GOD IS GOOD...ALL THE TIME!

As we prepare to celebrate this wonderful holiday, we all need to keep in mind that it is based on how blessed we are to live in the country of our fathers and we live in the country that so many gave their lives for those freedoms.

Thank our heavenly Father for all He has blessed us with. Our salvation, our family, our many, many blessings. His Son saved us from an eternal life of suffering. Now, what a great relief to know that we will spend all eternity with Him. How His children should lift the roofs with praises for how "good our God" is. Full of mercies and grace. Thank you for being in my life and the joy of knowing that so many of you are my brothers and sisters in Christ. May you be with loved ones and have a blessed day.  God is good all the time. Let's remember those who are currently serving our country in hostile lands.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Recon Marine in Afghanistan

From the Sand Pit.  It's freezing here.  I'm sitting on hard, cold dirt between rocks and shrubs at the base of the Hindu Kush Mountains, along the Dar 'yoi Pomir River, watching a hole that leads to a tunnel that leads to a cave.  Stake out, my friend, and no pizza delivery for thousands of miles.

I also glance at the area around my ass every ten to fifteen seconds to avoid another scorpion sting.  I've actually given up battling the chiggers and sand fleas, but them scorpions give a jolt like a cattle prod.  Hurts like a bastard.  The antidote tastes like transmission fluid, but God bless the Marine Corps for the five vials of it in my pack.

The one truth the Taliban cannot escape is that, believe it or not, they are human beings, which means they have to eat food and drink water.  That requires couriers and that's where an old bounty hunter like me comes in handy.  I track the couriers, locate the tunnel entrances & storage facilities, type the info into the handheld, and shoot the coordinates up to the satellite link that tells the air commanders where to drop the hardware.  We bash some heads for a while, and then I track and record the new movement.

It's all about intelligence.  We haven't even brought in the snipers yet.  These scurrying rats have no idea what they're in for.  We are but days away from cutting off supply lines and allowing the eradication to begin.

I dream of bin Laden waking up to find me standing over him with my boot on his throat as I spit into his face and plunge my K-Bar through his frontal lobe.  But you know me, I'm a romantic.  I've said it before and I'll say it again: This country blows, man.  It's not even a country.  There are no roads, there's no infrastructure, there's no government.  This is an inhospitable rock pit shit hole ruled by eleventh century warring tribes.  There are no jobs here like we know jobs.

Afghanistan offers two ways for a man to support his family: join the opium trade or join the army.  That's it.  Those are your options.  Oh, I forgot, you can also live in a refugee camp and eat plum-sweetened, crushed beetle paste, and squirt mud like a goose with stomach flu, if that's your idea of a party.  But the smell alone of those 'tent cities of the walking dead' is enough to hurl you into the poppy fields to cheerfully scrape bulbs for eighteen hours a day.

I've been living with these Tajiks, Uzbeks, Turkmen, and even a couple of Pushtuns, for over a month-and-a-half now, and this much I can say for sure:  These guys, all of 'em, are Huns...  Actual, living Huns...  They LIVE to fight.  It's what they do.  It's ALL they do!  They have no respect for anything, not for their families, nor for each other, nor for themselves.  They claw at one another as a way of life.  They play polo with dead calves and force their five-year-old sons into human cockfights to defend the family honor.  Huns, roaming packs of savage, heartless beasts who feed on each other's barbarism.  Cavemen with AK-47's.  Then again, maybe I'm just cranky.

I'm freezing my ass off on this stupid hill because my lap warmer is running out of juice, and I can't recharge it until the sun comes up in a few hours.  Oh yeah!  You like to write letters, right?  Do me a favor, Bizarre.  Write a letter to CNN and tell Wolf and Anderson and that awful, sneering, pompous Aaron Brown to stop calling the Taliban 'smart...'  They are not smart!  I suggest CNN invest in a dictionary because the word they are looking for is 'cunning.'  The Taliban are cunning, like jackals, hyenas, and wolverines.  They are sneaky and ruthless, but when confronted.... cowardly.  They are hateful, malevolent parasites who create nothing and destroy everything else.  Smart...  Pfft.  Yeah, they're real smart.

They've spent their entire lives reading only one book (and not a very good one, as books go) and consider hygiene and indoor plumbing to be products of the devil.  They're still trying to figure out how to work a Bic lighter.  Talking to a Taliban warrior about improving his quality of life is like trying to teach an ape how to hold a pen; eventually he just gets frustrated and sticks you in the eye with it.

OK, enough.  Snuffle will be up soon, so I have to get back to my hole.  Covering my tracks in the snow takes a lot of practice, but I'm good at it.

Please, I tell you and my fellow Americans to turn off the TV sets and move on with your lives.  The story line you are getting from CNN and other news agencies is utter bullshit and designed not to deliver truth but rather to keep you glued to the screen through the commercials.  We've got this one under control.  The worst thing you guys can do right now is sit around analyzing what we're doing over here, because you have no idea what we're doing, and really, you don't want to know.  We are your military, and we are doing what you sent us here to do.

You wanna help?  Buy Bonds America .

Saucy Jack

Recon Marine in Afghanistan

Semper Fi

"Freedom is not free...but the U.S.  Marine Corps will pay most of your share!

Rise of the Cyber Wingman

Every day, malicious code, worms, botnets and hooks attack Air Force computers hardware, software and the Internet. They infiltrate classified information and compromise national security. In response, Air Force officials are stepping up their mission to defend cyberspace.

Mission success is the goal of protecting networks from attack. In August, Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. Norton Schwartz outlined steps Air Force officials are taking to centralize this mission. He said that those steps are just the beginning.

"To make significant progress we must also change the way we think about the cyberspace domain," General Schwartz wrote to Air Force members in a service-wide e-mail.

Cyberspace adversaries attack Department of Defense computer networks every day. They range from individual hackers, criminal organizations and terrorists to nation states. Though they aren't successful the majority of the time, they have stolen classified information from networks and computers, including future weapon systems, logistics information and Airmen's personal information.

The most common way of getting information is phishing. This attack targets the weakest link in network security: the user. It involves sending e-mails containing attachments and linked Web sites that appear legitimate. Phishing tricks Airmen into downloading malicious code which provides a door into that network or computer from remote locations. Phishing happens at work or home.

"Applying our wingmen in the cyberspace domain gives us a powerful advantage; every Airman is a defender in cyberspace," said Gen. C. Robert "Bob" Kehler, the commander of Air Force Space Command.

The activation of 24th Air Force Aug. 18 helped define Air Force requirements and establishes training standards for cyber warriors. The next step is to educate every Airman about the cyber wingman campaign.

"We must all conduct ourselves as "Cyber Wingmen," recognizing that our actions and activities on the network affect every other Airman and impact our ability to execute the broader Air Force mission," General Schwartz said.

The "Rise of the Cyber Wingman" philosophy incorporates the following 10 guiding principles every Airman needs to know and use to secure cyberspace.

1. The United States is vulnerable to cyberspace attacks by relentless adversaries attempting to infiltrate our networks -- at work and at home -- millions of times a day, 24/7.

2. Our adversaries plant malicious code, worms, botnets and hooks in common Web sites, software and hardware such as thumbdrives, printers, etc.

3. Once implanted, this code begins to distort, destroy and manipulate information, or "phone" it home. Certain code allows our adversaries to obtain higher levels of credentials to access highly sensitive information.

4. The adversary attacks your computers at work and at home knowing you communicate with the Air Force network by e-mail, or transfer information from one system to another.

5. As cyber wingmen, you have a critical role in defending your networks, your information, your security, your teammates and your country.

6. You significantly decrease our adversaries' access to our networks, critical Air Force information, and even your personal identity, by tak¬ing simple action.

7. Do not open attachments or click on links unless the email is digitally signed, or you can directly verify the source; even if it appears to be from someone you know.

8. Do not connect any hardware or download any software, applications, music or information onto Air Force networks without approval.

9. Encrypt sensitive but unclassified and/or mission critical information. Ask your computer security administrator for more information.

10. Install the free Department of Defense anti-virus software on your home computer. Your CSA can provide you with your free copy.

"By embracing, understanding and applying each of these rules, we will deliver on our promise to fly, fight and win in air, space and cyberspace," General Schwartz said.

HAPPY VETERANS DAY

Link: PHOTO GALLERY

FORT HOOD MASSACRE

Let us all pause and say a prayer for all the soldiers and civilians that lost their lives in this brutal attack.

THE OLD PHONE

THIS WAS ONE OF THE 'GOOD OLD DAYS' WHEN PEOPLE REALLY CARED ABOUT EACH OTHER...

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. "Information Please"  could supply anyone's number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my Mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing, climbing up; I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.

'Information, please,' I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"Information" 

"I hurt my finger," I wailed into the phone. 

The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

'Isn't your mother home?" came the question.

"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.

'Are you bleeding?' the voice asked.

"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."

"Can you open the icebox?" she asked. I said I could.

"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me, the pet chipmunk I had caught in the park, just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. 

I called, "Information Please," and told her the sad story. 

She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. 

But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?" 

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, 

"Wayne , always remember that there are other worlds to sing in."
Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone, 

"Information Please."

"Information," said in the now familiar voice.

"How do I spell fix?" I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.

Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity, I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle.  I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown Operator and said,

"Information Please..." 

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. "Information." 

I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."

I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"

"I wonder," she said,
"If you know how much your call meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle.  A different voice answered:  "Information."

I asked for Sally.

"Are you a friend?" she said.

"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."

Before I could hang up she said, 

"Wait a minute, did you say your name was  Wayne ?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you." The note said,

"Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant..

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.

Whose life have you touched today?

Lifting you on eagle's wings. 

May you find the joy and peace you long for.
Life is a journey, NOT a guided tour.... 

So don't miss the ride and have a great time going around.  

You don't get a second shot at it.
I loved this story and just had to pass it on. 

I hope you enjoy it and get a blessing from it just as I did.

GRANDSON ALERT

 CONGRATULATIONS to Bob & Francine on the birth of their first grandchild, Julian Ryder Stavella, born 9/24/09, 9 lbs, 7 oz, 19 inches  Julian is the son of Ryan & Laura Stavella.

Ryan, Baby Julian & Laura Stavella

CHEYENNE

Night Lights of Capitol Avenue

Atlas Theater

Capitol Avenue

Capitol Avenue

Tee Pees

Cheyenne Sunset

WYOMING

Faith and You
By Terry Pluto - September 26, 2009, 4:55 AM
 
    I don’t think much about heaven, other than that I want to go there. There are some images of heaven with angels floating on clouds and playing harps, or perhaps of heaven as a never-ending church service where people sing and pray until they drop. I don’t know what heaven will be like, but I doubt either of those portraits is correct.
    Last Saturday, I flew to Denver to cover the Browns game. I’m not sure what that 27-6 loss to Denver was; it sure wasn’t heaven. But the day before that game, I went to southern Wyoming and thought a lot about heaven.
    I drove down roads where I saw more pronghorn antelope than I did cars and people. I drove down roads where I saw signs reading, “Next services, 34 hours.” I drove down roads where, when it snows, they drop gates and close the interstates until the storm passes. I drove down roads under high skies and huge clouds that seemed to rise up to the heavens. I drove down roads through miles of open pastures, roads where my cellphone was long out of range. I drove down roads that made me think of a line from novelist Dan O’Brien, “You have a sense that everyone can see you, but no one is looking.” That may bother some people, who are uneasy about all the rugged, lonely hills and valleys. For those who love a crowd and the 50% off sale at the mall, a state with 522,830 people and an estimated 550,000 antelope may not have much appeal.
    I have been to Wyoming at least a dozen times. On each visit, I think how the land is not tamed by man. Some mountains are too high, some rivers too wild, some storms too fierce. I know that there are days when Wyoming can seem like hell on earth during a blizzard, a dust storm, or with a blown radiator in the middle of nowhere and no one around to call for help. But I didn’t think of that as I drove south of Laramie. I saw
several herds of pronghorns — 10 over here, 25 there, at least 50 ahead on top of the hill.

    For 10 miles, not a single car was on the road. In Isaiah 65:17, God says, “Behold, I will create a new heaven and a new earth.” I had a taste of it as I drove west on Wyoming 130 into the Snowy Mountains. They rose 10,000 feet with the sun peeking behind snow-capped peaks. Rather than spend any time wondering how such a place was created, I was in awe of God’s hand and power behind it all.
    Then I saw a truck on the other side of the road, a man standing near it, staring into the woods. I slowed down and spotted a huge horse with antlers . . . only, it was a moose in a clearing. I stopped and walked over to the man. “There’s four of ’em,” he said. Then a female moose and two young ones ambled out from behind some bushes, joining the big bull. We watched them silently for about five minutes, me wondering what exactly got into God when he created a strange creature like a  moose. Sheer entertainment, I suppose. Finally, the four moose disappeared back in the woods. The other man and I left, too, nodding to each other but not saying a word.
    First Corinthians 2:9 reads: “As it is written: ‘No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him. ” But that Saturday in Wyoming, I was given just a glimpse. 

AIR FORCE HOLDS MEMORIAL

CHEYENNE -- The Air Force held a memorial service for deceased missile workers Friday at a celebration here marking the 50th anniversary of nuclear deterrent defense in America.

In 1959, the first land-based intercontinental ballistic missiles, or ICBMs, in the country went on alert in the midst of the Cold War.

Since then, the men and women who have maintained and operated those missiles have fulfilled their mission of nuclear deterrence and kept America safe, retired chaplain Maj. Gen. Charles C. Baldwin said at the service.

On Friday, the Air Force honored those missileers who have died, either while performing their duties or otherwise.

“Our Air Force didn’t face the dangers of World War II and Korea,” retired Chaplain Charles G. Simpson said. “We’ve had very few fatalities in our business.”

Still, there have been crews killed in crashes, fires, explosions and accidents, he said.

He asked the airmen, officers and ICBM community gathered at the memorial to honor those who paved the way for today’s missileers and those who continue to serve in their crucial mission.

Missile defense is “another good fight,” Baldwin added. “It is among the most critical fights that will ever be fought.”

He thanked God and the former missileers that the weapons have not had to be launched.

“How do we honor those who have gone before?” he asked. “Renewed commitment to not blink is one way.”

The participants stood to observe a moment of silence and the playing of Taps. The memorial was part of the 50th anniversary symposium hosted by F.E. Warren Air Force Base over the last few days. Representatives from bases across the country attended.

After the memorial, the symposium concluded with a presentation of original artwork to the Air Force commemorating the anniversary.

Secretary of the Air Force Michael Donley accepted the artwork on behalf of the Air Force. It will be displayed at his office at the Pentagon.

CLASSIC

GI BILL

Total GI Bill Benefit Now Hits Over $49,000

As of October 1, 2009 the monthly GI Bill payment rate increased 3.6% to $1,368. This money is not a loan, but a benefit you’ve earned to help pay for a degree or professional certificate.

The first step in using this money is to Find Military Friendly Schools who value Veterans by offering college credit for service. Military.com works with hundreds of accredited schools that can save you time in the class room and are familiar with the GI Bill.

Request Free Information from Schools Who Offer Credit for Service in the Air Force. 

EVEN IN TEXAS?

BACK, SAFE & SOUND

Paul Naples recently has surgery for prostate cancer and is back home in Worcester, NY. His doctors in Detroit gave him a clean bill of health and said the cancer was contained to his prostate and all margins around it are clear! He made the trip with his daughters and they slowly made their way back through Canada to NY. Hooray for Paul! See you in June, old buddy!

OLE'

I just talked to David Ohler. He was one of the original 809th Comm. Sq. Atlas cable splicers. When I arrived, he was already there with Busby, Jarvis, Walraven, Boyce, Sgt. Valley Joe, Sgt. Yamamoto and others. Dave's in Idaho and in the process of selling his home and then moving to Joplin, MO. Welcome aboard Dave....see you in June!!!

SHANK !!

I located Garry L. Shank, West Chester, PA. Garry and his wife, Flo, are retired and traveling around in their RV. When I spoke to him he was at his son's in Lynchburg, VA. After a short visit they will be traveling down to Florida to visit his daughter and then stay in Florida for the Winter. He also plans to attend our reunion next year in Cheyenne.

SAY A PRAYER

Paul Jeter Naples recently had an ICD (defibrillator) put in and everything went well. Today, he goes in for prostate surgery and will be back home on Sept. 25th. Please keep him in your prayers.

LABOR DAY

The holiday originated in Canada out of labor disputes ("Nine-Hour Movement") first in Hamilton, then in Toronto, Canada in the 1870s, which resulted in a Trade Union Act which legalized and protected union activity in 1872 in Canada. The parades held in support of the Nine-Hour Movement and the printers' strike led to an annual celebration in Canada. In 1882, American labor leader Peter J. McGuire witnessed one of these labor festivals in Toronto. Inspired from Canadian events in Toronto, he returned the USA, to New York and organized the first American "labor day" on September 5 of the same year.

The first Labor Day in the United States was celebrated on September 5, 1882 in New York City. In the aftermath of the deaths of a number of workers at the hands of the US military and US Marshals during the 1894 Pullman Strike, President Grover Cleveland put reconciliation with Labor as a top political priority. Fearing further conflict, legislation making Labor Day a national holiday was rushed through Congress unanimously and signed into law a mere six days after the end of the strike. Cleveland was also concerned that aligning a US labor holiday with existing international May Day celebrations would stir up negative emotions linked to the Haymarket Affair. All 50 U.S. states have made Labor Day a state holiday.

Have a safe and great Labor Day weekend!