Jumping the Gun?

Source

Many of you might be saying, "Ah ha, the Muse is back, the story continues." And you wouldn't be wrong.

But it's going to be by fits and starts for a bit, it won't be twenty, or more, posts in a row developing and continuing the story I began way back in June of 2020 (wow, that was a while ago). I want to take this slowly and deliberately.

I was rereading some of the old book and realized that I really missed those characters I created in Almost a Lifetime and the new characters in the prequel, part one (yes, I really need a better title).

I will say this, reading Almost a Lifetime should be first, but it doesn't have to be.

I wanted to know more about those men (and the very few women in that book) so I started writing the prequel. Which introduced a number of new characters (even a couple of women central to the story). I like these new folks and want to do them justice.

That won't happen by rushing things. Slow and steady wins the race.

In other news ...

Yup, still retired, still enjoying life.

Celebrating 47 years of wedded bliss with The Missus Herself today. Didn't have a big ceremony on that day, in fact, there was no ceremony at all.

We went to Seoul, did a bunch of paperwork in a number of offices (American and Korean) and at one point our guide through the process turned to me and said, "Oh yeah, congratulations, you're married."

"Well shoot, did I miss something?"

"No, that last paper you both signed, that was it."

I rather wish we'd had some sort of ceremony, but after 47 years, still being married to the love of my life is enough for me. (Finding someone to tolerate me that long is probably a miracle of some sort.)

We went to dinner at Longhorn Saturday night (she has a baby shower to go to today), had a nice soup, excellent steak, and of course the company was incomparable.

That and the NFL playoffs beginning ...

Sorry, it's family tradition to go into the "Playoffs? Don't be talking about ... playoffs?" shtick everytime the playoffs are mentioned.

But yeah, the playoffs are on, so I'm watching. I do loves me some football.

Christmas, 1941

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Cadet Nathan Paddock stepped off the train into the bitter cold of a December day in New Hampshire. The weather had been miserable all the way from New York, drizzle and fog were most prevalent. He had hoped to see snow on the ground for Christmas, but it was not to be.

America was at war. In the two weeks since the attack on Pearl Harbor things had settled down somewhat. Initially there had been frantic activity in the nation, people howling for revenge on the perfidious Japanese, but not at West Point, The cadets knew how woefully unprepared the Army was for total war. It would take time to get ready. Time, Paddock wondered, if events would afford.

He wanted to leave the Academy and enlist, a couple of his classmates already had. The upperclassmen urged them to stay, but the perceived need to do something, anything, was strong in the younger cadets.

"I tell ya, Paddock, there's no sense rushing off to get killed. Hell, they might even accelerate the courses here because one thing a bigger army is going to need is officers, lots of officers. Wait, get your education."

Burt Thompson was a "Cow," a second classman at West Point, he was one of his company's sergeants and Paddock looked up to him. He'd asked the upperclassman for advice on staying or enlisting immediately. It had been his advice to talk to his family before committing one way or the other. Christmas break was upon them.

"Don't make any rash decisions, kid."

Paddock heard his name called, he looked up, it was his Uncle Bill.

"Ain't you a pretty picture, Nate. That uniform looks good on you, course, I can't say I like the gray, you kinda look like a Johnny Reb."

Paddock blushed then laughed, Uncle Bill had been a Marine in the Great War, he still limped from the wound he'd received in the Argonne Forest. He was also, like Paddock's father, a keen student of history.

Paddock was enveloped in a bear hug, it felt good to be home.

Paddock saw his Mom's eyes glistening in the light of the family Christmas tree. She was happy to see her only son, but she was sad as well. She knew that her much loved child might have to go to war, and soon.

"You sure you won't have another slice of pie, Nathan?" she asked.

"Ah, no thank you, Mom. If I eat anymore, I think I'll burst."

"Alright now, you go on to the den, I'm sure your Father and Uncle want to hear all about West Point."

Paddock didn't think so, but he went anyway, he wanted the advice of both men.

His father was adamant, "You will, under no circumstances, leave West Point to enlist. Are you out of your mind? The Army is going to need officers, good ones."

Uncle Bill stirred, "Your Dad's right, Nate. If you enlist you'll just be cannon fodder, a rifleman. Stick to the schooling, I knew a couple of West Pointers during the war. Good men, one of 'em didn't come home, the other won himself a bunch of medals, but more importantly, he helped his men survive, got them home in one piece. I'm with your Dad, stay."

Paddock sipped his coffee, it felt strange to be here, at his parent's house, sipping coffee, when a large part of the world was at war. Soon the United States would be sending men out to fight as well. He wanted desperately to be a part of that. But he knew his father and uncle were right. If the Army needed him now, they knew where he was.

And so that was that, he'd stay at West Point.

Leutnant Jürgen von Lüttwitz, took a last sip of the potent beverage Schütze Dessauer had managed to bring all the way from France. It wasn't great cognac, but it was probably the best cognac within ten kilometers of their dugout. He doubted there was any cognac at all in Leningrad, the city they were besieging.

He pulled his blanket tighter around him, though the dugout had a small stove, it didn't take much to be reminded that he was in Russia, hundreds of kilometers from home, at Christmas. He missed his family and hadn't heard from them in a few weeks. Mail delivery could be difficult at the front, he knew that. But nothing? In weeks?

He was more concerned with his men, none of them had received any mail in the same time period. Morale was a fragile thing, people couldn't conceive how much a single letter could raise spirits.

At that moment a figure came through the heavy curtain sealing the entrance to the dugout, "Jürgen, are you here?"

Von Lüttwitz shook the blanket off and stood, "I'm here, Herr Major."

"Bad news, I'm afraid, I couldn't find anything to bring for Christmas."

Von Lüttwitz laughed, "There's some cognac in that canteen," he gestured towards the small table next to the stove, "help yourself."

Major Kurt Hassel grinned, somehow his boys always seemed to manage.

"Prosit!" Hassel offered as he took a swig of cognac.

Von Lüttwitz tipped his empty cup to his battalion commander, "Prosit, Herr Major."

Stephen Hernandez felt totally out of his depth. He was on a crowded train headed, as near as he could tell, east. Had to be east as the land was rolling and there seemed to be nothing for mile after mile. He figured they had to be in Kansas, they certainly hadn't gone west through the Rockies.

The Army had put him and a couple hundred other new recruits on the train, they were off to basic training. Where? He had no idea.

He decided to catch forty winks, one thing a teacher had told him stood out.

"Stephen, when you get to the Army, sleep whenever you get the chance. Trust me, after a while you'll be able to sleep anywhere at any time. Do so, you won't regret it."

As he settled back in his seat, he glanced out the window. There were no lights and nothing to see anyway, just the vast spaces of the Great Plains. He fell asleep wondering where he was going. Wondering if he'd ever see home again.

End of the Line

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The sergeant watched as the infantrymen hastily dragged the dead military policemen off the track and into the woods. All thoughts of searching the forester's hut were gone. As the infantrymen who would fit in the utility vehicle climbed aboard and began to drive off, a burst of firing arose to the rear.

Looking back, the sergeant saw their disabled halftrack blow itself to pieces. Whatever was shooting at the halftrack was decidedly unfriendly. Sounded liked 20mm cannon fire, the sergeant was not prepared to stick around and find out. He ordered the driver to move out up the trail.

The Sherman lurched forward, then steadily accelerated, vanishing up the trail as the snow fell harder.

Source

The small scout car inched up the trail, fresh tracks in the accumulating snow indicated to the vehicle commander that they had just missed the Amis¹. He radioed back to the two Panthers coming up behind him.

"The halftrack has been destroyed. A single tank is still around, based on the tracks going up the trail. I do not plan on pursuing."

The commander in the first Panther couldn't help but smile, thinking, "If I was in a little 222, I'd wait for the big boys as well." To the armored car commander he responded, "Probably a smart move, we'll be up in a minute."

"Two, you copy?"

"Jawohl, klar²."

The two Panthers came up on the armored scout car, sitting just off the trail. The platoon commander had the 222 bring up the rear, the 222's speed and agility was meaningless on this forest track. The commander preferred a tank in the lead.

The driver was straining to see forward, his periscope was fogged up and water was dripping from his hatch again. The snow had turned back to rain and the track was becoming almost unnavigable.

"Sarge, we're not going to stay on this track much longer are we? You can feel Old Betsy starting to slip every time I yank on the tillers." The driver spoke over the intercom, his concern evident in his strained voice.

"Got no choice for the moment, Smitty. Those Krauts back there aren't going to stop. Word over the battalion net is that the Germans are boiling out of the woods to the east in their thousands. Our guys are falling back all along the line."

The gunner spoke up, he'd been looking at a map. "Skipper, I think I know where we are. This trail ends in about 500 yards, hooks up with the main road to Stavelot."

The tank commander, squatting down in his hatch, trying to stay dry and warm, succeeding at neither, answered, "Puts us kinda to the north of where we're supposed to be, doesn't it?"

"Yep, but based on the terrain, and that fork we took a while back, that's where we are. I'm sure of it."

Smitty, easing up on the accelerator, felt the tank slow. "Sarge, little village ahead, couple of houses anyway."

"Okay, stop here. Ozzie, gimme that map."

"They've stopped."

The gunner was pressed against his sight, he knew that Hans had an armor piercing round loaded in the gun. All he saw was the single Sherman ahead, the trees were thinner here, he thought he saw buildings ahead as well.

The tank commander used his field glasses to study the area around the American vehicle. He shivered, it was still cold but at least the rain seemed to have stopped. He was looking for the utility vehicle he had seen earlier. Perhaps the Amis were on the run like their comrades all over the Ardennes.

If you believed the chatter over the battalion net, they had broken through. He had heard the regimental adjutant come on the net and order everyone to press hard.

From what he'd seen, the Americans were making them pay in blood for every meter gained. He'd left the railhead at Bitburg with a full platoon of five tanks, now he had two. But why had these Americans stopped?

He saw no other sign of troops other than the single Sherman. Had they reached an established position? Perhaps they were as lost in the woods as he felt.

Sergeant Hubert had the driver pivoting the tank to face back they way they'd come, they were low on fuel and he was tired of running.

What was left of his infantry were long gone, apparently when they'd hit the main road, they'd just kept on going.

His gunner nudged him, "Whaddaya think, Hube? Make a stand here?"

Hubert shrugged, "Lou, you get anything on the radio?"

"Nah, Skipper, lots of jamming, either that or these damned hills are blocking our reception again, I keep hearing snatches of transmissions, some ain't in English."

Hubert realized that they were stuck for the moment. He noticed that the tank was now pointing back to the east. At least they had their thicker armor to the front.

Not that a Kraut 88³ would care one way or the other.

"He's turned around, his gun is trained back down the track."

"What's the range?"

"750 meters, clear path to the target."

"So you have a shot?"

"Aber natürlich, Chef⁴."

"Fire when ready."

The big Panther shouldered its way past the smoldering American tank. The other of the pair followed in its wake. It had taken two shots to kill the Sherman, the first had glanced off the gun mantlet, the second had gone in right through the radioman's position.

There had been a brief fire in the American tank, but it had stopped. Probably something inside that wasn't soaked had managed to burn for a moment, then gone out. From the smoke issuing from the open radioman's hatch, the fire wasn't completely out but wasn't going to catch.

The German commander of the first Panther shook his head as they rolled on to the main road. It could have been them back there, they had gotten lucky.

The driver of the Sherman sat quietly in his position. Lou, the bow gunner/radioman had been killed instantly, his blood showering the driver as he frantically tried to back the vehicle up after the first shot had hit. The turret crew were still screaming in confusion and pain from that first shot.

Though it had glanced off the mantlet, it had sent dust and paint fragments off the turret wall into the gunner's face. He was frantically trying to clear his vision when the second round hit. Killing him and Lou within a fraction of a second of each other.

The driver was the only one alive at the moment, the Sarge was gone, maybe he had bailed? Lou and Ozzie, the gunner, were both dead, and Johnny, the loader had coughed a couple of times, then gone silent.

He felt a drip on his face, he looked up.

"Huh, f**king hatch seal is still leaking."

Then he closed his eyes.

¹ German slang for the Americans.

² Yes, that's clear.

³ American tankers often assumed every enemy tank carried an 88 mm cannon. The Panther's gun was a 75 mm, very effective though.

⁴ But of course, Chief.

Editor's Note: Links to the first three episodes in this vignette are here, here, and here. This is the last episode of The Tank.

From My Window ...

OAFS Photo

I was downstairs today and happened to glance out the window to my backyard. Saw something in one of the small trees that looked somewhat out of place.

Mind you, temperatures were in the 20s and the wind made it feel a lot colder. After studying the object in the tree for a few minutes, it moved. Bird!

A fair-sized bird, this was no robin-sized flying creature, from the looks of the beak, I had to say a raptor of some sort. A hawk perhaps, what type though I couldn't figure out.

There's plenty for them to eat around here - rabbits, squirrels, mice, all sorts of wee things that to a hawk would be appetizing. Yes, it's winter but normally it isn't as cold here on the coast as it is further inland.

Did a bit of research and there are a number of raptor species native to Little Rhody and some stay here year round.

No matter the type of bird, it was fascinating watching it out there. From the way he or she was all puffed up, I'm betting he or she was freezing his feathered butt off!

I'm really enjoying this stop to smell the roses thing. I got up early this morning (well, okay, 0830 isn't early for most people, it's pretty early for me, mind you, I stay up past midnight most nights) and decided to stay up.

Had my coffee and a bagel, read some, got on the computer to check the blog and respond to comments and thought about writing. I haven't finished The Tank vignette yet, I'm rather stuck on that one. Might just leave it for now and do something else in the meantime.

I mean I've got all day, haven't I?

Ciao.

Gee, What Do I Do Now?

At a Rest Area in New Jersey
OAFS Photo

Well, we're back in Little Rhody, made really good time on Sunday instant. Left Chez Tuttle et Nuke before 0900, stopped to get food and fuel a couple of times, and we were home before the sun went down. Haven't made it back from Maryland like that since Covid times. Yup, wasn't much traffic to speak of. We even went over the George Washington bridge in New York!

Now, as my old boss and dear friend Liz said, I'm really retired. Everyone was back to work on Monday, except me. My old desk remains vacant for the moment (I might have mentioned that it might be haunted 😱) so my absence is kinda obvious. Yeah, I miss the old crew but this new found freedom is kinda awesome.

So what have I done since returning home?

Uh, not much.

Watched a couple of movies, watched a bit of football, read some, and listened to a lot of music. Yes, I'm hitting the relax mode rather hard.

I did check in with the pharmacy I use to pick up a prescription. Seems that Medicare A and B plus Tricare for Life saw no change to the cost of that particular prescription, which really eases my mind. It's one thing to be told there won't be any issues, quite another to experience it for yourself.

I am pleased. Very pleased. We'll see how things go.

I haven't been inspired to create any new fiction, I have to wrap up that tank vignette I started last month. Might not be much left in that well. We'll see

For the moment I am enjoying retirement.

A lot.

Holiday recap- It was a Merry Christmas and a hectic New Year

Montana Idaho State Line (Source)

Happy New Year everyone.  Thanks for checking in while Sarge is taking a day off.  A day off from what?  His busy retired lifestyle I guess.  I trust everyone had a nice holiday season.  We had a very nice Christmas, rather low-key which is always nice, especially after a busy start to it hosting Thanksgiving for my large family here on the Left Coast.  We attended the midnight mass service at my alma mater, the University of San Diego in the chapel called the Immaculata. It's a beautiful Church which makes kicking off Christmas day that much more special. It actually wasn't a midnight service, something I miss from my childhood, as Catholic churches seem to always hold their latest Christmas Eve service at 9:00 p.m., but I consider it midnight for nostalgia purposes.

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The next day I made a prime rib which my family devoured. I considered smoking it, but I hadn't tried it before and didn't want to potentially ruin our Christmas dinner, forcing us out for Chinese food. Fah ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra raaaaah (I hope you understand the "Christmas Story" reference).  No?  More

I took the rest of the week off and did absolutely nothing, up until the 28th.  On that day my wife and I flew up to Kalispell Montana, where her sister lives. No, this wasn't a planned trip for New Years, nor was it some expensive desire to see snow.  It was actually a rescue mission to retrieve my mother-in-law, and get her back down to Southern Oregon.  As it turns out, her physical ailments: semi-crippling arthritis, two bad hips, some neuropathy, as well as some confusion, made everyone realize that we couldn't let her drive home alone.  Her getting confused and lost for hours on the Flathead Reservation on the drive up was another reason.

My Montana nephews (3 of the 4)

However, it was more than that, including a house found in complete disarray by her son while going in to feed the cats and finding a notice on the door that her water has been shut off a few days before she left.  Her siblings and I realized that she probably shouldn't be living alone. 

My wife stayed to try and help set up some services so she can get some assistance and stay in the house. So over the next week or so we will be working on getting all her bills on auto payment plans, and either hiring a maid, and/or requesting adult senior services to help her.  She has 2 other kids in the area so hopefully no more last minute trips will be required.¹

I think I was able to help my wife and MIL in a couple ways.  First with of which was on the road. I did all, but about an hour of the driving, and in some challenging conditions at that.  We experienced snowy and slushy roads through the curvy mountainous passes of Montana and Idaho, a long monotonous drive through Eastern Washington, many hours with the sun in our face through northern Oregon along the Columbia River, then thick fog all the way down from Portland.  What should have been a 13 hour drive turned into 18 and 1/2 since my MIL needed to stop at least every couple hours, and each stop was lengthy, including two full service sit-down restaurant meals.  I don't know about you, but when I road trip it is gas up, take a break, and get food, all in the same stop, and do it quickly!  Hurry up everyone, we're on a schedule!  Not for her though, and I understand that. I was planning on taking two days to take the trip, and that was the plan when we started out that morning, but she really wanted to get home in one day.  So a 1:30 a.m. wake up when I couldn't sleep, a 6:30 a.m. departure, and a midnight 30 arrival made for an exhausting day.  

The Columbia River Gorge at sunset² (Source)

I also helped in that I am not as emotionally hamstrung about taking away some of her independence.  That could be a challenge, since she's stubborn, fiercely independent, and doesn't want to hear it from her kids.  She semi-jokingly refers to me as her favorite son-in-law, as I was the first, she respects my military service (he retired in the late 80s), I'm older than all of her kids, and so she holds me in high regard, like she did her husband, who passed in 2012. So on the drive down, I was able to convince her to work on getting some help, just due to her physical ailments, avoiding any discussion for now about her faculties.  That's a discussion which we can save for another time.  

My father-in-law

Hopefully she will accept more help from her children, (like the ones who live there) including the ability to schedule or participate in her medical appointments going forward. I don't envy my wife and in-law siblings as the future will be a trying one. If any of you have dealt with this, my hats off to you.  Any advice is appreciated.  I supposed I'm lucky? in that I didn't have to deal with this from my own parents.  Cancer took my mom at 62, and my dad lived to 87- sharp as a tack.

Anyhoo, it's back to work for those of us not enjoying retirement.  It should be an interesting year.  An interesting project to help with those red guys in the far east, and some travel.  For now I have planned work trips to Georgia Tech Research Institute near Atlanta, another final trip to India, and some others for fun- Boston during St. Patrick's Day, Hawaii with our soon-to-graduate nephew and his folks, and wherever else our wandering ways take us.

Here's to a wonderful New Year to everyone-  Sarge, Juvat, Beans, JB, and Lush & Co., as well as all the Chanters.  

¹Don't get me started on why we needed to fly from SoCal, when they're a much shorter flight, and one I offered to pay for.  Or why it got so bad in the first place when they live just across town.  Yet another subject we'll deal with later.

²That's the gorge looking east, while I was driving west- sun low and in my face the entire late afternoon, seemingly below the visor for hours.  I really wanted to visit, but the compression of the driving time into a single day prevented it.  Multnomah Falls was another missed opportunity.

Yay!

 Well...this past week had a large injection of excitement.  Unfortunately, it wasn't the "Afterburner Takeoff in an F-15" kind of excitement. 

 Just thought I'd put that in for one reason or another! ;-)

 No, as many of you will remember WAAAYYYY back in 2016 (Sarge was a young 70 something at the time) we heard a cat scratching on our door.  Seems some animal lover (yeah Right!!) had left a young cat somewhere in our vicinity.  (This would happen several times in the years we've lived out in the country.  If I ever observe that happening, well, justifiable homicide of the perp is a probable verdict.)  

We took her in and nursed her back to health.  For whatever reason, she was named Schmedly.

She fit in well with the other 2 cats (only one of which is still with us) and has been an excellent entertainer in the ensuing years.

We noticed a few days ago that Schmedly seemed a bit under the weather, not eating much, sleeping a lot, not moving. 

Ruh-Roe!

Took her to our vet.  They recommended we take her to the Pet Hospital in San Antonio as it was more serious than they could treat.  Off we go...

Get down there, they take her into an examination room and tell us to wait in the waiting room.  An hour or so later (felt like considerably longer), they emerged and said she needed a blood transfusion. (There was more to the prognosis, but I don't speak Greek, or Geek for that matter.)  Mrs. J and I discussed it for quite a while as it was pretty expensive.  We finally said go for it. 

Got the call the next morning, that the procedure had been successful and she was much better. That's the biggest "Yay" we've had in quite a while.

Drove back down and picked her up, paid the bill after moving quite a bit of cash from a savings account to our checking account.  Loaded Schmedly into her Cat Carrier and put her in the back seat.  She meowed her complaint constantly for the hour and a half ride back home.

That was NOT fun, Dad! Now feed me.  I want Tuna and not Kibble, and I want it NOW!              Yes, my Liege!

 

Frankly, it was music to my ears.

Thank you Lord!   

On a more humorous and less serious note, Mrs J and I were reminiscing a few days ago about the times that "Yay" was the source of a good story.

It's been quite a while since this story took place.  Little J was just starting to talk and walk.  We were on Leave and in a hotel somewhere we wanted to visit.  (The specifics aren't available mentally anymore, nor are they all that crucial to the story.)  The hotel had provided a crib for Little J but the room was pretty small so it was at the foot of our bed.  They had also provided a night light.  We had put him down to sleep and shortly there after went to bed ourselves.  However, being still in the early stages of married life, we took advantage of the "Moment".  Very shortly thereafter, Little J let out a loud "Yay" from where he stood in the crib at the end of our bed with, evidently, an excellent view of the festivities!  Took us a while to get all concerned to sleep.  The elder party had a difficult time stifling the laughter.

As he got a little older and was able to walk, he was intent on trying things like us adults did.  One morning, Mrs J walked in to the bathroom to do her business.  As she sat down, her feet felt a bit wet.  Looking down, well, let's just say the liquid was yellow.  She immediately began to go through the list of probable suspects.  Since I had yet to visit the facility,  she ruled me out.  However, on interrogating Little J, he allowed as how he wanted to "Pee like Dad does" and proceeded to drop his drawers, put his hands on either side of the seat and show her how it was done with a "Yay" of victory.  Unfortunately, his stature was such that the key part in peeing in the pot was about 2 inches below the rim.  He was very proud of the fact that he could do it standing up though.  His mother had a few kind words for him.  We very shortly thereafter bought a step stool he could use.

Those were the days, and I'm looking forward to presenting these stories to my Grandchildren as soon as the get a tad older!  I think they'll view their parents in a whole new light.

Peace Out, y'all!

juvat