Heroism

"No way was I going to let this brave old Marine who fought for his country in WWII get buried in Potter's Field."

Sometimes heroism does not arise from conflict in the physical realm. Sometimes it arises from the soul.

Go here to read about the heroism of Susan Porcello.

Hat tip to Sailor Bob.

A Last Salute

Out of respect for LCdr Roy Boehm's last wishes, I will simply say thank you.

Godspeed MSP Trooper 2

Around 11:10 pm Saturday September 27th, 2008, Trooper 2 responded to Waldorf, Maryland. The mission was to transport two car crash victims to Prince George's Hospital Center's trauma unit. After lifting off from the scene with three crew members and two patients on board, the pilot contacted the tower at Andrews Air Force Base requesting assistance with an instrument landing due to weather. Two ambulances were dispatched to the airfield to meet the helicopter and complete the patient transports. The helicopter never arrived. According to National Transportation Safety Board member Debbie Hersman, between the time the helicopter left its hanger at Andrews Air Force Base and when it was back in the same area, heading to the hospital, visibility had dropped from about seven miles to four miles. In that same hour, the cloud cover, or ceiling, went from 1300 feet to as low as 200 feet in some spots. An intense search began and the helicopter was found crashed in a heavily wooded area at 2AM. Killed in the crash were Pilot Stephen Bunker, Trooper/Medic First Class Mickey Lippy, EMT-B Tonya Mallard of the Waldorf Volunteer Fire Department and Ashley Younger, a 17-year-old who was the second victim from the Waldorf car accident.

I will fix you.

Secretariat

It was going to be a tough case. "Don't worry, we have enough dope to put down Secretariat," I said.

After the case was over, and the patient in recovery, one of my scrubs inquired......."What's a secretariat?"

Could it be? How is it that Secretariat is unknown to the younger generation? Voted one of the top 50 athletes of the twentieth century by ESPN, Secretariat was like no other. Here is the American hero of 1973, the one who gave us inspiration through Watergate, the one who gave us hope after Wounded Knee, and the one who gave us solace during the end game of Vietnam. For those readers too young to remember Secretariat, here he is in all his majesty.

Randy Pausch, Last Lecture

Randy Pausch died this morning. This video of his last lecture is long, but worth it.

A Dad

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.

Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. On a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.
This love story began in Winchester , Mass. , 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

"He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. ``Put him in an institution.''

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. ``No way,'' Dick says he was told. ``There's nothing going on in his brain.''

"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain. Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? ``Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, ``Dad, I want To do that.''

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described ``porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. ``Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. ``I was sore for two weeks.''

That day changed Rick's life. ``Dad,'' he typed, ``when we were running, It felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''

And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

``No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, ``Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''

How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.

Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? ``No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for ``the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

``No question about it,'' Rick types. ``My dad is the Father of the Century.''

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. ``If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' One doctor told him, ``you probably would've died 15 years ago.'' So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass. , always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.

``The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, ``is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''

From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly

More about Team Hoyt

Ohio Cross Awarded To Robert Bragg

Ohio Governor Ted Strickland has presented the Ohio Cross to Staff Sergeant Robert Bragg for his actions in capturing two murderers on August 21, 2007, in his hometown of Dayton Ohio. The Ohio Cross may be awarded to any member of the State of Ohio military forces (National Guard or Reserves) who distinguishes himself/herself by gallantry and selfless service at the risk of his/her life. The Ohio Cross is the only award that must be presented by the Governor or the Adjutant General, in the name of the Governor. The Ohio Cross was established on Sept. 7, 1995. Bragg is the ninth person to be decorated.

In more than four years as a military police officer at the Springfield Air National Guard Base, Robert Bragg had never been forced to draw a weapon on anybody. "This is something special," Bragg said prior to the ceremony. Speaking of the two men who were murdered by the criminals Bragg helped apprehend, "As far as the pain, it doesn't make it any easier."

Roger Covault, 70, and Robert T. Harris, 53, were murdered during a robbery of the Covault Market and Coin Laundry near Bragg's home. He saw two men wearing ski masks run out of the laundry and towards his home. Robert Bragg armed himself with his sidearm and intercepted them. You can read the full story here. Bragg still resides at the same address, and is reminded daily of the events. "It's hard for me to even look down that end of the street. It's still very real," he explained.

Thank You.

Charleton Heston has died. Thank you, for all you did.

MOH Recipient Petty Officer 2nd Class Michael A. Monsoor

Arlington, Va. — The grenade hit him in the chest and bounced to the ground. Petty Officer 2nd Class Michael A. Monsoor could have gotten out of harm’s way before it went off, but three other Navy SEALs and eight Iraqi soldiers could not, according to Monsoor’s Navy biography. So Monsoor, 25, dove on the grenade to shield the others from the blast.

Because of his quick thinking, the other SEALs and Iraqi soldiers survived after the grenade exploded, but Monsoor did not. He died 30 minutes later. On Monday, the White House announced that Monsoor would receive the Medal of Honor for his actions on Sept. 29, 2006, in Ramadi, Iraq. His parents, George and Sally Monsoor, will receive the medal on his behalf at an April 8 ceremony at the White House, according to the Navy.

Monsoor embodied the “SEAL ethos,” said the head of Naval Special Warfare Command in San Diego said in a Navy news release.

“He led by example and protected his teammates to the very end,” said Rear Adm. Joseph Kernan in the news release. “But more than that, Mike was a brother in our family. We will honor him every day by upholding the values he shared with us as SEALs.”

During his tour in Iraq, Monsoor served as a heavy weapons machine gunner for his platoon and a SEAL communicator, according to his biography. On 15 operations, he carried his communications gear, machine gun and ammunition, weighing more than 100 pounds. “He bore the weight without a single complaint, even the midst of the 130 degree Western Iraqi summer,” his biography said.

Monsoor had previously been awarded the Silver Star for rescuing another SEAL who had been shot in the leg in May 2006. “He ran out into the street with another SEAL, shot cover fire and dragged his comrade to safety while enemy bullets kicked up the concrete at their feet,” his biography said. Monsoor will become the fourth servicemember — each killed in the line of duty — to receive the nation’s highest military award for the war on terrorism.

By Jeff Schogol, Stars and Stripes

The Heart of a Champion

"It is not enough that we do our best. Sometimes we must do what is required." Those words of Winston Churchill resonated with Little Darling this morning, after I gave her my "Rocky" speech. Little Darling had decided to enter a track meet a couple of weeks ago. She signed up for the 400 meter run, thinking it was half the track that ran around the football stadium.

Little Darling had fallen in love with running last year when she saw that she could out pace every girl, and almost every boy in her class. The one boy who could keep up with her became her friend, but her parochial school still did not have a track team. Two weeks ago, at a parent/faculty meeting, it became apparent that some well heeled parents, upset over the six man football team, were prepared to pull their children out of school the following year due to the lack of sports. Suddenly, a track team was thrown together and the accidental coach entered them into a track meet. Little Darling was ecstatic.

Each day after school, we rode our bikes to the stadium to prepare. I coached her, telling her that she only had to beat one person.......the person in front. I instructed her to stay on that person's heels, to put pressure on them, to wear them out. I instructed her to not try to pass them, to hold a reserve of strength until she entered the home stretch. Then, I told her.......smoke 'em. She really did not get the picture, so last night, to illustrate what I meant by holding a reserve I ran against her. I let her lead for most of the race. I had to. I had not run in years. I stayed on her heels though, and when I felt I could finish, I reached down into that pit of strength that is reserved for old bald headed men and I showed her the folly of staying out in front. It's not, I told her, who starts in front, but rather who finishes in front. I hurt all day today from that lesson.

Still, when I got off work, I headed to the track meet. The rag tag group of Episcopal girls had to share jerseys, swapping them out between heats. They were competing against three schools with established track teams. The relays were especially telling, with the other teams handing off the batons like professionals, while the Episcopal girls passed the baton like notes in class. When Little Darling found me, she told me the 400 meter was not half the track, but an entire lap. She had solved the problem though, by transferring over to the 200 meter dash.

As I sat in the stands, I tested my camera. Dead batteries.....Damn. I did not let her know. I pulled out my cell phone. Little Darling lined up against five lanky but conditioned girls. They wore their school colors. Little Darling could not get one of her friends to give up a communal jersey, so she wore her school uniform shirt. With a shot from a starter's pistol, they were off. The lead two girls quickly out paced the rest. Obvious training was their forte. They ran like cats pursued by wolves. There was no catching them. Little Darling came in fourth.

I stayed in the stands, dreading her thoughts. Had I hurt her this morning, with my talk of winning against a stacked deck of cards? Would she think I was disappointed? Angry even? Thankfully, I had gotten a photo with my cell phone. Yet, she did not leave the field. She stayed at the runner's benches.

Finally, it was time for the last event, the girls 400 meter relay. I saw Little Darling put on a blue jersey. She had never run 400 meters. Oh my Gawd. The first wave was off and running with a bang from the starter's pistol, and again, the Episcopal girls were quickly out classed. After each lap and baton exchange, they were left farther and farther behind. Finally, as the fourth and last relay runner, Little Darling entered the lanes. When she accepted the baton, she was a quarter lap behind the girl in front of her. She took off like I had never seen her run. I was standing, cheering, fists in the air. Please God.........Just let her finish. Don't let my girl run out of gas. Don't let her give out. Just let her go the distance.......She was running back to back races. She was the anchor. She had never before run this distance.

The winner finished as Little Darling entered the back stretch. I looked to see my girl keeping her pace, gathering speed. Hang on Darling......Hang on.......Keep coming.......Her stride lengthened. She rounded the corner red faced, her hair a blur behind her. And then........She opened the throttle. She poured on the gas. She lit the fires of desire and reached down to that place that all Champions possess. When she could breathe no more, she stopped breathing. But she kept running. Faster.....Faster.......Ever faster to what she thought was the finish line, dead last. She saw and heard her friends cheering, and she slowed and stopped. The finish line.......Was five strides away. Crap! She took off again and leaped across it.

She was a bit upset with herself when she came walking up to me, unsure of what Daddy's response would be. She told me the girl who was supposed to run the relay had left early. Someone had to run it. She had come in last. She thought she had failed.

No. Darling, this morning, we talked about winning races and champions. We talked about coming from behind and smoking the competition. We talked about confidence and desire. We talked about Rocky and going the distance. Darling, I am here to tell you that you did win. You are a winner. You did not just do your best, you did so much more. You did what was required.........And that, my dear, is what is in the heart of a Champion. And you, sweet girl, are a Champion and my hero.

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

In Memoriam

Rest in peace Officer Randal Simmons

Godspeed Officer James Veenstra

Story

Ray Chapman is Gone

Ray Chapman, one of the fathers of modern pistol craft, 79, of Dallas, formerly of Columbia, Texas passed away Saturday, Feb. 2, 2008.

All who know him will miss his loyal friendship, his honest, bluff way of expression, his sense of humor and his bright, smiling blue eyes. He was a true gentleman, and the best friend a person could hope for.

"Shooting well is simple," said Ray, "it just isn’t easy." It is Ray Chapman's teaching that I rely on any time I pull a trigger on a pistol. He will be missed.

Memorial contributions may be made to Second Amendment Foundation.

Soar in Peace

Suzanne Pleshette

Jeanne Assam's Story

You never know when it's going to happen. Violence will never be removed from human society. Even if all firearms were banned, violence will still erupt. Vermin who seek to force their will on others, or to inform the world of their pathetic and pathological pleas for attention as they remove themselves from their own misery, will need to be dealt with. They will need to be dealt with swiftly, surely, and with the greatest of regard towards the safety of those whom they threaten.

Jeanne Assam may not have thought it was her day to be called upon as she got ready to go to Sunday service in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Never the less, she armed herself with her handgun. Jeanne Assam was granted a concealed carry permit by her state government, a right to self preservation that should be indisputably guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution. Over the years, this right had been eroded by ill guided thinking and politics, but in the past decade the right to keep and bear arms had made a resurgence. Jeanne Assam took advantage of new laws that gave her greater options to defend her own life as well as the lives of others. Because she is a community oriented individual, Jeanne Assam also was willing to place her life at risk to prevent the killing of innocents.

Twelve hours earlier, Matthew Murray had slain two people at a missionary training center, Youth with a Mission, sixty five miles away. Murray was still at large. Ms. Assam was aware of that fact, but that is not why she carried a gun. Jeanne Assam may have strapped a Glock under her jacket. She may have placed a .38 snubbie into her purse. The handgun and her mode of carry really does not matter. Ms. Assam says she was weak from a three day religious fast as she left her home on December 9, for the New Life Church. She had not slept since learning of the previous shootings. She was not weak though. She was not armed with only a handgun. She was armed with the will to use the handgun in the defense of herself and others. Her body may have felt weak, but her conviction and determination was resolute. Along with the pistol, that would be enough.

The wolf violently invaded the flock before Jeanne Assam arrived on the scene. Stephanie and Rachael Works lay dying. Their father, David Works, and Judy Purcell were wounded. A Vietnam combat veteran, Larry Bourbonnais, had found himself unarmed facing the murderer's fury. Two armed security guards, with guns drawn, were frozen, facing an unchecked killer, not acting. Bourbonnais pleaded with one of the men to relinquish his firearm so that a man with the will to kill might be able to persevere against overwhelming and deadly force. The armed man did not respond, continuing to hold a drawn handgun on a frenzied psychopath as though it were some talisman against evil.

Armed only with words, Mr. Bourbonnais used what he had. "First, I called him 'Coward' then I called him 'Shithead.' I probably shouldn't have been saying that in church," said Mr. Bourbonnais told the Denver Post. The gunman turned his assault on Bourbonnais, who survived only by finding concealment behind a non-metaphorical hollow, decorative pillar. Bourbonnais was struck in the arm.

Then another pillar appeared. Not a decorative one, this pillar was a pillar of immutable strength. Jeanne Assam entered the church hallway, approaching the deranged killer, demanding that he surrender....Now. The wolf turned a handgun on the approaching sheepdog. He managed to fire off three shots. Jeanne Assam responded with conviction and courageous determination to live and save others from death as she continued to close on the killer, firing off shot after shot into his body, emptying her gun and putting an end to his bloody rampage.

"I saw him, it seemed like the halls cleared out, and I saw him coming through the doors, and I took cover. I waited for him to get closer, I came out of cover, and I identified myself. I engaged him and I took him down," Jeanne Assam said modestly at a news conference in the Colorado Springs police station. "I didn't think it was my sole responsibility. I didn't think about this. It was, it seemed like it was, me, the gunman and God."

"I didn't run away, and I didn't think for a minute to run away. I just knew that I was given the assignment to end this before it got too much worse," she said. "I just prayed for the Holy Spirit to guide me. I said, 'Holy Spirit, be with me.' My hands weren't even shaking. Honestly, I was very focused, and it was chaotic and it was so loud. I'll never forget the gunshots. It was so loud. I was just focused and I knew I wasn't going to wait for him to do any further damage. I just knew what I had to do."

Sgt. Jeff Johnson of the Colorado Springs Police Department reported that Matthew Murray was carrying two handguns, a rifle, and close to 1,000 rounds of ammunition. He obviously had plans. Investigators have said that Murray, 24, may have, in fact, died of a self inflicted gunshot wound. Autopsies should be cold and clinical things, based on factual evidence and removed from the shifting sands of human interaction. That is well and good. Murray may have brought about his own end. It is indisputable, however, that his killing spree was brought to an abrupt halt by a woman with steel determination, the will to to preserve lives, and a handgun.



George Orwell once said: "People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf." Sometimes the sheepdog is neither rough, nor a man. That is as it should be. Introduce a woman to shooting today. The life she saves may be your own.

Syd's thoughts
Ahab's thoughts
Justin's thoughts
Deb's thoughts
Michelle's thoughts

Jumping the Pearly Gates

Forty years ago, while in Las Vegas, Nevada, to watch Dick Tiger fight a middleweight title fight, Evel Knievel first saw the fountains at Caesar's Palace and decided to jump them. To get an audience with the casino's CEO Jay Sarno, Knievel created a fictitious corporation called Evel Knievel Enterprises and three fictitious lawyers to make phone calls to Sarno. Knievel also placed phone calls to Sarno claiming to be from ABC-TV and Sports Illustrated inquiring about the jump. Sarno finally agreed to meet Knievel and the deal was set for Knievel to jump the fountains on December 31, 1967. After the deal was set, Knievel tried to get ABC to air the event live on Wide World of Sports. ABC declined, but said that if Knievel had the jump filmed and it was as spectacular as he said it would be, they would consider using it later.



Knievel used his own money to have actor/director John Derek produce a film of the Caesar's jump. To keep costs low, Derek used his then-wife, Linda Evans, as one of the camera operators. It was Evans who filmed Knievel's famous landing. On the morning of the jump, Knievel stopped in the casino and placed a single $100 dollar bet on the blackjack table, which he lost, stopped by the bar and got a shot of Wild Turkey and then headed outside where he was joined by several members of the Caesar's staff, as well as two scantily clad showgirls. After doing his normal pre-jump show and a few warm up approaches, Knievel began his real approach. When he hit the takeoff ramp, he felt the motorcycle unexpectedly decelerate. The sudden loss of power on the takeoff caused Knievel to come up short and land on the safety ramp which was supported by a van. This caused the handlebars to be ripped out of his hands as he tumbled over them onto the pavement where he skidded into the Dunes parking lot. As a result of the crash, Knievel received a crushed pelvis and femur, fractures to his hip, wrist and both ankles and a concussion that kept him in a coma for 29 days.

Evel Knevil, dead at 69. How about an encore?

Medal of Honor

Lieutenant Michael Murphy, USN was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor today.

Summary of Action
Operation Redwing
June 28, 2005

On June 28, 2005, deep behind enemy lines east of Asadabad in the Hindu Kush of Afghanistan, a very committed four-man Navy SEAL team was conducting a reconnaissance mission at the unforgiving altitude of approximately 10,000 feet. The SEALs, Lt. Michael Murphy, Gunner’s Mate 2nd Class (SEAL) Danny Dietz, Sonar Technician 2nd Class (SEAL) Matthew Axelson and Hospital Corpsman 2nd Class (SEAL) Marcus Luttrell had a vital task. The four SEALs were scouting Ahmad Shah – a terrorist in his mid-30s who grew up in the adjacent mountains just to the south.

Under the assumed name Muhammad Ismail, Shah led a guerrilla group known to locals as the "Mountain Tigers" that had aligned with the Taliban and other militant groups close to the Pakistani border. The SEAL mission was compromised when the team was spotted by local nationals, who presumably reported its presence and location to the Taliban.

A fierce firefight erupted between the four SEALs and a much larger enemy force of more than 50 anti-coalition militia. The enemy had the SEALs outnumbered. They also had terrain advantage. They launched a well-organized, three-sided attack on the SEALs. The firefight continued relentlessly as the overwhelming militia forced the team deeper into a ravine.

Trying to reach safety, the four men, now each wounded, began bounding down the mountain's steep sides, making leaps of 20 to 30 feet. Approximately 45 minutes into the fight, pinned down by overwhelming forces, Dietz, the communications petty officer, sought open air to place a distress call back to the base. But before he could, he was shot in the hand, the blast shattering his thumb.

Despite the intensity of the firefight and suffering grave gunshot wounds himself, Murphy is credited with risking his own life to save the lives of his teammates. Murphy, intent on making contact with headquarters, but realizing this would be impossible in the extreme terrain where they were fighting, unhesitatingly and with complete disregard for his own life moved into the open, where he could gain a better position to transmit a call to get help for his men.

Moving away from the protective mountain rocks, he knowingly exposed himself to increased enemy gunfire. This deliberate and heroic act deprived him of cover and made him a target for the enemy. While continuing to be fired upon, Murphy made contact with the SOF Quick Reaction Force at Bagram Air Base and requested assistance. He calmly provided his unit’s location and the size of the enemy force while requesting immediate support for his team. At one point he was shot in the back causing him to drop the transmitter. Murphy picked it back up, completed the call and continued firing at the enemy who was closing in. Severely wounded, Lt. Murphy returned to his cover position with his men and continued the battle.

An MH-47 Chinook helicopter, with eight additional SEALs and eight Army Night Stalkers aboard, was sent is as part of an extraction mission to pull out the four embattled SEALs. The MH-47 was escorted by heavily-armored, Army attack helicopters. Entering a hot combat zone, attack helicopters are used initially to neutralize the enemy and make it safer for the lightly-armored, personnel-transport helicopter to insert.

The heavy weight of the attack helicopters slowed the formation’s advance prompting the MH-47 to outrun their armored escort. They knew the tremendous risk going into an active enemy area in daylight, without their attack support, and without the cover of night. Risk would, of course, be minimized if they put the helicopter down in a safe zone. But knowing that their warrior brothers were shot, surrounded and severely wounded, the rescue team opted to directly enter the oncoming battle in hopes of landing on brutally hazardous terrain.

As the Chinook raced to the battle, a rocket-propelled grenade struck the helicopter, killing all 16 men aboard.

On the ground and nearly out of ammunition, the four SEALs, Murphy, Luttrell, Dietz and Axelson, continued the fight. By the end of the two-hour gunfight that careened through the hills and over cliffs, Murphy, Axelson and Dietz had been killed. An estimated 35 Taliban were also dead.

The fourth SEAL, Luttrell, was blasted over a ridge by a rocket propelled grenade and was knocked unconscious. Regaining consciousness some time later, Luttrell managed to escape – badly injured – and slowly crawl away down the side of a cliff. Dehydrated, with a bullet wound to one leg, shrapnel embedded in both legs, three vertebrae cracked; the situation for Luttrell was grim. Rescue helicopters were sent in, but he was too weak and injured to make contact. Traveling seven miles on foot he evaded the enemy for nearly a day. Gratefully, local nationals came to his aid, carrying him to a nearby village where they kept him for three days. The Taliban came to the village several times demanding that Luttrell be turned over to them. The villagers refused. One of the villagers made his way to a Marine outpost with a note from Luttrell, and U.S. forces launched a massive operation that rescued him from enemy territory on July 2.

By his undaunted courage, intrepid fighting spirit and inspirational devotion to his men in the face of certain death, Lt. Murphy was able to relay the position of his unit, an act that ultimately led to the rescue of Luttrell and the recovery of the remains of the three who were killed in the battle.

This was the worst single-day U.S. Forces death toll since Operation Enduring Freedom began nearly six years ago. It was the single largest loss of life for Naval Special Warfare since World War II.

The Naval Special Warfare (NSW) community will forever remember June 28, 2005 and the heroic efforts and sacrifices of our special operators. We hold with reverence the ultimate sacrifice that they made while engaged in that fierce fire fight on the front lines of the global war on terrorism (GWOT).

-NSW-

US Navy SEAL Team ~Operation Red Wing

Lt. (SEAL) Michael P. Murphy, 29, of Patchogue, N.Y.
Gunner’s Mate 2nd Class (SEAL) Danny P. Dietz, 25, of Littleton, Colo.
Sonar Technician (Surface) 2nd Class (SEAL) Matthew G. Axelson, 29, of Cupertino, Calif.
Hospital Corpsman 2nd Class (SEAL) Marcus Luttrell ~ survivor

US Army Rangers ~ Rescue Team

Staff Sgt. Shamus O. Goare, 29, of Danville, Ohio.
Chief Warrant Officer Corey J. Goodnature, 35, of Clarks Grove, Minn.
Sgt. Kip A. Jacoby, 21, of Pompano Beach, Fla.
Sgt. 1st Class Marcus V. Muralles, 33, of Shelbyville, Ind.
Master Sgt. James W. Ponder III, 36, of Franklin, Tenn.
Maj. Stephen C. Reich, 34, of Washington Depot, Conn.
Sgt. 1st Class Michael L. Russell, 31, of Stafford, Va.
Chief Warrant Officer Chris J. Scherkenbach, 40, of Jacksonville, Fla.

US Navy SEALs ~ Rescue Team

Chief Fire Controlman (SEAL) Jacques J. Fontan, 36, of New Orleans, La.
Senior Chief Information Systems Technician (SEAL) Daniel R. Healy, 36, of Exeter, N.H.
Lt. Cmdr. (SEAL) Erik S. Kristensen, 33, of San Diego, Calif.
Electronics Technician 1st Class (SEAL) Jeffery A. Lucas, 33, of Corbett, Ore.
Lt. (SEAL) Michael M. McGreevy Jr., 30, of Portville, N.Y.
Quartermaster 2nd Class (SEAL) James Suh, 28, of Deerfield Beach, Fla.
Machinist Mate 2nd Class (SEAL) Eric S. Patton, 22, of Boulder City, Nev.
Hospital Corpsman 1st Class (SEAL) Jeffrey S. Taylor, 30, of Midway, W.Va.

Better men this world will never know.
Rest in peace.

National Anthem

7 year old sings National Anthem at a Siena College Basketball game in Albany New York.

Chinese Hostage Negotiations

On August 17, 2004, Zhang Kailin armed himself with two kitchen knives and took two children hostage in a fifth-floor classroom of a children's center in Shijiazhuang, Hebei Province in China. Patrol police, a SWAT team and firefighters rushed to the site to intervene. Zhang bargained with authorities for over two hours, when he finally attempted to harm a hostage.

Zhang Kailin made three demands.

The hostage rescue team considered the demands.

A counter offer was rejected.

The head negotiator set his terms.

Negotiations were successful.

Everyone went home for supper except the criminal.

Chinese news story here.

Rest in Peace

Luciano Pavarotti sings "Nessun Dorma" from Turandot



Thank you for your music sir.