Semper Fi, Corporal

I missed the announcement of the death of Cpl. Conner T. Lowry on 01 March 2012.  I found out after a friend posted to Facebook that she had just driven by his house.  I then saw a number of comments indicating people were lining up on streets in my old neighborhood in Chicago, waiting for the hearse to drive by.  Intrigued, I searched for more on the internet, starting with the official DoD announcement (linked in the title of this blog post).  I found quite a few people tweeting about him (https://twitter.com/#!/search/realtime/conner%20lowry).  As I read some of the linked articles, it really struck home.  I have been thinking about this all day.

They took him from Midway Airport (I almost always fly into Chicago via Midway).

They took him to Brother Rice High School, his alma mater and mine (class of '89 for me).  They played Taps for him there.

They took him to Saint John Fisher Parish on 102nd and Washtenaw, which is only a mile from the first house I lived in (behind Steuber's florist shop).

He was South Side Irish (to know us is to love/hate us).

He died in Helmand, Afghanistan.  I was there twice working with Marines and the ANA in 2011.  The husband of a good friend was in one of the most violent corners of Helmand last year, as was the brother of one of my comrades from the war.

There are so many shared experiences here, yet we never met.

His obituary: http://legacy.suntimes.com/obituaries/chicagosuntimes/obituary.aspx?n=conner-t-lowry&pid=156337797&fhid=2596

Some pictures from the motorcade: http://katieryanphotography.blogspot.com/2012/03/honoring-marine-corporal-conner-lowry.html

The Tribune article: http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/breaking/chi-solemn-procession-for-fallen-marine-20120309,0,2653411.story

A hero left us.  I am sorry I will never get to meet him.  Stand relieved, Marine.  We have the watch now.

Memorial Day 2011

Most of you out there back in the world are probably still thinking of Memorial Day as a 3 day weekend with barbecues and fun. A small percentage of you know what it really means, because you have lost family, friends, lovers or comrades who lost their lives while placing themselves "Between their loved home and the war's desolation". Few know that pain today, when viewed by either absolute numbers or as a percentage of the population. For the most part, I suppose that is all to the good, but it is one more factor that is causing the military and the general population to drift apart. This photo isn't from the front lines, but more from the rear echelon (as in REMF). Still, I think it stands as a vivid reminder of what Memorial Day means. Four flags fly at half mast this week, including our own. We lost eight USAF personnel from our command on one bad day. In honor of them, this year's Memorial Day poem will be "High Flight", by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.:

"High Flight"

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.

Where never lark, or even eagle flew —

And, while with silent lifting mind I have trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Usama Bin Laden Is Dead!

... and the first question that popped into my head, will it hurt any less on the tenth anniversary, knowing UBL was turned into shark shit? I hope so. I hope those who lost someone on that day or in the wars that followed feel something other than the hole where they once family or friends.

A little over three years ago, in response to an picture on Wired's Danger Room titled "Don't you f'ing forget", I wrote about what I was doing on 9/11/01 for the seventh anniversary. Today, I will write about what I was doing on the ninth anniversary. After years of wondering if I would ever be mobilized, I received orders putting me on active duty with the U.S. Navy in Afghanistan. I spent September making final preparations for my 400 days away from home. On the ninth anniversary, I had a reasonably happy day, watching my son and his team (Go Marlins!) play t-ball, knowing I would miss the last several weeks of the season. I tried to learn some Dari (with an iPhone app) and some COIN (from the infamous field manual). I was in the middle of reading Ghost Wars by Steve Coll (the fifth book on Afghanistan I had read since receiving my orders). I worked on our will with my wife. I transitioned what I could to my coworkers. I spent what extra time I could with my kids and my wife and my friends. It was not a bad time, but it was hectic and it went by too fast.

Even though I had nothing to do with the operation against UBL, even though I realize that his death probably means nothing, strategically or tactically, to winning this Overseas Contingency Operation (our new name for "the war"), I find it hard to express in words how proud I am to be serving in the military at this time and how proud I am to be an officer in the United States Navy (can I get a hoo-yah?). Perhaps a quote from another to reflect on my feelings at this time:

"I can imagine no more rewarding a career. And any man who may be asked in this century what he did to make his life worthwhile, I think can respond with a good deal of pride and satisfaction: 'I served in the United States Navy.'"

President John F. Kennedy, 1 August 1963, in Bancroft Hall at the U. S. Naval Academy.

[Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: John F. Kennedy, Containing the Public Messages, Speeches, and Statements of the President, January 1 to November 22, 1963 (Washington: US Government Printing Office, 1964), 620]

To the operators and analysts and support staff that made the raid into Pakistan possible, I salute you (and envy you a bit). You serve in silence in a world rarely seen by the citizens of your country, but on 01 May 2011, you became rock stars. I have full confidence that one day, you will sail home with a broomstick tied to the yardarm. A clean sweep.

To our enemies still at large, rough men, willing to do violence on our behalf, are coming for you. May you die filled with the terror you sought to inflict on others.

I will observe the tenth anniversary of September 11th attacks from Afghanistan. Perhaps I will be able to answer my question then.

Veteran's Day Poem

In keeping with my grim tradition, I give you another poem about war, this one courtesy of Carl Sandburg. Oh, and Happy Birthday to all you Marines out there. Semper Fi.

Grass by Carl Sandburg (1918)

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.

Shovel them under and let me work—

I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg

And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.

Shovel them under and let me work.

Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:

What place is this?

Where are we now?

I am the grass.

Let me work.

Armistice Day aka Veteran's Day

On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918, most of the slaughter in Europe ended for a while. Most of the men and women that lived through that war are gone, so there are few to remember and tell the tales of that time.

Here is a poem from that war that ended fifty three years before I was born. The poet died one week before the armistice.

Dulce et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!–An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

A late Memorial day post

I have decided to start a tradition for this blog. I will post a poem or something each Memorial day for my fallen brothers and sisters. This year's poem is easy. You all know it. Whisper the words along with me if you will. And remember to say you are sorry to your mother for causing her so much worry and grief...

Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
—By John McCrae

Happy Memorial Day 2007.

USMC Rules for Gunfighting

At a friend's request, I have posted the USMC Rules for Gunfighting. May you never need them, but if you do wind up at the OK Corral, these are a good place to start... NOTE: These rules were posted at Military.com. I can't find the original page, so if you have the link, leave it in the comments and I will update the posting...

1. Bring a gun. Preferably, bring at least two guns. Bring all of your friends who have guns.

2. Anything worth shooting is worth shooting twice. Ammo is cheap. Your life is expensive.

3. Only hits count. The only thing worse than a miss is a slow miss.

4. If your shooting stance is good, you're probably not moving fast enough nor using cover correctly.

5. Move away from your attacker. Distance is your friend. (Lateral and diagonal movement are preferred.)

6. If you can choose what to bring to a gunfight, bring a long gun and a friend with a long gun.

7. In ten years nobody will remember the details of caliber, stance, or tactics. They will only remember who lived.

8. If you are not shooting, you should be communicating, reloading, and running.

9. Accuracy is relative: most combat shooting standards will be more dependent on "pucker factor" than the inherent accuracy of the gun.

9.5 Use a gun that works EVERY TIME.

10. Someday someone may kill you with your own gun, but they should have to beat you to death with it because it is empty.

11. Always cheat; always win. The only unfair fight is the one you lose.

12. Have a plan.

13. Have a back-up plan, because the first one won't work.

14. Use cover or concealment as much as possible.

15. Flank your adversary when possible. Protect yours.

16. Don't drop your guard.

17. Always tactical load and threat scan 360 degrees.

18. Watch their hands. Hands kill. (In God we trust. Everyone else, keep your hands where I can see them).

19. Decide to be aggressive ENOUGH, quickly ENOUGH.

20. The faster you finish the fight, the less shot you will get.

21. Be polite. Be professional. But, have a plan to kill everyone you meet.

22. Be courteous to everyone, friendly to no one.

23. Your number one Option for Personal Security is a lifelong commitment to avoidance, deterrence, and de-escalation.

24. Do not attend a gunfight with a handgun, the caliber of which does not start with a ".4"

Send a post card to our troops

It's the winter holiday season, which is a hard time for people to be away from home. It's even harder if you are sitting somewhere in the middle of a war zone, with bombs going off, people trying to kill you, friends getting wounded or killed, etc. Send a post card to one of our troops. It's easy and it's quick. Select other for the message content and type in your own words rather than using the precanned messages on the site. In case the link above is not working, here is the URL again: http://www.letssaythanks.com/