Tag Archives: Military

A Joke from a Bygone Era

06 Thursday Jun 2019

Posted by in General

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My father served in three wars. He didn’t see action until Korea and Vietnam, but like so many young men from his generation, on graduating from high school, Dad signed up for service in World War II. He  spent the balance of that war as as an airplane mechanic working on Corsairs.

Dad had plenty of war stories to share at the dinner table. He had more stories from boot camp, then anything else, which is saying something, because his actual war stories were pretty amazing. Of course, Dad spared us the worst of it. Being the youngest, I was probably spared more detail than my siblings (though I did know what every one of the weapons in my green soldier pack could do by the age of five).

Sometimes, Dad would just tell jokes. Jokes he and his buddies had swapped over the years. I remember one of them. It seems so corny now, but I used to laugh and laugh. It was definitely my favorite. I’m sure, a lot will be lost in translation here, but I’ll try to convey it as best I can.

***

A young recruit shows up to boot camp late. He goes to get his gun and the man in charge tells him, he’s too late. They are all out. Not knowing what else to do, the man breaks off the end of a broom stick and says; “See here kid, whenever they tell you to shoot, you just point this stick at the target and yell “Bangity-bang-bang!”

Kid says ‘okay’, but what about a bayonet?

Guy takes one straw from the end and ties it to the end of the stick and says; “Okay, so whenever they tell you to stab something, you just point the stick like so and yell “stabbity-stab-stab!”

So the kid goes all the way through boot camp that way. He thinks he might have the idea, but he’s really hoping he’ll get the real thing soon.

Only he doesn’t. The kid’s unit gets rushed out for the invasion, and he gets all the way to Normandy and he’s still got his broom-stick in place of a gun. The kid tries to tell somebody, but they just push him into the landing craft. He actually storms the beach with a broomstick in his hand.

And then he sees a German (Dad, might have used a different word), and he doesn’t know what to do. the German is shooting at him. So, in desperation, the kid points the stick and says; “bangity-bang-bang!”

And the German dies.

Kid can’t believe it! But he’s surrounded by Germans, so he tries it again; “bangity-bang-bang!”

The next one goes right down.

So, the kid just keeps doing it; “bangity-bang-bang! bangity-bang-bang! bangity-bang-bang! bangity-bang-bang!”

…and the German soldiers go down every time.

He storms a German machine gun nest and kills a bunch of them saying “bangity-bang-bang!” Then one charges at him. He doesn’t know what else to do so he points the end of the broom-stick at him and yells; “stabbity-stab-stab!” The guy falls right down.

So the kid just keeps going, all through D-Day; “bangity-bang-bang! bangity-bang-bang! bangity-bang-bang! bangity-bang-bang!”

And the Germans just keep right on falling down.

Except this one big guy.

That one German just keeps coming.

The kid points his stick and shouts; “bangity-bang-bang!”

The German keeps coming.

The kid points the stick at him up close and yells; “stabbity-stab-stab!”

And the German just walks right over him.

And as he does, the kid hears “tankity-tank-tank!”

 

A Visit to the Alaska Veterans Museum

05 Thursday May 2016

Posted by in Alaska, Museums

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20160414_184944

A Guard Out Front

I was a little surprised to see a museum crammed into one of the small shops on 4th street in Anchorage. I was even more surprised to find just how much history they managed to cram into The Alaska Veterans Museum. It’s best to take your time in this place, because every inch of wall space in this venues contains something worth a second look, and maybe even a third.

The museum is of course a testament to the lives and work of Alaska’s veterans. For those of us interested in the history of Alaska, it also contains materials illustrating some of the more interesting parts of Alaskan history. No sooner had I walked through the door, for example, than the volunteer asked me if I knew where the last shots of the civil war had been fired. I suppose “the Shenandoah” wasn’t technically the right answer, but he smiled when I said it, and anyway, the point is they have a section for the history of this Confederate buccaneer up on the wall here.

…which had me smiling from the start of my visit.

The museum also features extensive coverage of the Aleutian campaign. It’s one of the quirks of Alaskan history. Where most of the lower 48 speaks of World War II as something that happened ‘over there’, some of the fighting actually did take place in this state. Not only did the Japanese bomb Dutch Harbor, they also occupied two islands in the Aleutian chain, all of which is well represented in the collections on display here at the museum.

DSC05947

?

The Alaskan Territorial Guard also gets prominent treatment here, though I am ashamed to say I didn’t get great pictures of that section. Just clumsy lensmanship on my part. The museum itself covers the history of this unit, comprised largely of Alaska Natives under the leadership of Major Marvin ‘Muktuk’ Marston. The unit (including a number of women) was charged with monitoring the coastline to act as a first line of defense. They also had to be on the look out for balloon bombs (sent over the Pacific in the hopes of starting forest fires in the U.S.).

The museum includes several outstanding dioramas, most of which feature naval operations. I struggled to get a good picture of the aircraft carrier, but in the end I had to settle for a few close-ups. The model itself was just too big to get in a single shot.

I was unfamiliar with the story of the U.S.S. Grunion, a submarine lost near Kiska, so this part of the exhibit was entirely new to me. One particular veteran, Percy Blatchford, had a section to himself. You can find him around the net as well. Each of the major conflicts of American history receive some treatment here, in each case focusing on the experiences of Alaskan military personnel.

A couple stories that didn’t get into the museum (at least I don’t think so) would include the Navy’s bombing of Angoon in 1882 and the story of Aleutian internment. They do cover the Japanese internment of Aleutians, but no mention is made of those taken off those Islands by the U.S. personnel. I’m not entirely sure I caught everything during my visits last month, and I am still amazed at the breadth of materials they got into the collection. As I understand it, they have a great deal more in storage, and that storage may be spilling into the homes of those behind the museum itself. It’s obviously a labor of love, so I suppose that is to be expected.

On one of my visits to the Museum, I had the pleasure of meeting Col. Suellyn Wright Novak who heads up the Museum. She had a number of great stories to tell, including that of the Alaskan Territorial Guard statue out in front. Some wonder why it doesn’t have a plaque on it? Those more observant have wondered why the information plaque is behind the guardsman. It turns out, the museum staff just didn’t want anyone to be run-over while reading the plaque from the street.

…good thinking.

I am posting a few pics here, but of course they don’t do the museum justice. As usual, you may click to embiggen.

***

Shenandoah

Course of the Shenandoah
Shenandoah

Dioramas!

Carrier Model Goodness
Small Diorama
Epic Diorama
Moar Epic Diorama!
Epic Diorama Again
Aircraft Carrier Again
Moar Carrier!
DId I mention they have a model carrier?
They definitely have a model carrier
AIrcraft Carrier
Diorama

 

Aleutian Campaign

I think I would want a lot more uniform!
Map of Kiska
Aleutian Campaign

 

Alaska Territorial Guard

baleen

Alaska Territorial Guard Etched on Baleen

The U.S.S. Grunion

U.S.S. Grunion
The U.S.S. Grunion

 

General

Desert Storm
A Dress made of Parachute Silk
Bombing of Dutch Harbor
Humorous Advice
A Pilot’s Story
Humor
Okay
Hazards of making a wedding dress out of parachute silk.
Cool!
U.S. Revenue Cutter, The Bear (This ship appears in many stories about Alaska)
Funny Advice
This speaks for itself, I reckon.
Lotta Knots
Territorial Guard, I Believe
Vietnam
Military Teddies

 

And Finally

20160415_105135

Best to read from the sidewalk

…or the comfort of your home.

PlaqueATG

In Loving Memory of Donald T. M. Wall, May 5, 1928 – October 17, 1997

17 Sunday Jun 2012

Posted by in Childhood

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U.S. Army Photograph 41-133-79-1/AK-67, LTC Donald T.M. Wall, January 5, 1967

It might be more a memory of a memory at this point, but it is a vivid memory just the same. It is the moment that I actually met my father for the first time. I must have been about 3, though I don’t know the precise year, and I know that I had seen him before, but still…

I remember the days beforehand. This was the late 60s, and we lived on Nona Kay Drive in San Antonio Texas. I have this vision of an old TV with some soap opera playing in the background (“Like sands through an hourglass..”), and Mother asking me if I was excited that my Daddy was coming home.

I most certainly was.

There were pictures of Dad all around the house, all in various uniforms. As I understand it now, this was Father’s second tour in Vietnam. Now a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army Medical Corpse, Dad had overseen the construction of a field hospital during this tour. In Korea he had served as an intelligence officer. In World War II he had served briefly in the marines as an airplane mechanic toward the end of the war. Father would soon retire and move on to try his hand at a variety of civilian jobs. He would serve as a hospital administrator, teach at a few colleges, run a submarine sandwich shop, and sell mobile homes among other things, all before settling into a retirement career as a Dam Guide (that is a guide at Hoover Dam for non-Boulder City natives). Through it all, I think his 23 years of service to the military remained the defining feature of his career.

What I understood at the time was that my father was far away, and he was finally coming home. I must have spoken to him on the phone once or twice, or at least provided the toddler equivalent of speech. Anyway, I knew my father. He was very much a part of my life. So, when Mother began to ask me if I was happy that dad was coming home, the answer was most certainly ‘yes’.

It  must have been a school day when Father returned, because neither my older brother nor my older sister came with us to meet the plane. I remember we walked out onto the tarmac. I remember Mom’s excitement as the flight approached. I remember how it increased as the men began to step off the plane, each in combat fatigues. I looked, but I could not see my father among the first few, nor the few that came after.

And then Mother’s excitement seemed to boil over. “There he is,” she shouted, “Do you see him?”

I didn’t.

She kept pointing at someone in the line of men in green combat fatigues, but I didn’t recognize my father among any them at all. I still didn’t recognize the man that actually walked up, hugged and kissed my mother. I had no idea who he was.

I remember staring up at him and wondering if this really was the man in the pictures at home. And that’s when it dawned on me. What I could not remember at the time was ever having seen him in person. I had of course, but it had been too far back in time. Perhaps half of my young life had passed since I had last seen this man. In the interim, he had become a voice on the phone, a series of pictures, and a person given form and meaning largely through Mother’s words.

The man in front of me at just that moment was not wearing a dress uniform as he had been in all those pictures, and that was enough to throw me completely. I studied his face to see if I could recognize something there, but I just couldn’t see it. Father to me was a broad brimmed officer’s hat and a uniform full of fancy decorations. Standing there without them, this man could have been anybody. It was an awfully odd moment, staring up at a man already a part of my world and realizing that I didn’t know him at all. At the moment, I had only my mother’s word upon which to hang my belief that this was my father.

Thankfully, she was right.

He turned out to be a very good one.