I am in HELL

I know I haven't posted any blogs or really even been online much in the last few months. My beautiful, smart, and wonderful 13 year-old daughter Breauna Michelle came back into my life over the last few months. That's all God gave me.

She and I were long-lost souls, re-connected. We were inseparable. Her mind was just like mine - she would finish a thought that I was speaking, or a joke I was making, and vice versa. Amazing.

I was working on paternity/rights/possible custody.

She had a lot of problems. She was troubled long before I came back into her life. I won't get into why I missed ten years of her life. It's irrelevant at this point.

I don't know why she did it. I was the last person to speak to her on this earth, and she gave no hint as to her intentions for what she did just an hour or so later. She just wanted to be with me, and I was working on the legal issues. She was miserable where she was. The time just didn't move fast enough for her, and I'll never know truly why she did it, or if she had wanted to be discovered or what. I wanted to give her the world and now I will never have that chance. She was and is the love of my life.

I've been to war. Spent a year on the ground in Afghanistan. I've thought that it was hell, and it is. I would go through the worst days I experienced in Afghanistan a jillion million infinite times rather than go through November 7th, 2007 again. I type this through the streaming tears and the pain that will never, ever go away.

I love you and miss you so much Breauna Michelle. I hope to be with you in heaven someday, but I am in hell now... She will always be my daughter, my sweetheart (NO ONE will ever be called that by me again), Sweet Child O' Mine (our song).

You know I love you mostesterest times infinity times q, even though I have seven gallons and you only have two buckets. I AM dumber than my left shoe, and am the most retarded person that's not been declared legally retarded. I am also the gayest straight person that's not really gay.

I love you Bre. I love you and miss you and keep thinking you will call or text me a million times a day like before, like it's some cruel dream that I can't wake up from. Parents shouldn't bury their children. You are up there with your half-brother Anthony Edward.

I have no one else left. My divorce isn't final yet. I am all alone without you, Breauna. You are my world, and my world is gone. I will love you and think of you and cry for you with every breath I have left in this world.

I taste the pain of my tears dripping down my face at this moment. I can't live without you. Life is nothing without you. I know life goes on, but I am miserable thinking of the bright future that was snuffed out. You wanted to be a surgeon someday ... I know you would have been brilliant.

All I can ask, is why? Why God, why? Why Bre, why? You know how much you were and are loved. Forever. I would have given you all I could have, and more.

I miss you, honey. I love you, sweetheart.

xxxx oooo xxxx oooo xxxx oooo

I got served today. I know what that means now.

I got served today. I know what that means now. I got served today with papers by the sheriff for the big D. Like the song says, "I'm going through the Big D, and don't mean Dallas."

Advice wanted.

Never thought it would happen. It's my religion that bothers me the most about it - our marriage had been dead for a number of years now - I had just been going through the motions - existing, ya know?

I didn't beat her, cheat her, or was mean to her - it was more like living with my sister. Working different shifts, losing our son, and then being sent away to Afghanistan for a year recently didn't help. Total deployment and being away from her was about 15 months, but still...

I may be going to Iraq in August/September. I might volunteer if they don't need me for this mission - it may be too soon after returning from Afghanistan. That was a special mission - the unit I am actually assigned to is going now. Nothing for me here, so who knows?

Anyway, I'd like to think I am a rare breed - it just didn't work out and I wish her well. I hope to remain friends with her someday.

Advice wanted. I haven't retained the services of a lawyer yet. Think I should?

Advice wanted. (Did I mention that?)

I guess I shall also be 'on the market' again soon - after 8 years or so of not being 'available'.

Scary, huh?

Any takers can inquire within. There may be a line. Just kidding!

Advice wanted ...

But most of all, friends are wanted - now, more than ever...

Advice ... sometimes it's good :)

Got some advice from a friend recently - on two separate people currently involved in my life, more or less. One more, one less. One I'd like to be more involved, the other it just doesn't matter.

The one less involved? She's dangerous - I should stay away, or at least be careful. A bit of immaturity involved. The word promiscuous came up. 'Nuff said there. So far, just grade school stuff and beer drinking, etc. Nothing major there. Just having fun.

The other one is a bit more complex - but not really. The actual advice I got shall not be repeated here (well, hinted at), but it was just common sense. It's all I have in this particular situation, really. I'll just have to see how it plays out - and just how patient I am - and at this stage of the game, it's just a fantasy, anyway. The word 'pipedream' comes to mind.

The hard part is that I have already revealed too much of what's in my head to this person - and know not much of what's going on in hers. She could be just playin' me ... which isn't hard, believe me. I am still pretty naive in a lot of ways, and my current fragile emotional situation just makes it easier to play me. And I am a very passive person, which also doesn't help - not in just this situation, but in a lot of them throughout my life.

At this point, it's like beating a dead horse. What she gets out of torturing me, I don't know. Maybe it's just friendship. Maybe it's pheromones or whatever. Yeah. Whatever. I am just about to the point where I must stop these 'extra' feelings for this person, too. It's pointless and just makes me ache inside for something that will also never happen - no matter how delusional I become about her. Besides, honestly: she ain't the one, either.

I just need someone to appreciate me for ME: to be at least fairly close to me on an intellectual level, and someone who enjoys at least a few (if not most or all) of my hobbies and interests. Someone who *I* can't wait to come home to be with. Someone who can't wait to see *me* again, even after a few hours at work. ME. Is that so little to ask?

I made a mistake 7 years ago. I am so tired of living this way. Nothing against her, either. You can't make yourself love someone. Sorry.

Love is a two-way street. I am tired of going the wrong way down a one-way street and never finding that two-way street.

The longer I live, the more I am an observer of the 'human condition'.

How involved we get on so many different levels with so many different people is amazing. Some people are a part of our lives forever. Some are parts of it to varying degrees. Some are in and out of our lives in minutes, hours, weeks, days, months, years or decades. Sometimes it's like ships passing in the night - more fleeting, if you will :)

You can never go back in time, I've discovered. My trip to Germany while on leave from Afghanistan proved that to me - as if I needed proof. I needed to put my hands in Our Lord's side, just like Thomas.

We care about people because we let ourselves care about them. People are born, and they live and die every day on this third rock from the sun. We don't know or care about most of them - at least in a personal way. We may 'care for the poor and oppressed' or 'support the troops', but unless we know any personally, we don't REALLY care. They live and die and life goes on. It's the ones we let in past our emotional walls we've built for ourselves that count - and those can also do the most damage. By letting them in, it can be a great thing or a horrible thing. I'm tired of getting hurt, and may never let anyone in again. At least for a long time ...

And for my own sanity, I may have to kick some out I've recently let in ...

Don't take it personally :)

Lightning strikes twice ...

She saved me again tonight.

This time, she knows it.

She didn't know before, when she saved me from harming myself.

I will name her.

Out her, if you will.

Becky. Rebecca.

I know what I must do.

What will I do?

My religion forbids it.

OUR religion forbids it.

My family will hate me.

Her family will hate me.

SHE will hate me.

I must do it.

Seven long years of knowing what a mistake it was.

I don't hate her.

Don't dislike her.

Never hit her - never was truly mean to her.

We just aren't right for each other.

I wish her well.

I love her but can never be *in* love with her.

I do love her because of what we've been through.

So much together....

Nothing personal.

I just can't live this way anymore.

Thanks, Rebecca.

You've shown me what I must do.

For my sanity - and what's left of it.

For my survival.

The truth is out there.

I want to believe.

I love you so much for saving my life tonight.

As much as friends can love each other.

I hope to be friends for a long time.

I hate the fleeting friendships of this world.

But thanks to you, I remain in this world.

I hope to be friends for more than a long time.

30 years? More? No matter how long or how far.

We *will* be friends.

What would I do without you?

Not much.

Just die.


P.S. I wrote this @ about 0300 this morning ... feeling no physical pain ... after a night of darts, Captain Morgan, Guinness, and a drunken foray with Becky into Wal Mart ... what a strange night it was ... but fun.

My last blog ...

No, the title isn't implying that this will be my last blog... (well, since we know not the time nor the hour of our own earthly demise, ya never know) ... it's saying that herein I shall briefly try and explain the last one I posted prior to this one.

It wasn't an attempt at poetry or being cute.

I was drunk after a night out of drinking with the friend of mine that the 'blog' was written about. (Dare I say she's one of my newest yet dearest friends in this lonely world?) She really did save me from hurting myself or others that night. I am not a violent person. Never have been. Since Afghanistan, it seems like a different story.

I opened up my brain and these words came boiling out.

Right or wrong or wasted (take that word either way), there they are.

She knows much of how I feel about her. In that respect, it's no great secret. She teases me about it (good-naturedly, but also to make sure I know that she knows ...)

If you haven't seen the movie Scarlet Street, that explains a lot (although we haven't and definitely won't progress into *that* ridiculous situation or probably any other beyond great friendship...)

I have a lot of 'friends' here on MySpace - but a lot of the time I truly am lonely ... she saves me from that when we are together (which is often throughout the week - at work and some nights after work ...)

I agonize over erasing it - I want her to see it, but then again, I really don't. I don't want to lose her friendship over some stuff I wrote.

I wrote it, and for the time being, there it remains.

I want us to remain friends.

F R I E N D S.

Honestly, in my mental state, I don't think I could handle anything else.

Sometimes fantasies are nice.

But not as nice as *real* friends ...



P.S. Ange, my answer to you is in the comments of the blog in question ....

Will you ever know?

Maybe you saved my life tonight

With your smile and your jokes.

Will you ever know?

You won’t always be there for me,

Nor could I ever expect you to be.

All the cliches run through my head

Lines from old songs* permeate my thoughts.

I was born for dying,

Maybe that’s the only thing I live for.

Pathetic, I am, but I can help it not.

No one cares for me,

Can you prove me wrong?

I can never have you.

Not that you’d want me.

Ever see Scarlet Street?

Sometimes I want you so bad it hurts.

You’ve awakened parts of me long dead, forgotten, and buried.

I can never have you.

I am happy to have whatever you give me of yourself.

I truly care for you, even if platonic we have to remain.

Not that you’d want me.

Not for more than friends.

And that’s perfectly OK.

I enjoy seeing your ‘perfection’.

Thanks for being my friend.

I hope we’re friends for a long time.

I cherish every minute you give me.

Black pants or not.

(I enjoy seeing your perfection, no matter what you’re wearing).

But even if you had no physical beauty,

Your mind is a strong enough drug for me.

The moments we are together are special.

At least to me.

You give so much to other people.

I am happy for what you give to me.

Even if it’s only friendship.

Friendship is good.

Friendship is so fleeting in this world.

I am tired of that.

I can only have torment and death.

I await the sting and victory of death.

I make my own hell.

I made my own hell.

I live for dying.

But tonight you made me live.

Will you ever know?




You won’t read this.

You never login.











*(In My Darkest Hour, Misery Loves Company, Fade To Black, Suicide Solution, and other such apropos dark metal songs)

Some little-known things about yours truly ...

I generally don't do these things, but here ya go:

1. Can you cook?
Yes, and quite well, I’d like to think. That’s what made me a good catch. I made the corned beef and cabbage for today (as well as for our office St. Patrick’s Day party on Tuesday - everyone commented that mine was ‘the best’). I follow directions and recipes quite well :)

2. What was your dream growing up?
From the fifth grade on, it was to become a Roman Catholic priest. I even went to high school seminary (a prep all-male boarding school) for a couple of years, got scared and joined the Army after I graduated from public high school. I wanted to see the world, and I did, and have, and there’s still so much more to see (possibly Iraq in August - a follow-up to my year in Afghanistan). Other dreams included becoming a major league baseball player (for the Cardinals) or hockey player (Blues) or successful gynecologist (for cheerleaders, tennis stars and gymnasts). OK, maybe I shouldn’t be answering these Guinness-in-hand, Saint Patrick’s Night.


3. What talent do you wish you had?
Focusing my high intelligence into completing something. That, and continuing to advance in my violin studies to become a decent violinist/fiddler.

4. Favorite place?
Frankfurt, Germany. I lived there for a few years. Of course, I say this before having been to Rome or Ireland ... :)

5. Favorite vegetable?
Today, cabbage. I love most vegetables, but sadly don’t eat enough. I even love spinach. I could live off of green bean casserole. And being married to a Filipina means eating all sorts of weird fruits and veggies (and meats... ahem).

6. What was the last book you read?
Mozart’s Letters, Mozart’s Life. I am currently reading Oliver Twist by Dickens.

7. What zodiac sign are you?
Libra. I don’t believe in any of that mumbo jumbo (that’s my Catholicism showing).

8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?
Used to have 3 holes in my left ear. Contemplated getting nipples pierced. Abandoned that idea for various reasons. I have 4 tattoos - the German flag with a sword through it (and blood dripping off the sword) on my left chest, the Cat In The Hat eating a rat on my right upper arm, a HMMWV with M-16 rifles and a quasi-desert scene on my left upper arm with the words “United States Army - Death Before Dishonor”, and on my back a heart with a lightning bolt and smoke coming from it with the name “Tracey” in the middle ... don’t ask :) The Army tat was a cover up of a joker/jester skull-faced red-eyed evil looking thing rolling the dice. I used to want to be W. Axl Rose or Ozzy when I was younger and living and partying and surviving during the real Metal Years ...

9. Worst Habit?
Biting my nails (although violinists need to keep their left hands’ nails short) or shaking my feet constantly when sitting. Don’t know why, but I always find it kinda sexy when a female has either of those habits. OK, I am a bit strange.

10. Do you personally know anybody on Blog?
The illustrious Ange and the rest of the Pumpkin Shell (Tom, Jack, and Pickles), and Mr. and Mrs. Zilla. Tom and Ange treated me to the World Series (seeing my Cardinals win it all) and I had only been home from Afghanistan a week - an experience I’ll never forget and can probably never repay. I didn’t know them except in cyberspace before blogging (flickring) ... Ange was a great email pal that helped through some times in the ‘stan.

Those I knew before blogging:
None.

Those I met in person BECAUSE of blogging:
See above ... Ange and Zilla.

ALMOST met:
Lori and Becky Boop. I hoped they would meet us all in Kansas City, but we (Pumpkin Shell and the ‘Zillas’) met in Saint Louis instead ...

11. What is your favorite sport?
Played baseball growing up, and ice hockey later on. I love watching those two today. The only sport I actively participate in now is curling. Yes, the Olympic ice sport played by a lot of Canadians (including many Canucks in our club here). http://www.kccurling.com

12. Negative or Optimistic attitude?
With the state of the world now, negative. I try to be positive (not necessarily optimistic), especially after a year fighting in the war in Afghanistan and having some friends die. I don’t mind GWB (I don’t think he gets a fair shake), but God, does this country need a man like Ronald Wilson Reagan again.


13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator lift with someone of the opposite sex?
Probably not much. Sing “Love In An Elevator” by Aerosmith?


14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?
Losing our son Anthony Edward.
Runner-up: Worst AND best thing (in a way), is my recent year-long deployment to fight in the war in Afghanistan.

15. Tell me one weird fact about you:
I apparently have a shoe fetish (according to my wife Alicia). She is Filipina and calls *me* Imelda Marcos. If that’s not weird enough for you, see # 9 above.

16. Do you have any pets?
Yes, 3 gerbils. I am a member of the American Gerbil Society. No joke. http://www.agsgerbils.org

17. Do you know how to do the macarena?
No. Sorry. I am living proof that white men can't dance. And even if I *could* dance, I doubt that the Macarena would be anywhere on my list.

18. Is the sun shining where you are now?
No, it’s 2051 on March 17th as I write this. (That’s 8:51 PM for you civilians) :)

19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
John Wayne Gacy ruined clowns for me. Ronald McDonald is just kinda weird looking. I don’t have a fear of clowns (which has been a popular phobia - real or just to sound cool, I don’t know ). I can still hear Father Ron Foshage M.S., yelling “You clown!” in World History class at the afore-alluded-to Saint Henry’s Preparatory Seminary in Belleville, Illinois :) For that reason, the word ‘clown’ always makes me smile.

20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
Lose the Guinness Gut I have acquired in the last several years.

21. Would you be my good angel or bad angel?
Good. Always good.

22. What color eyes do you have?
Hazel/green. (greenish brown but more green?)

23. Ever been arrested?
Yes. Long story. All charges dropped (no complaining witness). Let’s just say I was drunk on the early hours of December 24th, 1994 in a bar outside of Springfield, Illinois, and my mouth was running. I was also ‘arrested’ (they confiscated my alcohol, anyway) one evening in the early 1990s by some podunk cop from the Nokomis (or was it Pana?) Illinois PD. My gf Tracey was underage and I was over 21 - we were caught in the park after curfew - I also had two other underage girls with me at the time (God, was I a PIMP) ... The picnic table in that park has Tracey’s butt (total silhouette, probably) imprinted into the wood to this day, I’ll bet. (Sorry, I don’t know what that means, exactly ... )

24. Bottle or Draft?
Draught. Draught Guinness (for real, at a bar, on tap, or in the magical award-winning Draught aluminium cans...) No other beer will do, and I accept no substitute.

25. If you won £10,000 today, what would you do with it?
Well, that’s about $19,243. I guess I would deposit it - use it towards a house (we are selling/buying at the moment) ...

26. What kind of bubble gum do you prefer to chew?
I haven’t chewed gum regularly since my early 20s, but it used to be Bubble Yum.

27. What's your favorite bar to hang at?
Well, hanging is a bad word, but lately I have been going to the Disabled American Veterans post I belong to - although it’s about 20 miles away (I love cruise control). Sometimes I go to the American Legion or Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW), but the DAV seems to be the veterans organization I choose to be involved with lately ...

28. Do you believe in ghosts?
Yes. And demons and other evil things, as well as leprechauns and fairies.

29. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
Practice my violin and watch NHL hockey. Get on MySpace. IM with friends. Drink Guinness and hang out at veterans clubs. They’re the only ones who seem to ‘understand’.

30. Do you swear a lot?
Yes, unfortunately, since spending a year in combat. Army life tends to make one cuss. I am trying to re-wean myself from doing that.

31. Biggest pet peeve?
People who don’t remove their hats or pay respect to the flag or national anthem. That’s an insult to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of those and what they stand for, as well as those of us who have survived wearing the uniform of the armed forces of the USA.


32. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
Enigmatic.

33. Was there supposed to be a # 33?


More Questions Stolen From Ange who stole them from CameraDawktor:


1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Saint Patrick and Saint Joseph (the original one).

2. ARE YOU AN ONLY CHILD?
The family who adopted me already had three older kids (my brother and two sisters). Later in life, I found my biological mom, and she told me she had no other children, so technically yes.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
When I make myself write in a neat way, but who writes long-hand much anymore?

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Braunschweiger.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
Living, no. Well, possibly, yes.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Yes. I am the coolest person in my own mind that I know. A legend in my own mind, so to speak.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?
Is the Pope Catholic?

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
Yes, although they were nearly taken out as a pre-teen.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
Maybe, if I could strap J.LO under me so a) I could have cheap thrills on the way down, b) she *might* cushion my fall if the damned thing broke, and c) if it did break and I died, I would have a smile on my face although if we came free of each other and I landed face-down, I may be stuck in the earth a little ways :P

I think I over-thought the damned question when a simple yes or no would have sufficed. Damned Guinness.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Hot: Cream of Wheat
Cold: Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch or any shredded wheat.
Nine-Days Old: duh.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Of course.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
Yes. I am not just strong, I am Army Strong... Don’t you just hate the Army’s latest ad campaign? I long for the old “Be All That You Can Be” award-winning campaign that ran for about 20 years. I don’t know if Army Strong is better than the confusing Army Of One, or not. They both kinda S U C K .

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Anything as long as it’s not LITE or SUGAR FREE etc ... I also love sherbet.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Shoes. I think they say alot about a person.

15. RED OR PINK?
Neither, but if I *had* to choose, red. The only red I wear is Saint Louis Cardinal red...

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
Dunno. Probably the afore-mentioned Guinness Gut (physically). Other than that, I guess my life-long status as a classic under-achiever.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
Some of my friends - not the ones killed in Afghanistan, but some from earlier times in my nomadic, sporadic life.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU?
Not really.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Dark blue Nautica jeans with strategic holes and rips (there when I bought them, new), and kelly green low Chuck Taylors (Converse All-Stars) ...

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
The corned beef and cabbage I made. Oh wait, for dessert I had a Twinkie and a few pieces of Hershey’s Dark Chocolate with Almonds.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
When I started this, I was listening/watching Montreal and Toronto on Hockey Night In Canada (Habs won in a shootout - they are battling each other for a playoff spot), switching back and forth to Saint Louis/Edmonton. Now it’s late in the Blues/Oilers matchup ... LET'S GO BLUES!!!

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Some shade of green.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
The smell of freedom - getting off the plane finally back in the USA after fighting in Afghanistan for a year.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Our friend Marissa.

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?
Yes. I stole this from Ange. I like her (and her family) very much even though she doesn’t write me anymore or read my blogs. :P

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Hockey, baseball, curling, American football ... Olympics (Winter and Summer) ...

27. HAIR COLOR?
Brown.

28. EYE COLOR?
Hazel/green ... greenish/brown but more green I think.

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
No.

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
Anything not touched or ruined by the United States Army. I am seriously like a goat - I’ll eat damned near anything once. I do have my faves (Italian, mostly), though.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
How about a scary happy ending? Although, if you knew what we who have been in Afghanistan call a ‘happy ending’, you may not have asked this question ...

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Napoleon Dynamite for the umpteenth millionth time. Gosh! I was hoping to watch Angela’s Ashes (also for the umpteenth millionth time) tonight, but that ain’t gonna happen.

33. COLOR OF SHIRT YOU ARE WEARING?
Tie-dyed T-shirt with different shades of green ... for Saint Patrick’s Day :)

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
WINTER :) You can only get so undressed in summer and still be uncomfortable (and indecent). In winter, you can always add another layer of clothes :) Many friends say I should have been born in Canada ...

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Hugs. Both for close friends and family. Handshakes are also good.

36. FAVORITE DESSERT?
This is probably the hardest question on here. How about naming one I don’t like?

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
Dunno.

38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
Gerald Ford, Richard Nixon, and JFK. Oh, and Mary Jo Kopechnie.

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
e-army ... www.goarmy.com - Adventure, Education and Training.

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
Tivo’d Jeopardy from earlier in the day ... I don’t watch much TV, and definitely not as much as I watched before Afghanistan. It’s mostly rubbish.

42. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SOUND?
Anything with a violin / fiddle in it.

43. WHAT IS THE FURTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
Afghanistan or the Philippines. All over Europe.

44. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
Assembling and disassembling an M-16 in less than a minute? I guess any of the myriad of ‘special’ things United States Army soldiers are trained to do. I am pretty mean with a secret radio teletype set ...

45. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Highland, Illinois, I assume in a home ran by Catholic Charities. Two and a half months early. Weighed 2 pounds 4 ounces. My birth mother described me as ‘rather miserable looking’. Most people still describe me this way today.

46. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK?
Doesn’t matter to me. I don’t normally do these things myself, but if any of my cyber-friends answer these, I assume they’ll post them in their own cyber haunts.

50,000 More Like This Afghan Hero, And We Could All Come Home (at least from Afghanistan) ...

The Afghan guard who stops suicide bombers

By Mark Sappenfield, Staff writer of The Christian Science Monitor
Thu Mar 8, 3:00 AM ET

There is trouble outside Camp Phoenix. The American base on the dusty outskirts of Kabul has called for English translators. The problem is, the Americans have now hired their translator, and a crowd of Afghan job hunters at the camp gate is getting unruly.

The US soldiers are nervous. One yells obscenities and waves his gun. The crowd cowers but doesn't budge. Then, another soldier steps forward, armed only with a thick wooden staff, wrapped in peeling red tape.

The name tag on his broad chest says "Rambo," and though he wears US Army fatigues, he speaks in perfect Dari, ordering the crowd to leave. It reluctantly disperses.

This is a normal day for Rambo, an Afghan who has stood guard here for more than four years, pledging his life to the American soldiers that rid his land of the Taliban. But on Jan. 16, Rambo's gatekeeping made him a bona fide hero.

On that day, Rambo wrenched open the driver's side door of a moving car and wrestled a suicide bomber into submission before he could detonate his explosives. President Bush lauded him in a nationally televised speech several weeks ago, and before that, slightly exaggerated accounts of his feat circled through cyberspace, pleading for America to offer him citizenship or at least a medal.

Dutiful: Four days off in four years

On this gray day, amid the intermittent raindrops of a coming storm, Rambo seems somewhat weary of the story, asking a lieutenant whether he really needs to tell it again. So far as he is concerned, his only job is to protect those American soldiers at the gate. It is why he has taken only four days off in more than four years, even working Fridays, though that is the Muslim day of rest.

But the lieutenant kindly requests Rambo's patience. To Rambo, that is an order. "If you want me to do it, I will do it," he tells her with martial deference.

In fairness, his story is not just about the day he stopped a suicide bomber, when the steel of his resolve to protect American troops became so apparent to all who did not know him. To those who do, who gave him the "Rambo" nickname, the name tag, and the stick, his devotion was already evident.

At every corner of Camp Phoenix, Rambo stops to salute American officers. Soldiers heading out on patrol call out his name as if he were a fraternity brother. He is unquestionably one of them, because he is so willing to make the same sacrifice that they, too, have been called upon to make.

Yet he is also unquestionably Afghan, and never more so than when he smothered his countryman and would-be martyr at the front gate. To Rambo, whose name has been withheld for his protection, what happened that day was a matter of pride – a personal pride that burns deeper than love of country, or family, or faith.

"I made a promise to every American soldier," he says in grave tones. "Even if there is only one American soldier, I will be here to protect him."

Amid Camp Phoenix's soil-filled blast walls and bristling guard towers, designed to keep soldiers separate from the unsettled Afghanistan beyond, Rambo is a living lesson in the character of his country, where friends pledge their lives to defend you and enemies never rest until you have been destroyed.

On a clear, chilly Tuesday in mid- January, those two perceptions of the American presence here collided.

How he spotted the suicide bomber

Having spoken for five loving minutes about his well-worn red stick and its many uses in crowd control, the black-bearded Rambo is at last primed to talk about his legendary feat, his dark eyes bright with enthusiasm. He sits on a cold, wooden picnic bench in the Camp Phoenix compound, immune to the freezing rain, his rough and blackened hands working frantically to depict the scene.

When the driver of an off-white sedan did not brake as he approached the gate, Rambo sensed danger. He ran to the door, flung it open, and saw two buttons by the gearshift, each with a wire running to a gas tank that filled the entire back seat.

Before the terrorist could reach the buttons, Rambo seized his hands, and a Security Forces soldier arrived to help. In an instant, it was over.

Later in the day, the car exploded when a demolition team failed to disarm it, but no one was injured.

Before and since the event, Rambo has gotten recognition for his role at Camp Phoenix. In his dark and low-ceilinged room – a nestlike clutter of boxes and badges and potato-chip bags – Rambo displays a letter from the former commander of NATO. There is a framed commendation that bears both the US and Afghan flags, as well as a jumble of military coins given for his service.

In another corner, he uncovers a pile of letters from American soldiers, their wives, and their mothers – one with a lipstick-stained kiss of gratitude. These are his treasures. The thanks he has always received for his service makes his monastic existence worthwhile. Even before Jan. 16, he stayed here from before dawn until after dusk. Now, he lives on the base full time. In fact, he has not been home for three months.

He bears the security measures joyfully. And he doesn't heed the Afghans who roll down their windows and shout obscenities at him as they pass. "I don't care what they say," he says. "I will protect my friends."

Yes, he says, the Americans are here to help hold his country together as it attempts to heal after three decades of misrule and civil war. But more than that, he loves Americans because they have treated him with respect.

"They are good and they have strong hearts," he says.

They have given him this uniform, which is frayed at the cuffs from constant use. They have created a "Rambo fund" to help him get a TV, and have helped two of his sons get jobs. On his shoulder he proudly wears the patches of every unit that has come through Camp Phoenix – each vying for the esteemed piece of real estate that is Rambo's uniform.

"When you think of Camp Phoenix, you think of Rambo," says 1st Lt. John Stephens of 1-180th Infantry Battalion, who is in the midst of his second tour here. "He's the rock of Camp Phoenix."

Taliban rocket killed his wife and child

Rambo's journey to the American side of the war is a simple one. During the days of the Taliban, his wife and one of his children were killed when a rocket crashed into their home. It was not intentional, he says, but it was indicative of the lives ruined by Taliban rule. Moreover, as a member of the Army during a former government, he felt unsafe and eventually fled to Pakistan for refuge.

The fall of the Taliban in 2001 brought him back to Kabul, where he resumed an old job as a truck driver and security guard at a transportation company. When Camp Phoenix commandeered the building used by the transportation company in 2003, Rambo stayed on as a security guard for the new installation. He has been here ever since, and he has been "Rambo" for almost as long.

His handle was the suggestion of a woman who was here during the early days of Camp Phoenix. "I liked Rambo even from before," he says, betraying no knowledge of anyone named Sylvester Stallone, as if Rambo and the actor are synonymous. "Sometimes he is in a movie where he is wild, and sometimes he has a necktie and is very respectable."

Which Rambo is he? "It depends," he says with a smile. "If a polite man comes, I will be a Rambo who is polite and gentle. But if it is Al Qaeda, I will be the wild Rambo."

Soldiers here will vouch for that, telling of instances where Rambo pulled people out of car windows. Back during Communist times, when he was a tank commander, Rambo says that he cut all the medals off the uniform of a superior officer when the officer (falsely, he insists) accused him of not fixing a tank correctly.

Today, he returns to the gate, huddling beside a fire in an old oil drum along with his American colleagues. They are his responsibility, he says, and he is determined not to forsake that trust.

"I don't want to be blamed," he says. "I promised these people a lot. Dying is better than to be blamed."

My words: As I sit and contemplate a possible re-deployment in August (to Iraq this time and not Afghanistan), I can only hope and pray for a peaceful and secure Afghanistan and Iraq. Much of these two countries are peaceful (maybe not secure, by Western standards), and there are many good and great people in those two war-torn countries who not only want us there, but that want us to SUCCEED there. Unfortunately, the same can't be said of those in many coalition countries who spout the tired old mantra about 'supporting the troops but not the war(s)'. Only traitors want to see their own military fail while on a mission. Leave the politics to the politicos and the actual war to the generals and NCOs. It's too late to be 'against the war(s)' . We are there. Face it. Support the troops and allow us to win - much of the problem is the liberal media ties our hands on how to conduct the war. All the ridiculous criteria for the rules of engagement. You almost have to see the combatant's terrorist ID card before engaging your weapon. The media expects us to follow the Geneva Convention and rules of war against an enemy who has signed or respects neither. Yes, I know we can't be trigger-happy and we as Americans (and coalition forces) have to set a higher standard than our barbaric adversaries. But a little more leeway would be nice. Maybe we'd have a chance to win. If the media outcry over the non-abuse at Abu Ghraib and Gitmo is any indication, we (the military) will NEVER be allowed to conduct any war in the manner wars are supposed to be ... I'm sorry, but panties on the head isn't abuse or torture. Humiliation, maybe. If those tactics save innocent lives from terror, I say the Defense Department's newest contractor should be Victoria's Secret. At least our prisoners had heads attached on which to place panties when we were through with them ...

We lost over 350 troops a DAY in World War II - and Germany never attacked us. It's looking like there was a conspiracy (I generally don't believe in those things) to allow Japan to attack us so we would enter the second world war. I just bring this up, not to cheapen ANY of my fellow soldiers' loss of life, but to point out that we lost more in 10 DAYS of fighting in WWII than we have lost in 6 years in the current global war on terror (mostly in Iraq, of course). A lot of the world would be speaking German and Japanese (and maybe some Italian) had we not intervened. We saved the world from terrorism and thuggery then, and we are trying to do it now.

And of course, thank God, there's been no major terrorist attack on US soil since 9/11. It's better to fight there than here.

Support the troops? Let us be the troops we are trained to be, and WIN. Americans hate to lose. Just watch the Olympics or any such truly international sporting competition. Should the war on terror be any different?

Barack "Osama Hussein" Obama, Kerry and Billary - Don‘t Let Them Fool You ...

I have long thought that it was a double standard for people (primarily liberals - be they Democrat, Republican, or Independent) to say that they "support the troops but oppose the war".

Hypocrisy at its most subtle. Insidious, as it does undermine troop morale. I always liken it to saying that you are a Saint Louis Cardinals fan (for example), but hope they don‘t win any games - and don‘t even particularly care for the game of baseball itself.

Now, we have such leftist luminaries as John Kerry who says you must be a moron if they send you to Iraq - he said something along the lines of if you don‘t stay in school and become educated (indoctrinated - but that‘s another topic for another time), you‘ll be sent to Iraq. I must be OK, as I‘ve only been to Afghanistan at this point. In fact, at the time of the remark ("joke" according to Kerry), I "joked" with my friends that he wasn‘t referring to me or any others who have served in the ‘stan. We must be smart :)

The most recent clown to make a disgusting remark was Barack Hussein "Osama" Obama. He said lives lost in the war in Iraq were for nothing - cheapening the ultimate sacrifice that countless of my comrades (brothers and sisters in arms) have made since this country was founded and forged in blood. And this political neophtye dares to run for the position of Commander-in-Chief? God help us if this buffoon wins. Here's what he said, exactly, in case you wanna know:
The Illinois senator told a crowd in Iowa: "We now have spent $400 billion and have seen over 3,000 lives of the bravest young Americans wasted."

What would be wasted is your vote if you vote for this fraud.


Hilary Rodham Klinton is another dandy one - her and her ‘husband‘ Bill have made no secret of their disdain and loathing of the military. Bill would rather get blow jobs under the desk in the Oral Office rather than do anything about Osama Bin Laden, the first World Trade Center bombing, U.S. Embassy bombings overseas, and the attack on the U.S.S. Cole (where several brave sailors lost their lives).

I did get a phone call from one of those conservative PACs last week. They did have the funniest 'poll' question ever. The girl, who had a sexy voice, also assured me this was the only question she would ask: "Did you get a sinking, twisted feeling in the pit of your stomach last week when Hilary Klinton decided to throw her hat into the presidential ring?" I busted up laughing and choked out an 'of course!' I didn't give any money to these people (they were promoting Dick Morris's book on the Clintons if you gave a certain amount). It was too early in the presidential race, I told her. (I also wasn't happy that it was 2045 - almost 2100 when she called - only friends and family should call that late, really). The question really was funny, though, although Bilary running for president, unfortunately, is not.

Now, I am not just another lock-step Republican - I am a conservative and a patriot-with-a-brain. Granted, I can count the number of Dems I have voted for in my life on one hand (they were pro-life and were running unopposed in the local elections - I did vote for Dukakis in 1988 - but don‘t tell anyone) :)

I am just putting this out there so hopefully some who planned on voting for any of these imbeciles will think twice before they weaken our Defense Department, and therefore, our beloved United States of America - which is still (thank GOD) not spelled like this: AMERIKA....

It doesn't help that the politicos (on both sides) and the media don't let us do our job in the war. They micromanage and make us conform to the 'rules of engagement' (terrorists don't follow that, just like they don't follow the Geneva Convention - which they didn't sign anyway). As I've said before, at least the prisoners we take still have heads on them when we are through with them. Don't get me started on the purported 'abuses' at Abu Ghraib and Gitmo.

Anyway, there has been countless other gaffes from liberals of every stripe - too many to be recounted here. Don‘t let those libs or the biased main-stream liberal media explain it away as a joke or a ‘mis-speak‘ - these people are professional speakers and are doing just that - speaking their minds. They didn‘t mis-speak at all - they are just letting us know what they really think, and what a lot of people out there really think. They don‘t support the troops and they never have. I can‘t tell you what this did to my morale and psyche during my recent year-long vacation in Afghanistan. Don‘t be fooled. I‘m not.