Gunfighter: A Modern Warrior's Life

Remembering Nick Manoukian

A few years ago, I first told you about the story of  A young Marine from Michigan, who lost his life in the Anbar province of Iraq.   His name was Nicholas Manoukian, and he was 22 years old when he died.

Since then, I have posted about this dedicated young man several times, particularly on Veteran's Day.  You see, I promised this young man's mother that I wouldn't forget her son, and that I wouldn't allow others to forget him, either.

Nicholas Manoukian is one of over four thousand Americans and untold hundreds of thousands of Iraqis who have been killed in Iraq since the U.S. invasion, of that country, and now that President Obama has said that all American troops should be out of that shattered country by the end of this year, I want to say something that I think is important.

You see, we Americans have short memories.  Seriously short, if you can recall our last Presidential election we were concerned about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and now all we do is quietly shake our heads about them.  Those on the left have moved on to Occupy Wall Street and other things, and those on the right are up in arms about gay people and wrecking the ability of our goevernment to govern.  Now, not too many people talk about these wars.  I guess it isn't popular for anyone these days.  Well guess what, kids?  These wars aren't over, and Americans are still dying. You probably already know how I feel about the wars, but this isn't about that.  I want to talk to you today about a particular young American.  A young person who is probably fairly typical of the soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines who have lost their lives doing the bidding of our government.

 

This is Nick Manoukian.  A husband and father from Lathrup Village, Michigan.  He lost his life during his second combat tour in Iraq, in 2006.

Look hard, folks.... look and ramember that this young fellow died for his country.  Look and remember that no matter what your politics are, this country, for the sake of it's own soul, has to remember that the actions of our government have consequences that mean more than political rhetoric.

By all accounts (I have been in touch with Nick's mother, Mary, and several of his Marine  Corps comrades for a few years now), Nick was a great son, and a first class Marine.  He was also a good friend to those who knew him.  The loss of this young man is a loss to all of us.

I didn't post this on Veteran's Day this year, because I didn't want it to get lost in the general flag-waving and fist pumping that generally happens then.   I want people to remember Nick Manoukian on days that aren't so special.  I want you to remember this young man who left a grieving, heartbroken mother and wife & child.  I want you to remember him for all of those who won't come back from those places.

 

Corporal Nicholas Manoukian, 1st Battalion, 6th Marines, 2nd Marine Division, 1984-2006

Crime & Punishment

I got to sleep in this morning, because Mrs. GF is still in Boston and I have to take Soccer Girl to school.  So when the alarm clock went off this morning, I had the opportunity to spend a little time listening to NPR, which I enjoyed.  There was the usual news, traffic, and weather stories while I showered, took the electric razor to the graying stubble on my chin, and as I got dressed, there was a story on gang-related crime in Virginia.

I will cut to the chase and tell you that the story itself was interesting, but what I found objectionable was the fact that some people (certainly not all) were actually of the opinion that since prison sentences for criminal gang members doesn’t prevent young people from joining gangs, criminal prosecution and incarceration isn’t the way gang crime should be combated.

This is what I wanted to talk about today.

I suppose that it won’t shock you to hear that I think that the sentiment expressed above is just so much piled up steaming horse**** on a cold Virginia morning.  While I am as much about crime prevention as anyone, I believe that when prevention fails, as it sometimes does, that prosecution after the fact is the next logical step.

I have never been able to get next to the notion that “building fewer prisons” is a solution to anything.  It seems to me that the “build fewer prisons” crowd is more about coddling the criminal class.

Yes, that is what I said… the criminal class.  You did realize that there is such a thing, didn’t you?  Those people who are wired towards wrongdoing… those that no matter what things you legalize, they will continue to break whatever other laws that there are, right?  Those people.  I call them the criminal class, because I think that is what they are, other people use a scientific name for them, they call them sociopaths.  Well, not matter what you call them, they are real.

So, what do you do about the criminal class?   For me the answer is simple:  When a person is convicted of a crime, they should be incarcerated for a long period.  Symbolic jail sentences and so-called country club jails should be things of the past.  I say that if you commit crimes, you should do hard time.  Why hard time?  Because, generally speaking, rehabilitation doesn’t work.

Jail might not fix the brokenness of the sociopath, but neither will trying to reason with him (or her).  Getting them away from the rest of society is about the best you can do.

On My Mind This Morning

So, on the drive into the office this morning, I realized that this was the first morning in a couple of months that I have driven to work in total darkness.  I reckon autumn is on it’s way.

 

Road lit by tail lights

Commuters, to your labors!

We welcome the dawn

 

Japanese poetic stylings aside, I thought about a few other things as well.  One of those this was the person that I regularly see in the vicinity of the Springfield Interchange, who drives a SmartCar.  You know what I mean, right?  One of those little cars that looks like nothing so much as it looks like a roller-skate with a steering wheel.  Well, I don’t have an ax to grind against little cars, nor am I against  ecology-driven mechanical design… it’s just that I really think that the last places anyone should be driving a SmartCar is on the Interstate highways… especially I-95 in the vicinity of Washington, DC.  It just doesn’t make good sense.

__________________

 

Other thoughts had to do with the dream that I had last night/this morning.  In my dream, Mrs. Gunfighter and I were trying to bribe our way through an airport, onto a flight from some Soviet-style country to the United States.  Apparently, I had the bright idea to give the ticket clerk a really crisp bill (not sure if it was a $20 or something larger) that was stuck inside of a church bulletin.  I know, kind of strange, but it gets stranger.  Apparently, my ruse didn’t work, and we had to flee the airport… but the place that we fled to was the yard of my childhood home. 

 

We walked into the yard, but is was strange, because when I was a kid, the vacant property next door was sold and a new home was built, but in my dream, that house (which was owned by a local police officer) had been torn down, and that property was just grass-covered.  I talked to the people who currently own the old house, and the man said that he wanted to show me something, and that was a small brass plaque.  On the plaque was a raised treble clef, and a dedication to Mrs. Bertha Medley.  Mrs. Medley was the choir director in my church when I was a little boy.  She has been dead for years.  The man also asked me why I had used a church bulletin printed in Japanese at the airport.

 

Strange.

 

 

 

I also spent some time wondering about where I was going to go for lunch… but I got nowhere with that.  The simple answer is somewhere that I can have a few minutes of alone-time with my book.  That is where I will be at about 11:15 Eastern Time.

 

___________________

 

Then I thought about exiting the highway, and trying not to get into a flaming wreck while I did it.  I was successful.

 

___________________

 

I had a good workout this morning… thirty minutes on the elliptical and then a vigorous round of lifting the kettlebells!

 

I started writing this little post while I was cooling-down, and finished 5 minutes before post, after showering and changing.

 

Oh, and I am testing a new holster today.  Exciting, no?

 

 

Today’s post was brought to you by the number 49, and the letter S

On My Mind Today

 
 

So let's begin: This afternoon, while Mrs. Gunfighter and SoccerGirl were at the salon, I went to get a few things from the grocery store. When I parked the car, I noticed the bumper sticker of the car next to me… it was this:

Now, don't get me wrong, I am all about free speech… I love it, but, I have to tell you that freedom of speech also means the freedom to be a complete f***ing idiot. Seriously… was this sentiment necessary? You have heard me comment about this more than once, but I am afraid that I have to bring it up again: Supporting the troops has nothing to do with endorsing our current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan… and yes, I know that the war in Iraq is technically "over" (whatever that can possibly mean for 50,000 combat soldiers in a country where people still shoot at you).

In my view, supporting the troops means making sure that they have what they need to fight. Making sure that they have those things, for a civilian, means producing weapons, ammunition, training, equipment, food, uniforms, and transport (among other things). Now most of us can't really do anything about those things on an individual basis, but what we can do is this: We can make sure that those things get paid for and into the hands of the people that need them as fast as possible.

I am on record as being against these wars from the start, but you have never heard me, or most of the people who are against these wars deride the soldiers who are fighting them. You have never heard me or nearly any of the people who are against these wars complain about the cost of said wars, except in terms of the cost in human lives. No, the people who are most in favor of these wars are the cheap, miserly, outright nasty SOBs who spend so much time carping about taxes. Taxes pay for the wars folks. Taxes buy the ammo; feed and clothe the soldiers; buy the gas that fuels the helicopters, drones, bombers, and Striker vehicles.

Once again, it has to be said that it appears to me that the second most patriotic act that you can do when your country is at war is not waving the flag, it is bearing the fiscal cost. Conversely, the most unpatriotic thing that you can do is to claim to "support the troops" while be unwilling to pay for them.

 

 

 

This fine fellow that you see here is Charlie. Of course you already know that. This is a picture of Charlie taken as we drove back from the kennel the day after we came home from vacation. Isn't he a handsome fellow? That is my boy!

 

 

Now this… I found this picture online after I read a story printed somewhere several weeks before I went of vacation, but never got around to writing about. I won't take too much time with it today, because we are heading off to church in a little while, and I want to get this posted. What I would like to say, as emphatically as I can, is this: Eww!

Seriously.

I suppose in the fashion industry, this might be the ideal female figure, but not in the world that I inhabit. I am rather sure that it isn't in your world, either. Lord have mercy, people… where was this fashion show held?, Bergen Belsen? There is something very wrong with us, friends, if the standard of feminine beauty looks like a starving 12 year old boy with long hair and high heels.

 

 

In this picture, you can see some of the people in the M-4 rifle class that I was teaching just before my vacation. If these chaps look tired and worn out, it is because they are. If you didn't already know, here in northern Virginia it was nearly as hot as the surface of the sun for most of the summer… these guys are seriously feeling it. They were a good class, though, out of 24, all but two were able to qualify with their new rifles.

 

 

This speaks for itself... or at least it should!

 

 

Lastly, you get a picture of me, taken with my webcam, minutes ago. It wasn't supposed to be thelast picture, but Mrs. GF needs the computer before we go to church.

 

Cheers,

GF

 

What Do You Hope For?

I think that people throw around the "hope" far too much in our society. 

We use that word so much, it loses its weight. We even use it in political campaigns (jeez).  

I think that hope is important because hope focuses our life's work sometimes.  Hope is what we really want for our futures. I don't mean that hope is defined as being merely the things that we would like to have happen, but something we intend that has at least some possibility of fulfillment.

Am I making sense?  Maybe not, but this is what is on my mind today... sue me.

I have hopes, we all do.  Many of mine will come true, some won't... I even know which one or two almost certainly won't come true... but that doesn't mean that I will stop working towards their fulfillment.

What do you hope for?

I hope for the success and happiness of my children.  I want them to be safe.  I want them to have long happy, safe lives, full of love, humor, and satisfying work.

What do you hope for?

I hope for peace.  No, not world peace, which is just so much nonsense, I am talking about hope for peace in my soul.

I hope to finish my career and live in peace.

I hope to live to old age as someone who is loved.

I hope to be remembered as someone who made a positive difference in the lives of others.

I hope that when people think of me, they will smile... or even laugh.

I hope to continue to live in God's grace.

Those are some of my hopes.

 

 

What do you hope for?

Gunfighter and The World Cup

You know something?  Despite the fact that I was a youth soccer coach for a few years, I never really learned to love the game.  I mean... I understand soccer.  I even know how the game is played.  I fully understand the offside rule, how and when what color cards are used for what type of offenses, and I believe in the supremacy of the referee.  I get it.  I really do.

  

Having said all of that, as an American man of a certain age, I didn't grow up playing soccer like so many suburbanite kids do today.  I am from Vauxhall, New Jersey, and we played football, baseball, tag and other games in the street.  I played intramural football as a boy.  The kids who didn't play football, played little league baseball... there were even some kids at my school that played lacrosse.  Sure, we had soccer teams at my high school, but people pretty much tossed that aside as soon as high school was over. 

Why? 

Because we are Americans, and soccer isn't our game, that's why.

At least.... it wasn't our game.

Fast forward from my high school graduation (in 1981) to today.  We live in a country where a bunch of guys (mostly over 40) stand around the office in the morning talking about how crappy the referees call were in SOCCER games!  We care about the United States making it out of the initial stages of play in the World Cup.  We even talk about vuvuzelas (WTF?) in normal conversation

 
To make things worse, while I was at the Barnes & Noble at the mall with my family this Saturday (Tyson's Corner) and kept hearing intermittent cheering... and I wondered what it was all about, until we were leaving and walked past the TGI Fridays.  It turns out that everyone was cheering about the third-place game between Germany and Uroguay.

Things have changed in America, indeed they have.

Despite those changes, I have remained aloof about soccer.  Oh, sure, I am as happy as anyone about our country having announced itself as a major player in the worl of international soccer, but I am jingoistic like that.  Give us 20 years, and we will be beating the living crap out of the best that Europe and Africa can throw at us!  But I digress.

As I said, I don't love soccer, I can't even say that I like it, but what I will say, with complete honesty is this:  There is nothing like watching soccer when the game is being announced in Spanish.  If you don't believe me, go here.

I congratulate the Spanish team for their victory, the Dutch team for getting as close to victory as they did, and all of the participating teams that qualified for the tournament.

 

Dear America, On Your Birthday

Dear America,

Happy Birthday, kid!... you look pretty good for being two hundred and thirty four years old.

I gotta tell you, to be your age and in the shape you are in, you must be doing something right.  It must be that freedom thing that you have going on.  Yeah, the ability to vote in elections and pick your leaders... that is one heck of a thing.  I think that having the ability to stand up and be counted is one of the best things about you, pal, may it last your whole life through. 

There are other things about you that I like that I think are vital to being as strong as you are.  That thing is your ability to accept and digest practically anyone from anywhere, and remain strong.  Sure, I know what some people say about you... some say that your best years have passed.  Some say that you are getting older and you can no longer digest elements from certain parts of the world.  Some say that in order to be safer you should be LESS free. Can you believe that?  There are even those who say that in order to be free, you need to start checking people for proof of citizenship on the streets of our towns.   Well I say that is a bunch of crap!  My friend, your strength is in your liberties.  Your strength is in your openness.  Your strength is in your people from wherever they hail... and that includes places outside of Western Europe!

So, on this important birthday, my great and good friend, let me tell you that I think that you are just getting started.  I think that you are getting better every single day.  I think that you improve every time there is a violence-free election.  I think that you improve every time a foreigner takes the oath of citizenship.  I think that you improve every time someone shouts dissent at unjust laws, or the unjust use of power, violence, or intimidation.

America, thankfully you have a strong, yet flexible constitution.  You are healthy, and as we all know, the healthiest among us have the ability to adapt and change as needed.  It is a blessing to us all that you can do it too.

 

Happy Birthday, my friend.  Live long, and prosper.

With warmest regards,

Gunfighter

The Sacking of Stanley McChrystal

You know, I have lived and worked in Washington, DC since 1986.  I arrived here as a young Marine only twenty two years old.  One thing that I learned very early on is that what you say may come back to bite you in the ass if you aren't careful.  Not that you have to guard your every syllable, but it is prudent to be aware of what you are saying and to whom it is said.

ESPECIALLY WHEN TALKING TO A POLITICIAN OR A JOURNALIST!

Now we have General Stanley McChrystal, who, by any indicator that you care to use is a capable officer and a good commander.  McChrystal, by all accounts has given good, faithful and honorable service to his country.  He is a patriot and he has the best outcomes in his heart and mind for his soldiers and for his civilian  leadership.  I think that General McChrystal is a good man.  I also think that President Obama was right to sack him.

Look, the armed forces of the United States... or of any democracy, MUSTbe committed to the principle of civilian rule and leadership.  This means knowing when to talk and knowing when to be more circumspect about voicing an opinion.  You would think a man of McChrystal's years of experience would have known better.  Apparently not.  What makes this matter worse, is that clearly McChrystal's behavior has gone on long enough beneath the radar, that the members of his staff felt free to copy said behavior and make some of the comments they did. 

This is one of those circumstances that is just plain bad for everyone, but the President had no real choice.  You just can't have a General officer speaking like this and ignore it.

I am sure that a man like General McChrystal will do quite well outside of the Army, since people with drive and energy are prone to success.

Good luck.

"Hey, General... what were you thinking?  Dude, you are SO fired!"

On My Mind This Morning

We have known each other for a long time, haven't we? Some of you have been with me since I started blogging four years ago. In that time I am sure that you have gotten to know a little about me. certainly, we have known each other too long a time for us to try to bullshit each other about anything, right?

Right.

So here I am, keeping it real: I hate ass-kissers. You probably already knew that about me, but I had to tell you again.

Do you know who I hate more than the run-of-the-mill ass-kisser? It is a firearms instructor who is an ass-kisser!

Is there no integrity left? Was your promotion worththe forfeit of respect? 

Is there no courage to tell the boss that he/she has failed to qualify?

I am completely disgusted by someone whom I used to call protege and even friend.

Can you tell that I am having a great morning?

What Do You See When The Demons Come? (reposted)

Hiya.  I wrote this on June 8th, 2009, and since it is a frequent search term that leads lots of people to my blog, I thought I would post it again for those who missed it.

In 1993, Clint Eastwood starred in a movie called "In The Line of Fire", which was about an aging, troubled Secret Service agent, who had failed at the critical moment and could have possibly saved John F. Kennedy from being assasinated. 

The movie goes on to set up another assasination attempt against the current (fictional) President, and this time, the Agent is pitted against a psychotic, CIA-trained killer-gone-rogue, played most awesomely by John Malkovich.

The agent and the assasin develop a strange relationship, in which they communicate with each other telephonically and personally, throughout the movie before the end of the film where....  oh, never mind.  This isn't really a movie review.  I'll just say that you should buy the DVD or get it from NetFlix if you get the chance.  It was nicely done, well-acted, and all of that.

Trust me... you'll like it.

The reason for this post has nothing to do with the movie except for the fact that at one point in the film, Malkovich's Character asks Eastwood:  "What do you see when you're alone the dark and the demons come?"

That is what I want to talk about.

Your demons... mine too.

Demons.  We all have them.  Some are more terrible that others, I suppose... but we all have them.  Now, I'm not talking about bat-winged, harpy-type demons.  I'm not talking about the legions of Hell or anything like that.  I'm talking about your darkest, most secret fears.

What are you afraid of?

For some people, demons might come in the form of emarassment, or failure, or public speaking or... CLOWNS!  and if you are afraid of clowns, dude, I am totally down.  I hate clowns.  I even hated them before I saw Steven King's "It".  While I have never liked clowns, they aren't the thing that terrifies me.  Clowns are scary, weird, and not at all funny or even amusing, but even Pennywise doesn't creep me out to the point of terror.  No, my demons don't come in the form of clowns... indeed, my demons don't even have corporeal form, and yet, I still have them.

Some people see their demons from afar, acknowledging their existence, but never having to do much about them other than work hard to avoid them.  Some people live with their demons right in their faces.  Some people have to deal with their demons in a very personal, daily, in-your-face kind of way.  How awful. 

Some people only see their demons at night, in the short time between going to bed and going to sleep.  That's my time.  That is when they come for me.  That is the time when I do battle for my psyche and my soul.  The thing about my demons is that I always win.  I always will.  On a nightly basis, my demons are slain, usually with my rather large hands around their throats.  Demons are evil, but they always fail to reckon that attacking a warrior is a bad idea... I quake in fear of neither man, animal, nor even my own personal demons.

So, before you ask what my demons are, I will tell you that I choose not to speak their names.  I don't speak their names lest I give them power.  I don't speak their names lest I give someone a handle on my personality... a handle to be manipulated.

Yes, I have demons.  You probably do, too.  How do you live with yours?