Remembering Sergeant David Kenneth J. Kreuter & the USMC Lima Company

David Krueter is back row far right. I understand that all but one in the above photo died in combat

Death Visits a Marine Unit, Once Called Lucky

Excerpt:

Most of the Marine Reservists from Lima Company were just getting their start in life. But for the young men from Columbus, those lives were changed almost overnight. Their unit was called up in January. In February they were training in California. And by March, the members of Lima Company were part of the 1,000-strong Third Battalion, 25th Marines, Fourth Marine Division - 3/25 in military lingo - and engaged in full-scale war. Their first few weeks in Iraq were so uneventful that the company of about 160 marines took on the name "Lucky Lima."...

Ohio Town Mourns Marines Lost in Iraq

The 14 Marines killed in Iraq Wednesday and the six killed Monday all belonged to the same Ohio-based battalion. The Headquarters & Services Company, 25th Marine Regiment, 3rd battalion is headquartered in Brook Park, Ohio, a suburb of Cleveland. The Wednesday attack, in which a roadside explosive detonated beneath the Marines' amphibious vehicle, is the single most deadly improvised explosive attack on U.S. forces since the war began.

David's Father's words

They all did that, the Men of Lima Company. They carried out their chosen responsibilities to a fuller extent than most men, under conditions that would test any and all to the extreme. They were Marines, they had an incredibly difficult job to do, and they were determined to do it right. I stand in awe of these men, and wonder if I could have done their job so well. ... I think of him every day, many times a day, but seldom with the sharpness this image brings. It represents only a small portion of his years, but the pinnacle of his growth and achievement. Face-to-face, I love him, I miss him, I respect him, I admire him.

More:

• USMC deaths 8/3/2005
• Lima Company Memorial
• Obit page
• Lima Company Facebook page (many photos)

Memorial panel - David Krueter right

Comments: Pause for a bit and read the articles and view the photos. David was the son of two of my high school classmates. I feel their pain and pray for them. My own son has been and will soon again be in harms way.

He fell off the curb

Comment: Click on the image and read the article carefully.

Roger Peet returns from Iraq

Comment: Kathee found the video ... first upload to YouTube.

USMC - No Regrets

SEMPER FI SOCIETY OF ST LOUIS SPEECH BY LTGEN KELLY on 13 NOV 2010

Comment: Received from my nephew who is a former Marine. Read final comment below for the important context.

Nine years ago two of the four commercial aircraft took off from Boston, Newark, and Washington. Took off fully loaded with men, women and children—all innocent, and all soon to die. These aircraft were targeted at the World Trade Towers in New York, the Pentagon, and likely the Capitol in Washington, D.C.. Three found their mark. No American alive old enough to remember will ever forget exactly where they were, exactly what they were doing, and exactly who they were with at the moment they watched the aircraft dive into the World Trade Towers on what was, until then, a beautiful morning in New York City. Within the hour 3,000 blameless human beings would be vaporized, incinerated, or crushed in the most agonizing ways imaginable. The most wretched among them—over 200—driven mad by heat, hopelessness, and utter desperation leapt to their deaths from 1,000 feet above Lower Manhattan. We soon learned hundreds more were murdered at the Pentagon, and in a Pennsylvania farmer’s field.

Once the buildings had collapsed and the immensity of the attack began to register most of us had no idea of what to do, or where to turn. As a nation, we were scared like we had not been scared for generations. Parents hugged their children to gain as much as to give comfort. Strangers embraced in the streets stunned and crying on one another’s shoulders seeking solace, as much as to give it. Instantaneously, American patriotism soared not “as the last refuge” as our national-cynical class would say, but in the darkest times Americans seek refuge in family, and in country, remembering that strong men and women have always stepped forward to protect the nation when the need was dire—and it was so God awful dire that day—and remains so today.

There was, however, a small segment of America that made very different choices that day…actions the rest of America stood in awe of on 9/11 and every day since. The first were our firefighters and police, their ranks decimated that day as they ran towards—not away from—danger and certain death. They were doing what they’d sworn to do—“protect and serve”—and went to their graves having fulfilled their sacred oath. Then there was you Armed Forces, and I know I am a little biased in my opinion here, but the best of them are Marines. Most wearing the Eagle, Globe and Anchor today joined the unbroken ranks of American heroes after that fateful day not for money, or promises of bonuses or travel to exotic liberty ports, but for one reason and one reason alone; because of the terrible assault on our way of life by men they knew must be killed and extremist ideology that must be destroyed. A plastic flag in their car window was not their response to the murderous assault on our country. No, their response was a commitment to protect the nation swearing an oath to their God to do so, to their deaths. When future generations ask why America is still free and the heyday of Al Qaeda and their terrorist allies was counted in days rather than in centuries as the extremists themselves predicted, our hometown heroes—soldiers, sailors, airmen, Coast Guardsmen, and Marines—can say, “because of me and people like me who risked all to protect millions who will never know my name.”

As we sit here right now, we should not lose sight of the fact that America is at risk in a way it has never been before. Our enemy fights for an ideology based on an irrational hatred of who we are. Make no mistake about that no matter what certain elements of the “chattering class” relentlessly churn out. We did not start this fight, and it will not end until the extremists understand that we as a people will never lose our faith or our courage. If they persist, these terrorists and extremists and the nations that provide them sanctuary, they must know they will continue to be tracked down and captured or killed. America’s civilian and military protectors both here at home and overseas have for nearly nine years fought this enemy to a standstill and have never for a second “wondered why.” They know, and are not afraid. Their struggle is your struggle. They hold in disdain those who claim to support them but not the cause that takes their innocence, their limbs, and even their lives. As a democracy—“We the People”—and that by definition is every one of us—sent them away from home and hearth to fight our enemies. We are all responsible. I know it doesn’t apply to those of us here tonight but if anyone thinks you can somehow thank them for their service, and not support the cause for which they fight—America’s survival—then they are lying to themselves and rationalizing away something in their lives, but, more importantly, they are slighting our warriors and mocking their commitment to the nation.

Since this generation’s “day of infamy” the American military has handed our ruthless enemy defeat-after-defeat but it will go on for years, if not decades, before this curse has been eradicated. We have done this by unceasing pursuit day and night into whatever miserable lair Al Qaeda, the Taliban, and their allies, might slither into to lay in wait for future opportunities to strike a blow at freedom. America’s warriors have never lost faith in their mission, or doubted the correctness of their cause. They face dangers everyday that their countrymen safe and comfortable this night cannot imagine. But this has always been the case in all the wars our military have been sent to fight. Not to build empires, or enslave peoples, but to free those held in the grip of tyrants while at the same time protecting our nation, its citizens, and our shared values. And, ladies and gentlemen, think about this, the only territory we as a people have ever asked for from any nation we have fought alongside, or against, since our founding, the entire extent of our overseas empire, as a few hundred acres of land for the 24 American cemeteries scattered around the globe. It is in these cemeteries where 220,000 of our sons and daughters rest in glory for eternity, or are memorialized forever because their earthly remains are lost forever in the deepest depths of the oceans, or never recovered from far flung and nameless battlefields. As a people, we can be proud because billions across the planet today live free, and billions yet unborn will also enjoy the same freedom and a chance at prosperity because America sent its sons and daughters out to fight and die for them, as much as for us.

Yes, we are at war, and are winning, but you wouldn’t know it because successes go unreported, and only when something does go sufficiently or is sufficiently controversial, it is highlighted by the media elite that then sets up the “know it all” chattering class to offer their endless criticism. These self-proclaimed experts always seem to know better---but have never themselves been in the arena. We are at war and like it or not, that is a fact. It is not Bush’s war, and it is not Obama’s war, it is our war and we can’t run away from it. Even if we wanted to surrender, there is no one to surrender to. Our enemy is savage, offers absolutely no quarter, and has a single focus and that is either kill every one of us here at home, or enslave us with a sick form of extremism that serves no God or purpose that decent men and women could ever grasp. St Louis is as much at risk as is New York and Washington, D.C.. Given the opportunity to do another 9/11, our merciless enemy would do it today, tomorrow, and every day thereafter. If, and most in the know predict that it is only a matter of time, he acquires nuclear, chemical, or biological weapons, these extremists will use these weapons of mass murder against us without a moment’s hesitation. These butchers we fight killed more than 3,000 innocents on 9/11. As horrible as that death toll was, consider for a moment that the monsters that organized those strikes against New York and Washington, D.C. killed only 3,000 not because that was enough to make their sick and demented point, but because he couldn’t figure out how to kill 30,000, or 300,000, or 30 million of us that terrible day. I don’t know why they hate us, and I don’t care. We have a saying in the Marine Corps and that is “no better friend, no worse enemy, than a U.S. Marine.” We always hope for the first, friendship, but are certainly more than ready for the second. If its death they want, its death they will get, and the Marines will continue showing them the way to hell if that’s what will make them happy.

Because our America hasn’t been successfully attacked since 9/11 many forget because we want to forget…to move on. As Americans we all dream and hope for peace, but we must be realistic and acknowledge that hope is never an option or course of action when the stakes are so high. Others are less realistic or less committed, or are working their own agendas, and look for way sot blame past presidents or in some other way to rationalize a way out of this war. The problem is our enemy is not willing to let us go. Regardless of how much we wish this nightmare would go away, our enemy will stay forever on the offensive until he hurts us so badly we surrender, or we kill him first. To him, this is not about our friendship with Israel, or about territory, resources, jobs, or economic opportunity in the Middle East. No, it is about us as a people. About our freedom to worship any God we please in any way we want. It is about the worth of every man, and the worth of every woman, and their equality in the eyes of God and the law; of how we live our lives with our families, inside the privacy of our own homes. It’s about the God-given rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness and “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable right.” As Americans we hold these truths to be self-evident. He doesn’t. We love what we have; he despises who we are. Our positions can never be reconciled. He cannot be deterred…only defeated. Compromise is out of the question.

It is a fact that our country today is in a life and death struggle against an evil enemy, but America as a whole is certainly not at war. Not as a country. Not as a people. Today, only a tiny fraction—less than a percent—shoulder the burden of fear and sacrifice, and they shoulder it for the rest of us. Their sons and daughters who serve are men and women of character who continue to believe in this country enough to put life and limb on the line without qualification, and without thought of personal gain, and they serve so that the sons and daughters of the other 99% don’t have to. No big deal, though, as Marines have always been “the first to fight” paying in full the bill that comes with being free…for everyone else.

The comforting news for every American is that our men and women in uniform, and every Marine, is as good today as any in our history. As good as what their heroic, under-appreciated, and largely abandoned fathers and uncles were in Vietnam, and their grandfathers were in Korea and World War II. They have the same steel in their backs and have made their own mark etching forever places like Ramadi, Fallujah, and Baghdad, Iraq, and Helmand and Sagin, Afghanistan that are now part of the legend and stand just as proudly alongside Belleau Wood, Iwo Jima, Inchon, Hue City, Khe Sanh, and Ashau Velley, Vietnam. None of them have every asked what their country could do for them, but always and with their lives asked what they could do for America. While some might think we have produced yet another generation of materialistic, consumeristic and self-absorbed young people, those who serve today have broken the mold and stepped out as real men, and real women, who are already making their own way in life while protecting ours. They know the real strength of a platoon, a battalion, or a country that is not worshiping at the altar of diversity, but in a melting point that stitches and strengthens by a sense of shared history, values, customs, hopes and dreams all of which unifies a people making them stronger, as opposed to an unruly gaggle of “hyphenated” or “multi-cultural individuals.”

And what are they like in combat in this war? Like Marines have been throughout our history. In my three tours in combat as an infantry officer and commanding general, I never saw one of them hesitate, or do anything other than lean into the fire and with no apparent fear of death or injury take the fight to our enemies. As anyone who has ever experienced combat knows, when it starts, when the explosions and tracers are everywhere and the calls for the Corpsman are screamed from the throats of men who know they are dying—when seconds seem like hours and it all becomes slow motion and fast forward at the same time—and the only rational act is to stop, get down, save yourself—they don’t. When no one would call them coward for cowering behind a wall or in a hole, slave to the most basic of all human instincts—survival—none of them do. It doesn’t matter if it’s an IED, a suicide bomber, mortar attack, sniper, fighting in the upstairs room of a house, or all of it at once; they talk, swagger, and, most importantly, fight today in the same way America’s Marines have since the Tun Tavern. They also know whose shoulders they stand on, and they will never shame any Marine living or dead.

We can also take comfort in the fact that these young Americans are not born killers, but are good and decent young men and women who for going on ten years have performed remarkable acts of bravery and selflessness to a cause they have decided is bigger and more important than themselves. Only a few months ago they were delivering your paper, stocking shelves in the local grocery store, worshiping in church on Sunday, or playing hockey on local ice. Like my own two sons who are Marines and have fought in Iraq, and today in Sagin, Afghanistan, they are also the same kids that drove their cars too fast for your liking, and played the God-awful music of their generation too loud, but have no doubt they are the finest of their generation. Like those who went before them in uniform, we owe them everything. We owe them our safety. We owe them our prosperity. We owe them our freedom. We owe them our lives. Any one of them could have done something more self-serving with their lives as the vast majority of their age group elected to do after high school and college, but no, they chose to serve knowing full well a brutal war was in their future. They did not avoid the basic and cherished responsibility of a citizen—the defense of country—they welcomed it. They are the very best this country produces, and have put every one of us ahead of themselves. All are heroes for simply stepping forward, and we as a people owe a debt we can never fully pay. Their legacy will be of selfless valor, the country we live in, the way we live our lives, and the freedoms the rest of their countrymen take for granted.

Over 5,000 have died thus far in this war; 8,000 if you include the innocents murdered on 9/11. They are overwhelmingly working class kids, the children of cops and firefighters, city and factory workers, school teachers and small business owners. With some exceptions they are from families short on stock portfolios and futures, but long on love of country and service to the nation. Just yesterday, too many were lost and a knock on the door late last night brought their families to their knees in a grief that will never-ever go away. Thousands more have suffered wounds since it all started, but like anyone who loses life or limb while serving others—including our firefighters and law enforcement personnel who on 9/11 were the first casualties of this war—they are not victims as they knew what they were about, and were doing what they wanted to do. The chattering class and all those who doubt America’s intentions, and resolve, endeavor to make them and their families out to be victims, but they are wrong. We who have served and are serving refuse their sympathy. Those of us who have lived in the dirt, sweat and struggle of the arena are not victims and will have none of that. Those with less of a sense of service to the nation never understand it when men and women of character step forward to look danger and adversity straight in the eye, refusing to blink, or give ground, even to their own deaths. The protected can’t begin to understand the price paid so they and their families can sleep safe and free at night. No, they are not victims, but are warriors, your warriors, and warriors are never victims regardless of how and where they fall. Death, or fear of death, has no power over them. Their paths are paved by sacrifice, sacrifices they gladly make…for you. They prove themselves everyday on the field of battle…for you. They fight in every corner of the globe…for you. They live to fight…for you, and they never rest because there is always another battle to be won in the defense of America.

I will leave you with a story about the kind of people they are…about the quality of the steel in their backs…about the kind of dedication they bring to our country while they serve in uniform and forever after as veterans. Two years ago when I was the Commander of all U.S. and Iraqi forces, in fact, the 22nd of April 2008, two Marine infantry battalions, 1/9 “The Walking Dead,” and 2/8 were switching out in Ramadi. One battalion in the closing days of their deployment going home very soon, the other just starting its seven-month combat tour. Two Marines, Corporal Jonathan Yale and Lance Corporal Jordan Haerter, 22 and 20 years old respectively, one from each battalion, were assuming the watch together at the entrance gate of an outpost that contained a makeshift barracks housing 50 Marines. The same broken down ramshackle building was also home to 100 Iraqi police, also my men and our allies in the fight against the terrorists in Ramadi, a city until recently the most dangerous city on earth and owned by Al Qaeda. Yale was a dirt poor mixed-race kid from Virginia with a wife and daughter, and a mother and sister who lived with him and he supported as well. He did this on a yearly salary of less than $23,000. Haerter, on the other hand, was a middle class white kid from Long Islaned. They were from two completely different worlds. Had they not joined the Marines they would never have met each other, or understood that multiple America’s exist simultaneously depending on one’s race, education level, economic status, and where you might have been born. But they were Marines, combat Marines, forged in the same crucible of Marine training, and because of this bond they were brothers as close, or closer, than if they were born of the same woman.

The mission orders they received from the sergeant squad leader I am sure went something likfe: “Okay you two clowns, stand this post and let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass.” “You clear?” I am also sure Yale and Haerter then rolled their eyes and said in unison something like: “Yes Sergeant,” with just enough attitude that made the point without saying the words, “No kidding sweetheart, we know what we’re doing.” They then relieved two other Marines on watch and took up their post at the entry control point of Joint Security Station Nasser, in the Sophia section of Ramadi, al Anbar, Iraq.

A few minutes later a large blue truck turned down the alley way—perhaps 60-70 yards in length—and sped its way through the serpentine of concrete jersey walls. The truck stopped just short of where the two were posted and detonated, killing them both catastrophically. Twenty-four brick masonry houses were damaged or destroyed. A mosque 100 yards away collapsed. The truck’s engine came to rest two hundred yards away knocking most of a house down before it stopped. Our explosive experts reckoned the blast was made of 2,000 pounds of explosives. Two died, and because these two young infantrymen didn’t have it in their DNA to run from danger, they saved 150 of their Iraqi and American brothers-in-arms.

When I read the situation report about the incident a few hours after it happened I called the regimental commander for details as something about this struck me as different. Marines dying or being seriously wounded is commonplace in combat. We expect Marines regardless of rank or MOS to stand their ground and do their duty, and even die in the process, if that is what the mission takes. But this just seemed different. The regimental commander had just returned from the site and he agreed, but reported that there were no American witnesses to the event—just Iraqi police. I figured if there was any chance of finding out what actually happened and then to decorate the two Marines to acknowledge their bravery, I’d have to do it as a combat award that requires two eye-witnesses and we figured the bureaucrats back in Washington would never buy Iraqi statements. If it had any chance at all, it had to come under the signature of a general officer.

I traveled to Ramadi the next day and spoke individually to a half-dozen Iraqi police all of whom told the same story. The blue truck turned down into the alley and immediately sped up as it made its way through the serpentine. They all said, “We knew immediately what was going on as soon as the two Marines began firing.” The Iraqi police then related that some of them also fired, and then to a man, ran for safety just prior to the explosion. All survived. Many were injured…some seriously. One of the Iraqis elaborated and with tears welling up said, “They’d run like any normal man would to save his life.” “What he didn’t know until then,” he said, “and what he learned that very instant, was that Marines are not normal.” Choking past the emotion he said, “Sir, in the name of God no sane man would have stood there and done what they did.” “No sane man.” “They saved us all.”

What we didn’t know at the time, and only learned a couple of days later after I wrote a summary and submitted both Yale and Haerter for posthumous Navy Crosses, was that one of our security cameras, damaged initially in the blast, recorded some of the suicide attack. It happened exactly as the Iraqis had described it. It took exactly six seconds from when the truck entered the alley until it detonated.

You can watch the last six seconds of their young lives. Putting myself in their heads I supposed it took about a second for the two Marines to separately come to the same conclusion about what was going on once the truck came into their view at the far end of the alley. Exactly no time to talk it over, or call the sergeant to ask what they should do. Only enough time to take half an instant and think about what the sergeant told them to do only a few minutes before: “…let no unauthorized personnel or vehicles pass.” The two Marines had about five seconds left to live.

It took maybe another two seconds for them to present their weapons, take aim, and open up. By this time the truck was half-way through the barriers and gaining speed the whole time. Here, the recording shows a number of Iraqi police, some of whom had fired their AKs, now scattering like the normal and rational men they were—some running right past the Marines. They had three seconds left to live.

For about two seconds more, the recording shows the Marines’ weapons firing non-stop…the truck’s windshield exploding into shards of glass as their rounds take it apart and tore in to the body of the son-of-a-bitch who is trying to get past them to kill their brothers—American and Iraqi—bedded down in the barracks totally unaware of the fact that their lives at that moment depended entirely on two Marines standing their ground. If they had been aware, they would have know they were safe…because two Marines stood between them and a crazed suicide bomber. The recording shows the truck careening to a stop immediately in front of the two Marines. In all of the instantaneous violence Yale and Haerter never hesitated. By all reports and by the recording, they never stepped back. They never even started to step aside. They never even shifted their weight. With their feet spread should width apart, they leaned into the danger, firing as fast as they could work their weapons. They had only one second left to live.

The truck explodes. The camera goes blank. Two young men go to their God. Six seconds. Not enough time to think about their families, their country, their flag, or about their lives or their deaths, but more than enough time for two very brave young men to do their duty…into eternity. That is the kind of people who are on watch all over the world tonight—for you.

We Marines believe that God gave America the greatest gift he could bestow to man while he lived on this earth—freedom. We also believe he gave us another gift nearly as precious—our soldiers, sailors, airmen, Coast Guardsmen, and Marines—to safeguard that gift and guarantee no force on this earth can every steal it away. It has been my distinct honor to have been with you here today. Rest assured our America, this experiment in democracy started over two centuries ago, will forever remain the “land of the free and home of the brave” so long as we never run out of tough young Americans who are willing to look beyond their own self-interest and comfortable lives, and go into the darkest and most dangerous places on earth to hunt down, and kill, those who would do us harm. God Bless America, and….SEMPER FIDELIS!

Final comment:

Ladies and gentlemen-

For those who haven't seen it yet, this is a very moving speech given by Lieutenant General Kelly -- three days after his son was killed in Afghanistan. He didn't mention his son once, but rather told an amazing story about two young Marines who gave their lives in the face of grave danger to save more than 100 Americans and Iraqis. It's worth your time to read. Here are the two most gripping passages:


One of the Iraqis elaborated and with tears welling up said, "They'd run like any normal man would to save his life." "What he didn't know until then," he said, "and what he learned that very instant, was that Marines are not normal." Choking past the emotion he said, "Sir, in the name of God no sane man would have stood there and done what they did." "No sane man." "They saved us all."


The protected can't begin to understand the price paid so they and their families can sleep safe and free at night. No, they are not victims, but are warriors, your warriors, and warriors are never victims regardless of how and where they fall. Death, or fear of death, has no power over them. Their paths are paved by sacrifice, sacrifices they gladly make...for you. They prove themselves everyday on the field of battle...for you. They fight in every corner of the globe...for you. They live to fight...for you, and they never rest because there is always another battle to be won in the defense of America.


Semper Fi,
Paul


LtCol Paul T. Deutsch
Commandant of the Marine Corps Fellow
Center for a New American Security
1301 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Suite 403
Washington, DC 20004

"With the Old Breed"

Comment: You'll need to click over to the 4BYA site to read these.

God’s comfort on Peleliu

Remembering those who served

"The Pacific"

Comment: History and particularly WW II and USMC history fans would appreciate this series.

No Enchanted Evenings in This Pacific Warfare

Excerpt:

MIDWAY through the first hour of “Band of Brothers,” HBO’s 2001 mini-series about a company of paratroopers during and after D-Day, there’s a scene on a troop ship that’s jampacked with new recruits on their way to hard fighting in the European theater. “Right now some lucky bastard’s headed for the South Pacific,” one soldier says to another, envious. “He’s going to get billeted on some tropical island sitting under a palm tree with six naked native girls helping him cut up coconuts so he can hand-feed them to the flamingos.”

Now comes “The Pacific,” an HBO mini-series by Steven Spielberg, Tom Hanks and the rest of the “Band of Brothers” crew that spends 10 grueling hours and almost $200 million showing just how inaccurate that newbie’s idyllic image was. The series, in one-hour episodes that begin next Sunday, follows three real-life Marines from Pearl Harbor to homecoming after V-J Day. There are no naked native girls or flamingos. Instead there are bloody battles against well-fortified enemies on small islands. There are heroic deaths and random ones; unrelenting rainstorms, tropical diseases, nervous breakdowns.

Mr. Spielberg, who was born in 1946, said the seed that became “The Pacific” was planted in his childhood, when he was confused by the disparity between the formulaic war films he would watch — central hero, romance, defining battlefield moment — and the stories he would hear from his father and an uncle, who both served in the Pacific.

Further comments: Check out With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa

Shot to helmet

U.S. Marine Walks Away From Shot to Helmet in Afghanistan

Excerpt:

Lance Cpl. Koenig, a lanky 21-year-old with jug-handle ears and a burr of sandy hair, is a designated marksman. His job is to hit the elusive Taliban fighters hiding in the tightly packed neighborhood near the base.

The insurgent sniper hit him first. The Casper, Wyo., native was kneeling on the roof of the one-story outpost, looking for targets.

He was reaching back to his left for his rifle when the sniper's round slammed into his helmet.

The impact knocked him onto his back.

"I'm hit," he yelled to his buddy, Lance Cpl. Scott Gabrian, a 21-year-old from St. Louis.

Lance Cpl. Gabrian belly-crawled along the rooftop to his friend's side. He patted Lance Cpl. Koenig's body, looking for wounds.

Then he noticed that the plate that usually secures night-vision goggles to the front of Lance Cpl. Koenig's helmet was missing. In its place was a thumb-deep dent in the hard Kevlar shell.

Lance Cpl. Gabrian slid his hands under his friend's helmet, looking for an entry wound. "You're not bleeding," he assured Lance Cpl. Koenig. "You're going to be OK."

Lance Cpl. Koenig climbed down the metal ladder and walked to the company aid station to see the Navy corpsman.

The only injury: A small, numb red welt on his forehead, just above his right eye.

Comment: 2nd chance at life!

How Marines communicate

Let Me Get Right to the Point

Excerpts:

The Marine Corps values clear, direct, and accurate communication. Senior officers have little tolerance for meandering around your point, and they have zero tolerance for trivial or deceptive nonsense. Junior Marines are similar, except they can perceive this better than most field grade officers. I’ve learned that in civilian life many people want to banter about nothing for about 90 seconds before discussing anything of substance. I don’t necessarily like it, but now I can handle it.

Before learning this I would initiate a conversation with a standard greeting and then jump right into my point. When the information transfer was complete I would say “thanks” and jet off to the next stop on my itinerary. I eventually learned that this offends and confuses many people, which was equally confusing to me, because I thought we were communicating about business, not knitting sweaters.

...

The Marine Corps contributed immensely to my persona: building new qualities, reinforcing some exiting traits, and hammering others into oblivion. I’ll always view it as one of the greatest molding experiences of my life. However, not everybody wants to be a Marine, so perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised when they don’t interact like one.

Comment: For my son (USMC vet - 6 years including service in Iraq - now out of the USMC for 2 years)

War casualities

A U.S. Marine squad was marching north of Fallujah when they came upon an Iraqi terrorist, badly injured and unconscious. On the opposite side of the road was an American Marine in a similar but less serious state.

The Marine was conscious and alert and as first aid was given to both men, the squad leader asked the injured Marine what had happened. The Marine reported, "I was heavily armed and moving north along the highway here, and coming south was a heavily armed insurgent. We saw each other and both took cover in the ditches along the road. I yelled to him that Saddam Hussein was a miserable, lowlife scum bag who got what he deserved, and he yelled back that Ted Kennedy is a fat, good-for-nothing, left wing liberal drunk who doesn't know how to drive, and Obama is an idiot. So I said that Osama Bin Laden dresses and acts like a frigid, mean-spirited lesbian. He retaliated by yelling, "Oh yeah? Well, so does Nancy Pelosi!"

And, there we were, in the middle of the road, shaking hands, when a truck hit us."

Comment: From my Brother in Law, Dave White

"Gunny" Ermey finds bag of cash

History Channel host finds bag of cash

Excerpt:

Actor R. Lee Ermey is living up to the Marine Corps' mantra: "A Few Good Men."

The former Marine drill instructor and host of The History Channel's "Mail Call" was in Missoula on Monday to film a segment for his upcoming series "Locked and Loaded" when he said he found some cash. A lot of cash.

Ermey, best known for playing the drill instructor in Stanley Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket," said he was driving with crew member Harlan Glenn to a museum when he spotted a black object on the road.

Ermey stopped the car and picked up the bag, which contained cash and checks that looked like they were meant for deposit in a Native American fund.

"Just on one deposit slip alone was, like, $3,700, and another one for $2,800," Glenn said. "There was easily $8,000 in cash and the rest in checks."

Ermey told the Missoulian newspaper he thought: "Some poor guy right now is probably getting fired, probably having the worst day of his life. So what we did was we went right down to the Wells Fargo bank and deposited it for him."

Don Luke, a business expert at the Wells Fargo branch, said he was surprised to see "The Gunny" stroll in.

Comment: Another USMC hero!

Decorated USMC Vietnam vet dies on Flight 3407

Fifty Varied Lives, Ended on a Cold, Foggy Night

Excerpts:

Clay Yarber was on Continental Connection Flight 3407, a decorated Marine who had twice survived helicopter crashes in Vietnam but was left with a fear of flying so deep he often preferred to drive, even cross country. But Thursday, Mr. Yarber, 62, had boarded a flight from California, connecting through Newark, to visit a friend in the Buffalo area.

...
He had received two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star for his service in Vietnam.

“He was a really great father,” said Michele Keratsis, his last wife.

She said that around the time of the Tet offensive in 1968, Mr. Yarber was twice in helicopters that were shot down, but that in each instance he basically walked away from the crash.

“That is one of the bitter ironies of all this for us,” she said. “He was not happy to get on a plane at anytime.”

A stepson, Richard Curtis, said he was so inspired by Mr. Yarber he joined the Marine Corps, following in his footsteps. “He raised me after my father was killed by a drunk driver when I was 13,” Mr. Curtis said. “I called him Dad.”

Comment: The opposite of the soft landing on the Hudson

Putting the Iraq war in perspective

Marine motorcycle deaths top their Iraq combat fatalities

Excerpt:

Motorcycle accidents have killed more Marines in the past 12 months than enemy fire in Iraq, a rate that's so alarming, it has prompted top brass to call a meeting to address the issue, officials say.

Twenty-five Marines have died in motorcycle crashes since November -- all but one of them involving sport bikes that can reach speeds of well over 100 mph, according to Marine officials. In that same period, 20 Marines have been killed in action in Iraq.

The 25 deaths are the highest motorcycle death toll ever for the Marine Corps.

Gen. James Amos, the assistant commandant of the Marine Corps, told CNN that commanders are trying to drill down on what "we need to do to help our Marines survive on these sport bikes."

Comment: Recommended to me by my son, who served in the USMC for 6 years including 1 tour in Iraq. From Roger, "I think this puts the war in Iraq into perspective."

USMC Vietnam hero dies

Col. John W. Ripley, Marine Who Halted Vietnamese Attack, Dies at 69

Excerpt:

Colonel Ripley, who at the time was a captain and a military adviser to a South Vietnamese Marine unit, blew up the southern end of the Dong Ha Bridge over the Cua Viet River on Easter Sunday, April 2, 1972. On the north side of the bridge, which was several miles south of the demilitarized zone, some 20,000 North Vietnamese troops and 200 tanks were poised to sweep into Quang Tri Province, which was sparsely defended.

Going back and forth for three hours while under fire, Captain Ripley swung hand over hand along the steel I-beams beneath the bridge, securing himself between girders and placing crates holding a total of 500 pounds of TNT in a diagonal line from one side of the structure to the other. The I-beam wings were just wide enough to form pathways along which he could slide the boxes.

When the boxes were in place on the bridge, Captain Ripley attached blasting caps to detonate the TNT, then connected them with a timed-fuse cord that eventually extended hundreds of feet.

“He had to bite down on the blasting caps to attach them to the fuses,” John Grider Miller, author of “The Bridge at Dong Ha,” said on Monday. “If he bit too low on the blasting cap, it could come loose; if he bit too high, it could blow his head apart.”

Captain Ripley bit safely, and the timed-fuse cord gave him about half an hour to clamber off the bridge. Moments later, his work paid off with a shock wave that tossed him into the air but otherwise left him unharmed.

By placing the crates diagonally along the bridge, Mr. Miller said, Captain Ripley had created “a twisting motion that ripped the bridge apart from its moorings so it couldn’t fall back in place, but collapsed into the river.”

There were about 600 South Vietnamese marines near the south end of the bridge. “South Vietnam would have been in big trouble,” said Fred Schultz, senior editor of Naval History Magazine, a publication of the United States Naval Institute. “The force numbers defending on that side could not have held against that North Vietnamese force.”

The destruction of the bridge created a bottleneck for the North Vietnamese, allowing American bombers to blunt what became known as the Easter offensive.

Captain Ripley was awarded the Navy Cross for his actions at the bridge. He served two tours in Vietnam and remained on active duty until 1992, eventually rising to colonel. Among other decorations, he received the Silver Star, two Bronze Stars and a Purple Heart.

Comment: Image from Wiki: John Ripley (USMC) (Detail of a diorama at the U.S. Naval Academy showing Capt Ripley hanging from bridge at Dong-Ha). Worth remembering those who lived "ask what you can do for your country". More below:

The Easter Offensive and the bridge at Dong Ha

With some cover fire provided by the men of the Third Marine Battalion and aided by U.S. Army Maj. John Smock, Capt. John Ripley accomplished what was not possible: He went out and blew up the bridge.

There is no sports analogy for what Ripley did. It was not like running a three minute mile, bench pressing 700 pounds, or pulling out a come-from-behind Super Bowl upset victory. There were no adoring crowds. What Ripley did was simply impossible. Had he failed while attempting to do it, his peers would have only thought him noble and brave for trying.

The significance of the timely destruction of the bridge at Dong Ha cannot be overstated – both in terms of Ripley's personal heroism and the impact it had on the entire communist offensive. Those who ponder alternative history could easily argue that had the NVA been able to secure the bridge and the town at that time, the unfortunate end of the Republic of Vietnam on April 30, 1975, might have been markedly speeded up.

Built by U.S. Navy Seabees in 1967, the bridge was a 200-meter concrete and steel leviathan. Its destruction required deliberate planning, intellect and guts. Mostly guts. Ripley would provide all three as he needed to distribute 500 pounds of dynamite on the structure's underside.

Making a dozen-odd trips between the southern bank of the river and the belly of the bridge, each time he shuttled roughly 40 pounds of explosives as he swung, hand-over-hand, out to the various spans and stringers, all the while exposed to enemy fire from the northern side. Placement of the dynamite and requisite wiring took more than two hours.

With the rigging complete, and without fanfare, Smock and Ripley blew the bridge. (For a superbly chronicled read of the entire action, see "The Bridge at Dong Ha" by Ripley friend and fellow covan U.S. Marine Corps Col. John Miller. For the view from the senior adviser who effectively ran the entire show during this period of the war, pick up Col. Gerry Turley's compellingly honest and painstakingly fair "The Easter Offensive." Both available at the U.S. Naval Institute or the Marine Corps Association.)

Ripley's performance that day continues to fascinate. These were not the deeds of a regular man. His bravery was not some gut reaction or counterpunch to a blow struck by an enemy. His actions in that three-hour window – with the world collapsing around him – were deliberate, willful, premeditated. Every ounce of his spiritual and physical fiber was focused on mission accomplishment. Anything less and he surely would have failed. Exhausted prior to the start, when he was finished he was way past empty.

With the bridge's destruction, the communist offensive was blunted but the fighting continued. Always seeming to draw tough assignments, the Third Marine Battalion – known as the Soi Bien or "Wolves of the Sea" – was a storied unit within the Vietnamese Marine Corps. While John Ripley's actions on Easter Sunday of 1972 would make him a legend among his brother covans and professional contemporaries, he was at least evenly matched with the man who led the Soi Bien.

Major Le Ba Binh was a Marine's Marine. He was to the Vietnamese Marine Corps, in its by-then 18-year history, what Chesty Puller, Dan Daly and Pappy Boyington combined were to the by then 196-year history of the U.S. Marine Corps. About the same age as his trusted friend John Ripley, Binh had even served as a student at The Basic School in Quantico where all American Marine lieutenants are schooled in the warrior arts. Wounded at least a dozen times, he had already been decorated for valor on seven separate occasions when the Easter Offensive began.

Binh was the consummate combat leader. Always out front where the action was heaviest, he was revered by his men and would endure any burden to defeat the hated communists. With the world crumbling around his Marines and the generally poor showing being put forth by most ARVN units in Military Region 1, he intended to follow the orders he received – to hold at all costs.

The battles in and around Dong Ha were only part of the much larger communist offensive. While many other ARVN units initially collapsed under NVA pressure, the various battalions of the Vietnamese Marine Corps, along with their covans, fought with tenacity and gave ground grudgingly.

Facing an entire 20,000 man division with an estimated 200 tanks, the 700-plus men of the Third Marine Battalion held Dong Ha for four days, until they too were completely surrounded and were forced to make a fighting withdrawal from the area. Less than a month later, as those who remained stood in formation to be addressed by their commandant at the regional headquarters in Hue, Maj. Binh would muster only 52 survivors. The two companies which had provided Ripley with cover fire while he and Major Smock destroyed the bridge, and then remained in place to battle the NVA armor and infantry, had been wiped out to the last man.

Berkeley caves to USMC

Berkeley City Council moderates anti-Marine position

Excerpt:

In a 7-to-2 vote, the council said it would no longer send a letter to the local Marine Corps Recruiting Station and Marine Corps Commandant Gen. James Conway saying recruiters aren't welcome in Berkeley.

Instead, the city is now simply stating it's opposed to the war and the billions spent on it. However, "we recognize the recruiter's right to locate in our city and the right of others to protest or support their presence," the council said.

The council also said it supports and respects the men and women of the armed forces.

Comment: They caved because of the fear of losing federal $$.

Berkeley to Marines: Get out!

Berkeley to Marines: You're 'not welcome in our city'

Excerpt:

Republican lawmakers in Washington fired back this week, threatening to take back more than $2 million of federal funding to the city as well as money designated for the University of California-Berkeley, the campus that became a haven of protests during the Vietnam War.

The battle erupted after the Berkeley City Council approved a measure last week urging the Marine recruiters to leave their downtown office.

"If recruiters choose to stay, they do so as uninvited and unwelcome intruders," the item says.

It goes on to say the council applauds residents and organizations that "volunteer to impede, passively or actively, by nonviolent means, the work of any military recruiting office located in the City of Berkeley."


Comment: Code Pink press release. I think the Marines ought to Fallujah Code Pink!

POW Mind Games

Mind Games: Jim Warner and Fellow POWs Played for Big Stakes in North Vietnamese Prisons


Comment: HT: Touchstone: Endless Mindgames. Excellent read!

Presidential intervention for age exception!

Guidance from his sons: Truckee physician commits to combat after eldest son is killed in Iraq

Excerpt:

Now Krissoff's Truckee office is shuttered. His wife has come to terms with his nearing departure. All that is left for Krissoff, a 61-year-old orthopedic surgeon, is to head to Iraq where young Marines, broken from battle, will be tended by his experienced hands.

Marine 1st Lt. Nathan Krissoff's death, only a year past, galvanized his father's determination to go to war as a healer.

At a time when most successful doctors his age are settling into retirement, the fit surgeon is making one of the most monumental decisions of his life and heading to war.

In his sixth decade, Krissoff, who could pass for 41, squares his chin and with large eyes looking at a point in the distance, proudly speaks of his son.

Fathers usually inspire sons into action, to achieve life goals. But in this family that relationship was turned upside down when Dr. Krissoff received news of his older son's death.

Nathan Krissoff died on Dec. 9, 2006, in Al Anbar province. He was 25.

Now the fallen Marine's father is committed to a mission, one that carries even more than the memory of Nathan. Krissoff's youngest son, Austin, is also an officer in the Corps.

"Both my sons were hugely affected by the events of 9/11, and Nate was proud to serve in the Marines, as Austin is," Krissoff says. "I share their views."

So he is closing his Truckee practice, leaving his Reno home, relocating to San Diego and taking on a brand new persona, that of Navy Lt. Commander .

Though 19 years over the Navy's official age limit, Dr. Krissoff will serve as a Navy surgeon for three years.

"My interest in Navy medicine," Krissoff says, "was because they take care of Marines."

Dr. Anthony Zissimos, a colleague and friend of Krissoff, says Nate's death changed the Krissoff family forever.

"Bill would probably say that his sons showed him the light," Zissimos says. "He is really going to another form of service."

And why not be of service to the nation, Krissoff asks.

"We have a generation that thinks it is someone else's responsibility. I encourage more older people to serve," Krissoff says from his neat wooden desk on one of the last days he will spend in the Truckee practice he built over 28 years.

"He is an excellent surgeon," says colleague Dr. John Foley. "Bill was doing sports medicine before sports medicine became nouveau. Before there was an Academy of Sports Medicine."



Physically fit

The sexagenarian says he's not worried about the physical duties of being a Navy doctor. He swims a mile a day, and while not kayaking or skiing, he works out in the gym. Krissoff is not slowing down at an age when many of his peers may be thinking about retiring.

"It is more common than you would think," says Krissoff's Navy recruitment officer, Lt. Commander Ken Hopkins. "They reach the top of their professional career and they are looking for a new challenge. And they have a desire to serve."

Krissoff, who has a series of military classes to complete before he can serve on active duty, may work in a Forward Resuscitative Surgical System or FRSS, according to Navy Bureau of Medicine spokesman Guy Schein.

"Dr. Krissoff is coming in as a reserve officer on a Navy medical tour, and I understand he will be deploying in Iraq sometime next year," Schein says.

Richard Kyle, a spokesman for the American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons, says the type of injuries that Krissoff will likely see are mostly from bomb blasts and gunshots requiring quick stabilization of patients. Although drastically different from ski and sports injuries, the wounds he will tend to are well-suited to the orthopedic profession.

Krissoff, who worked as an emergency room doctor early in his career, says he's confident he will be able to deal with what comes across his operating table.

"I'm kind of going back to my roots," he says.

Because 42 is the Navy's age cutoff for medical officer enlistees, Krissoff was initially told that joining would be a difficult and lengthy process. So he pressed the issue and asked for the needed waiver from the highest authority he could find - President Bush.

Krissoff met Bush in August at an American Legion convention in Reno. The doctor described the personal meeting he had with the president immediately following the convention as a solemn experience with a small group of families grappling with the loss of loved ones in war.

Krissoff says Bush asked each family what he could do for them.

Krissoff told the president he wanted to serve.

After a brief moment, Bush deferred to Krissoff's wife, Christine, who has consistently supported her husband's decision. Krissoff says he pressed Bush about the matter with humor.

"'Sir, I'd like to serve but they told me I'm too old, but I'm younger than you, sir,'" Krissoff says, telling the story with a rare grin.


Comment: See Recon Marines Honor Fallen Officer and Remembering a Hero

Pushup motivation

Defendant does push-ups in court; charges against him dropped

A defendant dropped down and performed 50 push-ups in court Friday, and a prosecutor dropped the charges against him.

The dismissal of Chase C. Allen's misdemeanor trespassing and disorderly conduct charges apparently helped smooth the way for the 20-year-old Marine recruit to report to boot camp.

The unusual resolution during a morning session in Marion Superior Court prompted applause from the gallery, Judge Barbara Collins said later.

But the judge was quick to point out that she had taken no part in the informal deal.
"It was an agreement between the prosecutor and the defendant," Collins said.
In Allen's case, she said, she simply accepted the dismissal form submitted to her by Deputy Prosecutor Daniel Cavallini.

Observers said a uniformed Marine recruiter attended the hearing and gave Allen encouragement while he was doing the push-ups. Allen made it one or two push-ups past 50, they said.

A toast to my son, Roger

Peggy Noonan: A toast to American troops, then and now

Excerpt:

A funny thing. We're so used to thinking of American troops as good guys that we forget: They're good guys! They have American class.
----
Whatever is decided in Washington I hope our soldiers know what we really think of them, and what millions in Iraq must, also. I hope some day they get some earned tenderness, and wind up over the hills of Iraq, and land, and an old guy comes out and says, "Are you an American?" And they say yes and he says, "A toast, to old times."

Comment: Roger exited the USMC Reserves today after 75 months of service.

1. I remember the day he enlisted. He did it without asking my advice, but by telling me (the day before) "tomorrow I am enlisting in the Marines".
   
2. I tried to dissuade him. I asked him to consider the Air Force or the Navy. But he was adamant about joining the Marines.
   
3. On the Tuesday after Memorial Day 2001, he left for San Diego for boot camp. I wrote to him almost every day. He came back from boot camp with many of my letters unopened - he was just so busy that he could not read letters every day! (He since opened and read them.
   
4. On 9/11 he was in combat training at Camp Pendleton, California. He happened to cut himself that day and had to be seen by a Navy medic! He was told then about the events of 911.
   
5. One might think - "oh a reservist! How hard could that be?". Roger was on active duty for over 2 1/2 years of his six years in the Marines. He was a freshman at St Cloud State when the Iraqi war commenced. He was called up and sent to Cherry Point for a year. Back to St Cloud for another semester. Then he volunteered (on July 5th, 2004) to go to Iraq with another unit. He was again activated for another year and spent 7 months in Iraq.
   
6. Leaving the Marines is tough for Roger. He aspires to get his bachelor's degree in Economics. He also works full time at Wells Fargo. He knows he cannot do all three: work, school, and the reserves. And so he made the difficult decision to not re-enlist!
   

My Son is one of those "good guys" with "American class". He is a true patriot who loves his country enough to serve it. He has a unique combination of toughness and gentleness. He is more of a man than I ever was. I admire him and I salute him! Thank you Roger for your service to our country!