First Sergeant Santamaria

Like a black ash volcanic field, he seethes, he spouts, he sprays sulfurous jets.

Young soldiers scurry when he strides in their direction.

Officers smirk, but at a distance and out of sight, of the old

First Sergeant who could, who might, who will erupt at any moment.

"Fuckin' Liberals," he brays. "Faggots!"

Everyone in the Orderly Room turns to look.

No one is his target. Sulfur hangs in the air. He is quiet again.

"Mother of God" is his family name and the reaction his presence elicits.

A young sergeant lurks outside his door.

"What are you lookin' at?" Santamaria growls at the sergeant waiting for his signature.

"Could you sign this Top?" she says. She shrinks as she hands him the paper.

"What's this?" he booms. "Trying to get a discharge so mean old sergeants won't hurt your feelings?'

"My tent is ripped," she croaked.

"You allowed your Shelter, Combat, Individual to be ripped and damaged," he said

Rising to his full height and towering over the recently promoted NCO.

He barked, "Was it a party?" Top turned his head and continued.

"Sergeant First Class Schmidt, were you invited to the tent-wrecking party?"

"No Top," came a voice from an adjoining office. The smirk was audible.

"Give me that," said First Sergeant Santamaria, grabbing the paper.

"Invite Schmidt to the party next time, he's sad now."

"Yes Top," said the young sergeant backing out of the office and the

Orderly Room. 'Mother of God,' she thought as

She left for the supply room to get her tent repaired.

In Heaven, Mary sighed.

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Eight Years Ago: Remote Refueling Site Drama

Army All-Terrain Refueling Truck HEMMT

Eight years ago, I was deployed in southern Iraq with an Army Combat Aviation Brigade. Among the nearly 2,000 soldiers were about 100 fuelers, the men and women who refueled helicopters. Some were stationed at our main base at Camp Adder, others were dispersed to bases all across the southern half of Iraq, from Camp Garry Owen on the Iran-Iraq border to Al-Kut to Basrah to Camp Normandy near Baghdad.

These remote detachments refueled helicopters at all times in all weather. Hours and hours of boredom could be broken up by a half-dozen Chinooks, Apaches or Blackhawks suddenly filling the fueling rigs. 

At Camp Normandy in the summer, one of the fueler sergeants made a pet out of a cat. Pets are against about a dozen regulations, but he managed to keep his new friend well hidden.  He named it Fluffy.  

One day in November 2009 he walked into the morning briefing visibly upset and announced, "We lost one of our own last night." The dozen soldiers in the room started whipping their heads around looking to see who was not at morning meeting.  Then someone yelled, "Who?"

The big sergeant said, "Fluffy! Somebody ran her over in the night.  She was stuck to a HEMMT tire this morning when I found her."

Several soldiers threw Gatorade bottles, a few threw helmets and chased the bereaved sergeant out of the tent.  

Refueling a MEDEVAC Blackhawk helicopter in Iraq, 2009

SPQR and America

Senatus Populusque Romanus

The Senate and People of Rome

Some of the soldiers I served with in Iraq talked about getting an SPQR tattoo.  "The Senate and People of Rome" was the motto of the Army of the greatest and longest lived empire in the ancient world. Although it's demise can be dated around 472 A.D. it arguably continued through the Roman Church and the empire in Constantinople through the present day.  The Roman form of government had a revival in the high regard our Founding Fathers had for Rome and its government.  The founders of America were sophisticated, multi-lingual men who thought Paris the center of civilization. They were men of the Enlightenment who thought theocracy and fundamentalism just as misguided as we think it is today.

I thought about the tattoo as I started yet another book by Hannah Arendt, a collection of her essays titled Between Past and Future. The introductory essay begins by saying the title is a description of Janus, the Roman god of beginnings.

Janus, the god of beginnings looking forward and back

Janus is the god of the daybreak, of the first day of every month and the first month of the year: JANU-ary.  The doors of the temple of Janus (the "Gates of Janus") were closed in times of peace and open in times of war.

The essay reminded me that the early leaders of Rome, as well as emperors as late as Vespasian,  closed the doors of the temple of Janus with a great celebration marking victory.  The gates were, of course, opened when the Roman army marched to war.

The soldiers in Iraq who thought of getting the SPQR tattoo saw the American Army in Iraq and Afghanistan as a revival of the Roman Army, making us the modern legions of that Army.  With armies, ships, aircraft and space vehicles circling the globe, America is a more global army than Rome could ever have dreamed of.

The soldiers did not know, nor did I at the time, that the SPQR tattoo was not for native Roman soldiers, but for mercenaries, slaves and gladiators.  Tattoos were not for citizens and were considered something for the low classes. 

The Roman government brought the idea of justice for all citizens of an empire into practice for the first time in human history.  That government relied on both law and tradition to continue and thrive for most of a millennia.  It thrived with men like Marcus Aurelius, for me the best of all the emperors, and survived horrors like Nero.

America has not closed the Gates of Janus since August 1945 with the defeat of Imperial Japan shortly after defeating Nazi Germany. With the Cold War beginning in 1947 followed by the Gulf War and the War on Terror, we may never close The Gates of Janus again.

Cold War Hero Who Served After 1991

Armand Lattes, Professor Emeritus of the University Paul Sabatier, Toulouse

When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, the world faced a plethora of problems. In retrospect, the world did not handle the demise very well. Russia and the other former Soviet states were broke and in collapse and armed with uncountable Weapons of Mass Destruction.  

In the 1940s and 50s, before the Soviets had nuclear weapons, their counter weapon to American and European nukes was nerve gas and other chemical weapons.  The Soviets manufactured thousands and thousands of tons of chemical weapons and stored them for the Doomsday attack.

In 1992 these un-dropped bombs and un-fired shells were rusting and leaking in storage across the former empire that had no money.  If these chemicals leaked into waterways and into the air, illness and death would spread through and out of the former Soviet Union. 

The answer to the problem was a massive, long-term decontamination program.  One of the chemists who volunteered for this dangerous work was Professor Armand Lattes of the University Paul Sabatier in Toulouse. Every September from 1992 until I met him in 2006, Lattes flew to secret sites in the former Soviet Union and worked with international volunteers to neutralize this terrible stockpile of weapons.  Lattes continued his unheralded work for several years after we met until his  retirement.  

I kept in touch with Armand in the years since and still hope to visit him and his wife Isabelle at their home in Toulouse. I almost made it to Toulouse on my trip around Europe last summer, but never got to that part of France.  

When we hear of the latest terrorist attack on the news, we know that dozens more attacks were foiled by law enforcement working secretly to disrupt the terrorists.  Armand and the men and women he worked with saved countless lives and the world itself from the disaster of chemical weapons leaking into the air and water or being stolen and used by terrorists.  

Armand did his part to keep the weapons of the Cold War from killing after the demise of the Soviet Union.

Why is Veteran's Day Today? Who is a Veteran?

Almost 20 years ago when I had been a bearded civilian for more than a decade and was still almost ten years away from re-enlisting, I worked for a company with offices on five continents.  I went overseas every month for the three years I worked there.  In 1999, I was talking to one of my co-workers about my upcoming to several countries in Europe in mid-November.

I told her I would be in Paris, then Belgium, then I would have a meeting in Dusseldorf on the 11th before flying on to Singapore.  She said, "You can't meet on the 11th, it's a holiday."

"Not in Germany," I said.

Armistice Day, as it is know in Europe, is celebrated by all those on the winning side in World War I, it is a regular work day in Germany.

She didn't know that Veteran's Day is when the Armistice that ended World War I was signed in Versailles.  At 11 minutes after the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of the year, the war officially ended in 1918.  So the observed holiday can be moved, as it was this year, to give government and other workers a day off, but the actual holiday is the 11th of November.

Until 2009, I did not consider myself a veteran.  I had served during the Vietnam War, but not in the war. I served in the Cold War on the East-West border, but that war stayed cold until it ended.  It wasn't until I deployed to Iraq in 2009 that I became an actual veteran.

Murrie Hubbard, the only other person from my 1971 Stoneham High School class to enlist during the Vietnam War, went straight to Vietnam and was a civilian again by 1973.  He was a veteran. I tested missiles in Utah, I was not a veteran.  Four decades later we both are veterans.

Field Guide to Flying Death: MAD--Mutually Assured Destruction

The 60s was the heyday of “Mad Magazine” and MAD as the centerpiece of our Cold War strategy. MAD—Mutually Assured Destruction—became the plan to preserve the future of the world once the Soviet Union first tested a hydrogen bomb in 1953. 

The US and the Soviets amassed so many nuclear weapons during the 50s and 60s that using them could only result in the destruction of the entire world, as we know it. 

Since the end of the Cold War, nuclear war remains in the unthinkable category, but for the fundamentalists who see the world as the stage for their own particular apocalypse, the unthinkable is not so unthinkable.

The Russian Federation still controls thousands of nuclear weapons, but the danger has shifted away from the Cold War scenario of one of the superpowers attacking the other. Then the world worried about living under the threat of a Superpower nuclear war.  Now the world worries about nations and terrorists who don’t care about MAD setting off a nuke because they want to kill everybody who does not see the world as they do. 

In the midst of Cold War, Hannah Arendt wrote the book “On Revolutions” talking about the rise in revolutionary thinking from the Reformation through the American and French Revolutions to the permanent state of revolution that characterizes the modern world.  We can no longer rely on MAD to constrain the nuclear arsenal. Superpowers cannot divide the world into client states they can control. 

MAD will not protect us. The overwhelming nuclear arsenal we have is not a threat to someone happy to die to bring on their personal apocalypse, or to the thug in charge of North Korea who will happily sacrifice his people on the altar of his own ego. 

In a world of revolutions, our security agencies have to doggedly keep track of all existing nuclear weapons to make sure a terrorist never gets one. 

I liked the Cold War draft army I served in better than the current all-volunteer army and, I admit, I liked the MAD world a lot better than the current threat of a nuke delivered in a truck or a shipping container.  

My Last Tanker Nickname: Oddball

Donald Sutherland as Oddball, a tank commander in the movie "Kelly's Heroes"

I got my last tanker nickname more than a decade after I earned the nickname Sgt. Bambi Killer.  I got that nickname on a business trip to Sao Paulo, Brazil, in 2000.  The company I worked for just bought a company in Brazil and I was part of a team that went to Brazil to introduce ourselves to the people who ran the business.

Sao Paulo has traffic that makes Los Angeles look like Omaha, so the local managers sent a limo for the four of us. This meant we could be more comfortable on the three-hour 20-mile trip from the airport to downtown. 

At the time I had a beard and still had a lot of brown hair.  Among the local staff people who were waiting to meet us was my now long-time friend Ivan Porccino. Ivan speaks five languages and was assigned as our interpreter.  When we got in the car, Ivan introduced us to the driver and said we would be in Sao Paulo for a few days. The driver said, “I love America. I learn English watching American movies.”

So we talked about movies. The driver mentioned he loved “Kelly’sHeroes.” Bob Lee (Robert E. Lee, no kidding, but he went by Bob) our CEO said, “Neil was a tank commander back the 80s.” The driver turned, looked at me again and said, “Oddball! You are Oddball!” And so I was. For the rest of the trip and the rest of the time I worked for that company, I was Oddball, especially to Bob Lee.

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