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It was announced today that the remains of Lt Cdr Michael “Scott” Speicher have been located and returned home. He was the first American casualty during the first gulf war when he was shot down over Iraq.

I remember when he was shot down, and the stunning realization that despite our technological prowess and military power, good men and women still die in war. He was mentioned in no less than two state of the union adresses, his status changed from KIA to MIA to captured over the years and now his remains have been found and he can be laid to rest.

I am so godamned proud of the military that kept looking and almost two decades later found him. I hope our young PFC who has recently been taken hostage in afghanistan stays strong long enough for someone to get to him out safely.

Welcome home Lt Cdr Michael “Scott” Speicher, rest in peace.

The more I learn the more it looks like in the range of 1-6 total participants the total number will eventually work out to be 1.   The mover just doesn’t have the seniority to get time off in an understaffed area, the broken one is no wolverine and will likely take too long to heal up.  The other one just didn’t have the intestinal fortitude to make the 7 day trip into the backcountry.

Now, the biggest question is do I have the cajones to go out solo?  I know the route, I know my gear, I know my capabilities and my limitations.  I know what I can and can’t do and I know I’m capable, but I guess the more integral question is, “Do I want to?”  This would be the longest period of time I’d ever been alone and it seems appropriate that it would be on the Circle of Solitude I suppose.

I know when we got out of the Marines, we all decompressed in different ways.  Canfield lived in the mountains alone for six months, Deleon opened a taco stand, Jolin wound up in jail, Engie threw himself into his education and I’m just a jackass.  Maybe this would be a good chance for an oft-delayed decompression for me.  Still though, I’d prefer not to deal with those demons yet.  Seven days of solitude seems like a nice concept, I’m just not sure I’m ready for it.

In memory of our honored dead on Memorial day, I want to salute Sgt. Merlin German, USMC. 

Merlin was an inspiration and a saint.  With burns over 97 percent of his body he survived and thrived for three years after being given no chance to live.  Merlin was injured in Iraq by an IED and flown home so that his family could say goodbye to him before he died.  He didn’t accept that as his lot in life, he fought.  He fought bravely and selflessly for three years before succumbing to his wounds last month.

He danced with his mom and founded a charity for burnt children during those three years, all while recovering from his horrific wounds.  His life was a triumph, his triumph was an inspiration and his inspiration will continue on. 

What have I done these last three years that compares in any way?

On this Memorial Day, keep them all in your thoughts.

You can read more about Sgt. German here.

The Mountain Warfare Training Challenge was a great race. That has just become one of my annual events, automatically. I loved the challenge of the run; the first two and a half miles were a mix of running and walking for the non elite athletes (most of us). The next four miles were just beautiful if you took the time to look around at the scenery up there in Bridgeport.

The obstacles in the run were fun, but could have been tougher. Though I can respect why they did make them so manageable. After running that initial incline when I got to the wall climb I really wasn’t sure that I had the strength to get over it. When Jared hit the hay bale climb he said he got dizzy at the top. Gant of course had no trouble with anything, which reminds me of a quote from a buddy of his, Sir Richard Branson who said, “If I only had a little humility, I’d be perfect”.

This race has inspired me though. Gant placed 3rd in his age group, I placed 17/28 or so. Gant got this sweet little medal for finishing 3rd, unlike my greatly appreciated though slightly lame ribbon for a 3rd place finish in the Death Valley Marathon. I want that MWTC medal, I’ve dedicated myself to placing next year. My time was 1:06, looking at the top finishing times in my category I need to knock 11-13 minutes off in order to hit that podium next year.

Either way, the race was sweet.  The T-shirt alone is worth the drive, the race was just icing on the cake.  Next year I’m going to get some candles on that cake by getting me a medal. 

MWTC; Mountain Warfare Training Center in Bridgeport, CA.  A place of legends and lore, and in the heady, long forgotten days of yore it was the home to some of the most fun I ever had in the Marine Corps.  I’ll be back there for the first time since 1996 this Saturday for the Mountain Warfare Training Challenge.  It’s a 10k that takes place at elevations ranging from 6,800 to 7,800 which is nothing to shake a stick at.  There are obstacles like a wall to climb, a couple tunnel crawls, a tire course and a hay bale pyramid thing in addition to the whole, run 6 plus miles at elevation.

I love Bridgeport.  It’s a beautiful little town surrounded by beautifully big mountains.  I remember running on my days off with Engie and Jolin to the top of a knoll a few miles from base.  To get there we had to cross at least one ice cold stream and god only knows why we would do that on our day off.  Maybe it’s because none of us had a car there.  We also randomly struck out behind the base, through streams and up cliffs just taking in the newness and beauty of it all. Though, I also remember our semi-senile old First Sergeant singing Asian themed cadences from what must have been the WWII era.  The only problem was that our CO, who I swear to you signed my recommendation letter as Major Wang, USMC, commanding was obviously of Asian descent while he sang the cadences.

Either way, that place is where the Sierra planted seeds in me.  They took awhile to sprout, but they were well planted.  I’m excited to go back and see my memories.  I’m excited to go back and run this race.  I’m excited to get out after the race and get up into the White Mountains.  I’m excited to get out after the White Mountains and get into Death Valley to see Zigzag and Hunter and the Eureka dunes as well as everything inbetween.

I’m just happy to be getting back to where I belong, it’s been too long since I’ve been up there and I miss it.  Bilbo Baggins once described himself as butter scraped over too much bread.  I like that description, because it fits.  I have a very visceral need to be out and exploring, otherwise my mind starts to eat its own thoughts like a dog eating its own shit.  I need to feel the touch of a new sunrise and smell the warmth of a new vista laid before my eyes.  I need to see a sunset on the Sierra crest and sleep under the stars.

I’m going to the root of my enthrallment with the mountains.

Recently, I recalled one of the most spectacular sunsets I have seen in my life. Here in Socal, we are getting the remnants of Hurricane Dean filtering through. So it’s humid and cloudy more often than not, making for some nice sunsets and sunrises. That’s what spawned this memory from god knows where or how long ago.

I don’t remember which shithole of a country it was in but it was one of the oilpipeistan type countries and I was either driving or sitting in a Humvee. Looking out the window to my left was a desert plain like everyone has at least seen pictures of. The sun was going down and there was so much grit and sand in the air that you could see the sphere of the sun and it was no brighter than a dying lightbulb.

The sun sand and grit in the air held the beauty though, it was as colorful as anything you have ever seen and for some reason there were clouds, big puffy white clouds in the desert. And the topper was about to come. As we were driving, we passed by the command post. You know what it looks like, even if you can only imagine it. Camo tents, war equipment, Marines all wandering around doing the stuff that people in that situation do. But a massive American Flag flapping next to a Marine Corps flag. As we drove by the setting sun was framed between those two flags with everything else around creating a vision the likes of which I haven’t seen since.

Well, I still haven’t written up any kind of trip report from this last sierra trip yet. I have to say it’s probably because I am still coming to terms with my mortality, which is something I experienced on the trip. Nothing spectacular happened, outside of the usual Sierra beauty, but Mr. Gant showed me that I’m not the top dog anymore. For the first time ever… since the Marines and Jolin/Engies tearing me up someone has outhiked me, significantly.

When I was panting up our failed Split Mt. attempt, he was yawning. He didn’t need breaks, he didn’t get tired and I am also pretty sure he didn’t use the bathroom. I can only draw one conclusion from these observations; D. Gant is not fully human. Once I get some definitive proof, I will be alerting the FBI abou this entire situation.

Outside of that, I’ve realized my body is fucking stupid and annoying. The better shape I’m in the earlier it wakes up. For the last couple weeks, since the Split Mt trip, I’ve been working out pretty hard, to try to keep up with Gant the next time we head out. My body seems to associate being in shape with the Marines, so it wakes me up somewhere between 5 and 530, what the fuck is that? It’s making me quite angry and I will be writing a sternly worded letter to someone if this continues much longer.

Well, I expected it. I was anticipating it. I was fearing it and I was right, it happened. Tax time came and it was bad. Total damage, roundabout 4 grand, yes, 4,000 US dollars to state and federal taxes (in addition to the deductions taken out with every check). If that kind of news just doesn’t make your day, I don’t know what would.

At the tax bracket I’m in, it’s expected that you have a couple tax shelters. I learned that last year and sheltered everything from last years taxes and even wound up getting money back. This year, the shelters didn’t work out so well because of various complications. Now, I’ve got no problem paying the same taxes that everyone else does. The problem is where the tax money I’m paying is going.

A buddy of mine, who shall remain nameless (cough GJ cough) has been unemployed for over a year. He collected his full unemployment benefits, he lives at home with his parents and goes to school. He gets financial aid (read: my tax money) to go to school and live at home with his parents, without. even. bothering. to. get. a. job. Godamn. Then to top it all off, he got a refund on his taxes this year. A REFUND ON HIS UNEMPLOYMENT BENEFIT TAXES.

Now, I’m no saint, I’ve done wasted more tax payer money than G can hope to in a lifetime of mooching off various agencies. My wasting was done in the name of national security though, military spending which is like the 3rd rail of politics, no one can touch that without paying a price (much like social security). So I saw the immensely wasteful, but necessary expenditures the DOD puts out and can only imagine them multiplied by the 13 other major federal agencies. All of which conspire to take my hard earned money in the form of taxes.

In closing, please visit the CATO institute (Libertarian think tank) and take a look around at their ideas and proposals for America, and then send me money

Happy Birthday, Jarheads.

The following will be read to the command on the 10th of November, 1921, and hereafter on the 10th of November of every year. Should the order not be received by the 10th of November, 1921, it will be read upon receipt.

(1) On November 10, 1775, a Corps of Marines was created by a resolution of Continental Congress. Since that date many thousand men have borne the name “Marine”. In memory of them it is fitting that we who are Marines should commemorate the birthday of our corps by calling to mind the glories of its long and illustrious history.

(2) The record of our corps is one which will bear comparison with that of the most famous military organizations in the world’s history. During 90 of the 146 years of its existence the Marine Corps has been in action against the Nation’s foes. From the Battle of Trenton to the Argonne, Marines have won foremost honors in war, and is the long eras of tranquility at home, generation after generation of Marines have grown gray in war in both hemispheres and in every corner of the seven seas, that our country and its citizens might enjoy peace and security.

(3) In every battle and skirmish since the birth of our corps, Marines have acquitted themselves with the greatest distinction, winning new honors on each occasion until the term “Marine” has come to signify all that is highest in military efficiency and soldierly virtue.

(4) This high name of distinction and soldierly repute we who are Marines today have received from those who preceded us in the corps. With it we have also received from them the eternal spirit which has animated our corps from generation to generation and has been the distinguishing mark of the Marines in every age. So long as that spirit continues to flourish Marines will be found equal to every emergency in the future as they have been in the past, and the men of our Nation will regard us as worthy successors to the long line of illustrious men who have served as “Soldiers of the Sea” since the founding of the Corps.

JOHN A. LEJEUNE,
Major General Commandant

I thought I had some exciting news today, as I found out there was another roll of film from the Banner peak trip that I hadn’t picked up.  So today I got it and the slides looked awesome, I was filled with optimism and hope, looking forward to see how they’d turn out.  Got home, scanned them and bleh, crap.  Sort of ruined my motivation for the day to be honest.  Don’t know if it’s the scanner (1200 dpi) if I scanned them wrong or what, but they came out looking like low res crap. 

So that’s my news for the day, plus I heard that my black ops, operation papoose lake, MWTC buddy Tim Deleon is coming back to Cali in a few months, AWWWW YEAH.

The couch is like my own personal kryponite, damn that thing.