November 11th: More than a Mattress Sale

Ladies and Gentlemen,

The traditional Armistice Day celebration was a direct reenactment of the excitement shared by the American homefront when the Great War was formally ended on "the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month" in 1918. Towns and cities across the nation made noise. Bells, whistles, pots & pans, firecrackers and gunshots. For years thereafter, at 11 AM on November 11th, Americans would make noise with bells and whistles, in remembrance. Eventually, bells faded from the tradition. These days, there are plenty of Veterans Day BOGO shoe sales and folks looking for a free meal, and there are precious few whistleblowers. It's 10 AM. Ready your bells and whistles.

Happy 234th Birthday, Marines!

Toasting you fine gents tonight at 9PM EST. Go in a good way, you filthy bastards! P.S. Easy on the cake, Jarew.
On November 1st, 1921, John A. Lejeune, 13th Commandant of the Marine Corps, directed that a reminder of the honorable service of the Corps be published by every command, to all Marines throughout the globe, on the birthday of the Corps. Since that day, Marines have continued to distinguish themselves on many battlefields and foreign shores, in war and peace. On this 234th birthday of the Corps, therefore, in compliance with the will of the 13th Commandant, Article 38, United States Marine Corps Manual, Edition of 1921, is republished as follows:

“On November 10, 1775, a Corps of Marines was created by a resolution of the Continental Congress. Since that date, many thousand men have borne the name Marine. In memory of them, it is fitting that we who are Marines should commemorate the Birthday of our Corps by calling to mind the glories of its long and illustrious history. The record of our Corps is one which will bear comparison with that of the most famous military organizations in the world's history. During 90 of the 146 years of it's existence the Marine Corps has been in action against the nations foes. From the battle of Trenton to the Argonne. Marines have won foremost honors in war, and in the long eras of tranquility at home. Generation after generation of Marines have grown gray in war in both hemispheres and in every corner of the seven seas that our country and its citizens might enjoy peace and security. In every battle and skirmish since the birth of our Corps Marines have acquitted themselves with the greatest distinction, winning new honors on each occasion until the term Marine has come to signify all that is highest in military efficiency and soldierly virtue. This high name of distinction and soldierly repute we who are Marines today have received from those who preceded us in the Corps. With it we also received from them the eternal spirit which has animated our Corps from generation to generation and has been the distinguishing mark of the Marines in every age. So long as that spirit continues to flourish Marines will be found equal to every emergency in the future as they have been in the past, and the men of our nation will regard us as worthy successors to the long line of illustrious men who have served as "Soldiers of the Sea" since the founding of the Corps.”
(John. A. Lejeune)
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A MESSAGE FROM THE COMMANDANT OF THE MARINE CORPS

United States Marines represent the best young men and women our Nation has to offer. To be a Marine is to be a member of America's warrior class--to be one of the few who steps forward with the courage and conviction to face whatever dangers await. Our Nation expects her Marines to be ready when the Nation calls; to leave family and the comforts of home behind; to march into battle and thrive under austerity; and to come home under a victory pennant.

From Al Anbar in the west of Iraq, to Helmand Province in the south of Afghanistan, our Corps of Marines can always expect to be found where the fight is toughest. Such is our history. Today, as we write the final chapter on our victory in Iraq, we will increasingly take the fight to the enemy in Afghanistan and add new pages to our legacy in places called Delaram, Now Zad, and Garmsir. One day, we will return to our naval heritage and sail the high seas with our Navy brothers. Such is our future.

As we celebrate our Corps' 234th Birthday, we first pause to reflect and pay tribute to those Marines who have given the last full measure in defense of freedom. We extend our deepest gratitude to our Marine Corps families--the unsung heroes who endure hardship and sacrifice so that we are able to go forward and accomplish any mission. We extend our appreciation to our countrymen who have answered our every need. And we celebrate the magnificent men and women who willingly and selflessly continue to go into harm's way to protect this great Nation.

To all who have gone before, to those who wear the uniform today, and to the families that give us the strength to forge ahead--I wish you all a heartfelt Happy 234th Birthday!

Semper Fidelis,

(Signed James T. Conway,
General, U.S. Marine Corps)

The Dynamite D/F of WWII, Part II: Meet Sgt. Bob Kresge

A picture is worth a thousand words... Grandpa didn't write much about the men he served with, but he took enough pictures for us to figure it out.

Sergeant Robert (Bob) Kresge was the second-ranking EM (enlisted man) in their detachment. My guess is, he was the epitome of a cock-n-swag American buck Sergeant. He was a true A-man, though, not requiring his men to call him Sergeant or even Sarge to boost his masculine ego. To the credit of, and in the fashion of, Bobs everywhere, he preferred to simply be called "Bob."

Bob, representing The Greatest Generation

Lookin' Sharp

Bob and his 'Wildswine'

Classic picture. Pointing a pistol as if to dissuade you from sharing his Coke (see crates at right)

Carola (left) is Bob's girl. The other is Elfriede, or Frieda. She's T/Sgt Bill Stewart's girl.

The Dynamite D/F of WWII, Part I: An Introduction

Digging Through Grandpa's Stuff...

Frank Norman Payton Speights was my grandpa. He died on March 16, 2006 at 81 years old. He was a fanatical collector of everything, and had huge collections of coins, precious stones and metals, original art, guns, knives, collectible documents & photos, stamps, sports cards, books, you name it.

This weekend, my dad and I were going through some old photo albums, for use in a collaborative story about my grandmother's French-German family during WWII. This is one of the albums. It covers grandpa's second tour of duty in Germany, from 1946 to 1949.

"Dynamite D/F (Direction Finders):" The Round-the-Clock Aircraft Controllers of the 602nd Tactical Control Squadron, Dannenfels bei Kirchheimbolanden, Germany -- French Zone
Above photo: The Dynamite radio van in front of "the tower."

Above photo: Young Heinz the handyman; Emilie, cook and housekeeper; Walt, cook.

"Introducing 'Sunday,' the German Shepherd, to a fawn"

Where there are Americans, there will be swimming.

Josh, the Titans, and Sports in our Family

In 2007, I managed Joshua's T-ball team, the Deep Creek Reds. In 2008, I managed both Joshua's coach-pitch team and Caleb's T-ball team (each the Deep Creek White Sox), followed by the 7- and 8-year-old All Star team. Between bingo nights, fundraisers, and perpetual volunteer 'requirements,' Petra and I were tapped. It was a huge committment just to see your kids quasi-interested in the American pastime, and each time, we looked forward to the end of the season.

This year, we took a break. The boys weren't super interested, and I was in France and couldn't help.

Then came football season. Josh wanted to play, Caleb didn't. So we signed Josh up with the Suffolk Titans. He was one of a handful of token white guys in the entire league. What a great opportunity! From a dad's point of view, I love that my boy is learning to play football in a black community. Leave the white and nerdy kids to tennis and golf.

I was a nerd when I was a kid. Collected butterflies. Played baseball one year when I was 9. Sucked all season, then hit a grand slam and was popular for five minutes. Played basketball in 7th and 8th grade. Sucked. Ran track in 9th grade. Fast mile (4:49), but compared to my fellow Ohio athletes, I might as well have sucked. Tried out for football my Junior year of high school. Found my niche. I wasn't the best, but I made Varsity, and it followed me into my Senior year. Loved it. Got accepted to University of Central Florida, who at that time had a great walk-on football program. Met Petra. Tossed UCF and the football dreams with no regrets.

Now it's my kids' turn. Josh is not a nerd. In fact, he's an anomaly. Loves sports in a non-sport-loving family. And spent almost no time on the bench in his first year of tackle football. Turned out to not only be "good enough," but actually really good, to the point that one opposing team was triple-teaming Josh when he was playing defensive tackle, because he kept sacking the QB. The opposing coach was so pissed at one point, he called a time-out and screamed, "Somebody stop number 88!" During practice, Josh was lifted up and shaken by Danny, the head of the Pop Warner league here. "That's how you do it, boy! That's how you tackle!!!" He's at the front of the pack when his team runs laps. Josh eats, breathes, and sleeps football. He studies plays. He's eight years old.

Caleb is cool with taking some time off. He's thinking about soccer, or Karate, or both. Josh just finished out his football season and can't wait to go again. Even Petra and I can't wait. It was such an enjoyable venture for the whole family. Practice was like a tailgate hangout at Peanut Park, and we were some of the loudest screamers on the bleachers Saturdays. We're not sure about going back to baseball.

The Peanut Capital of the World?

If you Google "Peanut Capital of the World" today, you will find six U.S. cities that boast this title. Our current home town of Suffolk, Virginia is amongst them. Now, I am not arguing that our town is more deserving of the title. George Washington Carver never so much as took a crap here in passing, as far as I can tell from online research. There is another man, though, that thought this town was a peanut goldmine. You may have never heard of Amedeo Obici, but you've probably heard of the company he founded, Planters. The Planters factory headquarters, located here, works its evil on the little people of Suffolk daily, by pumping the local atmosphere with the smell of fresh roasted peanuts. Obici's house is here too, and there's recent news that it may be restored and turned into a fine dining restaurant. Of course there are other peanut factories in town, but none of them with such a cool, classic mascot as Mr. Peanut.

The Lost Treasure of Willie Wiggins

I’ve yet to meet a child or adult who, when opening a dusty suitcase or chest of drawers in their grandmother’s attic, doesn’t feel a tinge of excitement regarding the possible treasures inside. For many, the ‘treasure’ may be nothing more than a handful of nostalgic photos or dated letters postmarked with blast-from-the-past stamps and interesting points of origin. In a more lucrative instance, one may uncover newspaper-wrapped silver coins from a rusted coffee tin or old cigar box.

About a month ago, I was working with my partner-in-crime, Larry Hayes, when we made an interesting discovery. We were contracted to remove and replace large portions of a house, including windows, roofing, siding, and drywall. We had decided to leave the original kitchen ceiling in place, since it appeared to be in good condition. As we demolished other walls in the house, the vibrations we created caused the kitchen ceiling to loosen and come crashing down. Our disappointment was quickly replaced by intrigue.

First, I found a photo. Then another. A few postcards. Some business cards. A $2.00 credit coupon from Shneer’s. A check stub. When we had finished collecting tidbits from the rubble, we took them outside and laid them out on the hood of the truck for inspection. The items collectively told a story: a story of one Willie Wiggins, who seems to have been a black Merchant Marine who served the Ex S.S. Delaware as a galleyman for the Texas Company (now Texaco) in the 1940’s and 50’s. He was well-traveled, and as Larry points out, it “looks like he worked long hours for a short paycheck back in those days.”

It appears that Mr. Wiggins had met a woman named Elizabeth Wilson at a sailor’s cafe called “Den Anker” in Antwerp, Belgium. Perhaps she was there with a few girlfriends, because he distinguished her as “the one with the long hair” next to a local Antwerp address he scribbled on the back of a café business card. A professionally-taken photograph shows regular German Bundeswehr soldiers at a bar in St. Pauli, Germany. There’s a postcard from Paris. A name tag from a hotel in Bombay, India, that says “Wel Come.” A postcard of “The Mighty Missouri,” printed in her inaugural year of 1945 by the Liberty Picture Company (now Atlantic Fleet Sales, Norfolk, VA). One photo shows a handsome young [Mr. Wiggins?] on a ship in port at New York City harbor. In another photo, two uniformed African American sailors sit atop an old Jeep aboard their boat. It’s difficult to tell whether Mr. Wiggins may be one of them.

While it is only stipulation that Mr. Willie Wiggins did, in fact, travel to all these places, the items at hand are still interesting and must be of value to the family of the items’ original owner. We talked to some of the folks around here, and they say the old man (Mr. Wiggins) died a few years back. Whether or not this is true, we are trying to return these articles to whom they rightly belong. It would be cool to talk to some of his family members and fill in the blanks of his story, too. Keep yous posted.



Mighty Mo image courtesy AFS)