Yes they can

From the Soldier side:  I was listening to some random news talk thing on the radio today...I didn't catch the name of those talking, but one was a former female soldier who (from what I could gather after having missed some of the show) had served in recent combat. 
She said that she was running for some political office somewhere and some male said that she could not have possibley earned all the medals she had shown the public. 
Now, I didn't see her medals and awards, and she didn't mention what they were...however, I worked with a few female soldiers in Bosnia and Iraq who were going out almost everyday and doing the same shite us male soldiers were doing.  We had female soldiers on the security teams, on the "guns" and driving.  If we had to get out of the Humvees, outside the wire, they were next to us "men." 

Even the troops who never left the camps and FOBs, had the same chances of getting hit by the same random, poorly aimed mortar rounds as the rest of us.  Now the question I have is: "How many folks would be willing to stand up in the gun turret in a Humvee, with a 1/4 of metal in front of you and a little on the sides and be ready to fire up some asshole insurgent trying to attack the convoy.  I did it a few times, and I'll tell you it scared the shit out of me. 

Prep for mission in Baghdad- 50 Cal

Road back to Uglivik, Bosnia in the snow

Yes.  In the modern wars we're fighting now, female troops can earn Bronze Stars, Combat Action Badges and all the other shit that the dudes can earn. 

Coming soon: A cop story- "The great jewlery heist." 

Hire the best you can find....

From the Cop side: When I got out of the Regular Army in the late 1970’s, I figured I could get one of a few types of jobs. Since I had been a highly trained soldier in the Infantry, and as a truck driver, I started looking at:


1.) Being a hit man for the Mafia

2.) Being a truck driver

3.) Being a cop.

I found out the cops had a better medical and retirement plan, so that’s the route I took. …but I had no idea how to get a cop job. So, I asked a few of my buddies from high school who were going to the local Junior College and taking Administration of Justice classes. They said the classes were easy and you could meet girls there. I looked at them after a few minutes of thought and asked: “you mean you’d want to go out with a girl who wants to be a cop? She might kick your ass or something.”

So, using the GI bill I went to college. When I first started, I had no clue what I was getting into. After a few semesters, I started filling out applications for different agencies. In those days, there were lots of departments hiring and even more people trying to get hired.

One department I applied for had 6 openings. The Saturday of the written test there were about 600 people standing outside the room waiting to get in and take the test. I remember this old crusty police sergeant standing in front of everybody and yelling out: “Now listen up. If you are here to take the written police exam, raise your hand.”

All the hands went up. Then he said: “If you have ever been convicted of a felony crime, stand over there.” He pointed to another officer. About 50 people walked over and were told to go away.

Then the sergeant said: “If you have been convicted of the following crimes (he listed a few) or have ever been a drug user, dishonorable discharged from the US military, then step over there.”

About another 100 or so walked over and were told to go away. Then the sergeant said: “If you have any missing fingers, eyes, ears, toes, loss of hearing, vision less than 20/100, have had any of the following illnesses (he read off a few) then step over there.”

A bunch more walked over and were told to go away.

That got it down to about 200 of us to take the written test.
I past all the test, but that department found better people than me to work there...but I didn't give up.

Now days, we have 2 openings and we’re lucky if 10 qualified people apply. Then half of them have mental problems and will never work in police work. We try to pick the best (which makes me wonder how in the hell I ever go hired.)

BOOK EM" DANNO!

From the Cop side: I could tell stories all day long about some really horrible leaders in both law enforcement and the Army.  Too many times in police work, they promote the person who actually has the least knowlege on how to do the job...but is very good at having "nice hair." 

The funny thing is, I like doing police work-- still after 30+ years.  Nothing like solving a case and getting bad guys out of the way. 

So good citizens, when you think the local police are not doing a good job...look at the leadership.  Or as we used to say: "We still do a good job despite the lack of any kind of leadership."

What it takes to be the boss....

From the Cop side: Some of the reasons I’ll never be the Police Chief ....is because I tell it how it is….or at least how it is in real life. Sometimes people don’t want to really know how it really is. They want to know how it could be in a fairy tale world.


When society watches hours and hours of cop shows on TV, they think that everything is solved in an hour. (For those in the US, count how many TV shows have something to do with law enforcement—including the lawyer shows)  I am still amazed when I have a citizen ask: "Isn't CSI coming out to get DNA samples?" 
(this could be off a cell phone stolen from an unlocked car)

One example of Chiefs being kind of slow:  When I started as a cop in 1979, a few of us who actually knew something about guns tried to get our chiefs to let us carry semi automatic handguns on duty. Oh my God. You think we had been talking about pissing on the pope or something. We were treated like madmen and told things like: “I’ve used the revolver for years. It’s a good weapon. You don’ need more than 6 bullets for anything. Them autos just jam." 

Of course, none of these pinheads had ever been in a gun fight or anything like that. They were so against it for years. Then, cops were getting killed fighting bad guys who had better weapons- with more than 6 bullets. So, starting in the 1990’s, many departments started to switch to semi auto handguns. It took a lot of media hype and “consultants” getting paid a lot of money for the chiefs to understand what some of us range master types had been trying to say for years. Now it’s odd to see a revolver in any police holsters in the US.  (but more are showing up again for off duty- please these little .38s are cute, but don't bet your life on one)

Another example: Over the 30 plus years I’ve been a cop, I’ve gone to a lot of schools to improve my skills. The department paid for the training, so when I came back, I’d always go to my boss and tell them what the school taught me that we had to change.

Never going to happen. If an officer or even a sergeant tries to tell the chief “hey, boss, we need to have a policy on bla, bla, bla.” The boss aint’ goin’ do nothing until they hear it from somebody who makes a lot more money than we do.

Many years ago I went to a police driving instructor course. Most of the cops there had been sent because they were shitty drivers and had crashed too many times. I was the only cop there who had NEVER crashed a police car. Wow, that was kind of weird.

So, I came back from the class and wrote the chief a memo explaining some of the things we needed to have in our policy. He said: “well, I don’t think we need to do that.”

I just let it go. Then a year later, that same chief had gone to some “Chief’s convention” where they had some highly paid expert come in and tell the chiefs the same thing I had told ours a year before. Our chief came back from that convention and said: “We need a policy on bla, bla, bla.”

I just looked at him and thought: “NO SHIT.”

The really small county I work in has so many small police departments that sometimes I have to stop and think about how many we have. It would be smart and save lots of money if they reorganized them into a few larger departments. However, the little city councils and the chiefs don’t want to loose the power they have.

So years ago, the Sheriff of the county came up with an idea on how many stars they all should were. He felt only two stars on the collar was enough for each chief to wear, and of course the Sheriff would wear four stars.

Well, this lasted about a week. Then some of the chiefs from little towns like Mayberry, decided that they were just as important as the Sheriff, so they started to were four stars.

Who really cares?

What I figured out is what it takes to be a chief; you have to have a major part of your brain removed. The part that works with common sense.

Like a monkey on crack.....

From the Cop side: Ok, I’ll end the suspense.


Getting back to my “worst rookie” story….

Part II.
Our shift started at 1500 hours (3 pm for normal folks). This was the “swing shift” which is still my favorite shift for actually doing police work. My second favorite shift was when I worked DUIs and started in the evening and worked until 3 am to catch drunk drivers.

In the time of this story, I was also going to college full time—using up the rest of my VA college assistance. In those days I really needed the money, so even though I had no free time, I went to work or school, or studied.

Since I had college classes that day, I hadn’t had time to stop for lunch before going to work. So, I arrived for work, put on my uniform, met the new rookie “C”, talked to him about what I expected and then we got into the car. “C” had already been in training for over a month, so I figured he must have some clue as to what to do. I learned a lot that day…like never assume anything where you life could be on the line. “C” was totally fu--ing clueless in regards to how to be a real live cop.

After we drove around our “beat” for a quick check, I told him to head down to the local diner. I needed food and caffeine or I was not going to make it through the night. At first he looked at me with a confused look, then I repeated: “let’s go to code 7 (dinner break) now.”
He said: “but it’s early, I’m not hungry yet.” To which I responded with a polite: “I am. I didn’t have lunch today.”

So, he pointed the old Dodge in the direction of the diner and off we went. Since I am a driving instructor, I often look over to see how fast a trainee is going. We were in a 35 MPH zone, but I noticed the needle was creeping up to 50 MPH. I gently said: “There’s no rush, follow the speed limit.”

Still, the needle was near 50 MPH. So I repeated: “There’s no rush, keep it at the speed limit. Slow down!” It took a third time to get the message across before “C” slowed the da-- patrol car down. I decided he’d need a class on basic patrol car operations after dinner. This was not going to look good on his DOR (Daily Observation Report).

We somehow made it to the dinner without a crash. We went inside and I looked at the menu and ordered a simple sandwich so we could get back to work right away. Just as soon as I ordered, we herd the dispatcher give another unit a residential alarm call. No big deal, it wasn’t our call. So I took a sip of my caffeine beverage. “C” looked at me and said: “aren’t we going to go?”

I looked at him and said: “It’s not our call. It’s only a residential alarm….it’s just some home owner who came home and set off their stupid a-- alarm…relax.”

Then the patrol unit that was dispatched told the dispatcher that he was coming from a distance and he’d be delayed. So “C” looked at me and said: “Shouldn’t we go?”

I told him: “No, we haven’t been dispatched. Can you relax a little, you’re like a monkey on crack or something.”

Just as my sandwich was served to me, the dispatcher got back on the air and asked if we were clear to respond to the alarm call. “C” looked at me and it appeared that he had stopped breathing. This was a bad sign. I know that the human brain must have oxygen to properly function. Those who deprive their brains of this valuable element, often do really stupid sh--. (Stand by for stupid sh--.)

I told “C” that I’d show him how to answer the dispatcher: “Control, we’re at Z diner on break. We’ll be delayed in that response by a few minutes.” The dispatcher acknowledges our answer, and I could tell that they were less concerned about the alarm call than I was.
(a little back ground. I had responded to this stupid a-- residential alarm about 15 times in the last month. The home owner was too stupid to use it correctly, so we’d put it on our “don’t give a sh--” list.”)



Part III

(so I won’t keep you in any more suspense.)

I inhaled my sandwich and we walked out to the car after paying the bill. I could tell that “C” was really over excited, so I told him: “It’s an alarm we’ve been to 15 times in the last few weeks, don’t get too excited, but handle it like it’s real.”

I sat in the car and put on my seat belt, but “C” started to drive without his on. I suggested that he put it on. He didn’t move for it. By now all the commute drivers were coming home from the “city” and clogging up the streets. The speed limit was 35 MPH, but most could only get up to 10 or 15 MPH for a block or two before stopping. “C” had turned on the emergency lights and started tapping the siren.

I thought this was a little too much, so I suggested he not try to go so fast. I looked over at the speed needle and saw that he was up to 50 MPH again. I could see that traffic was not moving up ahead and we were heading for a crash. I YELLED: “Slow down!”

Now I was actually starting to get worried. This rookie really had stopped breathing, but somehow he was like a monkey on crack. If we didn’t have doors and a roof on the car, I think he would have sprung out of the car! He slammed on the breaks just as he realized that yes, traffic was stopped….then he move from the #1 (left lane) to the #2 (right lane) while he still had the emergency lights on.

Let me point out a critical bit of safety information here before I continue. I the state of California, emergency vehicles that are using their emergency lights MUST stay in the far left lane and allow traffic to move to the right. This is Basic Emergency Driving 101 that is taught in the basic police academy.

I almost got car sick. That is not something a rookie cop should make his/ her FTO do. If I get car sick, I’m going to puke on whoever is doing the sh--y driving. I told him: “drive smooth, not fast. If you have the emergency lights on, you MUST stay in the left lane.”

He started to argue with me and he said: “I can get there faster if I pass around the cars.”

I looked at him, now using my old Army Sergeant Voice (ASV) and said: “Are you fu--ing arguing with me? Now, do what I fu--ing say, or pull the fu--ing car over.”

He slowed down a little, then started to gain speed. I repeated: “Slow the fu-- down now! Slow down or I’m driving the rest of the shift by myself!”

He only slowed a little, and still passed on the left and the right. I finally said: “Slow this fu--ing car down now, or I’m going to kick your stupid fu--ing ass. Are you a retard?”

That got his attention. And yes, we used to talk to rookies like that if they were that stupid.

He got up to an intersection where we needed to turn left…but he continued in the going straight lane, then like a spaz, made a hard left turn. We almost got hit by two cars who’s drivers were totally caught off guard. I yelled: “what thefuckwasthat? You should turn in the turn lane. This isn’t a life or death call.”

I was thinking about pulling my .357 magnum revolver out and using that to get his attention. I was in great fear of my life at that point. (I was considering how I was going to write the use of deadly force report)  But he began to slow down as he was looking for the address of the alarm call.

I got back into my FTO mode and tried to salvage the situation, even as fouled up as it was. I gently said: “OK, it’s a residential alarm. How do you want to approach the house? What equipment do you need? What do you tell the dispatcher when you get there?”

No answer. OK. I guessed he heard what I had said and he was contemplating it over in his feeble mind. Remember, no oxygen had been supplied to his brain for over 10 minutes now…so brain damage was setting in….

He pulled up right smack dab in front of the house. No cover for me. It was just starting to get dark, and as he left the patrol car, he left the keys in the ignition, left the headlight on and left the emergency lights on. I grabbed the keys so some kid wouldn’t steal our patrol car.

“C” ran to the front door and looked very much like a monkey on crack---now with his head cut off. He was actually jumping up and down looking around for an answer to what he was supposed to do. I suggested: “why don’t you check the front door, then work your way around the house.”

He did that, but when he got to a back door that was unlocked (again) he really looked confused. I knew that this would be a great learning experience for him, so I said nothing. He looked at me and said: “I forgot my flashlight, can I have yours?”

I said: “Pretend like I’m not here.” And he walked into the house without a light. I knew the back room had no lights since it was under remodel….so the dumbass stumbled around a while in the dark. I have no idea what he though he was doing, but it was so funny I couldn’t control myself. About then he realized that he really needed a flashlight, and he came back out…but he couldn’t get back into the patrol car because I took the keys and locked the doors (but left all the lights on).

Finally, we took care of the call. The house was “cleared” and we went back to the office with me driving. When I sat “C” down and tried to explain what he had done right (nothing) and what he had done wrong (everything), he actually began to argue with me and try to justify why he did the dumb shit he did.

I looked at him, then pulled out the training manual. I pointed to the section where it said something about the trainee should not argue with the FTO. He still argued. I told him to sit in the office the rest of the shift and read the manual.

I went into work early the next day to talk to the boss about the dumbass rookie. I said: “Sergeant, I have never seen somebody who is so fu--ing stupid in my life.” I explained everything he had done wrong and how he argued with me.

The sergeant said: “Oh, you’re being too hard on him. I think you just need a few more days with him.”

…and this is why it took me so long to get promoted…I said: “There is no fu--ing way I am having that idiot in the car with me ever again. He is not trainable. If you keep him on, we are going to get more citizen’s complaints than ever, he’ll get us sued and he’s going to get himself or somebody else hurt bad. He’s not ever going to be a real cop! I refuse to be his FTO.”


They put “C” in a car with anther FTO. He made it through probation, and he had an average of one citizen’s complaint a month, crashed several car and got our department sued and finally had to be fired when a more competent chief was hired later.

"C" for Crazy....

From the Cop side: The reasons I would never be police chief, or any other high ranking position, and the reason it took me so long to get promoted in Army are pretty much the same. I do have a “mouth” but I learned long ago that it can quickly overload my ass. So, I learned to “bite my tongue.” I have so many cuts on my tongue from biting it, that I no longer have any feeling in it.


Still, when either the police department or the Army needed something done that was really fucked up, they’d ask me to do it. Never for any promotion or anything, they’d just say: “hey, the other sergeant is going to take two weeks to do this, and I figure you can do it in 20 minutes.” …that sort of shit.

And I will tell somebody what I think. I don’t try to be nasty about it, but if you are walking past a pile of dog shit, I’m going to tell you: “Hey, that’s dog shit. Don’t step in it. Don’t smell it. It’s really dog shit.”
But sometimes, the Army or the Police Dept wouldn’t want to hear that…because it might offend somebody or some shit. I’m sorry, if it’s dog shit, we can’t change that fact. It’s going to stick to your boots and stink. Don’t step in it…really.

Now, one of the things I’ve done on and off over the years is to train cops. I really don’t like being a FTO (Field Training Officer) for the brand new cops…the ones’ who have never driven the patrol car before. I’d prefer somebody else to work on them for at least 10 weeks, then send them to me when they’re not so retarded and all. Let me teach them the shit that will help them survive the job. Where to eat good food and how to safely drive and stuff.
Many, many years ago, I was given a rookie on what was supposed to be his last phase of training. I was to evaluate him and polish off anything that needed fixin’. In this case, the FTOs who had been training him must have been too shy to fail his ass out of the program. (I’m really not that tight, I really want them all to make it!)
This cop, I’ll call “C” for crazy. He was like a monkey on crack or something…and he fucking argued with me all the first night!



To be cont.

How's this for a post card?

From the Soldier side:  When I was in Iraq, one of the things that really made our day was when we got a pacakge from somebody.  The ones I really enjoyed had coffee in them. 
A good citizen is trying to send lots of post cards to the troops.  So please check out: (corrected link)

The Operation Postcard link is here   http://wordsforwarriors.blogspot.com/2010/09/operation-postcard-contest.html

and help out if you can. 
 Here's what I came up with for a postcard:

Lock and Load. Ready on the Right? Ready on the Left?  Shooters, watch your lane and fire!

Catching Big Foot

From the Cop side: Over the many years I’ve been fortunate to have been a police officer in California, I have had some strange things happen. What’s so strange now, I find almost nothing shocks me anymore. Every now and then, I’ll be at a party or something and somebody might ask me what I do for a living. I usually say I work for the “street cleaning department” or something like that. That prevents the usually dumbass questions that might follow if I had said: “I’m a cop.”

(Notice the containers of Starbucks coffee nearby)

Some of the dumbass questions cops get are kind of like some of the same dumbass questions a soldier gets who’s been to a war. “How many people have you shot?”

Since my self esteem is improved by my inciting laughter when ever possible, I have a pocket full of good stories to tell about the cop job. One of my favorite stories is the one about me catching “Big Foot.”

Now, we all know that there may not really be a Big Foot monster, but we had a homeless dude that I nick named “Big Foot”.

Big Foot had been homeless for over 20 years. The rumor was that he had a good job and family and all. Then one day his wife took the kids and left him. Big Foot just started to wonder the streets and talk to himself. Somedays he’d do some really odd things, and some passing citizen who was not from the area would call the police to report this dude walking back and forth in the cross walk talking to himself. He was totally harmless.

When I worked into the late afternoon, I’d always see Big Foot standing outside one of the local Italian restaurants. Everyday like clock work at 5 PM, one of the cooks would walk out and hand Big Foot a pizza. It was good pizza to. He’d sit on a bench outside, because he was too smelly to come inside, and he’d eat his pizza. He never harmed a sole in his life.

Then one day, the county had started a Mental Health Task Force. Cops, shrinks and social workers.  This was a bleeding heart liberal crap thing that was supposed to go around and try to help the really nutty folks. It may have helped in a few cases, but from the cases I saw, it was a bunch of mis-guided folks trying to save the world—on a budget. For some reason, they focused in on Big Foot. They all felt that they could bring him in and get him help. But he didn't want any help.

So they went out with the butterfly net one day. He was an easy guy to approach at the time…and they brought him in to the county nut factory. Big Foot didn’t like that at all. He was out the door within 15 minutes and a county Be On the Lookout (BOL) was broadcast on all channels to all stations.

Big Foot knew if the cops saw him, they’d capture him and bring him into to have his marbles sorted out. So he was like the elusive creature of myth and lore…there were only brief sightings of him. He’d come out of the hills and take clothes off lines in citizen’s back yards, he’d come down to the restaurants and take food out of the trash. But he was fast. A blurrrrr…..sometimes people called in and said that they thought they saw some kind of hairy man or ape run by.  This look was made possible by his hair and beard getting longer and the many layers of clothes he put on. 

So when we sat at our police briefings before going on duty,hearing about his stealing clothes and stuff.  I told the boss “it’s Big Foot.” And the name stuck. He was fast. Nobody could catch him. That is no normal cop could catch him. But if you had a cop who’d had experience in the infantry and stuff like that…it could be done.

Big Foot made the mistake of always coming out of the hills about the same time each morning. He started a routine. So all I had to do was hide in the area, wait for the call…then sneak into the woods where I knew he was going to run back to.

I waited behind some trees…when he ran back from his foraging mission I waited for him to sit down and eat. I quietly walked up behind him…oh what a smell--- months in the woods without a bath or clean clothes (much like Iraqi insurgents I smelled years later).

Big Foot was so surprised, that when I put the handcuffs on him and walked him down the hill to my patrol car, he just kept saying: “How? How? How? How?”

Computer Geeks UP! Form on line, dress right dress....

From the Soldier side: “Forget the shooters, what I need is a computer geek!”


For years in both the military and police work I worked with folks who I’ll call “shooters.” These were the ones who when things got rough, they could go to guns, hands, or whatever, and get the job done.

Now days in both police work and the Army, it’s the computer geeks we need.

For my last “AT” with the Army National Guard, I was assigned a team of soldiers. I was given 7 young soldiers and a fairly new 2nd LT. The LT was good, but another team was short of folks so he wasn’t with us long. That was too bad, he was a good LT.

I had 7 young GOOD oldiers. The way they set up the teams, was the entire battalion plus our visitors from a few other states who came to play in this exercise, were in a giant room. They called out the team leaders--- having us stand up…then assigned our teams. We had absolutely no input or suggestions in this process, but I was very happy with my team.   I only knew one of the soldiers on my team.  That was not a problem, for in Iraq, I had a mix of Regular Army, Reserves and National Guard on my team...and worked with Marines and Navy folks a few times.  One goal- get it done. 

The first thing I did after brief introductions was not to ask who could shoot and stuff like that, but I asked: “who’s the computer geeks?”

My last team...one had KP this day. 

Two hands slowly went up. Then I explained what we’d need to do to network out teams’ computers with each other, then with a bigger internal network.

This was something I had been trained to do back in 2003, but I would have had to take out a manual and scratch my head a lot to actually do it. Whereas a true computer geek can do shit like this in a few minutes. (One of my sons would have been handy to have).
After we had the computer geeks established, then I asked about experience at doing the stuff we were going to go through an exercise on. I had one soldier who’d actually really done this stuff, so I got to help train the rest and teach the experienced guy a few tricks.

It was good. I know I can retire knowing that there will be good soldiers to carry on our job- Mess Kit Repair.

We have the same sort of problems in police work…they put computers in the patrol cars, we write all our reports on computers…so it’s not the cops who can shoot and stuff that we need around, but the computer geeks who know how to re-boot that computer in the trunk of the car on graveyard.



What’s the world coming to?

Other Assigned Duties” & getting “Coined”

From the Soldier side: I’m going to ramble on a little about my final “AT” (National Guard Annual Training) as I am retiring. Being a Soldier and being a civilian copper have many things in common. Both get paid to shoot firearms and in both jobs,each day will usually bring something you may have never seen before. I laugh whenever I hear some old copper or soldier claim they’ve “seen it all.” If that is true, it’s time to wake up and start really looking.
Yeah the work might be repeated, but it’s the people who get thrown into the puzzle each day that you really have to watch and enjoy…or not.

One of my “Other Assigned Duties” in both professions was to get people to laugh when they were stressing out. I was the “Combat Comedian.”  (this is a duty that you'll never see in the books.)  In so many cases, some of my best humor was wasted on people who simply lacked the intelligence to fully comprehend the fact that we were often surrounded by some of the funniest shit anybody could ever imagine. Paid comedians couldn’t possibly make up shit this funny.

Of the dozen or so times I was on some little camp of FOB in Iraq and we came under mortar fire, I always tried to get people to calm down by getting them to laugh. In civilian police work, there’s almost nothing that could be as totally –cked up as having people you didn’t even know trying to blow you up….so I find almost no stress in police work these days.

At my last “AT” a few weeks ago…the “General Order #1” was put out: “NO DRINKING” until the end when we would have a EOATP (End of AT Party).

What the National Guard used to be all about!

So one of the things I did each afternoon when our company commander (a truly great person) was in the orderly room…I’d walk over to the company refrigerator and open it and say: “hey, can I have one of these beers?”  There was never actually any beer in there...

He would always look with an expression of great concern. I have a great deal of respect for this man, so I enjoyed getting him to laugh.
The last day of AT, they loaded the fridge' up with lots of beer.... then my joke wasn't funny any more....so I had to change it to: "Sir, you need to get to rehab." 

In the Army there are many old traditions. Sometimes I say: "The US Army, 200 years of tradition unchanged by progress."   One very old tradition is when a brand new officer gets his or her first salute from an Enlisted or NCO soldier, that officer is supposed to give that soldier a silver dollar coin. This is a great honor for both the new officer and the Soldier. In all my years in the Army, I have never had this honor…until this last AT. And it was not just me saluting a new LT, but I was the first to salute a brand new Warrant Officer. This is even more special because all of our Warrant Officers (we call them “Chief”) were former NCOs.

The “Chiefs” went through more crap to become a Chief than any brand new LT.

Not only did this Chief give me a Silver Dollar, but it was a real silver dollar from 1901! This tradition met so much to this Warrant Officer, that he went out of his way to find a real silver dollar. This is one of the most special things I will remember from the Army.

Custom coin, silver dollar, custom coin

I was also “Coined” by our new Battalion Commander, who I had worked with in Bosnia, then later went to Iraq, but didn’t work with her there. A soldier is given a Coin for doing something cool etc.

Honor, Respect and Duty. More on these thoughts to follow at a later date.

Citizen’s rights to do…

From the Soldier side: As my retirement from the National Guard gets closer, I’ve been going through some old papers and crap I had in a foot locker in my garage. If you know any old vet, I’m sure he or she will have some silly shit that they’ve kept over the years. Little things sometimes…that if you’re not careful, they’ll end up in the trash can.

One of the little scraps I found was from Bosnia. While I was deployed there, one of my sons e-mailed me and told me of an incident that took place at one of the high schools in my home town.

This incident went like this in summary: Little Jonny went to school with an America flag on his jacket…the American flag was attached upside down. A few other bully type male juveniles decided that little Jonny was not a good American, so they kicked little Jonny’s ass. This is what I wrote as a letter to the Editor of the local news paper:

“Editor: I am a California Army National Guard Soldier who has been called up and been deployed to Bosnia. My son just e-mailed me the story about the ---- student who was assaulted by other students because he wore an American Flag upside down.

Well, as a citizen soldier who has many years in the regular Army and the National Guard, I would like to say that even though I wear the American Flag on my shoulder everyday (right side up) I will support everyone’s right to freedom of speech, including wearing the flag anyway they want.

If the people who assaulted this boy want to fight someone, please have them join the military as soon as they grow up. We do not want soldiers who cannot control their emotions. I think to use the flag as an excuse to annoy and assault another is not the American Way.

I might also add that the kid who wore the Flag upside down, seems to lack the survival skills required to be a good soldier.”



This was my way of saying all these kids were useless oxygen bandits.