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MTV Invites Transgender Military Personnel to 2017 VMAs

Reality television station MTV has extended an invitation to all of the active duty transgender troops in the United States military according to CNN. However, before the troops can attend, they must get approval by military authorities.

All active duty personnel face certain restrictions when participating in certain national public events. “At this time the Department of Defense is reviewing the parameters of the request,” Pentagon Spokesman Lt. Col. Paul Haverstick said.

“This is about who is considered a valid human being,” says first openly trans person to serve in U.S. Army
“MTV has invited transgender members of the U.S. armed forces to the 2017 Video Music Awards and we would be honored if they could attend,” MTV president Christopher McCarthy said. “Any patriot who is putting their own life at risk to fight for our freedom and stands for equality is a hero at MTV, and to young people everywhere.”
The network has taken steps this year to overhaul some of its categories to be gender neutral, replacing Best Male Video and Best Female Video with the new Artist of the Year award. MTV has also changed how it references its iconic trophy, which is now referred to as a “Moon Person” instead of a “Moonman.”

This year’s show is certain to draw a number of artists making political statements. In 2010, Lady Gaga mocked the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy by entering the stage with service members discharged due to homosexuality. Last year, former ‘NSync alum Lance Bass wore a jacket that read “Love Trumps Hate” in an effort to derail Donald Trump’s presidential campaign.

With the number of transgender military members a hot-button issue for many, the acts of this year’s show are bound to reflect that.

To read the entire article from Rolling Stone, click here:

Photo courtesy Wikipedia

Iraqi Forces Driving on Islamic State Held Town of Tal Afar

Iraq’s armed forces announced that they’ve captured two areas on the edge of the town of Tal Afar. Lt. Gen. Abdul-Amir Rasheed Yar Allah, the commander of the Iraqi troops, said that Iraqi Special Forces drove the Islamic State militants from one area on the southwestern edge of town and police and paramilitary units from another in the northwest.

In further developments, the Iraqi forces are moving to encircle the city on Iraq’s northwest border near Syria. Iraqi forces captured three more neighborhoods – al-Nour and al-Mo’allameen in the east and al-Wahda in the west.

The U.S.-led coalition is supporting the move providing airstrikes for the Iraqi troops, and there are reports of U.S. and other special forces are operating near the front lines.
British Maj. Gen. Rupert Jones, the coalition’s deputy commander, said Iraqi forces are off to a “really positive start” and are “closing the noose” around the militants.
“The key is that they’ve broken into the city,” he told Pentagon reporters via videoconference from Baghdad.

The Islamic State which swept into Iraq and Syria has been taking a beating in recent months trying to hold onto territory it deemed their “caliphate” in both countries. But despite setbacks in Mosul and elsewhere, they still have a reported 2000 fighters in Tal Afar and 2500 in the Syrian town of Raqqa where the fighting is still raging.

To read the entire article from ABC News, click here:

Photo courtesy Wikipedia

When Leftist Students Wearing Che Shirts in Bolivia Want a Title Shot

As one can guess from the title of this, it isn’t going to end well. I have a built-in bias against anyone wearing a Che Guevara shirt. Every time I encountered this, it usually ended in an ugly fashion. Sorry, but there it is. And I’ll spell out my experiences below.

One of the biggest paradoxes I’ve encountered during my time in the military was the love affair of the Bolivian college students with Che Guevara. He was a murderer, a racist and was trying to export his revolution to Bolivia where he met an untimely end in 1967. The Manchego Ranger Battalion, with training and advisory assistance from the Special Forces men from Panama and the CIA routed his merry little band of guerrillas. In truth, Che’s idea of “revolución” resonated little with the Bolivians.

And yet back in the heady days of massive Special Forces and DEA support during the 80’s and 90’s when there was a constant influx of SF guys and SEALs all over the country, Che was everywhere. At the big university in the capital city of La Paz, there was a huge mural of Che Guevara on the wall of one of the buildings covering about 3 stories. Che’s likeness was on every other building it seemed. And the college students, who went to the very anti-American, leftist universities there, all wore Che t-shirts, as if it were a badge of honor, rather than someone who invaded your country trying to start a revolution where one didn’t exist.

Naturally, they didn’t take very well to the Gringos who they all thought were part of the DEA. And in those times, the SF and SEALs didn’t look like regular soldiers with the short military haircuts and the “I’m on TDY orders” method of dress. Whenever the Americans from the embassy there, and it was a big staff back then, would find a place like a popular disco or nightclub, the leftist college kids would begin to flock in the place and once the odds got what they felt were in their favor, say 8 or 10-1, they’d get brave, very brave. It never ended well for them, and more than once we left a pile in our wake as we got out of Dodge and tried to avoid a “diplomatic faux pas.”

But the leftists’ biggest targets were the Marines. Being a Marine Corps Embassy Guard is a cush assignment for the young kids in the Corps and because of their strict standards that they maintain 365 days a year, they stood out like a sore thumb. They all had white-wall haircuts that screamed US Marine wherever they went. And as a result, whenever the Detachment was downtown, there would invariably be an issue, that they didn’t start but would finish. As a result, the Marines were restricted to their house, which was a beautiful palace that served as home and that had its own bar. At least one weekend night every week, the embassy staff would pile over to the Marine house and at least they’d get to have somewhat of a social life.

It was a shame, they were all great kids and didn’t want any trouble, they just wanted to get out and see the city and countryside just like we did, but weren’t allowed to. Being assigned to MILGP (Military Group in the embassy) in Bolivia, my partner Dave Ortiz and I became fast friends with the Marines and they had us over for a Detachment Dinner at their house which was an honor. They had a rough job and many of the diplomats treated them badly. But they had a job to do and they did it well. And were always polite and maintained a sense of humor about the crazy situation that was La Paz in those days.

The Marine guards also had quite a few good athletes and three of them played on our Embassy softball team. Baseball was out in Bolivia. We had to play fastpitch softball on baseball fields because of the altitude. La Paz is 12,000 feet above sea level. If you ever watched baseball from Denver, with the Colorado Rockies, you’ve seen how far a baseball travels in the Mile High City. La Paz is two and half times the altitude of Denver. I’ve hit a restricted flight softball in La Paz farther than I’ve ever hit a baseball in my life.

The games were always a fun outing for the La Paz embassy staff as they were pretty isolated up there in the Andes. Many of the embassy staff with their families would trek out to the games, mostly at the Bolivian military academy and cheer us on. Since so many diplomats were there, the Russians with their “discreet” surveillance guys would always nose around to see what’s up with all of these Amerikanskis. Dave would always do his best DeNiro impression on the way to the ballfield. “Hey f**kos, let’s go for a ride.”

The Embassy ball team was always winning the championship of the Embassy circuit. We played Japan, Korea, Dominican Republic, Venezuela and a couple of Bolivian teams as well as a couple of other American teams every season. The Cubans had a team that desperately wanted to play but their government wouldn’t let them because we were in the league. They were afraid that being too close to the Gringos would cause them to defect. But on Saturday’s after our games, the Marines weren’t allowed to imbibe in a few libations with the rest of the guys if we went out after a game unless we went to someone’s house. This one particular week, we were playing Venezuela for the championship (again) and were good friends with the players from their team. We planned on going out that night to celebrate. So I had a brainstorm.

Embassy ball team minus the Marines who weren’t allowed to play after a certain incident. (author photo)

Dave and I went up to see the Ambassador on Friday afternoon to plead the Marines’ case. We explained that the ball team and a bunch of family members were going out that night to celebrate the team’s upcoming victory (yes we won). That if he’d let the Marines out, there would be plenty of senior SF NCOs and Officers present. Plus the Navy SEAL Commander and the Air Force Major from the MILGP.

The Ambassador was reluctant but agreed, telling Dave and I that he didn’t want to hear about any problems this weekend. I uttered the soon to be prophetic, “Sir, what could go wrong? Everything is going to be fine.” Oh, how wrong I was.

After dinner and drinks with a huge crowd of us and the Venezuelans at a Brazilian Steak House, we went to a disco where some rock band was playing that was supposed to be very good. It was in the basement of this large brick building and you had to take this steep staircase down into the bar. The Venezuelans took off because they didn’t care for the music. But there were about 25 of us Gringos with almost half of those women from the embassy or wives/girlfriends. The band was indeed pretty good and we were having a good time. That’s when the specter of Che appeared.

I was talking to the Gunny of the Marine guards, he had his wife there, and the three of us were making small talk when I saw his eyes flash to the door. Three punks wearing Che shirts come into the bar. Two tried to be nonchalant and lean against the wall while the third disappeared up the stairs. We knew what was coming next. The Gunny immediately called their drivers to come and pick them up and told them to pull up on the side street. Dave and I told the Gunny that if any crap started, for him and the Marines to get out and get his wife out of there. He wasn’t having any of that. “No F**king way Chief! We’ll deal with the fallout later, we’re not running and leaving you guys here.” I don’t know if I ever told him, but at that moment, I loved him like a brother.

Sure enough, about 20 or more of these university kids came pouring the n door and a few of them were pulling bandanas around their faces. On a side note, what is it about chicken punk bitches that makes them feel that a bandana makes them a bad ass? Whatever.

One of the Marines, Sammy was at the bar with his girlfriend when a Bolivian kid whipped a whiskey glass and hit Sammy right in the back of the head. Game on.

In an instant, we cut a swath thru those kids making a beeline for the door to get out of there knocking out anyone in the way. We got to the door and got everyone (women first) out. One unfortunate Bolivian kid got tossed thru the window at the corner of the bar, who knew there was a 10-ft drop to the ground? He didn’t master the art of the PLF (parachute landing fall). Getting to the top of the steps were about 7-8 more kids spoiling for a fight. Dave, the Gunny and myself were the last three up the stairs.

The rest were charging up the steep ass stairs trying to get the last three Gringos. But they forgot two very important tenets of Unconventional Warfare (UW), never conduct a frontal attack when the opponent has the high ground. And never mess with the one-legged man. Dave had lost his leg a few years before and was one of only three men missing limbs on active duty then. Now there are plenty of guys who remain on active duty with prosthetics which have become quite high-tech. Back then, Dave had a plastic molded leg, cast over a car’s leaf spring to give his foot some flex. If he kicked you, it was the equivalent of getting hit with a Louisville Slugger.

Back in those days, Dave, when back at Ft. Bragg worked out with Jim West, who many of our SOFREP readers know from his self-defense classes that he posts on our site. Jim’s one of the baddest men I ever met. Dave used to spar with him (for fun). Four idiots tried to take the stairs and were kicked in the teeth…good night Irene. We got to the stairs and there were kids knocked out everywhere on the sidewalk. We got the hell out of Dodge, before the Bolivian cops and the press arrived, ensuring we had everyone and immediately went to the Marine House.

Other than Sammy having a huge knot on the back of his head, we were in good shape. The Gunny was justifiably nervous and reported the incident up the chain, as he was supposed to do. We told him, that since we left before the cops and press arrived, no one could really point to the Marines having even been there. That theory lasted until Sunday morning.

The Bolivian rags had color photos of about 5-6 knocked out dopes strewn about the sidewalk on the front page of their Sunday papers with the headlines, “US Marines Invade Bolivia”, “Marines Beat Up Peaceful University Students” and the like. Captain, later Colonel Stu Bradin saw the newspapers first and gave us fair warning. “Stevie, you and Dave told the Ambassador that nothing was going to happen….Brother you guys are so f**ked.” Thanks brother…I know.

Dave and I arrived early at the Embassy on Monday morning waiting for the inevitable call which came promptly as the Ambassador arrived at 7:45, yes he’d like to see you two….now.

I’ve had my ass chewed by NCOs and Officers, but never by a diplomat. He had a way with words that, if I wasn’t the one getting my butt chewed, I would have had a voice recorder on since it was beautifully put. He did have a way with words…I guess that’s why they paid him the big bucks. We did our explaining and finally, he seemed to understand that the last thing we’d do is look for trouble with wives and girlfriends with us. Some of the State Department girls had already passed the word thru their people which got to the Ambassador before we got there and he knew the deal.

But the newspapers were the issue. “How the hell am I supposed to explain this to Washington?” he said pointing at the pictures of the newspapers. I was floundering, “Sir, we did what we had to do to get out of there safely with the women. Dave, my partner, my brother, Mr. Tact himself said, “hey sir, we didn’t start anything, F**K them.” The first thought to come to mind was, “they can’t shoot us for this can they?” We were given the boot out of the office. The Ambassador later cooled down and understood that it wasn’t the Americans but the Bolivians who started the mess. No adverse action befell the Gunny or the Marines. Or any of us. After that, those punks decided discretion being the better part of valor…gave us a wide berth. But the Marines were restricted to their house ….again.

That’s why even today after all these years, whenever I see a Che Guevara shirt, it immediately puts me on edge. And when the person wearing it has a bandana to boot…. the back of my neck gets as hot as a two-dollar pistol. Che was a murderer and a racist and was everything that these kids claim to hate. But the more things change… Now I see an entirely new group of people wearing Che shirts…if you think it is cool to wear a Che shirt, do some research before you do. Besides, the last thing we need is for the Marines to “invade” another place.

Photos courtesy: Wikipedia, author

White House to Announce Guidance on Transgender Troops Ban

President Donald Trump is moving forward with his instructions for the Pentagon to ban transgender troops and is reportedly sending guidance to the Pentagon according to official government sources. The Wall Street Journal was the first to break the news.

According to the guidance that will be sent to the military service chiefs, is that the military is to stop admitting transgender troops. For troops already in the service, the Pentagon must consider a service member’s ability to deploy when determining whether or not to expel them from the service. The guidance will also contain a proviso for the Pentagon to stop paying for transgender troops’ medical regimens.

It is not clear if the memo is finalized. The Pentagon said in a statement Wednesday night that it “has not received formal guidance from the White House as a follow-up to the Commander-in-Chief’s announcement on military service by transgender personnel.”
“The (Defense) Department continues to focus on our mission of defending our nation and ongoing operations against our foes, while ensuring all service members are treated with respect,” the statement read.
The Pentagon said it would provide an update when the formal guidance is announced.
House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi, D-California, responded to The Wall Street Journal’s report with a tweet Wednesday night: “This is NOT how you keep America safe. Period. #ProtectTransTroops.”

To read the entire article from CNN, click here:

Photo courtesy Wikipedia

US Navy to Relieve Commander, 7th Fleet After Numerous Collisions

The U.S. Navy on Wednesday relieved the Commander of the US 7^th Fleet based out of Japan for “loss of confidence” in his ability to command after the service has suffered four catastrophic accidents at sea. The last two have cost multiple sailors their lives.

Admiral Scott Swift, commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet has relieved Vice Admiral Joseph Aucoin, the three-star commander of the U.S. Seventh Fleet based in Yokosuka, Japan from his duties at the 7th Fleet’s Yokosuka base. Rear Admiral Phil Sawyer, the Pacific Fleet’s deputy commander, will immediately assume command. Sawyer had been scheduled to assume the post on Sept. 7.

The incidents include the deadly collision Monday of the destroyer USS John S. McCain with a much heavier oil tanker off Singapore, and a June 17 accident in which the destroyer USS Fitzgerald was ripped open by a larger Philippine container ship.
Seven sailors were killed in the Fitzgerald disaster, and at least some of the 10 sailors reported missing from the McCain are dead, Swift said Tuesday. The search for their remains continues inside the stricken ship as well as in a widening area of the Straits of Malacca where the collision took place.
Aucoin has been the 7th Fleet commander since September 2015, and was previously the deputy chief of naval operations for warfare systems. His removal, first reported by the Wall Street Journal, is the highest profile in the Navy since the disasters occurred.

The Navy has an on-going “deliberate reset” for all ships that will focus on navigation, maintaining mechanical systems, and manning the ship’s bridge appropriately. It was ordered by Admiral John Richards, Chief of Naval Operations and will be overseen by Swift in the 7^th Fleet.

The 7th Fleet is responsible for an area that covers 36 maritime countries and 48 million square miles in the Pacific and Indian oceans. The fleet has anywhere from 50 to 70 ships assigned to it, including about a dozen at sea at any time.

To read the entire article from Reuters click here:

Photo courtesy DOD

North Korea Promises ‘Merciless Retaliation’ to US, South Korea

The military war games conducted by the United States and South Korea elicited a typical North Korean response. Pyongyang threatened both countries on Tuesday with “merciless retaliation” over their ongoing joint military drills.

North Korea’s state-run Korean Central News (KCNA) had a bombastic warning that both countries they “should take the whole responsibility for catastrophic results from (a) reckless war game.” The annual joint exercise is a 10-day mutual defense drill that consists of 50,000 South Korean forces and 17,500 US troops taking part.

Pyongyang views the annual drills as an invasion rehearsal. South Korea and the U.S. describe them as defensive in nature. This year’s drills come amid a war of words between North Korea and the U.S. over the former’s threat to launch missiles into waters near the U.S. territory of Guam, although tensions have eased in recent days.
In a separate opinion piece published by KCNA, North Korea described President Trump as a leader who tweets “weird articles of his ego-driven thoughts” and “spouts rubbish” that make life for his aides difficult. In previous commentaries, the North has described Trump as “going senile” and a “war maniac bereft of reason.”
A North Korean diplomat appearing at a United Nations forum on nuclear disarmament in Geneva on Tuesday said Pyongyang would not negotiate over its nuclear program. Ju Yong-chol said his country’s nuclear deterrence was a “justifiable” and “legitimate” form of self-defense in the face of hostile U.S. foreign policy.

Adm. Harry Harris, the commander of U.S. forces in the Pacific, said the drills are critical for maintaining readiness against an aggressive North Korea. In other comments on CNN, Harris stated that “testing our forces will be foolhardy.”

The US released footage of F-16s scrambling off the Osan air base runways, which can reach the DMZ in 2-3 minutes and the U-2 spy planes that they monitor the North Koreans with.

To read the entire article from USA Today click here:

Photo courtesy Wikipedia

How NOT to Attend Warrant Officer Candidate School (WOCS) Pt. 2

In the first segment of this piece, we talked about the initial trip down to Ft. Rucker and we introduced our readers to retired CW4 Wade Chapple, one of the bigger characters I came across in my time in the military. Wade and I served in 1st Bn. 7th SFG(A) together, went to the Warrant Course in the same class and got assigned to 3/7 down in Panama after graduation.

We were roommates at Ft. Gullick (Espinar), and to jump ahead a bit, when we arrived in Panama the housing office wouldn’t let us move in until work that was being done was finished. Well, we just really needed a place to dump our stuff and deploy anyway, and it turned into a fiasco but Wade convinced the housing office to let us move in and they were free to finish work. We lived in what was known as “the pit”, with all DOD school teachers as our neighbors.

We were just down the hill from the pool and our work schedule prevented us from using it during normal hours. The MPs were always trying to catch anyone in there at night, and Wade wanted to get his Scuba legs going so every other night, we’d sneak into the pool when we were around and swim laps and hide under the surface when the MPs would drive by. Of course, if they’d caught us, the explaining to the Bn CDR why the two new officers were trespassing would have been a good one. Never a dull moment. But I digress, and it is back to Ft. Rucker. The cadre members of the WOCS had given the SF guys the $hit detail of cleaning their offices one night. We had some of the kids helping out and in reality, it wasn’t hard.

But between Chapple and Brian Bewley we made it a UW exercise in sabotage. Bewley got a bunch of those old flash cubes that would go on top of those old film cameras. I know you younger people are like “what the heck are those?” He started wiring all of the TACs desks with the flash cubes and batteries with one of our other SF guys, a tall guy from Bad Tolz whose name, unfortunately, escapes me after all these years. Must be CTE/TBI.

However, as soon as they would open their drawer of their desk, poof! A big flash would greet them. No harm, just a startling reminder that the freedom fighters of Pineland were in their midst. As they were doing this, Chapple took an Exacto knife and started cutting around a large wooden hand that each of the TACs had outside their door. The usual procedure was for the candidates to enter the office and pound three times on the hand before entering their respective TAC’s office for the weekly counseling. Most students didn’t really pound it but would open palm it to make a loud slapping sound which would suffice. Chapple wanted to make an entrance for our next morning counseling, and he neatly cut the drywall all around the hand. Everything was set. We finished the cleaning and headed off to bed.

The TACs normally arrived about 15 minutes before the students were woken up at 4:15 a.m. for early morning PT session. By four we were all awake and dressed and looking out the window at the TACs building. They all arrived at about the same time and entered the office. Making small talk in the hallway, no one had entered their offices yet.

Finally, they sat down at their desks. Our biggest nemesis, our own “Rat-Face” a CID warrant, opened his top drawer ….POOF! He jumped back and yelled WTF!. The others came quickly. He explained what happened and opening the drawer, they found the flash cube. The others began laughing (very surprising), they encouraged him to open another drawer….POOF!. So now they were all involved going from office to office opening desk drawers laughing like kids at a park. Pressed against the glass across the street, that wasn’t the reaction we were expecting. We filed out for PT, the TACs came out and said nothing and we PT’d like any other normal day. While we were running, as one of the flank road guards, I stopped at an intersection until the class passed. One of the TACs, young Aviation CW3 stopped beside me jogging in place. As we were running to catch back up with the front, he said, “Hey,…. nice job last night.”

All of that benevolence was soon to be a thing of the past thanks to Mr. Chapple. We filed into the offices for the craziness that was the weekly counseling. I was in the office of the most bizarre Guamanian CW4 ever. In between telling/nearly yelling that I was never going to pass the course, had no leadership potential, that I should quit now, yada, yada, he kept stopping to offer me a banana on his desk. He kept saying that with the heat and the all the sweating we were doing, I needed to eat more bananas for the potassium which he pronounced “Potash-um”. It was crazy. He’d go off on a rant and stop himself and then say, “Please…take the banana…is good for you.” I was barely listening waiting for Chapple who was on deck to go next door. That’s when all hell broke loose.

When a candidate entered the TACs office, he was supposed to make himself heard…no wimpy knocks. When Chapple hammered the wooden hand, the drywall that he’d cut the night before easily gave way and the wooden hand flew thru the wall and into the TACs’ office and landed on his desk. He went ballistic. Wade was doing pushups on the floor in the hallway. The students “bracing the wall” that knew what was happening, were trying to stifle laughter, the ones who didn’t stared in total open mouthed amazement.

I was quickly booted from the other office to join him in the hallway. We were sent outside and they commenced to smoking us for a good amount of time. The sweat was running down our faces and nobody was offering me a banana now. I guess my “Potash-um” levels didn’t mean squat anymore. Throughout the smoke session, they’d ask us if we wanted to quit. Chapple kept saying, “You can’t beat me up.” Finally, one cadre member said, “What do you mean? Nobody is laying hands on you.” Wade responded, “When we leave here, we’re going to SERE School and they’re going to beat us up. This isn’t that bad.” That ended that.

Coincidentally, it was the last time we were tasked with cleaning the offices.

The flag detail mentioned in the first piece was interesting. We got tasked to do it and having never done it before, we asked the TACs for a manual which they gave us the night before. Bewley, I believe it was who took charge and assigned everyone a task and we rehearsed it once or twice. We filed over to the flagpole outside the Post Cdrs’ office. The first time went off without a hitch, it looked smooth and it turned out the General wasn’t in his office. The second time, we could see him checking us out. He had a reputation as a stickler for this particular ceremony and had the reputation as chewing out the detail and the cadre members if they messed it up.

We did…if I don’t say so myself, a bang-up job. There was no messing around here and we mustered all of the drill and ceremony pomp we could. We were pretty pleased with ourselves when the General’s aide, a young Major came out and asked us to standby because he’d like to talk to us. We didn’t know what to expect so we stood there and waited. The General came over and had a big smile on his face. “As I was looking out the window, I was thinking, these guys don’t look like the ordinary flag detail from the WOC course,” he said. “All Special Forces guys?” he asked. “What was this, some kind of punishment?”

We were all quiet and Brian said, “Ah we thought so sir, we were told that you regularly chew out WOCs at the flag detail.” The general laughed and said that wasn’t happening today. He told his aide to send a note to our cadre that the flag detail for that Friday was the most professional he’d seen since becoming the Post Commander. “So,” he asked, “Are we stealing all of you guys for Aviation?” When we told him we were candidates for the SF Warrant Program, he shook his head. “I didn’t think they’d let that many of you guys come our way.” He made small talk, asked us about some of the deployments we’d been on and wished us all luck. Who said that guy had a stick up his butt?

As mentioned before, the classes during the day weren’t anything earth shattering in terms of learning new material, for us, with an average of about 10 years of service, it was all just a rehash of things we’ve had before. One of our classes was a writing class that we had at the Instructor Training Course at Ft. Bragg. It was taught by a civilian, an older woman who looked like she was in the dictionary listed under Sweet Grandmother. She spoke slowly, softly and talked to everyone like we were her favorite grandkids.

Chapple asked her from our seats in the back row if indeed we had to have this class since we had it at Bragg. She smiled and said that we did because it was part of the WOCS curriculum. No problem, Wade said, we were just asking. And then let out another one of his tremendous burps. Grandma was shocked and her mouth made a perfect “O”. When it came time to read some of the stuff we had written, Wade read his in perfect Spanish like he was teaching a class down south. She looked at me, as she’d taken a seat in the back row. I smiled and she just shook her head. “That was very nice Mr. Chapple but can we do it in English perhaps?” she asked. Grandma was the one person Wade couldn’t rile up, not that he wanted to with her.

At the end of the WOC course, you have one final inspection, done by a group of cadre officers from another battalion so that there is no bias involved. The last two weeks that is all everyone talked about, students, TAC officers …everyone. And even though they were supposed to rotate the leadership positions every week, the cadre picked the two guys with “no leadership potential” to be the class leader and student first sergeant. That’s right Balestrieri and Chapple,…Heaven help us.

The course was winding down and the BS got put to the side, now they wanted everyone to graduate and move on. There was one thing that they didn’t play around with and in this case they were right. There was a method of rolling a tee shirt tightly when wet, then putting it on a lamp covered with a towel, called baking. It would make your shirts tighter than the third monkey on Noah’s Ark in the rain, but it also would ruin the shirt and was a huge fire hazard. And in the WWII buildings, they wouldn’t tolerate it at all. Anyone caught doing it was immediately given the boot.

My stuff hadn’t been touched in ten days, so the last few days were kicked back with just formations, PT, and chow. I was in our building when someone came and got me. Some of the kids were panicking. Worried about the final inspection, many of them were baking t-shirts. I called an immediate class formation. The switch to the SFAS cadre came right back on. This was the last thing we needed to deal with.

I cut loose on the class, telling them that anyone who was in panic mode after all these weeks was a sorry MFer and doesn’t need to be in the farkin’ course. One of the brown nosers who correctly assumed the cadre were watching, told me that Candidates were not supposed to use foul language while a student. “If my language offends you, Fuck You,” I said. We’re talking about getting at a minimum getting a student and his bunkmate booted from the course, not to mention a fire. Then winding it down, I said, we’d all got to that point, if we continue to play the game, every one of us was going to walk across the stage and graduate. I was just about to release the class when from behind me the Senior TAC appeared. He made it clear…loudly so, that this wasn’t a game and it was serious business and for me to relay that ..and then dismiss the class.

“I stand corrected,” I told the class. “This is not a game and will be treated accordingly.” The senior TAC was going in the head shed. “So, continue to participate in the sport, and you will graduate. Dismissed.” I was the only one doing push-ups that afternoon.

The CW4 who did our final inspection was a Special Forces guy from 1st Group. He was busted up and walked with a cane. But he knew Bewley and was going to play a practical joke on him. He and two of his officers came in the barracks during breakfast. And they filled Bewley’s laundry bag with a ton of contraband.

When the class filed back from chow we started the final inspection. Everything was going smoothly until Bewley’s turn came and when they dumped his laundry bag, extra belt buckles, boots, belts, and a nip of Jack Daniels came tumbling out on his bunk. The silence was heavy. “Something you want to tell us, Candidate?” Bewley’s face went red. “Obviously that was planted by someone who wanted to watch me go down in flames.” They all cracked up.

At the end of our inspection, we were all passed…imagine that. The SF warrant told us, our orders had changed and we were needed at Bragg early because SERE school was starting early. We approached the cadre and they got us out-processed quickly. But they still wanted us to go for the final “victory run”, followed by a 10 a.m. ceremony. The other guys had a noon flight that would put them in Fayetteville early. But Chapple and I were driving and that was going to take longer.

We talked it over. Wade said, “Well, we got our diploma, we are already out-processed, I say screw that…let’s sky out of here at 4 a.m.” So when everyone was woken up, he pulled his truck on the company street and we commenced to packing it up. The cadre were staring at him, knowing he really wasn’t leaving he was just loading the truck and putting it back in the parking lot. Nope. I said goodbye to a few guys and walked outside. Wade started the truck and snapped a perfect salute to the cadre who stood there staring at our tail lights going down the street. He even left on his own terms. Chapple 2 WOC Cadre 0.

A few weeks later, we were in the middle of SERE School, in the final phase, and I don’t have to tell you what happens, you’re made “uncomfortable”. We were paraded about with bags over our heads and were made to kneel in the gravel. One by one the “bad guys” were going down the line and hitting prisoners and asking some silly question. When it was my turn, I was only hit a glancing blow. “That didn’t hurt,” I thought I said to myself. But it was out loud. That got remedied quick, and yes it hurt.

As I was trying to kneel again, they popped the guy next to me and asked him, “Where are coming from?” Even with a bag over his head, I’d recognize that voice anywhere. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to go where that MFer next to me (meaning me) is going”… he was “chastised” many times by the guards for constantly asking them “What time is it?” in a subtle bit of turning the tables on them and a “small victory” for us.

Chapple 1 SERE 0.

Photos Courtesy: DOD, Wikipedia

Trump Commits Long-Term To Afghanistan War, Troop Numbers Uncertain

President Donald Trump has committed U.S. support in the ongoing war in Afghanistan. While not offering specifics in regard to a number of troops that would be involved, his decision was welcomed by the Afghan government.

In a nationally televised speech from Ft. Myer, VA on Monday night, Trump admitted that he favored a withdrawal from the war-torn country and was going against his instincts in approving this new campaign strategy sought by his top military advisers, but said that leaving would pose a greater risk.

“The consequences of a rapid exit are both predictable and unacceptable,” he said. “A hasty withdrawal would create a vacuum that terrorists, including ISIS and al Qaeda, would instantly fill.” The Taliban released a statement stating that they would make the country a “graveyard for the American empire.”

Still, he promised an end to “nation-building” by U.S. forces in what has become American’s longest war and stressed that ultimately Afghanistan’s struggling police and army must defeat the Taliban.
“The stronger the Afghan security forces become, the less we will have to do. Afghans will secure and build their own nation and define their own future. We want them to succeed.”
Most of the approximately 8,400 U.S. troops in Afghanistan work with a NATO-led training and advising mission, with the rest part of a counter-terrorism force that mostly targets pockets of al Qaeda and Islamic State fighters.
While Trump said he would not discuss troop levels or details of the new strategy, U.S. officials said on Monday he had signed off on Defense Secretary James Mattis’ plans to send about 4,000 more troops to Afghanistan.

Trump called out Pakistan for allowing safe havens for terrorists inside of their borders. The Pakistanis strongly denied this, “There are no terrorist hideouts in Pakistan,” spokesman Major General Asif Ghafoor said.

To read the entire article from Reuters, click here:

Photo courtesy Wikipedia

Bergdahl Chooses Trial by Judge Rather Than Jury

The Army court-martial trial of Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl has taken another turn as his defense team has decided to be tried by a judge — not a military jury — on charges that he endangered comrades by walking off his post in Afghanistan.

Bergdahl faces charges of desertion and misbehavior before the enemy at his trial which is scheduled to take place in late October at Ft. Bragg. If convicted of the most serious charge, he faces life in prison. His lawyers filed a brief in court last week that Bergdahl has chosen trial by judge alone rather than a jury panel made up of officers.

Defense attorneys declined to comment on the decision. But they previously questioned whether Bergdahl could get a fair trial by jury because of negative comments President Donald Trump made on the campaign trail.
Earlier this year the judge, Army Col. Jeffery R. Nance rejected a defense request to dismiss the case over Trump’s criticism of Bergdahl.
Rachel VanLandingham, a former Air Force lawyer not involved in the case, said defense attorneys likely felt limited in how they could probe juror opinions.
“They lost their ability to ask all the questions they wanted to ask, one of those being: ‘Did you vote for President Trump?'” said VanLandingham, who teaches at Southwestern Law School in Los Angeles. “They felt that was very important … for fleshing out whether a panel member could be fair.”

Bergdahl was captured by the Taliban in 2009 after walking off his base and was eventually traded for five Taliban prisoners held at Guantanamo Bay. One aspect of the trial that the judge hasn’t ruled on yet will be will he allow testimony on the casualties suffered by Bergdahl’s unit when they went searching for him.

Bergdahl has been stationed at Joint Base San Antonio awaiting the trial. He is not under any pre-trial confinement.

To read the entire article from The Fayetteville Observer, click here:

Photo courtesy DOD

How NOT to Attend Warrant Officer Candidate School (WOCS)

I spent the better part of Saturday afternoon on the phone with one of oldest and dearest of friends. My buddy Wade Chapple is a retired Chief Warrant Officer CW4 from 7th SFG(A). He’s also one the funniest guys you’d ever meet and an absolute character. We spent the entire time remembering the good, funny times of our careers and my sides literally hurt from laughing so hard.

Wade was one of the most tactically and technically proficient officers I’ve ever known. After a short time as A-Team XOs in 7th Group in both Panama and Ft. Bragg, we both were team leaders as at that time there was a dearth of Captains in SF Branch. He later moved on and was the American advisor to the two Colombian Special Forces Battalions, that were co-located at the site of the Lancero School and the NCO Academy. We’ll feature more of that in a later date.

But back when we were just a bit younger, we attended the Warrant Officer Candidate School (WOCS) together. The Army in its infinite wisdom decided that SF NCOs who are transitioning to the Warrant program need to go back to a sillier time and learn how to roll t-shirts the size of a Coke can, stand numerous inspections and step back in time for grade school antics. Our class was filled with about 50 high school kids who wanted to fly helicopters. There were six SF NCOs and a couple of CID agents. We had known each other in 1st Bn. 7th SFG and got orders to go to Ft. Rucker for the WOCS. Rather than fly commercial, Wade was going to drive his truck and was looking for some company. “Awesome,” I said. “This should be fun.” Little did I know …

Putting two smart-assed Yankees together on a road trip to the south should be a piece of cake right? We drove down to Rucker, got on the base about 3 in the morning and were searching in vain for the Student Company. You’d think there’d be a sign right? Wrong. After driving around aimlessly for 30 minutes, we saw a huge black dude with a shaved head and carrying his luggage. Pulling over, I yelled, “Hey buddy, are you going to the head shed to sign in?” He turned and said, “Are you, two students?” …Suppressing my smart-ass response, since we needed an answer, I said, “That’s right pal, students.” “Second door on the right,” he said. “The one that has a light on.”

We pulled into the parking lot, walked up to the door and signed in. We got our stuff out of the truck and made our way to the barracks, an old Army WWII building at the end of the street.

Our very first student formation set the tone. A bunch of Warrant Officer TAC-Officers descended on the formation, trying the old intimidation game. It scared the hell of the high school kids, for us it was like …meh, whatever. Then the door to the Tac Shed burst open and the big black dude appeared. He wasn’t a student but a CW3. “Oh this ought to be good,” Wade said. The warrant was scanning the crowd and sure enough, he spotted us at the back. He tore thru the formation looking for you know who. “You find your way BUDDY?, PAL, BROTHER? ” he screamed in my face. “Yes thank you, sir.” My response wasn’t good enough for Wade. “Hey, at least we asked the right guy…er Sir.” The TAC almost laughed then caught himself and promised to keep a close eye on us two. It wouldn’t be hard.

They broke our company up alphabetically, which means that four of the SF guys, Ross Andrews, Brian Bewley, Chapple and myself were in one squad. Four E-7s and a bunch of kids right out of basic. Ross was a quiet guy with a wry sense of humor who often wondered, I thought, what did he do to deserve going with us. Brian was a former 3/7 guy who came from 1st Group and is a super dude. It was a marriage made in heaven. In fairness, the WOCS cadre had no idea then (the SF Warrant program was still fairly new) on what to do with us. The course was really designed for the high-school-to-flight-school kids. The chicken$hit harassment and games they played had the opposite effect on us. Truth be told, the kids were in awe of us. Older guys with SF. Ranger Tabs, EIBs/CIBs, Master parachutist wings, Combat Diver, HALO badges….you get the idea.

If the cadre were smart, they’d have encouraged the SF guys to mentor the young kids and show them the way. Instead, their mission was to “break and belittle” the SF guys in an attempt to get the kids to fall in line. It failed miserably. We were constantly harangued in front of the other students as having no leadership potential and were singled out constantly for the usual chicken$hit infractions. Their mind games were amateur stuff, I had just come from being a cadre member of Selection where the mind-f**k is an art form. Shortly after submitting my WOCS packet in 7th SFG, I came under orders for the Special Warfare Center, SWC. And SWC sat on my packet until they got nearly 18 months out of me. Ah, the joys of the school house. We finished a class four days before Chapple and I left for Rucker. Talk about changing hats quickly.

Our first Company run, they made the SF guys the six road guards. Four flankers and two in the front, where the pace was set. Chapple and Bewley were Combat Divers and anyone who has been to Key West will tell you that they love to run and do so fast. As the run was progressing, they kept oh-so-slowly kept picking up the pace. When we came down the company street the formation was stretched out like a snake. The TACs were pissed. We pushed Ft. Rucker’s landscape down a few inches after that.

The daily inspections were always comical. You’d come back from class to find the barracks tore up at times and it really wasn’t a big deal. The kids freaked, so you picked up your stuff and put it away…what else was there to do? Someone had told us, use Neutrogena soap, it dries with no bubbles and won’t get gigged on inspections. Sounded reasonable enough. Except that Wade decided that it looked too pretty in his soap dish, so just before leaving for the class he bit his bar of Neutrogena leaving a full set of teeth marks visible in it. He got extra demerits for biting his soap. Little did they know that this just encouraged more shenanigans.

The only peace was during the day when we went to class. The vast majority of the instructors were very laid back and good teachers. Many of the instructors would ask the SF guys to interject with any comments or experiences that could be useful. For the most part (more to that later), our times in class were largely non-eventful. But then there were the inevitable meals. Three times a day we went to the mess hall where the WOCS ate. I can say with absolute certainty that the entire system there with the “disciplined dining” rules is a pain in your fourth point of contact and served no earthly purpose for creating a better Special Forces Warrant Officer.

What it did do, however, was to create a weight loss program for WOC Steve B. I lost almost 20 pounds at Ft. Rucker. When returning to Ft. Bragg, people asked, “Is Rucker that tough?” No, it isn’t. But I rarely if ever finished a meal there. Because my good buddy Wade invariably got us tossed out of the mess hall. I’m not going to get into all of the details about the WOCS idea of disciplined dining. There were many, perhaps it teaches attention to detail, discipline and a ton of other attributes that make great pilots. I don’t know. I thought it was a load of crap. As for my buddy, he thought it “unseemly for a barrel-chested freedom fighter” to resort to such unmanly ways to eat. He immediately set out to make a statement. As per the norm, I was beside him all the way. Chapple would invent new ways to piss off the cadre in the dining hall every day. And every day we’d get tossed out with a meal, half or less eaten.

Strict silence was imposed, the WOC will not talk during meals. The mess halls were quiet except for the sound of knives and forks on the plates. Welcome to 7th Special Forces Group dining rules as dictated by Wade. He made it his mission to push against the rules every day. And nearly every day we’d get tossed out of the mess hall, for the inevitable push ups outside.

On Day 2 we were eating lunch and across the table, from me, I see that old, devilish grin and know something is about to go down. Wade chugs a glass of milk and then another. Which wasn’t too out of the ordinary as that time of year, late August – early September is hot in Alabama. But then he unleashed the loudest belch possible. It was one of those five seconds, “Revenge of the Nerds” burps that reverberated around the room. All motion stops, all eyes go to our table. Every student at our table is trying their best to stifle laughter save for Wade, who calmly munches a piece of bread. Outside we were invited to go and begin to push Ft. Rucker halfway to China.

It wasn’t long before Bewley and Andrews, our other two SF buds in the squad began getting to the back or front of the line to stay away from the floor show and eat in relative peace. They were in retrospect the smart ones.

Each class had a board in the mess hall with these little hooks like you’d hang your keys on. Each class had a color (ours was Gold), and the board had different categories, Disciplined dining, pig rights and dessert rights. Being the junior class, we were stuck in disciplined dining. At the end of flag detail which they saddled the SF guys with (again more to this later), we finished and arrived at the mess hall about five minutes before the class did marching from the classroom. Wade decided a little celebration was in order. “Hey I think we did a great job on the flag detail and the class should get pig rights. “Pig Rights” was eating like a normal person, slouching back in the chair, talking in low tones but more like a regular mess hall in the Army. Wade walked into the mess hall, walked straight over to the board and moved the Gold class tag to the column under the pig. He then walked outside and smiled….”alrighty then.”

The class arrived and as they entered the mess hall and standing at parade rest while waiting to get a tray, everyone caught sight of the disk dangling from the pig rights hook and thought the cadre were giving us a treat. The class sat and conversed without a care in the world. None the wiser. Our cadre looked over incredulous, everyone in the class was talking. Our TAC’s head snapped to the board and there proudly dangling under the pig was the Gold disk. The other TACs immediately had a huddle and thought the Senior TAC authorized it….nope just the senior SF guy.

The Senior TAC showed up as the class was filing out. A quick conversation ensued and the TAC officers waited until the class was assembled and then commenced to reading the riot act. They wanted to know why the class was using pig rights and the students said because the board said it was so. We all knew who they suspected but the flag detail although first to arrive was the last in the chow line. They stopped short of accusing anyone since no one actually saw the disk moved.

Fast forward about 10 days later, once again the senior NCOs (Read SF guys) get the flag detail in front of the Post Commander’s office. It goes off without a hitch. In fact, the Major General who was the commander of Rucker at that time was a stickler for the flag detail and liked to watch it. After it was over, his aide came out and told us to stand fast the general wanted to speak to us. Needless to say, he was surprised to see all those SF tabs there. His first comment “I thought you SF guys hated doing drill and ceremonies.” He told his aide to send a note to the WOCS that the flag detail on this day was the most professional he saw during his time there.

On the way to the mess hall, Wade thought it was time for another celebration. As we marched over, he jogged ahead to ensure he beat the class there. We turned the corner just as the class was arriving from the class building. A few seconds later Wade appears at my elbow. “It is ice cream time.” We all cracked up. Sure enough, the Gold Class had dessert rights. As everyone filed in they noticed the disk and headed to the soft-serve ice cream machine. Our TACs were livid. And our nemesis, who we nicknamed “Rat Face” made a beeline for our table. “Candidate”, he said looking at me. “Did you give the class dessert rights?” I made the most innocent face I could make up. “How could I do that?” I protested. “I don’t have the authority.” He looked skeptical. “Chapple, did you give the class dessert rights?” “Sir,” he said. “I am aware of no such action or activity…however, if I were, I would not be inclined to discuss it.”

Rat Face looked ready to blow a gasket. Just then the note from the General’s aide arrived…in a nick of time. The CG sent a message to the Senior TAC that we should be rewarded. After marching back to the barracks we stood there for 10 minutes waiting to be dismissed. The TACs finally emerged from their building and said that for the remainder of the class, the Gold Class would not be granted either Pig Rights or Dessert Rights in the mess hall without a TAC officer specifically telling us so. In the battle of psychological operations, don’t mess with the men trained in Unconventional Warfare. Chapple 1 WOC Cadre 0.

In our next segment, we’ll look at the rest of the course…and what a strange trip it was.

Photo Courtesy: DOD