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Dox 9/11 ramble


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Defining moments/days that changed the world

(it's not really about 9/11, it's about me) :p

 

When I grew up, it seems there was a lot more interaction between people, often people of different ages. Stories were told ...... The conversations which began, "Where were you and what were you doing when _________ happened?" were not uncommon.

 

The charge at San Juan Hill

When I was just a little squirt, I loved playing soldier. Toy soldiers, guns, insignia, neighborhood recon, tree forts ..... I loved it all. Imagine how cool it was when I first met "Uncle Taylor." He wasn't really any relation, but my mother always referred to him that way, and he was some old family friend of my grandparents. Anyways, Uncle Taylor was a bona fide veteran of the Spanish American War, and if I remember correctly, the last living veteran of that war in my hometown when I was a kid. In warm weather he often sat on his porch a couple of blocks from where I lived. He always welcomed me to join him and his wife on the porch. I think he especially liked it when I visited because I wanted to hear his war stories. He said he lied about his age to join the Army. Uncle Taylor told me of a defining moment of his life--the charge up San Juan Hill in Cuba. His stories had everything a little boy could ask for--a former Confederate General, charging Rough Riders getting their horses shot out from under them, Gatling guns, Teddy Roosevelt, the "colored regiment" ("most of 'em died there", Uncle Taylor said pensively, ".....but they died bravely, a credit to their Race.")--obviously I grew up in different times, black-and-white times in more ways than one. I was too young to understand war and death and "colored people" and just how this battle became a defining moment for some 16 year old boy who someone transformed into this tattered old man sitting across from me on his front porch, grasping his canes as if preparing to make that charge again, gasping for breath as if he'd already run up the hill and jumped over the wall.

 

My ancestors sat out World War I, so there wasn't much talk about that. My grandfathers were too old to be drafted and both had already started their families by 1914. My dad's dad had defining moments related to farming (and, therefore, weather) and his beloved horses. He was a teamster by trade, but also traded and raced horses.

 

December 7, 1941

What were you doing when the Japs attacked Pearl Harbor? I must have heard hundreds of answers to that question. For my Mom and her sisters, it meant going to work in the war effort. She worked at the Ration Board. Dad and his brothers all joined the Army. Dad went to Africa and Europe, his brothers went to the Pacific.

 

D-Day plus 1

That's when Dad landed in France in a glider. He swore he'd never ride in another. He figured he was going to die that day. Little did he know just how much he would be in harm's way the next few years. He eventually ended up a medic in the Third Army. If you know much about WWII history, you know that a medic in General Patton's Army was a pretty busy guy. Dad said he didn't have much training to be a medic, but he had a lot of experience doctoring farm animals, and that seemed to be enough to qualify him to become a medic. :eek:

 

As kids, we were all pretty accident prone, as I guess all kids are. It didn't matter how far or fast we fell, how many bounces we made, how much glass we just stepped on, or how much flesh was hanging from the cut, Dad would pick us up and inspect the injury site, and tell us "It's too far from your heart to kill you," then send us to Mom to get washed and bandaged. I'm not sure what injury would have been so severe to cause him to alter his response, because it never changed. It wasn't until long after my Dad's passing that it occurred to me how many times he must have said this phrase of reassurance to wounded soldiers in the War--some to whom he had nothing but reassuring words to give. He was decorated at the Battle of the Bulge, and at the relief of Bastogne. I imagine he tended to literally hundreds of severely wounded and dying soldiers. He also helped liberate concentration camps in Germany. He didn't tell any stories about that last part. Ever.

 

The Day JFK got shot

I was sick and stayed home from school on November 22, 1963. I stayed in bed until early afternoon, but then came downstairs to the living room to watch afternoon TV. When the show I was watching got interrupted with the bulletin that President Kennedy was shot, I went into the kitchen to tell my Mother, who told me that I was confused, and it was just a TV show, not real. As I recall, she put her hand to my forehead to check for fever. :) After a couple more news interruptions, I convinced her to leave the kitchen (these were different times, remember) and come watch the TV to see the next news flash. When she saw it was true, she telephoned my Dad, then her mother. Then we cried. Everyone cried that day. If you didn't live through it, it's hard to understand. But for a brief, shining moment in America, there had been touch football on the White House lawn, a dream of freedom for the whole world, a young President with unabashed optimism, courage, and a young man's stubborn resolve. Now the King was dead and Camelot died that day, too.

 

9/11/01

I was in prison, looking out a second story window at razor wire, glittering in the sunlight. I wouldn't be sleeping here, as I was an employee and would be going home at 5. A psychologist came into my office and told me of the Twin Towers and the Pentagon. I wasn't sure what to make of it all, but I had work to do. I glanced out my office window--clear skies. No hijacked plane needed to be crashed here to destroy Western civilization's values. That damage had already been done within these walls.

 

I got a few updates as the day went on but didn't think much more besides "someone's going to get nuked over this."

 

I didn't listen to much news over the next few months. It was over a year before I even saw the video of the towers falling.

 

There's been a lot of suffering and death that began that day. Human casualties, civil liberties traded off for the illusion of security, irreparable damage to the ethical standards of human conduct and the conduct of nations. It was undoubtedly a red letter day for the world. But not really for me. I had already reached my personal limit for the defining days created by war and death. My defining moments aren't even dates--they're just little snippets of personal memory--happy times with friends, births, a lover's embrace, the time we couldn't stop laughing, that time I thought I could fly, the times my parents told me they were proud of me, a heartfelt thanks from someone I didn't know. Thoughts I treasure, mistakes I made I learned from, mistakes I'm probably destined to repeat, sad times that made me stronger and some that knocked me down hard. I guess my landmarks are internal, personal ones.

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I'll add a few of mine:

 

The Space Shuttle Challenger disaster: January 28, 1986

 

Was home "sick" actually playing hooky with my moms permission. I forget the details as to why but I remember watching it happen on our family room TV.

 

 

The Space Shuttle Columbia disaster: February 1, 2003

 

In follow up on the subject, I also remember this one. It was the day I began clearing out our basement as that Monday they were due to start putting in the theater.

 

 

The Berlin Wall: 1989

 

I don't recall the exact details around the events other than I was in College at OSU and aced political science and this and Exxon Valdez were two huge stories we discussed.

 

 

The Exxon Valdez oil spill March 24, 1989

 

As noted, I remember thinking this was a horrible accident that fucked up the area for what I believed would be my lifetime. It was one of the few Fridays in college we talked something serious while drinking beer. I'm sure the conversation shifted to talking about getting laid.

 

 

The Oklahoma City bombing: April 19, 1995

 

I remember this one too. I was at work traveling somewhere. I just remember hearing about it while on the road for work and popped into a radio shack to watch the news on TV to get the scoop.

 

 

The Iran hostage crisis: 1979

 

This one hits home as both my brothers were in the military and as a 9 year old I remember talking with my parents about whether Tom or Sam would be involved in some way.

 

 

The Falklands War: 1982

 

I remember this one as my oldest brother Sam was finally home from his 12 years serving in the US Air Force and was telling me all about the planes involved.

Edited by TTQ B4U
Added in a few more that hit home:
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It's always interesting to here an individuals story of first hand history. Both my grand fathers served in Korea, and several uncles in Vietnam. They would never speak of what they witnessed. Only thing they'd ever admit was they were proud to serve our country, but they would never want to see thier grand children serve.

 

The only person who would share a story was my Great grandfather. He was born in 1911, and passed in 2010. He shared stories of both the good times and the bad. He taught me alot about character, pride, and hard work.

 

Thanks for sharing Doc.

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I have to say that as a child and teenager most world events were of no interest of mine. So as I had just bought my first house, gotten married the year before, and sat in my living room holding my infant daughter watching the news on the evening of September 11, 2001, I did not know what to think. Things had been changing so much for me, and looking back know I was just starting to see what responsibility and adulthood was all about. I was 20 years old, a father, a husband, and I felt a desire to be like my father and protect and look over my house and family. I was lost and confused by the events of that day, shaking my reality, so I have to say that September 11, 2001 was the first event in my life that had a major impact on my world veiws.

 

After reading Doc's thoughts about it, I felt that while he had seen and experienced days similar, and I had only started. Interesting generation gap.

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Decemer 13, 2003 (Operation Red Dawn)

- Young Army PFC in Tikrit, Iraq with a radio on my back, locked n' loaded M16A4 with a brand new thermal scope not seen by many. We were tasked to provide an LP/OP on the side of the Tigris River until further notice. Many hours surrounded by muddy shit water, we were eventually told to engage anything and everything that came down the river. A few more hours past, and we broke down to exfill the area. After returning around sometime when the sun came up, we finally got to get a few hours of sleep. A good hour or so into our much needed rack time we were awakened by cheers of Sadam's capture. Little did we know that we were part of what was known as Operation Red Dawn. Though we played a small part in our Brigade's operation, we then understood why the hell we we're stuck in that wet, muddy shit hole all night.

 

(It was my 20th Birthday to boot)

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The ones I only remember are the Challenger disaster in '86. Sitting in 6th grade the teacher brought the tv in to watch the launch.. boom. ugh.

 

9/11 I was sitting in my family room with my new born son and was waiting to hear back on a job interview i had a few days before about getting a job. Chills went down my entire body as I watched it. I woke up right at 9:00 and was just in shock the entire day.

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Scott I never knew you were involved in red dawn. Honestly I am not a conspiracy kinda guy but that whole thing always seemed fishy to me but if you were involved I no longer doubt any of it as told, I trust your word.

 

Task Force 121 did the take down, but my brigade, 1st Brigade 4th Infantry Division got the credit. Kept the SF boys out of the light and gave our Brigade Commander the credit for all the other stuff everyone did. Our Brigade set up a huge outer security cordon, and helped put the squeeze on him (Sadam). My platoon's role was quite small and insignificant, but later I heard they were trying to escape by boat. Who knows, maybe my platoon could've had a bigger hand in history.

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9/11, I was in college. A guy in our dorm unit lost several of his close family members due to his family owned a British bank that had atleast one floor in one of the towers. My dad was suppose to at the Pentagon for a meeting on the side that was hit by the plane and his meeting got cancelled. Funny how things work out.
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I really enjoyed reading this Doc. Over the years its been a real pleasure getting to know you (and im sure there are more to come!). So, from a friend, thank you for all you do in this community and in others lives that you may never know. This makes me want to ask about my grandfathers history. I know bits and pieces, but i want to know more now. Again, thank you!
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There's been a lot of suffering and death that began that day. Human casualties, civil liberties traded off for the illusion of security, irreparable damage to the ethical standards of human conduct and the conduct of nations. It was undoubtedly a red letter day for the world. But not really for me. I had already reached my personal limit for the defining days created by war and death. My defining moments aren't even dates--they're just little snippets of personal memory--happy times with friends, births, a lover's embrace, the time we couldn't stop laughing, that time I thought I could fly, the times my parents told me they were proud of me, a heartfelt thanks from someone I didn't know. Thoughts I treasure, mistakes I made I learned from, mistakes I'm probably destined to repeat, sad times that made me stronger and some that knocked me down hard. I guess my landmarks are internal, personal ones.

 

This is real talk.

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Thank you for sharing doc!

 

 

Brings back memories of sitting down with my grand parents, great grand parents, uncles and great uncles talking about their stories. I come from a military family, unfortunately i was not allowed to join due to my mothers wishes. She grew up out of the US most of her adolescent life. Living on base after base, country after country. She didn't want that life for me.

 

My great uncle has a lot of crazy stories, he ran recon in Vietnam. The stories he is able to tell are just insane. I have one great uncle who i have never met, came back from vietnam and disappeared. No one has heard from him since.

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The ones I only remember are the Challenger disaster in '86. Sitting in 6th grade the teacher brought the tv in to watch the launch.. boom. ugh.

 

9/11 I was sitting in my family room with my new born son and was waiting to hear back on a job interview i had a few days before about getting a job. Chills went down my entire body as I watched it. I woke up right at 9:00 and was just in shock the entire day.

 

4th grade Bro.

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9/11 I was in the waiting room of the Dodge dealership on East Main...can't think of what the name of the dealership was. I was waiting on them to finish prepping the Avenger I'd bought.

 

Other days that stick with me are the Challenger explosion..I was in Mrs. James 5th grade class, they had pushed the TV cart into our room and everybody else had to bring their chairs with them! January 17th 1991...when Desert Shield became Desert Storm, the Reds had come to Watkins Memorial to do a charity basketball game with some alumni and teachers. I got autographs from Paul O'Neill, Kal Daniels, Barry Larkin, and Tom Browning. And oddly, November 24th 1983...the Sesame Street episode with Mr. Hoopers death.

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Here is one I can remember: The OJ Simpson chase and murder case. I was in 4th grade when this happened and remember watching the verdict live in my classroom.

I was in 7th grade and remember doing the same thing.

 

In elementary school I was in the school library and they turned on the TV to show us coverage of the standoff in Waco, TX. When the building caught on fire the TV was shut off.

 

In high school I remember going to McDonald's for lunch and looking up at a news broadcast after sitting down. It was live coverage of Columbine.

 

When 9/11 happened I was a sophmore in college and was woken up by a roommate who turned on the Today show in our room. I remember seeing the towers on fire and the endless replay's of the crash. I was supposed to be getting up for class, but stayed at home and was glued to the TV. It was absolutely surreal and scary. Some arabic student got up in one of the classes and wrote something on the whiteboard. A professor that could read the language was called in to read it, to which he said, "Uhh, don't worry about it, it's nothing," then erased it and walked out. By noon school was cancelled. I had to go to the supermarket later and the streets were empty, gas prices has shot up and everything seemed silent.

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