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...
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...
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...
I've recently been re-examining some of my thoughts concerning the Vietnam era, although my considerations have centered more on the hardware involved...As a young weapons mechanic, fresh out of tech school at Lowry AFB, I was assigned to the 49th TFW, 9th TFS at Spangdahlem AB in what was then West Germany in 1966...My job as a load crew member was to configure our F-105D's and F-105F's with whatever ordnance was called for that day, whether conventional or nuclear...
I didn't particularly like the work as it was monotonous and predictable, not to mention our uniforms and boots had to be in inspection order at all times...After a few long months of this, we started receiving the first of my beloved F-4 Phantoms, and I requested reassignment to the 349th MMS as a weapons release technician...Happily I was accepted and began doing work much more satisfying and meaningful to me...
As the F-4's arrived, the F-105's departed for depot refitting in the US, and then on to Vietnam, where, I was told, all 75 of them wound up on the floor of the jungle due to their inability to outmaneuver the MiG's and SAM's when laden with bombs...For years I've dismissed them as inferior designs sent to do a job they weren't built for...But after reading several books written by those who actually flew them or flew with them, I've changed my perspective...
At the height of the cold war, when our B-52 aircrews were in the air continually carrying nuclear payloads to the edge of Soviet airspace, then flying them back to turn around and do it all over the next day, a different kind of bomber was needed for fast response in Europe...A tactical bomber which could carry a smaller nuclear payload was necessary to fly low altitude, map-of-the-earth missions against the Soviet Union if we detected their launch of a nuclear strike against us or our allies...
Thus was born the Republic F-105, probably the largest single-engine fighter ever built...Two books I've recently read point up the aircraft's strengths and deficiencies..."The Hunter Killers" featured the 105 prominently as the author chronicled the Wild Weasel program, and its role in Vietnam...
"Bury Us Upside Down" told the story of Operation Commando Sabre as they advanced the forward air controller's mission from the propeller age into the jet era...At no extra charge to my loyal readers, I will attempt to review both books here as they both cover a lot of the same real estate...
What the two operations had in common was fighter pilots with their tendencies to being the shot-caller in their own realm...Commando Sabre aircrews (callsign Misty) are discussed at great length in "Bury Us Upside Down"," and were typically made up of two combat-qualified fighter pilots, one of which was relegated to backseat duty as an EWO, reading radar emissions, monitoring radio channels and taking photos...
The Misty's job was to fly low and fast over the jungle canopy along the Ho Chi Minh Trail searching out probable truck parks, fuel dumps, rest camps and weapons caches, then marking them with smoke rockets...At this point bomb-laden F-105's and F-4's would drop from the clouds overhead to "hit the smoke" and obliterate the threat...
Naturally a fighter pilot is never happy out of the front seat where he can control the aircraft's movements, so the Misty pilots typically took turns when flying missions in one seat or the other, which also kept everyone sharp on both jobs...The book is thoroughly enjoyable because of its readability; a common thread runs through every chapter pulling the reader through with an invitation, almost a command, to the next page...
Beginning and ending with the funeral of Misty pilot, LtC. Howard K. Williams, 24 years after his F-100 disappeared in flight in 1968, the story unfolds of the formation, staffing, execution and conclusion of Commando Sabre...The authors (one a Misty pilot of 58 missions) tell of the interconnected lives of the squadron's personnel, along with many fascinating sidebars...
As an example, Dick Rutan, whose time as a Misty was part of his many-faceted aviation career, surreptitiously planned a one-man operation to find the location of the crash site of his friend Howie Williams in the North Vietnam jungle, and bring back proof of either his death or his capture...After arranging leave time, covert transportation and gathering materials, he received a mysterious phone call warning him not to undertake the task, that it had been "taken care of"...
Rutan says that to this day he does not know who was on the other end of that phone line, but suspects someone in SIGINT was privy not only to Williams' fate, but his own plans for self-insertion into North Vietnam...After much thought, he cancelled his plans, and had no further information until his friend's nearly empty casket came home...
"The Hunter Killers" tells of another group of flyers asked to do what would seemingly be a suicide mission...Wild Weasels made permanent teams of fighter pilots from TAC, and EWO's from SAC, since SAC crewmembers were already accustomed to working together as a team in one aircraft...A Google search of the cryptic acronym on the official patch of some Wild Weasel squadrons, "YGBSM," will reveal the first reaction from newly picked Weasels as they were told what was to be expected of them...
As much as I enjoyed reading the book, and gaining new insight on the assignments of some of the F-105's after they left my care, I found it seemed disjointed as the jump was made from one chapter to the next...It was as if the author had written a first draft, then decided to scatter in a few more essays as filler...
I read, and then re-read many parts before I could get some complete thoughts of the author's intent...However, even though my time with the USAF did not include any SEA assignments, I feel I have a better knowledge of what went on there and why from reading both these books...I feel as though some of the aircraft in my charge went on to greater glory, and I'm proud for having shared my service life with them...
Traveling together, wilderness hunters Daniel Boone and William Bean first laid eyes on the northeast area of what would become Tennessee while on a hunting trip prior to 1769...Bean was impressed enough by the beauty and resources of the area, that he became Tennessee's first permanent settler, building his first home in what would later be called Bean Station at the future crossroads of the Old Wilderness Road and the Old Stagecoach Road...
At this time, William became the first of four continuous generations of Bean gunsmiths...A naturally talented tinkerer, he took to gunmaking using locally found raw materials, even fashioning his own tools and machinery...
His rifles were so highly prized for their durability and accuracy, they were passed down from one generation to another by his customers...During the American Revolution, when soldiers were often expected to furnish their own weapons, many of the most feared marksmen brought Bean rifles with them into battle...
All seven of his sons followed him into the business, his oldest, Russell, being the most notable, not only for his skills at the workbench, but for his often uncontrolled temper...Following an alcohol-fueled rage he once cut off the ear of an infant, the reason for which being lost to history...
Refusing to answer a bench warrant issued by then Magistrate Andrew Jackson for his arrest regarding the offense, Bean barricaded himself inside his cabin with several of his own firearms...Not finding anyone brave or foolhardy enough to execute the warrant, Jackson confronted Bean himself, and by sheer force of will, brought him to justice...
Four of Russell's sons answered their country's call for fine firearms by entering the business with their father...Baxter was known not only for his rifles, but also his handguns...A contemporary of the times, Col. David Crockett, is known to have owned several Bean rifles, and is likely to have held one in his hands at the time of his death at the Battle of the Alamo...
Charles, Jr. was the last of the fourth generation to be actively engaged in the firearms trade...He converted many of the original flintlock actions made by his ancestors to percussion actions, and continued to make percussion firearms after other manufacturers had moved on to the modern breechlock mechanisms...
His rifles still commanded a higher price despite the advantages given by the breechlocks...Some were thought to be in use at the Battle of Bean Station during the War Between the States, where CSA General James Longstreet and his men routed the Union forces of General Shackelford and forced their withdrawal...
The Bean family thrived well in later years, sometimes altering the spelling of their surname, marrying into other families and expanding the frontiers of America...The gun business was apparently ingrained in the family DNA as evidenced by future events...
In 1908, a young beauty named Leslie Beene, then 14 years old and a direct descendant of William Bean, married a 17 year old cotton farmer named Claudie Johnson who built their home on his own land with his own hands in southern Arkansas...Even though Leslie's mother accompanied them to the courthouse for their marriage license, and gave her permission, in today's world Claudie would likely be prosecuted...
They were together more than 60 years, living on the same farm and dying within 11 days of each other after raising five children to adulthood...Their oldest daughter, Evelyn, married a young oilfield roughneck named Earl Young a month before the outbreak of World War II when he enlisted and left for overseas duty with the US Army...
Returning from his duty wearing staff sergeant's stripes following the Allied victory, he and Evelyn raised two sons in Texas, the youngest of which, after a successful sales career, built a construction business and started raising his own family, but tragically died from a heart attack before the age of 40...
The oldest son, following a varied career path, established a gun sales business, and built and co-owned the finest gun store and first indoor shooting range in Montgomery County, Shooter's Station...After successfully re-establishing the firearms trade in the family history, he retired and became a recluse where he offers his unbidden opinion on varied subjects by sporadically publishing entries in a rarely read blog and entertains his loyal fans with parody videos...
His mother, Evelyn, still lives in her own home nearby, where she looks forward to visits from her grandchildren and great-granddaughter while wondering whether her surviving son will ever grow up and make something of himself...Excluded from most intra-family discussions is a noted fashion designer said to be a distant relative...
Making good on my earlier threat, I am revisiting this subject with new examples...The world, and notably the Mexican President, is beginning to notice various similarities between political hopeful, Donald Trump, and the failed mid-twentieth century politician and madman, Adolf Hitler...
- At one time during his regime, AH constructed a West Wall along Germany's border with France, ostensibly to keep the French Army (a joke in itself) from invading his country...AH later made France pay for it by raping and plundering their nation after his hordes invaded their nation in an end run around that same wall...DT has vowed to build a wall along America's southern border to stop the invasion of illegal immigrants from Mexico, and has promised to make the Mexican government pay for it...He may have in mind using the same underground tunnels the Mexicans now use for transferring shipments of drugs and cash...
- AH hid his income from the public, although his wealth was considerable for the times...In addition to royalties from mandatory purchases of his book, his copyrighted image on postage stamps brought in a fortune...He was known to pay taxes only reluctantly...DT continues to hide his wealth and its sources by refusing to release his prior income tax returns...
- AH was known for his vanity and fastidiousness in public appearances...He hid his unattractive features, such as his palsied hand, whenever possible...DT's famous combover speaks for itself...
- AH simultaneously sought support from business leaders as well as union members in his rise to power, promising each he would work to disempower the other if elected...After his ascension to national leadership, he destroyed both...DT has sought and gained the contributions of business entities, while promising the working class their dreams will all come true after his inauguration...
The current spokesliars in the Kenyan government will probably never get an accurate headcount on the number of chumps who bought into their concocted story of demonstrating the valuelessness of the 100 tons of tusks and horns they destroyed...Whatever that number is, it was lost among the people who could have benefited from a different end to the now destroyed products...
Watching the vacuous smile on CNN reporterette Robyn Kriel's face as she described the burning of several tons of priceless ivory made me wonder if the associated losses ever entered her mind...There may have been plenty of room behind her smoke-irritated eyes for thoughts of how many hungry mouths could have been fed with the estimated $172 million she just watched reduced to ashes...
Eating dinner that night on her CNN expense account, she may not have had much time between bites to consider what impoverished Kenyan's were enjoying at their tables on their estimated $1.25 income per day...To be fair, the approximately 17.7% of Kenya's population who subsist on that amount were probably too busy dying from hunger to worry whether her coffee was sweetened to her liking...
The jet fuel used to sustain the fires might have found better use in the cookfires of Kenya's kitchens for their non-existent meals, or if nothing else could have helped tank up the jet for Kenya's most traveled president...The tallies are not yet in as accountants toil feverishly to figure how many years were shaved from the backside of Earth's life from the smoke and ash which filled the air over the African savannas from the torched ivory adding to that worrisome global warming...
Speaking from behind their comfortable desks in their sumptuously appointed, air-conditioned government offices, Kenyan spokesliars would have gullible observers believe that the burn was meant to prove to the world that ivory, horns, antlers and all other appendages removed from donor animals have no value, when in fact the proceeds gleaned from the potential sale of these items could have funded a number of worthwhile projects...Aside from feeding Kenya's impoverished millions, the poachers who gained the illegal harvest could be more aggressively sought, tried and punished...
The animal products which could have been profitably transformed into pistol grips, knife handles, paperweights and sundry other items, giving useful employment to many, have instead been turned into airborne pollutants and carcinogenic irritants...The value of existing ivory and other corneous accoutrements continues to rise, pleasing its investors, while the lure of wealth from illegal poaching goes forward unabated...
Please note that I am not in favor of poaching under any circumstance, although I might have made an exception for medieval English serfs feeding their families from the bounty of feastables in the King's forests, but I am equally opposed to cutting off one's nose to spite one's face by destroying what has intrinsic value for the sake of making a political statement...
