In the past 10 years, I’m sure that 9/11 has been analyzed, and discussed to the point that there is no more to be said. However, I have never had a chance to share my thoughts about this, so I am going to do so.
The Event
I was in my bedroom getting ready to go to work. (I live in Texas, the central time zone.) My wife called to me from the kitchen and told me to turn on the news because a plane had just flown into the World Trade Center. I remember wondering what kind of new student pilot would do such a thing. It wasn’t until the second plane struck that the lights went on. This was no accident – this was deliberate! I think that I am like most people in that when I see an event, my brain searches for some way to make sense of what I am seeing. I had nothing in my memory banks about commercial aircraft being used as weapons in New York City, so the only thing that made sense was a tragic accident with a pilot who did not know what he was doing. I can now identify with people who have witnessed, or participated in other “one of a kind” events such as Pearl Harbor. After I came to grips with what was really going on, I was dumbfounded, and mesmerized by the unfolding tragedy on television. My emotions about that day have ranged from reverence to rage.
Reverence
Those who perished on 9/11 were my fellow Americans. They were simply going about their everyday routine of making this country great by working. And as such, they are heroes to me. The everyday people on Flight 93 who rushed the cockpit in an effort to stop their plane from going on to its intended target, and made it crash in Pennsylvania are heroes to me.
The “first responders” were people who were willing to run up the stairs to face danger while everyone else was running down the stairs. They are also heroes to me. It was a combination of their training, and their desires to serve that kept them going up the stairs. I can’t quote it now, but I know I have heard it said that heroes are common people reacting to a difficult situation in an uncommon way. These, and all who helped are heroes, and their actions, and their memories are to be revered.

Rage
Our country has been fighting extremist Muslims since the dawn of the 19th century. It was President Thomas Jefferson who got tired of paying tribute money to the Barbary Pirates, and did something about it. Now here we are again. The enemy has a new name, but they still hate us, and they want to kill us. There has been a lot said over the past ten years about this not being the true face of Islam. That a few bad guys have kidnapped the true religion, and that Islam is not responsible for terrorist acts. Well I really don’t know if that is true or not. But what I do know is that the non- Islam world cannot fix Islam. We infidels have no standing in that world. Sure we can retaliate, and kill as many terrorists as we can, but they will be back. However, if it is true that this is not the true face of Islam, then “true” Islam has to fix it. Islam must clean its own house. If they, the Islamists who say they are innocent victims of these extremists are not willing to fix the problem within their own religion, then the truth is that they are a part of the problem.

This is a company of M551 Sheridans of the 4/68th Armor Bn.  We were practicing for a Division “Pass In Review”. These M551′s weighed about 17 tons. You could put one on a C-130 and have 2-3 inches to spare on each side.  I never saw one air dropped, but saw several brought in via “LAPES”. The “Low Altitude Parachute Extraction System” would have the C-130 pilot come in as low as he could without touching down.  An extraction chute would pull the M551 out of the back end of the aircraft.  The extraction chutes would then become drag chutes to slow and stop the load.  I did see one time when the chutes separated just as the M551 came out of the aircraft.  Now we had 17 tons of tank sliding on a pallet down the dirt landing strip in front of the bleachers on Sicily DZ at 130 kph.  It was still going hard when it hit the trees at the end of the landing strip.  The VIP’s  were less than impressed.

The main gun was 152mm and could fire a conventional round, of  HEP, Anti-personnel, or smoke.  No Sabot. Or you could also fire an anti-tank missile out of the same tube.  These were not designed to slug it out with main battle tanks.  It was officially called an AA/ARV, or Airborne Assault/Armored Reconnaissance Vehicle.  It’s size made it ideal for giving the 82d a little more punch.

In the late 1970’s and early 80’s I was a part of the 3rd Armor Division, stationed just north of Frankfurt, Germany. Our mission was to guard Western Europe from a Soviet invasion. The 11th ACR was located on the border, and we were right behind them. The 11th was stretched so thin, that we knew that if the “balloon really went up” that they would be little more than a “trip wire” for the oncoming hordes.
As you can imagine, planning for such an event was an ongoing process. As a tank company commander, I spent a considerable amount of time on our General Defense Position (GDP), and walked the terrain etc. I had a large three ring binder with all my map overlays showing all aspects of the plan. All the standard stuff. Units to my left and right, artillery fire plans, mine fields, air strike boxes, alternate, and fall back positions, and much more. I knew I had to knock out 7 to 9 of their tanks for every one that I lost just to break even, so the more I knew, and thought about, the better. I also knew that the third fall back position to the west was labeled “hold at all costs”. But that was not what bothered me the most.
The hard part was my family.

If war had come to us, I knew that I would be heading East with my tank company, and my family would be left to those who were tasked to help the dependents. The plan was to fly them out of Rein Mein AFB in Frankfurt. With that being such a major base, I asked what would happen if it was unusable because of tactical requirements, or if it was unusable due to enemy action. The answer I got was that in that event they planned to land evacuation aircraft on the autobahns. Really?

No matter what the plan, I also knew that once the bullets started to fly, that it was not going to be a good situation. I was going to be in harm’s way by choice, but they were there because they loved and supported me.

So, to my dear wife, and my five children, and to all the military dependents whether at home, or “in country”, my hat is off to you. You are the unsung heroes. Your support is both amazing, and irreplaceable.

Does anyone remember this?
Will anyone admit to volunteering to be the “ropeman”?

It was night as we loaded the six C-141’s with paratroopers. The Division routinely sent soldiers down to Panama for jungle training, and that was where we were headed. Why were we jumping when we could have landed? Well, we were Airborne!, and we never landed when we could jump. I was jumpmaster on the sixth aircraft. We were carrying about half the amount of troopers as normal because we were going to “in flight rig”, so we needed the extra space for all the parachutes. On long flights, it would have been a literal real pain to wear the chutes all the way down to Panama.

After chuting up, and doing all the jumpmaster checks, we were very ready to get out of the plane. I remember leaning out of the open door to check for safety issues. To my left I could see the five C-141’s ahead dropping their troopers, and to my front, or to starboard of the aircraft I could see the ships in the Panama Canal. It was one of those moments that I wish I could have put on “hold”. It was a truly amazing scene. It was something that “legs” will never see.

After the last man was out, I jumped, and for the only time in my jumping career I must have not put my head down, because my “deployment bag” slapped me across the back of my helmet. The force of the slap was impressive, and I was glad I was wearing a helmet. My camo cover was ripped off, and was hanging down over my face, which caused some disorientation. It is hard to be properly oriented when you can’t see. However, I soon had the cover off, and all was well.

Our drop zone was Gatun DZ. I could see some Special Forces guys running the DZ for us. I also noticed that there was a rock road down the middle of the DZ, and I was heading right for it. Since we had MC1-1 chutes, I had some control so I steered away from the road. Then when I was much lower I noticed that the rest of the DZ had a shallow water covering. (Of course it did, this was Panama.) Well, I did not make it back to the road, and got wet.

Thanks for the briefing!

In 1977, my family and I were off to Germany. I was being assigned to the 2/33 Armor Battalion. (M60A1) Upon arrival I was given the position of Battalion S-4, or Supply officer, and very soon the battalion was off to a NATO level exercise called “Reforger”. These Reforgers were very big deals, and were held every year. They involved not only US units stationed in Germany, but US units were airlifted from the states to join the fun, along with British, German, and other NATO Allies. Unlike in the US where these types of activities are held on military reservations, in Europe they use the civilian country side. You can imagine the traffic jams etc.

While going about my duties during Reforger, I was going down a dirt road in my jeep ( M151A2) when I saw in the road ahead what looked like a set of Load Bearing Equipment (LBE). It was in fact LBE. It had the belt, the suspender like straps, a canteen, etc., a holster, and to my horror, a M1911 .45 pistol. Now if you are not former military you will not understand why I say “to my horror”. But, weapons in the military are very closely controlled. An officer was required to inventory all weapons in the company every day, and once a week inventory was by serial number. It was a real pain, but helped to drive home the fact that we were to safeguard our weapons.

As I stood in that dirt road with this .45 in my hands, the first thing I did was reach for my own pistol. It was in my holster. Whew, that was close. Next I had my driver show me his weapon. He had his. Next, I went back to the area where all of the battalion’s support and supply people were. By the way, we called this area the “Trains”. I suppose from early days when they had supply trains. After I was certain that all of the trains people had their weapons, I knew that this was going to get ugly for someone soon, but I had no choice but to elevate the search for the owner of the lost pistol.

A battalion has two radio frequencies, or radio “nets” that are used in the field. The first is the “Command Net”. This is used by the battalion commander and his company commanders for operational control. If you do not belong on this net, stay off. The other Net is the Administrative/ Logistic Net. As the S-4 that one belonged to me. So I went up on the A/L net and asked everyone to check their “sensitive” items to make sure that all was accounted for. I was still hoping to resolve this issue without “stuff” hitting the fan. Well, the battalion commander was listening in on the A/L net. Why was he doing that? He was supposed to be on the command net.

“Captain Bales” he yelled. (Name and rank on the radio, in the clear?) “What are you talking about? If you have something to say, just say it!” I swallowed and said, “Roger that. I have found a .45 pistol on the road, and I am trying to find out who it belongs too.” Now I have no idea how far away the battalion commander was, but I could swear that I heard, without the radio, what sounded like a herd of elephants on the rampage. Not only was our battalion shut down, but the whole Reforger exercise came to a screeching halt. Instead of preparing for the first battle of the next war, everyone was looking for the one guy who did not have his pistol.

It did not take long. Within the hour the owner of the pistol, a captain in our direct support field artillery unit (Self Propelled 155’s) confessed. It seems that while riding in his jeep he had taken off his LBE, and slung it on the back of the seat, and then it had fallen off as they drove. I will tell you now, that I never did that……..again.

What happened to the captain?  I heard later that he had received a letter to go in his file.  So, the message is clear………… don’t lose your weapon!

Now that Johnny Airplane is a reality it is interesting to look back at how the oral story differs from the book. Since this was originally a bedtime story, it is not hard to understand that the story differed a little every time I told it.

If I was tired, Johnny was very edited. On the other hand there were nights when embellishing was in order. The easiest place to expand the story seemed to always be his take off with the firefighters. I sometimes made that takeoff very harrowing. Lots of “I can do this” and “I’m not going to make its”. The birds in the trees at the end of the runway made lots of noise, and waved their wings to warn Johnny away, and then they flew away at the last minute. Needless to say, he always just made it over the trees.

My son, Steven, tells me how his imagination’s eye is different from the book. For example, in his mind Johnny was a red, single engine Cessna. And, the firemen were dressed in city firefighters clothes rather than smoke jumpers garb. That makes a lot of sense when you think of a little boy’s imagination. Steven does not remember a stern man at the signup table for the race. It was more of a group condemnation from the big airplanes.

So, now even though the story is set, if you are an experienced bedtime reader, “adjusting” the story to the time constraints will not be difficult.  I’m sure you’ll make adjustments with your children as I did with mine.

You will note in the story that Fred the Fireman gives “jump commands” to his men in order to prepare them for jumping from the aircraft. Since I have never been a “smoke jumper”, I have no idea if these commands are used by them. The jump commands in the story are the ones that I learned when I was in the Army. Since there may be some level of interest in what goes on in the aircraft prior to the jump, I will share what I remember. [Read more...]