And There I Was #13 A Lighter Convoy

 And There I Was # 13

A Lighter Convoy

“Excuse me, Captain, may I speak with you please?”

I turned around to see an Otero County Sheriff, complete with mirrored shades standing there looking concerned. “Yes, Sheriff. What do you need,” I replied concern growing? 

“Well, Captain. I was wondering if you could come with me.” My signal company was supporting Operation Roving Sands, a multi-national Air Defense Artillery exercise in central New Mexico. I had pestered my BN CDR, LTC Wendell McKowen, for the off-post deployment. I had wanted a chance to move my company by rail and convoy from Fort Hood to Fort Bliss. Supporting such a large exercise would stress my company quite a bit. Even though we’d spent quite a bit of time in the field at Fort Hood, we all knew the post quite well, and operating in a different environment would be good for us. Also, getting my company to and from Fort Bliss would make us learn new skills in rail-loading and integration with foreign forces. Eventually, he’d acquiesced and assigned us the mission. My 1SG and I went to Fort Bliss to meet with the other units to hash out the support relationships. 

During the meetings, we both developed concerns for certain aspects of the support arrangements. The field feeding plans seemed a bit weak, especially since my company would be spread out from Fort Bliss in Texas to the northern end of White Sands Missel Range all the way up in New Mexico. All the associated units wanted to do the right thing. We just felt that they had not done their homework. When we presented the maintenance unit with our list of vehicles, they were quite surprised. At any rate, upon our return to Fort Hood, I button-holed LTC McKowen for permission to add a field feeding and maintenance section to my deployment package. Mildly amused, he agreed but required that I make arrangements to sign for an MKT from a Fort Bliss unit. A series of phone-calls later and the arrangements were made. Once on the ground, the small mess section would sign for an MKT and I would take them up to the north end of the missile range where they would provide hot chow for the Signal Team there. So far, the plan had unfolded as I hoped.

We’d railed a Mess-Section duce to Fort Bliss, linked up with a sister Signal unit, and signed for a complete MKT. Signing for the MKT took quite some time…there are a lot of bits and pieces to an MKT. Drawing rations was a bit of an adventure (See #6); however, we managed to get the rations, the cooks, and the equipment all together in the same place. Early in the morning, my small two-vehicle convoy pulled out from Fort Bliss headed for Stallion Army Airfield at the north end of the White Sands Missile Range, a drive of about one-hundred-fifty miles or so. After an hour and a half or so, we trundled into Tularosa, a small dusty town about halfway there. I placed SPC Milmoe and SPC Jenkins and their duce in a parking lot across from the elementary school and told them to wait right there. Having been to this area of New Mexico before, I knew of a good place to get breakfast burritos and coffee. And that is where I was when the Sheriff found me.

Concerned, I returned to my HMMWV and instructed SPC Lilly to follow the Sheriff. Tularosa is not very large, so the trip did not take too long. In fact, thankfully, we returned to the place where I’d left the two Specialists, the duce, and the MKT, all of which were where I’d left them. The sheriff parked across the street out of sight and motioned for me to come over to his cruiser. I complied and without a word, he pointed across the street. 

There was SPC Milmoe. He’d shed his BDU top, donned some mirrored aviator shades, was wearing his flack-vest, had draped two belts of 7.62 blank ammunition across his chest, and was parading around with the M-60, doing his best imitation of Rambo. Meanwhile, SPC Jenkins had dug out some foil and cardboard from the back of the duce and constructed a tanning aid. She’d also shed her BDU top and was reclining on the hood of the duce, catching some rays. The Sheriff then pointed across the street to the elementary school, where all the kids were lined up at the fence ogling my two soldiers.

“Now Captain, far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, but I kinda don’t think that’s the best use of their time,” he drawled. Then smiling, he climbed back into his cruiser and drove off, leaving me to deal with my two soldiers. After SPC Lilly and I laughed and rolled our eyes. I went and squared away my troops…at least for a few minutes…passed out coffee and breakfast burritos and headed off to finish our convoy. The exercise turned out very well. We all learned a lot, and no one died. This was not the end of SPC Milmoe’s story.

And There I Was # 12

 And There I was # 12

Not All Lives are Lost in Combat

Dirt and gravel sprayed up in a perfect arc as the five-ton bridge hauler (M-945) plowed into the bar-ditch. The passenger side front wheel collapsed, the bumper dug in, and the entire truck and bridge component it was carrying slow-rolled grinding the canvass toped cab into the dirt as BII and other debris scattered across the central Texas landscape. Horrified, I braked, downshifted, and scrunched to a halt enveloped in a cloud of dust. A couple of other convoy vehicles, unable to slow down quickly enough, rushed past and pulled over. We all pelted to the hulking wreck hoping for the best as a lime green Ford Escort exited the Interstate and disappeared down the access road.

Convoy operations consumed much of the training schedule in the early and mid-eighties. Of course as a SPC, I did not give it much thought. By now, I’d figured out that if I showed up at the right place, at the right time, in the right uniform, and did what I was told, life was good. It seemed as if our commander had a special love of convoys. Every post FTX involved driving around the impact area of Fort Hood, and we were always moving equipment from one place to another. I often wondered how much heavy engineer equipment the Army actually had. Sometimes it was a short trip up to a MATES facility to borrow or store some odd piece of equipment.

I always enjoyed trips to the MATES facility. In the early eighties, all of the men who worked there were ancient crusty NCOs or Warrants; many of which I was convinced had ridden with General “Blackjack” Pershing. They were not above yanking your chain or sending you on a wild-goose chase (I still haven’t found frequency grease). But, if you were patient, they eventually finished their war story and provided one with excellent information…sometimes it was even about military equipment still in the inventory. Periodically we trekked out to a Texas Army National Guard Armory to deliver some bit of heavy equipment. I found the number of Armories Texas had tucked away in small towns amazing. 

So there we were, running up to an Armory in Abilene, northwest central Texas for those who care. A new lieutenant led this convoy. A recent arrival to the battalion, he worked in the S-3 (operations section) while waiting for a platoon leader slot to open up. As an officer, he occupied a position far removed from my day-to-day existence or realm of care. He was there in the motor pool before duty call, calmly oversaw the lineup of the small convoy, quickly inspected the vehicles, and gave an appropriate safety briefing. He then turned the speaking over to SFC Williams, the Convoy NCOIC. We all knew SFC Williams as one of the more capable NCOs in the battalion. He was a grizzled old hand and gave us a thorough briefing on the convoy route and procedures, handing out strip maps. As a junior soldier, I was assigned an aging duce and a half carrying an assortment of rations and spare parts the motor warrant thought we might need. I should have paid attention to the strip map; but knew that I was to follow the five-ton, which was even slower than my old duce. I figured as long as I kept up with the five-ton all would be well. After he finished, SFC Williams turned to the lieutenant and asked if he had anything else to say. I noted that SFC Williams nodded appreciatively when the LT replied, “Not really, just be safe out there and let’s mount up and get on the road.”

We all knew that the SFC was training the LT. He had carefully walked him through all what would take place the day before, made sure he knew what to say, and would report back to the CSM concerning his LTs performance. Our battalion was a good one. The old soldiers brought the new ones…me included…along with very little fanfare. The CDR and CSM were in charge without being overbearing about it. We worked hard, played hard, and took our lumps when required. It was an excellent place to be a young troop.

Several droning hours later, we were somewhere north and west of Fort Hood. The convoy had proceeded with nothing unusual. We took the occasional smoke break, during which the LT and the SFC walked up and down the line, checking on vehicles and drivers. We stopped for lunch, ate C-Rations, and griped. I’d been introduced to MREs in basic at Fort Leonard-Wood, but we were still working the C-Rats out of the inventory at the 111th. After policing up our trash, we moved out again. The OD vehicles slowly ate up the miles. 

One hazard we all understood was civilian drivers. Big heavy military trucks do not stop quickly, something about the laws of physics. Civilians often wove in and out of convoys trying to make an exit, ignoring the big yellow and black “convoy ahead” or “convoy follows” signs. Everyone had convoy stories to tell about some bone-headed civilian hitting the breaks. So, it did not surprise me when the bright green Ford Escort appeared in my mirror, weaving in and out of the convoy. I understood their frustration and impatience trying to get past the slow-moving line of military vehicles. But I also knew that they did not appreciate how long it takes to slow something that big and heavy down.

Eventually, they worked their way up to the space between me and the five-ton. I backed off a bit, giving myself a bit of space. Sure enough, when they thought they were clear, they darted out and headed around the lumbering bridge truck. They must not have realized how close to their exit they were. Suddenly they swerved back in front of the bridge truck, slammed on their brakes, and aimed for the fast-approaching exit. At this point, the laws of physics took over.

Smoke roiled as the five-ton driver stood on his brakes, but there was no way to avoid crushing the little car. Then he turned toward the bar-ditch, hoping to avoid the Ford. He managed to not hit the small car, at the cost of the five-ton, his life, as well as that of his TC’s. We ran up to the pinging wreck and around to the front. The crushed blood-smeared cab spoke eloquently of two lives lost. There was nothing to be done. All the weight of the truck and bridge and ground out two lives as surely as I ground out cigarette buts on the roadside. 

Later I felt badly for the LT and SFC. They’d done everything right. This was not their fault and no one blamed them…but they blamed themselves. Oh, they got past it of course. But those sorts of things leave a mark. They went on with their careers. I have no idea what happened to them. SFC Williams surely became an MSG, probably a CSM. The LT probably made CPT; however, this was a day none of us would forget. The Army is a tough place and at times a very dangerous place, even when you do the right thing. 

A Prayer For Our Nation

 A prayer for our nation:

Dear Lord, creator of all that we know and understand as this universe and ruler of here and beyond,

We come before you acknowledging our own weakness and failure. We’ve loved too much and too little…to much the things of this world that enthrall us and too little your children who we let languish in pain and suffering. We’ve squandered the great resources and beauty of your creation merely satiating our own lusts. You’ve given us so much and we simply grasp for more.

Please grant us leaders that pursue truth and justice, motivated by kindness, mercy, love, and compassion. Tamp down our partisan passions and fan into flame our passion to bind up the weak, care for the sick and halt, protect the widow and orphan, feed the hungry, and shelter the homeless and indigent. Let us be known as those who welcome the sojourner with open hearts and open hands.

As we avidly seek your forgiveness. And in a like manner, birth in us a readiness to forgive others, remembering our own desperate need for grace and mercy. Let us be thankful for all the blessings you freely bestow, without regard to our own inept and bungling efforts to understand and reflect you. Thank you for not giving us what we deserve, which is wrath and punishment. And give us the strength to extend forgiveness and patience without stinting.

Help us to lay aside prejudice, that overweening pride that assumes we know the other person. Teach us to truly listen. Each of us have a story and we need to learn to listen to and come to know and start to love one another. Let us come to that place where we evaluate each other not on exteriors drapements, but on interior structures. You look into our hearts, help us look into each others’ hearts. 

Help us to grow in humility, remembering that we know so little and our way is not the only way and our ideas not the sole font of wisdom. Father, we need patience, patience with each other and patience with you for in so many ways we do not understand who you are and what you truly desire. Incline our hearts toward you and let us hunger for you and the things you desire. 

Lord God, you created such a marvelous world and have in your graciousness granted our nation vast natural resources, yet we so often use them only to satiate our craven desires. Let your Holy Spirit teach us to walk lightly, to use your gifts to help others, to be those careful stewards of these things that actually belong to you. 

You are great, mighty, and holy. We are insignificant, weak, and fallen. We are astounded that you would take notice of us, desire us, and work so hard to save us. Thank you.

In the name of Jesus, we offer this prayer,

Amen. 

June 'Teenth

 June ‘Teenth

Today, we as a nation celebrate June ‘Teenth together for the first time. It has been a long time coming and is but one of the many steps we must take on our corporate journey towards a more just society. While no one living owned slaves, many of us have profited from a tacit system that has not, and sadly often still does not fully recognize the inherent rights of the individual. We must gird up our intellectual loins and take a bracing look in the mirror. Every generation must pick up the banner and join in the fight for a just society, one in which the individual is weighed not on the color of their skin, but instead on the quality of their character. So we celebrate June ‘Teenth joyfully and soberly; joyfully in the recognition of a bold step once taken and soberly in the realization of the bold steps left to take. 

Diversity in the Military

  Those that choose life in the Army choose life in a crucible. Long hours, physically demanding labor, periodic relocations, frequent deployments, mentally challenging tasks, and combat combine to make a uniquely difficult, yet rewarding, lifestyle. Those that surmount these trials find a singularly close-knit community replete with tight, life-long, bonds. Enduring the stresses and trials of the crucible produces individuals of great strength and an immense capacity for loyalty. But prejudice and associated traits corrode the amalgam produced through life in the intense crucible.

One of the first acts of embarking on life in the military is taking the following oath:

“I Matthew E. Robinson, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic, and that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice, so help me God.”

The oath for officers is quite similar:

"I Matthew E. Robinson, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.

Over the course of my career, I took both oaths. It is important to note that both officers and enlisted first swear to support and defend the Constitution. We take the charge to embrace a body of ideas. Now, I must admit that when I first took the oath as a young private, I did not seriously consider the import of those words and ideals expressed in the Constitution and other important foundational documents. I was young, thoughtless, and immature. I wanted the bonus associated with my enlistment to purchase a truck; however, as the years passed and I advanced in rank, my responsibility grew and so did my understanding of the importance of those words and associated ideals.

As the Army and other branches take on the task of combating prejudice in all its forms, some decry the campaign as a wrongheaded assault on a target of dubious worth. They assert that efforts to ensure that the Army is a diverse force free from prejudice and representative of the nation as a whole will erode its effectiveness as a fighting force. As a twenty-seven-year veteran with multiple combat and operational assignments, I must disagree. The success of the Army depends upon trust, trust that the soldier on your right and left will do the right thing and will not cut and run when things get tough, or the rounds start going back and forth in earnest. Any kind of prejudice, bigotry, or partiality elides such trust. Long ago, the United States embarked upon this great experiment of making one out of many through democratic processes. This is a messy, difficult experiment but well worth the effort. And, due to human nature, one that requires constant attention. We build our Army out of individuals from across the nation, bringing in recruits from all stations of life. As the force of a pluralistic nation, we accept individuals regardless of race, sex, or creed. Consequently, they bring with them all their preconceived ideas regarding how we treat one another. The military must take on the task of ensuring that they willingly divest themselves of those behaviors and ideas that are not congruent with the constitution or conducive to military life. 

       Embracing diversity and inclusion brings its own set of challenges and problems. We often find the unknown threatening. But we have built our military on embracing those noble ideals, and it is these ideals that build a cohesive, unified force. Ideals that all are created equal, that those who wish to strive, and work can excel despite their background, that those of different races and creeds can work together for a common larger goal. These ideals spring from our foundational documents and make a military worth serving in and worth representing all that is best in our nation. As a military must continually recruit and develop leaders, so we must also continually train to ensure that those in the ranks not only are possessed of great physical strength, intelligence, and stamina and that they also embrace these ideals as the intellectual and moral underpinning of our military strength. Those that refuse to accept such ideals cannot adequately represent our nation and must exit the ranks. To allow those who continually harbor prejudice of any type in the ranks destroys trust. This training effort requires a clear-eyed stringent self-examination. Such introspection often uncovers deep, unseen, problems that take great effort to unseat; however, such work pays great dividends. Those willing to shed prejudicial attitudes find life in the military community highly rewarding. They also find that this sense of solidarity carries them through the taxing situations that accompany life in the Army.

       We demand much from our service-members. The work is hard, often dangerous, frequently in uncomfortable situations, and often life-threatening, even in training. They deserve to serve in a work environment that does not subject them to the deprivations of bigotry in any form. They represent the best of our nation and have sworn to uphold the ideals found in our constitution and other foundational documents. This oath guides their lives and governs their behaviors. Continual training and self-examination are part of the processes that ensure that our military members comport themselves according to the principles that make our nation great. We need not fear such introspection and training. It only makes our Army stronger, more cohesive. It also spills over into the civilian community when service members eventually hang up their uniforms and return to civilian life better understanding those things that make our nation great. 

Memorial Day 2021

  Here in Lubbock, a steady rain drifts down on a gray Memorial Day. For many, this weather fits the occasion. They grapple with the loss of loved ones, men and women that gave their all, in service of their country. Some lose their lives in the fiery cauldron that is an IED. Others and the murderous hail of small arms fire. And others, more than we know, lose their struggle against the demons of memory that stalk in the dark night, succumbing to a relentless tearing at the fabric of their sanity. We should remember and honor them. 

Honoring them means more than flying or planting a flag. It means living up to the ideals laid out in our foundational documents, freedom, equality, and justice to name three. We honor those who fell when we too sacrifice for these ideals. We honor them when we actively pursue truth and justice. We honor them when we let kindness, mercy, and love be our motivations. We honor them when we tamp down the fires of partisanship and stoke the passions of liberty, equality, and fairness. In some form or fashion, they gave their all, in pursuit of these noble goals. Let us to pick up the banner, so recently fallen from their hands, and expand the frontiers of these noble ideals. But there is more to honoring the fallen.

Let us redouble our efforts to ensure that when we send out our blood and treasure that we send them out for the right reasons. We should not engage in armed conflict for frivolous and transient goals. Armed conflict is an endeavor fraught with peril, physical, emotional, and spiritual, and those engaged in such a mortal struggle do not emerge unscathed. When we choose leaders, let them be sober men and women who think carefully before we take that grave step. Let us not choose leaders that recklessly brandish the weapon that is American military might. That is how we honor the fallen.

So, let us not forget the lessons of Memorial Day. Let us remember and honor the fallen when we consider how to treat our fellow citizens. Let us remember and honor them when we go to the ballot box and choose leaders that make wise and just decisions. Let us remember and honor them by expanding equality and justice across the face of our great nation, living up to the ideas for which they gave their utmost.

Falsely Crying Fire

Recently several social media platforms decided to either curtail or limit former President Trump’s access to their media, resulting in discussions centering on freedom of speech, a long-cherished civil right in our country. I’ve read and listened to some of these discussions, trying to avoid the most vitriolic. No matter which side one takes on this, these events make one stop and ponder several issues; freedom of speech, personal responsibility, corporate responsibility, and adherence to truth. Many decry the actions of these platforms as anti-freedom of speech. But what does the first amendment guarantee?

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

It does protect us from government overreach. Taken in its simple rendering, the former president has suffered no violation of his first amendment protections. Of course, nothing is so simple; however, we ought to think about this. The first amendment protects me from government limitations. It does not guarantee me a platform. Social media companies are not required to provide me access. In fact, when setting up an account, I must agree to their stipulations, a part of the process most of us skip through without a thought. When was the last time any of us took the time to read through the legalese before checking the “I Agree” box or radial button? The point is social media platforms are businesses and exist in order to make a profit for their owners, investors, advertisers, or other interested parties. If my postings fall outside the parameters they set up or have a corrosive effect on their business model, they have every right, or responsibility to their investors, to cancel my access. I still enjoy the freedom to speak, just not in their venue. My handling of the truth must certainly play a role in their decision.

Do I have the right to lie with impunity in the public square? In the 1919 Supreme Court case, Schenck v. United States, Justice Holmes wrote, “The most stringent protection of free speech would not protect a man in falsely shouting fire in a theatre and causing a panic.” Interestingly, this was a problem in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Thoughtless individuals would do cry fire when there was none and then enjoy the ensuing chaos. In both the United States and Great Britain, hundreds died in such instances.1 Perhaps, we might take a similar view of those that continually spread demonstrable falsehood in public forums. When I continually sow discord among my fellow citizens, I exert a corrosive effect on the functioning of society. This is analogous to falsely crying fire in the theater of our nation. We saw the effects of this January the sixth, a day in which five of our fellow citizens lost their lives. If I continually bear false witness in such a way as to encourage such disruptive behavior, do I not bear some portion of the blame? With every right comes responsibility.

I am responsible for my actions when driving my truck. Should I operate my vehicle recklessly and injure or kill someone, I must pay the penalty. As a teacher, I’m responsible for the things that I say in my classroom. If I engage in irresponsible speech, then I’m liable to lose my job. As an officer in the Army, I was responsible for the words that I uttered and my actions or inactions. Should I engage in careless speech or activities or fail to say or do the appropriate thing then my status as an officer was forfeit. I enjoy many privileges and protections based on my responsible use of those privileges. Perhaps, those of us given to continual prevarication act too thoughtlessly and should account for our behaviors. After all, when we engage in the sharing of falsehood, especially when that falsehood contributes to unrest in society, should we not lose the privilege of a platform from which we broadcast our untruth. 

I have seen friends brag about posting things that were flagged as untrue. What has led us to consider being marked as one who fabricates a badge of honor? To simply say, “time will prove me out,” is not a valid defense. While we may revel in our status as an “edgy” person, in truth we are among those who call black, white, day, night, and up, down. We do not aid in the betterment of society through such shenanigans. Instead, we contribute to moral decay. While I certainly support the right to free speech, I also support society’s, and social media platforms, right to hold those who lie accountable. Continued functioning of a society requires a shared understanding of reality…truth.

At the core of this issue is truth. We must embrace truth, even when it does not conform to our desired result. I have voted for more than one candidate that lost the election. When faced with that disappointment, I must possess enough intestinal fortitude and moral courage to admit defeat and engage in the introspection required. No matter our feelings, society needs those who look at truth unflinchingly. When we see the dark hand of conspiracy behind every setback or loss, we cannot make rational decisions. Society only functions well when its members willingly speak and share truth. When we claim our desired outcome was stolen by a hidden cabal, we cannot move forward and solve the very real problems we face. The hidden cabal may soothe our bruised egos, but they do precious little to develop executable solutions to the challenges of the day. The longer we loiter in the darkness of conspiracy, the longer it will take for us to find true solutions and move forward as a nation. 

1. "Shouting 'Fire' in a Theater": The Life and Times of Constitutional Law's Most Enduring Analogy Carlton F.W. Larson, William & Mary Bill of Rights Journal Volume 24 (2015-2016) Issue 1