied forces in the northernmost corner of France. Despite severe causalities the British troops could not retreat as their escape routes were all blocked.
The person in charge of troop evacuation, Vice Admiral Bertram Ramsay, who was stationed in the reinforced tunnels, which lay beneath Dover Castle organized a rescue operation called Operation Dynamo. However, the operation was riddled with logistics problems. The troops had to be rescued within a week as the beaches they were crammed on were being mercilessly shelled. An exodus by sea was impossible because of the difficulty in navigating the seas that were full of sunken ships and also because of the constant threat by U-boats. Nearer the beach the water was too shallow for the transport ships and destroyers to get close to the shore. What's more the British troops did not have enough vessels to transport the huge numbers of soldiers that were trapped on the beach.
Despite all the setbacks, meticulous preparations were made and Operation Dynamo was mobilized. Unfortunately they managed to rescue less than 8,000 troops, at which rate rescuing all the troops who were trapped would take about 40 days.
In desperation Ramsay made a public call for help and asked anyone who owned any kind of boat to assist in rescuing the troops. He got an overwhelming and instantaneous reaction and managed to organize a temporary flotilla comprising 850 "Little Ships" which was made up of lifeboats, yachts and fishing boats. Civilians joined British sailors in manning the boats across the 35 km crossing and a massive rescue mission was launched, evacuating almost 2,000 troops per hours. Nine days later 338,226 trapped people had been rescued.
Churchill referred to this story of heroism and courage as the 'miracle of deliverance'.
On May 8, 1944, Eisenhower initially targets June 5, 1944 as the D-Day. But torrential downpours on June 4, 1944, forces Eisenhower to bump D-Day over to June 6, 1944.
At about 5AM of 6 June 1944, with a concern for the weather, which was not optimal, Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied Commander, decided to effected the Normandy Invasion.
The invasion itself gave prominence to land forces but provided major roles for air and sea components. Allied air forces carried three airborne divisions into battle, protected the force as it crossed the English Channel, and attacked targets throughout the invasion area before and after the landing in support of the assault forces. More than 5,000 ships--from battleships to landing craft--carried, escorted and landed the assault force along the Normandy coast. Once the force was landed, naval gunfire provided critical support for the soldiers as they fought their way across the beaches.
In the invasion's early hours, more than 1,000 transports dropped paratroopers to secure the flanks and beach exits of the assault area. Amphibious craft landed some 130,000 troops on five beaches along 50 miles of Normandy coast between the Cotentin Peninsula and the Orne River while the air forces controlled the skies overhead. In the eastern zone, the British and Canadians landed on GOLD, JUNO and SWORD Beaches. The Americans landed on two beaches in the west--UTAH and OMAHA. As the Allies came ashore, they took the first steps on the final road to victory in Europe.
Omaha Beach
The landing by regiments of the 1st and 29th Infantry divisions and Army Rangers on OMAHA Beach was even more difficult than expected. When the first wave landed at 6:30 a.m., the men found that naval gunfire and pre-landing air bombardments had not softened German defenses or resistance. Along the 7,000 yards of Normandy shore German defenses were as close to that of an Atlantic Wall as any of the beaches. Enemy positions that looked down from bluffs as high as 90-120 feet (or more at low tide), and water and beach obstacles strewn across the narrow strip of beach, stopped the assault at the water's edge for much of the morning of D-Day.
By mid-morning, initial reports painted such a bleak portrait of beachhead conditions that Lt. Gen. Omar Bradley, United States First Army commander, considered pulling off the beach and landing troops elsewhere along the coast. However, during these dark hours, bravery and initiative came to the fore. As soldiers struggled, one leader told his men that two types of people would stay on the beach--the dead and those going to die--so they'd better get the hell out of there, and they did.
Slowly, as individuals and then in groups, soldiers began to cross the fire-swept beach. Supported by Allied naval gunfire from destroyers steaming dangerously close to shore, the American infantrymen gained the heights and beach exits and drove the enemy inland. By D-Day's end V Corps had a tenuous toehold on the Normandy coast, and the force consolidated to protect its gains and prepare for the next step on the road to Germany.
Utah Beach
In the predawn darkness of June 6, the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions were air dropped behind UTAH Beach to secure four causeways across a flooded area directly behind the beach and to protect the invasion's western flank. Numerous factors caused the paratroopers to miss their drop zones and become scattered across the Norman countryside. However, throughout the night and into the day the airborne troops gathered and organized themselves and went on to accomplish their missions. Ironically, the paratroopers' wide dispersion benefited the invasion. With paratroopers in so many places, the Germans never developed adequate responses to the airborne and amphibious assaults.
The 4th Infantry Division was assigned to take UTAH Beach. In contrast with OMAHA Beach, the 4th Division's landing went smoothly. The first wave landed 2,000 yards south of the planned beach--one of the Allies' more fortuitous opportunities on D-Day. The original beach was heavily defended in comparison to the light resistance and few fixed defenses encountered on the new beach. After a personal reconnaissance, Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt Jr., who accompanied the first wave, decided to exploit the opportunity and altered the original plan. He ordered that landing craft carrying the successive assault waves land reinforcements, equipment and supplies to capitalize on the first wave's success. Within hours, the beachhead was secured and the 4th Division started inland to contact the airborne divisions scattered across its front.
As in the OMAHA zone, at day's end the UTAH Beach forces had not gained all of their planned objectives. However, a lodgement was secured, and, most important, once again the American soldier's resourcefulness and initiative had rescued the operation from floundering along the Normandy coast.
These soldiers took a stand in history that will forever be remembered. Europe was enslaved and the world planned for its rescue, but at a tremendous toll on life, limb, and property; both civilian as well as military. The horrific accounts of what happened at municipalities like Dresden, Germany will bear witness to that.
Was it worth it?!?!? Is war worth it!?!? When life, liberty, freedom, and the pursuit of happiness is on the line~~~yes it is.
--{-=@
Hickok
SELLING A KIDNEY
Forty years after Woodstock,
forty years after combat in Vietnam,
I'm giving serious thought to it~~~
selling a kidney to a sick millionaire
to fund the rest of my life.
Hell, I have two. Why not?
Interesting: Would I sell an arm?
A leg? A testicle? Probably,
if the price was right.
That was the problem with Vietnam.
I sold myself too cheaply.
~~~Tim Bagwell
Does anyone think that freedom is not worth fighting for and even dying for?
There is a cruel calculus of war. It is the number of casualties required to win. Beyond that, it is the consequences of losing.
Sixty-six years ago, on June 6, 1944, the greatest armada of ships and men laid siege to the beaches of Normandy, France, in an invasion that would put an end to the Nazi conquest of Europe.
As the battles raged on, pushing into Germany, some American troops under the Supreme Allied Command of Dwight Eisenhower came upon the Nazi concentration camps. Eisenhower ordered all possible photos to be taken and that Germans from the surrounding villages be required to see the camps and even be made to bury the dead.
In words to this effect, Eisenhower said, “Get it all on record now, get the films, get the witnesses, because somewhere down the road of history, some bastard will get up and say that this never happened.”
War...huh...yeah
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing
Uh ha haa ha
War...huh...yeah
What is it good for?
Absolutley nothing...say it again y'all
War..huh...look out...
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing...listen to me ohhhhh
WAR! I despise,
'cos it means destruction of innocent lives,
War means tears to thousands of mother's eyes,
When their sons gone to fight and lose their lives.
War!?!?!? What is it good for!?!? In the Height, and the Heat, of the Vietnam Conflict, Soul Music singing sensation Edwin Starr releases a song that becomes
iconoclastic for a generation of young adults that will face the reality of
fighting in an armed-conflict for a remote jungle laden area of Southeast Asia where
fronts, friends, and foes are just as confusing as the issues that have this
area mired in the conflict that it finds burdened with.
If one would take into account essays and literature like Tom Brokaw's~~~The Greatest Generation, one would come to understand that sometimes,
there is a righteousness to WAR. Simply put, the Objective of Operation Overlord in the early morning hours of 6 June 1944, was to establish a firm foothold on mainland Europe to sustain an offensive that would ultimately overthrow the oppressive, Third Reich Nazi Germany, and dispose of its maniacal leader, Adolph Hitler. To do that, the United States, Great Britain, Canada, and other allied nations put together this Invasion Force with the objective of getting to Berlin and Hitler, and force the unconditional surrender of Nazi Germany. With the German regime so oppressively dictatorial, and its overt intention to be threateningly expansionist, The Free World felt it had to act as one, not just to appease and halt, but to eliminate the threat, altogether. To put together and effect a Landing Force of this magnitude, The Allies were going to have to be just as maniacal. Accounts will verify that both Churchill and Eisenhower knew that there were going to be losses. The challenge was to formulate a plan that would keep the losses to a minimum, but put together as large a force as possible with fluid logistics to maintain a foothold and sustain a drive. What we did not want was another Dunkirk; the story of the Battle of Dunkirk is one of heroic courage amidst untold tragedy. In the year 1940, at a time when World War II was in full rage, Hitler's army was winning against France, despite help from more than 300,000 troops sent by Britain to help them out. The German army had surrounded and trapped most of the allied forces in the northernmost corner of France. Despite severe causalities the British troops could not retreat as their escape routes were all blocked.
The person in charge of troop evacuation, Vice Admiral Bertram Ramsay, who was stationed in the reinforced tunnels, which lay beneath Dover Castle organized a rescue operation called Operation Dynamo. However, the operation was riddled with logistics problems. The troops had to be rescued within a week as the beaches they were crammed on were being mercilessly shelled. An exodus by sea was impossible because of the difficulty in navigating the seas that were full of sunken ships and also because of the constant threat by U-boats. Nearer the beach the water was too shallow for the transport ships and destroyers to get close to the shore. What's more the British troops did not have enough vessels to transport the huge numbers of soldiers that were trapped on the beach.
Despite all the setbacks, meticulous preparations were made and Operation Dynamo was mobilized. Unfortunately they managed to rescue less than 8,000 troops, at which rate rescuing all the troops who were trapped would take about 40 days.
In desperation Ramsay made a public call for help and asked anyone who owned any kind of boat to assist in rescuing the troops. He got an overwhelming and instantaneous reaction and managed to organize a temporary flotilla comprising 850 "Little Ships" which was made up of lifeboats, yachts and fishing boats. Civilians joined British sailors in manning the boats across the 35 km crossing and a massive rescue mission was launched, evacuating almost 2,000 troops per hours. Nine days later 338,226 trapped people had been rescued.
Churchill referred to this story of heroism and courage as the 'miracle of deliverance'.
On May 8, 1944, Eisenhower initially targets June 5, 1944 as the D-Day. But torrential downpours on June 4, 1944, forces Eisenhower to bump D-Day over to June 6, 1944.
At about 5AM of 6 June 1944, with a concern for the weather, which was not optimal, Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied Commander, decided to effected the Normandy Invasion.
The invasion itself gave prominence to land forces but provided major roles for air and sea components. Allied air forces carried three airborne divisions into battle, protected the force as it crossed the English Channel, and attacked targets throughout the invasion area before and after the landing in support of the assault forces. More than 5,000 ships--from battleships to landing craft--carried, escorted and landed the assault force along the Normandy coast. Once the force was landed, naval gunfire provided critical support for the soldiers as they fought their way across the beaches.
In the invasion's early hours, more than 1,000 transports dropped paratroopers to secure the flanks and beach exits of the assault area. Amphibious craft landed some 130,000 troops on five beaches along 50 miles of Normandy coast between the Cotentin Peninsula and the Orne River while the air forces controlled the skies overhead. In the eastern zone, the British and Canadians landed on GOLD, JUNO and SWORD Beaches. The Americans landed on two beaches in the west--UTAH and OMAHA. As the Allies came ashore, they took the first steps on the final road to victory in Europe.
Omaha Beach
The landing by regiments of the 1st and 29th Infantry divisions and Army Rangers on OMAHA Beach was even more difficult than expected. When the first wave landed at 6:30 a.m., the men found that naval gunfire and pre-landing air bombardments had not softened German defenses or resistance. Along the 7,000 yards of Normandy shore German defenses were as close to that of an Atlantic Wall as any of the beaches. Enemy positions that looked down from bluffs as high as 90-120 feet (or more at low tide), and water and beach obstacles strewn across the narrow strip of beach, stopped the assault at the water's edge for much of the morning of D-Day.
By mid-morning, initial reports painted such a bleak portrait of beachhead conditions that Lt. Gen. Omar Bradley, United States First Army commander, considered pulling off the beach and landing troops elsewhere along the coast. However, during these dark hours, bravery and initiative came to the fore. As soldiers struggled, one leader told his men that two types of people would stay on the beach--the dead and those going to die--so they'd better get the hell out of there, and they did.
Slowly, as individuals and then in groups, soldiers began to cross the fire-swept beach. Supported by Allied naval gunfire from destroyers steaming dangerously close to shore, the American infantrymen gained the heights and beach exits and drove the enemy inland. By D-Day's end V Corps had a tenuous toehold on the Normandy coast, and the force consolidated to protect its gains and prepare for the next step on the road to Germany.
Utah Beach
In the predawn darkness of June 6, the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions were air dropped behind UTAH Beach to secure four causeways across a flooded area directly behind the beach and to protect the invasion's western flank. Numerous factors caused the paratroopers to miss their drop zones and become scattered across the Norman countryside. However, throughout the night and into the day the airborne troops gathered and organized themselves and went on to accomplish their missions. Ironically, the paratroopers' wide dispersion benefited the invasion. With paratroopers in so many places, the Germans never developed adequate responses to the airborne and amphibious assaults.
The 4th Infantry Division was assigned to take UTAH Beach. In contrast with OMAHA Beach, the 4th Division's landing went smoothly. The first wave landed 2,000 yards south of the planned beach--one of the Allies' more fortuitous opportunities on D-Day. The original beach was heavily defended in comparison to the light resistance and few fixed defenses encountered on the new beach. After a personal reconnaissance, Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt Jr., who accompanied the first wave, decided to exploit the opportunity and altered the original plan. He ordered that landing craft carrying the successive assault waves land reinforcements, equipment and supplies to capitalize on the first wave's success. Within hours, the beachhead was secured and the 4th Division started inland to contact the airborne divisions scattered across its front.
As in the OMAHA zone, at day's end the UTAH Beach forces had not gained all of their planned objectives. However, a lodgement was secured, and, most important, once again the American soldier's resourcefulness and initiative had rescued the operation from floundering along the Normandy coast.
These soldiers took a stand in history that will forever be remembered. Europe was enslaved and the world planned for its rescue, but at a tremendous toll on life, limb, and property; both civilian as well as military. The horrific accounts of what happened at municipalities like Dresden, Germany will bear witness to that.
Was it worth it?!?!? Is war worth it!?!? When life, liberty, freedom, and the pursuit of happiness is on the line~~~yes it is.
--{-=@
Hickok
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
