The Boredom of the Siege

Source

Somewhere in Maine, along the Kennebec River, October 1775

The boats had been carried for what felt like hundreds of miles, at least it felt that way to young Seamus McTeague. They had just completed yet another portage, this time well over ten miles. The men were exhausted, wet, and hungry.

Most of the provisions had been ruined early in the journey as the boats they were using leaked badly. Much of their powder had been ruined as well. Seamus had remarked to one of his comrades about that.

"When we get to Quebec City we'll have no powder, what are we expected to do, throw rocks at the garrison?"

Wesley Chatham, another Massachusetts militiaman who had volunteered for the expedition laughed, "You said 'when,' Seamus. More like 'if.' We'll probably starve to death out here in this dank, forgotten wilderness long before we get to Canada."

"Well, it would help if we didn't have to carry these damnable heavy boats ..." Seamus began before his sergeant cut him off.

"They're called bateaux, not boats."

"Boats, bateaux, useless leaking pieces of ..."

"Mind your language, lad. I know we're in the wilderness and there are no women or children present, but that sort of language becomes a habit. A bad habit."

Seamus wanted to glare at the sergeant but, realizing the man was right and knowing what his old Gran would say, he nodded and said, "Aye, I suppose yer right, Sarge."

The boredom of the siege of Boston had led many a militiaman to volunteer for Colonel Arnold's expedition to attack Canada. It was a two pronged expedition. One, led by a Colonel Montgomery, would follow the traditional route to Canada, up Lake George and Lake Champlain, traveling by water. Seamus McTeague was with Arnold's force, they had traveled by ship from Newburyport up to the mouth of the Kennebec River which they would follow through the Maine wilderness.

Colonel Arnold had set out with over a thousand men, Seamus doubted that many still remained with the column. Though, to his knowledge, only one man had died so far. While clearing timber a tree had fallen on one man, killing him outright. But as the weather got worse and worse and supplies ran lower and lower, Seamus fully expected that a lot more men would die long before reaching Canada.

Seamus was regretting his choice to leave the boredom of the siege for the peril of the wilderness. At this point, it was probably just as dangerous to go back as it was to go forward. He felt something cold on his hand as he thought about that, so he looked up from his revery.

It was snowing.

The British Lines, Boston, October 1775

"Salt pork again?" one of the grenadiers said with disgust as the company rations were distributed.

Sergeant Allen Andrews looked up from where he was seated, brushing his uniform tunic, and said, 'Look lads, it's all we've got at the moment. The Navy is supposed to be bringing in supplies any day now, but ..."

"When will that be, Sarge? When they can spare a moment from burning American towns?¹"

Private Jameson went quiet when he saw the man next to him look up and shake his head. 

"Perhaps, if the salt pork ain't to your liking, Private Jameson, a taste of the lash might be more to your taste." Captain Marston had heard the men grousing as he arrived at the company bivouac, so decided to take action.

Jameson went pale as a sheet, "No Sir, begging your pardon, Sir. I meant no disrespect ..."

The captain had had a man flogged only the week before for insubordination. Every one of the grenadiers remembered that, but their morale had been sagging for quite some time. Many still remembered their bloody "victory" some months ago at Breed's Hill. Now they were bottled up in Boston, surrounded by a rebel force which seemed to grow larger daily.

Meanwhile, their only contact with the outside world was via the sea, and they all felt that the Royal Navy could do more to succor them. Instead, the Navy brought more men in and spent a lot of time patrolling the coast.

Andrews knew all this, knew that the generals were probably doing their best, but in his considered opinion, their best wasn't very good.

Marston looked around at his men, then came to a decision. "I'm volunteering this company for a working party out on the islands.² The Navy will transport us out there where a party of men will be cutting hay for the animals within our lines. There's also the possibility of gathering some rebel sheep out there as well. Any of you lads fancy a bit of mutton to supplement your diets?"

Andrews saw the men's attitudes improve almost immediately as the lads gave a cheer for their captain. Andrews knew that the captain could be harsh, but he had a knack for motivating the men. A little expedition into the harbor would certainly relieve the boredom of the siege.

Source

The grenadiers had been landed in the early hours of a foggy October morning. They had secured a beach head on the small island and had watched as a group of men, loyalists Andrews assumed, had come ashore.

"Sergeant, post your line a bit further out, also send a couple of your best men ahead to scout the island. Can't see a damned thing in this bloody fog."

"Sir! Corporal Holloway, take Meade and Simpson, scout on ahead. Don't wander too far, stay in range of that ..." Andrews swept his hand over towards the civilian working party who were cutting hay and making an absurd amount of noise while doing so.

Holloway grinned, "Right away, Sarge. Come on you two, you heard the Sergeant."

The three men had been swallowed up by the fog within seconds of moving out. Andrews glanced at the captain, Marston was seemingly engaged with watching the men cutting hay. He had a grin on his face.

"That lot swears more than a group of tars³, wouldn't you say so, Sarn't Andrews?" Marston shook his head as he said that.

"They'd certainly give the Navy a run for their money, that's for sure, Sir."

The snow had turned to rain, and it was coming down so hard that Seamus could see that the river was rising, rapidly. They were now on the Dead River, so called because of its sluggish current, which was anything but sluggish now.

Their already dire situation became worse when one party ascended a branch of the river, only to discover their error only after a number of boats had overturned, spoiling what remained of their meager rations. Even Colonel Arnold considered turning back at that point.

The men were gathered under a tree, scant protection from the rain but better than sitting in the open, when the sergeant returned.

"Right lads, we're pushing on. Only the most fit though, any of you lads feel like you're done in, can stay here, or go back. I'm for pushing on. Any of you ladies feel like going back?"

What was left of the company, perhaps thirty men, decided that going back was no better than going forward. Seamus had shouldered his firelock and went to stand with his sergeant. "Might as well keep going, eh Sarge?"

"There's a good lad, now come on, boys, up and at 'em."

Canada was close, but so was starvation.

¹ The Royal Navy bombarded the town of Falmouth (now called Portland) in Maine, in October of 1775. Then Marines were sent ashore to burn the structures still standing.

² Boston harbor had many small islands back in 1775. Both sides used them to graze livestock and provide fodder for their horses and cattle. Many small battles were fought on those islands during the siege of Boston.

³ "Tar" was a Royal Navy slang term for a British sailor.

Destruction-Check, Construction-Soon

 Ok, Campers, we had a bit of progress on the house building thing.

No, Beans, construction hasn't started yet.  But...we have had the guy in charge of construction out to the property a few times.  We've discussed what is going where on the property and figured out that we're going to need a bit more space in a couple of the places we're going to build.

 

First would be where my brother's house will be.  They took down some trees and cleaned out the underbrush.  Which is a job in and of itself.  Who knew Texas had jungles?  We just need about 4' deeper for the 40' length.

  

We also brought out a guy from Morton Buildings to look at the property where we wanted the horse barn. 

That gap between the two sets of trees is reserved for the horses and their abode.

 

He had all the nice stuff and could get it done fairly quickly.  However...

Yes, Beans, the price.  Holy Molely. $150K for a 20x30 barn.  Our builder said he could do it for considerably less.  So...

 In any case, as soon as the architect finishes the blueprints, our builder will get started on the home. We expect them any day now. The builder hasn't changed the stated completion date (AKA December) but "started" would be nice.

Well...I guess we have started.  Got electricity on the property.

If we need a new construction engineer looks like our grandson could handle the job. 

 Just kidding.  We're making progress and things should start taking shape shortly.

Peace out, y'all! 

 

 

Feeling a Bit, Off ...

OAFS Photo

One of those strange Saturdays in late March, temperature didn't get up much above 40° though it was a sunny day. Didn't feel too bad in the sun, other than the omnipresent wind giving the air more of a chill than I care for.

Felt out of sorts all day, then I stumbled over this while perusing stuff on YouTube. I've loved this song since I first heard it ...

It's a great tune in my book (though, as always, YMMV). Lately I've been a bit down on what was my favorite band for the last few years. Part of it is due to the loss of their drummer, Taylor Hawkins, four years ago. I saw the Foo Fighters for the first time before Taylor died, the energy was incredible. (The lead-in photo was before the show I saw them with Taylor on drums.)

I saw them with their new drummer, Josh Freese, back in 2024. The band was still great, but the energy was different. Not bad, just different. Then last year, they fired Josh. I haven't heard them with the new guy, Ilan Rubin. Drummers are an extremely critical piece of a band. Changing drummers sometimes changes everything.

Anyhoo, I'm starting to listen to their music again. I kind of missed them.

Who knows what the future holds, for now, I'll listen to the music, wherever it comes from ...

Wheels

Dave Grohl, Nate Mendel, Taylor Hawkins & Chris Shiflett

(One, two, three, four)

I know what you're thinkin'

We were goin' down

I can feel the sinkin'

But then I came around

And everyone I've loved before

Flashed before my eyes

And nothin' mattered anymore

I looked into the sky

Well, I wanted somethin' better, man

I wished for somethin' new

And I wanted somethin' beautiful

I wish for somethin' true

Been lookin' for a reason, man

Somethin' to lose

When the wheels come down (When the wheels come down)

When the wheels touch ground (When the wheels touch ground)

And you feel like it's all over, there's another round for you

When the wheels come down (When the wheels come down)

Know your head is spinnin'

Broken hearts will mend

This is our beginnin'

Comin' to an end

Well, you wanted somethin' better, man

You wished for somethin' new

Well, you wanted somethin' beautiful

You wished for somethin' true

Been lookin' for a reason, man

Somethin' to lose

When the wheels come down (When the wheels come down)

When the wheels touch ground (When the wheels touch ground)

And you feel like it's all over, there's another round for you

When the wheels come down (When the wheels come down)

[Instrumental Break]

When the wheels come down (When the wheels come down)

When the wheels touch ground (When the wheels touch ground)

And you feel like it's all over, there's another round for you

When the wheels come down (When the wheels come down)

When the wheels come down (When the wheels come down)

When the wheels touch ground (When the wheels touch ground)

And you feel like it's all over, there's another round for you

When the wheels come down (When the wheels come down)

Source

What do you Chanters like for music? Let me know in the comments.

I'm way too pensive to continue, so for the moment ...

Sarge, out.

Stapler? Have You Seen My Stapler?

Total War: Rome - In game screenshot

From commanding tanks to commanding the legions of Ancient Rome, it's all in a day for me. Do I have way too many games?

Why yes, yes I do.

Does it bother me?

Why no, it does not.

Once the taxes are done, they need to be put in the mail. Which, as yesterday's comments revealed, can be a pain, depending on where you live.

The USPS doesn't really live up to its once vaunted reputation. For those of you of a certain age you might remember their old motto, "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."

The USPS doesn't really claim this as their motto or creed, officially, but unofficially, sure that's what they strive for.

Ah, it's good to have goals. Better yet to hit those goals.

But I digress, I was speaking of the taxes.

Printing out (don't get started on submitting them online, I don't do that, my reasons are my own) the various forms was fun. Seems I need to update my printer drivers, or I can continue to stop the print spooler, clear the print queue by manually deleting files, restart the print spooler, delete the printer I have selected, then install it again.

While a pain, it worked, in my defense I was "draining the swamp" and decided to actually worry about the alligators later.

So everything is printed out, just needs to get stapled together and ...

Damn it. Where's my stapler?

Hhmm, not there, where I thought I left it last year. Nor is it there, where I have left it in past years. Maybe it's ...

Screw it, I'll buy another stapler.

Someday I am going to find a treasure trove of staplers, all barely used though rather dusty. The staplers are probably with all those socks which get lost in the dryer. Or the Tupperware lids which don't seem to go anywhere.

Argh, back to Ancient Rome, things are simpler there, the stapler hasn't been invented yet ...

Sarge Note: Yes, I'm enjoying my weekend, why do you ask? I'm sure the Muse is fine, she's probably with some sailors in a dive bar in ... Ruh roh.

Mindless Entertainment, Sort Of ...

Panzer Elite
In game screenshot

After a few days of perusing well-written (sic) government instructions and filling in numerous pages of tax documents, I have declared success.

As in, I'm done. All that remains is the mailing of the forms and the writing of the checks (that latter bit will be done online, no actual checks will be written). So, I guess I can get back to my fictional tale of the American Revolution and ...

Ya know what? Nope, I'm going to take at least another day, maybe the whole weekend before I get back to that.

My brain is fatigued after doing what I feel is my duty as an American citizen. Wasn't pretty, wasn't fun but hey, 'tis done for another year.

Now I'm going to go immerse myself in the virtual world of computer gaming.

I took that screenshot above just moments ago, I need to get back there. We'll need a restart as while I was setting up a screenshot, a German scout car was setting up a shot on my tank.

Damn the bad luck.

Sorry juvat, I was too shocked to get a picture of my tank blowing up for you. Bit traumatic that was.

Unlike real life, I can start over. Kind of like in that Tom Cruise movie Edge of Tomorrow. Which, by the way, I really enjoyed. (Being a big Emily Blunt fan helps as well.)

YMMV

One thing I will say for Panzer Elite, while the panzers generally show up in the same place and time, sometimes they don't. Keeps you on your toes it does. Mind your tactics, they're important. Very important.

See you soon (ish).

Oh Boy ...

Source

Not only am I in the midst of doing my taxes (Feds are done Little Rhody is in work) but I had a recent notice that my driver's license needed renewal.

So I went on line last week to do it and, much to my chagrin ...

Okay, it wasn't that I didn't know the magic word (but I love that clip so ...) as much as it was a question of me needing a new photo for my license. The one on my current license being rather old. I still look like that, but older, and with a mustache.

So ...

Little Rhody now has you make an appointment for this sort of thing, absolutely no walk-ins. Which I'm okay with. It certainly has sped the process up and you don't have a room full of people waiting to be seen. Getting angrier as the clock ticks.

Now the last time I went was as a walk-in (shortly after the conclusion of the Pleistocene Epoch I believe it was) and as the office was in a brand new building, the employees were all rather in a good mood. (Take note you cheap-ass corporations with your shitty facilities, happy workers are more productive ...) And, as I asked one of the clerks, "So what happened to old Mrs. 'I Hate Everybody'?" - "Oh, she got fired two years ago, too many complaints about her attitude."

So yes, at least on my side of Little Rhody (the East Bay) we've got that going for us.

At any rate I was in and out in less than fifteen minutes, the folks working there were great and I was happy.

Until I remembered the construction on the bridge which connects Aquidneck Island with my hometown. Fifteen minute delay going to the island, and knowing the traffic flow, it would be at least twenty minutes going back. So I opted for a different bridge (Sakonnet for those who must know, vice the Mt. Hope Bridge, also known as the bridge of "Our Lady of Perpetual Repairs). Took more time but was way less deleterious to my blood pressure.

So yeah, I'm good with that.

Now back to the dadgum taxes ...

Yes, It's That Time of Year ...

Source

There will be a brief pause in the action, a day maybe two, while I fill out my tax forms.

Federal and State.

I owe, I owe, it's NOT off to work I go.

Getting used to retirement also involves doing one's retired income taxes for the first time.

Adjustments will need to be made, but all in all ...

The "damage" ain't as bad as last year.

Oh well, I just wish those creatures in Congress wouldn't waste so much of the money we give them. But waste it they do ...

Always have ...

Probably always will.

Leopard can't change its spots.

Too Dearly Bought¹ ...

Battle of Bunker Hill
Don Troiani
Source

Seamus looked down the slope once more, the regulars looked to be ready to come up the hill again. He was ready, his musket was loaded and though he was very thirsty, he felt that one more repulse like the first one and the redcoats might just call it a day.

From the top of Breed's Hill, he could just see the northern tip of Boston to his south. He could see Copp's Hill from where the British cannon had been firing earlier. They had ceased fire some time ago, no doubt to prevent hitting their own men.

Source

Billowing smoke from the fires in Charlestown occasionally obscured his view, but Seamus knew that the redcoats would be coming up again. He heard the drums begin anew, signaling yet another advance.

Though his mouth was parched, he suddenly had an overwhelming urge to urinate.

"Steady lads! Steady! Keep your dress, eyes to the front!"

Sergeant Andrews was theoretically in charge of the grenadier company, what was left of it at any rate. Rebuilt to a strength of 43 men after the battles of Lexington and Concord, the first assault had left 17 men of the regiment dead or dying in front of the rebel redoubt.

His company and another equally depleted company from the 5th Foot had been amalgamated for the second assault. They were now under the command of an officer Andrews had never seen before, a man named Marston. Andrews assumed he was the company commander of the men from the 5th they'd been grouped with for this second assault up the hill.

As he looked to the ranks, he sorely missed Corporal Holloway. He had no idea of his friend's fate. In the confused retreat down the hill, he had lost track of Thomas. He was sick to his stomach over that. God forbid his friend was still up on that bloody hill.

Corporal Tom Holloway groaned as he regained his senses, the smell of blood, burnt powder, and other things best not mentioned filled his nostrils. His head ached badly, he wasn't sure why.

He was lying some twenty yards down from the rebel earthwork, he could hear the colonials shouting encouragement to one another as he also heard the beat of the army's drums coming from down the hill towards the water.

He tried to think of how he'd gotten here, it had all happened so fast. Then it came to him in a blur. He remembered the billowing powder smoke of the first rebel volley and he vaguely remembered that the head of the man in front of him had seemed to explode, then his memory went blank.

Slowly, trying not to garner attention from the earthwork, Tom brought his hand up to his head. His thick hair felt gritty and slippery, when he brought his hand back down to examine it, he saw that it was bloody. Some jelly-like substance was on his fingers as well, then he saw the bits of bone amidst the blood. He'd been hit, and knocked silly, by a part of the man's skull, the man who had been hit to his front. He knew one could get killed just by flying bone and bits of shattered equipment on the battlefield. He knew how close he'd come to death.

As he lay there amidst the bodies of his slaughtered comrades, Corporal Tom Holloway emptied his stomach of that morning's breakfast. He began to shake uncontrollably.

The drums thumped and Andrews' company stepped off as they had before, the ranks were steady, unwavering, these men were trained to act as automatons, not as humans with free will. When the drums beat and the officers bellowed their commands, the line advanced. It was what they did, it was what they trained for, they knew no other way.

"Hawkins, dress your bloody line!" Andrews bellowed at one of his grenadiers.

"I'm doing my best ..."

"SILENCE IN THE RANKS!" Captain Marston barked from where he marched behind the men.

Andrews watched, Private Hawkins had probably stumbled in the long grass, or stepped on uneven ground, they weren't high enough on the hill yet to be stumbling over bodies and equipment, but they were getting close. Not ten yards to his front, Andrews saw a grenadier lying on his back, vacant gaze, glassy eyes, the man's chest torn open by musket fire.

Andrews shuddered.

On top of a building, Elizabeth Arnold couldn't see very much of what was going on across the Charles. Smoke from gunfire and the burning town of Charlestown were obscuring things enough so that even at a distance of less than a mile, details were nearly impossible to make out.

She and her employers had fled to Boston not long after the regulars had been to Concord. Ephraim and Rebecca Hamilton were loyal to the King and they were terrified of their fellow Americans now. There had been threats made after the battle which drove Mr. Hamilton to move his family and possessions to Boston.

"Bloody rebels can't get to us here, Mother. We're under the protection of the Royal Navy and the King's troops now."

Turning he had yelled at Lizzie to be gentle with a box of dishware she had been transferring from a wagon to the house they were renting not far from Boston Common.

"Damn it, lass! Those cost a fine penny, came all the way from London, they did!"

Rebecca Hamilton had chimed in immediately, "Mind your language, Father. What if the children were about?"

She had managed to slip away from the house under the pretense of discovering what was happening across the Charles. Many had seen the soldiers head down to the riverfront and board the boats to cross over to what the regulars called "Morton's Point." She was from the area and knew that the place was actually "Moulton's Point." She was a distant relation of the Moulton family.

She heard the rattle of drums from across the way and saw the red line of the soldiers begin to go back up the hill. She remembered the sergeant who had been kind to her, and his friend the corporal, whose name she couldn't remember. She hoped fervently that the two men, and their companions of course, were all right.

"Be careful over there, Allen, you and ..." then his name came to her, "... Tom. Be careful."

Will Hensley could hear the drums from across the way, from their position near the shingle they could see the left flank of the redoubt on the hill, but not the slope leading up to it. The light infantry had yet to make another attempt on their position, but the detritus of their first attack was still there to their front.

One of the soldiers had gotten very close to the improvised defenses before being cut down. Will dearly wished that he was still home in Derry as he studied the corpse sprawled not fifteen feet from him.

The man had been hit and had lived for a brief time. He had cried out for help, which his comrades couldn't provide and which his enemies cared not to provide. Will had been sickened by the death which lay before him, he had watched this English soldier die, so far from home.

Will was wondering if he would ever see New Hampshire again when his company commander cried out, "Here they come again, boys!"

Andrews was not forty paces from the rebel earthwork when he spotted Tom. He wondered if his friend yet lived when Tom had popped up and dashed down into the ranks.

"Was wondering if you fellows was gonna leave me up here!"

Captain Marston hadn't noticed Holloway rejoin the company but at that moment the rebels were up and leveling their muskets once more.

The shock of the volley staggered the company. More men went down, Marston was bent over, advancing as if walking into a gale-force wind. "Come on, lads! At them!"

Then another volley rippled down the line, more redcoated bodies littered the hill and the British Army once again reeled and fled back down the hill.

Seamus reached into his pouch, his hand came out with a single cartridge.

"Sergeant! I have no more ammunition!"

A number of men echoed that call up and down the line.

"Steady lads, I doubt they'll come back up this way. Load up what you have. If they come on again, one more volley should see the end of it."

Hensley and his company were falling back. He wasn't sure who had given the order nor did he care. Anything to get away from the stench of the dead lying on the field.

"Dinnae get yer hopes up, boys. We're just falling back to the neck, then we'll head back up to the earthwork to reinforce those lads. The light boys are done wi' us for the day, I'm thinking. Our fire was too hot for them!"

They hadn't reached Charlestown Neck when an officer, claiming to be from General Putnam² stopped them and redirected them up onto Bunker Hill proper.

"Old Put needs you boys up there," the officer had shouted, pointing up the slope, "in case the boys forwards on Breed's Hill need your help!"

So they had gone up the hill, and had no further participation in the struggle around the earthwork being assaulted by the soldiers of the Crown. Will Hensley didn't mind, he'd seen enough of war for one day.

Sergeant Andrews was angry, enraged that they were being fired upon by the colonials and enraged that his officers had no better plan than march straight into the colonials' massed musket fire.

"Jaysus, Allen, the bastards want to 'ave another go." Corporal Holloway had hissed at him.

"We can't just leave them there, Tommy, sittin' atop that hill, taunting the King like this. We take this hill, we take or kill as many of them as we can, then this war will die aborning. Leave them there and the bloody thing will drag on." Andrews hadn't meant to sound so angry, Tommy looked almost hurt at the tone.

"Sorry, Tommy, I didn't mean to bark at ye, but we can't let this defiance stand. Can we?"

"I suppose yer right, Sarge," Holloway paused in mid-sentence, something was afoot.

"Fall in, lads, one more thrust and we'll have them off yon damned hill!"

Captain Marston was bloodied, his hat was gone, his face was filthy, and the man was forcing the company to line up by sheer force of will.

It helped that the men were angry, they were embarrassed that they'd been forced down from the hill twice already, "by a damned mob of civilians," as one junior officer had said. All of Boston was watching it seemed to the men who looked back across the Charles, there was a very visible crowd along the river's edge and atop the roofs of Boston.

Andrews looked at Holloway and shrugged, "In for a penny ..."

"Battalion will ADVANCE!"

Battle of Bunker Hill
E. Percy Moran (PD)

Seamus fired his last round, the redcoats were within spitting distance now, more of them had fallen which seemed to only enrage the survivors. When the fire from the redoubt had sputtered out, the redcoats seemed to snarl and with guttural yells, came on at bayonet point.

"Better run, laddie, we've got nothing left."

Seamus' sergeant had tugged at Seamus' sleeve before taking off at a run himself. As the redcoats came over the parapet, American discipline had faltered, then collapsed. Everyone was trying to get out through the entrance to the rear of the redoubt when it was an easy enough climb over the walls of the earthwork itself. But the men remembered where they had entered the work, so they flowed to what they perceived as the only exit.

Many died because of that error.

The Redoubt, Battle of Bunker Hill, June 17, 1775
Don Troiani
Source

"What do ye think the butcher's bill will be, Sarge?" Holloway's left sleeve was bloody, a musket ball, probably fired by one of his comrades, had nicked his upper arm. It was bloody and rather painful but was, to be honest, a minor wound.

They were still in the redoubt, the colonials had been driven from the peninsula, even more falling as they crowded over the neck back to the mainland. Cannon fire from Royal Navy warships controlled access to the peninsula, they had been firing continuously as the Americans had scrambled to safety.

"I dunno, Tommy, I'd say over a thousand of our lads fell today. The hill is covered with the bodies of our regiments. What do we have left, maybe a dozen of the lads?"

"About that, of the lads who marched to Concord, not a handful are still with the colors."

Holloway looked into the sky, the stars were starting to appear, "Think this will be the end of it?"

Andrews looked into the gathering gloom, campfires could be seen in the distance, all around Boston. "There are a lot of those militiamen out there, Tommy. I think I was wrong when I said 'we take the hill and that'll be the end of it.' I don't think that lot out there are ready to quit. Not just yet anyway. Certain as the sun will come up tomorrow, we're in the middle of a war now, Tommy."

Holloway shook his head, "Damned nuisance, that, I'd rather fight the Frenchies than folks who were, up until a few months ago, fellow subjects of our good old King George."

Andrews looked at the ground beneath his feet, "Aye, but for now this is still English soil."

"But for how long, Sarge? For how long?"

¹ "The General’s returns will give you the particulars of what I call this unhappy day—I freely confess to you, when I look to the consequences of it, in the loss of so many brave Officers, I do it with horror—The success is too dearly bought." General Sir William Howe,  commanding the regulars, after the Battle of Bunker Hill.

² General Israel Putnam, nominally in command of the American troops during the battle. 

Wake

 

 

 Had a bit of a surprise this past week.  With respect to the accident, I was feeling pretty good.  Neck is still a bit sore, but a universe less pain than it had been.  Had an appointment on Thursday last and thought I'd be cleared to drive.  

Not so fast, juvat.  

Doctor: "Regarding AFlu (Atrial Fluctuation) when you passed out and were ambulated to the hospital, your heart rate was in the 120 Beats per minute range, a very dangerous rate. Surgery to Ablate the heart and install a Monitor.  That treatment worked and those symptoms are fine".

juvat: "So I can Drive?" Big Smile on my face!

Now for the REST of the Story! 

Doctor: "I'm sorry.  Because you had Syncope  (passing out) during the episode we now need to address the AFib  (Atrial Fibrillation in your heart)"

juvat: "Huh???? What's that entail? Hospital admission.""

Doctor: "No, the AFlu treatment required an "all in" Heart operation, to install a heart beat regulator.  This procedure is much less complicated.  We'll insert a catheter through the vein in your leg and use a bit of electricity to bring the rhythm back to normal.  You'll only be in the hospital for a couple of hours."

juvat: "Wonderful (sarcasm).  When will I be able to drive?"

Doctor: "3 more months. Syncope requires a full 6 months, without any incidents ,to release you to drive."

juvat: "Yay!"  Sarcasm is definitely in full scale drip mode.

So. Things are just splendid in juvat land.  Can't wait til Summer.

Anyhow,  on with the show!

 

Wake Island

So, There I was…* In receipt of orders to depart my hardship tour at CinCPAC headquarters, Camp Smith Hawaii, and proceed to what to what would be my final assignment in the Air Force.  Others referred to the next location as Fort Fumble, still others the Puzzle Palace.  I, with the true force of loathing, referred to it as the Northern Virginia Penitentiary for Wayward Fighter Pilots. Yes, some folks refer to it as the Pentagon, they are either non-Military types or if they are military, have sold their soul for their careers.  In other words, people I have no use nor any respect for.  But, now that I have gotten that off my chest, I will cease and desist with that digression vector and discuss where I PCS’d from.

But Juvat, you were assigned to Camp Smith, didn’t you PCS from there?  Technically, yes, but I actually left from Wake Island.  So, let’s get to that bit of oddity.

Back in the first term of Billy Jeff, before Monica, the United States actually attempted to enforce Immigration Laws.  (I know, I know.  How very Racist of us!).  As part of that enforcement, the US Coast Guard would board suspicious ships that were approaching the 12 mile limit.  Boarding them before reaching that limit was important, especially off the West Coast, because, even then, Liberal Judges would issue an injunction prohibiting their deportation until they had a chance to plead their case.  Those proceedings were always delayed and delayed….Thus ensuring that the Democrats had additional voters that Justice was served.

The problem is complicated by what the USCinCPAC Commander (he was the ranking 4 Star in all the Pacific services, and was Navy) at the time referred to his Area of Responsibility (AOR) as the “Tyranny of Distance”.  It’s a 6 hour plane ride from SFO to HNL, and depending on the winds, a 10 to 12 hour plane ride from HNL to Tokyo.  The USCG intercepts a ship carrying illegal aliens.  What does it do with them?  If they bring them ashore in the States, they’re home free.  Taking them all the way back to their home country ties up that Coast Guard asset for a long time.  An option is to find a Non-US territory that is willing to take them in until the illegal alien’s country of origin makes arrangements to recover them.  The US had some limited success in paying some friendly Pacific Island nations to do exactly that.  

China, of course, was the primary starting point of the illegals.  After a few ships were intercepted, (I am under no illusion that all, let alone most, were intercepted, so let’s settle for a “few”), China changed the game by insisting that the “refugees” were repatriated from “US held territory”.  They did this knowing full well the problem of bringing them into the US.

My job at CinCPAC HQ was to provide an augmentation team and train them in Joint Task Force planning and operations.  I drew my team from the Combat Commands on the island (PACAF, USARPac, CincPACFlt and MARFORPAC).  When activated, we’d deploy to one of the designated three star billet commands in the Pacific.  At the time, those were 7th Fleet, 3 MEF and I Corps.  We’d join with their Command Staff and become a JTF.  The concept worked pretty well, at least in exercises.

It’s around the 1st of July when I get called in to the CincPAC J-3s office, a Marine 2 star.  He tells me to ready the team and that sometime during the next week we’d be deploying.  No idea when or where, or to whom as yet.

I get the notification process started and prep the initial briefing.  Seems that a small Chinese fishing boat had been intercepted off the coast of California with 118 illegals aboard.  The State Department was negotiating with the Chinese for their return, but the Chinese were insisting that they be returned from US Held Territory.  Saipan and Tinian were not going to be acceptable.  Hawaii with its very Democrat infested liberal court system was definitely not an option.  We considered Midway, but discovered that also fell under the Hawaii’s District Court.  Finally, we found that Wake Island was an “unincorporated territory” of the United States. 

According to a Citation in Wikipedia (a source renowned throughout the world for its accuracy) an unincorporated territory is one "where fundamental rights apply as a matter of law, but other constitutional rights are not available".  Bingo.

The boat and escort are directed to Wake Island.  The JTF is to be created with the main manpower coming from one of the Army Battalions from the 25th ID.  They would include an infantry company, and some MPs.  A BG from the Division would be the CJTF.  My team would be the JTF staff.  PACAF would provide medical and dental support and personnel.  CincPacFlt would provide construction support.

The yellow line is 4500 miles long

It was going to take the boats about 2 weeks to transit and Wake’s facilities were not ready for a few hundred people to arrive.  It had been hosting a small team that supported launch activities from Kwajalein.  So there was some rudimentary facilities, a small clinic, dining hall and airport support.  The rest we’d have to bring or repair.

I’m sitting there looking at this operation knowing that I’m PCSing from this unit I’d trained. I also knew it was going into what was their first “real world” operation. I wanted to go, bad!  But I also knew that I had to be in DC by the end of August.

We have our initial meeting with the CJTF and he starts laying out the command structure.  I’m taking notes as fast as I can write.  He tells the Army Lt Col Battalion Commander he’s the Ground Forces Commander.  Lays out the Support Command structure and then starts on the JTF staff.  He looks at my replacement  (AF) who’s just been selected for O-6 and has been shadowing me for about a week and tells him he’s going to be the Chief of Staff.  Then looks at me and says “LtCol Juvat, you’re going to be my J-3.” (COO in civilian terms.)  I tell him about the PCS and he says “do you want to stay or go with us?”

“I want to go.”

“You’re in.”

Now, I’ve gotten most of the pre-PCS paper work done, but we’re now approaching that point where Physics is involved.  Physics being the actual moving of People and things.  To further complicate matters, my wife has already PCS’d to DC.  Fortunately, we had a live-in Nanny, who took care of my kids.  I deployed about 3 days later, while gone, she handled the movers, the clearing of quarters, the shipment of cars and the transportation of two unaccompanied minors. Talk about stepping up!  Kim, if you’re reading this, I still have a hard time believing you pulled it off.  And, even after all these years, thanks does not begin to express my gratitude.

The operation has two critical areas that are needed for success.  We have to restore facilities so they are fit for human habitation and we have to find enough Chinese linguists to communicate with the illegal aliens.  The first is constrained by time and the second by availability.

Wake had several buildings that had served as barracks in the 60s, so on arrival we selected the one in the best shape as the dorm for the illegals.  Best shape should really be least worse.  But the engineers got to work and by the time the boat arrived, the plumbing, lights and electricity all worked.  Bedding had been replaced.  It wasn’t the Hilton, but it beat the cargo hold of a fishing boat.  

We also had to come to terms with what we were going to do about the Enforcers.  They were a group of 10 men who were charged with bringing the illegals to the US.  The Coast Guard told us we would have to keep them separated from the rest of the group.  So we restored a separate facility and surrounded it with concertina.

To the best of my recollection, Top Left was the building housing the illegals, top right was for the enforcers and bottom was JTF operations.  

The boat and escort arrived.  We’re using the marina and a WWII landing craft to transport the illegals and their enforcers ashore.  The illegals are brought ashore first,  and given a quick in-processing, basically asked their name and given a quick medical check for anything serious. Then they were given a bus ride around to the other side of the island and checked in to the barracks.

This was high tide.  Low tide and the boat was 5 or 6 feet lower.
Source

We handled the enforcers a little differently, upon advice from the Coasties.  We’ve selected low tide for when this would happen as we didn’t want the enforcers to have a chance to scope out the arrival facilities.

The Coast Guard had kept them bound and on deck for essentially the entire trip.  Upon inspecting the fishing boat and hearing the stories of their actions, I’d have been tempted to troll for sharks with them.  I was not alone having similar temptations for them like that...by a long shot.

At low tide, the water level in the marina put the landing craft below the dock, so the occupants couldn’t see anything behind the edge.  We had a greeting party that took the names at the front.  That greeting party had been told at the first sign of resistance to move out of the way.  

Sure enough, we’d brought 3 or 4 of them up the ladder, hands bound in front, feet free when one of them starts to do the kung fu stuff.  The greeting party moved away, leaving the Bruce Lee wannabe face to face with a squad of infantry, bayonets ready in a cordon around the docking area.  Problem solved.

By now the illegals are in their dorm and have eaten.  The enforcers are in their area, have eaten and it’s getting dark.  Shortly after dark, I get a call saying we’ve got a fire in the enforcer’s area.  That was one of the scenarios we’d gamed out.  The security team had sheets of plywood and breached the concertina with them.  Again, with bayonets out, they herded the enforcers into one corner of the concertina away from the fire while another team put the mattress fire out.  

After the fire was out, we confiscated all the fire starters and cigarettes.  We also took away the remaining mattresses and put them back in their smoke damaged rooms.  It was quiet from then on out.

Things got pretty boring at that point.  The illegals were getting their three hots and were getting medical and dental care.  Their trip across the Pacific had been hellish.  Stuffed in a 500 square foot fish hold with a 55 gal drum for a toilet.  They’re only time on deck was when they were brought up to “entertain” the enforcers.  All of them were used that way.  Grandmothers, Grandfathers, Girls, Boys the entire group. 

Their medical condition reflected that abuse as did some of their dental problems. 

As I said, routine set in and the highlight of discussion was when was China going to accept them back.  It was about the 10th of August when the CJTF calls me in and says I should take the next 141 back.  

We had been redeploying the stuff and people we no longer needed and I now fell in that category.  I handed off the J-3 responsibilities to a Navy Commander who’d been in that shop.  She was very sharp and I wasn’t worried about the job not getting done.  As far as I can tell, she was the first female J-3.  Well done, Darah!

I flew in the 141 from Wake to Travis, hitched a ride from my Aunt to SFO and from there flew to Washington Reagan.  Met up with my wife and kids and the following Monday reported in at the Northern Virginia Penitentiary for wayward Fighter Pilots and began my sentence.

On August 12th, the Chinese relented and sent a DC-10 to pick up the illegals.  Transfer to the airliner went without a hitch.  And JTF Prompt Return was over.  

Later, when I transferred from the Air Staff to Current Ops on the Joint Staff, I worked next door to the Pacific section. The guy we had communicated with from Wake was still there.  I asked him what had happened to the Chinese when they had arrived in Beijing.  He said the illegals were sent home.  The enforcers were knelt down on the tarmac and shot in the back of the head.

Good.

A few months later, I received a memo saying that I was authorized to wear the Humanitarian Service Medal for participation in JTF Prompt Return.  I had a few rows of brightly colored cloth on my uniform when I retired.  That was the only one that gave me any satisfaction.

On a side note, if I ever decide to move to Rhode Island , I’m eligible for Veteran’s property tax relief.

* Standard Juvat Comment!