How I Would Have Died--If I Lived 100 Years Ago, Motorcycle Accident

On a Tuesday in June 1980 I ran from my desk at the Elizabethtown Chronicle to my 550 Suzuki motorcycle parked out back. I was running late for class on the second day of the summer trimester at Penn State's campus in Harrisburg, Pa. I could cover the 12-mile distance in 10 minutes, park close, run up the stairs and be on time.

It was mid morning and Route 230 was clear of traffic. I went over the hill and down into an S turn, which was followed by a flat stretch for three miles.  In the middle of taking the S at 75 mph (speed limit 55mph) the handlebars started a rapid, back and forth wobble called a “tank slapper” by motorcyclists. I have long arms and had once overcome the wobble  by snapping my arms straight.

My snap must have been off that day. The front wheel grabbed the pavement while turned all the way to the right. The bike launched into the air, back wheel first. The bike and I flipped and rolled across the center of the road and into the ditch nearly 100 yards away.  

I felt no pain. It was a beautiful summer morning. At first, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Then I looked down. I was on my back and covered in dirt and blood. I'd crashed in front of a house that was being painted. One of the painters ran up and asked if I was okay.  He covered me with a drop cloth and yelled for someone to call an ambulance. In the narrow clarity of shock, I told the painter I needed to get up and walk around or I would be stiff in the morning. He said, “You just stay where you are, son. Help is coming.”  

After the flip, I hit face down on the road. The main impact points were  knees and  face. I suppose because of my boots, both knees hit on the left side and the road scraped away so much skin that I could see the ligaments. I did not see my helmet until after my two-week hospital stay, but the full-coverage helmet had grooves scraped in the chin bar and above the visor. After surgery on both knees and some very painful rehab, I was released from the hospital two weeks later and went back to class. I got good marks and sympathy, since I returned in a lot of bandages.

Readers might protest that I would not have died 100 years ago because I could not have gone that fast on two wheels. But bicycles and motorcycles have been the fast track to injury and death since they were invented.  The physics are terrible—moving at high speed while perched on top of a vehicle that tends to flip when unbalanced. Bicycle racing was very popular at the turn of the 20th century. Racers were maimed and killed riding more than 40 mph on steeply banked board tracks. One of the more gruesome injuries came when a crashing rider was impaled by a long splinter. Indian started making motor-cycles in 1901; Harley-Davidson in 1903.  By 1910 motorcycle racing was turning into a major attraction at state fairs. Helmets were as crude as the motorcycles. Injuries were terrible.

I'm alive to write about this accident because I had the good fortune not to hit anything solid on my high speed flips through the air. If I had hit an on-coming car or a tree or a curb at 75 mph my story would be over. Also, without the full-coverage helmet, landing face first would have killed me or made me wish I was dead. People who ride motorcycles without helmets or with those ludicrous “brain bucket” helmets should at least make sure they are signed up as organ donors before they ride.

The full-coverage helmet with all of the polymer technology inside and outside is the main reason I survived the crash. Rapid-response ambulance transport, effective treatment for shock and infection, and follow-up care kept me from the fate of riders who once rode without modern medicine.

http://www.chemheritage.org/community/periodic-tabloid/2010-12-03-how-i-would-died-motorcycle.aspx?

Thanksgiving Morning

Some of you may remember that I had an article published on the New York Times “At War” blog last year about a bike/run race I organized Iraq.  It was on Thanksgiving morning, just like the annual Turkey Day Race here in Lancaster.  This year I definitely wanted to go, even though the only chance I had of winning was freezing rain or snow.  I left my house early figuring I would be dropped on the first lap and ride home.  The race distance is six laps of the 3.3-mile triangular circle where there is a Wednesday night training race from April till October. 

As I left the driveway, the roads were dry.  By the time I passed Park City Mall ten minutes later, it was raining and 35 degrees.  Another mile later, sleet was pinging off my helmet.  I arrived 45 minutes early and no one was there.  I sat under the eaves of the radio station at the start finish (WARM 103 FM) then decided I would be warmer if I rode a couple of laps.  The race starts at 9.  I waited till 9:05 then decided it was time for the race to start.  Since I was the whole field, I then declared it a one-lap race.  Ten minutes later, I met a guy named Sheldon who rode out to see who showed up in the sleet to race.  He was surprised that it was just me.  But he did agree to be my witness of the win.  He is officially second place.


Two days ago I wrote to Keith Wilson, the keeper of the Turkey Day records, on Facebook.  He said I am the winner and I get the prize--a can of Yams!!!!

Changing Workouts

Ten days ago as I got up to leave Church I had a huge pain in my right knee.  I had ridden to Church on my folding bike and planned walk home with my family.  I rode home slowly since I would get to coast part way.  My knee was swollen and sore.  I tired to do the Sunday ride, but only rode the three miles to the start and turned around.  I went to the doctor the next day.  No knee damage he could see, my lack of stretching just caught up to me and pulled a tendon called the IT band on the outside of my right leg.  The doctor put me on physical therapy with my old friends at Lancaster Orthopedic Group.  I was back to riding and running in two days. 

But I have actually been stretching since and will have to keep it up.  In the last three months I have been riding less and running more.  In fact, it is likely I will have fewer miles on the bike this year that last year.  I’ll have to ride almost 600 miles in December to match the 7133 miles I rode last year—mostly in Iraq.

It’s not that I don’t want to ride, but I have been working longer hours which makes it more difficult to ride with just nine hours of daylight.  And I have been running more—just over 60 miles each of the last three months.  And I have been at the gym more consistently, so in October, I did the most pushups (1115) and situps (1403) I have ever done in a month and it looks like 2010 will be the year I do more pushups, situps and pull-ups than I have ever done in a year.  

Next 2-104th Newsletter

I just sent the latest newsletter to the training NCOs in the battalion for distribution.  It’s eight pages mostly of pictures.  In the next issue I will catch up with pictures I did not publish from Echo Company’s refueling operation in September and the pistol, rifle and machine gun ranges in October.  If you want a whole copy, send me an email at ngussman@gmail.com

New "How I Would Have Died" post

Today's post in my new series about how I would have died if I lived 100 years ago:  http://www.chemheritage.org/community/periodic-tabloid/2010-11-26-how-i-would-have-died.aspx

I hope you had a Happy Thanksgiving--or just a good Thursday if you live in another country.

How I Would Have Died--If I Lived 100 Years Ago

Here's another of the posts from my day job on the How I Would Have Died theme:

In his Pulitzer-Prize-winning book Guns, Germs and Steel: The Fate of Human Societies, Jared Diamond says Native Americans were killed off in massive numbers—possibly 95% of their population—by smallpox and other germs brought by settlers who would soon begin attacking the Native Americans with weapons. They eventually armed themselves, but the history of North America would have been very different if they had also been vaccinated.

I was born in 1953. My sister was born in 1955. My mother was worried sick during both pregnancies. Polio was sweeping across America, claiming more victims every year from 1920 to 1957. In 1955 Jonas Salk began widespread testing of the first effective polio vaccine. By 1957, the upward trend in polio cases had reversed. By 1960, polio had all but disappeared. 

Vaccination is one of the real triumphs of modern medicine, all but eradicating deadly diseases. But a new and disturbing trend threatens to undo centuries of progress. An anti-vaccine movement has sprung up in America based on the belief that certain vaccinations cause autism. Parents keep their children from being vaccinated and hope enough other children will be vaccinated to keep their children from contracting deadly diseases. The movement has celebrity spokespersons like Jenny McCarthy, but no support from leading researchers in the medical community.

I have five children who get all the vaccinations their doctor prescribes and I am thankful they can get them. If they couldn't, their histories may ultimately prove very different today.

Almost on the Fat Boy Program

On Sunday I took  PT Test.  I was one point lower than last time.  I went over max on the situps (82, 64 is max) and the pushups (just barely) but was 28 seconds too slow on the run.  So my score was 296.  BUT, I almost flunked the AFPT before I ran.  At 8am we went in for height and weight.  My weight was 191, up from my usual 186 because I had not ridden the bike for almost a week and was eating a lot the night before the PT Test.

Since I am getting old, I am slowly shrinking.  The first time they measured me, the medic said I was 71 inches tall.  According to Army height-weight standards 186 pounds is the maximum weight for a man 71 inches tall.  The medic sergeant rechecked and said I was 72 inches tall.  Then the max weight is 197.  If I had not passed height and weight, I would have been a No Go on the overall fitness test even with a score of 296 out of 300.

Actually, if the measurement had gone the other way, the medics "tape" you, checking your waist and neck.  With my waist and neck measurements, I would be allowed up to 203 pounds.  So I am good.  For now.

But I have to make sure I am not a Fat Boy in the future!!!!!!

Riding in NYC Tomorrow--Bought a New Lock

Tomorrow I will be riding in NYC.  I will be taking my other Iraq bike, the GT Peace 9er with me.  To be sure that bike is not stolen, I bought the best Kryptonite Lock--the Forget About It New York model.  I keep the bike in my hotel room anyway, but if I would need a lock--this one is the best.  And at 8 pounds, it is just one pound lighter than an M16A4 rifle.  So even the weight will be like being back in Iraq.

Air Assault Training

On Saturday 2-104th Aviation trained 55th Brigade Combat Team.  We flew 70 feet over the tree tops up and down steep hillsides on the way to Medina Ridge where we put two rifle squads in position.

  

LOTS OF PICTURES

More than 1200 pictures of soldiers in my unit since we got back from Iraq are here.

If you are looking for photos of 2-104 Aviation photos, look no further.

How I Would Have Died--If I Lived 100 Years Ago

[The following post is on the blog Periodic Tabloid. I will be writing weekly about how I would have died if I lived 100 years ago.]

In honor of Veteran’s Day, which was yesterday, let me explain how I could have died at 9:30 a.m. on November 9, 1973 had it been 1873 instead:

I enlisted in the Air Force in January 1972. After eight months of school I was assigned to Hill Air Force Base in Utah. My job was live-fire testing of missiles. We were 8,000 miles from the war in Vietnam, but several days a week we bolted rockets into test -firing rigs and set them off.

Our job was officially aging and surveillance testing. We froze missiles, heated them, shook them in 750,000-watt machines, put them in altitude chambers and humidity chambers, then fired them.

Most of the missiles burned just as they are supposed to. Occasionally, the mistreatment we gave them caused the propellant to crack. The air gap could make the missile explode rather than burn. We hated that. When a missile blew up a test pad we would get behind schedule and be out on the range longer. Some actually worried about the concrete and steel raining on the bunker we waited in—mostly the older guys. The single airmen, most under the age of 20, only worried about their weekend plans.

On Friday, November 9, 1973, we were testing inter-stage detonators on a Minuteman 3-stage missile—the kind that carry several warheads across the poles to the other side of the world. Back then they were aimed at Russia and China.

In a multi-stage missile, detonator cord separates the stages. When the first stage burns out, the detonator cord burns through the skin allowing the spent stage to fall away before the next stage fires. I was connecting test wires to the detonators when I saw a blue-white flash and flew back against the wall of the test bay.

I stood up and saw my crew chief lying on the floor. I could see, but I could not blink and my vision was tinted red. A wire was sticking out of my right eye, holding it open. The first two fingers of my right hand were hanging at a strange angle. Bits of wire, screws, and aluminum from the test clamp peppered my body from my waist up.

After six eye operations and surgery to reattach my fingers, I recovered months later. If the same accident happened 100 years ago, infection would have left me blind, or dead. And without the high-tech eye surgeons who cleared their schedule to operate on me, I would have been blind just from the injuries.

Modern medicine depends on chemistry. Not just drug development, but the materials that make high-tech surgery possible and the instruments that make labs so accurate and efficient.

Iraq Bike Stolen on Veterans Day

Today I went to lunch with a friend in Center City Philadelphia.  I rode my bike to lunch.  Chained it to a u-shaped metal pipe for locking bikes and went to lunch.  When I came out from lunch the bike, my helmet and the lock were gone.

Which bike?  The one I bought for Iraq and rode for almost my whole tour--a red Trek T-1 single speed.  If you ride in Philly, bike theft is going to happen.  I'll miss that particular bike like an old friend because I rode it in Oklahoma for the train up and for almost the whole deployment--I broke the crank with a month to go on my tour, but Bike Line of Lancaster fixed it when I got back.

I don't suppose I'll ever see it again, and I do have other bikes.  But I really liked that bike and will always remember the looks I got from turret gunners in MRAPS and Humvees when the say me riding with my rifle on my back.

Homesick for the DFAC

Three times in the last two weeks I stopped for breakfast on the way to work in Philadelphia.  Usually I don’t eat breakfast.  I drink coffee at home.  I drink coffee when I get to Philadelphia and sometimes buy a loaf of bread from Fork (a local restaurant that bakes its own bread). 

Today, I stopped at the buffet in The Bourse in Philadelphia.  It’s just any buffet.  It is an American buffet run by an Chinese family.  They have creamed beef, fried potatoes, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, bagels, toast and all the greasy starchy stuff anyone could want for breakfast on the hot line.  But they also have six or seven different kinds of just-cut fresh fruit:  watermelon, honeydew, mango, kiwi, pineapple slices, grapes and then everything mixed together in fruit salad.  Its all fresh and bright colored on an immaculate serving line.

I miss the cut-to-order fruit every morning at the DFAC.  I only eat a little of several things because it is expensive.  If I ate breakfast in Iraq DFAC quantities, it would cost $25.  But for $5 I can get enough to remind me of one of the really good things about Iraq.  The best thing here is when I walk outside there is no sand and no dust storm.

Maybe around the holidays if I am really hungry, I’ll eat like a soldier one morning.

Happy Veterans Day!

Late Update on Half Marathon

Reached my goal Saturday.  I finished in 1:58:18--under two hours.  To go any faster I will have to train specifically for the the run--intervals, hills, etc.  This one also made me wonder if I should go for a full marathon.  But again, lots of training.  At the end of the half marathons I can speed up.  My lungs feel great.  My legs don't.  I think a full marathon will likely end in injury.

But I might do another half if I can find one close by.

The best thing about this event was the water stations.  Every two miles or so, a dozen Amish kids were lined up handing water and Powerade to the runners.  This event could not be held anywhere but Lancaster PA.

"This Job is for Young Men"

As some of you know, way back in 2007 when I re-enlisted I thought I would join a WMD detection team as some kind of chemical weapons detection specialist.  It never worked out at the time, but when I got back from Iraq, I started getting weekly listings of full-time jobs available at Fort Indiantown Gap.  One of those jobs was the job I was looking for four years ago.

I looked at that job every week and thought 'Do I really want to be full time?'  It turns out that the team members have to be full time, which makes sense.  I called the office last week and talked to a senior officer in the unit.  He told me that the job involved a lot of travel, a lot of chemistry and was physically demanding.  He asked how old I am.  When I told him he said I could apply if I wanted to, but almost everyone else on the team was in their 20s.

I suppose I could apply anyway, but the unit gets to decide who they interview from the applicant pool.  And when I joined, I was thinking I could do this kind of thing part time.  Since that's not the case, I'll sty where I am.

Infection is Getting Better

At least that's what the doctor said tonight.  It is still more swollen than two days ago, but is less swollen than last night.  He took a culture so in a couple of days I should know what kind of bacteria were swelling my arm up.

They switched antibiotics and the second one seems to be working.  They gave me the first one because I had a MRSA infection in June.  But this one is likely to be a strep infection for which Clindamycin works better--which is what I have now.

For the last two months I have been writing the Friday post in the blog at the museum where I work.  Up to know the posts have mostly been about events.  They are a complete pain in the ass to write because our company uses a CMS system for posts.  They take 15 minutes to write and another hour to do all the crap necessary to enter the post into the system.

YUK!

But starting Friday, my posts will be under the new heading "How I Would Have Died if I Was Alive 100 Years Ago."  Breaking my neck, shrapnel in my eyes, seeing inside my knees after a motorcycle accident and all of the infections that go with my less-than-safe lifestyle mean I would have been dead at least a half dozen times if I did not have the good fortune to be alive today in America.  I send links.  My doctor thinks I am the perfect candidate to write these blog posts.

It may even make CMS easier to deal with.

The Model Scientist? | Books and Culture

I just had a review published in Books and Culture

The Model Scientist? | Books and Culture

Infection Gets Worse

I got a different antibiotic this morning, but now my arm is more swollen than ever.   The nurse on call at my family doctor said I should wait until tomorrow before going back to the doctor.  So I will wait till morning and see if the swelling goes down.  If not, I'll get an appointment and try to get this infection under control.

More tomorrow. . .

Back to the Emergency Room Again

Yesterday, the MRSA infection seemed like it was going away.  This morning I woke up with my arm swollen so much I had no wrinkles--not easy at 57 years old.  The cut they made Thursday night to drain the would had opened and blood and pus were coming out.  The MRSA is back.  I called my doctor and they said to go back to the emergency room.  I got a different antibiotic which is already giving me a weird taste in my mouth.  They said to soak my arm in hot water.

At the hospital Jacari was hoping they would do something he could watch, like cutting and squeezing pus out of my arm.  Nigel was happy when they did not do anything visual.

Looks like I am going to be a lab rat for infectious bacteria.  

My First Blister!!!!

Today I got a half-dollar-sized blister on my right heel.  I ran three miles in combat boots--clearly not a good plan.  But when I took off my boot I realized it was the first foot blister I have had since rejoining the Army.

I felt the blister coming on at the end of the first mile, but my son Jacari was running with me and this would be the first time he ran more than a mile without stopping.  He usually sprints, stops and sprints again.  He's a boy.

So we ran up a hill at the beginning of the second mile and my foot felt a little better, but down the other side it was worse.  But Jacari was still running and I did not want to be the reason he stopped.  So I kept on running.  Jacari made the whole three miles.  So it was worth a blister.

It shouldn't be too bad since it is on the back of my heel, not the bottom.  I rode the bike thirteen miles after I got the blister and that's no problem at all.  Nigel rode with us.  He was encouraging us and not at all interested in a three-mile run.

Nigel and Jacari

Back to the Emergency Room for an Infection

Yesterday a bug bie on my arm swelled from an inch to four inches long in one day.  I made a doctor's appointment for Saturday, but the last time I waited with a fast-swelling infection, I had to get about a square-inch of skin cut out.  So at 11pm I went to the emergency room.

When I got there, one of the nurses walked up and asked me how I was doing.  She had taken care of me in May of 2007, the last time I was in the ER at Lancaster General Hospital.  I broke ten bones and spent 9 days in LGH on that visit.  This visit was over and I was on the way to the pharmacy by 1:15 am.  They did cut the skin and drain some of the swelling, but nothing like last time.  I'm glad I went early.  The MRSA bacteria work fast.

Now I am climbing onto my soap box.  I joined the Air Force in 1972 when I was 18.  After eight months of training I went to my first permanent base, Hill AF Base in Ogden, Utah.  At hill as an airman I got a two-man room.  Our chow hall served five meals a day.  The food was great.  We had almost every weekend off, extra duty maybe once a quarter.  And everybody bitched.

Four years later I was in the Army.  The food was bad and there was not that much when we were out in the field.  We trained on weekends.  We slept on the ground.  The soldiers I served with bitched much less than the Air Force guys.

I learned then one of the weird rules of human life:  the better a person has it, the more that person will bitch.  Who is most like to sue their doctor--the higher the family income, the more likely they are to sue.  Who sends their food back at restaurants, bitches about coffee temperature at Starbucks, people who have a great life.

So now I come home to people bitching about the government, the economy, health care, Hollywood, TV, and who knows what else.  People in America bitch about everything and live better than kings did two hundred years ago.  Clean water from the tap, medicines that really cure disease, safe food, surgery with anesthesia (versus none), vaccines against disease, effective dental care, antibiotics, and lifesaving surgery of many kinds--I have had several myself.

We have all this and an epidemic of bitching.  And those who cannot bitch enough themselves listen to professional whiners bitch for three hours at a time on the radio.

I am so thankful to be alive at time when I can break my neck and nine other bones and join the Army three months later.  A decade early I would have spent a year in a halo cast.  A few decades ago I may have been paraplegic.  I ate better in Iraq than 90% of the people in the world.  I flushed better water than a third of the world drinks.

This really is a great country.  I wish the whiners could see it.

Lauren's Last Regular Season Game

Championships start next Wednesday.  Lauren's finger is healed up.  She played the full game plus two OT periods.

 

October Drill M240B Range Photos--Chinook Door Gun

Safety Check

Long Shot to small targets

10-round bursts

Beautiful weapon

Changing firing mechanism

Switching to prone firing position

Article in USO magazine "On Patrol"

The following article was published this spring in "On Patrol" the USO magazine.  I never saw it and the link is broken on the web site.  There is a pdf copy on line, but it is not easy to get to.  I also posted on a soldier stories Army web site.

------

On a cold, wet morning in early May of 2008, I climbed into the back of a canvas-covered 2 ½ ton M35A2 “Deuce and a Half” truck for the bumpy ten-mile ride to Urban Combat training.  I was carrying an M16 rifle.  We were beginning combat training to get ready for deployment to Iraq in January of 2009.  I re-enlisted in 2007 after leaving the Army in 1984.  I had been a civilian for 23 years and now I was back.  Up to this point my service had been one weekend a month.  But climbing into that out-moded truck that would soon be retired even from National Guard use, I had a moment of doubt whether I really belonged with these guys less than half my age and a moment of déjà vu.

Thirty-six years ago, in February of 1972, I was 18 years old in basic training.  I climbed into the back of a Deuce and a Half truck.  They big three-axle trucks were new to the military then, as was the M16 rifle I carried at the time.  We all knew we could end up in Viet Nam, although the war was ending.  Riding out to the range made the war more real. 

And 36 years later, bouncing and lurching on rutted roads toward the range I wondered if I was really ready for deployment to Iraq.  I never left the United States during the Viet Nam War, but in one of those ironies that make the best war stories so good, I was the only one of the five guys I enlisted with to come home in bandages.  They served in Viet Nam and came home just fine.  I was on a live-fire missile test crew in the desert in Utah.  On November 9, 1973, some detonators went off and I was blinded in the explosion.  I had my sight back in a month after six operations to remove wire and small fragments from my eyes.  I retained as a tank crewman after that and served another nine years, mostly as a tank commander on active duty and in the reserves.

In 1984 I left the Army because I wanted to work as a writer and, although the reserves is billed as one weekend a month and two weeks in the summer, the leaders spend a lot more time than that.  So I left the Army.

When America was attacked in 2001, I thought about re-enlisting, but I was too old.  At that time the maximum enlistment age was thirty-five.  Eleven years prior service meant I could enlist until age 46, but I was 48 when the terrorists attacked.  In addition, the baby we adopted the year before was not quite two years old. 

Five years later, in 2006, congress raised the maximum enlistment age to 42 for the Army.  It took a few months for me to find a recruiter willing to go through the waivers and hassles necessary to get a guy my age back in the Army, but Sergeant 1^st Class Kevin Askew was sure he could get me back in. 

The déjà vu comes and goes.  In a very digital world, the Army still runs on dog-eared file folders of papers and uses more clerks to shuffle paper in a 2000-soldier brigade than a civilian company with ten times that many employees.  Most of the men I served with in the 70s (there were no women in combat units back then) were from inner city or rural backgrounds.  Most of the men and women who enlist now are the same.  They want a job, they want the benefits for their young families, they do not have the money for higher education and want to go to college or technical school.

Inside the fences that surround most bases, the Army is very much the same as the 1970s.  But the first time stopped on the way home from a weekend drill to get coffee at Starbucks, I knew perception of the Army had changed completely.  In the 70s we did not wear uniforms off base if we could avoid it.  Now people thank me for my service almost anyplace I go.  I came home from Iraq through Fort Dix, New Jersey.  I took an Amtrak train home to Lancaster.  Several people I never met thanked me for my service between Trenton, New Jersey, and home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  A few of the guys I served with in Iraq had enlisted back in the 1970s.  They remembered very well what it was like to be a soldier back then.  Sometimes when a stranger thanks me for my service, I wish some of the men I served with in the 1970s could spend a day in the uniform now and get some of the gratitude that they missed back then.

Death and Motivation

In an odd coincidence, I watched episode 2 of "Band of Brothers" the HBO series with my two sons and talked with my daughter about her recent visit to a charter school in Harlem.  My boys are (almost) 11 and (just) 12.  Even though they don't have video games in our house, they play them with their friends.  In video games you die regularly and come back to life.  In the "Band of Brothers" they make painfully clear death has no re-dos.

The boys really like the series.  We will watch the whole thing together over the next two weeks.

On the same evening, I spoke to my daughter Lisa, a sophomore at the U. of Richmond about her Fall Break trip to NYC to see schools in Harlem.  One of these amazing schools she visited was located in the worst area of Harlem.  The school starts at 730 in the morning and goes to 430 in the afternoon, but the kids stay later if they need to finish their work.  They go six days per week, 11 months of the year.  More than 90% of the kids they graduate go to college.

The schedule is rigorous.  The work is hard.  So what is the biggest motivational problem for the school?

The student death toll.

Of the 1200 kids in that school, two to five die every month.  That's right, 2 to 5.  By the end of the year, that adds up to about 5% of the student body.

More than a million soldiers have served in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.  To date, about 6,000 soldiers have lost their lives in these wars or 0.6% of all soldiers.  If these wars had the same death rate as this relatively small school in Harlem, the death toll in these wars would already be worse than Viet Nam.

The unit I served with brought everyone home from Iraq--more than 2000 soldiers flying thousands of missions in helicopters.

Lisa said the teachers she met in these schools are amazing.  That is very easy to believe.  For all the problems with education, the best teachers really are miracle workers.

Lauren is Back in the Goal--and Whacked Again

Lauren called me Saturday evening to let me know she played the 2nd Half of the game between Juniata College and Drew College.  She didn't know she would be playing, but the doctor cleared her to play so she was happy to get back in the goal.

When she started in goal Juniata was down 2-0.  By the end of the game they lost 3-1, but Lauren felt she played well and made good saves--with her hands.

Then she told me she took a ball to her face.  She was seeing a black shadow in her eye.  Her mom and I worried about serious injury, but it turned out she just had some blood in her eye from the hit.  No bad problem, just a swollen eye with a red patch.

We had a chance to talk about her future.  In the short term, graduate school, in the longer term all the different ways she could do social work.  She hasn't yet decided which kind of social work she will do--adoption counseling, veterans assistance, probation, and others.  But she was clear that her career intent is to help people. so that is the important thing.

My Latest Book Review

I reviewed another book for "Books and Culture" magazine.  It is a history of science book.  It's most interesting chapter is an aside on the author's debate with Henry M. Morris, one of the founders of the modern version of Young Earth Creationism.
The book is titled Much Ado About (Practically) Nothing: A history of the Noble Gases.

I have another review coming out in the print edition next week, but it won't be on line for a month or two.

Staying as Long as I Can

Before and during the last drill weekend, I decided to stay in the Guard till they throw me out which likely will mean going to Afghanistan in two years or so.  Our unit should be getting new aircraft at the beginning of next year.  If all goes well, I hope to go with them.

When I started working full time in Iraq writing about soldiers, it became clear that in an ideal world I would have been in public affairs all the way through the training to get ready to go to Iraq.  That way I could have gotten information about every soldier before we went on active duty and written about the whole process--civilian, to soldier in training, to the desert and back again.

So I will write about all the training we do until plans for the unit become more clear.  Then I will have to get waivers both to stay in the Army past 60 and to deploy.  Our sergeant major thinks both waivers are possible, but nothing is ever a sure thing with waivers and exceptions.

On Monday when we were at the Corn Maze, PA State Senator Mike Brubaker was welcoming the veterans as we went in.  Later when we were eating he came over to our table and asked if there was anything he could do for us.  My wife said, "Neil wants to stay in the Guard and go to Afghanistan.  Can you help him with that?"  Sen. Brubaker called his aide over.  It turns out we live in a different senatorial district, but he said Senator Smucker would certainly be willing to help.  My commander in Iraq, Scott Perry, is the representative for the PA 92nd district, so maybe I will have other help getting a waiver.

At least now I can stop thinking about what to do next.  I will try to stay in as long as I can.  If I can't stay, at least I tried.  Next drill I will take an eight-hour ride in a Chinook and take pictures of aerial gunnery.  No matter how long I get to stay, I will get to do a lot of fun stuff while I am in.

Three-Day Drill Weekend

This drill weekend was a three-day Friday to Sunday weekend.  I will be posting pictures from the weekend.  I also shot video with a camera loaned to me by the WHYY Radio TV Learning Lab also known The Dorrance H. Hamilton Public Media Commons.

I shold be posting pictures in the next few days of pistol, rifle and machine gun ranges.  I should be able post video once Craig Santoro and the other folks at the WHYY Learning Lab help me figure out how to edit.

More posts in the next few days.

Today, my family got a free day at the Cherry Crest Adventure Farm in Strasburg, Pa.  They had free admission and free food for veterans today.

Another Half Marathon

Last Saturday I ran another half marathon--the Hands on House Half Marathon in Lancaster.  I ran it partly because it was close, partly because it was hilly, and because several friends from Church were in the race. It was a beautiful Saturday morning.  The race started at 9 am.  Just 1,200 people started the race, compared more than 15,000 at the Philadelphia event two weeks before.  Before the race started I hoped I could finish under two hours, but wasn't sure.  I felt better as the race went on and my pace was staying close to nine minutes per mile, so I thought I was going fast enough.

At mile nine, my left calf started to hurt and my legs started to feel heavy.  I thought I was keeping the pace up, but at the finish line the clock said 2 hours, 1 minute, 58 seconds.

Oh well.

I can try again soon.  There are several events reasonably close in the next two months.  My leg is recovering.  I ran three miles each of the last two days.  The winner in my age category finished almost 20 minutes ahead of me, so that goal is a long way off.

Go? Stay? Retire?

Lately I have been thinking a lot about whether I should stay in the Army National Guard.  On one level, I did more than I set out to do.  At first, I did not think I would go to Iraq.  That turned out different than I planned.

I would like to retire, but I have only a small chance of actually meeting the requirement for retirement.  In fact, I have a very good chance of ending my Army career just as my father did--months short of a retirement.  Dad served almost 19 years and was mustered out due to the Age in Grade act.  It was passed in Congress and supported by then representative John F. Kennedy.  Dad never voted for a Democrat and hated the Kennedys for that one.

To the best of my knowledge, when I turn 60 years of old, the Army National Guard will end my service.  At that point I will have 17 years of active, reserve and guard service.  I can get a waiver from the Adjutant General of PA if he or she is willing.  The waiver is good for one year.  I can get another year too, but age 62 is the upper limit.  At that point I will have just over 19 years which should be enough to get me the retirement.

To seal the deal, I would very likely deploy to Afghanistan or some other war zone by 2013.  But I could spend another year at one of our wars and still not get the retirement.

My current enlistment ends the month of my 60th birthday in May of 2013.

Actually writing this down makes it look less likely I can actually retire than when the words were just floating in my head.

PA’s Top Enlisted Man Started His National Guard Career in 104th Aviation

Command Sergeant Major Nicholas S. “Chip” Gilliland

His career in CH-47 Chinook helicopters spans three decades, but it took about three seconds for Command Sergeant Major Nicholas S. “Chip” Gilliland to decide on his most memorable mission in a Chinook. One long night in late January 1996 four Chinook helicopters from G Company, 104th Aviation Battalion flew to Williamsport to rescue residents from raging flood waters. In nearly ten hours using every rescue technique they knew, the G Company Chinooks rescued a total of 65 flood victims.

“We set the back end of the bird down on buildings and pulled people up the ramp,” Gilliland said. “We pulled people up with the winch. We set down wherever we could to save flood victims.”

Gilliland operated the winch. For most of the night he and the other members of the crew used night vision goggles and struggled against the rapidly changing weather that caused terrible floods. The temperature was almost 60 degrees during the day, then dropped to below freezing at nightfall and was ten degrees below zero in the middle of the night. Snow squalls hampered both rescue and refueling operations throughout the night.

The floods swept rivers across Pennsylvania causing 14 deaths, damaging 30,000 homes, closing 570 roads and destroying 8 bridges. But the act of rescuing residents altered the life of one of the rescuers

Gilliland is currently serving as Senior State Enlisted Leader for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. At the time of the flood, he had served for almost ten years, that included three years on active duty, two stints in the Individual Ready Reserve (IRR), a ten-month recall to active duty during Operation Desert Storm, finally joining the Army National Guard in 1994.

Then in January of 1996, the rescue operation showed Gilliland the importance of well-trained aircrews ready to respond in hours to a statewide emergency. Ten years after his initial enlistment in 1986, Gilliland knew what his life’s work should be.

He served in Company G until May of 1996 when he was hired as a CH-47 instructor at the Eastern Army National Guard Aviation Training Site. Since May of 1996 he has been fully committed to aviation maintenance. At the Eastern AATS he has served as an Instructor, Enlisted Standardization Flight Instructor, Senior Instructor, Section Sergeant, Platoon Sergeant, First Sergeant, culminating in his assignment as Commandant/Command Sergeant Major.

Command Sergeant Major Dell Christine, 2-104th Aviation, credits Gilliland’s leadership at EAATS with creating a culture of safety and thorough maintenance procedures that contributed to the enviable safety record the Pennsylvania National Guard Aviation has had on major deployments to Afghanistan, Kosovo, and Iraq. “The record speaks for itself,” Christine said. “We deployed an aviation brigade to Iraq 2009 and brought all the aircraft and personnel home without a major incident.”

Gilliland says the mechanics and flight engineers who were his first mentors taught him correct procedures. “They were careful, they went by the book. They taught me to do things right.”

From overseeing flight training Gilliland took a big step up in becoming the senior enlisted leader of 17,000 Pennsylvania National Guard soldiers and airmen. “We have 750 men and women deployed at any given time. Thousands in the last two years,” he said.

Maj. Gen. Jessica Wright selected Gilliland from many accomplished Command Sergeant Majors and Command Chief Master Sergeants in the Pennsylvania Nation Guard. She said, “Selecting CSM Gilliland as the State Command Sergeant Major was a clear choice. Though he was surrounded by several highly qualified peers, he stood out as the person for the job.  He is a technical and tactical expert.   Chip is also a Soldier's Soldier; he serves under the mentality that he works for them, the Soldiers do not work for him."

Gilliland’s office in the headquarters building at Fort Indiantown Gap shows at a glance the care and attention to detail that mark his long career. The plaques, certificates, flags and rack of coins that mark milestones in his career are carefully arranged. His desk is organized and clear of stray paper.

When his three-year tour as Pennsylvania’s Senior Enlisted Leader ends, Gilliland said he will retire. He plans to return to work in aviation.

Update on Lauren's Broken Finger

Lauren is back at practice and in physical therapy to get complete her healing process. She said it was definitely painful when the doctor and the therapist started bending her finger, but she hopes to be back in the goal before the end of the season.

She also hope to keep her bones inside her body from now on!

Speaking at the Mount Joy Rotary Club

Last Tuesday I was the guest speaker at the Mount Joy Rotary Club.  I had never been to a Rotary meeting before.  I was not surprised the chicken was on the menu or that I could have three desserts if I wanted them.  I was surprised at the opening of the meeting when we sang a song together.  Service clubs like Rotary have existed long enough that singing together is one of their traditions.

We pledged allegiance to the flag, sang the national anthem and sang "Roll, Rotary, Roll."

The audience numbered about 30, mostly men and three women.  I wore my uniform since I was speaking about serving in Iraq.  After I was finished speaking one of the women said, "I saw you come in the building in uniform.  I thought you were too old to be a soldier, but you explained how you got in."

Randy Wolgemuth, the president of the Mount Joy chapter gave me my opening joke.  He asked how long I lived in Lancaster County.  When I said 30 years, he said, "You're a native."  I said, "No way!"  When I got up to speak I told the audience what Randy said, then told them about about something I heard from a Mount Joy resident 30 years before.  In 1980, I met Harold and Helen Keller.  They were in their mid 50s at the time.  They had lived in Mount Joy in the same house since they got married 30 years before.  They raised eight kids and were active in their Church and the community.  But Harold told me there was a group of women in their 70s and 80s who lived on their street who still referred to them as "The Kellers from Manheim."  Manheim is the next town to the northeast, five miles away.

I spoke mostly about the men and women I wrote about while I was in Iraq.  As I flashed their pictures up on the screen, I was wondering how they were doing now.  Telling some of those stories again reminded me that I met some of the best people I have ever known in that miserable country.

Article from Tactics about Iraq--from my Day Job

If you want to read it, send me an email and I will send a copy. ngussman@gmail.com 

Ran Half Marathon Sunday

On Sunday I ran the ING Philadelphia Half Marathon.  It was great.  I have never run in such a big event. More than 19,000 runners started the 13.1 mile race.  They filled the Ben Franklin Parkway lining up for the start.  I started in group 20 out of 22 groups.  There were roughly 900 runners in each group so I started with 18,000 runners in front of me and about one thousand behind me.

We ran from the the parkway through Center City to the Liberty Bell then looped back to the parkway past Chinatown and the Convention Center.  We then ran down Kelley Drive to the city line, crossed the bridge and ran back on West River Drive, finishing in front of the "Rocky" steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

I ran with my friend and former editor Kristine Chin.  She brought her family to the race, so we had a four-person cheering section at the start, 5-mile mark and the finish.  This year and last year, Kristine and her husband Rick rode the RAGBRAI on a tandem.  Kristine did the 400-mile+ ride across Iowa without training.  She did train a little--riding about 100 miles (total) in the months before the ride each year.  So she convinced me I could do a half-marathon with minimal training.

She was right.  I finished!!!!  Not fast, 2 hours 23 minutes, 33 seconds.  But I moved up from 18,000th at the start to 11,208th at the finish.  And I improved by 45 minutes over my time doing the half-marathon on Tallil in Iraq last year (3:08).  It was so much fun to run in a crowd with thousands of people.  I was in lot of pain on Sunday and Monday, but I hope to do another one this year.

Echo Company Back to Fueling

On Saturday of this weekend's drill, while the country remembered 9-11, Echo Company was training for the next mission.  The Echo fuelers set a a fueling point on Medina Ridge at Fort Indiantown Gap.  Fox Company set up communications for the operation.  Three Blackhawks came in for fuel just after lunch.  I was waiting for a ride to the military-vehicles-only training area and missed the Blackhawks.

I did have a chance to watch a pair of Chinooks fly in from the east and head southwest into the sun after practicing flying into the refuel point.  They did not refuel for reasons they never tell the guy with the camera.  But it was fun to get another chance to get near the rotor blast of a Chinook and get pictures of the big birds flying off into the sun.

Milestone in Context

Today this blog passed 100,000 page views since June of 2008 when I started keeping track.  It's a big milestone for a small subject, what it's like to go back in the Army when you are older than dirt.  Just to put in context, I checked the traffic on one of my favorite blogs, pharyngula.  This very entertaining blog by PZ Myers has had 88 million page views in the last several years.  I suppose Justin Bieber has 88 million page views on a good day.

Citizen Soldiers are not Entirely Civilians

I got a google alert on Sunday that my battalion commander was in a picture posted on the Penn Live blog, the on-line section of the Harrisburg Patriot-News.  When I went to the page all of the pictures were of the 2-104th homecoming--both soldiers and families.  Since the eight images pictured soldiers in our unit, I called the current battalion commander, the former battalion commander, my company commander (all of whom were in photos) and the battalion Command Sergeant Major.

If a civilian communications manager calls a civilian executive during a holiday weekend, that executive will hope the news is good and be ready for something bad, but will call back because his or her phone/blackberry is always on.  None of my leaders called back until this morning.  My current battalion commander, Maj. Joel Allmandinger, said he saw the photos.  Since it was good news, no reason to call during the weekend.

Since I am the kind of workaholic who brings his laptop and cell phone on EVERY vacation or day off, I admire people who really shut off their cell phones/laptops etc and actually go on vacation.  My disconnected time is on the bike.  If I don't hear from the others by this weekend, I will try to call them again on Friday.

I admire them, but won't emulate them.  I was asking for my cell phone in the hospital after I broke my neck.  It would take some kind of psychic surgery to get me away from digital communications for more than a day.

Digital Barbarism

After my latest on-line argument earlier this week, I decided to see what my favorite living writer, Mark Helprin.  His book Digital Barbarism: A Writer's Manifesto paints a beautiful picture of all that was marvelous without digital communications.  Helprin is a writer of tall tales.  His main characters are marvelous man and women who perform unbelievable feats--an old man who walk effortlessly on mountain trails, an out-of-shape young man who goes from fat boy to climbing alpine ice cliffs in a year.

Helprin says digital communication needs rules.  He is right, but it does make me wonder how that can happen.  I never make anonymous comments, but what does that mean in a world where many people do?  Facebook is somewhat better because you deal with people you know personally--unless you have "friended" strangers.  If you are interested in the topic, Helprin entertains, not just complains.

Reading this book reminded me that many of my favorite writers are political Conservatives--CS Lewis, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Helprin are soldiers and men who want to preserve high culture: literature, the arts and everything that makes life worth living.

Here is Helprin on the 2008 election:

By MARK HELPRIN

What a kerfuffle! Half a dozen talk-radio hosts whose major talent is that, like hairdressers, they can talk all day long to one client after another as they snip, have decided that the presumptive Republican nominee does not hew sufficiently close to their gospel.

As anyone who has listened to them knows, the depth of their thought is truly Oprah-like. And if a great institution of the left can weigh-in as it does in the choice of a nominee, why not its fraternal twins on the right? It doesn't matter that Mitt Romney, suddenly their Reagan, became a conservative in a flash of light sometime last year, or that their other champion, a populist theocrat, is in many ways as conservative as Vladimir Lenin. The task is to stop the devil McCain.

As a mere print person whose words are not electrified and shot through walls, automobiles, pine trees, and brains, I realize that what I write in the bloody ink of a dying industry may be irrelevant. But from my antiquated perspective, something is very wrong.

Ostracism following tests of "right thinking" is a specialty of the left. Not that it doesn't exist on the right, blooming with great malice especially on the radio. But in light of their prospects, conservatives have no room for it. For by their neglectful forfeit they have lost the battles of culture and education, and to remain other than an occult force they must express their beliefs through politics, from which, after November, they may be for a time excluded.

Why? To begin with, American columns should have cut through Baghdad after three days and exited three weeks later, leaving Saddam dead and a pliant Iraqi strongman to keep the country harmless or suffer the same quick take-down. Rather than being broken on the wheel of irreconcilable Muslim factions, a supple and intact American power would have shattered Arab elation following Sept. 11, and then by threatening their rule been able to discipline the various police states of the region into eliminating their terrorists. Far more efficient that way, without six and more murderous and unavailing years in which neither a single democracy has appeared nor will one. The surge is merely coincident with a change in Sunni strategy. Instead of watching the U.S. and Iran arm the Shiites for a major sectarian war, the Sunni choose to avail themselves of American arms while simultaneously removing the lunatic jihadists nipping at their heels.

The Democrats' advantage in 2008 is that the costs of the war in Iraq have been highly disproportionate to its effects, not least in the decline of the American military, when it could have been otherwise. Conservatism has been dehorsed, because though conservatives rightly seek victory, it has not appeared except in the minds of those suffering from cognitive dissonance.

This and the economy threaten to throw the conservative enterprise back to where it was before Ronald Reagan or even William F. Buckley. Along comes John McCain, who has an 80% positive rating from the American Conservative Union but who as a truly independent soul does not fit, at the margins, some of the transient notions of what makes a conservative. Because of his independence and flexibility, he is the only Republican candidate who has a chance of winning, and thus preserving the core principles of conservatism, in relation to which he is unimpeachable. They are national security (in particular the strength of the military after Iraq and vis-à-vis China and a resurgent Russia), Constitutionalism (as in individual vs. collective rights), and the economy (free markets vs. government industrial policy).

One can agree or disagree with his peripheral positions, but political orthodoxy is political death. If those who are in a hissy fit about Sen. McCain would rather have Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton, they will get Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton -- how delightful to go to jail for building your house on land once visited by an exotic moth -- and they will wake up to a great regret, as if in their drunkenness they had taken Shrek to bed.

But, guess what? Even if, as the country veers left, living conservatives gnash their teeth and dead ones spin in their graves, a small class of conservatives will benefit. And who might they be? They might be those whose influence and coffers swell on discontent, and who find attacking a president easier and more sensational than the dreary business of defending one. They rose during the Clinton years. Perhaps they are nostalgic. It isn't worth it, however, for the rest of us.

So, rather than playing recklessly with electoral politics by sabotaging their own party ostensibly for its impurity but equally for the sake of their self-indulgent pique, each of these compulsive talkers might be a tad less self-righteous, look to the long run, discipline himself, suck it up, and be a man. And that would apply equally as well to the gorgeous Laura Ingraham and the relentlessly crocodilian Ann Coulter.

Transformed in a Moment

One morning in Iraq, I left battalion headquarters to ride across the base and go to a meeting with the Command Sergeant Major of the Garrison.  We were meeting about the 9/11 Commemoration Ceremony.  We had much of the program in place, but we needed a chaplain for the invocation.  When I told the commander's assistant where I was going, two or three people in the office right away said, "Sergeant Major F*&K This!"  And smiled.  The garrison CSM had a reputation for swearing that was noticeable in an Army unit in Iraq.  I had not heard a sentence from him without an F-bomb.

The chaplain everyone assumed would give the invocation had just been transferred to the north.  Chaplain Valentine, the post Catholic chaplain, taught philosophy at Fordham University in New York City.  After 9/11 he decided to volunteer for the chaplaincy.  He was on his third tour.  From our base, he rode convoys and flew to every outpost in the south of Iraq.  The north was short of chaplains, so he went off to minister at the small outposts north of Baghdad.

My pick for the invocation was Chaplain Eugen Henke of the Wisconson National Guard.  He is an inspiring speaker and left his post as top chaplain in the state to volunteer for deployment.  

I knew as Chaplain Henke and I walked toward the CSM's office that the meeting would go well, but I was a little uncomfortable at the prospect of talking about a prayer sitting between a chaplain and the CSM.  I could hear the CSM talking as we neared his office.  "Get this F--ing request to headquarters. . ."

When we walked into the office, I introduced the two men.  We sat down and talked about the ceremony, the invocation and the flow of the event.  We spoke for almost 15 minutes.  Not ONE use of the F-bomb.  It was an incredible performance.  In fact, no one believed me when I got back to our headquarters.

As I walked down the hallway with Chaplain Henke after the meeting I made small talk, but in my head I kept thinking "Un-f*&king-believeable!!!!"

Surgery Went Well for My Oldest Daughter Lauren

Good News from the hospital.  Plates and screws will fix the compound open fracture and dislocation of her left index finger.  Lauren called me an hour after the surgery, groggy but in good spirits.  Her mom sent me a text right after the surgery to say the procedure went well.  Lauren should get most of the range of motion back in her finger.

Her big concern was whether she could play this season.  She is a senior so it's her last year playing college soccer.  She thinks if the recovery goes well she will be able to play at the end of the season.  She was doing some aerobic training during the three days she was waiting for the surgery and plans to practice as much as possible as she recovers (without using her left hand of course).

She asked the doctor if she could work out while she waited for the surgery.  The doctor said, "Yes Miss Type A. . ." and told her the exercises she was allowed to do.