An act of passiveness...

It seems contradictory that doing nothing can be considered an action, yet it is happening today, and every day...Like the familiar anecdotal elephant in the room, of which everyone is aware and no one dares mention, radical Islamic jihadists, in their all-consuming envy of all things superior to their closed-minded beliefs, choose to solve their problems not with construction to lift their misguided followers, but rather destruction to reduce all around them to their own level...

In the scientific world, Islam, like all religions, is a theory, or at best a belief upon which adherents base their day-to-day behavior, and their hope for their individual futures...The conflict occurs when a minority of believers comes to the conclusion that their own future destiny cannot be assured to their liking if even one soul continues to exist with a contrary creed...

Members of that unhappy minority, being by nature cowards unable to face opposition alone, seek out others of like faith, or failing that, start trolling the waters for weaker minds who might be coerced into entering their unholy alliance...Throwing out the chum of seething hatred and fear for those whom they see as owning unearned happiness, they drag their nets in search of pliable souls eager to blindly follow a murderous path to a false destination...

As with most of history's wars, the jihadists in their ambush of civilization, have taken advantage by striking the first blows, and drawing first blood...With motives unclear to traditional thinkers, the self-declared holy warriors have taken the early edge with broad-based surprise attacks on the mostly unsuspecting, unprepared and unarmed masses...

They further compound their leverage in their knowledge that an opposing world, made comfortable in the security of their military might, and grown soft and reluctant to use force against noncombatants, hesitates to strike back with overwhelming force when its cowardly enemy hides behind the women, children and elderly of trembling communities barely out of the bronze age...Using the innate fear found in docile, backward people, islamo-hoodlums commit their atrocities with seeming impunity, secure in their belief that a civilized world will not attack them as long as they hide behind their human shields...

In the words of General Chuck Yeager, "By definition, war is immoral; there is no such thing as a clean war. Once armies are engaged, war is total."...In context, Yeager referred to the atrocities often associated with war which often results in as many civilian victims as there are military casualties...

The civilians held hostage by the delusive Mohammedites which have entered their midst are caught in a web, not only of fear for their lives if they should cross the invaders, but fear that opposing the perversion of their own religion might deny them a desired afterlife...And yet it has become clear that the only way to restore peace is to destroy the usurpers of their faith, whether it is done by them, or for them...

Even clearer is the vision of the result of this cleansing as the dissenters among the beset-upon civilians know that battling the deviant practitioners of their faith must result in their total removal to the last man, and may result in incalculable numbers of deaths among the innocents...They also know that having the war fought for them will likely result in a far greater death toll because of the western world's access to weapons capable of reducing entire nations to smoldering craters...

On the other side of the world, others look for a way out of this horrifying scenario, remembering the lessons of less than a century ago when a nation had its chance to rid itself of evildoers, and instead chose compliance and appeasement in the hope the atrocities would simply melt away...Their choice of taking no action resulted in worldwide conflict at the cost of the lives of millions, when the deaths of far fewer could have prevented it...

As the controversy draws to a seemingly inevitable clash, individuals, families and groups find themselves facing the choice of assigning final importance to only one of two allegiances: religion or country...One being intangible and yet encompassing not only life, but afterlife; the other representing all they've ever seen or heard their entire lives, and for which brave people died so that they might carry the torch forward...

At least at this point, it is a choice...At a later point, it may be an irreversible conclusion...The two alternatives seem on the surface to be narrowly connected, but once a collective decision is made, events may place former close allies on opposing ends of a wide moral chasm, similar to the choice faced by Americans in the mid-19th century...

The impending decision centers on whether a broad-based religious belief, already divided into sectarian splinter groups, is capable of cutting out its own cancerous organs, allowing it to co-exist with other dogmas, or if it is willing to allow others to perform the operation who, being unfamiliar with the anatomy, simply remove everything that looks like it could be a problem...In the latter case, the operation may be a success even though the patient dies...

It all seems to come to a choice between who lives, and who doesn't; them or us, with them bringing swords to fight a nuclear war...The choice narrows with each dawning day...

More articles concerning World Events...

More articles concerning Religion...

Wish I still had that one...

Well yes, there are a lot of things I wish I still had, but right now I'm thinking about all the cars and trucks I ever owned...So I thought I might try to list them here...I may not have the exact chronological order correct, but it will be close...

The first two weren't mine, but I did learn to drive in them...A 1954 Buick Special 4-door sedan was my Dad's company car that he bought when the company assigned him a new one...It was rock solid just as you might expect from a mid-fifties GM product...I remember at 264 CID it had one cubic inch less than the popular Chevy V-8 of the time, and it was called a "nailhead" engine because the tiny valves looked more like ten-penny nails...

The old cast iron Dynaflow transmission featured a rear oil pump which you won't find in modern gearboxes...It allowed the clutch packs to stay engaged while the engine was not running if the car was rolling, which meant it could even be push-started...It also meant that if you turned off the ignition while rolling downhill still in Drive in an attempt to save fuel, it could backfire through the two-barrel carburetor causing a young driver to become instantly alert...I won't explain how I gained that knowledge, but in today's technology it might activate the "Check Underwear" light...

Driving suddenly became fun when my uncle tossed me the key to his 1955 VW one day, and said to go take a drive and learn how to shift a four-speed...For a kid with a license that didn't even have dry ink yet, this was the ultimate confidence builder, and he was a master mechanic who could fix anything I could screw up anyway...To my relief, I never wrecked it or broke it, and my love affair with manual transmissions began that day...

To my parent's regret, I spent most of my savings on a white over black 1955 Chevy BelAir two door hardtop with a 235 CID six-cylinder and Powerglide...Naturally, being afflicted with a terminal case of the high school stupids, I tried to turn it into something it could never be, a hot rod...It was eventually sold for scrap...I should have kept it the same way I bought it from the little old lady schoolteacher...

In my senior year in HS I drove a showroom-new 1965 Corvair home, and proceeded to make a liar out of Ralph Nader by not killing myself in it...I made the payments and bought the gas from my after school job as a door-to-door Fuller Brush man...In Regal Red, with the 110 HP engine, four-speed on the floor, 3.55:1 gearing and 6.50X13 tires, it was a pretty good car for a high school kid...I sold it when I enlisted in the USAF, and got my first lesson in depreciation...

When I got to my first permanent base in Germany, I bought a 1952 VW from a GI who was rotating back to the States...After a few months the engine cratered, and with it's other problems, I decided to just junk it...

Next came a 1956 VW (there was only one model in those years, the Beetle), and I kept it a while driving it over the Swiss Alps, down as far as Naples, Italy and on to Monaco to watch the Gran Prix in 1968...There were of course several weekend trips to Holland, Luxembourg and Belgium, as well as all over West Germany...It was black, and I added a pair of red leather Porsche seats which barely cleared the four-speed shifter...It had no fuel gauge, but when it ran out of gas, all I did was move the lever, and the reserve gallon dumped into the nine-gallon tank...The trick was to remember to move the lever back when you filled up, otherwise the reserve wouldn't be there when you needed it...

I sold it but later bought a 1956 Opel just so I wouldn't have to walk to the bars downtown when I went off base...Those last two were bought on the partner plan with pooled money which worked out well since he and I usually went to the same places together...

Returning stateside, I bought a 1966 Chevelle two-door hardtop with 283 and three on the column, and drove it to my final base in New Mexico...I wrecked it before separation, and the Chevy dealer installed an unvented fuel tank reusing my unvented gas cap...This problem didn't show up until I was on my way home in the West Texas sun when the engine quit from fuel starvation...

After a while it would restart only to do it again down the road...A fellow in the next town was smart enough to figure out the problem and fix it by drilling a small hole in the filler cap to relieve the vacuum...It ran fine then except the fuel capacity was reduced by five gallons due to the collapsed tank...

After a couple of years in civilian life I fell in love with a 1969 Plymouth Roadrunner, complete with 383 engine, four-speed and Sure-Grip differential, one of the fastest cars I ever owned...Mag wheels and big tires made it perfect...

Then after marrying the first time, I was reduced to average grocery-getters, a 1964 Plymouth (no model designation, just Plymouth) with slant six and three on the column, then a 1965 Chevelle four-door station wagon with 283 and three-speed on the floor plus overdrive...

Following the inevitable divorce, my Dad found me a cherry 1971 Chevy C-10 longbed...With a 350, TH350 transmission, P/S and P/B, it was not only my first truck, but my first vehicle with factory A/C...With a few personal touches such as chrome wheels, giant tires and a Koenig tool box it was a great truck...

Next came a bone-stock 1958 Chevy DelRay two-door sedan in white over red with original 283 and three on the column...After the addition of mag wheels and white-letter Goodyears, I rebuilt the front end and replaced all springs and shocks...A Holley four barrel, headers and duals completed it...

Somewhere in this period I acquired a 1973 Pontiac LeMans two-door sedan...These were the years of the "corporate GM engines" and this one had a 350 Olds/TH350 trans combo...Naturally wheels, tires, headers and duals were de rigueur...

I decided I needed a truck again in addition to a sporty car so out came my checkbook for a brand new 1985 Chevy C-10 shortbed in black with 305/Auto...Even with wheels/tires and bed cover I was not completely happy, so in a few years, I traded for a 1990 Chevy 454 SS, which I eventually sold to my favorite niece...

At some point in this whirlwind of time and tire smoke, I decided I liked the look of the late seventies two door Impala with the three piece rear glass...I bought a 1977 model with 350/TH200...I added bucket seats from a 1978 Monte Carlo which matched the upholstery and a floor shifter...Then came the Edelbrock manifold, Holley four barrel, headers and duals...And of course the chrome Cragar S/S wheels and white letter Goodyears...I really enjoyed that car...

Then came the romping, stomping beast, the 1978 Buick Regal which someone had replaced the original V-6 with a 455 CID Olds monster...It barely fit under the hood, and I never found headers that would work with it...But it did get dual exhaust and big tires/wheels of course...My SnapOn tool dealer found he couldn't live without it, so a tool/car trade was arranged...

At this time, Chevrolet had reintroduced the Impala Super Sport, so I bought a brand new 1995, and as you guessed replaced the wheels and added a true dual 2 1/2 inch exhaust...

By this time, I had also acquired a 3/4 ton 1973 Chevy pickup with camper top, 350 V-8 and granny gear four speed...It had a 2X12 oak front bumper, dents, faded baby-puke yellow paint and the coldest A/C in Texas...After adding headers, duals, white spoke wheels and 10-ply 9.50X16.5 tires, it became my favorite truck to date...

At this point, the timeline grows a bit fuzzy as I made a serious error in judgment, choosing to marry a woman who could not be satisfied with anything she acquired, including husbands...Her vehicle list during our marriage included a 2000 Impala, 1976 Blazer, 2003 Buick Regal, 2003 Pontiac Montana, 2006 Honda Odyssey and a 2001 GMC Sierra...

At the same time, she managed to talk me into selling my beloved 1973 Chevy C-20, and buying a black 1998 Chevy K-20 crewcab...And then a black 2000 Ford diesel crewcab...

Finally, I realized what was missing, the standard transmission...Then I traded for a new 2003 Dodge D3500 4WD dually quadcab, with Cummins diesel and six-speed transmission...After 13 years and one divorce, I'm still driving it today with no intention of ever replacing it...Naturally, I had to add front and rear Tough Country bumpers, headache rack, running boards, Warn 15K winch, gauges, Smarty programmer, Weatherguard toolbox, Line-X bedliner, chrome exhaust stacks, XM radio and 19.5" Rickson wheels and Michelin tires...Other than that it's stock...

After retirement it fell to me to take my Mom wherever she needed to go, and when she could no longer climb into my truck, I bought a black 2008 Chevy Impala...Of course the mag wheels, bigger tires, tinted glass and XM radio personalized it a bit...

But later I decided I had to have a stick shift instead of the automatic Impala, although I barely drove it anyway...That brings us to the black 2013 Dodge Challenger R/T with 375 HP Hemi, six-speed, traction control and factory XM radio...All I had to do was add the American Racing Torq-Thrust wheels, big tires and tinted glass, and now I have the two vehicles I can drive to my grave...

The most ironic part of this trek through personal history seems to center on the fact that I've always been a proponent of American-made transportation...And now I might be down to my last two vehicles, a truck made in Mexico, and a car made in Canada...

If I managed to forget any vehicles in this list, it's probably because they were really forgettable...But I still wish I had them all...

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Credibility vs. Credulity...

Recent events on our political scene call into question the credibility of those yearning for higher office, as well as the credulity of their ardent backers...Merriam-Webster defines "credibility" as "the quality of being believed or accepted as true, real or honest," and "credulity" as "readiness or willingness to believe especially on slight or uncertain evidence"...

The two should complement each other in hand/glove fashion as a voter should be able to accept as fact that a vote is being cast for one who truly represents the voter's beliefs, and not a flim-flam artist whose words only reflect a desire for enough suckers to buy the spiel, and guarantee ascension to office...

A brief overview of former Presidential elections reveals that never has the American voting public had a poorer choice than in the current scene...The last time the American voter had a clear choice of statesmen from which to choose was during the first two Presidential elections...

In 1788, the people went to the polls with a list of candidates who had no declared political party affiliations, and only the people to account to...The choice went to the candidate with the most acceptable vision for the nation's future and the best reputation for getting the job done...

One might argue that Ross Perot had  no political affiliation when he entered the race in 1992, but a stronger argument could prevail that he was only on the ballot to take votes away from George H.W. Bush...In either case, the position went to the candidate with the most believable promises for the greatest number of the gullible...

In my considered opinion, the closest the American voter has come to electing a true statesman again was 1904 as Teddy Roosevelt was chosen...He promised to work toward what was in his heart regardless of how many agreed with him...And once in charge, he showed again why he was considered a leader by so many...

Roosevelt never hid the fact that his party affiliations were more of convenience, rather than strict adherence to a political doctrine set down as planks in a platform by a committee guessing at what would gain the most votes...His party of choice at the time set down the belief that business was what carried America forward...

As President he fought for his belief that the people's needs were the only reason for business to exist, much to the consternation of his party backers who, erroneously again, thought they could keep him in check...Then, even knowing he could have easily won another term, he honored his promise not to seek his party's nomination again...

Our frontrunners this year are two proven liars, both egotists, each concerned only with personal gain and hiding its means of acquisition from public sight...In our representative form of government, each is perceived to have the legislative power to push through a personal agenda while holding out a tin cup for enough votes to "finish the job next time"...

I'll give credit where credit is due, but from our current viper's pit of politicians, I'll only accept cash...At the ballot box the best choice for America's future continues to be "none of the above," but we know the contender who will gather the most votes will be the one deemed the least from a roster of evils, while the loser, as usual, will be our nation's future...

More articles concerning Politics...

Measuring Success...

Why would anyone attempt to find a way of measuring an accomplishment with such fluid qualities, with no natural limit to shape or perception?...Success is a point on a journey to be viewed by the traveler and the traveler's observers, each having a different viewpoint as to whether the journey has ended, just begun or is taking another direction...

The only answer possible might be found by comparing it against other endeavors established by those with a particular achievement or goal in mind from the beginning, then deciding whether the course was terminated too early, led in the wrong direction or reached its end to the satisfaction of the helmsman...If a definable goal is in mind, was it reached in a straightline course destroying anything in its path, or was the road cut to avoid obstacles and leave intact those who might be traveling with a similar purpose at a slower rate?...And in either case, was the goal worth the expense of the effort?...

Each traveler on life's road shares that avenue with others, some with the same direction, some thinking their goal is back where you departed and still others with an entirely different course guiding them to their own goals...Observation of each by each yields clues which can be of help in measuring one's own schedule of achievement...

A sharp focus on one's goals can lead to falling into pits and stumbling over obstacles that may have been best avoided by a broader view of the path ahead, and possible detours and alternate routes...With this in mind, one may ponder whether a lone helmsman might find worthwhile value in a navigator to help steer the course...That question can only be answered by determining the added cost of the navigator, including the price to be paid by false turns from either, as balanced against the prize awaiting when the goal is declared to have been reached... 

All these thoughts come from the mind of a man who trod two paths simultaneously trying to make them converge at a single point, a difficult trick in itself...As it turns out, hindsight is one of the greatest tools in life's work, but can only be had at the price of failure...But failure has its own value when viewed in the proper perspective...Failure can be only one stumbling block with many brothers to be avoided in the road ahead...

As usual, I brought examples with me to show the class...Until retirement, I've been unemployed twice since I was 18...Once when I left the USAF and took a few weeks to look around the country visiting friends and relatives...Again when I moved to Houston...Quit work Friday afternoon, packed the moving van, drove to Houston, unpacked, looked for a job Monday afternoon and started work Tuesday morning...

Does that make me a success?...Although many regard steady employment as a success, I look at it as a learning experience in a lab for success, because although it provided sustenance and shelter, I was walking a path created by and for others, not necessarily myself...Being my own leader and following a direction of my choosing toward a goal which I set was more my idea of success...

When I found myself at the pinnacle of a career that allowed me to work for gain while maintaining my own level of integrity, I found my aging physical condition wouldn't allow me to continue, and I had to switch tracks...Already having an avocational interest in another field, I began to make use of discretionary time by building an inventory and reputation providing goods and service to others with similar enthusiasms...

But success can attract both the benevolent as well as the undesirable elements of humanity, and everything in between; the trick being to differentiate among them all...My degree of success began to show as expansion became a necessity...Others wanted along for the ride, but not all with the intention of sharing the load...This is where the aforementioned helmsman is best served by a competent navigator...

Staying with the nautical theme, a conscientious first mate would have been valuable in separating the rowers to be paid from the passengers from which to collect...Misplaced trust is a liability funded by lost profits and a journey terminating on the rocks at worst, and somewhat short of the goal at best...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Success, and its mirror side failure, take form in endeavors other than business also...As satisfying as a lucrative career might seem on the surface, It's luster shines more brightly reflected by those who admire your efforts, and with whom you can share your victory...But an unfortunate aspect of life lies in the fact that even snakes have families, and they can be masters of disguise for the unwary...

Success in the social side of life can be even trickier and fraught with more perils than business, as trust is even more essential, and harder to vet...Your object of attraction can become at the least annoyed if your confidence is not immediately granted...If attention is not paid as details become known, your disregard can become costly...

My first marriage began as most do with the best of intentions, and ended in dismal failure due to circumstances entirely of my own making...The only success I could take away from the experience was the knowledge of something to avoid if afforded another opportunity later in life...But "something" to avoid is only one item on a list of "everything" to avoid...Regrettably that list is unpublished...

My inability to see what should have been obvious warning flares before my second attempt at wedded union came from believing that we shared the same values when the only value she really wanted was what I had accrued, and she was not willing to share it with anyone...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This brings us not to the end, but to the present as no one knows where or how each odyssey ends...All we know is where we are now, and if we were paying attention, how we got here...Life is a series of experiences from which lessons are drawn...And I'm not through learning yet...

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A short book review...

"A Time For War" is very much worth the read for those wishing insight into the political cauldron which became the Vietnam War, but prepare yourself for some really dry reading if your tastes run more toward battle action...Author Robert D. Schulzinger goes into much detailed explanation of the timeline involving US participation in the political and diplomatic activities that drew America into an ever widening spiral of war and worldwide tension in Southeast Asia...

Beginning with the first tentative diplomatic moves as key players jockeyed for position for control of Indochina, each having their own agendas and goals, the author leads us from the first US participation, and first American military death in 1945 onto a path that grows more dark and sticky with each step...Six US Presidents each put his unique stamp on the events which would dictate the shape and direction for Southeast Asian history, all of which might have been written differently if two earlier Presidents had not spurned the efforts of prior nationalist groups...

Hindsight is always easy and accurate when analyzing events, but to his credit, the author sticks to his timeline with names, dates and documentation and little speculation on what might have been between 1945 and 1975...The book will be invaluable for researchers needing to know who said what to whom while tracing the convoluted path of power seekers trying to gain control of territory the value of which was always more symbolic than substantive...

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Order of Importance...

You're alive, what could be more important than that?...What happened?...Couldn't have been a SAM, you were too low...Probably too low for artillery, maybe a lucky shot from small arms fire?...Maybe the new fuses?...You had never used them before...Maybe they activated as soon as the ordnance left the rack...It's not important right now, you'll figure it out later...

How long have you been here, and where is "here?"...That's important...What happened to your hand and leg?...That's important, but not as important as whether it will slow down your extraction...You made contact with the jet you heard overhead, how long ago was that?...Yesterday?...This morning?...

If only your head didn't hurt so much, it slows down your thinking...Concentrate on what's important...That coffee you drank before the pre-flight briefing, that was important...The guy who got up even before you did and had it hot and ready for you, he was important...So was the guy who set out the brown fiberboard tray of clean mugs next to the urn...

You realize some USAF people think their job is not important, but they're really all important at one time or other...The 19 year old woman with one stripe on her arm walking up a stairwell carrying a sheaf of papers at finance section in a stateside base is important if you expect to get paid...That staff sergeant that spent the night sorting and assembling that stack of new photos you studied at the briefing is important whether you ever meet him or not...

All the people at McDonnell-Douglas who were involved in building the aircraft which lies in smoldering ruin now are important, just like the taxpayers who financed it, and will never get their money back...The only return they want to see on their investment of time, effort and money is your safe return...It's important to them...

All the people who were assigned to SEA at one time or another, did their duty and went home, they were important...So are the ones who signed on for another tour, and are still at the grind...And the ones who didn't get back...And never will...

That young lady you're so fond of, the flight attendant you met, she's very important...And you're important to her...That's why she's arranging her workload to meet you in Da Nang for a few hours...A few hours at a time is all you've ever had together...Who's going to meet her flight now?...Who's going to explain why you're not there?...Who's going to tell her how important she is to you?...

There's an awful lot of activity around you now, but you can't see any of it because of the thick cloak of jungle around you, and the triple canopy over you...Some of it is the dinks combing the vines and bushes hoping to add you to their collection of POW's...A lot more is all the aircraft buzzing overhead trying to get you to a safe haven...

You can't hear them because they're so high, but you know there are a number of fighters up there in a RESCAP formation to protect the aircraft sent to pull you out...Some of them you know very well, others you never met...

Some diverted from egressing their own bomb runs after taking on fuel from the KC-135's and KC-130's that are circling in their own endless loops hoping a SAM or AAA doesn't find them before they can get you out...Some have empty guns from earlier action, and know the only thing they can do is draw fire away from the others...

The enemy AAA crews found the first Jolly Green you heard overhead...You heard the change in engine noise and rotor pitch as it took a 23 mike-mike and was forced to egress...You know a couple of Sandies escorted them home...What you don't know is that 20 friendlies involved in your rescue attempt were shot up and damaged, and forced to withdraw...Most RTB'ed safely...Some joined your Phantom on the jungle floor...

How long have you been here?...What is that noise overhead?...Have you been asleep?...The fog starts to clear and you remember some details, but they're jumbled...You realize there's a penetrator about 20 feet away which you were supposed to crawl to...How long has it been there?...You remember you gave the order over the radio not to allow the Para-Jumper to descend with the penetrator...

You thought you had the strength to crawl to it without further endangering the life of the PJ...How long ago was that?...Did you black out?...[Capt. Sijan would never know that the Jolly Green's aircraft commander chose to hover the site, taking hostile fire for an incredible 33 minutes before being ordered to withdraw by the SAR on-scene commander]...

When did it get dark?...Did you black out again?...The enemy is still out there searching; you know because you can hear them...Better to stay put until morning and not draw attention...You have to find something to eat soon...They'll be back tomorrow...How many tomorrows have you been here?...Did you leave your radio on "transmit?"...The battery's dead...You have to get off this mountain and into an open area, or they'll never see your signal...That's what's important right now...

[This article was inspired by the final events in the life of Capt. Lance Sijan,and by the book detailing those events and his legacy...On his final mission over Laos, his F-4C erupted in a ball of flame...After ejection he survived 10 weeks in the jungle with no rations or medicines, only to die in a prison camp after being captured a second time...

The thoughts I outlined above may have gone through his head, or he may have had other things more important on his mind...Capt. Sijan believed all missions were important...His importance in the lives he touched is immeasurable...]

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Revenue...

Truckman bears all expenses associated with his blogs, photo galleries, video productions and forum posts alone, asking no reimbursement nor subsidies from government, business nor public or private funds...He feels that this is an appropriate way of expressing his gratitude to those fortunate enough to be blessed with the opportunity to share his wisdom...

Truckman feels it is enough to eventually depart this life knowing he has raised the bar of learning for his readers...However, those who absolutely insist on offering sponsorship of his efforts to enrich the collective knowledge of the world may do so anonymously by depositing cash only (US currency) under the fuel filler door of his truck...

Larger amounts may require FedEx or UPS delivery...

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An added convenience...

Since Truckman has long had an international audience, a language translator has been added to the side column for the convenience of his foreign readers...We apologize, but Capitolese, Ebonics, Textspeak, ValleyGirlisms, ASL and Braille are not available at the time of this publication...

Those wishing to show up unannounced at Truckman's door to debate his published articles are requested to learn English first as he often punctuates his answers to gibberish with a .45...Milspeak is optional on a P2P basis only...

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For Those Wondering...

Entering your email address in the "Follow By Email" window located in the side column on each page will not subject you to unwanted spam messages...Truckman will not see or collect your email addresses as he has enough to do already without keeping track of you goobers...

After you submit your request, you will receive an email from "FeedBurner" asking you to confirm that you made this request, and it's not just your ex-spouse trying to harass you...You must click the return link in the email to start receiving updates...

Some email providers may recognize "FeedBurner" as spam and send it directly to your spam folder if your neurosis level is set too high...If you do not see the "FeedBurner" message within a day after your request, check your spam folder...

As a bonus, you will no longer be forced to check this blog for new articles since they will be emailed directly to you, allowing you to avoid the embarrassment of having this blog appear in your browser history...But you're still welcome to visit Truckman's blogs to check for updates and corrections as it sometimes gets lonely and scary here without you...

It's not paranoia if they're really watching you...

EDIT: A further convenience for readers has been brought to our attention...The email updates sent to subscribers will also include the handy built-in video viewer automatically linked to any embedded YouTube url's in the article...You're welcome...

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For Your Convenience...

Some attention-challenged students of modern life have expressed concern that the "Blog Archive" located in the side column of each page is too confusing...In a gracious concession to his many readers who find they can only concentrate on one topic at a time, and for the benefit of future historians who will use this valuable research source, Truckman has added category buttons just under the page top banner...

Your "Terms Of Service" and "Frequently Asked Questions" are also available for viewing in the categories...There is no extra charge to readers for this handy feature, being merely another way for Truckman to reward the loyalty of his reader(s)...

You're welcome...

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MOH Addendum...

Click here for Part I...

I wrote earlier about my Mustache Of Honor, and in my research found that facial follicles cultivated as ornamentation in the military have a rich history of their own...Depending on their wearers' point in history's timeline and their position on the globe, military facial hair may be required, discouraged, permitted, encouraged, ignored or outright banned...

As usual, Wikipedia is the go-to source for finding military entities which have rules governing hair growth, and how they are applied...Whether or not the Macedonian king,  Alexander the Great, was the first battlefield commander to order his soldiers to shave remains shrouded in mystery, but it is clear that grooming regulations are mandatory to ensure military discipline...

When I reached my basic training camp at the beginning of my USAF service, and was issued the gear deemed necessary for military life, I was told in no uncertain terms that I would begin each day by closely shaving the front portion of my head from the top of my ears to my collarbone, regardless of whether any hair was visible or not...In my case very little which qualified as hair was visible on my face before shaving, a condition which soon changed...

Even a historical figure who is universally recalled with loathing and disgust can claim a place in upper lip hair history...Through a clerical error on the part of the German government, Austrian draft evader Adolf Hitler was inducted into the Bavarian Army in 1914 instead of being deported to Austria for prosecution, and rose to the rank of Gefreiter...

Some photos exist depicting the future despot in uniform at the battlefront sporting a large, flowing handlebar mustache...Whether or not he still displayed this growth, or whether he used a gas mask in 1918 when he and other soldiers in his unit fell victim to a mustard gas attack leaving him temporarily blinded and speechless, is unclear...

What is known is that such a large lip encumbrance makes it difficult if not impossible to achieve a proper seal between the face and the mask, and is one reason why mustache size is restricted in modern armies...Whatever the case at the time of his incapacitation, it is known that for the rest of his life, he was only seen wearing the small "toothbrush" style which will fit under a military gas mask...

Current US Army guidelines are strict in what is permitted or disallowed, but such was not always the case...General Ambrose Burnside even lent his name to the growth between his nose and ears...During the Vietnam War, Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, in one of his famous Z-grams, relaxed the grooming regulations for Navy personnel in a battle zone...

The popularity of Col. Olds' mustache, which inspired my earlier article, led to a new tradition of which I was unaware...Mustache March has become an annual event in which Air Force personnel are allowed, and sometimes encouraged, to cultivate facial growth...

Other members of the military took a different approach to the event by protesting it to be sexist and discriminatory in nature...Notably, Maj. Jennifer Holmes and Navy Cmdr. Sara Zak (Ret.) took umbrage, with Cmdr. Zak going so far as to demand Gen. Welsh step down and rescind his branch-wide smackdown to all USAF personnel to pack away their shaving gear for a month, and "have a little fun"...

I attribute this to jealousy due to their inability to grow facial hair, a condition possibly inherited from their mothers...It's unclear whether either sought treatments from the base medical officers to correct this condition...In any case, I'd better go check for messages at Bristlr...

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The Mustache of Honor...

Click here for Part II...

My mustache will soon celebrate its 49th birthday...The one I display under my nose today is the second one I've grown, the first being such a wimpy little thing, it barely deserves a mention...In thinking about it in hindsight, it really had no purpose, or even reason to justify its existence, and is barely worth a passing remembrance other than its place on a list of two...

My current duster first saw the light of day in August of 1967 when I was still stationed in West Germany flexing the USAF's muscle in the face of the Rooskies...Meanwhile, several time zones away, men were losing their lives everyday in a war several degrees hotter...One day reading the Stars & Stripes over my morning coffee, I read my first reference to a firebrand Colonel named Robin Olds...

As commander of the 8th TFW at Ubon RTAB, Thailand, he and his men had earlier that year made military history by suckering the DRV Air Force into a dogfight over Hanoi, and destroying half the enemy's entire MiG 21 inventory in an action called Operation Bolo...The story went on to describe Olds' leadership, and his men's devotion to duty under that leadership which many of them exemplified by duplicating his large, and decidedly un-military mustache...

In support of the war effort (and my own rebellious streak) I set out that morning to once again put my upper lip on display by cultivating my own hirsute facial adornment...As it became visible, the running barracks joke became that I was trying to get my weight back up to minimum USAF standards to avoid a medical discharge, and hair had to weigh something...

As luck and maturity would have it, my mustache reached far more luxuriant growth that my earlier attempt the previous year, even lending itself to handlebar proportions with the aid of a tube of mustache wax sent to me by a young lady with whom I was corresponding at the time...Considering its faithfulness to me over the years in good times as well as not-as-good, I now refer to it as my Mustache Of Honor, and it will likely be the only MOH I will ever be authorized to wear...

All this was brought back in memory as I recently completed my reading of "Fighter Pilot," compiled and written by Olds' daughter, Christina Olds, and Ed Rasimus from the voluminous papers, photos, letters and memorabilia Olds collected during his lifetime...Below is a brief excerpt from the Amazon page linked above...

Robin Olds was many things to many people. To his West Point football coach he was an All American destined for the National College Football Hall of Fame. To his P-38 and P-51 wartime squadrons in WWII he was the aggressive fighter pilot who made double ace and became their commander in nine short months. For the pioneers of the jet age, he was the wingman on the first jet demo team, a racer in the Thompson Trophy race, and the only U.S. exchange officer to command an RAF squadron. In the tabloid press he was the dashing flying hero who married the glamorous movie star.

If only one word stood out to best describe Olds and the impact he left on the lives he touched, it would be "leadership"...And he always led from the front, never happy to be behind the lines directing the action...He showed his natural aggressiveness and get-out-of-my-sky attitude as soon as he spotted the first enemy aircraft in the skies over Germany during WWII, earning a unit command and the rank of Major at the age of 22...

Medals, awards and decorations are but one way to trace one's military career...Some, like this writer, couldn't even stay out of trouble for the three short years required to earn a Good Conduct Medal, and receive their discharge wearing whatever unit citations were awarded their assigned duty stations...Others, like Col. Olds (in later years he preferred to be called Colonel even though he achieved the rank of Brigadier General before retirement) barely had room on his dress blues to hold the decorations which had been awarded him in his career...

As an example, this following paragraph describes the criteria by which a serviceperson becomes eligible to be recommended for the Air Medal...

The medal is awarded to anyone who, while serving in any capacity in or with the Armed Forces of the United States, distinguishes himself or herself by meritorious achievement while participating in aerial flight.

Among the many citations which bear his name, Olds was awarded the Air Medal 40 times in his career, so many in fact that it took an entire row on the left breast of his uniform jacket to hold all the ribbons and oak leaf clusters signifying just this one award...By contrast, legendary air warrior and Medal of Honor recipient Jimmy Doolittle, under whose command Olds served in WWII, ended his career with four Air Medal awards...

But Olds was not above using medals to an advantage to right a potential wrong...During his last days in SEA, Olds was part of a MiG CAP running interference for bomb-laden F-105's inbound for targets near Hanoi...They engaged a group of MiG's, and Olds chased one MiG 21 into the path of a North Vietnamese SAM and watched as the MiG was destroyed...

Upon calling for the egress, he found that one of his men's aircraft had sustained major damage, was losing fuel rapidly and they planned to eject over Laos when the fuel was exhausted...Immediately, the pilot of a KC-135 tanker listening in his track over South Vietnam got on the radio and said, "Negative, I'm coming to get you"...

Both planes managed to rendezvous over North Vietnam seconds before the Phantom ran out of fuel...Turning both aircraft south, they realized the F-4 was losing fuel almost as fast as it was being pumped in through a gaping hole in the wing...Leaving the connection intact, the KC-135 pilot pulled the crippled F-4 through the sky to the nearest friendly base in Thailand...

Once within range he unhooked, and the Phantom landed safely, its only remaining engine dying from fuel starvation as it rolled to a stop on the runway...A week later Olds was told that the KC-135 pilot who prevented the possible loss of an aircrew and their aircraft was facing court martial for unauthorized entry into enemy airspace during that daring rescue...

Olds solved that problem by recommending the KC-135 pilot for the Silver Star in his after action report...After his recommendation made its way up through channels, no more mention was made of court-martial and the matter was dropped...

At the time of that battle, Olds was neither mission commander nor flight commander, having been ordered to cease leading attacks north of the DMZ due to the large bounty placed on his life by the DRV...The innovative Olds sidestepped that order by assigning battle command posts to his men, and joining them as a mere pilot...However, his report and recommendation as Wing Commander apparently still carried some weight...

If stories like this are your cup of tea, then this book, a loving tribute to her father, as compiled by his daughter should be the next book you read...It is on the Truckman Most Highly Recommended list...It's my understanding that Miss Olds is diverting all royalties toward retiring the debt accrued by her father prior to his death...

A diligent search of the internet will turn up a photo of this writer and his Mustache Of Honor, braced against the wind and standing next to an F-4 Phantom painted to reproduce Olds' favorite, and last, fighter aircraft, Scat XXVII, in which he became the only triple ace who flew combat missions in both WWII and the Vietnam War...It may be noted from the picture that the writer hasn't missed many meals in civilian life after his thinner days as a young weapons mechanic, and has acquired considerable poundage since the day he decided to follow the crowd supporting Col. Olds...

There's nothing wrong with following a crowd as long as the right leader is in charge, and you're going in the same direction anyway...

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A Lasting Memory...

I hesitate to post this from the news because it brings up a lot of very unpleasant memories...But the circumstances are uncannily similar to what happened 39 years ago to my friend and high school classmate, Holly Maddux [Warning before clicking Holly's link; the crime scene photos are gruesome]... 

From the original newslink above: "Police responded to a residence on Plaza Avenue at 5 p.m. on Sunday after receiving reports of a foul odor coming from the second floor apartment. When they arrived, they found the body of 40-year-old Melanie Heuberger in a bedroom closet."

Judging from the suspect's photo, he is as much a scumbag as the despicable Ira Einhorn who took the life of my friend...Every once in a while, the details of that case start to fade from my memory, and then someone like this from the bottom rungs of humanity's ladder reaches the surface, and I get to review the particulars all over again...

Following high school, I lost touch with my classmates and was unaware of Holly's fate until the late 80's when I happened to be watching John Walsh's "America's Most Wanted," and began to hear the story of my friend's murder and the escape from justice of her killer...Like many people, I tend to only remember the more pleasant memories of a deceased friend, but for the life of me, I can't recall a single derogatory facet of Holly's life...

I would never characterize us as close friends, as she was one of the more popular and well-known students at John Tyler H.S., and I was just one of the faceless nobodies seen walking the halls from class to class...And yet, as Holly walked to her nearby home after school, she occasionally caught up to me and we talked as I walked to my car...

That she even recognized my existence always shocked me since she was one of the three most beautiful girls in my high school (for the life of me, when her face is on my mind, I can never remember who the other two were), in addition to being head cheerleader and Class of '65 Salutatorian...I recall that in an age when the fashion trends dictated huge, puffed out hairstyles and lots of makeup for the H.S. girls, Holly outshone them all with her straight natural hair, and no makeup whatsoever...She was also a gifted and accomplished dancer and artist, and held a black belt in judo...

I lost contact with all my former classmates when I enlisted in the USAF, but my later reading tells me that Holly went on to Bryn Mawr College, and subsequently became involved in the women's lib movement...From there she met self proclaimed guru and Earth Day founder, Ira Einhorn (who extrapolated his surname to "The Unicorn"), and began a live-in relationship with him...

After he murdered her in 1977, with blows to the head so violent that parts of her broken skull were driven into her brain, he stuffed her broken body into a trunk, and stored it in a closet of their apartment...The coroner later determined that she was still alive when he sealed her in the luggage...After numerous complaints of the foul odor by neighbors, police discovered the grisly remains 18 months later, and arrested Einhorn...

Days before his trial was to begin in 1981, he vanished, skipping bail that his wealthy environmentalist friends had posted...He was tried in absentia in 1993, and sentenced to life in prison without parole...He was located in 1997 in France where his extradition was blocked by squeamish French authorities who feared a death penalty if he were re-tried...

In 2001 he was finally brought to justice in the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia, and sentenced again to life in prison without the possibility of parole...Perhaps his modern day counterpart, Adam Plaeger, will take his cue from Einhorn and borrow his innovative defense that the CIA murdered his girlfriend, then framed him for the butchery...

The worst thing about Einhorn's horrendous crime is not just that he took Holly's life, but that he destroyed the potential from which the world could have profited...I can only hope that the family and friends of Melanie Heuberger will have closure for their loss in less time than it has taken for those of us who cared for Holly Maddux...

The long awaited conclusion and update to this story may be found here...

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