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Special Forces and Entrepreneurship Can Make the Most of Any Bad Situation

“How the hell am I going to fill 1000 sandbags…and how did get myself into this mess?”

Sometimes life throws her curveballs at you and you have to do your best to sit back in the box and hit it the opposite way. And in doing so, you can take a bad situation and definitely make the most out of it.

Back in the day, the Sandinista regime in Nicaragua was a thorn in the side of the United States, especially the White House under President Reagan. And the U.S. was worried that the Sandinistas would be trying to spread their revolution (with outside help) to their neighboring countries.

And it was justified, with on-going bloody civil wars going on in El Salvador and Guatemala, Honduras had a latent insurgency issue and later we learned that the Nicaraguan government was preparing to aid that along.

While U.S. troop strength allowed in El Salvador was severely restricted and very few SOF troops allowed in Guatemala due to political issues, no such issue existed in Honduras at the time. And the U.S. always had a steady stream of conventional and SOF troops there.

Combat engineers were always building and improving roads, there was a slew of medical and dental units there helping the people. The U.S. constructed an airbase (Soto Cano) in Palmerola that is still in use today. And there were always a ton of 7th Special Forces Group troops on the ground. It always seemed like there was at least a company-sized element of six Special Forces A-Teams and a B-Team in the country at any given time. Many SF guys from that era would have half a dozen deployments to “Hondo” alone at that time, never mind deployments elsewhere.

This one deployment our Group decided to run had several teams from 2nd Bn., 7th SFG working with local Honduran units and our commander wanted to run several base station communication sites from the country, instead of back from Ft. Bragg. So, a bunch of SF radio operators (18E) from 1st Bn. were tasked to augment the Group’s Support Bn, and the Signal CO. to work in the base stations during this deployment.

Author and a high-speed, low drag supply vehicle in Honduras back in the day

We were starting one such base station in La Ceiba at the Honduran air base where they based their fighter aircraft (obsolescent Super Mystere) and then moving it after a few weeks up into the mountains, closer to the Nicaraguan border. So, during the time in La Ceiba, these SF radio operators would fall under the command of the Support Bn Staff. It was not a marriage made in heaven.

The sergeant major was… to put it simply a “Rick” with a silent P. He had a “do as I say and not as I do” attitude and was used to bullying the younger support guys…and girls. They had a gazillion rules that the A-Team guys never had to deal with in past deployments and it was soon apparent that heads were going to bump.

He instituted a “pass” system and a curfew with going downtown for everyone, except himself and his cronies. That didn’t fly with the SF guys. “Hey, that doesn’t apply to us, right?” LOL.

Well, after sampling some of the local nightlife in downtown La Ceiba and hanging out with a number of British schoolteachers from Belize, we arrived back at the base well after the established curfew. One of his little cronies made sure to rat us out…the little cockroach. However, we did beat the SGM back. Imagine that.

The next morning, he was going to make a big deal out of it and called us all in and said, we could be restricted to the base from our remainder of the time there (just a few more days thankfully) or fill sandbags for the Honduran base defenses. Most guys said screw it, they’d remain on base. Another guy and I opted for sandbag detail. Anything to get the hell away from those people.

So, we got a driver, a deuce and a half and 1000 sandbags. We told the driver to pack as many shovels as he had, which got a strange look but he grabbed about a dozen. The driver drove us to the far side of the base where there was a pit of clay that was as hard-packed as granite. “This is where our guys have been filling them,” he said. We laughed and told him we weren’t going to spend one minute there. Directing him out the back gate, we headed back down the highway in the opposite direction of town. After passing by some pineapple fields, we told him to take a dirt road to the right. After passing thru more fields and over a tiny bridge, we ended up on this tiny beach with the best bar you’d ever seen there.

On an earlier trip, one of the scuba team guys had shown this place. It had a fantastic place to dive and the bar was open on three sides that emptied right out on the sand. The driver couldn’t believe it. Nursing hangovers we ordered the hair of the dog from the young girl behind the bar while my partner spoke to her quietly in the corner. Then pulling a hammock out of my ruck, I strung it up between two poles on the open part of the bar and reclined with an ice cold Port Royal while my bud nursed a Salva Vida.

“What are you guys doing,” the driver asked? “Well, we’re going to chill out, catch about a 20-minute power nap and wait for the cavalry to arrive,” we said. About the time that the first beer was gone, the cavalry arrived.

Kids from the nearby village came flocking in, thinking the gringos were going scuba diving again and offering the use of their small boats and their services for whatever we needed.

We explained what we wanted to do, and they quickly agreed, we’d give them each two (2) MREs that we weren’t going to eat anyway. The two oldest kids were going to be foremen and oversee the entire operation. We gave them a five-minute class on how to properly fill sandbags. And just like in Selection, on how full they had to be. The two “foremen” would get five bucks each.

After watching this slew of kids quickly filling up the sandbags for a few quick iterations, my bud and I retired back to the cool shadow of the bar and the hammocks. “Yes, I’ll have another beer, thank you very much.”

In less than an hour, we had 250 sandbags filled. They were loaded on the deuce-and-a-half and we sent the driver back with strict orders to use the rear gate and bring back more cases of MREs. And most importantly, not to breathe a word of this to anyone.

Around noon the kids wanted to take a break for lunch. They planned on eating their MREs. We can do better, we said. The girl at the bar had already been forewarned and we arranged chicken sandwiches and a few burgers for all of them. We sat in the shade of the bar and got those kids sodas. Afterward, it time for a dip in the ocean. Punishment details are hell.

By 2 to 2:30 all of our sandbags were full, in truth, we didn’t have 1000, because they’d thought we wouldn’t be able to fill a 1/10th of those. Our driver asked if we should head back. “Hell no,” we answered. It was time for some MTT. He asked what that meant. “Max Tanning Time”, we answered. So until about four, we laid out in the sun, swam a bit more and bought the kids a coke. There were about half again as many MREs as promised and we said the heck with it. We told them to spread those out evenly as well. It was money well spent. We thought about scrawling on the side of the truck, “7th SFG Sand and Gravel”, but thought better or it. We used UW principles to beat the Pogues at their own game.

We headed back with the final load of sandbags, arriving back at the base where we unloaded the last of the sandbags into the huge pile that the guys had made. Our “pal” the sergeant-major strolled up and gave us a sneer like, “I guess I showed you!” and then glanced at the pile and knew something was up. We jumped down from the truck and smiled a “fuck you very much” look and headed for the showers, ice cold water that could wake the dead.

That weekend our C-130 came in to get us thankfully out of there. And not a moment too soon, but not entirely home free. We moved our base station gear to a B-Team that was famously known as “The Plantation”…ask any of the oldtimers what that was all about.

Little did we know that this was just the beginning. But that is a story for another time.

Photo of Golosón International Airport, La Ceiba (1987): Wikipedia

Looking For a Binge-Watching Series on Memorial Day? Look No Further

Memorial Day preparations and programs are all going non-stop this weekend. In our small bucolic town in Central Massachusetts, our schools have all put together very nice programs to honor those members of our country who have paid the ultimate sacrifice. Our high school put together a nice program where the students researched town members who had been killed in World War I, World War II, Korea, Vietnam and the Global War on Terror. They then read a brief bio on each to hit home the high cost of our freedoms.

Our vets from the local Veterans Council, VFW, American Legion, the Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, and Cub Scouts, as well as local citizens, went into our local cemeteries, placed flags on all of the military graves recently. Then we placed wreaths on all of the monuments around town.

Our local Memorial Day ceremonies will kick off at 8:20 today. Once that is over, we’ll partake in the traditional Memorial Day activities by grilling some food outside while giving thanks to those who made this all possible.

One of the other traditional fares on Memorial Day is the War Film marathons that are always on television. We’ve compiled a list of our favorites in the past, however, this year, we’re going to recommend a mini-series to binge watch and if you can last thru the entire thing, it will take some time.

Ken Burns produced some outstanding mini-series on PBS, his one of the Civil War back in 1990 was a classic. He later did one on Baseball in 1994 that was another must watch. But the one we’re recommending everyone dust off on Netflix is his marathon documentary on World War II, simply called ‘The War’.

Burns made this one in 2007 and it took six years of research to put together. Critics panned it because they said he tried to make it sound like the United States won the war alone. That is hogwash, Burns just eschewed the big picture and focused on the regular small town people of four communities and how the war was seen and felt down in Waterbury, Connecticut, Mobile, Alabama, Luverne, Minnesota, and Sacramento, California.

I was out of the country when it first aired and I missed it. It was put on my list of things to see but I never got around to watching it. Recently we saw it on Netflix and binge-watched the entire 15 or so hours over one weekend. And we were glad we did.

At the end of World War II, Eric Sevareid had reported to the people of the United States what he saw during the war years but after the war was over, he felt like he …and others like him failed to bring the true cost of it home. He wrote:

“Only the soldier really lives the war. The journalist does not — war happens inside a man — and that is why, in a certain sense, you and your sons from the war will be forever strangers. If, by the miracles of art and genius, in later years two or three among them can open their hearts and the right words come, then perhaps we shall all know a little of what it was like — and we shall know then that all the present speakers and writers hardly touched the story.”

What Burns showed in this masterpiece of filmmaking was while we all get to know several small-town Americans during the seven episodes, there is nothing ordinary about any of them. This isn’t a glossed over, sanitized version of World War II but a true first-hand look at the ugliness and cost of sending an entire generation off to war.

Burns often shows the brutality and the gruesome nature of how the war was conducted. With some never seen before footage. Troops being starved and beaten on the Bataan Death March, Japanese troops being burned alive by flamethrowers, the awful scope, and brutality of the Nazi death camps.

The remembrances of Quinten Aanonsen, a farmer’s son from Luverne are particularly poignant. He wanted to learn to fly to escape the family farm. He became a pilot of a P-47 Thunderbolt and as a close ground support squadron member, he saw up close what the awesome firepower of “the Jug” could bring on the enemy. He also watched many of his friends die. The girl he met while in flight school and their letters back and forth kept his sanity.

Two of the people who appear in the film have written books and they give a great look at the war in Europe and the Pacific. Paul Fussell was in the infantry fighting the Germans in France and Germany and his book “Doing Battle” was a definite page-turner. E.B Sledge from Mobile wrote the fantastic book, “With the Old Breed.”

“Something in me died at Peleliu,” Sledge wrote. “Possibly I lost faith that politicians in high places who do not have to endure war’s savagery will ever stop blundering and sending others to endure it.”

The film also shares the plight of Japanese-Americans who were uprooted from their homes and ordered to internment camps. Then asked to serve the very country that treated them and their families as the enemy.

The treatment of the blacks both in the war factories and in the military gets spared nothing either. One of the more telling moments was that of a black Marine who was wounded and transported to a hospital ship, the only black man on board. And the ship’s barber refused to cut his hair.

“The War” is marvelously filmed with some outstanding action shots, the personal stories are both riveting and at times both funny and sad. And the narration by Keith David, who did the older Navy recruiting films, is first rate.

Take the time to watch “The War” which Burns brilliantly put together and when you see one of those bent-over WWII vets today, shake his hand and wish him well. After all, “The War” is their story.

Photo of US Pilot Quinten Aanonsen: PBS

“Saving Private Ryan” Re-released for the 75th Anniversary of D-Day

One of the biggest blockbuster war films is being re-released for the 75th anniversary of the D-Day Normandy invasion of France. Steven Spielberg’s classic “Saving Private Ryan” is being brought back in 600 theaters nationwide for just two days, June 2 and June 5 at 3 and 7 p.m. on those days to commemorate the Normandy landings.

It is hard to believe that Spielberg’s masterpiece is turning 21 this year. Released in 1998, the film had an absolutely stellar cast including Tom Hanks, Matt Damon, Tom Sizemore, Barry Pepper, Edward Burns, Giovanni Ribisi, Vin Diesel, and Adam Goldberg. The gritty and graphic filming, especially during the opening minutes showed the ugliness and realism of the awfulness of real combat.

The film begins with the Rangers of the 2nd Battalion coming ashore at Normandy. They were in the worst possible position in any of the beaches, code-named Omaha. The Germans held the high ground on the beaches and had plenty of prepared positions manned by a seasoned, well-trained and led division.

“Ryan’s” opening beach sequence which takes about 28 minutes was brilliantly filmed where the absolute chaos of combat meets up with coherence of the troops trying to complete their assigned missions. This was no sanitized Hollywood version of the invasion. Spielberg spared no details as bodies and body parts were flung in the air from mortar rounds, machine guns ripped bodies to shreds and entrails were strewn about from the German guns.

Spielberg takes the audience out of their seats as just bystanders and puts their asses right in the surf of the Channel. They are instantly transported to 1944 and put right in the action with the infantry. So intense was the filming of this sequence, that many World War II veterans who had been to Normandy for the actual invasion, got symptoms of PTSD from watching the film and triggering memories of their own experiences.

That opening sequence was filmed in Curracloe, Ireland over 15 days and cost over $12 million dollars to film.

Spielberg’s story begins after the Rangers led Hanks and Sizemore survive the opening day of the invasion and get tasked to venture far inland to find a paratrooper (Damon) of the 101st Airborne, who lost all of his brothers in combat and to be sent home. As Hanks’ men die one by one while attempting to find and then rescue Ryan, they’re left wondering if all of that sacrifice for the purpose of saving one man’s life is worth it.

Saving Private Ryan was nominated for 11 Academy Awards and ended up winning five, for Best Director, Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing, Best Sound Editing and Best Sound Mixing. It made $481 million dollars in 1998. In today’s dollars, it would equate to earning nearly $750 million. In 2014, the film was selected for preservation in the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress.

For more information about the re-release and to find out the times and locations for “Saving Private Ryan” is playing on the 2nd and 5th of June, visit the Fathom Events website.

Our only wish is that the re-release would be extended to cover Memorial Day as well.

Photo: Paramount Studio Still

The Last of the Original Frogmen, Bill Dawson Celebrates 94th Birthday

The very last of the original “frogmen”, the forerunners of the Navy SEAL teams was honored on the date of his 94th birthday amid his family, friends, and family members.

Bill Dawson, who grew up in Washington D.C. was working at the D.C. Shipyard in 1943 and enlisted in the U.S. Navy when he was just 17-years old. Not long after enlisting, he found out about a specialized Navy unit that as he put it, “got to blow things up.” After saying he didn’t quite know how to take that tidbit of information, he and another sailor decided to volunteer. But he almost didn’t even get a chance to attempt the training.

As the two reached the building where the volunteers were assembling, they were told that the class was full, they had 500 volunteers. Undeterred, Dawson and his buddy walked around the back of the building, and climbed thru an open window and took their place in the back of the line. The volunteer class, Class 1 of the famous frogmen was now numbered 502.

Their training whittled down the number of volunteers from over 500 to just 52. And the toughness of the “frogman” course would be every bit as tough as the famed BUDS course for the SEALs is today.

The 3-5 mile runs in the sand, climbing over slippery, barnacle-encrusted rocks in the jetty and the log PT was a tough task for the frogmen as they remain that today. “I can still pick the splinters out of my arms today, Dawson joked in an interview he conducted with the American Veterans Center.

The training was so tough, it reduced the 17-year old to tears at times. “I wanted to quit,” he recalled. But he kept going and persevered, the 94-year old joked again that the sand fleas and mosquitoes, that were so plentiful at the frogmen’s training base kept him going.

But he did graduate and take his place among what the Navy termed, Underwater Demolition Teams (UDT), which became commonly known as “frogmen.” They were also called Naval Combat Demolition Units (NCDU) These men were legendary is clearing beach obstacles for the countless amphibious landings the United States conducted in World War II. The casualty rate for the frogmen at Normandy on D-Day was 53 percent.

Dawson took part in several landings in the Pacific helping the military clear landing beaches for infantry troops of the Army and Marines to get ashore and attack enemy installations on the land.

During his birthday celebration last week, Dawson took great pride in being the first group of sailors who became the Navy SEALs of today. “Knowing today what I helped start developed into what it is today. It’s one of the greatest outfits in the world,” he said.

Dawson’s unit cleared the beach for the return of General Douglas MacArthur to the Philippines. “We got ashore before he did,” Dawson remembered with a smile.

Dawson wrote and published in 2015 “Before They Were SEALs They Were Frogs,” a book about his time during World War II on the Navy’s first special operations team.

After the war was over, Dawson joined the Washington D.C. Fire Department and served there for 25 years and then retired, now 45 years ago. Dawson was a founding member of the US Navy SEAL Museum in Fort Pierce, FL, and contributed many of the key exhibits there. Despite his age, Dawson remains active in supporting Naval Special Warfare history and heritage.

Four years ago, when he was 90 years old, Dawson was honored at the BattleFrog Navy SEALs obstacle course race at Old Bridge Township Raceway Park, in Englishtown, NJ.

The American Veterans Center interview was a long one but worth the time to hear the remembrances of a truly unique special warrior. Happy Birthday to the last of the original frogmen, Mr. Dawson

Photo: US Navy

Remembering Pat Tillman, Ranger, NFL Player Died on This Day 2004

The endless Global War on Terror has claimed about 7000 American soldiers lives, mainly in Iraq and Afghanistan and have claimed over 500,000 lives of all the peoples involved since the 9/11 attacks in New York. Arguably one of the most well-known American soldiers to die was Pat Tillman, who gave up a million-dollar NFL career to enlist in the Army. He joined the 2nd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment and fought in Iraq and Afghanistan and was killed there on April 22, 2004.

At the time of his death, he was seen as an American hero who sacrificed all for his country while giving up a very lucrative career, just hitting its peak. Later, his name resurfaced during the controversy over the Colin Kaepernick Nike ads and the practice of many NFL players to kneel during the national anthem. Many tried to point out that Tillman would be against this practice and be a better spokesman for Nike than Kaepernick’s “Be Willing to Risk Everything” campaign. But his widow quickly extinguished those thoughts.

Early Life and College:

Tillman was born in Fremont, California in November 1976. He was the oldest of three sons in a very close-knit family. Tillman would remark later in his journals from Afghanistan that he drew great strength from his family and close friends. He was a standout football player from Leland High School’s State Championship team and parlayed that into the last scholarship offer of the year (1994), from Arizona State University.

Tillman was a standout if undersized linebacker at ASU at just 5’11, 202 pounds but he helped them go undefeated and play in the Rose Bowl after the 1996 season. In 1997, he was Pac-10 Defensive Player of the Year. But as much as he excelled on the football field, he was equally as successful in the classroom. A marketing major, he graduated in just 3.5 years with a 3.65 GPA.

He earned three consecutive selections to the Pac-10 All-Academic Football Team, a 1st team Academic All-American honor, as well as the NCAA’s Post-Graduate Scholarship for academic and athletic excellence. He also earned a B.S. in Marketing, graduating Summa Cum Laude from ASU’s prestigious W.P. Carey School of Business

NFL Career:

In 1998, Tillman was selected by the Arizona Cardinals with the 226th pick in the 7th round of the NFL Draft. Arizona moved him to safety but not many people thought he’d make an impact or last in the NFL. But he not only made the team but became a starter.

In 2000, he set a Cardinals record for tackles in a season with 224. The then St. Louis Rams offered him a contract for 5-years and $9 million dollars but he stayed out of loyalty to the Cardinals. The attacks of 9/11 affected him deeply. The next day he told a reporter, “At times like this you stop and think about just how good we have it, what kind of system we live in, and the freedoms we are allowed. A lot of my family has gone and fought in wars and I really haven’t done a damn thing.”

After the season was over, the Cardinals offered him a three-year, $3.6 million dollar contract to remain. But he had made other plans. In the spring of 2002, Tillman married his long-time girlfriend Marie and after their honeymoon, he told the Cardinals that he was putting his NFL career aside for the next three years to enlist in the Army.

His brother Kevin had been signed to baseball contract with the Cleveland Indians but he too put that on hold and together the two brothers signed up in May 2002.

Military Career and Death:

The brothers enlisted together and completed basic training together at Ft. Benning, GA in September of 2002. They then successfully completed the difficult Ranger Selection and Assessment Program (RASP) and were assigned to the 2nd Ranger Bn. at Ft. Lewis, WA.

The two brothers deployed together on a tour to Iraq in 2003 with the Rangers as part of Operation Iraqi Freedom. While in Iraq, Tillman had strong feelings about why the U.S. was there and although he performed admirably, disagreed with the invasion and thought it was illegal.

After returning from Iraq, the Tillman brothers both attended Ranger School in September of 2003, both graduating on November 28, 2003. After returning to the 2nd Ranger Bn. (Alpha Company, 2nd Plt) they deployed to Afghanistan and were based at FOB Salerno.

Tillman was becoming increasingly anxious to put the military behind him, his journals recall and he questioned the U.S. motives behind our actions in the region. He began to consider leaving as soon as his enlistment was up. The NFL had moved on, but he knew he could return to Arizona.

In the last conversation Tillman had with his agent, “he said, “you won’t believe the letter I got from Bill Belichick.” In the letter, Belichick, the coach of the New England Patriots, praised him for his courage, his leadership, his willingness to set an example for people in this materialistic society, and he said it was an honor to be in the same league he’d been in. Belichick closed the letter by telling Tillman that if he ever needed a job when he was released by the Army to give him a call. That was never to be.

On April 22, 2004, the Rangers were conducting an operation 40 km southwest of Khost along the Pakistani border when one of the units came under fire, just after the sun was setting. In the increasing darkness, Tillman and one element, with an Afghan soldier tried to come to the aid of fellow Rangers who had come under attack. As Tillman moved along the ridgeline to support the troops under fire, fellow Rangers, seeing “shadowy figures” on the ridge incorrectly identified them as enemy combatants and opened fire.

Tillman and an Afghan soldier were killed. His Platoon commander and his RTO were wounded. It was initially thought to be enemy fire that killed Tillman and the Afghan allied soldier. It wasn’t until after Tillman’s burial did the truth emerge that friendly fire was the cause of his death.

Army CID conducted an investigation and ruled in 2007 what the Rangers had known soon after the horrible mistake was made. That Tillman had been killed by friendly fire. Their report states the facts here:

…during their movement through the canyon road, Serial 2 [Tillman’s platoon had to split up because of a broken Humvee; the parts were called Serial 1 and 2] was ambushed and became engaged in a running gun battle with enemy combatants. Serial 1 [Tillman’s portion of the platoon] had just passed through the same canyon without incident and were approximately one kilometer ahead of Serial 2. Upon hearing explosions, gunfire, and sporadic radio communication from Serial 2, Serial 1 dismounted their vehicles and moved on foot, to a more advantageous position to provide overwatch and fire support for Serial 2’s movement out of the ambush. Upon exiting the gorge, and despite attempts by Serial 1 to signal a “friendly position”, occupants of the lead vehicle of Serial 2 opened fire on Tillman’s position, where he was fatally shot.

Steven Elliot, the Ranger machine gunner who probably fired the shots that killed Tillman gave an interview a few years ago that detailed what happened.

“The events leading up to one of the most infamous friendly-fire deaths in U.S. military history were rife for second-guessing from the start: After an Army Humvee broke down in the mountains, Tillman’s platoon was ordered divided by superiors so that the Humvee could be removed; a local truck driver was hired as the hauler. But the two groups struggled to communicate with each other as they traversed the steep terrain. And the second group soon became caught in a deafening ambush, receiving fire as it maneuvered down a narrow, rocky canyon trail.”
“Tillman’s group, which had traveled ahead, scaled a ridgeline to provide assistance to fellow Rangers under attack. But a squad leader, Sgt. Greg Baker, in Elliott’s armored vehicle misidentified an allied Afghan soldier positioned next to Tillman as the enemy and opened fire, killing the Afghan and prompting Elliott and two other Rangers to fire upon what Elliott called shadowy images, later learned to have been Tillman and then-19-year-old Bryan O’Neal.”

Several Rangers were kicked out of the Battalion for their actions after the friendly fire incident. Tillman’s body armor and uniform were burned to conceal the friendly fire that killed him as well as his journal which contained several anti-war sentiments.

Tillman’s family was incensed (and rightfully so) for portraying his death as a heroic public relations stunt and not identifying it for what it truly was.

His family and his wife carried on his legacy of service by creating the Pat Tillman Foundation in 2008, whose mission is to support active-duty service members, veterans and their spouses with academic scholarships, a national network, and professional development opportunities for their lives after military service.

He was posthumously awarded a Silver Star, the Purple Heart and laterally promoted from Specialist 4 to Corporal.

His remains were cremated and his ashes scattered at sea.

Arizona State University dedicated a statue of Tillman outside of Sun Devil Stadium.

Photos: Pat Tillman Foundation

“I Can Put That Range Fire Out…” Tales of the Green Beret

It is amazing sometimes to think back on some of the good funny, ridiculous, and at times unbelievable stories from your time under a Green Beret. And as always, SF stories like fishing tales, as you grow older, get better with age.

Now I am not saying that any of these stories are BS, but let’s just say, that time is a wonderful thing. The passage of time makes the fish bigger, the girls prettier, and the stories so much better. ‘Nuff’ said.

So, just a few months ago, I was on the phone with Danny C. my old A-Team leader from way, way back in the day. When I say way back, that isn’t an exaggeration. Danny was an outstanding officer, a great Team Leader, and an even better man. During a deployment to Honduras during the 80s….(I told you it was way back), Danny was injured during our deployment and would be forced to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

But that has never stopped him from living a very active lifestyle, Danny’s gone skiing at Aspen, skydiving and 100 other things that I never find the time to do anymore. We were talking on the phone that night, Danny had just sent me a gift in the mail and he was making sure I got it.

We began to talk about that last deployment before he got hurt and some of the stuff that went down and some of the fun we had training with the Honduran Infantry guys and then later the Airborne Battalion located at Tamara, in the mountains.

The drop zone was right next to the highway and due to the prevailing winds, our Chinooks would drop us on the other side of the highway and you’d drift perfectly right over the DZ. Which always made drivers on the highway nervous to see paratroopers drifting across the road before hitting the hard ground of the DZ.

We spoke about the classified but very low-tech project we were working on with Pack Animals and other interesting tidbits that made us fondly remember the days of yore. But that got my own mind going and after I hung up I remembered another funny story from that deployment.

We had moved further up in the mountains with 6th Infantry Battalion (Centaurs) at Ojo de Agua. They were located in the mountains and had a large base for the Contras at the time. There were enough GP Medium tents where a battalion could refit and rest there.

They also had a large shooting range built on several of the rolling hills on the base. We were doing a range day with our Honduran counterparts using M-60 and M249 (SAW) machineguns. When we had first arrived the weather had been cold, raw and rainy. But about a week later, it had dried out and was hot and sticky. And a stiff wind had dried everything out to where it was like tinder.

We were high up on a hill shooting at targets located about 300-400 meters away. The Honduran kids, not used to having this much ammo were having a ball, blazing away at the silhouettes with reckless abandon. Those “6-to-9” round bursts we discussed in training were quickly forgotten.

Giving the pack animals a drink while crossing a river, Central America in the mid-1980s.

One of the tracer rounds from the SAW started a range fire on top of the hill. Our Hondo allies had a pickup truck, an old beat-up piece of junk that looked like it would fall apart at any minute, loaded with soldiers who raced down there and quickly put the fire out.

After lunch, we had a second group of guys firing, their mortar section, who were beginning to get the U.S. 60mm mortars. We did some crew training with them and their crew drills were pretty good. They had a few old Soviet 82mm mortars, from god knows where. They looked like antiques. Firing those looked like an iffy proposition. They used US 81mm mortar rounds, which we didn’t have any.

I never fired a US round thru that Soviet system (I started as a heavy weapons guy), but one of our other guys had. He said it was a weird sound when dropping the round. Instead of that metallic sliding, sucking sound, it was a click, clickety-click, sound as the slightly smaller American round would ever so slightly bounce down the tube. Although you could fire those, Luis A. said, they weren’t the most accurate…no kidding.

So, after doing some crew drill on the 60mm M224 mortar, the mortar guys got their turn on the machine guns. After a few moments, one tracer round hit in front of one target and bounced backward about 10-20 meters and started a small fire in the grass. It was burning in a small neat circle.

Danny was reaching for the radio to tell the Hondos in the beat-up truck to put out the fire when one of the other guys spoke up. “I can put that range fire out, sir,” Bruce P. said. Bruce was a big, huge guy who was loaned to us from the 2nd Ranger Bn. for this deployment. He was also the Weapons Plt. Sgt. in the Batt.

The Hondurans were in awe of his size, he was easily double their diminutive height and scared shitless of him. Bruce had a very typical Ranger haircut, where he was buzzed on the sides. In the Honduran army, they only did that to the criminals, “ Los Castigados” in their terminology.

He grabbed the smaller M8 baseplate for the 60mm mortar, he put a round in the tube and lined up his range estimation. Giving himself a bit of windage, he pulled the trigger and we all waited a few seconds for the round to go down range. Bruce grabbed another round and was preparing to fire again when the mortar landed with that flat sounding explosion. It landed squarely on the fire, which was no more than 3-4 meters wide at that point.

The results were electric. The Americans whooped, “Good shot bro,” while the Honduran mortar section sat there dumbstruck with their mouth’s literally wide open. It was a shot in a million. “Holy shit,” Bruce said to Danny. “I’ve never hit one on the first shot before.” Castillo laughed.

Look at them,” he said. “They are going to kneel and ask you to bring to bring back the sun any minute.” We all cracked up. The Hondos sat there mesmerized for a few more seconds. “Hijo de puta! Their Lieutenant yelled. He turned with a big grin and began to bark at his troops. We all cracked up. Bruce who at that time, had a very limited Spanish vocabulary, asked Danny what they said.

“Basically, he is telling them that until they can learn to shoot like that, he’s going to shave all their heads.”

Bruce again tried to tell us that he’d never hit anything like that on the first shot. Danny told him to act as he did it all the time. Bruce played along and set down the tube and told the Hondos, “Eso fue fácil” (that was easy), after asking Danny how to say it. Again, they stopped to gawk at the blown out fire down below.

After that, every time Bruce walked thru the compound, the Honduran kids would salute him like he was a field grade officer. Not long after we returned from that deployment, Bruce joined SF and went thru the SFQC as an 18E and later became an officer…and a very good one.

Just another great day in the 7th SFG.

Photos of Honduran Anti-Tank Company and Pack Animal training: Author,

USASOC Takes Top Honors in 2019 Sniper Competition

Two sniper teams from the U.S. Army Special Operations Command (USASOC) took home the top honors in the 10th Annual USASOC International Sniper Competition.

This year’s event had 21 teams from allied countries around the world, shooting, moving and communicating thru a series of intense events that were intended to simulate combat as closely as possible and push the competitors’ tactical sniper skills to the max.

The two USASOC teams won the top two honors while a Marine Corps team finished in third place.

Every year the Sniper Competition changes slightly as instructors from the US Army JFK Special Warfare Center Sniper Committee designs the events to challenge the two-man sniper teams in their ability to work together as a team and test their speed and accuracy in various types of environments, with the stresses of combat added in.

.“This year we wanted to focus on bringing guys in who may shoot competitively on the side but the core tasks would revolve around a real-world application,” said Master Sgt. Josh, a Special Forces Sniper Course instructor identified only by his first name and rank for security reasons.

Snipers engage targets while wearing night vision.

“We used sounds, artillery simulators, and bunkers to induce chaos and make them think through things.”

Teams competed with sniper systems of 7.62 and 5.56mm, carbines and pistols of various calibers. Several of the sniper rifle systems used in the competition are owned by the soldiers.

The competition was held at Ft. Bragg, NC where it was started back in 2009 by the JFK Special Warfare Center and School’s Sniper Committee, which hosted the competition. The school’s sniper course is used by all of Army Special Operations, including Special Forces and Rangers.

Teams were representing the following units:

USASOC

1st, 3rd, 7th, 10th, 19th, and 20th Special Forces Group (Airborne)

2nd Marine Raider Battalion, U.S. Marine Corps

Marine Corps Special Operations Forces Advanced Sniper Course

Marine Corps Scout Sniper

Naval Special Warfare

Unites States Coast Guard

1st Premier Regiment de Parachutistes d’Infanterie de Marine, France

Kommando Spezialkräfte, Germany

Army Ranger Wing, Ireland

9th Paratroopers Assault Regiment, Italy

International Special Training Center

The winners:

1st place: USASOC

2nd place: USASOC

3rd place: Marine Corps Scout Sniper

The competition was more than just accuracy and distance shooting, but being able to conduct a series of timed challenges that were constructed to mirror real-world missions as well as stress the relationships and communication skills of competitors. One event had the shooter encounter targets with one hand, cuffed behind his back.

A sniper engages targets with a hand, cuffed to his kit

“When guys get put on the clock they go faster. There’s more pressure,” said a Special Forces Sniper Course instructor with the U.S. Army John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and School in an interview with the Fayetteville Observer last year. “You have plenty of time to build a durable and steady position. But they rush it and then they start missing.”

“Guys do better when they’re laughing and joking,” the instructor said.

At last year’s event, sniper teams had to move from one firing location to another, engaging targets 12×16 inches in size, 600 meters away while being timed. They had six minutes to engage as many targets as possible.

As the spotter picked out targets, he also relayed to the shooter how to adjust his shots. The shooter would have to pick up the targets while in the prone position while peering thru the reticle of his rifle.

The teams would be taken to a range that required that they navigate around or over numerous obstacles, buildings, and mock vehicles. Each of the targets was marked by a symbol and a color denoting the type of weapon that should be used — pistol, carbine or sniper rifle.

In another event to test the communication and teamwork of the sniper team, the troops would be placed on a raised platform with several different levels that recreate the top of a building. There, the shooter nor the spotter could not see every target from a single position. So, they had to split up to guide each other to a position where they could engage their targets. Added into the equation was that before the event, an instructor would be shown a card by the instructors. They then had to find that symbol in the target area and engage it with the appropriate weapon. That event was designed to get the teams to hurry and distracted, moving faster than they needed to. If a team engaged the wrong target, points were deducted from their overall score.

The old saying “slow is smooth and smooth is fast” was apt at that event. The teams that slowed down and identified the targets were the ones who fared the best.

There was also a physical challenge event. Designed to test the team while carrying a typical combat load, moving and shooting. The team had to run uphill with a 90-pound kettlebell. They would then take turns firing at targets before moving on with their kettlebell a to the next position.

The competition included day and night shooting and would change from open areas to an urban environment. All of which special operators will encounter in any operation in today’s mission environment.

Congratulations to the USASOC teams and all of those who participated.

Photos: DVIDS

Remembering Sterling Hayden, Actor, OSS Operative

Today is the birthday of Sterling Hayden, he would have been 103 years old today. Most people when they hear his name think of the crooked cop, Captain McCloskey in “The Godfather”. Working with a rival faction of Mafiosi, Hayden met his end when Michael Corleone shot him in a restaurant. He was also outstanding as Colonel Jack D. Ripper in Stanley Kubrick’s “Dr. Strangelove” which is a classic.

But before those roles, Hayden was an operative in the OSS (Office of Strategic Services), during World War II. OSS was the forerunner of the modern-day CIA and the U.S. Army Special Forces (Green Berets). He completed two overseas deployments working with Partisans in Italy and Yugoslavia.

Early Life:

Hayden was born in Montclair, NJ on March 26, 1916. His father died when he was just nine and his mother remarried. His stepfather, moved the family around the East Coast trying to stay one step ahead of his creditors.

By the time Hayden was 16, he quit school for good. He went to see and quickly learned the hard lessons of sailing. By the time he was just 22, he’d earned his master’s license, and was given the command of a square rigger, the Florence C. Robinson, which he sailed from Gloucester, Massachusetts to Tahiti.

He spoke about his voyage to the Adventurer’s Club of New York and some of the pictures of this young sea captain taken at a race in Gloucester, were published and Hollywood immediately came calling. They offered the young captain a seven-year contract paying him $250 a week, no small amount in those days.

He had made a couple of films and then once the United States entered WWII, he enlisted in the Army.

WWII Service:

Hayden joined the Army and was assigned to the O.S.S. General Donovan sent him to Commando training in Scotland. After completing a course there, he moved on to parachute training, also with the Brits. On his tenth and final jump, Hayden shattered his ankle and injured his back. His injuries were thought to be serious enough to be separated from the service. The Army discharged him and he went back to sailing ships for a short time. But that wasn’t the end of his service.

As soon as he was healed up, Hayden enlisted in the Marine Corps, using a pseudonym, John Hamilton. There, while excelling in boot camp he was selected for Officer’s Candidate School. After his commissioning, General Donovan somehow found out who 2LT Hamilton really was and had him assigned back to OSS. After lounging around Cairo waiting for an assignment, he was sent to Bari, Italy.

OSS had set up a smuggling operation using ships to provide food, weapons and other support to partisans fighting in Yugoslavia. Hayden, never one to mince words, described that operation as the first time he’d met OSS operatives who were actually doing a job. But the British Navy was hampering operations, something the Americans felt the British were trying to ensure they failed.

After being forced to move their operation further down the coast at Monopoli, the American commander was called to Cairo. Hayden/Hamilton went to Yugoslavia in his place, his motor quit and he paddled back to the mainland. He hooked up with Tito’s Communist partisans.

Hayden recalled “We hooked up with about thirty of the toughest bastards on earth. None of them had had a bath in years. All had been in the thick of the fighting and marching all up and down Bosnia and Croatia. They would only take one cigarette at a time, which they passed around in circles.”

The year he spent with Tito’s men left an indelible mark on him. “the crews of planes would leave their shoes, anything they could spare, with the Partisans . . . We knew they were Communists, we knew they had commissars, but there was very little discussion of that.”

Hayden was involved in several close calls during combat operations where one evaluation report said that he had a “reckless disregard of his own life.” His men were attacked by Stuka dive-bombers, he captured a German E-boat, their version of the American PT boats, they were ambushed by the Germans where his jeep driver was shot. He arranged for a rescue of 26 downed American airmen, including 11 nurses who were forced down in German-held Albania by engine trouble.

He was awarded the Silver Star and the Bronze Arrowhead for parachuting into Yugoslavia. He received a commendation from Tito who also awarded him an Order of Merit. His affinity for Tito’s men and fighting beside them made him briefly join the American Communist Party.

House Un-American Activities Committee Testimony:

Hayden’s brief fling with the Communist Party got him on the radar with the FBI and J.Edgar Hoover. After the Communist unions in Hollywood tried to take over the remaining ones, the Red Scare took place in Hollywood and Washington.

He was called to testify and the FBI threatened him with losing his children and even jail time if he didn’t cooperate. Hayden “named names” and later would regret having cooperated. In his autobiography, he wrote:

“I don’t think you have the foggiest notion of the contempt I have had for myself since the day I did that thing.”

He maintained a very lucrative career as a “B” action movie star but he never liked being in the films and did so only enough to finance his seagoing adventures. He considered himself more of a sailor or writer rather than an actor.

Sydney Pollack, the film director put a mention of Hayden and his OSS service in one of his films. In his film “Three Days of the Condor” (1975), two veteran CIA officers were reminiscing about their past exploits. Higgins (Cliff Robertson) asked Mr. Wabash, (played by John Houseman) “You served with Col. Donovan in the OSS, didn’t you, sir?” Wabash replies, “I sailed the Adriatic with a movie star at the helm. It doesn’t seem like much of a war now, but it was.”

Hayden died of prostate cancer in Sausalito, California in 1986, he was 70.

In our own favorite film role, as Colonel Jack D. Ripper, here he tells Peter Sellers (who played three roles) about why he launched a nuclear attack on the Soviets.

Silver Star Citation:

The President of the United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress July 9, 1918, takes pleasure in presenting the Silver Star (Army Award) to Captain John Hamilton (AKA: Sterling Hayden) (MCSN: 0-22085), United States Marine Corps, for gallantry in action while serving with the Office of Strategic Services in the Mediterranean Theater of Operations from 24 December 1943 to 2 January 1944. Captain Hamilton displayed great courage in making hazardous sea voyage in enemy-infested waters and reconnaissance’s through enemy-held areas. His conduct reflected great credit upon himself and the United States Armed Forces. General Orders: Headquarters, Mediterranean Theater of Operations, General Orders No. 145 (July 31, 1946)

Photos: OSS Archives/IMDB

On St. Patrick’s Day, Get Your Alibis Straight … And Don’t Be on Camera

Ah, St. Patrick’s Day, a day for the celebration of all things Irish, “What’s the craic laddie?” even for those of us who aren’t from there…I used to tell my neighbors from Ireland that my family was from the southern part of Ireland…Sicily.

And there is arguably no place better to spend St. Patrick’s Day in the United States than in Savannah, “the Hostess City of the South.” Savannah is a great place any time of the year, but for St. Patrick’s Day, there is arguably no better place to be. They host one of the largest parades anywhere with at times as many as 300 marching bands, Clydesdale horses and of course the military.

One of the time-honored traditions has been women wearing bright red lipstick rushing out and kissing a Ranger from the 1st Bn as they march past. It wouldn’t uncommon for a baby faced Ranger to have a face full of lipstick by parade’s end. But the Army has no sense of humor and they have asked security people to prevent the women from kissing soldiers in the parade.

Back in the day, when I was in the 7th Special Forces Group, we used to do a big exercise with the Ranger Regiment at Hunter Army Airfield regularly right there in Savannah. We were working out of Saber Hall in a “working isolation” planning the missions, prior to our exercise while the Rangers from the 3rd Battalion were busy practicing their airfield seizures both day and night.

Cold Beer on the Drop Zone? You Betcha:

The trip down there was always an event. Once we flew down in a tanker and got to watch an in-flight refueling of F-16s that look like their coming right in the rear of the aircraft. But for this particular trip, we left Ft. Bragg early on a Saturday morning. While nearly everyone would be airlanded at Hunter, we’d have six people jump into Ft. Stewart so the Air Force would pick up the tab for the plane.

Conditions were perfect, six of us jumped out and we had two vans on the drop zone who whisked out to pick us up right beside the turn-in area, where we landed. We must have had a spot-on jumpmaster (wink). But the best part was, no sooner than you rolled up your chute, the van was there and two young guys, truck drivers from the 7th SFG Support Battalion, grabbed it, and threw it in the van. Then another guy handed you a cold beer and into the van we’d go. We cleared the drop zone in record time.

The best part was there was an Engineer unit from Ft. Stewart waiting to use the DZ for some road grading stuff once we cleared it. Having witnessed many drops I’m sure, they weren’t expecting to see a C-141 drop just six guys and have them get picked up with cold beer right at the landing spot. If all jumps were just like that, my how recruitment would have soared…

An Uneventful St. Patrick’s Day …Until:

Being in working isolation meant that during our time at Hunter AAF, we were able to partake in some of the wonderful nightlife that Savannah has to offer and a good time was had by all. My buddy Tim H. was a platoon sergeant in 1st Bn and after going over and meeting him and some of the guys who worked for him, they informed me of all the good places to go. We ran into some of them later, all great dudes.

Another good bud, Bob F. was a platoon sergeant in the 3rd Ranger Bn. the guys we were working with. They were locked down in tents at Saber Hall, but I made sure that I’d make a pogey run for his boys.

Anyway, St. Patrick’s Day arrives and despite our train up for the exercise, we were excited to partake in fine Irish revelry. I had the duty at Saber Hall that night until 11. There were two of us, a good guy Bill and myself were stuck until 11 but figured there would still be plenty of good times still to be had by then. Our relief, who we’ll call SSG A and SSG J. who was a Support Bn NCO were both with a group of guys who were renting a car, heading down to the beach and then back in Savannah before relieving us.

The day was boring, nothing was really going on, the commander basically shut everything down because of St. Patrick’s Day and was allowing as many guys out as possible. So we made busy work, watched local television and tried to stay awake.

Our Support Bn. had a mess section there and they would make a bunch of hamburgers and hotdogs around 8-9 p.m. for the guys working in isolation to give them an evening snack. They made the usual amount but since no one was really there, most were going to waste. So I asked the mess sergeant for a bunch of buns and he and I made a slew of burgers and dogs and wrapped them in tin foil but my buddy Bob’s Rangers. Fresh off a practice airfield seizure, they attacked those with reckless abandon. They were appreciative, but their company commander was not. He gave me a double ration of shit for interfering with his training…” yeah, yeah, Okay…we’ll never do it again.”

So as the clock is winding down, Bill and I are deciding where we want to go first. It is about 10:30 and we’re waiting for our two guys to be waltzing in at any minute and getting ready to take over. The old man joined us and we put the local news on and of course everything was about St. Patrick’s Day.

Bill and I are looking at each other, not saying a thing, but now we know we’re fucked. Because it is 11 and there is no sign of anyone. The old man turned to us and asked, “Hey aren’t guys supposed to be gone by now?” Not wanting to throw the other guys under the bus, we said that we were, but believed that they’d be along any minute.

The end of the newscast was just before 11:30 and the host said, “We’re going to go live down on River St. with Amy who is taking all of this in.” And they cut to a live shot of absolute chaos with this young woman yelling to be heard over the raucous partying going on…. And they showed two drunk guys, cavorting, dancing and making faces at the camera, right behind “Amy”.

“Isn’t that SSG A. and SSG J.” the old man asked? He started laughing, “Those two are going to have big heads in the morning,” he added. We just nodded, not saying a word. Then reality hit, the old man walked over to the duty sheet and looked at who was supposed to be our relief and came back and sat down.

“Well, let’s have some coffee and wait for them together,” he said. Uh oh… the old man wasn’t happy about that. So we sat and waited… and waited. Finally just before 2 a.m. a rental car full of inebriated 7th SFG guys, whips in the parking lot. Thankfully they had a designated driver, I say thankfully because they were an unsteady lot. When you’ve been drinking all day, you only THINK you’re being quiet as they made their way back to the area.

Here come our two guys, our relief, only about three hours late. When they saw the commander sitting with us they had a “go to Jesus” moment. You had to hand it to the old man, he was cool as a cucumber. “Hey guys, what happened, why are you so late?”

They had this elaborate BS story about driving the rental car on the beach at dusk and getting stuck and spending all night trying to dig it out. It was an awful story as BS stories go but at least they had their details down. The old man was sympathetic and asking all the questions and giving them the impression that he was feeling sorry for them.

When they were finished, he said, “Guys get changed and into uniform and don’t worry about it, those things can happen to anyone… but I have one more question.”

“It was going great and I believed your story 100 percent until I watched you both dancing on River St. and mugging for the t.v. cameras. So, don’t you think if you’re going to elaborate lengths to BS, everyone, you should make sure the next time, you DON’T allow yourselves to get filmed on television?…just asking.”

SSG J. looked at him and said, “Ah …sir, we…. Well I… Shit sir, we fucked up.”

The old man looked at them and said was mad that they screwed us out of having a little bit of fun that he worked into our schedule but more than that, he expected much better from them by not showing up on time and ready to work, which to him was inexcusable. With a wave of dismissal, he told them to get dressed. As they hurried off, the old man turned to us and apologized for us having to stay well beyond our time, like it was his fault. He put on another pot of coffee and told us to take off, he was going to stay with them the rest of the night and make sure that neither one got a minute of sleep until the morning shift came on.

He wasn’t going to hammer them, they were both good guys who just screwed up royally. That’s why he was such a good commander, he could have put the screws to them, which would have easily been within his rights to do so. But he was such a respected officer, just by him telling them he was disappointed in them, hit them much harder than any punishment would have.

Although we were pretty pissed at the time, we quickly got over it but ensured we reminded them of them mugging on television whenever it suited our purpose. In today’s world of Facebook Live, Instagram and whatever else, that crap would have been everywhere. But the lesson remains, everyone will screw up at one time or another. Just don’t be on camera.

“St. Patrick… one of the few saints whose feast day presents the opportunity to get determinedly whacked and make a fool of oneself all under the guise of acting Irish.” – Charles M. Madigan

Photo: Savannah River St. on St. Patrick’s Day – YouTube.com

AFRICOM Video Shows The Adventure of Conducting Airborne Operations

If you haven’t seen the video yet, during the recent “Operation Flintlock” United States Special Operations Forces conducted an airborne operation with unnamed host nation forces. The video highlights the level of training or lack thereof of some Third World nation’s airborne forces.

Ask anyone from our Special Operations Forces who have conducted airborne operations in some forlorn country where the paratroopers are supposedly “well-trained” and you will no doubt hear some good stories.

In this particular video during “Flintlock 2019”, the host nation troops were conducting a tailgate jump, which as any SF guy will tell you is the best jump out of any aircraft. Flintlock 2019 ran for a few weeks from mid-February to March 1, took place in Burkina Faso and Mauritania. More than 2,000 troops from 34 Western and African countries participated, including SOF units from the United States, Spain, Canada, Belgium, and Germany,

Judging from the video, either these troops have never conducted a tailgate jump or were totally freaked out at the aspect of the open back end of the aircraft yawing at them like a giant beast.

The first jumper reverts to his initial training which is geared toward jumping out of the door. He turns his body nearly 90 degrees and conducts a nearly perfect door exit, which no doubt resulted in the jumper having twists galore in his canopy.

Then one aspiring skydiver decides to launch himself out the rear of the aircraft HALO style…ouch. But the best one, and one we can all recall seeing at one time or another occurred when one intrepid paratrooper rushed to the tailgate, got cold feet and promptly sat down. Then, realizing that he had to go, he scooted on his butt and eventually, and thankfully, slid off the tailgate…Airborne all the way!

The video can be seen below:

This brought back some poignant memories of a trip to Paraguay back in the day with my team from 3/7 Special Forces. We conducted several airborne operations both with the Paraguayan SF troops we were training and some others with the host nation’s Airborne Brigade which was located in the capital city of Asuncion. The airborne brigade would use the same national airport as civilian air traffic and we’d load up using gates right beside planes readying for international flights.

Imagine waiting to board your plane heading to …wherever and looking out the terminal windows and seeing a bunch of C-130s and troops in camouflage uniforms donning parachutes. Even more so, when those troops could walk right into the terminal to use the facilities prior to jumping or get coffee from the vendors?

One particular morning our senior medic and I saw a huge commotion in the terminal and when we went to investigate, we ran smack into the television star Xuxa, who was famous at the time for having a kid’s show. That is a story for another time.

And we published the blackmail story of our Air Force CCT brothers who filmed me acting as a primary jumpmaster wearing cowboy boots, jeans, and a leather motorcycle jacket during the deployment here:

But on an earlier jump, the Air Force CCT were making a joint airborne operation with their airborne brigade counterparts. They had their portion of the jump covered, but the Paraguayans wanted to take advantage of the American C-130s there and jump some extra aircraft. The pilots, some great guys from the West Virginia Air National Guard, didn’t feel safe having host nation jumpmasters on their aircraft, so rather than break up the CCT guys from their own training, they asked if we’d support it. No worries, we had a slew of jumpmaster qualified guys on the team.

The first two planeloads of paratroopers and CCT guys were the more experienced members of the brigade. The final two aircraft, ones that the SF guys were going to jumpmaster were younger members of the brigade and who were making their cherry blast. A cherry blast for those uninitiated consists of a jumper’s first jump with the unit after his airborne training has been completed.

They were a nervous lot. Our pilot a Colonel from the Guard and Delta Airlines was a great guy. He made it clear that once we were over the drop zone, the aircraft and the jumpers were all ours, with one stipulation. “Chief, in the event of a jump refusal, I don’t want anyone thrown from the aircraft. The last thing we need is a towed jumper.” I concurred and promised him that we would not do that.

The drop zone (DZ) at the Army base was right in Asuncion, so the racetrack that the C-130s would fly after going over the DZ would take you right by some really high buildings, some of which were six or more stories tall. Seeing those buildings after the passes were completed both was a very cool sight, as I can’t remember hanging out of a door and seeing semi-skyscrapers…ever and struck home that the red light definitely meant stop.

During our pre-jump, we made that and our safety instructions quite clear. We did our JMPI (Jumpmaster Personnel Inspection) and the Paraguayans boarded the aircraft. Their nervousness increased. As our C-130s taxied to take our place in the waiting line for takeoff from the national airport, we began to don our own equipment. The Air Force loadmaster came up to me, “these kids looked scared shitless. Do you think they’ll jump,” he asked? We laughed, “wait until you open the doors,” I said. “Then the pucker factor will really show.”

After takeoff, we reached cruising altitude and we got the first pass up and did our jump commands, when the loadmaster opened the door, about 50 sets of eyes got the size of pie plates….here we go.

The first pass of jumpers went off without a hitch, they included the cadre members for the new recruits. One lieutenant gave me a wink and said, he wished we came down there more often, so they could jump more. I gave him a smile and thumped him on the shoulder to try to show the kids that this was just a walk in the park.

The second pass was another story. We made our racetrack over the city and we lined up on the DZ, as I came in from my last door check, the green light came on….”Go, go, go.” The first four jumpers went out the door…semi-professionally but not too bad, but our number five jumper was a charm.

He froze in the door, wouldn’t jump and then half in the door and half out the door, he slid down the frame until he was in a sitting position with his face plastered against the trailing edge of the door, with one leg out and one leg in.

Over the roar of the engines and wind rushing in, I could hear the loadmaster, yell, “Jesus Christ!” and was immediately on the intercom to the pilots. The #5 and #6 jumpers attempted to push past their guy sitting in the door, but I pushed them back. We got them back and attempted to haul in the kid in the door. He wasn’t having any of it.

“No, no, no!” he screamed, believing I was going to throw him out the door. As much as I tried to tell him that we weren’t going to do that, he held on tighter. We were now way off the drop zone, still flying straight and slow and over the buildings of Asuncion. There was no way he was going out then.

The loadmaster was yelling in my ear, “Chief, we have to shut the door!” I nodded. So what’s a guy to do? Using the fingertips of my left hand, I forced the kids head backward, tilting his old-style US steel pot as far as it would go. With all the force I could muster I punched in the face with my right. He let go with one hand to grab his face and that’s when the loadmaster and myself picked him up and threw him into the seat on the inboard side of the aircraft. We strapped him in. The door was closed as soon as we could bring the deployment bags in and we made a really tight turn to get back on our track.

The kid was claiming he hurt his ankle, which was why he didn’t jump, total BS, but we went along with the charade and told him to relax and he’d be fine. But we had the rest of the jumpers to go, the pilot wanted to know if we should continue and I said we’d be fine.

We reorganized our passes to get the rest of the 2nd pass out and I saw an officer amongst them and moved him to the front. We tried to quickly allay their fears and that everything was going to be okay. The kid who was the #6 jumper said something I couldn’t hear, and I still couldn’t hear him. The Paraguayan lieutenant said, “he said, he’s not afraid to jump, he just doesn’t want you punching in the fucking face.”

I asked the LT to arrange to send an ambulance over to the airport once we finished the last three passes and take care of the kid with the “hurt” ankle as soon as he hit the ground.

During the next pass of jumpers, their exits would have made the Blackhats at Ft. Benning proud….almost. But we got the last of the guys out without further ado. We got all of the deployment bags in and bagged up and once we taxied to our spot at the airport, the ambulance was already pulling up to the tarmac for our “injured” trooper. He was playing it up like he had a compound fracture, but it is what it is.

The pilot, as we retold the story was relieved and laughed…after the fact. He told me that he’ll have nightmares of that kid falling out with skyscrapers all around. I hastily hooked a ride with the ambulance guys over to the DZ which was part of the base.

The Airborne Brigade commander was there and was aware of what happened. I quickly went over and apologized for hitting one of his troops, which can be a very touchy subject regardless of the circumstances. He was fine with how it played out, having already heard the story from his own lieutenant. He put his arm around me and told me he would have done the same thing that the kid’s safety was more important than his hurt feelings. We were good.

We did jumpmaster a mass tactical exercise later during the deployment. The Brigade Commander was the #1 jumper on my aircraft. As we were getting ready to put them out the door, he winked at me and covered his eye with his free hand as if to say, “don’t punch me, I’m going!” We laughed.

The Air Force CCT guys later told me the kid who froze in the door was given another chance and got over his fear and made his cherry blast…Good for him.

Just another stellar day in 3/7. DOL

Photo/Video: AFRICOM