The Light

Here we are on the porch, with the light shining in darkness, back from Fort Hood with a happily off-duty Specialist. "Hey, dad, we're off work at 1300, can you pick me up? I'll serve Mass on Sunday," some kind of bribe? 

Regardless, off I went only to return to the sylvan groves of this small but steadfast farming community, at the Compound. But maybe trouble is brewing, a cloud's on the horizon, perhaps.

simpering poof

You see, the troops are excited, ecstatic and enthusiastic about the vax mandate. They're veritably lining up to get the jab. Like my kid, who got in early and nearly died because of it. No. Kidding. "What happens," he asked on the outskirts of Temple, "when a third, a quarter or even an eighth of Command refuses to take the jab in the face of a dishonorable discharge?"

terrifying

I told him him to keep his head down, get the degree (CS) which starts in October, and see where the wind blows. "We're in uncharted waters, son, and bombarded with so many lies that it's hard to keep track. And who knows, the Pentagon might strike a deal like the postal workers."

Go figure. You can be a "postie" and don't have to take the vax, but a soldier? Don't even think it. Illegal immigrant? No vax for you, no, of course not. That'd be racist. Again, here we are at the Emmys, maskless, rich, cavorting and free, unlike our waitserf underlings. Which forces us to wonder if the whole thing is utter BS.

you elite mountebanks

Wonder? There's no wonder in it at all except in the sheer magnitude of the deceit and the success of the thing. People are, still, consumed with fear of imminent death from a batflu with a >99.70 recovery rate. It's almost as if they wanted the STATE to control them.

That said, Truth, with a capital T, has a way of winning out. Take heart in that. And so we do, The light shineth in darkness and the darkness comprehendeth it not.

God bless,

LSP

Return to the Hood

 

After Mass and a beautiful moment on the porch watching sky water, you might call it "rain," fall from the heavens, it was time to brave I35 and take the Specialist back to Fort Hood.  It's not a bad drive, despite nightmarish roadworks in Waco, and before you know it there you are at the home of III Corps, Phantom Warriors.

As we drove down Tank Destroyer Boulevard, I growled "Phantom!" and he told me they'd had to practice exactly that cadence(?) to welcome a visiting general. Call it out soldiers, "PHANTOM, PHANTOM, PHANTOM!" Which they did when the inspiring pencil neck war leader arrived.

"How," asked the once and maybe future Cadet, "does an armored corps count as 'phantom'?" I held my tongue and didn't say "magicke, son." And then we were at 11 Signal Brigade HQ and the boy's incredibly pleasant looking barracks. Of course he feels most hard done by because he has to share a room, with a kitchen, no less.

I resisted the heady urge to say "height of luxury, m'boy!" and instead took a few photos of Brigade HQ. There it was, the Thunderbird Headquarters, and I was impressed. Quite a set up. His unit, 57th Expeditionary Signals Battalion (ESB) is fairly new, conceived of in the 1920s and activated in WWII, where it fought in seven campaigns, not least Anzio and D-Day.

57th ESB didn't see action again until Gulf War I, II and Afghanistan, where it served well, being awarded two Meritorious Unit Commendations as of 2019 with B Company, my son's, having an additional award. He wants to stay in B Company. He's also finished the paperwork to start a degree in Computer Science in October, which is most important.

Well done young man, keep it up.

Phantom,

LSP

Rocky Paths

 

Same Old Rock

Some of you enjoy idyllic trout streams and rivers full of salmon or walleye, others again spend their time sea fishing off the coasts of fabled islands. Me? It's mostly all about Lake Whitney and, to be fair, the mighty Brazos, which is where I went this morning in a desperate bid to escape the crazy.

"Maybe getting out in the clean air of Texas will do you good," I thought grimly to myself as I loaded a couple of rods into the bed of the rig, "As opposed to staring in slack-jawed Francoist consternation at the end of the world."

Witch way mysticke sister?

And yes, it was good to get to the lake and cast off into the depths, and there were plenty of fish, no doubt about it, I could see them gliding by the bank and jumping with fierce predatory aggression. But did I catch any?

No. I did not. It was like our wars, Enemy 1, Home Team 0, but what am I saying. Every moment spent under the free sky of Texas is a moment worth living, a victory in itself. Just you try it and see. 

Ye Olde LSP

In the meanwhile, the Specialist called in and's settling down well into his his new unit, 57th ESB (expeditionary tactical signals). He has, predictably, asked to be sent to Central Asia, but fortunately that's off bounds for now. Not a good deployment, eh?

That aside, there is an equestrian club at Ft. Hood which practices boot-to-boot cav charges, swords out, run! I told him, "Well you can ride, so join in. Just don't fall off and skewer yourself with your wretched sabre." Always paternal, you see.

Your Best Pal,

LSP

Boyz in The Hood

You may be surprised at this or you may not, but my eldest seemed way happier in uniform than  he was pretending to be a civilian for the last month. Seriously. Hey, just as well, because the kid had to report to Fort Hood today.

We drove out down the Highway to Hell that is I35 and emerged miraculously unscathed in Killeen, a short hop from there to "The Great Place," home of III Corps Phantom Warriors and lots more besides, not least expeditionary signals.

After waiting for an hour to get a pass to enter the fort, we drove on through to the vastness of the thing, and it is huge. The 1st Cavalry motorpool(s) alone probably mustered more armor than the UK's combined equivalent. Quite a thing.

Then we had a late lunch at a dysfunctional Burger King on base and I dropped the Specialist off at the "Welcome Center." Well done, boy, respect. He's got 2 weeks of in-processing and then joins his unit, 57 Expeditionary Signals Battalion, who've been blessed with lighter kit, demanding 4 man teams and a leadership program to boot.

Well, let's see how that goes. In the meanwhile, maybe I should go in as a volunteer chaplain, it'd add another level of accountability, as t'were. Just a thought.

Whatever, good luck son, you've done well so far. Now let's see "green to gold," not that there's any pressure, heh.

God bless,

LSP

The Boy is Back in Town

 

It was Tuesday when I got the call, "Hey, dad, I've missed my flight." I paused, "Excuse me?" It was true, the Specialist had specially missed his flight from Osan airbase to Seattle and thence to Dallas. And he was freaked out at the prospect of, well, all kinds of trouble.

In a spirit of "no man left behind," I called up Camp Humphreys, explained the situation, and before you could say "Imjin Hill meets Glorious Glosters" spoke to a perfectly polite Korean woman who perfectly rescheduled the flight.

Typical Goucesters

Another call, this time to a soldier in a taxi returning to base, "Your flight's rescheduled to Thursday, it leaves at Noon." A shocked silence, "You got through? Wow, thanks." And the next thing you know, the kid was standing at the carousel at Terminal C. "Welcome home!"

Seriously, it's the first leave of any length he's had in one and a half years. Thanks, scamdemic. I took him out to an Irish pub around the corner for Guinness, fries and orange duck, of all things. "Look at this, orange duck, just like being in Ireland, eh?" Tasty, though.

Justine Trudeau The Face of Canada

He's off to Canada on Saturday, if they'll let him through the border, and then back to Texas in August before deploying to Fort Hood. And that, readers, is the story of that. I tell you, good to see my eldest son again.

Cheers,

LSP

PFC Update

 

So what's going in the world of the PFC? The big news is that he's no longer a lowly PFC but a Specialist. Well done Kid, you ranked up ahead of schedule. LL put it well, "A new collar device and a payday," and then burst into poetry:

Every day in the Army is like a picnic.

Every meal a banquet,

Every paycheck a fortune.

Every formation a parade!

 

Onwards, Specialist, to Sergeant and to your next post, which is Fort Hood in August. He's pretty excited about his new Battalion because it travels, and I'm happy about the location. Ft. Hood's close by, too. Nice.

Good work, son,

LSP

Stock Tank Plinker

Finally broke free of Dallas and headed off to the country, where it smells better, you can ride arabian horses and plink about at stock tanks, which is what I did.

Good to get back on the horses, though the one I was riding seemed to think she was through about half way through the ride... some say this is common. Regardless, she changed her mind and we had a good canter about. Most enjoyable.

Afterwards stopped at a roadside Mexican place called 'Karen's', oddly. Senora Karen served an excellent brisket and bean tortilla; I never knew there was such a thing - and now I'm glad I do.

More seriously, and you'll forgive me for dredging up old news, but why is it that the MSM near enough refuse to acknowledge religious motivation to the Fort Hood shooter? Are they right to do this? Perhaps they're being 'strategic' and acting in some veiled kind of way to defend the country? Again, maybe shouting the Islamic war cry before killing people has nothing to do with religion. Or is it simply the case that we've lost confidence in our culture to such an extent that we're unable to rise to the challenge of an ideology implacably opposed to ours and pretend it just isn't there.

Forgive the lack of levity, on a happier note, have a blessed Feast of St. Edmund.

Shoot straight,

LSP