Red Storm Rising

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Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
May 24, 2007

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On war, weapons and shields
Dear Editor,

I first want to express my thanks to the sons of both Joyce Holman and Kristi Nicholls for their service to our nation during its most trying time of this generation. I empathize with the feelings expressed in their letters of May 8th and 10th. I am both awed and respectful of Sgt. Holman's spirit and would love to hear first-hand the feelings of Ms. Nicholls' son, as I am always wary of making judgments based on second-hand information.

As a parent, soldier, and a veteran of the current conflicts, I want to word this carefully out of respect for the anxiety and trepidation of these parents.

Personal body armor is designed for protection against small arms fire, and all soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan have it. This means that they have the ballistic plates, otherwise it is not armor, but merely a fabric vest. In some cases, the enhanced plates are not issued until troops reach staging areas near Iraq, as it makes distribution more effective. This was not the case in 2003-4, and some troops bought armor at personal expense for which reimbursement has been offered. Personally procured body armor is no longer authorized to prevent the use of inferior and defective body armor, to include Dragon Skin.

Losing soldiers to improvised explosive devices (IEDs) is preventable, but not through technological means as Ms. Nicholls states. All HUMMWVs that travel the roads of Iraq are armored, some more heavily than others; but as the armor increases, so does the lethality of IEDs. While prudence demands the use of armor against smaller, more easily-identified threats, bombs that leave swimming-pool-sized holes will defeat not only the best-armored HUMMWVs, but Strykers and tanks as well.

The race between better weapons and better shields will always be won by the weapon. See both www.michaelyon-online.com/wp/jungle-law.htm and http://bdelapla.typepad.com/firepowerforward.

The key to prevention lies in avoidance. That solution is ultimately political, and the responsibility for its implementation lies with all of us.

Brian Delaplane

Mehlingen, Germany

Fall Field Training Exercise

"Are you an assassin?"

"I'm a soldier."

"You're neither.  You're an errand boy sent by a grocer to collect a bill."

-Apologies to Marlon Brando and Martin Sheen

Okay, so it wasn't quite Apocalypse Now and I-95 isn't exactly the Dong Nai river, but as we load all the Red Storm Battalion cadets into busses and vans and pointed them towards central New Jersey you definitely got the feeling that we were leaving civilization behind us and heading in to the heart of Darkness.  Things worked out much better for us than they did for Martin Sheen or even Joseph Conrad's protaginist.  We descended on Ft. Dix in the middle of the night, left our mark for the next 2 days, and then disappeared like smoke in the wind.

The MSIIIs got their first taste of the field environment under the tutilage of MAJ Hamner and MSG  Nathan while a great many of the MS Is and IIs got their first taste of a field environment period. 

The weather held out for us while all the cadets zeroed and fired the M-16, rceived l and navigation classes, rappelled, and worked through scenarios on the Field Leadership Reaction Course.

A good overall weekend and the challenges for the cadets will just inrease from here.

 

Reminders of Another Life

Flipping through the Sunday paper this morning, I suddenly confronted by a ghost from the past.  In an article in Newsday titled "No 'Ordinary Life' in Iraq" was this picture.  Tyler was one of my cadets at St. Bonaventure when I taught there as a captain in the late 90's.

The Leadership Labs Continue

Getting ready for the Fall FTX, the Freshmen and Sophomore cadets learn the basics of rappelling during the September 13th leadership lab.

View the complete photo album from the link on the left.

Moving the Thunder

I have a hand towel in my office emblazoned with a Denver Bronco logo that boldly declares "I Helped Move the Thunder".  The Denver Broncos played at the old Mile High Stadium through the first 40 years of their existence.  The upper decks of Mile High was comprised of an all metal structure that was unceremoniously stuck on top of the concrete lower decks during the stadiums expansion back in the 60s.  The result was that when the 40,000 or so Broncomaniacs who filled the upper decks got excited, they would begin stomping their feet on the metal flooring and the resonating cacophony would be deafening.  The noise came to be known as "Mile-High Thunder".

When Denver's new stadium was built, there was a very strong sentiment from the old faithful to not sell corporate naming rights and keep the old "Mile High" name.  Of course, money won out in the end and the mutual fund company who bought the naming rights made the token of effort of calling the house that John built "Invesco Field at Mile High".  Trying to build goodwill amongst the old faithful, Invesco distributed the towels that declared "I Helped Move the Thunder" to all fans who entered the stadium to see the Broncos play their first game at Invesco field.

I attended that game, a Monday night contest with the New York Giants. A Bronco win, a national TV audience, a gorgeous Rocky Mountain night; although the old thunder was missing , it was pretty much everything that could be asked for from a Bronco fan other than Denver's Ed McCaffery going down hard in the 3rd quarter.  The Bronco's performance was decent and their prospects for the season looked good although Eddie Mac was a vital part of the offense and we would have to wait until the next day for the full analysis. 

I took my towel and followed the crowd out of the stadium relishing my small part in a bit of sports history.  It was a wonderful experience with the familiar sights, sounds, and smells of a big sporting event swirling into the excitement of a gorgeous new facility.  It was a night grounded with hope, steeped in history, and decorated with the glitz and glamor of NFL football.  There have been many days since that I have longed to turn back the clock and re-live that night again and again.  It was September 10th, 2001.

This morning as I made my way onto the Grand Central Parkway in Queens I listened to the radio's non-stop coverage of the 9/11 memorial events complete with 6 moments of silence at the times when hundreds or thousands of Americans were taken from us 6 years ago (go ahead, count them, there are six).  I couldn't escape the irony of the fact that six years ago I had turned on the radio on the way to work expecting nothing worse than bad news about Ed McCaffery's leg only to hear that life as I knew it was slipping away.  Now here, 2000 days, six moves, and many tears later, fate brings me to the epicenter of those events that ripped the normalcy from our lives.

I silently weep for the naivete and innocence that was taken from us that day, and I curse those who preach an ideology of hatred focused upon us.  It angers me to know that the seismic waves that resonated from this epicenter in 2001 uprooted us from the security of our home and have carried across the world and back but it angers me even more to see the lack of changes that have occurred here. 

There was a short period after 9/11 when I still carried on my life as a civilian, a time before I was mobilized by the Army Reserve which led to me returning to the Regular Army.  It was during this brief time akin to that pause between the flash of the lightning and the roar of the thunder, that my civilian job brought me to Lower Manhattan where I sat in a meeting gazing out the 17th floor window into the hole of ground zero.  Seeing my distraction, my host took me to an even higher floor where I could get an even better grasp of the catastrophic effects of that day, at this time, less than a year removed.  She recounted the events from her perspective, the shock of the second plane strike, the numbness, seeing people falling from the towers, rooftops littered with bodies, streets clogged with emergency vehicles as firefighters and first responders fought their way into the towers, the pandemonium following the collapse of the south tower; it was the closest description I could imagine of absolute terror.

When I left her building on lower Broadway that day, I walked around the small chapel across the street from ground zero, all but obscured by the banners and photos.  There was a silence and reverence all around which even the ever present street vendors seemed to honor.  In October 2003 as I was preparing to ship to Germany, I visited another friend at the World Financial Center across the street from ground zero.  A huge banner hung from the abandoned Deutsche Bank building testifying to the spirit of perseverance.  There was still an air of respect but the more prominent theme was hope and rebuilding.  Today, that spirit seems to have dissipated.  As Pam and walked the area a few weeks ago those themes seem to have degraded into an annoyance at the disruptions and inconveniences and a frustration as to why we haven't returned to our September 10th lives.  That annoyance and frustration seems to be pacified by iPhones, Starbucks, and street vendors with knock off Gucci bags.  The banners are gone.

Pam was visibly upset that evening as we rode the train back towards Long Island.  The events that occurred at this place violently stole her life away from her.  They forced her to move back and forth across the country and across the world, she lived in a foreign land where she attributed their indifference to the fact that 9/11 hadn't happened to them.  She has seen her family torn from her and dissipated across the globe, more than one directly into harm's way.  Her work was taken from her, other people are living in her home and here, where those events should matter to people most, people seemed callously indifferent and annoyed at inconveniences that seem trivial from her perspective.

While I lament the loss of the life we had and would trade all I have to bring that life back, I consider myself fortunate in some small ways.  I am thankful that I have lived in and experienced the Muslim culture that has been wrongly vilified because some of it's fringes have been bastardized by extremists.  I am fortunate to have lived in Europe and found that the, contrary to popular belief, they do not categorically hate Americans.  Mostly I am fortunate to have found myself in a position where I can not only make a difference today, but shape the future.

These things pass through my mind as I drive to work this morning, and I think of that towel in my office reminding me that "I Helped Move the Thunder".  I think of the officers that I have commissioned and the cadets that we train at the Red Storm Battalion.  I think of the battalion motto "Stormbringers".  Tomorrow morning as I make the drive in the morning darkness, I will be guided by two towers of light emanating from lower Manhattan, and I will think of Kurt Russel's line from Tombstone, "You called down the thunder, well now you've got it."

Let the Games Begin

Thursday, August 30th ushered in the new era of Leadership Labs in the Red Storm   Battalion here at St. John's.  12 new cadets were contracted and sworn in each receiving their Corps of Cadets Coin which will be carried with them until they are commissioned as Army Officers.

Additionally, everyone was issued uniforms and equipment, reeived an overview of the program and were given a rather pointed briefing which we like to call "The Gospel According to Delaplane"

Move In Day

August 25th marked the official beginning of the new school year for the Red Storm Battalion with the Freshman Move In Day.  With 5,000 new students, this is the  largest Freshman class St. John's has achieved.

The Red Storm Battalion senior, fresh back from their Leadership Development Advance Camp at Ft. Lewis, Washington planned and executed the battalion's operation to assist all the new Freshmen in getting setteled into their new homes on the Queen's campus.  More than 65 of our cadets cut their summer break short to come in and assist the efforts on this beautiful Saturday  afternoon and the operation was followed up with a barbeque to welcome back all our cadets from their summer breaks, recognize their numerous achievements, and welcome all our new students into the battalion.

The recogntions included 11 seniors completing the 6 week Leadership Development Advance Camp, 6 Juniors completing the 4 week Leadership Training Course at Ft. Knox, KY, 2 cadets completing airborne training at Ft. Benning, 5 cadets completing Air Assault School, 1 senior returning from the Nurse Summer Training Program at Tripler Army Hospital in Hawaii, 1 Senior completing an Arm Medical internship at Landstuhl Army Medical Center in Germany, and mostly 12 new 4 year schoarship winners being welcomed to the Red Storm Battalion.

A great kick-off to the new year.

Better Armor Vs. Better Bombs

I've been maintaining an ongoing skirmish of words with with a small segment of the population of Glenwood Springs, CO and the encompassing Roaring Fork Valley through the editorial pages of the local newspaper there, Glenwood Springs Post Independent.

The entire Roaring Fork Valley has become decidedly more liberal in it's political views since since my upbringing there and while there is no intent or desire to sway that through my prosiac jousts, it does make for good debate from time to time and I mainly continue the sparring because my mother likes to occasionally see my name in the paper.

There was a recent letter that I think deserves a bit more widespread scrutiny though, that from the mother of a new soldier apparently in or on his way to Iraq.  Among other things, Ms. Nicholls states that sustaining casualties from IEDs in Iraq is preventable.  All we need to do is provide up-armored HUMMWVs to every soldier in Iraq.

What concerns me about this is that the letter was published on the 8th of May and there have been no rebuttals.  Is this the generally accepted point of view in America, that is is all just a matter of money and the only reason troops are dying from IEDs is that we don't care enough to simply provide them with up-armored hummers?

The reality is that the Army hasn't been allowed to send unarmored hummers to Iraq (or Afghanistan for that matter) for more than 2 years and any unarmored vehicle already there is certainly not taken off the FOBs.  The sad fact is that the lethality of IEDs has increased far faster than armor technology and it always will (see Michael Yon's "Jungle Law" dispatch). 

Deaths of American troops by roadside bombs may very well be preventable but when we are seeing IEDs in Iraq with enough lethality to detstroy Stryker vehicles and M1 tanks, conventional wisdom tells us that throwing more armor on a Hummer isn't the method that is going to achieve those ends.  Adding more armor to HUMMWVs has a diminishing marginal utility.  More armor is not only expensive but the additional weight reduces the performance and handling of the vehicle which plays its own factor in endangering troops.  Additionally, adding more armor requires upgrades to not only the electrical system and air conditioning (putting the windows down on an armored vehicle pretty much defeats the purpose) but significant upgrades to the suspension, all of which gets vaporized when the bad guys simply wire one more artillery shell into their IED.

Militarily, we can't stop the lethality of IEDs from increasing, nor can we achieve a high rate of success in preventing those intent on emplacing them from doing so (see Michael Yon's "Rattlesnake" dispatch).  The solution lies in removing the desire to emplace them and that solution is not, primarily a military one, but a political one.

Farewell Tour

So after arriving back in Germany following our whirwind tour of the US, I find myself once agina counting days until I leave a country.  I began the process of clearing the military installations as soon as we arrived back and also started trying to squeeze in all those things that we said we would have to do before we left Europe.  Good luck with that.

One thing that we did manage to do was finally get to a home game of 1FCK, who are trying to work theur way back into the top flight of the Bundes Liga after gettign bumped out last year. The weather was perfect, sunny and warm, the bear was cold, and the fans were boisterous, and although the game ended in a tie, the experience couldn't have been any better.  The game did coincidentally fall on my birthday and the C-17s that frequently whined over Fritz-Walter Stadion on their approach to Ramstein were a constant reminder of a birthday recent past where  I endured incessant harassment from my staff in FOB Salerno, and reminded us also of those still spending important occasions far from home and in harm's way.

Friday night found us at the opening night of the Lauter Kerwe, the annual spring festival in Kaiserslautern.  I paid 3 Euro for ten chances to bounce a ping-pong ball towards a large display of beer steins and much to the proprieter's chagrin, ball #10 rattled home into a stein in the back of the top row.  Now the proud owner of a limited edition Zoller & Born beer stein, the next logical step was to try it out. So after shouldering our way to a table near the band in the fest tent, Pam promptly received lessons for the proper hand and arm gestures for the music, something to do with cowboys, a lasso, and totem poles (hard to believe that its a German folk song).

We have had BBqs and dinners with friends,  CPT Parrish, whose departure coincides with ours, will be having multiple parties before she leaves the active Army in favor of grad school at Georgetown, and we will be able to squeeze in Memorial day weekend at the Bodensee on the German, Austrian, Swiss border.

So while we may not complete the "Everything We Wanted to do in Europe" list, I'm sure that by the time we are wheels up for JFK we will have completed enough items to be satisfied with tucking the list away and calling it a win.

House in a Box

Six boxes actually, big wooden ones on the back of a German truck headed for the port of Bremerhaven.

The appointment slip from the transportation office indicated that we should be ready for the movers to show up at our house between the narrowly defined timeframe of 7 A.M. to 7 P.M.  The doorbell announced their arrival at 7:45 A.M. and the 4 Turkish movers employed by a German firm descended upon our household like a swarm of locusts. 

Bookshelves disintegrated into piles of laminated wood and hardware; cupboards, cabinets, and closets were sucked dry and furniture evaporated into large parcels of corrugated packing material and brown tape.

A mere 5 hours after the doorbell rang, the trucks rumbled back down the street leaving us standing in the doorway with only 6 sheets of paper indicating that our house in a box will meet us on the other side of the ocean next month.

We certainly hope they're right.