Gunslinger on the Bench

Okay, I'm going to have drop my Mid-world persona for the day. Why you ask. Well due to a combination of really good medicine and the fact that my left hand looks like it was attacked by a funnel web spider, kind of hampers my ability to type and think enough to keep up the facade.

So, as of yesterday I'm on medical leave, at least until Tuesday. All this stems from me going against my gut. I put myself in a situation I knew was stupid and I went anyway.

Yesterday, I was out conducting Home Visits by myself, Casey opted to stay at the office and finish filling out paperwork for court. So, I went out solo. Nothing unusual, I've done it before. I did it a lot when I was a Deputy in fact. At around 1145 hours I pulled up in front of an Offender's reported address. I recognized the house from the first time this Offender got out on Probation. The first time there were less dogs though. I stepped out of the car and closed the door. Four medium to small dogs all come running out of their hidey holes and start barking enough to wake the dead. I was thankful of the fenced in yard.

I walk over to the front gate and waited to see what happened. I figured that if anyone was in the house, that they would at least walk to a window and see me standing there and come to investigate. Well, after five minutes of barking, I decided that there was no way anyone was home and I would have to leave a note on the door.

During the five minutes of waiting I was checking out the dogs. Three Pit Bulls and one chow mix. The chow and one of the Pit Bulls (the oldest and about 1 - 2 years old) were chained to the house. The two younger (one 6 months and the other barely old enough to be away from momma) Pits were running lose in the yard.

I toyed with the 6 month old pit, trying to gauge how he would react to me coming into his home. He was very interested at getting to me. I placed my hand near enough to the fence to stop any bites, but close enough for him to smell and or lick at me. He did the latter. I then checked out the oldest pit. He was giving out the body language of being playful and happy to see me, but my gut was telling me that he was chained for a reason and that body language was misleading.

As I started to open the front gate the 6 month old lunged at me. Coming halfway through the opening in the gate. Luckily all he was interested in doing was licking. I whacked him on the nose to get him back inside the gate and remembered that I needed to get a note for the door. I retrieved it and began my journey of stupidity.

As I started walking toward the door I was better able to see the trail that the two chained dogs had made. Both dogs had been positioned to guard the front door. But, from the trails their maximum chain length allowed plenty of room to get to the front door.

The rest is kind of jumbled. I remember almost getting to the front porch, when I felt something pull my left hand. Surely all of you know the feeling of a small child tugging your hand for whatever reason. That's all I felt. I looked down and saw my hand in the oldest pits mouth. My middle, ring, and pinkie fingers all the way up to mid-hand, to be exact.

I then did the most natural and dumbest thing anyone can do, I tried to pull my hand out. When I did that he clamped down and started shaking. All I felt was pressure, no pain. My brain flooded with thoughts as to what to do. I knew this was bad. The attack mode that the oldest was in could easily send the little 6 month old the message to do the same. If the 6 month old hit me in the right spot, I could go down and that would be really bad. It had to be ended now.

The thought process went as follows: Punch it! Punch it in the nose! No, what if he grabs a hold of your other hand, and if grabs a hold of it you can't shoot him. Shoot him? That's right shoot him! Crap! I can't, he's shaking my arm to much and I might shoot myself in the process. Well, do something!...The dog whisperer! If a dog he's working with needs a little extra distracting, he gives them a little kick between the ribs and back legs!

I then kick with everything I can put behind it, right in the sweet spot. The dog yelped, giving me enough time to get my hand out of his mouth. From bite to release, maybe five seconds.

I then took a few steps back toward the gate and stopped to check out the damage. I noted a few places where I was starting to bleed. I then noticed a hole in the webbing between the middle and ring finger. It wasn't bleeding, but when I spread those two fingers, all I saw was white. My thought was that I really hope that that's just fatty tissue and not bone and ligaments.

At some point I remember the dogs and noticed that something was trying to eat my ankle. Unable to find purchase to get a hold of my ankle because of my boot, it started going to town on my pants leg. Since it was just the pants leg I just started walking toward the gate. I'm not sure how I managed to get the gate closed, but I did. I then went back to the car for the phone and was so shaken that I couldn't dial 911 the first couple of tries.

Once I actually got a hold of the emergency operator, I advised her of who I was, who I worked for, and where I was. I told her that I was attacked by a dog and needed a Deputy and and ambulance. Her response was, "Is it your dog?" "No. It's not my dog. I'm at at an offender's house doing a home visit." "Is the dog still attacking you?" Really, "No! The dog isn't attacking me!" "Okay sir, I'm going to transfer you to the EMS operator."

Once a hold of the EMS operator, I had to go through the same exact line of questions with the added bonus of medical advise. That consisted of keep the wounded hand elevated and wipe the wounded area down with a damp cloth. During the conversation with the EMS operator, I started looking through the car for the first aid kit and of course, no luck.

Once I was done with the operators I had to call the office and give the bad news. After a few seconds with the Admin at the front desk I was transferred to our Assistant Agent In Charge. After five minutes of explaining the situation, he then told me that I would have to talk to my Supervisor to get the paperwork going. Really, we couldn't have done that a few minutes earlier.

After a few minutes on the phone with my Supervisor, I noticed a woman standing on the front porch of the house. She was standing there holding the new born pit with nothing more than a night gown and a bath robe on. Once I saw her, I told her to come over and speak with me, "YOU! GET OVER HERE! NOW!" was the gist of it. She calmly walked over, giving the chained pit a kick when it tried to start playing with her.

Once she came over, I went into full police mode, getting her name, age, date of birth, contact information, whether the dog had it's Rabies shot (she claimed it does, but couldn't find the information or the tags), I even managed to find out that my offender was not living at this address. Once I got all that, I told her that she needed to go back inside and get dressed for when the Deputies came and see if she could fine the Rabies shot info. She obliged.

After three minutes of waiting, EMS arrived. They cleaned and bandaged the wounds and let me sit in the back of the ambulance while we waited for the deputies. After ten minutes the county Animal Control arrived. He told me the Deputies were not coming and that he was going to take care of it. Which meant giving the owner a ticket for not having the Rabies tags and quarantining the dog at the house (since it was already chained up and what not) for the next ten days, to make sure that it didn't exhibit any signs of Rabies. Animal control told me when the hearing date would be, but that if the owner provided the tags and/or information for the Rabies shots that the charges would be dropped. It was only going to be $185 ticket anyway.

Once I got the EMS crews information and the information from Animal control, I signed the waiver to not be transported to the Hospital and drove myself to, in my opinion, the best ER in the County. One of the perks of being in Law Enforcement, you tend to go to a lot of ER's, and learn quick which is the best to go to in the event of an Emergency.

After a short drive and an even shorter wait in the ER lobby, I was taken to triage. While trying to answer the barrage of questions, I got a text message from Casey, "Call me when you get a sec." Thinking this was just to get a heckle, I told him that it would be a while before I could do that. A few seconds later I got another text from him asking if I could run by the jail and help him to serve a warrant. I just told him that I wouldn't be able to due to paperwork that I would be doing later.

While I was going through Triage, one of the Supervisors came in to make sure that everything was going smoothly and to keep me company. Interesting that my Supervisor didn't do that.

Anyway, after four hours in the ER, being poked, prodded, x-rayed, and IVed to my limit, they let me go.

The Supervisor insisted on driving me back to the office, where I was immediately inundated with questions and of course made fun of, mostly by Casey for not telling him I was in the ER. Of all the people in my office that have had the privilege of being called "milkbone", I am the only one that has the moniker of "Chain".

Once, I answered everyone's questions, mostly my Supervisor's, I was allowed to go home for the weekend. Since I had Court scheduled for today (and y'all know how much I hate that) it's not such a bad trade. Although, I will be chained to a desk for the foreseeable future, that part will suck.

For now, I get to discuss things with my workman's comp representative and get that paperwork going. On Monday (which is a holiday for us South Carolina state employees) I get to go see a hand specialist to make sure that everything is okay with my hand. Of course the ER doctor did mention words such as surgery, but I don't think that will be necessary unless the wound gets infected to a point that antibiotics aren't working.

Since, I have a lot more free time, I might just have a post about past injuries ;)

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

The Gunslinger vs. The "Bug"

For the past two days I have been battling some form of an Ailment that I have never seen before. Luckily it is easily treated. However, this is not my first bout with this "Bug."

The first time occurred some time in early March, I believe it to be March 8th. It was 2000 hrs and I noticed that my joints started aching. Normally, this would not be that strange, if I was older. Or, if it was not every single joint below my heart. I dismissed it as the joints stiffening after a different type of workout.

After about half an hour I noticed that the pain was steadily becoming more...noticeable. Then the headache started. This I just dismissed as a caffeine detox from not having any kind of carbonated drinks that day.

As the night wore on the joint pain went from slight ache to red hot pokers jabbed into every joint below the chest. I was completely unaware of how many joints I had below the heart. Now I know.

I am not much for taking any sorts of medicine unless it is absolutely necessary. In this case I decided it was time for an exception and began searching the house for some Advil, Tylenol, Aleve, anything to stop the pain.

Not one single pill in the entire house. What a time not to have a wife, she would have made sure that kind of thing was kept in stock. However, due to the fact that it was now late in the evening, I decided that it would have to wait until later.

With the "Bug" in full swing, I slept through the first couple of Snoozes. When I finally reached consciousness it was 0630. So much for the morning routine.

I zipped through the morning routine in double time fashion and headed off for work. Yeah you heard true, work. Actually, I had to make a quick pit stop first at the car shop to drop off my car and meet Casey.

This was the 3rd or 4th time my car had been to the car shop for different things. Let us just say that it was a necessary thing that needed doing and would take all day, therefore I might as well go to work. Yet, another good reason to have a wife around.

Once the car was dropped off, Casey pulled up and told me of his wonderful night. That was the night that his daughter nearly plucked out his right eye. On the way to the office I told him about my night. Once there it was business as usual, except for the pain.

As the day wore on the "Bug" decided it would try something different. Now, it added hot to cold flashes and the pain would come in waves. The pain in my joints would go from red hot pokers to flaming hot poker of Death, then back again. After a while I just forgot about the headache.

To limit any possible infections to my fellow co-workers and in particular Agent S (who was still expecting at this time) I stayed to myself. Which apparently in in of itself raised suspicion. All through the day everyone was asking if I was okay, to which I gave the obligatory, "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little busy." Which they understood.

That is until about 1500 hours. Agent S came to me (one of the last male Agents in our office) to arrest a mail offender for her. I thought it over and told her that I did not believe it to be a good Idea, again not normal behavior. She asked me why and I was about to answer, when a wave of flaming hot pokers of Death hit. It apparently showed on my face. She then asked if I was okay to which I could only reply no. Once the pain subsided to what had become normal I explained what was going on.

She then went and told everyone else in the office and by the time everyone came to check on me, I was dying of Swine Flu. Funny how even among Law Enforcement details get distorted.

After a very long question and answer series about the illness and why I was at work, the session was ended by Work Mom, who simply stated, "If I get sick, I will shoot you." I thanked everyone for their concern and they went about the business of arresting the Offender.

At around 1650 hrs I received notification that my car was ready to be picked up. Casey dropped me off at the car shop and I promptly drove home. On the way, I called my Mother and told her what was going on and what I should do. She told me to pick up a pack of Advil Liqui-gels and a pack of Mucinex-DM.

Once home I took the "prescibed" medicine and waited. About two hours later I noticed an odd sensation. I felt as though the finger of God was sliding down my back cooling (and removing) the pokers.

This apparently torked the "Bug" off and he switched to a different Modus Operandi all together. About an hour later my left eye began to itch like crazy. Thinking nothing of it, I did my best to relieve the itch. That is until I noticed that I was becoming increasingly difficult to reopen each time it closed. I hopped up and went to the nearest mirror.

To my horror, my eye had swollen to the size of a golf ball. I immediately iced it down and called my mother and chalked it up to an allergic reaction to the Mucinex (the only one of the two drugs I had never taken before). After a while my eye returned to a normal-ish size and life returned to normal. I continued taking the Advil doses for a couple of days just to make sure the "Bug" did not come back.

I did not have any more problems with the "Bug" until this past Friday night. The "Bug" apparently did not take to kindly to being whooped. This time he brought a friend. Pollen Allergy. With my sinuses acting up it was hard to discern the headache from the sinus pain. But once the joint stuff started up, I immediately took a dose of Advil. Same all most immediate response. Except this time my right eye swole up. Thankfully I had an entire weekend to get over this thing because I needed it. I do not think I have ever slept so much in my life.

Anyway, it is now Sunday night and as far as I can tell the "Bug" is gone, at least for now. The symptoms are as follows: Severe pain in lower joints, mild headache, mild fever and slight chills late in the onset, the swollen eye thing could be the "Bug" reacting to the Advil Liqui-gels, I am not sure. But, if anyone out there has experienced this or is an actual Doctor with knowledge in how for me not to go through this crap again, please let me know. Thank you.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Our Mrs Goose

No, it is not what you think. For the past several weeks things have been interesting at work. So, much so that I do not want to touch a computer, much less sit and type out anything. Some of which was my own creation. Some, the creation of law makers in Columbia, SC.

As of late those of us at work have been watching the news very attentively. Mostly to see how the South Carolina Legislature will fix the current financial bind that South Carolina is in. So far, their big brainstorm is to lay off 100 agents, add 5 more furlough days for a total of 10, and increase the workload of the agents left, by releasing 3,000 inmates from the South Carolina Department of Corrections.

By my math (which is weak) that leaves me looking for work come the next fiscal year.

However, there is a bright side to all of this. So far this is only a proposal brought by the SC House. The Senate still has to make their own and they will have to come to terms. Yeah, I will not be holding my breath for a bunch of Politicians to decide my fate. Applications are already on their way out.

This is done with great sadness. I have invested a lot of time and energy in my job. Yes, to the exclusion of all else. Mayhap, that is why it is being taken away. For mine is a jealous God, and he does not take kindly to second place.

Be that as it may, I love my job and pray that I can stay. I do view the fact that I am putting out applications as a betrayal. Not to my bosses, they could care less if I stay or go, and certainly not to the pack of wolves that I over see, but to my co-workers.

If you have read any of this blog, then you should already know some of my feelings in this matter. My co-workers are more than just co-workers, they are my family. Some parts are dysfunctional, and some of them I do not like, but family none the less.

Okay, with that part out of the way, we come to the point. I am a fan of the Science Fiction Television Series Firefly. If you have not seen this show you need to. But, I am sure that any fan will recognize the title and have a glimpse as to what may follow. What does follow are two incidents that I found funny enough to share.

First, over the past several weeks I have been overloaded when it comes to my full report days. Having 60 + Offenders come in at the same time tends to cause issues. So, much so that my supervisor had to call me to her office and tell me the policy for reporting. Then she told me, for the next couple of weeks my entire team would be helping me straighten out my mess. No, that is not at all embarrassing.

So, with Agent S, still on the mends (and expecting), myself and Work Mom had to help her on her full report days. With the mandate that my Supervisor handed down, they had to help me on my full report days. And for pay back, Work Mom had me helping her on her full report days. All of which occurred on the same two weeks of the month. These quickly became known as "Hell Week".

With that in mind, Work Mom has taken a considerable amount of my reports in the past couple of weeks. Which did not go unnoticed by my Offenders, some of which are new to probation.
On one of the days that was not my report day, at this point I cannot remember whose report day it was. I was out taking reports with my team. Work Mom went to the door and called a name off of the list. Then, I heard something odd, "Mrs. Goose! Mrs. Goose!"

At the time I was taking a report, but hearing my name with an honorific that I had not heard since my mother got remarried, was enough to bring me to a halt. It apparently took Work Mom a second or two for her to figure out that the Offender was calling her.

"Mrs. Goose, when is my report day?" the hapless offender asked. "Excuse me? That is not my name." Work Mom told the offender in a hurt tone. "But, your my Agent right? Goose?" the offender continued. "No, I'm not your Agent. That is not my name. I did take your report, but that doesn't make me your Agent." Work Mom stated in an increasing louder voice. "But." "No 'buts'! I am not your Agent!" Before the Offender could say another word she stormed back into the reporting area. She then stormed to my cubicle with what I can only describe as fury in her eyes. I on the other hand was trying not to burst into laughter. The offender whose report I was taking was attempting to get as far into the corner as he possibly could.

"One of your idiots is out in the lobby!" She bellowed. I could not speak, if I did I would only start something that I would regret (brain-mouth filter finally installed). I stood up and walked to the lobby. My Offender still standing in front of the door with a bewildered look on his face. He began to say something, but I motioned for him to be quite and to follow me outside. I quickly straightened him out and he apologized at least 19 times, to me and Work Mom. After giving him my next report day, I sent him about his business.

I let things simmer down on this subject for the rest of the day. However, the next dayI began to rag Work Mom incessantly about this whole ordeal. Which, she blamed on me anyway. This is due to the whole mess being mine to begin with.

The second incident happened today. Recently a cafeteria opened in the building where I work. As a part of the service, they offer really cheap refills on a cup that they do not provide. Bring your own cup or previously used cup and get a drink on the cheap. Needless to say I frequent the cafeteria a lot.

With Agent S expecting her baby to come due any day now, she likes for someone to accompany her to the cafeteria. Since I am usually on the way there myself, I tind to walk with her.

Well, today I decided that I needed an early refill and noticed that Work Mom was already in the office. I asked her if she needed anything from the cafeteria. She stated that she needed a drink and would go with me to get it. So, we walked to the cafeteria and got our drinks. While I am paying for my drink the lady at the register asked me, "So, did your wife make it through the weekend?" This with Work Mom standing right beside me.

The first thought that shot through my head was, What in God's name is she talking about? Then, How drunk did I get over the weekend? Remembering the line from Firefly. Then I realized that I do not drink and discarded that notion. I then asked the woman for clarification.

She said, "Your Wife's pregnant right? Did she make it through the weekend or did she have the baby?" It then dawned on me to whom she was speaking of. Apparently Work Mom got it at the same time I did and started laughing. Work Mom then said, "What am I chopped liver?" emphasizing the point with a slap to the shoulder. The woman at the register then had to pick her jaw off the counter, "Oh my God. I am so sorry. Are you his wife?" Before it could go any further I jumped in, "No, no she's not. I'm not married. They are both just my co-workers."

Now, the woman just turned bright red. "I am SO sorry," the woman started, "I didn't mean anything by it. I just saw you two coming in here together so often and thought..." I stopped her before she could finish, "It's okay. It actually happens to me a lot." I paid for my refill and headed for the hallway. At least this time, I did not feel the need to bathe in acid.

Once we were back in the office, we checked to see if Agent S was at her desk. She was. We then began to recount what happened. She laughed and said, "We'll only be in trouble if he comes out looking like you." More laughter as my supervisor walked in and asked what was so funny. Again the tale was told. She did not seem to appreciate the story as much until I told her that we would have to change the team name to Team Goose, since most of the team now had my name. She chuckled at that.

These are but a few of the reasons that I would hate to leave this job. I guess we will have to see if the world moves on again.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Karma

This is a word that my partner, Casey, loves to bring up a lot, and I do mean a lot. Specific examples do not come to mind at the moment, only faint flashes of Casey talking crazy talk about near death experiences due to my driving technique.

The reason I bring the word up is due to my current situation. As of an hour ago I was sitting on my couch watching "Surviving Survivor" and wondering why it was so ever loving cold in my home. At the time I thought it was because I was situated under a fan and discounted it until after the show. When I looked at the thermostat I noticed that it was 59 degrees inside. I checked the thermostat to make sure that the settings were correct and found everything to be in working order. I then went to the gas logs and attempted to turn them on. It was a no go. There was no distinctive hissing noise made when the gas was turned to on. I concluded that I am out of gas.

I called the gas company and left them a very...urgent message. Especially when I am supposed to be in the midst of another "winter event" by morning. As much fun as last weekend was, I do not want the same thing this weekend with out the insta-fire or heat in general. Hopefully, the company will find time in their busy schedule to provide a paying customer what he asked for.

Now, for the possible reasons for the karma attack. Lord, where to begin...well...there is the myriad of times that I have "almost" personally delivered Casey to Purgatory, whilst I move on to the Pearly Gates. Then there is the 1...2...3...75 Offenders that I had to...encourage back to the straight and narrow.

However, out of all that, one face sticks out. He was one of my better Offenders. Always paid his money, and on time. He stayed out of trouble, but there was one issue. He was illegal. Three months ago, I called I.C.E. (Immigration and Customs Enforcement), namely an old co-worker of mine (lets call him Special Agent A), and told him about my Offender (lets call him Mitch). Upon hearing about the charges that Mitch had (somehow getting arrested, indicted, and sentenced without Immigration ever catching wind of it) Special Agent A told me that he would look into it and get back with me. Three months later he calls me and asks when Mitch would next report. The call just so happened to be the day before the report day that I had given Mitch. Special Agent A told me that they had something they had to do on the scheduled day for Mitch to report and asked me to have him come in today. I agreed and called Mitch.

I was kind of truthful in that I told Mitch that I had a scheduling conflict and I needed him to report today. Being one of my better Offenders he agreed happily.

Well, today arrived and thankfully I was taking reports for another Agent, because I had completely forgotten about the entire episode. At the beginning of another fun filled day of reports I got paged by one of the Administrative Assistants downstairs. Being rather upset at the interruption, I kind of grunted at her over the phone. She cheerily relayed the fact that I.C.E. was here to see me and my jaw hit the floor with the realization of what I had forgotten. After picking up my jaw, I told her to send them up, and after a few minutes wait they were sitting in my office.

I told them the could wait there for Mitch and were immediately inundated with questions from my fellow Agents. Mostly trying to get their immigrants, Illegal and otherwise, off their caseloads as well.

After a few minutes, I checked the lobby and found Mitch dutifully waiting for me to call him back. Once Mitch sat down in the reporting area Special Agent A and his partner were there taking him into custody. Through the flurry of Spanish words going back and forth Casey managed to pick out a few words. "No, I'm Legal." But, the thing that I noticed most, was the fear in his eyes.

When I relayed the horrible feeling in my gut to Casey, he mentioned the fact that most offenders that we arrest only go to jail or prison after I lie to get them in my office. Mitch, would go to a Federal dentention facility somewhere in Texas, before they put him on a plane bound for his 3rd world home country of origin.

Now, with my luck, Mitch was a leader for a local sect of Mara Salvatrucha (MS-13) or a drug runner, black market gun smuggler, or just a Harrier of the worst kind that acted nice when I was around.

In any event, the Angel that goes around bestowing Karmic events has come to visit and hopefully will be gone sometime tomorrow. Hopefully, before my pipes freeze, and all the living things in my home freeze to death.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Camping at home

Well here I am again, just coming back from a camping trip. Nothing like having your house for a tent. By that I mean the power has been out for the past eleven hours. The last time my power was out for any length of time was December 2005. The power was out for four days. Luckily I had some church members near by that had a generator and an extra bed for those cold nights. I learned some lessons from that experience. Obviously, not enough.

The meteorologists have been predicting this snow storm since last week. Unlike most Southerners and South Carolinians especially, I do not immediately run to the Grocery Store every time the weather man or woman says the word "Snow". So far this winter the Meteorologists have predicted "Winter Weather" three times, including this go round. The first time most of the jurisdiction got a lot of snow, mostly were Casey lives, whilst I received nothing. Second time same situation. Third time I get a big snow ball in my face.

On the way home last night Casey called me and let me know that it was in fact snowing in the northern part of the jurisdiction, where we live. By the time I actually got home the snow was sticking to the ground, but not the concrete, so...no worries. By the time I went to bed after midnight there was two and a half inches on the ground, still a no go on the concrete.

Now for you all up North, two and a half inches is a great snow for us. However, unlike the snow up North, this stuff is still wet. When it hits the ground it does not move for anyone. When they congregate together, it makes a mound of Ice that happens to look like snow.

Everyone always makes fun of us because when it snows, everything shuts down. No schools, no business, no government. Even with the South Carolina Department of Transportation plowing and dumping sand like we are at the beach, the roads are still treacherous. Unless you have the skills to drive on solid ice for an extended period of time, you keep yourself at home or walk. My Father could tell you stories about Folks from up North that move to the South and think that they can drive just because it is snowing and subsequently end up in the nearest ditch or in the rear of his Patrol Car.

Also, if you live around trees, expect to have limbs or the whole tree come down. Our trees are not used to the extra weight of the ice. They only get it once maybe twice a year. Once the snow becomes ice the trees start shedding the extra pounds. I usually take a walk to see the sights and to see if the SCDOT has gotten around to clearing the nearest road. It is usually very peaceful and soothing to see everything coated in white. Then, you hear a load crack from up above. Next thing I know I am running and tactical rolling out of the way of icicles and a huge limb.

Anyway, this morning I woke up to this unknown chirping noise that was not my bird. After my brain woke up enough to realize that it was the alarm system letting me know that the power was out. I grabbed my phone and looked at the time. It was 0535 hours...great, nothing like starting my Saturday morning at the same time I start every other day. So, I stumble out of bed, using the phone for a light (where my mag light that I kept for just such instances went I still do not know), to go tell the Alarm to shut up. Once done I called the power company to let them know that I would like their services back. After a few minutes of navigating the automated answering services I get the acknowledgment, "We know the power is out in your area due to a Winter Weather event. At this time we don't know when we will have your services back on." Awesome.

I decided that with the power possibly off for days, I figured I might as well get going.

Priority one: Move Frozen and cold essentials to a cooler. One thing I learned from the 2005 Ice Storm, even if the house is 35 degrees, it does not mean that the Cold box will keep anything. Lets just say that it was a mess.

So, I got the cooler out of the garage after procuring a proper flashlight. I opened the freezer and grabbed the bag of Ice that I now keep for just such occasions and what the Ice make made before it died. I then began moving the essentials to the cooler. I now realize that I need to work on my shopping skills. My cooler only had to hold a pint of Ice Cream, a gallon of Milk, and three packages of lunch meats. At least I did not have to worry about fitting it all in there.

Priority two: Heat. This one was easy, all I had to do was turn on the gas logs and wait for day light.

With nothing better to do, I grabbed a notepad and pen and started taking notes for this entry.

Once the Sun decided to get up, I took a look outside. As usual, at some point during the night the snow turned from snow, to a two inch layer of snow and one inch coating of ice. At least for the time being I would not be needing any more ice for the cooler. However, I figured at some point the snow/ice would melt and I would need ice. So, I grabbed a few extra water bottles and stuck them outside to freeze. So, far they have yet to freeze, even though it has been twenty degrees all day.

I then proceeded to take a walk down the hill and see the sights (and dodge the falling ice and limbs). Nothing like free tactical training. On the way back I took this picture:

With the exercises done I went back home and started reading. A few hours later I had a heart attack when the power came back on and the Alarm clock in the guest bedroom decided to play a random radio station at full volume.

I then called the Power Company to thank them for their speedy response.

Now, I am off for some more tactical exercises and to check on the neighbors.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

A Combat Engineer's Tale: Give Me Five Years And You Will Not Recognize Germany Again

Bridges. A piece of architecture that most of us hardly even notice...unless of course, your traveling through Charleston, SC and are afraid of heights. I am speaking of the Silas N. Pearman and John P. Grace Memorial Bridges (if you ever went over the Cooper River prior to 2005 you know what I am talking about). You also might take note when one is missing and need to cross a river, railroad tracks, or a big hole in the ground.

You would also take note of the bridges if you ever had to build one quick, fast, and in a hurry, while under intense shelling and sniper fire. My Grandfather has a picture marked of him during one such instance, helping to piece together a Baily bridge over the river Salm in Belgium. The exact place was the town of Vielsalm, Belgium. The date was the morning of January 17, 1945. The Allies had just begun their push into Vielsalm. The first infantryman used boats, any boats, to get across the river. However, to get more men and materials across temporary bridges had to be erected.

Shortly after dawn on the 17th the battle had already begun and the opposite bank of the river already captured. All the Engineers had to do was get the bridges up. My Grandfather said that he was glad that his Lieutenant and Captain, both had an extensive knowledge of how to build bridges. Usually the Bailey bridges were mostly pieced together ahead of time, behind the front line. The work made all the more import, my Grandfather said, as one of the Pontoons ferrying soldiers was hit by an 88 (88mm Anti-Aircraft Gun, often used as an Artillery piece). He said that they never actually came under sniper fire, but every once in a while you would hear the crack of a bullet wizzing over their heads.

As the Germans withdrew back into Germany they destroyed every bridge they left behind. They also destroyed buildings, left dead horses, trucks, tanks and mines in the roadways. Anything to try and slow down the Allied push into Germany. Almost, every river crossing had to be rebuilt before the Allies could forge ahead. My Grandfather recalled working with a British Company when building several bridges over the Maas and her canals in Holland.

Holland presented my Grandfather and the Company with several other new problems that also had to be overcome beside building bridges on the skeletons of the previous bridge. Usually if the Germans had time they would blow up the dikes and dams in order to flood entire areas. Not only would the Combat Engineers have to build the bridges but they would have to repair the dikes and the dams. My Grandfather said that the British crews were top notch when it came to fixing a dam and getting the water back out of a particular area. He said that he personally only had to work on one dam, but he heard about a lot of others.

After Holland came Germany. Everything that the 75th had been through up until this point had been a cake walk compared to what was coming. There would be no more happy civilians to give them shelter in the freezing nights. No more liberations. From here on it was German territory, the mother land, their land, their homes, their families. The Germans would make the Allies pay for every inch of German dirt taken.

The Rhine crossing must have been one of the worst for my Grandfather, because when that page came up he did not say anything, even when I asked him a question. I decided it was time to take a break from memory lane and we went back inside. It was getting dark out on the porch anyway. Upon entering the house my Grandfather went into the kitchen for a glass of water and I received "the Look" from my Grandmother. I know now that my Mother gets "the Look" honestly. I paid my Grandmother no heed and sat down in the TV room.

A few minutes later my Grandfather came in and joined me. I opened the book back up and we continued. He chose to skip right to post-war Europe and his time in Cologne, Germany and Paris, France. Germany would never be the same. Hundreds of years worth of history lost to American and British bombs. Entire Neighborhoods, Cities really, flattened. My Grandfather and the Engineers were tasked with helping to of course get the infrastructure back up. Every once in a while he would also take up guard duty at a gate to temporary American camp in Cologne.

He recounted one time late in the day when he and one of his buddies were standing out at the gate on a busy street. They were down the street from a bakery and it was well past lunch. My Grandfather noticed a man come out of the bakery with a fresh loaf of bread and put it in the basket of his bicycle. The man started peddling feverishly up the hill towards them. As the man got in front of the gate, my Grandfather decided to stop him. Something to the effect of "Stop! You need to be searched!" Yet in German. A simple phrase that my Grandfather picked up.

However, he failed to mention who should stop as he did not point anyone out. Well everyone on the street stopped, small children being walked home by their mothers, construction workers, a dump truck hauling rubble, and several people on bicycles. They all stopped and they all turned and looked at him. Even his buddy. Several seconds went by as he tried to figure out what he needed to do now. The people on the street began to wonder what was going on as the seconds ticked by.

Eventually he pointed to the man that just came from the bakery and motioned him over. He waved everyone else about their business. The man got off his bike and came over as the rest of the street slowly returned to the original pace. The man started asking questions in German. My Grandfather looks around and saw that the street had returned to normal and told the man to move along. The man looked at him questioningly, before my Grandfather told him to move along again. This time the man got back on his bike and started peddling. He also started yelling something in German. My Grandfather could on assume that he was being cursed at. The man continued well out of earshot. My Grandfather and his friend burst out laughing, drawing more looks from the bystanders.

During the war the 75th division had one of the highest casualty rates during their time in the war. They would go from being called "The Diaper Division" due to their complete lack of combat experience, to "The Bulge Busters".

During that time I can only assume that my Grandfather lost many, many friends. Once home he would learn of more losses. He found out that his wife of three years, left him for another man and that she took his house and sold it. He had to move back home with his Mom and Dad. That is until he met my Grandmother a year later. The rest is history.

If I happen to get more stories from my Grandfather I will be sure to recount them here, so that hopefully the memories will not be lost to time.

Also, for clarification, the title quote is from a sign that was hung on a building in Cologne, Germany. The sign proclaims that it is a quote from Hitler, however, I cannot find any evidence that Hitler did or did not say it. Either way, the sign reads true. The Germany left behind after the rule of Hitler was very different, far more different than even Hitler might have wanted.


Semper Fi Deus

Goose

A Combat Engineer's Tale Continued: I didn't know the Thermometer could do that.

Jack Frost has apparently found his way to South Carolina. For the past week it has been hovering around freezing during the day and dipping into the low teens at night (Fahrenheit). For South Carolina this is cold, and for an entire week of it is just down right not natural. However, it does make one take appreciation for the fact that no matter where I am, I can have heat. Casey and I were out conducting Home Visits today in this coldness (again, this is cold for us) and it really brought home one the stories my Grandfather told me.

Back in 1944, in Belgium, the temperatures that I am seeing would have been a God send to the Soldiers. My Grandfather did not know the exact temperature, but he assured me that it was cold. He said that he had never been so cold in his life. To make matters worse it snowed almost constantly. With the cold came an inability to dig proper fighting holes...fox holes, sorry. Marines dig fighting holes, Army digs fox holes. Moving on. However, this did give my Grandfather something to do other than make bridges and plant mines. He and the rest of his platoon systematically checked and repaired any earthworks between the lines. Every once in a while they would help with the "fox holes" if need be.

With the issue of the cold I asked how they stayed warm. He said simply that it was difficult. After a little time to think, he continued. He said that while the were on the front lines, they were not allowed to start or make a fire. Smoking a cigarette was out as well. With no fires they had to bundle up. With the limited supplies in the department of clothing, when ever they had the chance to go to town, they stocked up. Pickings were slim there as well, with the German occupation having ground any type of commerce to a halt and the Allies not conducting themselves much better, lets just say demand exceeded supply.

He then went on to say that it got so cold at night that he could not sleep for shivering, even when the shelling did not keep them awake. To stay alive they huddled together. The odd job did not hurt either. Digging a hole, making earthworks, and planting mines meant moving, which kept you warm, to a point. However, clearing a minefield under sniper fire and shelling would also help to get the blood going.

But usually the only times they would ever actually thaw out was when they were pulled back from the front lines. There they could build a small fire. This was made difficult with the wet tinder and fuel. But, this was easily rectified by prying open a rifle casing or two to get things started. Once or twice, he said, a local would take pity on them and invite them into there home, give them food and lodging for the night. This practice was highly discouraged by the brass, but when your cold, who cares.

Here, I make it seem as if the battle raged in one spot for weeks at a time. But, this was not the case. The battle lines were always moving. For the Allies it was mostly forward, once the 75th and the rest of the reinforcement showed up to the fight.

With this ever changing battle line my Grandfather and his platoon were often called on to fix a tank that slipped into a ditch after having first pulled it out of the road to clear up traffic. Keeping the roadways clear was an ever present hurdle. Sometimes, they were not pulling a Sherman out of the way, but a Panzer or Tiger tank that the Germans had to leave behind. If the Allies advanced quick enough to keep the Germans from flipping those monstrosities, the engineers got lucky. Flipping through the pages of the book I saw a picture of a Tiger Tank upside down.

For those of you that do not know a Tiger tank weighs around 55 tons, only ten tons less than a modern M1A2 Abrams.

I looked closely at the picture to see a crater or some other kind of evidence as to how the feat was accomplished. Seeing none, I turned to my Grandfather. He said sometimes they used explosives, if they were in a hurry. Explosives being expensive and harder to come by at this time for the Germans. But, usually they would use another tank, and pulleys if they had them. I asked if he ever saw it done and he said no. That he only suspected. Because that is how they usually righted the Tigers or dragged them out of the way.

Then came a little picture of a contraption that looked an awful lot like a still. My Grandfather was quick to point out that despite the fact that they would have enjoyed a good swig of shine, water was more important. With that came a rather important job, maintaining, guarding, cooking, and purifying water. Funny how he always side stepped the questions about guarding or where those rifle shells came from.

To be continued...

Semper Fi Deus

Goose