Oh HELL no...

This was the subject of more than a little discussion at the meetings I've been at the last two days... ALL of the participants in the discussions were unanimous in their derision of this plan... and that included the Marines present...

By Chinara Lucas, Secretary of the Navy Public Affairs

JOHNSTOWN, Pa. (NNS) -- The secretary of the Navy (SECNAV) honored the legacy of the late U.S. Representative John Murtha by declaring April 23 that the Navy's 10th San Antonio-class amphibious transport dock ship, LPD 26, will bear his name.

The announcement was made at John P. Murtha Johnstown-Cambria County airport in Johnstown, Pa., a town Murtha held close to his heart.

SECNAV Ray Mabus was accompanied by Joyce and Donna Murtha, Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, U.S. Representative Norm Dicks of Washington and U.S. Representative David Obey of Wisconsin.

You can read the rest of this HERE... And feel free to leave a comment! I did...

Voodoo Warrior said it best... I just want to throw up...

And here is a copy of the letter from the AFTP site, (which has now disappeared) that I copied with permission and sent to my Congresscritters...

Feel free to use this or write a better one!

Congressman XXXX,
I am writing to you to express my displeasure as a retired Naval Flight Officer, that you all would even consider naming a U.S. navy ship after John Murtha. While I do understand that he served in the United States Marine Corps he also condemed our troops prior in Iraq of murdering innocent Iraqi's. As we know the Marines were found innocent of any wrongdoing. Here are a few of Joh Murtha's quotes about the Marines in Haditha Iraq.

"It [Haditha, Marines] is as bad as Abu Ghraib, if not worse."
(Murtha, May 2006)

"They [the Marines/Military] knew the day after this happened that it was not as they portrayed it. They knew that they (Marines) went into the rooms, they killed the people in the taxi. There was no firing at all. And this comes from the highest authority in the Marine Corps, so there's no question in my mind,"
(Murtha, May 2006)

"... they [Marine] killed innocent civilians in cold blood."
(Murtha, May 17, 2006 at news conference)

"There was no firefight. There was no IED that killed these innocent people. Our troops overreacted because of the pressure on them, and they killed innocent civilians in cold blood"
(Murtha, May 19, 2006)

"They actually went into the houses and killed women and children. And there was about twice as many as originally reported by Times."
(Murtha, Reuters, May 19, 2006)

"Our troops over-reacted because of the pressure on them, and they killed innocent civilians in cold blood."
(Murtha, ARAB WORLD NEWS, May 19, 2006)

"It's [Haditha, Marines] much worse than reported in Time magazine."
(Murtha, News.comAU, May 18, 2006)

BLITZER: The marines say they're still investigating. They don't know what happened yet. The pentagon says the same thing. How do you know what happened?

MURTHA: Wolf, you read the "Time" magazine articles. There are pictures, there are photos. You don't have to talk to the military about the proof.
(Murtha, on CNN/Wolf Blitzer, May 19, 2006... transcript)

All of his quotes were unfounded. He turned his back on the military and now you all want to name a United States military ship after him?

Have you all in Washington lost touch with the american people or have you all just lost your minds? if you want to name a ship after a United States Marine that's fine. No problem.

Allow me to reccomend a name that is much more fitting and much more deserving. Gunnery Sergeant Carlos Norman Hathcock III. Marine Sniper. In Vietnam he had around 97 confirmed kills. That is not counting the unconfirmed. He also risked his life when a convoy vehicle he was riding in hit a vietnamese landmine. Did he jump out? No sir. He turned around and physically threw every other Marine in that truck out before he himself jumped. If you are going to name a ship after somebody than make it someone who served with honor not just while they were in the military but after they got out.

Gunnery Sergeant Hathcock is a legend in the world of not only the United States Marine Corps but all of the United States Military. If you are going to do this then do it right. Name the ship after someone who lived their lives with Honor, Courage and Commitment. That sir, does not describe John Murtha.

Sincerely,

Now I could also go with naming it for Mike Monsoor, which is what I suggested on the Navy site...

Taps: Pam Murphy, the widow of WWII hero Audie Murphy...

Great Story about a great Lady, and apparently little or NO mainstream media coverage..

It appears this is ONLY getting coverage within the Veterans/Military circles...

Pam Murphy, widow of actor Audie Murphy, was veterans’ friend and advocate

April 16, 2010

By: Dennis McCarthy

Pam Murphy, the widow of Audie Murphy, was involved in the Sepulveda VA hospital and care center over the course of 35 years, treating every veteran who visited the facility as if they were a VIP. Pam Murphy died last week at the age of 90.

After Audie died, they all became her boys. Every last one of them.

Any soldier or Marine who walked into the Sepulveda VA hospital and care center in the last 35 years got the VIP treatment from Pam Murphy.

The widow of Audie Murphy – the most decorated soldier in World War II – would walk the hallways with her clipboard in hand making sure her boys got to see a specialist or doctor — STAT. If they didn't, watch out.

Her boys weren't Medal of Honor recipients or movie stars like Audie, but that didn't matter to Pam. They had served their country. That was good enough for her.

She never called a veteran by his first name. It was always "Mister." Respect came with the job.
"Nobody could cut through VA red tape faster than Mrs. Murphy," said veteran Stephen Sherman, speaking for thousands of veterans she befriended over the years.

"Many times I watched her march a veteran who had been waiting more than an hour right into the doctor's office. She was even reprimanded a few times, but it didn't matter to Mrs. Murphy.
"Only her boys mattered. She was our angel."

Last week, Sepulveda VA's angel for the last 35 years died peacefully in her sleep at age 90.
"She was in bed watching the Laker game, took one last breath, and that was it," said Diane Ruiz, who also worked at the VA and cared for Pam in the last years of her life in her Canoga Park apartment.

It was the same apartment Pam moved into soon after Audie died in a plane crash on Memorial Day weekend in 1971.

Audie Murphy died broke, squandering million of dollars on gambling, bad investments, and yes, other women.

"Even with the adultery and desertion at the end, he always remained my hero," Pam told me.

She went from a comfortable ranch-style home in Van Nuys where she raised two sons to a small apartment - taking a clerk's job at the nearby VA to support herself and start paying off her faded movie star husband's debts.

At first, no one knew who she was. Soon, though, word spread through the VA that the nice woman with the clipboard was Audie Murphy's widow.

It was like saying Patton had just walked in the front door. Men with tears in their eyes walked up to her and gave her a hug. "Thank you," they said, over and over.

The first couple of years, I think the hugs were more for Audie's memory as a war hero. The last 30 years, they were for Pam.

She hated the spotlight. One year I asked her to be the focus of a Veteran's Day column for all the work she had done. Pam just shook her head no.

"Honor them, not me," she said, pointing to a group of veterans down the hallway. "They're the ones who deserve it."

The vets disagreed. Mrs. Murphy deserved the accolades, they said.

Incredibly, in 2002, Pam's job was going to be eliminated in budget cuts. She was considered "excess staff."

"I don't think helping cut down on veterans' complaints and showing them the respect they deserve, should be considered excess staff," she told me.

Neither did the veterans. They went ballistic, holding a rally for her outside the VA gates.

Pretty soon, word came down from the top of the VA. Pam Murphy was no longer considered "excess staff." She remained working full time at the VA until 2007 when she was 87.

"The last time she was here was a couple of years ago for the conference we had for homeless veterans," said Becky James, coordinator of the VA's Veterans History Project.

Pam wanted to see if there was anything she could do to help some more of her boys.

Funeral services for Pam Murphy will be held Friday at 2:30 p.m. in the chapel at Forest Lawn, Hollywood Hills, 6300 Forest Lawn Drive, Los Angeles.

No question- She was part of the greatest generation... RIP Mrs. M, RIP

VT-10 Reunion...

Naval Flight Officer Wings

Naval Flight Officer Astronaut Wings

VT-10 is the place where ALL Naval Flight Officers who desire to wear the Wings of Gold pictured above, received their basic air training regardless of follow on platform; be it Jets as a RIO (F-4/F-14/FA-18), BN (A-6/FA-18, or TACCO/NAV (S-2/S-3), EWOs (EA-6B), NAV/TACCO/SEVAL/ECMO (various P-3s/C-130/E-6). Male/female, young/old we ALL had to survive AOCS then VT-10, to actually get to advanced training and get our wings.

Two apocryphal stories surround both Navy and Marine Pilots and NFOs- One is that for every 1000 people that actually start the application process, only one ever gets the wings of gold. The second is the cost to train a single Navy or Marine Pilot or NFO costs roughly $1,000,000 each. Personally I can believe both of them, as I've seen the literally hundreds if not more applications sitting in the board offices in DC for each class, and I know that three years of training (on average) does NOT come cheap! For example, by the time an aviator gets to his/her squadron, they will have roughly 100 flight hours, at an average of $11,000/hr that is well over a million dollars right there...

Anyhoo...

VT-10 is celebrating the 50th anniversary of NFO training in Pensacola with a Reunion June 23-25. There are several great events planned, including a Dining Out,
golf tournament, symposium, social, and a winging. All the details are available at http://wildcat50thanniversary.weebly.com

We're extending an invitation to all NFOs and former VT-10 staff.

The coordinator can be reached at wildcatreuniongroup@gmail.com

I know there are a few um... "old" NFOs that wander by here occasionally, so if you're interested, go sign up. I'm going to try to make it myself!

Drinks in the Cubi O'Club bar at 1830 on the 23rd, first round is on me :-)

100000...

WOW, I passed a milestone I didn't think I'd reach till about 2020...

I started Nobody Asked Me 2 years 11 months ago as a way to vent some frustrations, and I really didn't care who did or didn't read it...

Now, 511 posts later, with 94 readers y'all have taken me to heights I never expected. I've met some great people, both in the real world, and via the Internet...

Got to go shooting (a bunch), go to dinner (quite a few times), get plenty of comments of ALL descriptions, and found out that there are folks just like me out there :-)

Anyhoo, Mr or Mrs, or Ms. 100,000 who came in at 607pm, email me and I'll send you a small gift... :-)

And most of all, thanks to all who visited, and my 94 loyal readers, who actually come back more than once... without y'alls hits, it would have NEVER happened, and I'd STILL be looking at 2020 to get this milestone.

I know I'm not in the big leagues, and never will be, but I am enjoying myself and I hope y'all are too!!!

Thanks again... Old NFO

A few Colts...

New Jovian Thunderbolt got me thinking about this with his post HERE on his Smiths... Now I haven't been to the range with all of these at once, but I'd expect similar results to what NJT got...


Now most of his blogging is gun related, and I enjoy it so here is my counterpoint :-)

A few Colts

L-R: Colt Agent, Diamondback .22, Diamondback .38, Python .357, Model 17

Now all of mine are the 'proper' color... Blue... :-)

But seriously I do want to address a point for those who carry, especially those who carry BUGs and revolvers in general. Do you practice with it? Do you practice reloads? Do you know which way the cylinder turns???

Do you know the trigger in DA? Is it really heavy (12lb)? Does it stack? How far does it have to travel to reset???

Why am I asking? And why are these pics all of Colts? Because A. I grew up shooting them. B. We hear instructors talk about "muscle memory" and how that will be the default when the SHTF...

Let me give you the rest of the story- We did a BUG shoot at an IDPA meet. No problem, right? Well, I had a S&W 637 (and yes, I'd shot it and 'practiced' with it). The scenario was empty weapon on the table and either speed loader or speed strip and two spare rounds lying next to the gun. The COF was load up, shoot 1st target X2, RELOAD two rounds, then 2 and 2 in the next two targets and finish with a head shot to target 1.

Simple, right???

um... not so much...

First, I 'forgot' what I was shooting when the buzzer went off, and I promptly proceeded to try to pull back on the cylinder release (Colts release that way). After a couple of tries, I did the DOH! thing and PUSHED and got the cylinder open. Popped a speed loader in away I went...


Two rounds in target one (7:30- not used to S&W trigger stack), pull pull, PUSH dammit... two expended rounds are on top, pop them out, insert two new rounds, 2X on target 2; bang, click, click on target 3... I'm done...

Since I "knew" Colt's rotate clockwise, I 'knew' the empties would be on top; except that I was shooting a S&W, which rotates counter-clockwise, so I had pulled out two unfired rounds, left the two fired cases in the pistol (on the bottom) and proceeded to screw up the entire stage. To say I was embarrassed is an understatement- I felt totally stupid, but the more I thought about it, the more it hit home that "muscle memory" really does work, whether we want it to or not...


And this is one of the reasons I'd always stayed with Colts in the pistol side of the house in every case EXCEPT that S&W 637 (which is now for sale)...


Colts, in my opinion, shoot better (probably because I'm used to a Colt trigger); and are smoother to operate (again due to thousands of rounds). I 'know' where everything is, and pistol to pistol I don't really notice a change. Now I have friends that are S&W fanatics, and Ruger fanatics, and that's great for them...


Bottom line- My (for what that is worth), recommendation is if you shoot pistols, get and stay with ONE manufacturer, and LEARN that mfg/pistol's habits (push/pull; clockwise/counter) and go to the range and shoot them. That will help you develop that "muscle memory" that just might save your life...


And yeah, I've missed a bunch of deals on S&W pistols, and it's easy to find holster for Smiths and Rugers, and... and... But I STILL like my Colts :-)

Today's Lesson...

Sometimes, we try too hard to get to the greener grass...

In the process, we end up in trouble...

And when you find yourself in trouble and you're stuck in a situation that you can't get out of, there is one thing you should always remember...

Not everyone who shows up is there to help you!!!!

And then there's speed control in Kansas...

No confirmation to the rumor of an old man sitting in a rocking chair with a lever action .30-.30... nope... not a one... :-)

Taglines...

For you 'youngsters' Taglines were things we used on posts and comments going back to BBS (we're talking 1970s here) to identify people's "beliefs" or as a "comment" on the world... These carried forward to the forums that started in the late 80s and you will still see them used in some places...

I was digging around in the attic (well the backups on some I-Omega drives I had) and I ran across these from I'm guessing the early to mid- 90s. I have no idea where or why I collected them, other than some of them were pretty good, but these just go to show the sentiments then were NOT much different than now, and Lo and Behold, ALSO under a democrat...

There actually were about three pages worth, but I took most of the Clinton ones out... BTDT threw the T-shirt away...

Anyhoo, Enjoy...

Two most common elements in the universe: Hydrogen & Stupidity.

Good Night America, Where Ever You Are!

A Cult is a Religion with no Political Power. (See Waco)

The Government reserves the right to REFUSE to serve everyone.

Victory is only relative, defeat is truly decisive.

USA.SYS corrupted: Eradicate politicians? (Y/Y)

Fight Organized Crime, Shoot Politicians...

The more corrupt the state, the more numerous the laws. - Tacitus

Smith & Wesson - Symbol of American Freedom

They can have my gun ... one bullet at a time!

At any time, at any place, FBI snipers can drop you. Have a nice day.

The way to a man's heart is with a broadsword.

If voting really effected change, it would be illegal.

BATF = Bureau of Arsonists, Traitors & Fascists

"We must kill you to save you." - new BATF/FBI motto

Judge - An Unemployed Lawyer Who Wears a Black Dress.

Yah, the Constitution, my grandfather had that, he could work all day!

Bill of Rights: Void where Prohibited by Law

And remember, you can't spell DEALER without DEA.

I know my facts are right. I heard it on NBC.

Don't take my car, officer. I wasn't speeding. Really!

The first rule of intelligent tinkering is to save all the parts.

If you cannot love your Constitution, at least hate the Government.

The supposed quietude of a good man allures the ruffian. - Paine

"the Constitution doesn't require the use of inferior weapons" - Kopel

The greatest difficulty comes at the start. It's called--getting ready.

The Second Amendment guarantees the other nine. My nine guarantees the 2nd.

FBI = Fire & Brimstone Inc.

Error opening CLINTON.LIE Cannot find TRAITOR2.USA

Smith & Wesson, the ultimate in feminine protection.

Government "compassion" requires the victimization of someone else.

"Sleep tight Janet, you had a good day" 4/19/93 Clinton

Gun control killed the Branch Davidians

If you're happy and you know it, clank your chains

Friends come and go, but enemies accumulate in a pile outside.

The gov't can support as many poor people as it is willing to create.

Criminals work for the State created Law Enforcement Growth Industry.

Tested on small, cute, furry animals with big, sad eyes

Of the government, by the government, for the government {GAG RETCH}

Remember -- "Nazi" is short for "National SOCIALIST"

My economic barometer just sucked itself to death.

Do YOU trust a government that won't obey it's OWN LAWS?!

The rulers learn from history, why don't the subjects? Cause the ruler

When guns are outlawed, only the Government & Criminals will have guns!

Why are they making the streets safe for criminals?

911 -- Government sponsored Dial-A-Prayer

1911 -- People activated solution to crime.

Nov 3, 1992 The day America committed suicide.

Long Island R.R. - Gun Control disarmed the passengers!

Gun control "protects" you from being able to shoot back.

Politicians are not hoplophobes, they DO have a reason to fear guns.

NRA life member JFK was shot by ACLU member L. H. Oswald.

Without a gun, the flag you're waving may as well be WHITE! B. Moore

BATF: Building Another Terrible Fiasco

Rhodes Scholarships - Studies in world domination...

The family that shoots together shouldn't be messed with!

Thought of the day: If Vince Foster had a gun, he would still be alive.

Health care with the efficiency of the post office, compassion of IRS.

God didn't make us equal, Sam Colt did. But God made Sam Colt..go loop.

That which does not kill us is below us on the food chain.

Can you say Superfranticunproductiveuselesslegislation?!!

Arm the citizens, let the citizens disarm the criminals.

Hey there, Hi there Ho there, we're as happy as can be ...

Freedom means being in fear for your life and loving it.

Did you know that an anagram for 'Senator' is 'Treason'?

Plant Majick -- OKRANOMICON

KNOCK, KNOCK -(who's there?) - ATF -(Un-Uh, ATF doesn't knock!)

Why were there more tanks in Waco than in Somolia?

Cross Lassie with cantaloupe; get meloncollie baby.

FONG'S MONGOLIAN GRILL & GUNWORKS.

Awright, who peed in the gene pool?!!??

Flexilis sum, gluten es, me resilit, ad te haeret!

I am (rubber), you are (glue), it bounces from me and sticks to you!

Mind counts are ALWAYS more important than body counts -L. Mayo

They tried to cure me once, I'm demanding double my mania back.

Off to see the lizard....

You non-conformists are all alike.

Me... a skeptic? I trust you have proof...

Diplomacy: Saying "nice doggy" until you find a rock.

Diplomacy: Saying "nice doggy" until you get a sight picture.

I'm a peaceful man. Ain’t nothin' quite as peaceful as a dead troublemaker

"Immoral laws aren't worthy of obedience" - W. Williams

When the GUN Police are done, can the THOUGHT Police be far behind?

Turned in my guns, all I got was this tube of funny looking jelly.

Turned in my guns, and I got 10 weeks of food.

Turned in my mom and I got this neat credit implant, good for 1 year.

When guns are outlawed, become a criminal or bare your ass. ...

Origin: Gun Control=Criminals & Gestapo vs. the Unarmed.

McPrisons: now over 1 Million served!

Clinton had more tanks in Waco than Mogadishu.

So much for officer friendly...to Serve and obliterate.

A religion is a cult with an adequate army.

"Light questioning, that's less than 10 stitches"-BATF/a cop wrote it!

WACO: The FBI Forbade Them Surrender...Then Massacred Children & All.

From the Committee to Use Professional Politicians as Lab Animals.

Be vewy vewy quiet, I'm hunting blue beenie Waskels

Gun laws are enforced at gunpoint. -- L. Neil Smith

The RED ARMY - The official dog food of Chechnya (TM)(c) 1995 Jeff Rudd

If it saves just one life...enslaving you was worth it. -Liberal Credo

If brains are outlawed....nothing will change.

Coldly it lies [..], "I, the state, am the people" -- Nietzsche

The best deterrent to *active, violent* anti-Semitism is a full magazine!

And this set of classics, collected over a couple of weeks from, I believe, TFL...

"Oh Bother," said Pooh, and called in an air strike.
"Oh Bother," said Pooh, and aimed 1" down from the T and 1" right.
"Oh Bother," said Pooh, and nuked DC from orbit just to be sure.
"Oh Bother," said Pooh, as ate some borrowed UN MRE's.
"Oh Bother," said Pooh, as he shot the UN commander.
"Oh Bother," said Pooh, when he saw there were no more blue targets.
"Oh Bother", said Pooh, as he got tone and downed the UN fighter.
"Oh Bother", said Pooh, as he pushed the plunger & the UN building crumbled
"Oh Bother", said Pooh, and then he pulled his .45 and shot the UN soldier
"Oh Bother", said Pooh, as he blew up the dam on the advancing UN Army.
"Oh Bother", said Pooh, as he shot three IRS agents padlocking his home.
"Oh Bother", said Pooh, as he shoved in a fresh magazine.


Anybody remember this sequence??? Anyone???
Beuler???

crickets...

Gotta "Love" the Canucks...

They're nuts... Just plain NUTS... :-)

My only question is where did they hide the scuba tank???

THE INCREDIBLY STUPID ONE...

I was going to write about what's going on around us right now, but everything I put on paper was negative, so I decided to put something positive up... Most if not all of you have probably never heard of Doug Hegdahl, or his story, but it IS a story of ingenuity, perseverance and service to our country...

(SN HEGDAHL, USS CANBERRA - PRISONER OF WAR)
By Dick "Beak" Stratton, Captain, USN (Ret.)

It was a warmer than usual summer day in Clark, South Dakota when a rather large and ungainly young man, a recent high school graduate, set about finding his way in the world. The salivating Navy recruiter asked the youngster what it would take to have him sign up: "why, I'd like to go to Australia." It was as good as done. After all, in 1966, if you were lucky enough to ship out on the USS Canberra, more likely than not, during the course of your hitch, there will be a port call to the ship's namesake-Canberra, Australia.

This young man came from a solid, patriotic Norwegian Lutheran stock that believed when your country called, you answered. You did not go to the bus station but to the recruiting station. You did not go to Oxford, you went to Vietnam. So Douglas Brent Hegdahl III shipped out to boot camp at San Diego, where he slept through the Code of Conduct lectures since he would not be fighting in the trenches. Lo and behold, he did get orders to the USS Canberra. At that time Canberra with 8-inch guns mounted on the pointy end and missiles on the round end was assigned to steam with the Gulf of Tonkin Yacht Club in the South China Sea off the coast of Vietnam. (And, yes, She did have Canberra, Australia on her Port of Call list.)

Doug's battle station was the aft ammunition handling room for the 5-inch guns, located aft in the bowels of the ship. One morning he had the 0100 watch while the Canberra was steaming down the coast of North Vietnam firing its 8-inch guns against targets of opportunity (bicycles, water buffalo and occasional trucks) on Highway 1. At about 0330 he rolled out of the rack. Being a prudent farm boy, he locked all his valuables in his locker and then proceeded to go out on deck for a breath of fresh air before manning his battle station.

Now there is a non-repetitive exercise in the surface Navy called "going out on deck when big guns are firing." If the concussion does not blow you over the side, it will at least blow out your eardrums. But Doug must have slept through that safety lecture. He doesn't know what happened. Either not being night-adapted, or being without his glasses, or concussion did it, he ended up going arse over teakettle into the South China Sea about three miles offshore with no life preserver, no identification, no nothing. Meanwhile he watched the Love Boat merrily steaming over the horizon, firing at the coastline and never missing him for two days.

There is not much to do in the South China Sea at 0345. He took off his boondockers and hung them around his neck in case he needed them when he reached shore. He stripped off his dungarees, zipped up the fly, tie off the cuffs and popped them over his head, as he was taught, to make a life preserver. He reports back to you that it doesn't work. (He missed the part about old dungarees, with holes, out of the Lucky Bag would have to be kept wet if they were to hold any air at all.) So he put on his trousers, socks and shoes. (Sharks? Sea snakes?)

Somewhere along the line he had heard that drowning was a "nice way to die;" so he thought he would try it out. He put his hands over his head and down he went-bloop, bloop, bloop. Now both he and I had heard the myth that when drowning you would get cuddly, warm, all the nice things in your life would flash by in your mind and you would go to your eternal reward to the sound of music (harp?). Doug resurfaced and reports back to us that it is all malarkey: there are no movies, there is no music and it's colder than Hell!

As dawn came he started swimming away from the sun, hopefully towards shore. He could see the haze of land, but the harder he tried, the further back it receded. So he just rolled on his back, playing like a whale, humming a few tunes and saying a few prayers. Notice he never gave up. How many people have we been exposed to in the course of our lives, in a situation like that would have just plain given up? About 1800 that same day, a Vietnamese fishing boat came by and hauled him out of the water-some twelve hours later.

Even those peasant fishermen could figure out that this moose would never fit in the cockpit of an A4 Skylark. They turned him upside down and inside out which garnered them absolutely nothing. Remember, he had prudently left everything back on the ship in his locker. Picture yourself being tortured to admit you were a CIA agent who entered the water in Coronado, California to swim ten thousand miles across the Pacific to infiltrate their shores!

When the authorities got him ashore, they showed Doug piles of materials allegedly written by Yankee Air Pirates who had been captured before him (95% of those captured in North Vietnam had been tortured, were not offered the option of death, and were made to give more than Name, Rank, Serial Number and Date of Birth sequence permitted by the Military Code of Conduct and required by International Law). Doug recognized that something was amiss, but, as he said later, "Geeze, they're officers, they must know what they are doing." So he decided his best ploy was to pretend to be stupid.

He got them off target by comparing farms in North Vietnam and South Dakota. He didn't realize that even then the Communists were categorizing him to gauge his usefulness to their cause. His dad had about ten motel units, numberless vehicles and all kinds of land-but no water buffalo. No water buffalo meant in Vietnamese parlance that he was a "poor peasant." This is just as well, as Communists had murdered over 20 million "rich peasants" in their various revolutions, because those folks are unreconstructed capitalists. A little miffed at first, Doug caught on right away-he is a quick study-it was to his advantage to play out the poor peasant act to the bitter end.

Tired of the verbal jousting the Communist cadres told him that he would have to write and anti-war statement for them. He joyously agreed. The interrogators were dumbfounded. This was the first Yankee to agree to do anything without being tortured first. They brought out the paper, ink and pens. He admired them all and then stated: "But one small thing. I can't read or write. I'm a poor peasant." This was quite credible to the Vietnamese since their poor peasants could neither read nor write. So they assigned a Vietnamese to teach him penmanship, spelling, grammar and sentence structure. Immediately his learning curve went flat. Eventually, the interrogators gave up in disgust; writing a confession for him and having him sign it in an illegible scrawl. He admitted to the war crime of shelling the presidential birthplace of Ho Chi Minh and signed it as Seaman Apprentice Douglas Brent Hegdahl III, United States Navy Reserve, Commanding Officer, USS Canberra. No one has ever seen this piece of paper.

Doug was shuffled around from pillar to post, since his captors didn't know where he would fit into their propaganda plans. One mistake they made was to put him in for a while with Joe Crecca, an Air Force officer who had developed a method of creating the most organized memory bank we possessed to record the names of pilots shot down and imprisoned in Vietnam. Joe took this young Seaman and, recognizing the potential, painstakingly taught Doug not only 256 names, but also, the method of memorizing, cross-referencing and retrieving those names. It was no easy task that Joe set for himself for it was not intuitively obvious to Doug the value of such mental gymnastics.

It was a hot summer day when I first met Doug. I was in solitary confinement again. The Communists did not care for me, which was OK because I didn't like them either. My cell door opened and here was this big moose standing in his skivvie shorts (prison uniform of the day). "My name is Seaman Douglas Brent Hegdahl, Sir. What's yours?" It is awful hard to look dignified when you are standing in your underwear, knock-kneed, ding-toed, pot-bellied, unwashed and unshaven for 100 days. I automatically recited, "Dick Stratton, Lieutenant Commander, USS Ticonderoga." Immediately I saw that I probably made a mistake as his eyes rolled back in his head and you could see what he was thinking: "Cripes, another officer!" But notice that instinctively he asked the critical and most important question for survival: "Who is your senior?" The rule we lived by was: "If I am senior, I will take charge; if junior, I will obey."

The Communists took a siesta for two hours every afternoon which was a good deal for us as we were free from torture and harassment. I was laying on the floor on my bed board and Doug was skipping, yes, skipping around the room. I asked: "Doug, what are you doing?" He paused for a moment, looked me in the eye and cryptically said: "Skipping, Sir" and continued to skip. A stupid question, a stupid answer. After a moment, I again queried: "What ya doin' that for?" This stopped him for a moment. He paused and cocked his head thoughtfully, smiled and replied: "You got anything better to do,Sir?" I didn't. He continued skipping. I guess he did learn one thing from boot camp. You can say anything you want to an officer as long as you smile and say "sir."

One siesta period he said: Hey, Beak, you went to college and studied government; do you know the Gettysburg Address?" We got a brick (no paper or pencils for the criminals) and started to write it out on the tile floor until we got it correct. Then he stopped me with the question: "Can you say it backwards?" Well, who would want to say the Gettysburg Address backwards? Certainly not the Jesuits at Georgetown and especially not me. Doug could say it backwards, verbatim, rapidly. I know because I could track him from the written version we had on the floor.

"So what?" you might say. The so what is that when they threw him out of Vietnam, and throw him out they did, he came out with 256 names that Joe Crecca had taught him memorized by service, by rank and alphabetically; next to each name he had a dog's name, kid's name or social security number to verify the quality of the name which we had picked up by tap code, deaf spelling code or secret notes. He still has those names memorized today and sings them to the tune of "Old MacDonald Has a Farm." One of our intelligence officers asked him if he could slow the recitation down to make for easier copying. Doug replied "No" that it was like riding a bike, you had to keep moving or you would fall off. If it weren't for Joe Crecca, Doug and our government would not have had those names until the end of war five years later.

In trying to get people to accept early propaganda releases, the Communists would have some "good cop" interrogator like the ones we called the "Soft Soap Fairy" talk to the prospect and sound him out for pliability. They got Doug one day and asked what we eventually learned to be the lead question: "What do you want more than anything else in the world?" The answer of the weak and willing was : "To go home to my family." Doug thought for a long time, then cocked his head with a smile and said "Why, I'd like a pillow, Sir." This was not an unreasonable response since we had no pillows on our cement pads or bed boards. However, the response sure confounded the enemy. They eventually came up with a name for Doug amongst the guards and interrogators: "The Incredibly Stupid One." His original resistance ploy had paid off.

Because they thought him stupid, they would let him go out in the cell block courtyard during the siesta to sweep up the grounds period monitored by only one sleepy, peasant guard. I thought that was great since it kept him from skipping and I could get some rest. However, curiosity got the better of me and I started to watch him through a peephole we had bored in the cell door. He'd go sweeping and humming until the guard was lulled to sleep. Then Doug would back up to a truck, spin the gas cap off the standpipe, stoop down and put a small amount ("Small, because it's going to be a long war, Sir.") of dirt in the gas tank and replace the cap. I watched him over a period of time do this to five trucks.

Now, I'm a liberal arts major who shot himself down, so all I can do is report what I saw. There were five trucks working in the prison; I saw Doug work on five trucks; I saw five trucks towed disabled out of the prison camp. Doug Hegdahl, a high school graduate from the mess decks fell off a ship and has five enemy trucks to his credit. I am a World Famous Golden Dragon (VA 192) with two college degrees, 2000 jet hours, 300 carrier landings and 22 combat missions. How many enemy trucks do I have to my credit? Zero. Zip. Nada. De Rien. 0. Who's the better man? Douglas Brent Hegdahl, one of two men I know of who destroyed enemy military equipment while a prisoner of war.

Later on, Doug, having left his eyeglasses on board Canberra, discovered that he had difficulty linking up isolated cell blocks throughout the prison compound with his defective distance vision. So he went to the authorities and asked if he could read some of their propaganda. They were delighted. Here was a prisoner, without being tortured, volunteering to read their swill.

But then Doug cautioned them with his: "Small thing [They never learn]; I cannot read without glasses." So they trolled out a dime store clerk who fitted him with glasses by trying one on after the other until Doug said he could see. His near vision was OK. Unbeknownst to the clerk, he was fitting Doug for distance vision, Now, in between sweeps and gas tanks he was able to link up cell blocks not only by sweeping in code but now also using the deaf spelling code.

The Vietnamese were big on token propaganda releases of prisoners to make various peace groups look good and our government look impotent. They would try to pick people who had not been tortured or in jail long enough to look emaciated. Usually they were volunteers, violators of direct orders from their Seniors and traitors to our cause of resistance. These releases always were of three at a time. The magic of the number three was always a mystery to us. As our leaders exercised greater internal communications and controls, it became harder for the Communists to make up a propaganda release party. Seeking to round out the number they finally turned to "The Incredibly Stupid One" who, although not volunteering, was certainly too dumb to do them any harm.

As part of this conditioning they had both Doug and I examined by "the Doctor." This was a female soldier we saw through a peephole we had in the door get briefed up and then dolled up like a physician. The physician made a grand entrance worthy of a world-famous brain surgeon. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the face mask protecting her chin rather than covering her mouth; she really had no ideas what the face mask was for. The exam, after looking in all the holes in your head and listening your heart, consisted of "feeling you up" under the guise of palpitating your internal organs while the translator asked, "The Doctor wants to know if you miss your wife (girlfriend)? Wouldn't you like to be with her now?"

Then they would pull Doug out for interrogations sounding him out for an early release. They told him not to tell me as I was an officer who did not care about his welfare like they did. They informed him: "Stratton would never even speak to you if you were in America." Doug would come back from each go around and immediately tell me everything that was said. One time he plaintively asked: "Beak, you'd speak to me if we're home now, wouldn't you?"

They started to try to fatten us up with large bowls of potatoes laced with canned meat. No one else in the prison was getting it. As a result I told Doug we couldn't take it. We could either not touch it and turn it back in; in which case the guards would eat it. Or we could dump it in the slop bucket so that no one could eat it without getting sick. Doug thought this was a bit on the scrupulous side, but went along with it. I told the Camp Commander that under no condition would I accept an early release even if offered and if they threw me out I'd have to be dragged feet first all the way from Hanoi to Hawaii screaming bloody murder all the way. It was time to cut to the chase. Doug would have to go.

Doug did not want to go. We finally told Doug that as long as he did not have to commit treason, he was to permit himself to be thrown out of the country. He was the most junior. He had the names. He knew firsthand the torture stories behind many of the propaganda pictures and news releases. He knew the locations of many of the prisons. It was a direct order; he had no choice. I know, because I personally relayed that order to him as his immediate senior in the chain of command.

Well throw him out they did. The 256 names he had memorized contained many names that our government did not have. He ended up being sent to Paris by Ross Perot to confront the North Vietnamese Peace Talk Delegation about the fate of the Missing in Action. He entered the Civil Service and is today a Survival School instructor for the U.S. Navy and the James B. Stockdale Survival, Evasion, Resistance, And Escape Center (SERE), naval Air Station, North Island, Coronado, California. And yes, he can still recite those names! You can watch him do it on the Discovery Channel special on Vietnam POWs-Stories of Survival.

A while after Doug had been released, I was called over to an interrogation. It was to be a Soft Soap Fairy kind of gig since there were quality cigarettes, sugared tea in china cups, cookies and candy laid out on the interrogation table. A dapper, handsome Vietnamese, dressed in an expensive, tailored suit and wearing real, spit-shined wingtip shoes, came into the room with a serious look on his face-all business. "Do you know Douglas Hegdahl?" "You know I do." "Hegdahl says that you were tortured." "This is true." "You lie." Rolling up the sleeves to my striped pajamas (prison mess dress uniform), I pointed to the scars on my wrists and elbows and challenged: "Ask your people how these marks got on my body; they certainly are neither birth defects or the result of an aircraft accident." He examined the scars closely, sat back, stared and stated: "You are indeed the most unfortunate of the unfortunate." With that he left the interrogation leaving me with all the goodies. Upon release I compared notes with Doug and we determined that time frame was the same time he accused the Vietnamese in Paris of murdering me [I had not written home once writing became voluntary] for embarrassing them in a Life magazine bowing picture. Thanks to Doug, despite the scars on my body, the Communists had to produce me alive at the end of the war.

"The Incredibly Stupid One," my personal hero, is the archetype of the innovative, resourceful and courageous American Sailor. These sailors are the products of the neighborhoods, churches, schools and families working together to produce individuals blessed with a sense of humor and the gift of freedom who can overcome any kind of odds. These sailors are tremendously loyal and devoted to their units and their leaders in their own private and personal ways. As long as we have the Dougs of this world, our country will retain its freedoms.

Service...

I am sometimes confused when I hear the word "Service" used with these agencies:

Internal Revenue 'Service'
U.S. Postal 'Service'
Telephone 'Service'
Cable TV 'Service'
Civil 'Service'
State, City, County & Public 'Service'
Customer 'Service'
This is not what I thought 'Service' meant.

But today, I overheard two farmers talking, and one of them said he had hired a bull to 'Service' a few cows.

BAM!!! It all came into focus. Now I understand what all those agencies are doing to us.

You are now as enlightened as I am.

I just wish to hell they'd use some lubricant...

The Rest of the Story...

We've all, well most of us, have seen the movie, The Bridges at Toko-Ri. Many people do not know the 'backstory' of what really happened, nor how James Michener came to write the story in the first place...

Here then is the rest of the story, courtesy of one of my former CO's who knew Capt Gray...

I've higlighted a couple of names people might be familiar with...


The Real Story
by Captain Paul N. Gray, USN Ret (USNA '41)

Recently, some friends saw the movie "The Bridges at Toko-Ri" on late night TV. After seeing it, they said, "You planned and led the raid. Why don't you tell us what really happened?" Here goes.

I hope Mr. Michener will forgive the actual version of the raid. His fictionalized account certainly makes more exciting reading. On 12 December 1951 when the raid took place, Air Group 5 was attached to Essex, the flag ship for Task Force 77. We were flying daily strikes against the North Koreans and Chinese. God! It was cold.

The main job was to interdict the flow of supplies coming south from Russia and China. The rules of engagement imposed by political forces in Washington would not allow us to bomb the bridges across the Yalu River where the supplies could easily have been stopped. We had to wait until they were dispersed and hidden in North Korea and then try to stop them.

The Air Group consisted of two jet fighter squadrons flying Banshees and Grumman Panthers plus two prop attack squadrons flying Corsairs and Skyraiders. To provide a base for the squadrons, Essex was stationed 100 miles off the East Coast of Korea during that bitter Winter of 1951 and 1952.

I was CO of VF-54, the Skyraider squadron. VF-54 started with 24 pilots. Seven were killed during the cruise. The reason 30 percent of our pilots were shot down and lost was due to our mission. The targets were usually heavily defended railroad bridges. In addition, we were frequently called in to make low-level runs with rockets and napalm to provide close support for the troops.

Due to the nature of the targets assigned, the attack squadrons seldom flew above 2000 or 3000 feet; and it was a rare flight when a plane did not come back without some damage from AA or ground fire.

The single-engine plane we flew could carry the same bomb load that a B-17 carried in WWII; and after flying the 100 miles from the carrier, we could stay on station for 4 hours and strafe, drop napalm, fire rockets or drop bombs. The Skyraider was the right plane for this war.

On a gray December morning, I was called to the flag bridge. Admiral "Black Jack" Perry, the Carrier Division Commander, told me they had a classified request from UN headquarter to bomb some critical bridges in the central area of the North Korean peninsula. The bridges were a dispersion point for many of the supplies coming down from the North and were vital to the flow of most of the essential supplies. The Admiral asked me to take a look at the targets and see what we could do about taking them out. As I left, the staff intelligence officer handed me the pre-strike photos, the coordinates of the target and said to get on with it. He didn't mention that the bridges were defended by 56 radar-controlled anti-aircraft guns.

That same evening, the Admiral invited the four squadron commanders to his cabin for dinner. James Michener was there. After dinner, the Admiral asked each squadron commander to describe his experiences in flying over North Korea. By this time, all of us were hardened veterans of the war and had some hairy stories to tell about life in the fast lane over North Korea. When it came my time, I described how we bombed the railways and strafed anything else that moved. I described how we had planned for the next day's strike against some vital railway bridges near a village named Toko-Ri (The actual village was named Majonne). That the preparations had been done with extra care because the pre-strike pictures showed the bridges were surrounded by 56 anti-aircraft guns and we knew this strike was not going to be a walk in the park.

All of the pilots scheduled for the raid participated in the planning. A close study of the aerial photos confirmed the 56 guns. Eleven radar sites controlled the guns. They were mainly 37 MM with some five inch heavies. All were positioned to concentrate on the path we would have to fly to hit the bridges. This was a World War II air defense system but still very dangerous.

How were we going to silence those batteries long enough to destroy the bridges? The bridges supported railway tracks about three feet wide. To achieve the needed accuracy, we would have to use glide bombing runs. A glide bombing run is longer and slower than a dive bombing run, and we would be sitting ducks for the AA batteries. We had to get the guns before we bombed the bridges.

There were four strategies discussed to take out the radar sites.

One was to fly in on the deck and strafe the guns and radars. This was discarded because the area was too mountainous. The second was to fly in on the deck and fire rockets into the gun sites. Discarded because the rockets didn't have enough killing power. The third was to come in at a high altitude and drop conventional bombs on the targets. This is what we would normally do, but it was discarded in favor of an insidious modification.

The one we thought would work the best was to come in high and drop bombs fused to explode over the gun and radar sites. To do this, we decided to take 12 planes; 8 Skyraiders and 4 Corsairs. Each plane would carry a 2000 pound bomb with a proximity fuse set to detonate about 50 to 100 feet in the air. We hoped the shrapnel from these huge, ugly bombs going off in mid air would be devastating to the exposed gunners and radar operators.

The flight plan was to fly in at 15,000 feet until over the target area and make a vertical dive bombing run dropping the proximity-fused bombs on the guns and radars. Each pilot had a specific complex to hit.

As we approached the target we started to pick up some flak, but it was high and behind us. At the initial point, we separated and rolled into the dive. Now the flak really became heavy. I rolled in first; and after I released my bomb, I pulled out south of the target area and waited for the rest to join up. One of the Corsairs reported that he had been hit on the way down and had to pull out before dropping his bomb. Three other planes suffered minor flak damage but nothing serious.

After the join up, I detached from the group and flew over the area to see if there was anything still firing. Sure enough there was heavy 37 MM fire from one site, I got out of there in a hurry and called in the reserve Skyraider still circling at 15,000 to hit the remaining gun site. His 2000 pound bomb exploded right over the target and suddenly things became very quiet. The shrapnel from those 2000 lbs. bombs must have been deadly for the crews serving the guns and radars. We never saw another 37 MM burst from any of the 56 guns.

From that moment on, it was just another day at the office. Only sporadic machine gun and small arms fire was encountered. We made repeated glide bombing runs and completely destroyed all the bridges. We even brought gun camera pictures back to prove the bridges were destroyed.

After a final check of the target area, we joined up, inspected our wingmen for damage and headed home. Mr. Michener plus most of the ship's crew watched from Vulture's Row as Dog Fannin, the landing signal officer, brought us back aboard. With all the pilots returning to the ship safe and on time, the Admiral was seen to be dancing with joy on the flag Bridge.

From that moment on, the Admiral had a soft spot in his heart for the attack pilots. I think his fatherly regard for us had a bearing on what happened in port after the raid on Toko-Ri.

The raid on Toko-Ri was exciting; but in our minds, it was dwarfed by the incident that occurred at the end of this tour on the line. The operation was officially named OPERATION PINWHEEL. The pilots called it OPERATION PINHEAD.

The third tour had been particularly savage for VF-54. Five of our pilots had been shot down. Three not recovered. I had been shot down for the third time. The mechanics and ordnance men had worked back-breaking hours under medieval conditions to keep the planes flying, and finally we were headed for Yokosuka for ten days of desperately needed R & R.

As we steamed up the coast of Japan, the Air Group Commander, CDR Marsh Beebe, called CDR Trum, the CO of the Corsair squadron, and me to his office. He told us that the prop squadrons would participate in an exercise dreamed up by the commanding officer of the ship. It had been named OPERATION PINWHEEL.

The Corsairs and Skyraiders were to be tied down on the port side of the flight deck; and upon signal from the bridge, all engines were to be turned up to full power to assist the tugs in pulling the ship along side the dock.

CDR Trum and I both said to Beebe, "You realize that those engines are vital to the survival of all the attack pilots. We fly those single engine planes 300 to 400 miles from the ship over freezing water and over very hostile land. Overstressing these engines is not going to make any of us very happy." Marsh knew the danger; but he said, "The captain of the ship, CAPT. Wheelock, wants this done, so do it!"

As soon as the news of this brilliant scheme hit the ready rooms, the operation was quickly named OPERATION PIN HEAD; and CAPT. Wheelock became known as CAPT. Wheelchock.

On the evening before arriving in port, I talked with CDR Trum and told him, "I don't know what you are going to do, but I am telling my pilots that our lives depend on those engines and do not give them more than half power; and if that engine temperature even begins to rise, cut back to idle." That is what they did.

About an hour after the ship had been secured to the dock, the Air Group Commander screamed over the ships intercom for Gray and Trum to report to his office. When we walked in and saw the pale look on Beebe's face, it was apparent that CAPT. Wheelock, in conjunction with the ship's proctologist, had cut a new aperture in poor old Marsh.
The ship's CO had gone ballistic when he didn't get the full power from the lashed down Corsairs and Skyraiders, and he informed CDR Beebe that his fitness report would reflect this miserable performance of duty.

The Air Group Commander had flown his share of strikes, and it was a shame that he became the focus of the wrath of CAPT. Wheelock for something he had not done. However, tensions were high; and in the heat of the moment, he informed CDR Trum and me that he was placing both of us and all our pilots in hack until further notice. A very severe sentence after 30 days on the line.

The Carrier Division Commander, Rear Admiral "Black Jack" Perry a personally soft and considerate man, but his official character would strike terror into the heart of the most hardened criminal.

He loved to talk to the pilots; and in deference to his drinking days, Admiral Perry would reserve a table in the bar of the Fujia Hotel and would sit there drinking Coca cola while buying drinks for any pilot enjoying R & R in the hotel.

Even though we were not comfortable with this gruff older man, he was a good listener and everyone enjoyed telling the Admiral about his latest escape from death. I realize now he was keeping his finger on the morale of the pilots and how they were standing up to the terror of daily flights over a very hostile land.

The Admiral had been in the hotel about three days; and one night, he said to some of the fighter pilots sitting at his table, "Where are the attack pilots? I have not seen any of them since we arrived."

One of them said, "Admiral, I thought you knew. They were all put in hack by the Air Group Commander and restricted to the ship."

In a voice that could be heard all over the hotel, the Admiral bellowed to his aide, "Get that idiot Beebe on the phone in 5 minutes; and I don't care if you have to use the Shore Patrol, the Army Military Police or the Japanese Police to find him. I want him on the telephone NOW!"

The next morning, after three days in hack, the attack pilots had just finished marching lockstep into the wardroom for breakfast, singing the prisoners song when the word came over the loud speaker for Gray and Trum to report to the Air Group Commander's stateroom immediately,

When we walked in, there sat Marsh looking like he had had a near death experience. He was obviously in far worse condition than when the ships CO got through with him. It was apparent that he had been worked over by a real pro.

In a trembling voice, his only words were, "The hack is lifted. All of you are free to go ashore. There will not be any note of this in your fitness reports. Now get out of here and leave me alone."

Posters saying, "Thank you Black Jack" went up in the ready rooms. The long delayed liberty was at hand.

When writing about this cruise, I must pay homage to the talent we had in the squadrons. LTJG Tom Hayward was a fighter pilot who went on to become the CNO. LTJG Neil Armstrong another fighter pilot became the astronaut who took the first step on the moon. My wingman, Ken Shugart, was an all-American basketball player and later an admiral. Al Masson, another wingman, became the owner of one of New Orleans' most famous French restaurants. All of the squadrons were manned with the best and brightest young men the U.S. could produce. The mechanics and ordnance crews who kept the planes armed and flying deserve as much praise as the pilots for without the effort they expended, working day and night under cold and brutal conditions, no flight would have been flown.

It was a dangerous cruise. I will always consider it an honor to have associated with those young men who served with such bravery and dignity. The officers and men of this air group once again demonstrated what makes America the most outstanding country in the world today. To those whose spirits were taken from them during those grim days and didn't come back, I will always remember you."

You done good...

CPRW-5....the final log entry 30 March 2010

All,
Today I have the honor of hauling down the CPRW-5 pennant for the final time as the 20th and last Commodore. I would be remiss of me if I did not highlight some of the command's history and how it has touched nearly every maritime patrol aviator in our great Navy. From Wing FIVE's origin in 1937 onboard the flagships USS Owl and seaplane-tenders USS Gannet and USS Goldsborough, through transitions ashore to Norfolk, Boca Chica, Patuxent River, and finally Brunswick, Wing FIVE has had one goal: to prepare squadrons to support and defend our national interests both abroad and off our own shores.

Wing Five squadron tail flashes have proudly adorned aircraft nicknamed Catalina, Marlin, Neptune, Orion and most recently, Global Hawk. Wing Five based aircrews have always strived to answer the call of duty, whether it be: Atlantic neutrality patrols; coastal ASW patrols after Pearl Harbor; Gulf Coast Frontier patrols; 38th parallel patrols; Cold War patrols from Keflavic to Rota/Lajes to Bermuda to the Caribbean; Cuban Missile Crisis surveillance patrols; Mercury and Gemini support; Vietnam patrols; Mediterranean patrols; Desert Shield and Storm; Yugoslavia/Kosovo; and finally, Operations Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom. Our squadron mates have operated from the North Pole to the most southern tip of South America...and on any given day, any latitude and longitude between the International Date Line and Greenwich Meridian.


Many of you have fond memories of cutting your teeth on anti-submarine patrols in the local warning areas and flying home marveling at the beautiful Maine coast. There was no better feeling than when driving by Fat Boy's on Old Bath Road, seeing your squadron's tail flash pass overhead on final approach.

On behalf of the last Sailors at CPRW-5, we salute all our squadron mates from units present and past (VP-8, VP-10, VP-11, VP-14, VP-15, VP-21, VP-23, VP-26, VP-44, VP-92, VPU-1, TSC Brunswick, FMP MOCC ALFA, FSU-5, NAVCOMTELDET, NCTAMSLANTDET, ASD and AIMD). The bonds of Sailors serving at Wing Five and in Brunswick, Maine have strongly influenced our maritime community and we hope it will remain an enduring legacy of excellence for many operations and missions to come.


Best wishes to all in the future as we haul down our pennant for the final time. It has been an honor to serve in this capacity and with so many phenomenal people. Fly safe and Godspeed. Wing Five....out. V/r,
Jim

Captain Jim Hoke
Commander, Patrol and Reconnaissance Wing FIVE

Another piece of Naval Aviation history comes to an end... As we continue to downsize the military, and especially our aviation capability, the requirements are NOT decreasing, and in fact are increasing globally...

Sadly, we are at the point that we can no longer fight in two locations at the same time, nor can we maintain what was for us, a persistent coverage around the world as we did in the past.

I can only salute the kids today who are proudly carrying on our tradition of service 24/7/265 with little recognition and less support than at any time since Vietnam.

God Bless, and God Speed...

I'VE BEEN WONDERING...

WHY... do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a diet coke?
WHY... do banks leave both doors open and then chain the pens to the counters?
WHY... do we leave cars worth thousands of dollars in the driveway and put our useless junk in the garage?
WHY... do they have drive-up ATM machines with Braille lettering?
WHY... the sun lightens our hair but darkens our skin?
WHY... women can't put on mascara with their mouth closed?
WHY... don't you ever see the headline 'Psychic Wins Lottery'?
WHY... is 'abbreviated' such a long word?
WHY... is it that doctors call what they do 'practice'?
WHY... is lemon juice made with artificial flavour, and dishwashing liquid made with real lemons?
WHY... is the man who invests all your money called a broker?
WHY... is the time of day with the slowest traffic called rush hour?
WHY... isn't there mouse-flavoured cat food?
WHY... didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes?
WHY... do they sterilize the needle for lethal injections?
WHY... don't they make the whole plane out of that same indestructible stuff black boxes are made out of?
WHY... don't sheep shrink when it rains?
WHY... are they called apartments when they are all stuck together?
WHY... if flying is so safe, do they call the airport the terminal?

WHY... do we park on driveways and drive on parkways?
WHY... ? Good question.

They don't make Ensigns like they used to...

ALL I can say on this one is O.M.G...

Talk about entitlement mentality... sigh... This young officer has managed to step in it with BOTH feet, and is too stupid to even understand what she's done...

Anybody have an opening for an Ensign who use a little professional development?

And no, this is NOT a fake email, I have the actual email string but chose to clean it up to protect the guilty individual.

Go to the bottom and read up to get the sense of the entire string... and how she compounded her error(s)...

Edit#2- Funny update on my blog post- I ran into the RADM who is in charge of the organization the Ensign was going to deign to interview with at the function I was just at. I asked him about it, he was pissed, and said he was going to "personally" interview her but the Flag Sec dumped her back to the detailer... :-D

AND he is going to 'ensure' she gets a 'good' set of orders...

-----Original Message-----
From: XXXX COMNAVAIRFOR
Sent: Monday, April 05, 2010 12:52
To: VARIOUS

Subject: FW: They don't make Ensigns like they used to

This is fantastic. Read from the bottom up to see how to be assigned to an IA as your very first tour in the Navy.

Edit: IA is Individual Augmentee, e.g. shipped to Afganistan or Iraq for a year....

-----Original Message-----
From: LCDR Pers-XX,
To: XXXX NAVXXXX,
Cc: CDR PERS-XX
Subject: RE: ENS XXXX / INTERVIEW

Xxxxx (if I can call you that),

Pardon my french, but holy sh*t. That is a first in my book. I'm not sure whether to laugh, especially because her "professional" email address is princess_mxxxxx - I mean seriously.

If it's ok with you, I'm going to truncate the process here and have her sent elsewhere. I do believe that you guys would be able to do wonders for her etiquette skills and officer demeanor, however she is clearly operating here with a chip on her shoulder very unbecoming of an undesignated, non-prior, O-1 and I think the detailer has some other options she'd like to pursue for ENS XXXX. Please apologize to the Director for us having wasted his time and encumbering his schedule.

Thanks for looking into her case for me, though. I owe you.

V/R,

J.

Edit: You can BET she is NOT going to like the set of orders she gets...

We've closed Adak and Keflavic so she can't be sent there to count landing lights, but they WILL find someplace to stuff her...

-----Original Message-----
From: XXXX NAVXXXX
To: LCDR Pers-XX,
Subject: FW: ENS XXXX / INTERVIEW

FYI J - read from the bottom.

Vrsp
Xxxxx

-----Original Message-----
From: XXXX NAVXXXX
To: princess_mxxxxx
Cc: XXXXX COL NAVXXXX
Subject: RE: ENS XXXX / INTERVIEW

Ensign Xxxxx, I am a 30 year retired CWO4 and know exactly what courtesy's you are due - however, I am a civilian now and consider myself as a people person, always have been. I like to try and make people feel comfortable. If you thought I was inappropriate, say it straight out. Don't beat around the bush.

From now on you can deal directly with the Director, he's a Navy 06. I've info'ed him on this email. In fact, I info'ed him on all my emails which you should have done in your responses. I've also info'ed my Boss, a Marine Colonel 06.


Xxxx

-----Original Message-----
From: princess_mxxxxx
To: XXXX NAVXXXX
Subject: RE: ENS XXXXX / INTERVIEW

Mr. Xxxxx,

I attempted to be subtle in my initial response to you but apparently you didn't catch the hint; from this point foward refer to me as ENS Xxxx. I've rendered you the proper professional courtesy in correspondence and will accept nothing less from you.

In regards to your previous email, dependent upon the time in the late afternoon it may work for me but please give me as narrow a day/time frame that I can expect to be called as possible. If the Director or myself are unable to meet today please let me know when the next possible day will be available.
Thank you.

r/
ENS Xxxx


From: XXXX NAVXXXX
Subject: RE: ENS XXXX / INTERVIEW
To: princess_mxxxxx
Cc: CAPT NAVXXXX


Thanks Xxxxx - the Director is at a Court Martial this week but may be available late in the day - would that work for you?

Vrsp
Xxxx

-----Original Message-----
From: princess_mxxxxx
To: XXXX NAVXXXX
Subject: ENS XXXX / INTERVIEW

Greetings Mr. Xxxxx

This message is in response to your initial email regarding establishing contact with your office to set up an interview. Any day for the remainder of this week is fine for me. I can be reached either via email princess_mxxxxx or by phone (XXX-XXX-XXXX).

r/
ENS XXXX, USN

Shuttle Launch...

First, NO I didn't take the picture...

But I sure as hell wish that I had, I'd at least be at someplace fun!!!

From a friend, the Shuttle Discovery going up over Cinderella's Castle at Disney this morning... The streak is the shuttle during the time delay of the photo. Enjoy!!!

The second shot is the contrail of the shuttle after the wind picked it apart, and the sun is highlighting it...

And we're throwing this and any future capability away.... sigh...

Y'all have a good week, ya hear!!!

Happy Easter...

To each and everyone I wish you a Happy Easter, in its true meaning and may the sunrise be beautiful!

And I wish you plenty of Easter eggs (all found), and Peeps to your heart's content!

The Little Engine That Could...

DID!!!

Butler advances to the Final Four in Indy! Their team philosophy?
"Humility, passion, unity, servanthood and thankfulness."
Not a bad philosophy...

More road pics...

One more from the Museum...

The O-1 that landed on the Midway Apr 30, 1975 with SEVEN people it in... (and yes the crew of the Midway adopted the Vietnamese family that were in the airplane and got them resettled in the U.S. and the kids educated)

Thanks to Jon for catching my error of calling it an OV-1 (which is a Mohawk)... I wuz tired...

And since we were over at Panama City, some food pics... But first, the drawing on the window, whom ever did the 'artwork' isn't bad :-)



The hole in the wall restaurant, it's called Hunt's and it is NOT a tourist trap, but a local restaurant hidden down by the boat yards...

The food... The first of a total of NINE dozen Apalachicola Oysters (3 dozen apiece)... at $4.25 a dozen not a bad price :-) and yes we were FULL when we left!!!