Chuck & Debbie's Great American Road Trip Of 2013

(I have been absent from my blog since May 19 because Debbie and I have been on a sixteen day road trip through America. We traveled from Florida through Texas to Arizona, Utah, Wyoming, Nebraska, Missouri, to points in-between and then back home. This is our journal.)

Day 1: May 19 – To Gulfport, Mississippi:

                                

The primary mission today was to get out of Florida. We left home and took the Florida Turnpike north to Interstate 10. Then we headed west, passing Tallahassee, Panama City, and Pensacola. We drove through downtown Mobile, Alabama, passing Mobile Bay. We reached our first day’s destination of Gulfport, Mississippi and stayed at a Fairfield Inn because I had made a reservation via AAA. This would surely be one of our longest days. It took eight hours and 54 minutes (584 miles) to get to Gulfport.

Our budget is about $180 a day. I allowed for around $100 a day for a hotel, $50 a day for gas, and $30 a day for food. Our 2012 Nissan Versa is good on gas, but it is small. By loading up the trunk, we did cut the mileage a bit.

Along with our luggage, I added an emergency kit to the car’s trunk with supplies for unforeseen situations. We packed a large cooler with bottled water, a few soft drinks, and some lunch meat for sandwiches. We also purchased a full size spare tire and got the windows tinted to protect us better from the desert heat. Yes, I did take my .45 and some spare ammo, just in case we run into the Clanton gang or any Mexican bandidos. (As a retired law enforcement officer who qualifies at the range every year, I am authorized to carry a concealed handgun anywhere in the United States.)

The overall goal is west to the Alamo in San Antonio, then to El Paso, Texas. From there we will head to Tombstone, Arizona. (“You’re a daisy if you do,” said Doc Holliday.) Then it’s the Grand Canyon, north through Utah and a two-day stop somewhere in the area of Yellowstone National Park. After that, we will head home, a cross-country journey of some four days. Depending on money and time, we might stop at Mount Rushmore.

We briefly contemplated a change of course in Gulfport, and we thought about going straight to Yellowstone. This would have taken us up Interstate 35 through the Oklahoma City area. Had we done so, we would have been in the area of the huge F5 tornado that struck there on May 20. There had already been bad weather and a couple of tornadoes in that area, so we decided to stick with our original plan to head west.  How lucky we were to make that decision.

Day 2: May 20 – To Katy, Texas:

                            

We drove from Gulfport, Mississippi  past New Orleans and crossed the not-very-clear Mississippi River at Baton Rouge, Louisiana. We could see a busy river community with barges and a couple of fancy riverboats. After Baton Rouge, we spent a lot of time on a very long, long bridge through the wetlands and swamps of Louisiana before finally crossing into Texas.

We got to Houston just before rush hour, but it was still a busy place. We had made our reservation at a Comfort Suites in Katy, Texas, just west of Houston.  Before we arrived, we noticed that our car’s air conditioning was having a problem. It was not cooling well and sometimes it stopped blowing cold air altogether.

After we checked into the hotel, I found a Nissan dealer only two miles from the hotel. I arranged to bring the car in the next morning. Then we ate at a Kentucky Fried Chicken and hit the rack. Before we fell asleep we watched the terrible news about the tornado that destroyed much of Moore, Oklahoma, killing 24 people including several children. We were glad we did not have to witness this horrible tragedy.

Day 3: May 21 – Still in Katy, Texas:

I was first in line at 6:30 AM at the Autonation Nissan. They drove me back to the hotel in their courtesy van. A couple of hours later, they called me and said that a part needed to be ordered. They would have it overnighted, but we would have to stay until tomorrow. We were not happy, but there’s nothing we can do. We have to have AC for the trip over the desert to El Paso and beyond. Since we had to walk everywhere, we ate at Kentucky Fried Chicken again.

Day 4: May 22 – To The Alamo and then to Kerrville, Texas:

Debbie in front of the Alamo.

The driving is long, but the benefit is that Debbie and I are seeing the United States one mile at a time. It had been about nine hours to Gulfport and a comparable distance to Katy, Texas.

Our big goal for today was to see the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas. We made it in about two and a half hours. As soon as we got into San Antonio, we were caught in a massive traffic jam. A lot of people live in that city, and all of them appeared to be in traffic with us.

It was a sobering experience to stand inside the remarkable Alamo knowing that we were walking in the steps of Davy Crockett and the others who made a fatal stand for Texas independence against the Mexican Army.  I tried to picture a couple hundred Texans fighting thousands of Mexicans to the death. These brave men held out until the very end, knowing that their efforts would be in vain and that they would all perish.

There is no admission charge at the Alamo, although parking up the street cost ten dollars. We spoke with a lady who belongs to the Daughters of the Alamo, the group who protects the heritage of that great shrine. When I told her I was distantly related to Davy Crockett, she gave me an information sheet for relatives. I’ll check it out better when we get home.

Then it was west again on I-10. We drove another three and a half hours before stopping at a Hampton Inn in Kerrville, Texas.

This was a very pretty little town on the Guadalupe River. We had dinner at a Cracker Barrel near the hotel and got another well-deserved night of rest.

Day 5: May 23 – To El Paso, Texas:

In the windswept desert west of El Paso, Texas

The drive to El Paso was six hours and 38 minutes.  We had the opportunity to see how the terrain changed from San Antonio to the west. We finally saw more mountains, more desert, and very windy conditions. We could see a bad storm far off into the desert and the beginnings of a funnel cloud. The tragedy in Oklahoma was very present in our minds. Debbie filmed a few dust devils and some of the desert terrain. Then we hit the edge of a storm and were pelted with hailstones the size quarters. After we got to the hotel, it did not appear there was any damage to the car.

At one of the rest stops, I spoke with a guy wearing a Vietnam veteran hat. He had a duffel bag with him, and he was obviously a transient. We compared tours, and he told me his year in Vietnam was the only time in his life that he ever did anything important. It was hard to see this guy who was my age and know that he had done all he would ever do in life. He would spend the rest of that life walking the roads of America with that duffel bag. It’s difficult to see how Vietnam changed some of the men in my generation. Some of us could never move beyond the war; others of us placed the memories in the back of our minds and moved on. I always said that you should use the experiences of war to make you a better man, not a worse man. I gave the old transient the “warriors never give up” speech before wishing him good luck, telling him “welcome home” and driving off. I thought about offering him some money, but we had enjoyed a short conversation as “peers.” I didn’t want to insult him by letting him think I felt sorry for him.

We stopped on the west side of El Paso and checked into a Springhill Suites Hotel. I spent time in El Paso when we were training soldiers at Fort Bliss. It is an interesting town, but we have both decided that as pretty as the desert can be, it does not appeal to us as a place we would want to live.

Tomorrow the objective is Tombstone, Arizona, former playground of Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Johnny Ringo, and the other unique characters from the turbulent 1880s.

I’m your huckleberry….

Day 6: May 24 – To Tombstone, Arizona:

The original Bird Cage Theater in Tombstone, Arizona

The drive from El Paso to Tombstone was an education in deserts. When we crossed from Texas into New Mexico, we noticed that there was more greenery and that there were a lot of pecan orchards. In one area there were vast orchards; and then they were gone and it was desert again.

The mountains were beautiful but stark. In the distance it was possible to see green crops growing in the vicinity of the Rio Grande River. Then it was gone and we drove on through the hills and the mountains, many of them red with age, strewn with boulders, and looking as though they wanted nothing to do with mankind. The unlimited expanse of sand was inhospitable, dry, windy, and able to kill you if you dared to enter a waterless world filling miles of a dusty, lonely, hellish environment. I was hoping we could see a coyote or a jackrabbit for Debbie but no such luck. (The only ones we saw were dead ones that had been hit by cars.) We stopped at one rest area and the signs warned everyone to be on the lookout for rattlesnakes. Debbie was uncertain about this and used me to guide her to the ladies room.  We peered inside, didn’t see any of the horrible vipers, and she entered alone, defeating her fear a foot at a time. (She was terrified….)

We finally approached our turnoff in Benson, Arizona. It was another twenty miles or so to Tombstone, but we made it to Allen Street in the old frontier section of town. The Tombstone Epitaph office, the Bird Cage Theater, the O.K. Corral, and many other famous locations were hit one at a time. We watched the gunfight re-enactment next to the O.K. Corral. Then we bought a few souvenirs for the kids and grandkids. A walk down Allen Street past the Oriental Saloon was followed by dinner at the Longhorn Restaurant. The town was filled with men and women dressed as old time westerners. Stage coaches traveled back and forth through town, and everyone we met was friendly, helpful, and courteous.

The local Tombstone stage gets ready to depart.

The most interesting thing we saw was the walking tour of the Bird Cage Theater. It is one of the few buildings in the town that have remained unchanged. The bar inside the front lobby is the same one that Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Johnny Ringo and the Clantons stood in front of. The mirrors over the bar are the same ones they looked into. Inside the theater itself, one can imagine the performers on the stage and the patrons looking on from the boxes that lined the second floor.

In the basement of the theater are the same rooms in which prostitutes entertained their customers. One room is known as the place where Wyatt Earp and Josie Marcus began their love affair. Next to the rooms is the poker area with a small bar and two tables. It was here that Earp, Holliday and others engaged in their poker games.

The original gambling area in the basement of the Bird Cage Theater

In the theater itself, the piano in front of the stage is the very same piano in use during the Earp and Clanton period. To the left of the stage is a faro table used by Doc Holliday. It was between the faro table and the piano that Holiday had one of his encounters with Johnny Ringo.

We ran into one couple who recommended the Landmark Lookout Lodge just south of Tombstone about a half mile and almost across the street from Boot Hill - yeah, the cemetery where all the old cowboys (good and bad) are buried. It is supposedly haunted, so we registered there. We were given room 213 (the same room we had in El Paso.) We will let you know tomorrow if we are haunted tonight.

It is 7:21 PM and Debbie is already dozing off back at the room. It was hotter than Hades in Tombstone. I made her drink a lot of water while we walked around town, but it was even hot for this old soldier.

Tomorrow it is on to Flagstaff, Arizona, but not before we make a quick stop at the Tombstone Boot Hill cemetery. It is supposedly haunted as well…

Across Fremont Street 

from the O.K Corral and Fly’s Photography

Day 7: May 25 - To Williams, Arizona near the Grand Canyon:

Our "haunted" hotel in Tombstone, Arizona

Last night about 10 PM, Debbie woke me up out of a deep sleep. She was sleeping alone in one of the two beds, and she said someone (“something”) had just put an arm over her. She thought it was me at first, but then she saw me in the other bed. She had an immediate chill and tried to call out to me but she couldn’t speak. She finally could speak enough to wake me up, and the incident ended. She vows she had been awake since getting up briefly at 9:41 PM. Guess the Landmark Lookout Lodge IS haunted.

But that is not all. Before we went to bed, we noticed three large fingerprints on the long mirror at the end of her bed. She got a tissue and wiped them off the mirror. When we woke up again, there were two fresh large fingerprints.  Fortunately, whoever shared the room with us was friendly. (They sure liked Debbie….) Our hotel was across the road from the original Boot Hill Cemetery with all the famous outlaw graves like Billy Clanton, the McLaury’s, and off course Les Moore (below). We visited Boot Hill before leaving town.

We left Tombstone and headed north, with the objective being Williams, Arizona which is only about an hour from the Grand Canyon. We had barely left Tombstone on a small, two-lane country road when we hit a Border Patrol checkpoint. This was the second time this has happened. The border patrol officer asked me if we were U.S. citizens. I replied that we were and that I am a retired police officer. Once he saw the badge and ID, he thanked me and motioned for us to drive on.

There has been some controversy from some those on the extreme right about the validity of these checkpoints. There have even been videos posted where the drivers refuse to answer any questions because they don’t feel the Border Patrol has a right to just stop people to check citizenship. While I understand how this could someday get out of control (“Let me see your papers,” said the man from the Gestapo), we were only a few miles from the border. These guys were just doing their jobs. They were polite, and I saw nothing wrong with it. Now, if it became routine throughout all of America, then I might begin to have a problem. If they tried to search me or my vehicle without probable cause, then there would be a problem with that.

This day would be one of the longest from a driving standpoint. We picked up I-10 west before taking I-17 north. We drove through Tucson and then Phoenix. Just outside Phoenix, we found ourselves in a massive traffic jam because of an accident. We lost almost an hour waiting in traffic. There had been a fatal motorcycle accident.

After the traffic finally started moving, we headed north again on I-17. We began looking for a rest area because we both had to use the “facilities.” Well, sure enough, right at the exit for the rest area there was another major accident that closed the entrance to the rest area. We were in another major traffic jam. This one didn’t last quite as long, but now we both REALLY needed a bathroom.

The next exit was Black Canyon City. A sign said there was a Pecos Bill’s Pizza place so we turned off. There was no pizza place. Now I was getting desperate. For a mile or so, we followed this desert road before I had to turn off in an area of small homes and mobile homes that were each sitting on about an acre of desert. Finally, I could wait no longer and just stopped next to a cactus. I relieved myself (although I was sure someone was calling the police to report an old man urinating in his cactus garden.)

Then it was back to I-17 through a winding trail of paved and unpaved roads. We were finally heading north again, but now Debbie was getting desperate. The next exit had some restaurants and gas stations, so we pulled off on Highway 69.

I dropped Debbie off at the front of a Subway that was part of the gas station. We noticed that almost everyone who had been caught in the traffic jam was either getting gas, trying to eat, or going to the bathroom. After I parked, I went inside and saw my poor wife at the end of a line to the ladies’ room of some 20 women, all of them shifting their feet and looking desperate. The men’s room had no line.

After she finally completed her business, we didn’t even wait to eat or fill up. We left I-17 which has now become the most accident-prone highway in the entire west (at least to us.) We drove north on Highway 69. This turned out to be a pleasant journey, taking us into Prescott Valley, a lovely town with trees on the mountains, shopping, and an open, clean appearance. When we reached the town of Prescott about seven miles later, we turned right on Highway 89 and drove north to Interstate 40. From there we went east to Williams, Arizona and our home for the night at the Mountain Ranch Resort at Beacon Hill.

Mountain Ranch Resort is a beautiful place, looking out on mountains that have some trees and a little snow left over at the top. Debbie made friends with a small rabbit in the courtyard, and we had a terrific dinner in the restaurant. The whole place has the look of a mountain lodge.

Tomorrow morning (well, it’s 4:17 AM of the 26^th as I write this), we will have breakfast here, then pack up, check out and drive to the Grand Canyon. From there we will head north once again (as we drive around the Grand Canyon – not through it or over it) until we arrive in Kanab, Utah for the night. Because of the Memorial Day weekend, we have reservations again.

Day 8: May 26 - To the Grand Canyon and Kanab, Utah:

At the Grand Canyon

After a nice breakfast at the Mountain Ranch Resort restaurant, we got an early start for our visit to the Grand Canyon. We had read about how long the entrance line could be, but there was no line at all. Because I am now officially an elderly person, I bought a $10 senior pass which got me, Debbie and the car into the park. The pass is good at any national park for the rest of my life.

We stopped at the visitor center before walking a short path to the canyon. It was a breathtaking sight. We spent about an hour there before stopping at the small store near the visitor center. The entire event took about an hour and a half.

The overland journey to Kanab, Utah began as we drove east on Highway 64. It took a long time to traverse the winding road that followed the south rim of the canyon. Eventually, we made it to Highway 89 and turned north. We stopped briefly at a Navajo-run station to gas up the car. The trees on the sides of the mountains disappeared, and the stark, treeless desert returned.

We were passing through the Navajo Indian Reservation. For many miles, the only buildings or mobile homes we saw were those of extremely poor people. Many of them were very small, probably one room, and a lot of them looked like they were about to collapse. The terrain was part of the “Painted Desert” with beautiful mountains striped with gray, red, and lavender-colored sands.

Eventually, the buildings disappeared, and we were driving through the vast emptiness of the desert. When we crossed streams or rivers, they were dry as a bone. The vistas were spectacular but foreboding. You knew that survival in such intense environments would be difficult if not impossible.

At one point, highway 89 became blocked off for an unknown reason. We were forced to take Alternate 89 off to the northwest. All of the roads so far had been only two-lane strips of pavement. 89 A was also a two-lane road, but it was not as well-constructed.

We had our GPS, but the crazy broad’s voice told us to turn right onto House Rock Road. When we reached it, we saw that it was a dirt road that led out into some dry canyon. We stayed on 89 A, but realized that there might have been someone who would have followed the GPS instructions. If they had done so, then their bodies would have been found a few years from now in some dry gulch with empty water bottles strewn all around their skeletons.

A few miles later, the GPS woman told us to turn right again, this time on National Forest road 247. Once again, this might have worked if we were hunters traveling into the deep woods, but for an old Florida couple headed to Utah, the end result might not have gone well. Once again, I ignored the GPS and stayed on 89 A. The road had to meander over and around canyons, boulders, dry creeks, and near the edges of many cliffs. Debbie did not like that part. The far-off mountains were a fiery red and the scenery took your breath away. Finally, we reached the border of Arizona and Utah. A couple of miles later, we enter Kanab, Utah and our hotel for the night at a Days Inn and Suites.

This was our shot-in-the-dark hotel reservation to make sure we had a place to stay on Sunday night of Memorial Day weekend. When we checked in, the clerk had a problem at first because they had been over-booked with a couple of bus tours. At first we were not sure we would have a room, but he worked it out and the room is fine. We had dinner across the street at the Sunset Bar and Grill. It was a nice place getting ready for a live band at 7 PM. Our room was about a hundred yards away, so I worried about possible noise but there wasn’t enough to keep me from sleeping like a rock. Fell asleep at about 8:15 PM (yeah, I’m old and I drove a long way), but I am up at 3 AM writing this.

We will travel tomorrow to Spanish Fork, Utah, to visit Karen and Michael Ferguson for the night. We had planned to drive to Yellowstone National Park, but unfortunately there are no rooms available in the park. The nearest rooms are at least 50 miles away, and it takes a long time to travel around inside the park – hours and hours. Right now we aren’t sure we will hit Yellowstone. We may save that for a special week all by itself at a later date. I am going to revisit all the post-Spanish Fork plans right now.

Day 9: May 27 - To Spanish Fork, Utah:

Debbie with our friends Karen and Michael Ferguson in Spanish Fork, Utah

Driving from Kanab, Utah, to Spanish Fork, Utah was not long in the driving sense (only about four hours and ten minutes), but the roads were two lanes most of the way (highway 89), and we drove through some neat little towns (Glendale, Alton, Hatch, and Panguitch). The Bryce Canyon National Park was off to the east as was a nice little river called the Sevier River. We passed farms and ranches that were picturesque and the ride was relaxing. We took highway 20 west and got on Interstate 15 north.

This route took us to Spanish Fork, Utah, where our friends, Michael and Karen Ferguson invited us to spend the night. Their home overlooks a beautiful mountain range and a golf course. Karen showed us around the area, and we met Michael at a Red Robin Restaurant for dinner.

After a relaxing evening, it was time to finalize our plans for the next couple of days. We will go to Yellowstone. The reservation was set for Colter Bay Village in the Grand Teton National Forest. It is only a few miles from Yellowstone.  We will stay in a cabin on the night of the 28^th, and then see what we can of Yellowstone before moving on to Cody, Wyoming for the night.

I am looking forward to seeing Yellowstone. It has been about 50 years since I was there. I participated in a YMCA camping trip called the Caravan Camp in the mid-sixties. One of our stops was Yellowstone, and the experience is still fresh in my mind in many ways. I look forward to sharing this with Debbie who will be seeing this national park for the first time.

Day 10: May 28 - To Grand Teton National Park and Colter Bay Village:

The Snake River in Wyoming on a rainy day, but it was still beautiful.

This leg of our journey began as we gassed up the Nissan in Spanish Fork, loaded up the ice chest, and rubbed the sleep from our eyes. We left town by 8 AM on Interstate 15, but quickly left that highway and moved onto smaller roads. We wound our way around mountains and through valleys, eventually entering Wyoming. Then the road took us back into Utah. Eventually, we would cut the corner of Idaho before re-entering Wyoming.

Other than the spectacular scenery, the biggest memory of this day will be the rain. It started to rain almost from the moment we left and never stopped until after we had settled into our cabin at Colter Bay.

The route in Wyoming was highway 89, and it took us through some beautiful towns (Afton, Alpine, and finally, Jackson Hole).

After we left Jackson Hole, there was no doubt that the massive Teton Range was off to the west. It was unfortunate that the rain clouds obscured the peaks, but they were impressive nonetheless.

Finally, we arrived at Colter Bay Cabins and were introduced to cabin 610. It is a one-room authentic log cabin about 18 by 30 feet in size. Although they have added a bathroom, there is no television, no internet, no air conditioning, and no refrigerator. There is a small wall heater which is great since it is supposed to go down to the mid-thirties tonight.

It looks like the weather is going to be about the same tomorrow while we visit Yellowstone. No problem. Old Faithful will still spout off, the hot springs will still be hot, and the waterfalls will still flow. Hopefully we will also see a few bears and other animals to make the day a memorable one. We will take as much video and still photos as possible.

In front of our small, one-room log cabin

in the Grand Teton National Park

Day 11: May 29 - To Yellowstone National Park and Cody, Wyoming:

We made it! At the entrance to Yellowstone

We were up early for breakfast at the restaurant at Colter Bay Village. Then it was off to Yellowstone. It took less than an hour to reach the front gate on the south side of Yellowstone where my senior pass from the Grand Canyon got us in for free.

We had a plan for our day-long visit. We planned to travel one big circle starting with Old Faithful. We would end up leaving the park on the east end. We would spend the night in Cody, Wyoming (named for Buffalo Bill Cody).

We saw Old Faithful and ate lunch at the Inn that overlooks that famous geyser and its related hot springs. As we headed north, we saw our first buffalo, a species that was hunted to the brink of extinction in the 19^th century. In fact, we would see, photograph, and film quite a few buffalo.

 A piece of Americana in the flesh - one of Yellowstone's buffaloes

We also managed to see a small group of caribou and finally got a great view of a grizzly bear feeding on a kill about a hundred yards from the road. We couldn't stop because tourists had filled the roadside, but Debbie managed to get some of the bear on video. I wanted to see a moose, but we never did.

At Old Faithful

The entire day was spent in an on again off again misty, drizzly rain. We drove past old snow that had been there for some time. Then we were in the middle of a combination of rain and snow, i.e. sleet. When we got out of the car, we were cold. Fortunately, the rain came and went a lot, so we were able to see more hot springs and the upper and lower falls. Our last leg out of Yellowstone would take us past fresh snow.

We stopped at the souvenir shop at the Old Faithful Inn and bought the place out for the kids and grandkids.

At one of Yellowstone's beautiful waterfalls

The day in Yellowstone concluded by mid-afternoon, and we headed for Cody. By the time we arrived, we were pretty tired. We checked into a Holiday Inn ($91 bucks with a military discount). We were too tired for supper. I fell asleep by 8 PM. Debbie was not far behind me.

Before we crashed, we discovered that the weather in the Midwest is so bad that Mount Rushmore National Park has a flood warning and a flood watch for the next couple of days. We were warned by the Fergusons who experienced Mount Rushmore on a day where the clouds obscured the monument. We are afraid that this is what will happen if we try to see it tomorrow. So, in a disappointing decision, we will probably forego Mount Rushmore this trip and drive to Cheyenne, Wyoming tomorrow. Then it will be a cross country drive of four days to get home. The biggest trick will be to try and go behind or around the severe weather which is threatening tornadoes, hail, and lots of rain.

It is now 4 AM. Since I went to bed too early, I can’t sleep any more. I’ll take another look at the weather before we make an irreversible travel decision.

Day 12: May 30 - To Cheyenne, Wyoming:

A view of the Wind River Canyon between Thermopolis and Shoshoni, Wyoming

We left Cody, Wyoming early and headed out to Cheyenne. We would travel from the far northwest part of Wyoming all the way down to the far southeast corner. It was a long journey of over six hours marked by a few showers and a lot of high winds. The car was buffeted by wind almost the entire journey. We managed to see a few deer and some bighorn sheep.

I must say that I had forgotten how sparsely populated Wyoming is. There are only about half a million people who reside in the state. Almost all of the state seems to be wide open prairies and almost bare mountains. You cannot drive through this state without acquiring a tremendous respect for the men and women who survived the harsh elements, the hostile Indians, and the day-to-day struggle just to survive.

We eventually arrived in Cheyenne and are staying at a Springhill Suites hotel. We have decided to move on to Lincoln, Nebraska for the next leg of our trip. We are trying to stay behind the terrible weather that ended our trip to Mount Rushmore and threatens to damage Oklahoma and surrounding areas once more.

Day 13: May 31 - To Lincoln, Nebraska:

It was a tough decision, but the weather at Mount Rushmore is going to be too unpleasant to try to travel there. We decided to begin the final leg of our journey by trying to avoid the severe weather in the Oklahoma City/St. Louis areas. The fastest route home would be from Lincoln, Nebraska to St. Louis to Nashville, Tennessee and beyond. However, the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers meet up in St. Louis and they are at flood stage. A long line of severe weather (including the possibility of more tornadoes) from Texas up to Illinois make it difficult to find a safe path south and across the Mississippi.

The trip from Cheyenne to Lincoln was a very long and uneventful one. The unbelievable high winds in Wyoming continued into Nebraska, but the sun was shining and we encountered no bad weather. The mountains faded away, and we entered America’s heartland. Wide plains, farmland as far as the eye could see, and it went on like this all the way to Lincoln.

After dinner at an International House of Pancakes, we returned to our room. There we learned of the tornadoes approaching the Oklahoma City area, just to our south. Before the night was over, it was estimated that five people had been killed (the death toll would be much greater in the end), including a mother and her baby. The storms continued on to St. Louis.

I have tentatively planned to head south to Joplin, Missouri. This will keep up just north of the severe weather, although we might see some rain. I don’t want to get stranded somewhere in rush hour (which is how some of the people died last night) nor do I want to take a chance that we might get stuck in a flood in St. Louis.

The Weather Channel indicates that the weather in Joplin will be okay. Then the next day I would like to get to Memphis. It appears the weather may clear by then in the town of Elvis’s Graceland. But we will need to revisit all of this tonight in Joplin.

We are ready to get home. It has been a long, rewarding journey, but it’s time to get back.

After all, we have to start planning for the next trip to…..wherever!

Day 14: June 1 - To Joplin, Missouri:

The trip from Lincoln, Nebraska to Joplin, Missouri was quiet and uneventful.  After the second terrible tornado event in the Oklahoma City area, we watched the clouds in the distance, and we even noticed some flooded fields and one flooded road. We have no choice but to try and thread our way back to Florida. There are still flood watches that will continue even when the severe weather has moved off to the northeast.

Joplin has its own tragic past when it comes to tornadoes. An F5 tornado almost destroyed this city on May 22, 2011.

Our path to Joplin takes us in between the Oklahoma area and St. Louis. We are “threading the needle” trying to get through the damaged areas and potential severe weather. We passed more farmland and the terrain became a little more hilly and forested. Finally, after over six hours, we arrived in Joplin and are staying once again at a Fairfield Inn. We always get the government rate of $77 a night, and they have a really nice breakfast in the morning.

After checking the weather, it looks like we will make our way to Tupelo, Mississippi tomorrow. It is about eight hours away, but will put us only about eleven hours from home. We do have to pass through Springfield, Missouri which still has flood watches, but the weather is supposed to improve today.

We are both tired and ready to get home. It has been fun, but it’s time to get back to the real world. When it is all done, I will fine tune and edit this journal for posterity and put together a little video of our travels. Our budget has worked well, almost to the penny, so planning for a future trip will be easier.

Now it’s on to Tupelo, birthplace of the king of rock and roll, Elvis Presley. We will pass through Memphis, but I’m not sure we’ll have time to see Graceland….

Day 15: June 2 - To Tupelo, Mississippi:

The trip to Tupelo was right through the heart of America. Farmlands, including some that were flooded from the severe weather, and also some property damage – downed trees, a destroyed shed, flooded side roads.

We spent our last night in Elvis’s hometown. The Fairfield Inn was conveniently located and we had a pleasant dinner at an Applebee’s. We prepared for the final, long ride home of eleven hours and 34 minutes.

Then we crashed…..

Day 16: June 3 - To the House:

The last leg of our journey was long indeed. I drove for the first six hours or so, then Debbie relieved me for about two hours. After a short snooze and a rest stop, I finished the drive home. A little rain, but nothing bad. We arrived home at about 7 PM. After unpacking, we had a snack, talked about what a great adventure we had successfully completed, then hit the sack early.

I slept for nine and a half hours straight, which is unheard of for me. Debbie slept a little longer. Terrific trip, super adventures, but it's great to be home...

Day 17: June 4 - The End of the Trail:

Three days before we left home on the 19th of May, we made the last minute decision to take the road trip we had put off since I retired from the police department in 2010.

We were foolish to have put it off at all, because our family lives with the memory of my parents' unfulfilled travel plans. My mother died just three years before my father's scheduled retirement. They were never able to fulfill their dream trips. Debbie and I always said we would not let that happen to us, but the struggles of raising four kids put off our travels as well. God granted us the opportunity to retire together, so we must do what we can to enjoy our lives while we can. We know too many people our age who have died or who are in too poor health to make such a trip happen. We realized that this road trip would be the first time we had taken a two-week vacation in the entire forty years we have been together. All our other trips together or as a family had been a week or less.

We traveled one big circle around the greatest country in the world. We watched palm trees and swamps in Florida, Alabama, and Mississippi turn into the deserts of Texas, New Mexico and Arizona. We got to stand in the Alamo, imagining what the heroes who died there had gone through. We stood in legendary Tombstone in the steps of Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, and Johnny Ringo. We saw those deserts give way to mountains and the gigantic Grand Canyon. We marveled as America turned into a splendid painting of the Teton Range of snow-capped mountains and the forested majesty that is Yellowstone National Park.

We witnessed the great buffalo, a ravenous grizzly bear, gentle caribou, and a variety of animals right down to the cute-as-a-button chipmunks. We drove through everything from stifling heat to cold winds, drizzly rain mixed with snow, and descended into spacious canyons with steep cliffs and flowing rivers. We crossed the paths of Lewis and Clark, the trails of the great mountain men like Jim Bridger,and the faded tracks of the wagon trains driven by adventurous, courageous Americans seeking a better life in the West and beyond.

We passed through the legendary towns of Cody, Wyoming (named after Buffalo Bill) and Cheyenne, Wyoming, a cattle empire city since the mid-1800s. We made our turn to the south through Lincoln, Nebraska and Joplin, Missouri. Twice during our trip, we had to avoid the terrible weather that resulted in the tragic tornadoes of Oklahoma. We made our way through the heart of America, gazing at cornfields that stretched as far as the eye could see, farms, ranches, forests, wide plains, grazing cattle, and peaceful rivers.

Everywhere we went, the people we met were friendly, courteous, and helpful. We made new acquaintances throughout the South, the West, and the Midwest.

As we relive our adventures from the "Great American Road Trip of 2013," we will continue to reflect on how fortunate we are to be Americans, living in a country of generous, loving people who have worked hard to build the greatest nation in the world.

I'm not worried about America's future at all. The people we met - like those who preceded them in history - will never allow their freedoms to be taken away.

After all, we are Americans.....

Charles M. Grist

www.MyLastWar.com

Vietnam Veteran Receives Purple Heart 45 Years Later

All I can say is, “It’s about time….”

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ARMY VETERAN AWARDED PURPLE HEART 45 YEARS AFTER INJURY

Fox News

April 14, 2013

A North Carolina veteran has been awarded a Purple Heart 45 years after he was wounded in Vietnam.

The AshevilleCitizen-Times reported Friday that U.S. Sen. Kay Hagan, D-North Carolina, presented Dockie Brendle his third Purple Heart during a special afternoon ceremony at the Charles George VA Medical Center.

READ MORE   http://www.foxnews.com/us/2013/04/14/army-veteran-awarded-purple-heart-45-years-after-injury/

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Posted by:

Charles M. Grist

www.MyLastWar.com

Korean War Chaplain Awarded Posthumous Medal Of Honor

The story of Catholic Chaplain Emil Kapaun is unbelievably inspiring. Please read about this remarkable American soldier below.

What is equally unbelievable is how long it took for Captain Kapaun to be honored.

It is also reported that the Vatican is considering sainthood.

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ARMY CHAPLAIN GIVEN POSTHUMOUS MEDAL OF HONOR

Fox News

April 11, 2013

President Barack Obama awarded the Medal of Honor Thursday to an Army chaplain from Kansas who risked his life dodging gunfire to provide medical and spiritual aid to wounded soldiers before dying in captivity more than 60 years ago during the Korean War.

"I can't imagine a better example for all of us, whether in uniform or not in uniform, a better example to follow," Obama said after presenting the nation's highest military award for valor to a nephew of Capt. Emil Kapaun during a ceremony in the White House East Room.

READ MORE

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Posted by:

Charles M. Grist

www.MyLastWar.com

Walking Down The Far Side Of The Hill – What It’s Like To Be Retired

I’ve got to tell you that retirement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be – especially when you’ve spent your entire life with a Type A personality. Being either a military man or a cop has occupied most of my time since I first left home for the Citadel at age 18. Since then, it’s been hard just to fit all the adventures into one lifetime.

Now I’m no longer running patrols or dodging bullets in the jungles of Vietnam. I’m not on a plane making a crash landing in Vung Tau. I’m not on a C130 getting ready for a parachute jump. The convoys along Route Irish in Baghdad are over. I’ll never again stand in Nebuchadnezzar’s palace in Babylon, Iraq. I’m not a street crimes officer on a robbery stakeout. I’m not a detective interviewing some suspect trying to get him to confess. I’m not a patrol officer doing a felony stop. I’m not chasing a burglar or car thief through alleys and apartment complexes. I’m not wrestling with a shoplifter. I’m not looking over the top of my Glock at a guy who just pulled a knife on me. These experiences are all in the past.

Life is very, very tame at 64.

The good part is that my wife Debbie and I get to spend most of our time together instead of apart. She doesn’t have to worry about me getting shot by some street thug or ambushed by terrorists. I don’t have to deal with scumbags, cope with the deaths of both good guys and bad guys, and it’s no longer necessary to put up with the political horse manure in the military and law enforcement communities.

We’ve traveled some, and we’ll travel more. But the last three years since my retirement have been mostly a time of adjustment. The big adventures may be over, but the small adventures will be of our own making. We went to Idaho and Montana last year. This year it may be Mount Rushmore or perhaps the Alamo and Tombstone. We’ll figure it out.

Regardless, my greatest blessing from God has been to live the last forty years of my life alongside my wonderful wife. Debbie and I are walking down the far side of the hill of life together, and we shall deal with whatever obstacles we may encounter - as we always have. After all, life is all about enjoying the good times in between the bad times.

The mission of life continues…..

Posted by:

Charles M. Grist

www.MyLastWar.com

A Hero Takes His Own Life – PTSD And Living With Ghosts

As someone who served in both Vietnam and Iraq, I have seen my share of the horrors of war. I may be sixty-four years old, but I still see the faces of my young soldiers in Vietnam like it was yesterday - the ones who lived and the ones who died.

There is an ache in my soul that is always there. But I have lived with it for so long that it has become a part of who I am. I call it “living with ghosts”; the body bags, the torn bodies, the blank faces, the jungle clearings, the crashed helicopters, the smells, the sounds….

When I was first married almost forty years ago, my wife said she would wake up in the middle of the night, and she could see my silhouette creeping through the room like I was holding a rifle on patrol. I would wander around for a while then return to bed. She said she was too scared to wake me up. My night "patrols" stopped eventually – to her great relief – but I never remembered them.

I was lucky, and I learned to cope with the bad memories even though a passing thought can bring goose bumps to my arms. Like many veterans from America's wars, I can't forget the horrors. But all men and women are made differently. Some can learn to live with the ghosts, but others cannot.

Remember my fellow warriors: It takes a warrior to ask for help. Your brothers are here for you. Seek help, contact the VA, talk to a college counselor, do something, do anything, but do not give up. You would not quit on the battlefield, so do not quit back here.

The following story is about a young captain who did his very best to help soldiers who were both psychologically and physically wounded by war. He counseled them on the battlefield, and he tried to help them heal at home. Unfortunately, his own soul’s pain was magnified by the suffering of others, and he eventually committed suicide. Like the inmate in the “Green Mile,” he took the pain of his fellow troops as if it were his own while trying to teach them how to live with what they had endured.

Don't read his story to learn how he died; read it to learn how he lived.....

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VET WHO SAVED MANY IN IRAQ COULDN’T ESCAPE DEMONS

The Blaze

March 18, 2013

He had a knack for soothing soldiers who'd just seen their buddies killed by bombs. He knew how to comfort medics sickened by the smell of blood and troops haunted by the screams of horribly burned Iraqi children.

Capt. Peter Linnerooth was an Army psychologist. He counseled soldiers during some of the fiercest fighting in Iraq. Hundreds upon hundreds sought his help. For nightmares and insomnia. For shock and grief. And for reaching that point where they just wanted to end it all.

Read more at: http://www.foxnews.com/us/2013/03/18/vet-who-saved-many-in-iraq-couldnt-escape-demons/%20?test=latestnews

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Rest brother, until your fellow warriors are with you once again….

Posted by:

Charles M. Grist

www.MyLastWar.com

                    

Life At 64 – The Adventure Continues

With Debbie in Idaho in 2012

I turn 64 today. It was suggested to me that I create a “bucket list.” I politely told the person that I didn’t need a bucket list. I’ve done just about everything I could desire to do in life.

No, it hasn’t been perfect. Whether alone or with Debbie, my wonderful wife of almost forty years, I have spent the last six plus decades walking the challenging path we call life. We have known success, failure, and success again. We have endured challenges, painful loss, and bittersweet times, but through it all we have endured with a philosophy of never giving up on life or each other.

I don’t need a bucket list. I am indeed proud to say that I managed to graduate from college, become an Army paratrooper and Ranger, serve in two wars, survive the bullets, mortars, or rockets directed at me, climb tall mountains, cross raging rivers, walk through jungles in Asia filled with both men and animals that could kill me, traverse deserts in the Middle East also filled with both men and animals that could kill me, jump out of perfectly good airplanes, ride a surfboard at dawn, scuba-dive in the ocean with sharks and in freshwater springs with alligators, survive the crash landing of an airplane, own a business, put a lot of bad guys in jail as a cop (and help a few good guys along the way), start a scholarship fund to honor a fellow police officer’s memory, write a book, live in the best country on earth, have the greatest parents and sister anyone could ask for, marry the finest woman in the world, father four beautiful children, and live to see my wonderful grandchildren. I didn't do everything right, but I hope the pluses are more than the minuses.

I have no right to ask for more than God has given me so far. I only wish to spend as much quality time with Debbie as I can. We have been blessed to retire together.

I received the following email from a good friend. We both grew up in Orlando in the fifties and sixties, and we now find ourselves on the far side of the hill of life. We don’t plan to cash in our chips any time soon, but it is easier to see the end of the game somewhere down the road:

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“Yes, I have regrets. There are things I wish I hadn't done...things I should have done, but indeed, there are many things I'm happy to have done. It's all in a lifetime.

If you're not in your winter yet, let me remind you that it will be here faster than you think. So, whatever you would like to accomplish in your life please do it quickly! Don't put things off too long! Life goes by quickly. Do what you can today, as you can never be sure whether this is your winter or not!

You have no promise that you will see all the seasons of your life, so live for today and say all the things that you want your loved ones to remember, and hope that they appreciate and love you for all the things that you have done for them in all the years past!

'Life' is a gift to you. The way you live your life is your gift to those who come after. Make it a fantastic one. Live it well, enjoy today, do something fun, be happy, travel everywhere, and have a great day. Remember that it is health that is real wealth and not pieces of gold and silver. Live happy in 2013!

Lastly, consider the following:

• Today is the oldest you’ve ever been, yet the youngest you’ll ever be, so enjoy this day while it lasts.
• Your kids are becoming you, but your grandchildren are perfect!
• Going out is good; coming home is better!
• You forget names.... But it's okay because other people forgot they even knew you!
• You realize you're never going to be really good at things like golf.
• The things you used to care to do, you no longer care to do, but you really do care that you don't care to do them anymore.
• You sleep better on a lounge chair with the TV blaring than in bed. It's called 'pre-sleep.'
• You miss the days when everything worked with just an 'ON' and 'OFF' switch.
• You tend to use more 4 letter words ... 'what?'...'when?'...
• Now that you can afford expensive jewelry, it's not safe to wear it anywhere.
• You notice everything they sell in stores is 'sleeveless.'
• What used to be freckles are now liver spots.
• Everybody whispers.
• You have 3 sizes of clothes in your closet, two of which you will never wear.
• But old is good in some things: old songs, old movies, and best of all, OLD FRIENDS!

Stay well, 'OLD FRIEND!' Send this on to other 'Old Friends!' and let them laugh in AGREEMENT!

It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived.”

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Thanks to my friend for his wisdom. Thanks to my family and friends for their support and love. Thanks to you for taking the time to read an old man’s musings.

Thanks to God for this life....

Charles M. Grist

www.MyLastWar.com

Home From The War: Army Sergeant Surprises Sons

You can never get tired of these reunion videos. Get the tissues out:

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From The Blaze:

THERE WILL BE TEARS: U.S. ARMY SGT. RETURNS HOME AFTER A YEAR IN AFGHANISTAN AND SURPRISES SONS AT SCHOOL ASSEMBLY

U.S. Army Sgt. Chris Page had been away from his two sons for roughly a year serving in Afghanistan. On Tuesday of last week, Hunter Dodd and Chandler Pittman got their dad back in a tearful reunion at a school assembly.

See the full story and the video here: http://www.theblaze.com/stories/2013/02/25/u-s-army-sgt-returns-home-after-a-year-in-afghanistan-and-surprises-sons-at-school-assembly/

You can also watch more of these great videos at the Welcome Home Blog.

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Posted by
Charles M. Grist
Author of the award-winning book My Last War: A Vietnam Veteran's Tour in Iraq

Army Staff Sergeant To Receive The Medal Of Honor

Staff Sergeant Clinton Romesha

The White House has announced that Staff Sergeant Clinton Romesha, 31, will be awarded the Medal of Honor for “acts of gallantry” during a battle for Combat Outpost Keating in Afghanistan on October 3, 2009.

A large enemy force of some three hundred fighters attacked the base with rocket-propelled grenades, machine guns, mortars and rifles. During the battle, which lasted a full day, Romesha inspired other soldiers with his courage, personal example and leadership.

He killed several enemy troops, was wounded, and still developed a plan to secure major parts of the base. Romesha exposed himself to enemy fire and continued to eliminate enemy positions. He also directed air support that resulted in the destruction of a large enemy force, and he led other soldiers forward to recover wounded and dead American troops. A total of eight Americans were killed.

According to journalist Jake Tapper in his book “The Outpost,” Romesha is “an intense guy, short and wiry.” Tapper said that Romesha was the son of a Mormon church leader.

Charles M. Grist

Author of the award-winning book My Last War: A Vietnam Veteran’s Tour in Iraq

War Veterans And PTSD

First Lieutenant Chuck Grist
Shortly before Christmas, 1970 , Northeast of Saigon

In three weeks, I will turn 64. I retired from the Army Reserve in 2009 (with service in Iraq as well as Vietnam). In 2010, I retired after twenty years as a police officer.

Back in 1970, I arrived in Vietnam as a twenty-one-year-old Army Ranger lieutenant. I would serve as an infantry platoon leader in combat where I would experience the deaths of men I knew as well as participate in the killing of the enemy soldiers who wanted to kill us.

Every day was lived on "red alert" where you were ready for something terrible to happen. When there was no action, there was the threatening silence of the jungle around you that was filled with bad guys. Who wouldn't remember most of this, no matter how long ago it happened?

Before you read the article below on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), check out this LINK to an article about the general statistics of Vietnam veterans. You will probably be surprised, and you will also learn that the guy with the work for food sign at the overpass is probably NOT a Vietnam veteran.

I encourage my fellow Vietnam veterans, my fellow post-9/11 veterans, or the veterans of any war to seek help if you need it. You are my brothers and sisters and I care about you.

No veteran of any war can escape the curse of the memories, those ghosts that often come to you in the dark of night. Some can handle the memories just fine, but others cannot.

As a poster in the local Veteran's Administration clinic says, "It takes the strength of a warrior to ask for help."

The following article from Stars and Stripes talks about retiring Vietnam veterans like me and the possibility that PTSD might rise from the shadows even forty years after the war:

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Retirement might unleash PTSD symptoms in Vietnam veterans

By Leo Shane III
Stars and Stripes
June 20, 2012

WASHINGTON — It took Sam Luna more than 35 years to get treatment for his post-traumatic stress disorder.

“I didn’t realize anything was wrong,” the combat-wounded Vietnam veteran said. “I thought I had adjusted well after I came back. I had a job, I had a family, everything looked great from the outside.”

But shortly after he retired in 2004, his anxiety attacks and stress levels increased. A trip to his local Veterans Affairs hospital triggered war memories. The former soldier started to notice the hair-trigger temper his wife had complained about for years.

He found himself thinking more often about the war — and the friends he lost.

“It was like I had a black box on the mantel for years, but I could ignore it when I left for work every day,” he said. “When I retired, it was still sitting there, waiting for me.”

Mental health experts say that kind of delayed trauma isn’t unusual. Major life events such as retirement often trigger personal reassessment and forgotten memories.

But for Vietnam veterans who returned decades ago to a harsh reception and limited mental health options, that could mean a new wave of stress and serious psychological issues as their generation enters retirement age.

The average age of a Vietnam vet is 65 years old. More than 5 million of the nation’s more than 7 million Vietnam-era veterans are between 60 and 70 years old, according to data from the National Center for Veterans Analysis and Statistics.

An additional 1 million are expected to turn 60 within the next five years.

“A lot of people coped with the traumatic experiences in war by throwing themselves into work when they got home,” said Tom Berger, director of the health council at Vietnam Veterans of America. “Now, after being a workaholic for 40 years, they suddenly don’t have that structure in their life anymore. I expect there will be more and more folks seeking out help for those issues.”

But Berger and other veterans advocates worry that if there is a flood of new cases, the already struggling VA mental health system won’t be able to handle it.

In retrospect, Luna said, his PTSD should have been obvious.

His wife, Gloria, said after he returned from Vietnam, the 22-year-old soldier never spoke about the war or his injury. He punched walls when he got angry. He stewed in silence over things that caused him stress, and he lashed out at her and their children when it became too much.

“I knew he was different, but I figured that just happens when men come back from war,” she said.

For his part, Luna said he just “forgot” everything he saw overseas. He blocked out the stress of patrols in hostile areas, the men who got hit by sniper fire and the snare trap that shot a wooden spike through his right leg.

Once he was well enough to do so, he found work with the Texas criminal justice system as a probation officer and threw himself into his career.

“I just didn’t want to deal with that stuff,” he said. “I didn’t think there was anything I needed to deal with.”

John Edwards, a rifleman who was entering Vietnam the same year Luna was leaving, said he saw the same pattern in his war experience. After two years of violent scenes and close calls, he just wanted to return home to a “normal” life. He found success in a series of technology firms. He was diagnosed only recently — more than 40 years after his return — with PTSD.

“I didn’t feel right, and someone told me I should go in [to the VA] and talk with someone,” he said. “It wasn’t about getting benefits for me. It was about getting help.”

He’s getting that help now. Berger said it’s a common story heard by those at Vietnam Veterans of America, one that shows the need for mental health services for all ages.

But he worries an influx of cases like his could overburden the VA medical system.

“They just don’t have the resources to handle that,” he said.

Last year, more than 476,000 veterans received treatment for PTSD from VA hospitals and clinics, up dramatically from about 272,000 in fiscal 2006.

Iraq and Afghanistan veterans make up a large portion of that increase but still account for only about one-fifth of all PTSD patients. More than half of the new cases come from earlier wars.

In response to the demand, VA officials have added almost 7,000 new mental health specialists in the last six years. But in April, the VA inspector general sharply criticized department officials for overly optimistic estimates on wait times for mental health appointments.

Fewer than half of patients requesting an initial evaluation were seen within two weeks, and many facilities took months to schedule even basic visits.

VA officials have promised changes, vowing to hire 1,600 new mental health professionals nationwide and to fill 1,500 existing open positions across the country.

Dr. Matthew Friedman, executive director of the VA’s National Center for PTSD, said officials haven’t begun preparing for a wave of retiring Vietnam veterans seeking mental health care.

In the past, they have issued alerts around anniversaries or other large public events that might trigger war flashbacks — when the movie “Saving Private Ryan” was released, for example — about the possibility of new patients, but studies haven’t shown a significant jump in therapy visits following those markers.

“But anecdotally, I can tell you I’ve seen a lot of veterans [following notable dates or events] who just want to talk informally with someone,” he said. “We know anniversaries are important, and they evoke a lot of memories.”

The Defense Department last month launched its 50th anniversary commemoration of the Vietnam War, pushing those veterans’ experiences and memories to the forefront again.

Barbara Van Dahlen, founder of the nonprofit counseling organization Give an Hour, said the combination of that and the veterans’ ages create a “perfectly normal” situation for mental health issues to resurface.

“I don’t want to suggest that all of these veterans will need professional help,” she said. “But it’s a situation where the memories and the emotions are bubbling up. For some, it’ll be a conversation with their children or their wife, sharing things they wanted to before didn’t feel like they could. Some will need more help. The important thing to know is that it’s normal and important to address those issues, and not just to shove it away again.”

Veterans of Foreign Wars deputy director Gerald Manar, a Vietnam veteran, noted that he saw more visitors to the Vietnam Wall on Memorial Day last month. It wasn’t just veterans either, he said. Many families were there, asking questions and listening to stories.

“Vietnam veterans were slapped with a lot of unfair labels when they came home,” Manar said. “Millions went off to war, served with distinction and honor, and then came back to be major contributors to the middle class. But that doesn’t mean they dealt with everything.”

Friedman said from a treatment perspective, the age or combat era of a mental health patient doesn’t really matter.

“PTSD is PTSD,” he said, noting that recent advances in treating younger vets can be easily translated to older generations.

Luna, who is in counseling with the VA to deal with his PTSD, works with Vets’ Journey Home Texas, running weekend therapy retreats for veterans of all eras. They mainly work with younger veterans, in the hopes they can deal with their war traumas more quickly and more definitively than the older generations. But he said he’s also started hearing from a large number of Vietnam veterans who have just retired.

Said Luna: “America has no idea what the Vietnam vets are still going through.”

shanel@stripes.osd.mil
Twitter: @LeoShane

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Charles M. Grist
Author of the award-winning book My Last War: A Vietnam Veteran's Tour in Iraq

Navy SEAL Sniper Chris Kyle Murdered – Authored The Best-Selling Book “American Sniper”

Navy SEAL Chris Kyle

The most lethal sniper in American history, Chris Kyle, has been murdered in Texas while helping an ex-soldier suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Kyle and another man were shot and killed.

Chris was a former Navy SEAL and the bestselling author of the book “American Sniper: The Autobiography of the Most Lethal Sniper in U.S.Military History.” He was killed at the Rough Creek Lodge gun range in Texas on Saturday.

The suspect, Eddie Ray Routh, allegedly stole Kyle’s car and fled the scene. He was captured by police after a pursuit and after he rammed a police vehicle. He will be charged with murder.

Kyle served four tours of duty in Iraq. He also had 160 kills as a Navy SEAL, according to NBC DFW reports.  According to the Stephenville Empire-Tribune, his longest successful shot was to take out an insurgent with a rocket launcher 2,100 yards away.

Kyle was also known for his confrontation with Jesse Ventura when he said he punched Ventura in the face.

Chris Kyle was married and the father of two.

When interviewed by Guns.com, here is what Kyle had to say about Obama's proposed gun control measures and other issues:

Our thoughts and prayers go out to Chris’s family, friends, and fellow warriors.

Charles M. Grist

Author of the award-winning book My Last War: A Vietnam Veteran’s Tour in Iraq

The Extraordinary Story of Medal Of Honor Recipient Roy Benavidez

Master Sergeant Roy P. Benavidez

The following video was sent to me by a fellow Vietnam veteran. I knew about Green Beret medic Roy Benavidez, but I never knew the details of his unbelievable valor in combat. Benavidez died in 1998.

Please take a couple of minutes to learn about a real American hero. This guy makes Rambo look like a Boy Scout:



Direct link to video:  

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=RZ7968BbMnU&vq=medium

I hope you will share this with your friends.

Charles M. Grist
Author of the award-winning book My Last War: A Vietnam Veteran's Tour in Iraq

Panetta Approves Women In Combat But They Are Already There

As an old Army infantryman, I never supported the idea of sharing a foxhole with a woman. War is supposed to be men’s work. As Steve Martin once joked about outdoor activities, “Manly men doing manly things in a manly way with other manly men.”

When I became a police officer a couple of decades ago, I also had similar feelings about women as cops. Then came a zone partner I’ll refer to as “Bev.”

The call was a fight in progress. I arrived first to see two black men facing off with martial arts weapons. One was armed with a bow i.e. a long stick; the other had a pair of martial arts weapons called sai i.e. foot and a half long steel sword-like weapons.  There was also a large crowd of about twenty people watching the confrontation.

When I arrived, I was the only cop there. I drew my handgun and ordered the two men to drop their weapons. The man with the bow immediately dropped it and backed away with his hands in the air. The other man, who was wearing only a pair of shorts, looked at me with an enraged glare, turned toward me, and took up a fighting stance, holding the sai in each hand in front of him. He was sweating, his neck muscles were pulsating, and every other muscle in his body was taught.

I looked into his eyes and told him to drop the weapons. I also said that if he took one step toward me, I was going to shoot him. He didn’t move and only continued to stare into my eyes.

Just then, the man’s mother ran into the scene, wrapped her arms around her son and said, “Don’t shoot my baby!” At that moment, he lowered both of his arms. I suddenly caught a flash of blue out of my left eye. “Bev” came out of the shadows toward the man’s right side, knocking the weapons out of his hands.

I quickly holstered my handgun and joined the fray. During the struggle, the mother struck Bev in the face and the single fight became two fights. After a couple of minutes, I managed to handcuff the man, and Bev handcuffed the woman. The incident was over with no serious injuries to anyone, largely because of Bev’s quick and fearless maneuver.

Bev’s actions that day, along with another female officer who later helped me subdue a six foot seven inch, three hundred pound domestic violence suspect, convinced me that a woman could handle anything in the police world.

I still had reservations about women in combat until my service in the Iraq war and the story of Leigh Ann Hester of the 617^th Military Police Company.

On March 20, 2005, Hester was awarded the Silver Star, the nation’s third highest award for valor, following her actions during an enemy ambush on a supply convoy near Salman Pak, Iraq.

Hester’s MP squad was escorting a convoy when about fifty insurgents initiated an ambush with AK 47s, machine guns, and rocket-propelled grenades.

Hester led her fire team into a flanking position. From there, she and her squad leader, Staff Sergeant Timothy Nein, assaulted the enemy trench line with hand grenades, an M203 grenade launcher and M4 carbines. Hester herself killed at least three enemy troops. At the end of the battle, twenty-seven insurgents were killed, six were wounded and one was captured.

Hester was later awarded the Silver Star. Squad leader Nein eventually received the Distinguished Service Cross.

The moral of both these stories is that women are capable of fighting in war as well as on the streets of America. Just look at the women who serve courageously in the Israeli Army, as well as the American women who fly Apache helicopters and F16’s into combat.

Although times have changed, I still believe that women in the infantry will prove to be problematic. In harsh environments like the jungle or the desert, hygiene, privacy, potential male-female relationships, and natural physical limitations will likely be significant issues. And I’m sorry, but I’ll be terribly sad if they allow women in the Rangers, Special Forces, SEALs, or other special operations forces.

Leon Panetta has opened the door for women to join all military units that are subject to service in combat, and we should acknowledge that women are hardy souls who can possess just as much courage and determination as men – sometimes more.

But women in the infantry? Let’s just say this old soldier is glad he’s retired….

Charles M. Grist
Author of the award-winning book My Last War: A Vietnam Veteran's Tour in Iraq

‘Twas The Night Before a Soldier’s Christmas

A Christmas poem courtesy of Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt:

‘Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,

In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.

I had come down his chimney with presents to give,

And to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,

No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,

And on the wall pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,

A sobering thought came to my mind.

For this house was different, so dark and so dreary,

The home of a soldier, now I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,

Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.

The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,

Not how I pictured a United States soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?

Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realized the families that I saw this night,

Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.

Soon around the world, the children would play,

And grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,

Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,

On a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home.

The very thought brought a tear to my eye,

I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,

“Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice;

I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,

My life is my God, my country, my corps.”

The soldier rolled over and soon drifted to sleep,

I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,

And we both shivered from the cold evening’s chill.

I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark night,

This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,

Whispered, “Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas day, all is secure.”

One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.

“Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.”

Merry Christmas to all of America’s warriors throughout the world. Thank you for making it possible for us to enjoy our holiday in peace and safety…

Charles M. Grist

Author of the award-winning book My Last War: A Vietnam Veteran's Tour in Iraq