Veterans for Trump: The Death of Honor

Canvassing in York County today I said hello to a veteran wearing a cap with Vietnam service and campaign ribbons.  Since my canvassing list was only democrats, I assumed he was a Republican. I said hello because we were the only two people outside for as far as I could see on the very straight street.

We talked civilly for a few minutes. He told me he enlisted in the Army reserve in 1970, served six years in the United States and left the military.  "I should've stayed," he said.  I told him I enlisted in 1972 and served until 1985, getting out and re-enlisting twice, then re-enlisted once more in 2007 and went to Iraq.  

I told him I never got closer to Vietnam than Utah during the war.  He made clear he was a Vietnam-era veteran.  

Shortly after he asked if I lived in the neighborhood. I said no. I live in Lancaster and was canvassing for Janelle Stelson for Congress. He said, "Don't try to tell me to vote for a democrat! I'll never vote for a democrat."

I told him I was only going to democrats and just said hello because we were both veterans.  He then went from smoldering anger (I assume a usual state given his demeanor.) to lecture mode.  "Stelson doesn't live here. Perry does. I'm voting for Perry. And Harris let in all those migrants. The country is overrun."

I waved and wished him a nice day.  "We won't have a country if Harris wins. Too woke!" he said to my back.  

When I told another veteran about the encounter he knew right away what was wrong.  Both of us served during the Vietnam War but not in the war. We are careful to say that.  The grumpy veteran's hat said something very different. It says Vietnam service.  Of course, inflating one's service record is as common as fisherman talking about "the one that got away." When I was first in the military, lying was stunning.

For me, another effect of Trump was to make draft dodging and this sort of mendacity normal. Fifty years ago, that veteran would have been ashamed to claim war service. Honor would have prevented him.  

Dishonor is the default when a bragging coward like Trump is the head of a party.  

In 2016 I saw draft dodgers become defiant now that they had a coward who bragged about draft dodging as their leader. 

Veteran of Iraq, Afghanistan to Retire on September 11

 

Master Sgt.Pamela Bleuel (left) in Afghanistan

In July 2009 I was pushing my bike toward a gap in the blast wall on Camp Adder, Iraq.  I lived in a trailer on the other side of that wall. A soldier wearing a bandana over her nose and mouth walked toward me and asked why the hell anyone would ride a bike in wind like this.  

I don't remember my answer, but Pamela Bleuel and I started talking about being old soldiers who enlisted late and had three college-age daughters back home.  She was 43 at the time, I was 56.  

Now she's 56, a master sergeant, and retiring on Saturday, September 11.  She enlisted in the year 2000 at age 35 to pay off her student loans.  She is a math teacher.  She liked the army a lot more than she expected, became a drill sergeant and when I met her was training troops in convoy security on Camp Adder.  She wanted to be convoy security but the rules at the time did not let her. She stayed in Iraq for two tours, then was in Afghanistan five years later. 

I visited Pam in her home in Kentucky in 2010 and 2014 and was thinking I would be visiting again this year, but plans changed. Maybe next year. I wrote about Pam when I was in Iraq in 2009.  Here's the story:

"I'd rather be digging a damn ditch than sitting on my ass in an air-conditioned office pushing FRAGOs (Fragmentary Orders)." That was one of the first things Staff Sergeant Pamela Allen Bleuel said to me when I met her walking across on open area in a sandstorm. She is a cheerful, imposing, funny woman of 43 who joined the Army Reserves on a whim just before 9/11 and now has an intense love-hate relationship with life in camouflage.

Until last month SSG Bleuel was the sergeant in charge of the convoy training school here on Camp Adder. She taught troops how to drive and fight in convoys and how to best use the ungainly MRAP fighting vehicles that are now the standard troop carrier across Iraq. She loved convoy training and did not mind when her tour was extended. When she did the unit she went to decided her training as a military police officer would be best used processing FRAGOs--the daily changes to orders that bubble through the military system day and night.

Bleuel loves being outside, moving troops, and has no desire to sit in air conditioning, but she will do the job as well as she can until the end of her extended tour. 

She joined the reserves in 2000 at age 35 with no prior military experience at all, because she saw two soldiers hanging up a sign in the small town in Kentucky where she lives. The sign said the Army would repay student loans for reserve soldiers. She had three daughters between 8 and 13 years old at the time, taught math at the local high school and had $30,000 in student loans. She signed up. She went off to basic at the end of the school year, trying to fit basic and advanced training into the summer break. Training did not quite fit her school schedule and she was just about done with training when the 9-11 attacks hit.

At that point she just wanted to serve and was jealous of the regular Army soldiers who were whisked away to airborne schools and other assignments. She served as an MP until 2004 when she trained to be a drill sergeant. Every summer after that she would "push troops" through Fort Knox, Kentucky, during the 11-week summer break at her school district. Her experience as a drill sergeant and an MP lead her to convoy training here in Iraq.

 
Now she is ready to go back to being a drill sergeant part time and a full time teacher. "Each year it gets easier to go back to pushing troops and harder to teach school," she said. "It's not the kids. It's the damn parents." She then gave her version of the teacher's lament that parents call her, email her, come to school to say their little child is special. "In the Army you don't deal with that. Mom doesn't call basic training," she said.

 
She also likes the structure and clarity of Army life, at least in training. "We have a goal; get the trainees ready to be soldiers." She also likes the deference of soldiers when compared to civilians. "When I get back from Knox and I am in a crowd at Wal-Mart, I wish I could yell 'Make a hole' and have everybody get out of my way."

 
Bleuel's wall is covered with pictures of her three children. She is very proud of them--even the one who, "Is a liberal and wants to save the whole damn world. She voted for Obama. We don't talk about politics." Bleuel is somewhere to the right of Oliver North politically and hates everything about France, which is a double layer of irony given her name.

 At age 43 she has eight years of service and will have to decide soon whether she will make the Army a career or not. I'm guessing she will. The look she has in her eyes when she talks about basic training and convoy ops is not there when she talks about Algebra 2.

 

Talking to Amtrak Conductor About Late-Life Enlistment, Loving the Cold War Army

 

Many Amtrak conductors and other rail workers are veterans. Over the past quarter century of commuting to Philadelphia on Amtrak, I got to know many veterans. The most recent is a conductor named Darrell I have only got to know in the past year. I still go to Philadelphia every week. 

Darrell is a conductor on the 9:33am train. That train always runs to Philadelphia with the engine in the back of the train and the cab car up front. Until recently, Darrell’s crew did not let passengers use the cab car, leaving it for crew with nearly empty trains. But Darrell let me ride in the cab car knowing I was a long-time rider. A couple of weeks ago, Darrell and I talked about being in the Army. 

He asked me about my backpack, surprised I would have gear from a recent war. I told him I deployed to Iraq in 2009-10. We got into a long conversation about how I got back in and deployed at 56 years old. Darrell served four years from 1988-92. He served in Germany for right at the end of the Cold War and during the Gulf War sending supplies to Kuwait and Iraq. He said it was the best four years of his life. Then we talked about friends from Cold War service. 

I told him I was going to Europe to visit my roommate from the late 70s in Cold War Germany. Darrell is meeting some of his friends from the Army later this summer. Darrell said he got out, had kids and didn’t think he could ever go back in. He is more than a decade younger than I am and was thinking if I could do it, he could have.

The Army returned the enlistment age to the traditional 35 years in 2009, so the window has closed on older soldiers returning to service.  

Now Darrell and I are two old soldiers riding the train who can say with the crew of "Fury" that being a soldiers was "The best job I ever had."

Who Fights Our War? Veteran of the Tet Offensive in 1968 Working Security at Kennedy Airport

The Tet Offensive in 1968 was the beginning 

of the end of the War in Vietnam

This afternoon I checked in for a flight to Paris on IcelandAir.  Checking in for boarding took a while because of COVID documents, but once I had a boarding pass, there was almost no line for security.

When I approached the screening area, I told the guy at the metal detector that I would need the alternative screening.  I said,"I have metal here, here and here" pointing to my neck, left knee and left elbow.  James, the TSA screener, said "Go ahead and try anyway." I did. The alarm sounded and I waited for the technician to check me. After I put my arms over my head in the plexiglass booth, James came over to do the pat down. The technician was a woman and could not do the hands-on check. 

When James walked over I held my arms out straight to my sides.  He said, "You don't need to do that, you're not an airplane."

'And you are a native New Yorker,' I thought.  

Then he said, "You got metal all over the place, was it shrapnel from a war?" 

"As a matter of fact, in 1973......"

"No way," he said. "You were in 'Nam? I was there during the Tet Offensive. '68. Radio man." 

"I managed to get blinded by shrapnel in a missile explosion in America," I said.  "Live fire test."

"That sucks," he said. "No Purple Heart, right?"

"Right?" I said.  Then I told him about my fingers hanging off and getting re-attached.  With professional curiosity and gloved hands, he checked the first fingers on my right hand.

He then told me about his communications site being surrounded, then the North Vietnamese went around his bunker and moved on. "I was sure I was dead," James said.  

We fist bumped then waved as he went back to the check-in line.  

I have talked to many TSA agents who were Iraq and Afghanistan veterans. I don't remember a lot of Vietnam War veterans.  Certainly not recently.  But it was fun to talk with him.  

One Last Haircut: World War II Vet Shares a Story After Forty Years

Elias King learned to cut hair while serving as a gunner’s mate on a destroyer in the Pacific during World War II.  When I met him in 1982, he was planning to retire and sell his barbershop.  After getting my hair cut a couple of times in his shop, I could not believe Elias would ever retire. In the days before talk radio, he was the local source for the true conservatives that were the core clientele of his shop. 

He was loud and funny and had opinions that the John Birch Society might think were too far right.  He did not think women should work outside the home unless they were widows and their families abandoned them.  For Elias, the Soviet Union was the enemy, forever. America needed to stop them everywhere. 

I got a hair cut there once a month just before my Army Reserve weekends.  I was close to thirty years old at the time, and by age, any of the customers and barbers could have been my Dad.  Elias liked me because I served during the Vietnam War, then Cold War West Germany and was a tank commander in the Army Reserve. “Too many young cowards won’t serve the country anymore,” he said.

King was against divorce and sex outside marriage in any way, especially any gay way.  He was against welfare, government programs, government regulations, and he knew the federal income tax would destroy the country.  But he was also self-deprecating and funny when he stepped off his conservative soapbox. 

In May 1984, I came in for a haircut just before the shop closed.  I told Elias it would be my last haircut for a while because I was leaving the Army Reserve.  I did not tell him I was going to grow a beard and let my hair grow out. He was about to close up, which he did promptly at six because, “Mother (his wife) has dinner ready.” But he stayed to give me the haircut.

He told the other barber he could go. It was just Elias and me. Before he started cutting my hair he turned the barber chair so it faced away from the mirror instead of toward it. He was talking, but I could not see his face. He had never talked about the war before, but today he started talking about fighting off air attacks at Leyte Gulf and what it was like when his ship got hit.  But then he abruptly switched to talking about a long Pacific cruise to visit liberated allied ports just after the end of the war.

“I do believe the things I say about marriage,” he said. “But that cruise was, it was, well, the best days of my life.”

He said they stopped at Singapore and “Mamasan was waiting at the bottom of the gangway. She had a baby on her back and would suck your dick for four bits (50 cents).” He described wild sex with women across Asia. “I love the wife, but even when she was young, she was not…” he stopped talking. The scissors stopped.  “I never strayed once, young fella,” he said.  “Near forty years, I still think about that cruise.”

After he finished my haircut he started sweeping up. I took out my wallet. He waved me off. I thanked him. It was years before I saw him again. He was retired by then. I saw him outside the shop. I stopped and said hello, but am not quite sure he recognized me.  I liked Elias King.  He died a few years ago. There was a big obituary about him in his local paper. It mentioned his war service and the victory cruise after the war. “…the best days of my life,” said the young gunner’s mate who learned how to cut hair.

[Elias King is a pseudonym]

New Writing By Recent Veterans

Just got this in my email.  Free book available by PDF download.  Writing by recent veterans of America's wars.  Check it out here.

Enjoy!!