Each man is his own, responsible for his own choices and actions accepting consequence living out his own life. Deep within one’s own body, mind and Soul are his own reasons for pursuing a warrior life. No regrets.
Duty and Loyalty
Honesty & Clarity
Honor & Justice
To fully understand the meaning and purpose of this blog, you must understand warriors, true, genuine warriors. The culture and mindset of modern-day military special operations and intelligence set in unspoken tradition, standards and thinking handed down from generation to generation, across borders from warriors to warriors all over the world. In this small and very private community, a silent code shares dictating behaviors and expectations, internally consistent values and beliefs. Known for fierce independence and autonomy, threaded throughout devotion to duty, actions and behavior prove physical strength and mental resilience, intelligence, discipline, fearlessness, self-sacrifice, loyalty and honor to the death. To learn more, read Silent Code.
She is on my mind.
This woman simply won’t allow me to break through her resistance. No matter how hard I try, my words have failed. Coming across pathetic, I’m unable to get her attention. If only she took risk.
Damn…I want to ride the bike again with Jojo. Time with her was brief yet simple, not a care in the world… just the wind in our face and roads leading nowhere. We were just alone yet together, how I want the bike and Jojo again.
Harley ride, warm Florida nights, wind in our face, silent smiles.
Blue jeans, black shirt, tanned skin, arms wrapped around pressed close.
Dark skies, stars shine white moon on high, Spectre flies by.
Bright white head light, pine trees rise in the distant.
Panhandle asphalt, parallel ocean flowed deeper into night.
Warrior life no longer a threat, more at ease I became.
Becoming closer wanting our time to be true, we’ve fallen… too far behind.
That important, that impressive.
On the horizons I see her, on I move.
If my voice does not break through…I will raise the voices of the world.
This 2003 100th Anniversary Edition Harley Davidson Softail Deuce did it all. The very source of peace and so much conflict afterwards. My bike shared with Jojo for over nine months and 4,500 miles of riding together.
Day, night, morning or afternoon, in the surprise rain showers to blazing sun. By the Gulf Coast ocean front, to Sea Side, from Pensacola to Panama City and Destin, so many days and hours we shared on this bike. From the last ride I shared with Jojo, I sold this bike and never rode a motorcycle again. Call it grieving, call it what you want. Without this bike, Jojo and I never would have learned about each other the way we did.
What is one supposed to do? Found her smiling, eager to spend more time with you. Everyday riding your motorcycle, nine months together swiftly passes by. You do it wrong. Time and responsibilities force you to leave. She stopped smiling. Was it because you approached her, or because you chose to leave? You won’t know that answer.
Without saying it face to face, you would soon return. At 16, she is too young, messages written in code encouraging her not to quit on you leaves you in limbo. On with her life she goes, yet not once did thoughts of her leave your mind. Still wanting to find her, you move on, plotting the course of a new life to intersect with hers. Obstacles soon force you off course far greater than yourself beyond your control. Sometimes six months at a time, you’re taken away farther from her. No matter what is, failing to navigate close enough showing how serious you’ve become disrupts the efforts. Months go by, years pass by no closer have you become.
Silence. For almost a year her silence is deafening. What motivates is loud and clear, the experiences of her, images play and replay reminding how good her presence is, leaving you to want more. Instantly, naming off a hundred details why you love her. Her eyes, her laughter, tears of joy and sorrow, intelligence, boundless energy, radiating attractiveness…
Memories are all you have…you drive on.
Yet to be married…she pushes you further. No matter how many storms on the horizon…
Still on course.
Even if alone, I move forward.
What would you do?
Today, I think about John Chapman.
The song and it’s image listed at the end of this blog reminds me of a close brother in arms. Don’t look at the image below of a Gladiator and think of the actor. Instead, as you read this post, for a second of your time, look at the images and see a true American warrior.
The title of the song…”Not yet” means one warrior to another…I will see you on the other side, just not yet. There is more work to do and we will care for your daughters. From there, we will continue the good fight. So long brother, but, never good bye. To read John Chapman’s Air Force Cross Citation, please go to this link: Not Yet.
Growing old without Jojo and Little Man is disturbing. Time doesn’t seem the same and life isn’t the best without them. The sun does not set or rise. What was beautiful before is a passing thought today. What I valued before has little to no meaning. Without them, the day doesn’t arrive new and the night doesn’t come soon enough. Watching how fast these past eight years have passed concerns me. Why do lessons learned have to be so costly? Are all these challenges meant for a purpose where so many losses and failures happen for a reason? I ask these questions because from the very start, when forced to make a choice eight years ago, I chose to pursue a good life with Little Man and Jojo, finally new warrior responsibilities. After all that I failed at, I’ve come to believe that the unhealthy thinking I may have been pursuing the next warrior life. Fact is how I couldn’t have all three. Little Man, Jojo and that life.
Today, I seriously look at life different, but I don’t. To read more, please click this link: Spitting Teeth
I did everything I could to sleep with her.
She looked over the records where her notes collected over time from our weekly meetings. Dark brunette cut shoulder length, glasses, with tattoos hidden under her blouse. The artwork spread all over her shoulders, and down her back wrapped around her thin frame. She was strong-willed with a mind like a steel trap. It was the details she craved. With severe back problems from childhood, she pushed through her hidden pain. Every month she took injections to cut the pain, only once a month would she be forced to rely on a cane. Younger than myself, I could never understand how something so irritating could happen so soon to a woman.
Posted on the walls behind her were diplomas for a Bachelors and Masters degree in social work and medical policy, a Molly Pitcher award for leading military wives at Ft. Bliss, Texas. It wasn’t only how cute she was; some of it was her intelligence, most of it was how she rebelled against the mainstream. She was a pistol, and no one fucked with her. Being the lowest pay grade on the scale, she didn’t have high-profile responsibilities.
To read more, click on this link….The Only Exception.
For her, here is Paramore’s “The only exception.” Enjoy.
This article is from 1927. Spending time in hospitals, here is a note about the experiences.
Being in that hospital was one thing, being away from my family tore at me where the anxiety ripped my brain apart. It was the reality that pulled into a mental ward, it was all over with. I entered a place I feared worse than warfare. We all fear mental wards. Its forced on us by culture. In this case, I was a special operation’s warrior still in the community about to experience termination of my livelihood.
People were not only labeling me as insane, they treated me like I was crazy and a threat to the world I loved and defended. What hurt the most was how mental health issues are unacceptable where I had come from. Because of this fact, in a matter of minutes my warrior life would come to an end. A purpose in life I believed I was born and raised to do. Something I had wanted as far back as my memory takes me
From the start, I wanted to find these people. People I knew would be there for me and my family when we are most challenged even threatened. For us, a code of silence protected our community and still does. The purpose is to protect national security, for us, most importantly, this silence defends our families and preserves our way of life. Would these individuals be there for my family when they need help. As far back as I can remember, I knew I would do the same for those people.
The very dedication and loyalty I hold for my own family, I would give to them as well. To the point, if one of our family become threatened or worse, hurt, in the worst case scenarios, we would go as far as finding those responsible and bring them …justice. No matter if it took a day, weeks, months and yes, even years. We are that focused and patient. Taught in selection and training, we are capable of setting a task, goal or objective in our minds and not let go until it is completed.
What I mean is we wouldn’t carelessly go out and kill an individual. We would find them and everyone associated with them bringing them back to authorities. I repeat, we wouldn’t kill first. Instead, we would put the fear of God in them where they wished they were dead. Proof of this is how we are part of the groups who have hunted down Al Qaeda capturing or killing 80% of their leaders and people.
To understand more, please go to Warriors…unspoken truth, silent code..
Not afraid of the past, after ten stays at VA mental hospitals, I’m driving forward. Today, I’m going to share some experiences.
Combat mental illness or PTSD is a difficult subject, embarrassing, complicated even too difficult to explain.
As you read this blog, not only do you need to understand Jojo and Little Man, you must understand the path taken since 9/11. A personal journey.
Allow me some time to put thoughts on paper. This post will be a page, not a long post. I’ve learned my lesson in posting. For now, I’ll leave you with another song and brief note. Keep this in mind. When I post songs from women, they make me think of Jojo. I’ll post only songs that I believe feed into this post. If they only show one image and not a video, the purpose is to listen to the lyrics describe Prepare to Cross over.
Prepare to cross over
The whining piercing sound of hydraulics introduce you to the sounds of a military MC-130 cargo aircraft. Inside the aircraft, a red light illuminates leaving you to squint to get acclimated to the darkness. A highly skilled team of aviators flies this plane into a predetermined mission somewhere classified.
As a member of the US Special Operations Command I had the privilege to work with this aircraft. This account is what it is like to jump from this plane at 30,000 or six miles above the earth.
Read about this account at Airborne Insanity.
How is one supposed to get a woman like this out of your mind. It’s impossible to walk away from Jojo. Let it go and move on in your life. You are 14 years older than her, she’s too young. Going after her will take you backwards. That’s what they all say. All I can do is raise my hand and flip the finger.
Who am I?
Why the fall?
I’m a Dad. A warrior. A Father. A man.
Somewhere in southeast Afghanistan heading directly for Kandahar, it is nine weeks after 9/11/2001. America as a whole, all of its citizens and the world are still in disbelief from the surprise Al Qaeda attacks against the New York Twin Towers, the Pentagon and Pennsylvania. It is our country that tries to heal from the most horrific attacks on U.S. soil since the Japanese surprise attack on December 7th, 1941…60 years earlier. Now over 3,000 innocent people have been killed by Al Qaeda, a global Islamic terrorist organization led by Bin Laden and Al Zawahiri.
We are the first 200 Americans on the ground in Afghanistan following 9/11. All of us are trained and highly skilled. We’ve all trained and been hand-picked experiencing rigorous selection courses where 85% of those who try out, fail to succeed. Trained in advanced communications, I’m skilled as a SCUBA diver, Military Free fall and Static Line Parachutist. A parachute Jump Master. Dive Supervisor. Qualified in over ten assault rifles, pistols, heavy machine gun and sub-machine gun weapons. Capable of infiltrating in any helicopter, aircraft or assault vehicle and motorcycles. Trained in advanced navigation on foot, vehicle or animal. Specializing in air to ground tactics using aircraft, space and Cyber assets. I’m the integrator of the air war with battles on the ground.
The afternoon is hot and dry with piercing brilliant blue skies free of clouds. We have over a hundred vehicles formed in a “V” formation all moving forward heading towards the home of the Taliban. Kandahar. I’m in the backseat of a maroon Toyota Hilux pickup truck sitting behind the driver, Ken, a US Army Special Forces 18D Medic. I’m assigned to move with a US Army Special Forces 12 man “A” team. I’m their primary source for “air support” or aircraft for security. With a small silver hand-held “Garmin” Global Positioning System (GPS) receiver in one hand and an outdated survival map in the other, it seems I’m the only Air Force operator for several hundred miles.
Balancing an M-4 Assault rifle between my knees, my personal weapon from work I spray painted brown and tan despite the Air Forces regulations telling me no. My rifle has an ACOG scope, BE Meyers miniature infrared pointer also a 40mm grenade launcher mounted on the rail system attached to the stock. Feeling the weight of a load bearing vest over my shoulders and around my waist, I also carry a black Beretta 9mm pistol. With suppressors on both weapons, I’m carrying over 500 rounds of M-4 ammunition, 9mm rounds, 40 mm grenades and survival gear.
My unit has joined an American armada of forces from the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps and Coast Guard mobilizing and moved out all over the world. Allies from countries like Britain, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Norway and Denmark have joined America. The Global War on Terror or GWOT has officially begun.