After action report - Pawnee City, Nebraska.

Went to a reenactment this past weekend in Pawnee City, Nebraska. It was small and not based on any actual battle in the area but I hadn't been out all year and was missing the wool. Mrs. Spiff and the three youngsters went along as well. The event was sponsored by the local museum and took place on the grounds and adjacent property.

We left home on Friday afternoon around 4:00. The drive was only about three hours but took a little longer due to some stops for provisions. Nice to have that short of a trip. On our arrival there were few reenactors (a permanent situation) and much confusion. After attempting to register as per instructions we were told that there was no Friday night registration. The registration took place on Saturday morning, a bit awkward.

First order of business was to get Mrs. Spiff and the family set up. We located the civilian camp and got the tent set up and gear unloaded with no problem. While the setting was less than authentic, the civilian camp offered a nice location for camping.

A short drive into the boondocks brought us to the C.S. camp. I was able to quickly locate my company and begin unloading. As we were doing this the rain that had been falling off and on began again. Fast movement prevented any significant wetting of my bedding. The rain continued most of the night but all stayed dry. A quick shower the next morning would be the last of the rain for the weekend.

Reveille sounded before sunup on Saturday. After dodging the brief shower we lined up for roll-call. That done, breakfast was attended to with rapidity before morning parade. Following parade I was assigned to picket duty. That was uneventful save for a brief encounter with an arrogant cavalry civilian. After getting relieved on picket I was able to get a pass to go up to the civilian camp and check on everyone. Things seemed to be going well and all were surviving. Bug appeared to be enjoying her first event as she crawled around and looked at grass and leaves. Spiff Jr. and Sis being the veterans they are were having a ball. Had lunch while I was up to visit.

Spent the early afternoon practicing for some hand-to-hand combat centered around a Union gun. Took a few takes but we got it down. The fight went well and the hand-to-hand went as planned. A couple of the guys who watched said it looked pretty good.

Following the battle we cleaned up and relaxed for awhile. Then came some dinner and a visit to town. After that I again visited the civilian camp and chatted with the family for awhile before bidding them good night and heading back to camp. A late night offensive was contemplated by command and we were told to prepare before bed. I did so but the movement was inexplicably called off. Slept soundly.

Awoke Sunday morning to a crash of gunfire. Surprise attack and Billy Yank was on the offensive. Scrambled out of bed and into line as we got them stopped just short of the camp. Managed to push them back to their camp and outflank them to gain the edge of their camp before a truce was called. Great skirmish and well played by the Blue-bellies. Somewhat surprising to find them so aggressive.

Following the fight we returned to camp for breakfast. I then packed out some of my gear before church call. Attended a mutual service in the museum chapel. Good sermon. C.S., U.S., civilians, and spectators all present. Nice.

Walked the family back to their tent after the service and then returned to camp. Packed out the rest of my gear. Battle at 1:00 p.m. Not quite as impressive as the first day. We were supposed to repeat the hand-to-hand but never got the chance. Got whipped badly.

No trouble at all getting out of the event. Packed up pretty quickly and hit the road. Faster trip home with fewer stops.

Overall it was a fun little event that I would like to repeat is possible. The forces were small but the setup was acceptable and the powder ration did much to make up for any shortfalls. For its size it was well done and well attended by the public.

Don't forget.

I still remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard about the planes flying into the World Trade Center. I pray that everyone will always remember that day and those who died.

To drive a big red truck.

I was getting ready for work the other night and visiting with Spiff Jr. as I did so. We often do that when I am working third shift, me preparing to start my day and he winding his down. During these times I get the scoop on the latest happenings in the world of a four year old. Sometimes he surprises me.

On this particular evening he made an announcement as he put his toothbrush away and headed out the bathroom door. He knew what he was going to do when he got older. "I'm going to be a firefighter Dad, because they don't have to work night shift." He then trotted off down the hall to his room.

I smiled. Partially because he used the word "firefighter" rather than "fireman". Partially because I know that the fire-dancers do work third shift, in a manner of speaking. At least they get to sleep through their nights if no calls come in.

As I walked into my bedroom, my wife went to tuck the kiddos in. I heard Spiff Jr. repeat his new found direction in life. His mother was practical and let him know that firefighters do work nights. This perplexed him. He thought for a minute. "Well, are there any emergency vehicles that don't work night shift?" None, came the answer. "Why not?" People need help at night too. This satisfied him. He was still not as sure as to his life's calling as he had been but was able to get to sleep with the comfort of knowing that there is really a reason for night shift.

Game changer.

Yesterday was the tenth anniversary of the Columbine school shooting in Littleton, Colorado. Hard to believe is has already been ten years since that event that changed so many things. Many who are more literary than I have already paid tribute to those who died and survived there. I'll settle for a quick thought on the day.

Barely a week or two go by that I don't think about Columbine. I wasn't involved and don't know anyone who was, but it still impacted me. I remember exactly where I was when I first learned of the tragedy.

I was sitting in an Applebee's with about five or six academy classmates. We were celebrating the survival of an exam and were in good spirits. With six months experience I was perhaps the most seasoned cop in the group and that isn't saying much. As we laughed and joked someone suddenly said, "Hey, what's that?" Looking up to the TV mounted near the ceiling we saw swat officers moving cautiously behind a firetruck. The crawl across the bottom announced that the footage was live from Littleton. We embryonic coppers were transfixed by any swat team anywhere and continued to watch. The story unfolded over the course of dinner and we caught the full impact by the time we finished. Sobered, we sat there trying to absorb what this meant. One of the other members of the group summed it all up as we left, "It's now a different game than we signed up to play when we started."

Spring.

Spring has finally sprung and boy am I glad. It always seems to me that Spring doesn't really start until Easter weekend, regardless of what the calender says.

In addition to baseball, the weather is getting warmer. I sure am glad to get out of the arctic temps that we "enjoyed" this last winter. I like my job but the whole working out in the elements sure gets old sometimes.

Spiff Jr. and Sis are pretty glad as well I think. Time to play outdoors again. Picking dandelions, throwing balls for the dogs, and swinging are the current rages among the younger set. Mrs. Spiff is enjoying having the kiddos out of the house as well.

To Troll or not to Troll...

About a week ago I received an email notice that one of my posts had received a comment. Since such notices are few, I immediately logged on to see what had been said. The post was one of my political ones so I was prepared for disagreement or agreement. After all, robust debate is part of our political system.

I was not quite prepared for what I found. An anonymous user who identified herself (I take their word for their gender) as "Lynore" had taken umbrage at my views on abortion. While that is not unusual, what struck me was the way she went about expressing her views. In an opening comment she dragged out the moth-eaten line that I cannot have or express an opinion on abortion simply because of my gender. She then accused me of being simple-minded and obsessed with women's breasts. Strange way of expressing one's views. I responded. She answered none of my points, confused the abortion debate with the war in Iraq, and accused me of being judgemental. Very odd way of discussing any issue.

Following that, she left comments on several of my other posts. She brought up issues that were not in my posts, implied that I do not understand my job and lack sufficient training to do it and said that I "scared" her. In addition, she went after a previous comment left by a reader who does not post on this blog.

All of this left me wondering, is "Lynore" a true believer in the far left, or a Troll trying to stir up hate and discontent? Is there any difference?

Book review - The Steel Wave.

Finished reading The Steel Wave this morning. This is the latest in a series written by Jeff Shaara and brings the series up through the D-Day landings in Normandy.

Mr. Shaara started writing this series after the production of the movie Gettysburg, which was based on his father's book, Killer Angels. He first finished the Civil War and then went back to Revolution. Two books on the revolution and one on the Mexican War bring the series to the three books on the Civil War. After that is one one WW1 and, so far, two on WW2. Officially labeled as historical fiction, the series is very close to a historical rendering of events.

I have found all of Mr. Shaara's work to be excellent and The Steel Wave is no exception. Once again, war is viewed through the eyes of those who fight it. From Eisenhower, Patton, and Rommel, to the fictional characters in the enlisted ranks; each has their own story and unique vantage point. They all have different motives and ideas about fighting the war.

While the Allied players are perhaps more familiar, I found Rommel to be particularly intriguing. Historians have long debated whether he knew about the Holocaust and his exact involvement in the plot to assassinate Hitler. Shaara has apparently concluded from his research that Rommel knew little of the plot and was only beginning to become aware that something was dreadfully wrong in the treatment of the Jews. Trapped by his perceived duty to obey but nagged by his conscience, Rommel is torn as to a course of action. In the end he does nothing but still cannot escape. In one passage he asks himself about the world that his son will inherit because nobody had the courage to say no to Hitler earlier. He then asks himself if anyone has the courage now. He leaves the question unanswered.

In summary, Mr. Shaara has again lived up to the high bar he has set for himself in his previous work. The Steel Wave is a must read for any history buff, those interested in human psychology, and everyone who appreciates a ripping good yarn. You would do yourself a favor though to start with the founding of the nation and the beginning of the series.