A Son's Salute

Staff Sergeant George Layno, USMC, in 1944

Growing old is one of those things that no one can stop. Time marches on relentlessly. Memorial Day is one of those days when we stop and actually see just how much time has past. We honor the veterans, past and present, dead and alive. This is as it should be. Without them, we wouldn't be here, plain and simple. I feel very lucky that no one in mine or my wife's family has been/is in the Middle East this Memorial Day. That is not to say that there isn't a sadness that hangs over Memorial Day for me. There is.

In my immediate family, my father has been the only one to serve in the military in the last 100 years. (On my wife's side, they were in World War II, Korea and Vietnam.) And even though he survived (obviously since I AM here), his death 5 years ago still stings on days such as this.

Dad was born in 1917 to Slovak immigrants in Pennsylvania. His generation being the first generation born in America. When war clouds started gathering in the late 1930's, Dad joined the United States Marine Corps and served from 1940 to 1946. His first trip to the South was to Boot Camp at Paris Island, South Carolina and he went to pre-Castro Cuba to Guantanamo Bay Naval Base for amphibious training. He saw combat in the South Pacific. His first combat was on a small island that most people have never heard of and if they have, they have no idea what happened there and what this little island of volcanic origin has to do with the war. It is called Guadalcanal. It is an island that is a part of the Solomon Islands chain just northeast of Australia.

The Japanese were building an airfield on this tropical island less than a thousand miles from Australia. This put the island continent in real danger of being invaded. The brass in Honolulu (Admiral Nimitz) decided a stand had to be made and Guadalcanal was just as good a place as any. The Marines of the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force would be the tip of the spear, and expendable. Just 9 months after Pearl Harbor, on August 7th, 1942, Marines of the 1st Marine Division, based at the newly formed Camp LeJeune Marine Base, Jacksonville, North Carolina were headed in to this ancient volcanic jungle. They all knew that if they couldn't get a foot hold on the beach, there was no way to get back off. It was literally do or die. On the second wave coming in that day was a green sergeant assigned to communications, Headquarters company, 3rd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment of the 1st Marine Division. Luckily for him and the other 16,000 Marines, the Japanese had not reinforced the island and only a token garrison and construction workers were on the island. Within two days, the Marines had a toe hold on Guadalcanal and had taken the unfinished airfield, christened, Henderson Field, named for Major Lofton Henderson, a Marine aviator who had been killed at the Battle of Midway several months before. The Allies had started their "island hopping" campaign to Tokyo.

Dad would tell "war stories" when I was growing up. But it was years later that I realized he hadn't told all of the stories. He would tell of the time he and future Medal of Honor winner, Carlton Rue would go out "sniper hunting." As Dad would say, this was a fool hardy thing. He and Carlton would gather up all kinds of gear and go out into the jungle looking for Japanese snipers hanging in the cocoanut trees. Within a short time, both Dad and Carlton realize this was no game, especially when a Japanese bullet from a sniper whizzed by their heads. Dad would end the story by saying that they dropped all of the gear, including weapons and ammunition and as far as he knew, it was still in the jungle, exactly where they dropped it all of those years ago. Being in a communications section meant he didn't do many of the patrols and such, but he did get out and run telephone wire from the different positions back to the Headquarters and did run into his share of Japanese scouts. Dad got through the whole war without a single physical scratch.

Carlton wasn't so lucky. Before the Marines were relieved off the island, Carlton found himself in a fox hole with 3 other Marines during a Japanese attack when a Japanese hand grenade rolled in. Without thinking, Carlton jumped on the grenade and it exploded, ripping out his stomach. For his actions, Sergeant Carlton Rue was awarded the Medal of Honor for his bravery, quick thinking and saving the lives of three fellow Marines. Carlton was badly injured, but was evacuated off the island and lived into his 70's working for the Veterans Administration and remained friends with Dad until his death in the early 1990's.

Dad would tell of the night of the Battle for Point Lunga. Point Lunga was a small sand spit that came out of the Lunga River into the Pacific Ocean. The Japanese were desperate to get control of Guadalcanal and force the Marines back into the sea. To do this, the Japanese Navy would run what the Marines called the "Tokyo Express." This was an almost nightly convoy of Japanese naval ships bringing in troops and supplies and our navy along with the Australian Navy would take them on. On this night, the Tokyo Express were landing troops on the beach. What the Japanese hadn't planned on that the Marines had intercepted their communications and were ready with two defensive positions, one on each side of the sand spit and as the Japanese landed, they were cut down with crossing fire. Dad wasn't a part of the battle, but watched it from the river bank along with other Marines. Six thousand Japanese lay dead in the surf by morning. These were the stories I heard growing up.

About a year or so before his death, Dad gave me a book that detailed many of the battles on Guadalcanal. Details that I had never heard or seen before. One of the battles that it detailed was the Battle for Bloody Ridge, so named for the number of Japanese killed trying to take a ridge that overlooked the Marines position. This is one of the most famous battles of Guadalcanal. The mistake of the Japanese were they landed on the other side of the island and then hiked over the mountains bringing large artillery pieces and by the time they arrived at the Marines' position, they were in no condition to fight, but that didn't stop the Japanese commanders from ordering charge after charge after charge up the ridge. With the Marines on the high ground, all they had to do was fire down and the Japanese solders melted away, hence the name, Bloody Ridge. The attack lasted all night and several times, the Japanese sent solders in force to try and break the lines and came close to taking certain parts of the line on several occasions. As I am reading the account, a mortar company that was familiar to me but I had not previously known had been involved with the action jumped out at me. M Company, 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines, M-3-5. Toward the end of the Marines stay on Guadalcanal, Dad was transferred from Headquarters company to a mortar company, specifically, M-3-5. The next time I saw Dad I asked him if he was in M-3-5 for that battle. He looked down, distraught and said, "Yes, son, I was there and we killed a many of those slant eyed bastards. Either we killed them or they were determined to kill us. They shouted 'Banzi' all night long as they came up the ridge and several times almost broke through. It was the worst night of my life..." his voice trailed off and he wouldn't say anything else about it. For the first and only time in my life, he admitted he had killed men in battle. The "funny thing happened" stories or the "I saw this" stories of my childhood never had him killing someone. I could tell it bothered him badly. I obtained a renewed respect and love for him. I saw him in a different light. He could have said, yeah I was there but I wasn't involved or no I wasn't there. He was honest. He had seen the horrors of war, and didn't want to remember those times, but the "good times" of camaraderie or bravery of someone else. He never admitted to being a hero and when in November of 2000 at the ground breaking of the World War II Memorial in Washington, DC, some high school kids from New Hampshire asked him if he was a hero. He teared up and said a line that others have said, "no, he wasn't a hero. But he served with heros and many of them never came home."

Even though the men in the HBO mini series "Band of Brothers" were US Army Paratroopers (101st Division, US Army), I see so much of my father in those men. Simple men, with a terrible job to do, but understanding what would happen if they didn't. Unpretentious men, who loved their country and were willing to pay the ultimate price if it meant their children would have a better life. Dad never got to see that show, it came out after is death. But I think he would have love it.

My Mother tells of when they would go to the mall in Jacksonville (they lived at Morehead City, 30 miles from Jacksonville and Camp LeJeune) with friends of my Dad's whom he had served with, and would "hold court" while the women went shopping. He had a 1st Marine Division ball cap that he had pins from conventions and such that he would wear. All of the men did. The young Marines that were at the mall would recognize the patch and stop and ask the men if they had served. If the young Marine had time, the old vets would regale them with war stories of the South Pacific. They had them eating out of their hands. At some point, the young Marines would usually say that they hoped if they had to go to combat, they would have the same courage the old vets did. The response would be, "listen to your leaders, train hard, follow orders, and the rest will work itself out."

Dad died in May 2001 at the age of 84. I am thankful he didn't live to see 9/11. But there are times I wish he had. After 9/11, all of the things that he talked about growing up that didn't make any sense to me at the time, became crystal clear. How I would love to be able to talk to him about things military now. His beloved 1st Marine Division was the division that went into Baghdad in 2003 when the war began. Those Leatherneck's proved him right. They listened to their leaders, trained hard, followed orders, and the rest worked itself out. Better trained then he was. Better equipped then he was. He would be in owe of them and damn proud of them.

It took me over 40 years to figure it out, but not only did he teach me to live, in the end, he taught me how to die as well. For years he had said that he had had a good long life and when his time came, he was ready. The Marines had let him travel the world, he had survived, had two families with a son in each family, good friends and a healthy life. What more could he have asked for? Well in my mind, he left too soon, but he is indeed in a better place now. And on days like Memorial Day, I not only remember the military man, but the father as well. I owe him more than I could ever repay. My one wish is to be half the man he was. If I could do that, my life would be complete.

I love you Dad, and miss you. Semper Fi.

Another One Bites the Dust, eh maybe not.

Picture stolen from fellow employee Stewart "Lenslinger" Pittman's lenslinger.com blog. That is Stewart on the right.

I had no idea I would be blogging about American Idol so soon but here I am. Not that I am up in arms about the latest idol cast off, but it was sad when Ryan Seacrest announced that the last North Carolinian on the show was booted off. I had hoped that McLeansville's Chris Daughtry would go all the way. He has the chops and not one of those "idol" types. He is a rocker and we need more rockers in the world.

In retrospect, it may be the best thing America could have done for him. If he had been hung with the mantle of "Idol '06" for at least the next 12 months, he would be singing "their songs" and doing "their concerts" and "doing their events" and to be honest, I don't see Mr. Daughtry putting up with that for much more than a day at best.

I have never met him. I hope I get the chance. Had he not been booted off, there was to have been a concert with his old band, Absent Element, that was to be taped Friday and then shown on the show next week. I had thought about going to that and see him live. When the bad news hit, all of that was cancelled. So he now goes on a week or two press junket for AI, and then has to get ready for the finale that the Top 12 will perform in and off on the AI summer tour. After that, he is free to sign with whomever wants him. I see him receiving many offers. He is just too good not to be.

I saw the satellite tour interview of Mr Daughtry on our air this morning and he really looked bummed out. His wife had said that he really wasn't into it until he made the Top 24 and his take on things changed and he really wanted it and worked at it. I think if you look back on it, you can see how much he has improved.

Later in the morning on Ryan Seacrest's KISS-FM Los Angeles morning show, when he was interviewing Mr Daughtry, he announced that a major group had inquired about Mr Daughtry services. No names mentioned and it seemed Mr Daughtry was truly surprised to hear it. Later in the day, the entertainment show Extra announced that the rock band Fuel wants to make an offer to hire him as their new lead singer when his contract with AI is finished. They were impressed with his singing of the group's song, "Hemorrhage (In My Hands)" on the March 1st installment of American Idol.

About 2 hours later, I saw him out of the corner of my eye on the FOX station in Los Angeles, KTTV, and his spirits seemed lifted over his earlier local interview. I didn't have time to listen to the majority of it (too busy working), but for the 30 seconds or so I saw, he seemed to be in a better mood. I can only assume the accolades from the other interviews he had already received as well as the news from Ryan Seacrest was a major factor for his better humor.

It would not surprise me to hear within 6 months he has moved his family from the Triad to the "left coast" as he either makes his debut album or is working with a major group either on tour or on an album. As they say in the biz, "he will land on his soft cats paws."

When that happens, he can thank American Idol for NOT making him their "idol." He will be better off.

A Little Girl in A Big World

I was awoke at 6:30 am by the wife to tell me that American Idol contestant Kellie Pickler would be at the station for the morning news and she wants her picture taken with Miss Pickler and needs the camera. Not what I wanted to hear first thing in the morning. ("Good morning, honey" would have been better) Of course the camera battery wasn't charged. I told her I would get up, get the battery on change and be at the station before 8. Miss Pickler wasn't scheduled to be on air before 7:30 and was to be there all morning. Well until the end of the show at 9 anyway, so there would be plenty of time for her picture.

I watch American Idol not as a fan but for work. American Idol having the largest viewing audience on television right now, not to mention in the Triad next to NASCAR races, is a big deal at work. If I am watching and something happens I will know it before the station can call and I have a good chance of getting it corrected before viewers start to tune out. Well, that is the plan anyway. The fact that in the top 12 we had three contestants (Chris Daughtry, McLeansville; Bucky Covington, Rockingham; Heather Cox, Jonesville) who are viewers of ours, along with their family and friends, makes it a good business move. (If you are off the air, you are not making money.) For the moment, Idol is paying the bills so you treat it with care.

Miss Pickler was on a publicity tour after being voted off the show two weeks prior. Being from Abermarle, a mere 60 miles from the station, we were on the back end of a kids dream come true tour. Miss Pickler has that awe shucks Gomer Pyle country hick style of personality. Just because someone acts like a hick, doesn't mean they are not smart. (Think Dolly Parton.) Far from it. Miss Pickler may not like calamari, or doesn't know the double entendre of "minx," but under the bleach blond hair, I suspected she had more of a brain than many people gave her credit for. Of course on a show like American Idol, it is shot in such a way, you really only see what the producers want you to see. Hype and image is king when you talk about ratings and the money it brings. I was curious to see if my hunch was right about Miss Pickler.

When it looked like there was going to be time for pictures, we were herded into the Production Studio where an "American Idol" set has been created. It is really just some very large AI posters hung from the lighting grid and a riser with tall folding studio chairs for sitting. Miss Pickler was shown to the only chair on the riser and asked to sit for a bumper shot to tease her upcoming call in segment. As she navigated to the riser in her simple outfit of a brown leather jacket, white tank top, form fitting jeans and leopard skin wooden sole high heel shoes, the look of an intelligent woman replaced the bubbly smiley kid that America has come to know. As Miss Pickler set on the set waiting for her turn on the air, her eyes darted around the studio drinking everything in. It is obvious that some of Hollywood has rubbed off on her and she has gotten quite good at knowing what she needs to do in a television studio, and not just the Hollywood fashion either, but the business side and what it takes to stay there and that is what she is up against now. She has been given a small window to try and make something happen that will last for a while at least. And she has her eyes wide open trying not to miss a single thing.

The floor director cues her and that big toothy smile turns on and her right hand starts waving and the Kellie Pickler that viewers have come to know and love comes to life.

After the bumper shot, she is escorted to the interview area trying to not step on cables and more importantly not to trip and fall off her heels and cause a commotion (how do women wear those things anyway?) as she dodges the paraphernalia of a television studio, where she will wait for the call in segment and where she could be on the air for a wave and smile if needed for more teases prior to her segment. Well no pictures, not enough time. Maybe in a little while.

I stood in the now darkened Production Studio and watched a very mature young woman, not a silly little girl, as some think, asking questions, answering questions and just enjoying life. Grateful for having the opportunity to be in such a wondrous position. I was impressed with her. She is naive, but not dumb (my hunch was right) and she catches on quickly. She understands she is not in Kansas anymore and really does enjoy what she is doing. What you see is what you get.

Growing up in a small town like Abermarle is unique in itself. But Miss Pickler has had it tough in life. No real mother, father who wasn't there, raised by her grandfather, and a dream to sing and get out of town to a better life. But in this short time of 4 months, she has gone from queen of the roller drive in, to heart throb of young boys and the admiration of young girls who can see themselves, through her, standing up on the stage belting it out. She seems to have discovered that being from a small town isn't so bad and the fame she has acquired could all leave just as fast. That "country smarts" of growing up in a small town isn't the big city sophistication and she may not catch on as fast for calamari or minx's, but she has good ole common sense and that will take her much further than "big city smarts" ever could. If she can muster the talent level needed and she can keep the breaks coming her way, her stint on American Idol is the start of what small town girls dream of.

Oh, yeah, the wife got her picture. All I got was to take it.

End Round One

Zacarias Moussaoui
AP Photo

"America, you lost. I won," Zacarias Moussaoui said, clapping his hands as he was led out of the courtroom after the verdict of life in prison without parole was read. As the only person to be brought to trial for the attacks on 9/11, he definitely wasn't the "big man" he wanted everyone to think he was. This guy needs a capital L painted on his forehead for "LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSER." Al Qaeda "wannabe" is a better moniker.

I hate to say it, but this trial lends credence that everyone one of these "Al Kinda's" need to be weeded out in a military tribunal than in the public court spotlight. Moussaoui, whether to his credit or to his stupid dumb luck, used our court system as his personal bully pulpit to spew what ever came to his lips, whether it made sense or not and the fourth estate, hung on every unconnected word.

I feel sorry for U.S. District Judge Leonie Brinkema who had to ride herd over this circus. On one hand trying to keep decorum in the court, while on the other hand trying not to trample the rights Moussaoui had being a US citizen. Now for the jury in this case, I have but one thing to say to them, "What the hell were you people smoking in that jury room?"

I know it was tough sitting in that courtroom with that nut case day in and day out, but how he was raised has NOTHING to do with the crime he was charged with. I know he wanted to die to be a martyr for his God and Osama bin Laden, and that had to be considered, but I would have felt MUCH better had they said they couldn't sentence him to death because there wasn't enough evidence or he was being tried for the wrong crime or something like that, but because his father beat him and his mother left him? Sounds like jury tampering by the ACLU.

This is scary. Talk about afraid of sending the wrong message, the message that was sent in big neon letters to the terrorists was "You can plot and plan and be apart of the worst attack on US soil, kill 3000 plus people and don't worry, we won't kill you. We will feel sorry for you. We will have mercy on you."

This is a war people. World War 3. And I think we should start calling it what it is. The radical Muslim sec has declared war on everything non Muslim extreme, including people of their own religion who do not think the way they do. The enemy has no mercy. Has no other desire than to kill Americans and western living peoples and those who do not believe the way they do. To topple our way of life and turn us all into radical Muslims like them, whether we want to or not. No choice of freedom there. Look at Iran and you can get a sense of what bin Laden wants. End of story.

As Judge Brinkema told Moussaoui that he would "live a long life and then die with a whimper" is true. It is also true that this is just the end of the first round of a long 10 round prize fight where only our freedom and way of life is at stake. You would think more people would get it.