Category: REMEMBERED HISTORY/NOT 100% FACTUAL/IN THE REALM OF FACTUAL/HONESTLY REPORTED FROM PAPA’S MEMORIES (Page 6 of 7)

In my past life involving investigation reviews, America’s adherence to doing what is right was a source of pride. In Vietnam our military conducted investigations into alleged war crimes. I can attest that I never saw any evidence that the enemy was one bit concerned about following the law of land warfare. Our side was not immune from violating international law but I recall that in training and in the field, doing what was right in a combat context was stressed. And, when violations occurred or possibly happened by US forces, an investigation was required. I always came away with the impression that the investigations I reviewed were thorough and above board. In wartime it may not alays be easy to take the time and put in the effort to investigate but America’s military did so in solid fashion.

Complete truth may not always be possible in the short term but accountability was the ultimate goal. After action investigations were pursued even if facts didn’t come out until much later. I feel very comfortable saying that I never had cause to doubt that sincere attempts were made by America for finding the facts and accountability. Wherever the chips might fall. War is horrible but nations and citizens owe an obligation to abide by international law.

There is little doubt that war crimes are being committed with the current Russian invasion. It may take time but it is to be hoped that at some point a forum will exist at which violators are subject to accountability.

The invasion of Ukraine by Russia emphasizes why air support is so important in modern warfare. Russia pretty much dominates the air and that gives it a great advanatge over the Ukrainian forces on the ground. Ukraine sure could have used more defensive weapons against air assaults before the invasion. Which reminded me of historical events that I’d recommend you knowing. Not the least of which is that a soldier raised in Papa’s hometown is often credited with advocating that the US develop air power in future wars. Of great consequnce in World War Two.

In World War One, long before the US joined that effort, young American pilots volunteered to help the French. Some were quite well to do but risked going into combat anyways. (Made sense because I suspect the wealthy had more opportunity to fly airplanes in those days.) The French government accepted American volunteers and that segment of air support in those days became known as “Lafayette Escadrille”.

A similar thing happened before World War Two when Ameicans formed the AVG to assist China in fighting Japan. The pilots were quite skilled and successful against the enemy. Some of their origins stemmed from daredevil pilots that once were popular in entertaining crowds. (i.e. it’s said that the founder once tied his plane to two other bi-planes and off the three of them flew to do tricks in the air!) The American Voluteer Group became known as the “Flying Tigers.” I remember having a model plane with their famous shark tooth painting.

Has anyone noticed that most of Papa’s memories involve history? For this current message I go back to my college days. Not the down on State Street days. I’m talking about actual classes of education. I was not immune. World War Two was the seminal memory of my youth. Much of my world outlook stems from my knowledge of the first fifty years of the 20th century. The 1950’s was an era of the Red Scare. Commies might be everywhere. I recall a few “duck and cover” drills at school. (There actually was chewing gum under those desks.) Chants of “Joe Must Go” were directed at my home state’s senator. I was a 9 year old passenger in a car on 76th street when the radio news informed of the Rosenberg executions. I was very much aware of my geopolitical surroundings. Isn’t everyone?

So, by the time I got to college I knew everything about everything; as will you at some point after you reach puberty. To ward off the commies of the Soviet Union, President Eisenhower developed a policy of “mutually assured destruction.” (MAD) The Soviets and communisim were very much on the march after the war. To stop their advance at the “Iron Curtain” NATO was created. One advantage of MAD was it allowed for smaller military forces since an A-Bomb could be the price to pay for misbehavior. Nuclear weapons probably did have a positive impact on Soviet or US temper tandrums. Kept the Soviets in the box. Ending the world has a sobering effect.

But, some folks can’t let well enough alone. Usually it is someone with do-gooder sentiments. Blow up the whole world just because a cause of war exits? There must be some other way to blow off a little steam. Like they used to do in the rational days of Napoleon. What was needed was good old fashioned, limited wars. Let’s call them “brush fire wars”.

The country can’t change overnight. Popular support for something new was needed. How about a book? Called “Red Alert”. (1958) Assume no actual cause for war. Assume no actual order to start a nuclear attack is given. Maybe a mistake that sends a bomber on a mission and the bomber can’t be recalled when the mistake is revealed. The world blows up by mistake. We can’t have that kind of insanity.

Papa, even in those days, wasn’t the brightest but it was never clear to me why brush fire wars would stop a mistaken use of nukes. But, what did I know? In short order brush fire wars erupted. For my generation, that small war that needed a “flexible response” was Vietnam. Thus, at college, I remember the professor drolling over the concept of JFK’s flexible response policy. It was much more civilized to continue the centuries old tradition of killing in conventional wars than risk a huge meltdown. (Even if it doesn’t happen?)

On this subject and particularly the 1958 book I recommend a1964 movie: “Dr. Stranglove”. (How to learn to stop worrying and love the bomb.) It is in black and white photography. In a similar vein, But on the serious side there was a 1962 book followed by a 1964 movie, “Fail Safe”. Dr. Stranglove is more fun.

Well, he did it. War in Europe. Takes a special kind of dictator. The news outlets describe old Vlad as a Pariah. Papa and his ilk are more likely to use the word Doofus. Monsters deserve the more serious names of comdenation by talking heads. But, sometimes humor or satire are also appropriate. Sitting stoic on a stark stage while lying about Ukraine is a humorous vision. Vald pledges to rush into Ukraine and de-Nazify Ukraine by removing its Jewish President. Probably kill him if the Russians troops can get their hands on him. That would really make the anti-Nazi point.

For poking fun at the worst of the worst I recommend the 1940 movie “The Great Dictator”. It was filmed in black and white. I apologize to my grandkids with an aversion to such cinematography. But, it makes its point with sledge hammer clarity. The movie was made even before Papa’s time. However, with any sense of twentieth century history, you will understand its humor. Skewers old Adolph good.

Have faith in liberty. No matter how many Nuts Jobs (Hitler, Mussolini, Tojo, Mao, Castro and a sprinkling of other Poohbahs) spring up, civilization seems to advance towards peace and prosperity. It’ll always be a struggle. Thugs/bullies usually only respond to strength. Too often that solution runs smack into a desire of too many to go along to get along. Some folks are way too fearful of setting red lights and even get skittish about yellow lights. Dictators love green lights and may look to exploit yellow ones. The major problem with weakness in the face of bullies is that delay in standing up makes everything more costly once the bully is confronted. We shall see but for now the people of Ukraine are bearing the brunt.

A recent news telecast depicted a helicopter crash near a beach in Florida. Quite a dramatic vision. The crash itself is sad and not something I bring up without sympathy for loss. However, the incident brings to mind experiences concerning helicopters that I wish to share. Papa is no engineer but the ability of airplanes to fly made sense mainly because they have wings. Conversely, I acquired a belief that it was hard for helicopters to actually fly. No wings.

However, fly they do. I was never comfortable riding in one. Part of the reason for my failure to embrace flight in a giant egg beater stems from a portion of my work in Vietnam. Some of my work involved reviewing various investigations. The military does a ton of investigations; including aircraft accidents. I’d review with an eye towards how thorough a job had been done and if there were any unanswered questions etc. One item regarding helicopters stuck in my mind. I’d receive a readout about the number of aircraft lost. In combat or from accidents. The actual numbers are no longer retained in my vice-like brain but what was especially significant to me at the time was that helicopters lost to accident versus to combat was at least 2 1/2 times greater. Perhaps those Cong guys were bad shots but I doubt if that created the ratio gap.

On the few occasions when I had to fly away from the safety of our base, I was often fortunate to be able to pick and choose my routing. I had some flexibility about date and times. I remember going to aviation offices and looking for pilots of upcoming trips with photos of family on the desk. In a few of my investigative reviews I’d read about what is best described as an element of risk taking by pilots. Helicopters can auto-rotate to safe landings at times. I remember one where the pilot rotated down with the airfield in sight and he was teased for doing so. Then, of course, there was another that experienced similar engine problems but crashed trying to get to base to avoid being teased. I can recall a few other “accidents” caused by sheer stupidity.

Once, near or at the border with Cambodia in the Delta region I had no choice of pilots. Off we were to go from a landing zone surrounded on three sides by tall (really tall) trees. The crew’s radio chatter seemed excited about whether the pilot would try to clear the tall (very, very tall to my eyes) trees on the flight out. A perfectly cleared fourth direction of course was not used. Everyone was excited to see if the helicopter would make it except Papa. I saw the tip top of those damn trees as amounting to a non-combat loss to pad the statistical imbalance.

DON’T EVER LET OTHERS DEFINE YOU.

This is one of those never, ever things. Everything about you is constructed inside out. Starting with family there are plenty of resources for your mind to use/emulate as you go about the task of defining yourself. You are the architect. Your identity, persoanlity, character, morality, spirit and conscience are singular. Third parties are observers. What they might think or believe about you from such observations are strictly theirs, not yours.

STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT NAMES WILL NEVER HURT ME!

I first heard this bromide about 72 years ago at the time of my solo venture out into the world of bullies. i.e. my first day of school. I was just bright enough to know that I could shrug off being called “four eyes” because I wore glasses. That part of the equation I got. It was the broken bones picture that got my attention. Knuckle raps into the upper arm or losing a prized possession to older toughs who “borrowed” it eventually became the worse damage I had to endure. It was hard to adhere to the belief in “the bigger they are the harder they fall” philosophy. Or, the reassurance that bullies are no bigger/better than you because “they put their pants on one leg at a time.” (Easy for an adult to say.)

I don’t mean to put a “Farkus” from Christmas Story spin to the past that minimizes its threatening aspect. However, my encounters with bullies pale in relation to presnt day bullies; especially those on social media. I’m not sure my old brain understands the social part of on-line bullys. Secret, mean spirited cowards taking potshots at other humans seems like a media platform that has no redeeming social value. The easy answer is to stay away from silliness. In the old days the knuckle rapper had to get where you saw the whites of their eyes. Yet, I understand many young people wish to spend hours per day on a device interacting with strangers. If you do so, and someone tries to get under your skin, that is where and when the OTHERS DON”T DEFINE YOU rule comes into play. Delete all as so much water off a duck’s back. Bullies aren’t worth a warm cup of spit. You are a valued person onto yourself.

When I was in grade school my dad took the family to various conventions in May of each year. We always drove. No one in the family flew on an airplane until the 1960’s; except for me if a certain unauthorized trip in a seaplane counts. However, that’s another story for another time. The convention travels I remember were to Long Beach, Miami, New Orleans, Dallas, Salt Lake City and Omaha. Those trips opened picturesque vistas of our entire country to my young eyes. I felt a tinge of pride after traveling the famed Highway 66. Life was simple in those days. Having traveled the “Main Street Of America” gave a kid status when reporting details of a vacation. Automobile traffic exloded after World War Two and there was even a popular song about Highway 66. Think the birth of fast food and other travel services that are attributed to such trips.

I saw first hand all the differing topographies of America. Most were the opposite of the rolling kettle moraines of my home state. Those trips happened before most of the nation’s interstate highway system was completed. We traveled along two lane roads in the countryside that at times felt like concrete ribbons winding through tunnels of billboards. Signs galore advertised anything and everything. The billboards were huge and up close and not far from the highway’s edge. But, mostly I remember Burma Shave. A clever advertiser spaced six small red signs about 100 feet apart. We might encounter 3 or 4 sets of signs during each day’s drive. It was something to look forward to if we lost interest in various games to occupy the time. Look it up sometime but I found one that gives you the flavor.

SLOW DOWN PA

SAKES ALIVE

MA MISSED SIGNS

FOUR AND FIVE

BURMA SHAVE!

Yes, parents were often called Ma and Pa. Many of the signs along America’s highways disappeared thereafter. The clutter of billboards was considered an eyesore and a disgrace to the nation. What happens when a country is shamed? Tear the signs down! What’s left? Greenery! Legislation was adopted to beautify Ameica’s roadways by removing/reducing billboards. It worked. Unobstructed scenery became the norm for any decades. Until somebody got the bright idea of plopping giant windmills in clear view from highways.

This intrusion was first noticed in Nova Scotia. One appeared and was noticable on a trek back to the Halifax airport. Then a second and so on through the ensuing years. There are still only about a dozen total on the route but they are noticable. Undoubtedly some folks must balloon with eco pride at the site. Yet, there are places with more than a scattered dozen; dozens cloud the horizon in huge wind farms. Not to be otdone, I can also look out at large swaths of solar panels dotting the greenery adjoining the highways. Ah, progress. I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I prefer the vistas between the blight of billboards and he shine of progress. Dare Papa wonder if there is an element of “what goes around comes around”?

MENTAL HOSPITALS EMPTIED

I want to avoid overstating the obvious. However, aspects of today’s homelessness situation were predictable nearly fifty years ago. I recall a conversation with my older brother lawyer about a case that arose in our hometown that made its way to the US Supreme Court. The case was part of a change in the historic manner of mental health commitments by the courts. Due process rules akin to criminal law cases were established before an individual could be involuntarily committed for treatment.

A local lady diagnosed with schizophrenia was well know for repetitive phone calls (i. e. 100’s in a day), oration at common council meetings and ongoing disputes with past employers/attorneys/ and police. When the police came to transport her to a hospital she claimed they were “Nixon Goons” sent to kill her. There was no question that the poor woman needed mental health treatment. However, short of an official court commitment she refused treatment. Her successful case led to a re-writing of the state’s laws on involuntary commitment. What my brother and I discussed those many years ago is that her case also led to reducing/closing much of the county’s mental health facilities; including out-patients funding. Politicians could then re-direct those funds to other sectors. The question thereafter was whether a suitable treatment alternative to commitments was to be set up. The local lady involved lived a long and presumably chaotic life. Homeless at times she often slept on buses and had scores of emergency detentions. It was later reported that she once asked for admission to a psychiatric hospital for treatment but she was refused because she did not meet the admission criteria established by her case in the 1970’s. (No room in the inn.)

When one walks the downtown streets it is common to see segments of the homeless who rant and rave. It cannot be determined if the individual is a danger to themselves or others but treatment is clearly needed. Layer in addictions and there are many on the street who do not get adequate treatment. I see little dignity in their freedom/plight. Politically, it allows for a great deal of lip service to compassion and talk of addressing “complex” issues. A legislative will to enact required treatment, and pay for it, short of mental institutions for the non-dangerous doesn’t appear to exist.

One constant for folks brought in for a hearing after an emergency detention is the refusal to take medication. In a past life Papa was appointed to represent various clients on mental health holds. Most of the individuals stated they’d refuse medication. A quick hearing and they’d be back on the streets. One man in particular insisted he’d not be examined, sealed his lips and would take no medicine. He said words to the effect that they will have to release me. He was. Two months later the newspaper reported that he died after being struck by a vehicle on a snowy night while he was running naked in the center of the road yelling at the passing traffic.

In 1948 there was a movie, “The Snake Pit” that highlighted the sordid side of mental institutions. It went a long way in promoting change in the laws concrning involutary housing of mental patients. The eventual constitutional rights case my brother and I discussed followed that evolutionary path. “Enlightenment” at the time meant that not all mental patients belonged in asylums; especially on an involuntary basis. Sadly, all the good intentions are worthless if mental health treatment is not only not available in the commun ity but also cannot be made mandatory. Ranting and raving, living hand to mouth on the streets, being subject to abuse and spiraling into deeper mental illness is the opposite extreme to the Snake Pit. There is a need for the money and effort to treat and protect the vulnerable. There is a need to bolster mental health laws that not only protects against wrongful admission to institutions but insures “no ifs ands or buts” treatment. Some might argue that it is not mean/cruel to ban living on the street and put some teeth in mandated treament for mental patients in need.

JANUARY 6, 2022

I grew up with certain dates swirling about in my mind. I always had an affinity for history. For whatever reasons, certain dates stuck with me. Today, January 6th, for example was the Epiphany; a significant date for Eastern Christians. It was duly noted in our prayer book. US historic dates for me included June 6, 1944…D-Day a good start towards the end of you know who; Flag Day on June 14th (Need I mention the Wisconsin connection?); July 4, 1776 of course; July 20,1969 actually viewing the landing on the moon; August 6, 1945 as the horrific day of Hiroshima; September 11, 2001; September 17 (No not as the day after someone important’s birthday)….rather in 1787 when the US Constitution was adopted; November 22, 1963 when we lost JFK; and of course December 7, 1941 as the Day of Infamy.

Although not specific to America the year of 1215 was of great eventual impact in our country, Magna Carta. In a way it started us on the path to liberty.

We all have had dates that are imprinted in our memory. You will also. I don’t know what yours will be but it will not be the dates alone that stick. It will be the significance of what happened on the date. As I write this, some forces want today’s date to always mark what is described as the insurrection of 2021. Some claim 1/6/2021 was as significant as earlier historic events; such as 9/11 or Pearl Harbor. True or political hyperbole? As I always say, use your own noggin. America has a long history of violent protests and riots. There are plenty of facts for you to sort through of what was or was not an actual rebellion.

Papa believes that the Civil War was our greatest insurrection. I do recognize that some may argue for Shay’s Rebellion (1786-7) because of its impact on adopting the US Constitution. (Which I also include because its last battle happened near Nana’s hometown.)

Last night I was reading; trying to stay awake until midnight. I think I dosed. Suddenly, I was jolted by the sound of fireworks. In the Wisconsin of my youth fireworks were not a part of New Year’s Eve celebrations. Most Badgers remain indoors during winter. I had only witnessed an explosive New Year’s Eve once before relocating to Oregon. Oregon is a state that has a fascination with excessive foreworks. Only July 4th outdoes December 31st. Alert to the intrusion, I watched the sky burst with colors for ten or fifteen minutes. The noise forestalled further slumber. HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Gazing out my window brought to mind a second imprinted memory of Vietnam. December 31st was the date I was to board a “Freedom Bird” to come home. I can’t recall the exact details but the flight was scheduled for a late night take off. Naturally, I was counting the seconds until starting the journey home to my family. Then there was an announcement of a delay. Not a welcome development. However, concern over a substantial delay was soon alleviated. I saw flashes of explosives lighting up the sky surrounding the air base. The sounds of explosions clapped closeby/. The delay would be short; only long enough to insure it was safe to fly out in clean air space.

No, it was not an enemy attack. It was a celebration. Mostly flares I assume but there were some sounds suspiciously like small arms fire. Perhaps fueled by hope the celebration lasted longer then the short barrage by Oregonians last night. But, comforted with a firm “better safe than sorry” attitude, it was easy for me to wait for a 1972 takeoff. I believe it was close to 2 A.M. before we left Vietnam. All that mattered was that I was headed home amd happy for the new year. I brought along hope that blessings would be bestowed on my family.

When the eastern sky cleared last night, I smiled at the memories brought back to me from so many years ago. Hope for 2022 sounds good. You never know what the next year will bring. Although not needed I did receive a consolation prize in 1972. I was given an extra month of combat pay for the few hours of inconvienience. January 1972 was a full “in country” pay month for Papa because of a late take off.