Coast Guard station Juneau calling the F/V Infinity, over…..
I was hauling our shrimp pots, with my wife and a deckhand, on our fishing boat Infinity at the head of Tenakee inlet when; “Coast Guard station Juneau calling the Fishing Vessel Infinity, over” blared out of the deck speaker. We had arrived from Sitka three days earlier, after a frustrating trip and late start for the shrimp opener.
On the run up, in the middle of Chatham Strait, my engine started vibrating badly. I shut it down, leaving Carolyn on radar watch as we drifted, and went down into the engine room to check out the problem. I had spent most of my working life flying jets. Jet engines just suck, squeeze and blow. I knew how they worked, but these old 671 Detroit jimmies were something else. I hollered up for Carolyn to start it up again. Immediately I saw the problem. A flywheel looking thing on the drive shaft at the front of the engine was wobbling badly. Quickly I grabbed the manual shutoff and stopped the engine. This was not good.
I went back up to the wheelhouse and started calling on channel 16 for anyone in our vicinity. One of my sons answered. We switched channels and he asked what was up? I told him the problem and he said he was two hours behind me and would give me a tow into Tenakee Springs, which was both our destination.
The weather was fair and the tow was uneventful. After tying up I went to a telephone that was on the dock and called the diesel mechanic in Sitka. I explained the problem. He called it a vibration isolator and said he would send me a new one by float plane asap. As the shrimping season opened the next morning and only lasted fifteen days time was big money for me and he knew it.
The part arrived the next morning and it took me all day to repair the Jimmie, so we missed the opening day. That night I ran up to the head of Tenakee inlet and anchored. The other boats had a days start to stake out their areas, so I knew it would be hard to find a good bottom. As it turned out we found a stretch of water just the right size for us and in a good area. God is good.
On the afternoon of the third day the call came. We finished hauling the string of pots and I stripped off my gloves and headed for the wheelhouse. “Coast Guard station Juneau this is the F/V Infinity, over,” I repeated the call. “Roger Infinity, request you proceed to the nearest landline and call the Juneau Coast Guard station, over.” “Roger Coast Guard Juneau, what’s up?” “Infinity Juneau Coast Guard. You have an urgent message. That’s all I know, over.” “Okay Juneau, we’re on our way. ETA in an hour and a half. Thank you, out.”
I looked around, Carolyn and our deckhand were standing behind me. They had the same look on their faces that I had on mine. Something was bad wrong. We all three knew something was bad wrong. There was no other explanation for this most unusual call.
We made the run back to Tenakee Springs in silence. I suspect we were all praying. I know I was. It was a terrible situation. Both our sons were fishing and our daughter lived in L.A. I couldn’t bring myself to think it, but there it was. If it isn’t my family then it has to be my deckhands. How do you hope your family is okay and it is your deckhands family that is in trouble. We looked at each other knowing what we were all thinking.
When we arrived at the dock one of my son’s and another young man that is as a son were waiting. They had heard the call and had beaten us back to the dock and called the Coast Guard. Both had tears running down their faces. We tied up in silence, with our emotions ragged, we all started to cry. Finally, the boys said to my deckhand, “Your son has been lost at sea. He was washed overboard in heavy weather out west last night and they couldn’t find him. They’ve been searching for over twelve hours now.”
I wanted to yell, “Thank God it’s your family and not mine, but my heart was breaking as I looked at my deckhand.” He said, “Somehow I knew it was my son.” We all blubbered how sorry we were, but he knew that we were glad it wasn’t our family and understood. He went into the wheelhouse and came out with his sleeping bag and simply said, “Don’t wait for me. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Then walked off into the rain forest.
Sorry, but relieved, we untied the boat in silence and headed back out to sea. We had shrimp pots to run, a season to make…..A life to live.
Marshall Warren
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Saturday, July 21, 2018
Misted
The other day I heard a noise in our carport. Suspecting a bear I got my rifle and bear spray. I opened the back door and sure enough, a bear was dragging a trash bag out of the carport. I yelled at him, but the bear just looked at me and kept dragging the trash bag out into the yard. He showed no fear. As I tried to get close enough to spray him, about 15 feet, he would move away dragging the trash bag. I got real aggressive, yelling and walking fast toward him. He bowed up his back, hissed at me, picked up the bag and walked across the road into the woods, leaving a trail of trash.
I asked Carolyn, who was standing in the door watching, to bring me a trash bag. As I followed the bear, I picked up the trash and caught up with him on the other side of the road. He was just sitting there picking through the bag looking for something to eat. I kept advancing on him trying to scare him away, but he would pick up the trash bag and move another 20 feet, sit down and start going through the bag again.
This went on for about 100 yards and by then I had all the trash in my bag, so I turned around and headed back to my house. The bear followed me like a puppy dog. I thought, “enough is enough,” so I got the bear spray ready, checked the wind, it was calm and sprayed. He was no more than 15 feet away. The orange mist shot out to about 10 feet and stopped. The bear sat there looking at the mist. Suddenly the orange mist reversed direction. Before I could get out of the way it passed over me.
The effect wasn’t terrible, but my eyes were pouring tears, my nose was running a stream and burning right smart like. Everything was a blur. I danced around for what seemed like five minutes holding the trash bag, rifle and spray. When I could finally see, the bear was still sitting there 15 feet away, patiently watching my antics. I made my way through the woods to my neighbor’s yard with the bear right on my tail. He, my neighbor, came running over yelling and waving. The reinforcements were finally too much for the bear so he trotted off into woods.
Another bear had a story to tell his friends about the crazy carryings on of humans. “All that,” the bear must have thought, “over a stupid bag of trash.”
Marshall Warren
The other day I heard a noise in our carport. Suspecting a bear I got my rifle and bear spray. I opened the back door and sure enough, a bear was dragging a trash bag out of the carport. I yelled at him, but the bear just looked at me and kept dragging the trash bag out into the yard. He showed no fear. As I tried to get close enough to spray him, about 15 feet, he would move away dragging the trash bag. I got real aggressive, yelling and walking fast toward him. He bowed up his back, hissed at me, picked up the bag and walked across the road into the woods, leaving a trail of trash.
I asked Carolyn, who was standing in the door watching, to bring me a trash bag. As I followed the bear, I picked up the trash and caught up with him on the other side of the road. He was just sitting there picking through the bag looking for something to eat. I kept advancing on him trying to scare him away, but he would pick up the trash bag and move another 20 feet, sit down and start going through the bag again.
This went on for about 100 yards and by then I had all the trash in my bag, so I turned around and headed back to my house. The bear followed me like a puppy dog. I thought, “enough is enough,” so I got the bear spray ready, checked the wind, it was calm and sprayed. He was no more than 15 feet away. The orange mist shot out to about 10 feet and stopped. The bear sat there looking at the mist. Suddenly the orange mist reversed direction. Before I could get out of the way it passed over me.
The effect wasn’t terrible, but my eyes were pouring tears, my nose was running a stream and burning right smart like. Everything was a blur. I danced around for what seemed like five minutes holding the trash bag, rifle and spray. When I could finally see, the bear was still sitting there 15 feet away, patiently watching my antics. I made my way through the woods to my neighbor’s yard with the bear right on my tail. He, my neighbor, came running over yelling and waving. The reinforcements were finally too much for the bear so he trotted off into woods.
Another bear had a story to tell his friends about the crazy carryings on of humans. “All that,” the bear must have thought, “over a stupid bag of trash.”
Marshall Warren
Wednesday, July 11, 2018
BEAR AND BIRDSHOT
It had been an unusual summer for us and the bears. We had had a late frost in the spring causing the loss of the wild berry crop and also a poor salmon run in the river and creeks. The bears depend on these food sources to fatten up for the long winter here in Southeast Alaska. We have a large bear population here and they were hungry. Because they were hungry they started expanding their search area, which brought them to our homes. Anyone leaving food outside or failing to properly dispose of garbage became a target. Overnight the word was out among the bears and here they came. We were seeing more bears in our yards than in recent memory. Trouble and conflict were on the way.
Since August my grandchildren had been restricted to the house unless an armed adult was with them outside. On August 26 I had to kill a bear that had chased a neighbor and his daughter into their house, then charged me when I came over and tried to run it off. Some pets had been attacked as well. I had begun to see bears on my property almost daily. It seemed the whole community was having problems.
It isn’t unusual to see bears in the yard. It happens every year. Normally they just pass through and run as soon as they see you. I don’t molest them and they don’t molest me or my property. That year was different. Hunger had caused them to lose their natural fear of humans. That’s a bad situation for them and us.
It was about 9pm when I heard the shot. It was close. The next morning I checked with my neighbors and one had fired the shot. A bear had climbed into his daughter's car to get some snack food damaging it. I asked if he killed the bear? No, he hadn’t killed it. Unfortunately, he had shot it with birdshot. The word was spread to all the neighbors we had a wounded bear on our hands.
Birdshot or even an air rifle causes festering sores and infection that can lead to a slow death. An injured bear is a dangerous critter. If a person can’t chase a dangerous bear away with noise or spray, then it’s better and more humane to kill it.
Over the next few days, bears broke into two other freezers, destroying the people's winter meat supply, and ripped the back wall out of a storage shed. People were going to their outhouses armed. The situation was becoming difficult.
Late one evening I got a call. Another neighbor had come home and found a bear in his garage. As he grabbed his 300 Winchester Magnum from behind his pickup seat the bear took off. My neighbor fired a quick shot just as the bear entered the tree line. He was certain he had hit the bear and wanted me to come over and help him look for it before it got dark.
I picked up my .458 loaded with 400gr. Barnes-x bullets and went next door to get my son and his dog to help track the bear. We followed it into a dense spruce thicket. By then we had to use our flashlights. I picked up the bears eyes no more than twenty-five feet away. Putting my crosshairs on him I snapped off a one-handed shot. It was difficult, but it connected, putting the poor fellow out of his misery.
When we examined him we found birdshot in his shoulder and neck. They must have been causing a lot of pain. The 300 win mag had caused a nasty flesh wound. My 400gr. Bullet had killed it instantly. Some may think the .458 an overkill, but under those conditions I wanted to inflict maximum damage and the .458 Winchester Magnum did just that.
Since then we had a sow and her two cubs pay us a visit. Our dog treed the cubs and sparred with the sow until my son called off the dog. That gave the sow enough of a scare that she didn’t return. I still saw bear signs around and wondered how many would survive the coming winter.
If we choose to live in the bush and share our lives with the animals we must be responsible neighbors to them. Don’t attract them with citified practices. Proper trash disposal is imperative. Keep freezers in your house. Don’t leave food in cars or hang suet bird feeders on your porch. Burning food in a burn pit is like sending up smoke signals saying “Food!” And above all don’t try and scare a bear away by injuring it. The best way to get rid of a pesky bear is to remove all enticements. Of course you can dump dog food on your neighbors property. That always works.
Marshall Warren
It had been an unusual summer for us and the bears. We had had a late frost in the spring causing the loss of the wild berry crop and also a poor salmon run in the river and creeks. The bears depend on these food sources to fatten up for the long winter here in Southeast Alaska. We have a large bear population here and they were hungry. Because they were hungry they started expanding their search area, which brought them to our homes. Anyone leaving food outside or failing to properly dispose of garbage became a target. Overnight the word was out among the bears and here they came. We were seeing more bears in our yards than in recent memory. Trouble and conflict were on the way.
Since August my grandchildren had been restricted to the house unless an armed adult was with them outside. On August 26 I had to kill a bear that had chased a neighbor and his daughter into their house, then charged me when I came over and tried to run it off. Some pets had been attacked as well. I had begun to see bears on my property almost daily. It seemed the whole community was having problems.
It isn’t unusual to see bears in the yard. It happens every year. Normally they just pass through and run as soon as they see you. I don’t molest them and they don’t molest me or my property. That year was different. Hunger had caused them to lose their natural fear of humans. That’s a bad situation for them and us.
It was about 9pm when I heard the shot. It was close. The next morning I checked with my neighbors and one had fired the shot. A bear had climbed into his daughter's car to get some snack food damaging it. I asked if he killed the bear? No, he hadn’t killed it. Unfortunately, he had shot it with birdshot. The word was spread to all the neighbors we had a wounded bear on our hands.
Birdshot or even an air rifle causes festering sores and infection that can lead to a slow death. An injured bear is a dangerous critter. If a person can’t chase a dangerous bear away with noise or spray, then it’s better and more humane to kill it.
Over the next few days, bears broke into two other freezers, destroying the people's winter meat supply, and ripped the back wall out of a storage shed. People were going to their outhouses armed. The situation was becoming difficult.
Late one evening I got a call. Another neighbor had come home and found a bear in his garage. As he grabbed his 300 Winchester Magnum from behind his pickup seat the bear took off. My neighbor fired a quick shot just as the bear entered the tree line. He was certain he had hit the bear and wanted me to come over and help him look for it before it got dark.
I picked up my .458 loaded with 400gr. Barnes-x bullets and went next door to get my son and his dog to help track the bear. We followed it into a dense spruce thicket. By then we had to use our flashlights. I picked up the bears eyes no more than twenty-five feet away. Putting my crosshairs on him I snapped off a one-handed shot. It was difficult, but it connected, putting the poor fellow out of his misery.
When we examined him we found birdshot in his shoulder and neck. They must have been causing a lot of pain. The 300 win mag had caused a nasty flesh wound. My 400gr. Bullet had killed it instantly. Some may think the .458 an overkill, but under those conditions I wanted to inflict maximum damage and the .458 Winchester Magnum did just that.
Since then we had a sow and her two cubs pay us a visit. Our dog treed the cubs and sparred with the sow until my son called off the dog. That gave the sow enough of a scare that she didn’t return. I still saw bear signs around and wondered how many would survive the coming winter.
If we choose to live in the bush and share our lives with the animals we must be responsible neighbors to them. Don’t attract them with citified practices. Proper trash disposal is imperative. Keep freezers in your house. Don’t leave food in cars or hang suet bird feeders on your porch. Burning food in a burn pit is like sending up smoke signals saying “Food!” And above all don’t try and scare a bear away by injuring it. The best way to get rid of a pesky bear is to remove all enticements. Of course you can dump dog food on your neighbors property. That always works.
Marshall Warren
Saturday, June 23, 2018
HOW GREAT IS THAT LIGHT!
For 37 years I lived in darkness. Yet I thought I could see just fine. Then one day God called me and I was chosen. The light of Christ opened my eyes and I began living in His light. How wonderful is that light! I hungered and thirsted for His righteousness. I wanted to help others be delivered from darkness into His light. That’s when I realized how much darkness hates Light. I had an enemy! He came at me from every direction trying to put out the light of Christ in me. Satan knows he can’t take the Light from me. He is happy if he can trip me up and cause me to sin, so he can use me as an example to cause others to stumble.
I had cataract surgery about seven years ago. After its removal, I was shocked at how bright everything looked. I had no idea my vision was so affected, so dark. It was nice to see the brightness again. I was doing great, then last month the eye doctor said I had a cataract in my other eye, so I had cataract surgery again. Wow! I had no idea how dim my vision had become. Sometimes Satan and his demons are like cataracts, they slowly dim the light until you trip and fall into a pit of darkness.
I am so thankful for surgeons that can remove cataracts, restoring the light to our eyes. But I am so much more thankful for a loving, forgiving, praying body of Christ that can lift me out of that pit of darkness. A people willing to wash my feet and clean my garments, restoring the true Light to my eyes.
“For while I was yet a sinner Christ died for me.” He took my guilt and shame onto Himself and washed me in His blood. Now, when I fall, he picks me up, blots out my sins, and they are remembered no more.
HOW GREAT IS THAT LIGHT!
Marshall Warren
For 37 years I lived in darkness. Yet I thought I could see just fine. Then one day God called me and I was chosen. The light of Christ opened my eyes and I began living in His light. How wonderful is that light! I hungered and thirsted for His righteousness. I wanted to help others be delivered from darkness into His light. That’s when I realized how much darkness hates Light. I had an enemy! He came at me from every direction trying to put out the light of Christ in me. Satan knows he can’t take the Light from me. He is happy if he can trip me up and cause me to sin, so he can use me as an example to cause others to stumble.
I had cataract surgery about seven years ago. After its removal, I was shocked at how bright everything looked. I had no idea my vision was so affected, so dark. It was nice to see the brightness again. I was doing great, then last month the eye doctor said I had a cataract in my other eye, so I had cataract surgery again. Wow! I had no idea how dim my vision had become. Sometimes Satan and his demons are like cataracts, they slowly dim the light until you trip and fall into a pit of darkness.
I am so thankful for surgeons that can remove cataracts, restoring the light to our eyes. But I am so much more thankful for a loving, forgiving, praying body of Christ that can lift me out of that pit of darkness. A people willing to wash my feet and clean my garments, restoring the true Light to my eyes.
“For while I was yet a sinner Christ died for me.” He took my guilt and shame onto Himself and washed me in His blood. Now, when I fall, he picks me up, blots out my sins, and they are remembered no more.
HOW GREAT IS THAT LIGHT!
Marshall Warren
Thursday, May 10, 2018
S O G
(Studies and Observation Group)
Chapter 1
S O G 1962
Okinawa
A suspected temporary POW compound was reported by an aircraft. I was on the team to be sent in to recon the site. At our briefing, we were told it would be a night insertion from altitude. The brass had chosen an abandoned landing strip for the drop zone, as it was the only clear area near the site. Pictures showed cultivation, a few huts, and a road. Since we were to come and go undetected we were told to avoid those areas. We were also told to expect enemy patrols.
After landing we would conceal our parachutes and marshal at where an old road entered the airfield, then proceed to the coordinates of the suspected compound and do our “study and observation.” We would return using a different route to the landing strip for a helicopter extraction at 0400 hrs. Since this was to be an in and out operation we would travel light. Just water, radio, ammo, frags, and smoke. We were told to fall out at 1800 the next evening having had. (dinner) A simple, straight forward exercise. Should be fun.
We spent departure day studying the map, planning our route, washing all clothing and field gear with fresh water, showered the same and had no smokes. Weapons were cleaned, inspected and oil removed. All this was done to make us as odorless as possible. At 1600 we drew ordinance, at 1700 ate our evening meal of rice and fish. We put on our makeup and fell out at 1800, were inspected, then loaded a duce and a half truck and headed for the airfield.
By the time we got to Naha airbase, collected our parachutes and put them on, it was almost dark. We took off heading out into the growing darkness over the China Sea and began our climb to cruising altitude. Ceiling and visibility were unlimited, with no moon, a beautiful night for a high altitude low opening jump. As we approached the drop zone the C-130 descended to 10,000 feet, our jump altitude. We checked equipment and the crew chief lowered the loading ramp. Standing on the ramp looking into the darkness, as we waited for the green light, I thought about what I was doing. Civilian life seemed so shallow and frivolous. I yelled, “Yes!” I was 21 years old and I owned it! We rechecked our altimeters and stopwatches. “Green light!” The five of us dove out into the night.
I soon reached terminal velocity, the cool wind buffeted me. I could barely make out the slightly darker area of ground that was the landing strip, our drop zone. I watched my stopwatch and altimeter. At 2500 feet I pulled my main and felt the opening shock. The harness dug in and my head whipped forward. Then silence…. I gently swung beneath my canopy.
As I got closer to the ground I could see what appeared to be a cleared circle. I thought it was a potato patch. Using my risers I guided my parachute for it. The air was cool and calm so I set up for a standing landing in the middle of the circle. As my feet touched down I mentally complimented myself on my accuracy. Exuberance suddenly changed to shock as I sank up to my chest in the muck. My circle wasn’t a potato patch at all, but a honey bucket. (Honey bucket: a hole used to store human and animal waste to be used as fertilizer.) At our rendezvous point, I was greeted with gags and “What the hell happened to you? You smell like shit!” I replied with, “Odor camouflage. let’s move out.”
Leaving the landing strip we immediately entered the dense jungle. I was miserable, but after an hour or so my clothes were crusted and I got used to the smell. We came to the old road again. It had curved around and now cut us off. It had to be crossed. I strained to see and listen, nothing. Crossing the road in three strides I dropped out of sight in the jungle. McComber, from Deer Lodge, Montana, was next. He stepped out and was greeted by a yell from down the road. He had been spotted. Instantly Mac dove back into the jungle. I could hear them rapidly moving away as the patrol came running up the road. As they looked for the spot Mac had entered the jungle one of them turned around and walked over to my side of the road. Stopping two meters from me he sniffed the air, put his hand to his nose and walked back to the other side. Then they cautiously moved into the dark jungle in pursuit.
Alone now I was determined to finish the mission. As the stars crept across the night sky I crept through the jungle. Two hours later I broke out. Waist high saw grass ran to the coral shoreline of the China Sea about 600 meters away. The shoreline curved to my left forming a shallow bay. On the far side, maybe two klicks away, I could barely see a couple of dim lights. That was my objective.
It was dark enough that I decided to stay outside the tree line in the saw grass so as to make better time. Jogging along in the tall grass the ground suddenly disappeared. I crashed heavily into the far side of a concrete drainage ditch. My rifle and helmet went flying. Rolling around in agony I felt sure my shins were broken. Time passed and the pain subsided. Feeling my legs I was much relieved to find nothing broken. Searching blindly in the grass I recovered my rifle and helmet and began limping toward the dim lights.
Giving the place a good looking over I drew a diagram and made some notes. Mission accomplished I began my painful walk back to the extraction point. Mac and the others were already there and were busy picking leeches off each other. I didn’t have any on me. The Huey arrived right on time. I popped smoke and as the Huey hovered we scrambled aboard amid flying debris.
Back at base I reported to the Platoon leader, Lt Tersek and Platoon Sergeant Amada. I gave them my written report and briefed them on the mission as they held their noses and mumbled something about “good job.” I saluted Lt. Tersek, he reluctantly removed his hand from his nose and returned my salute.
In time my shins healed and my squad members moved back into their bunks over and next to mine. I heard nothing more about the SOG mission. I think I should have gotten the Purple Heart for being “Stinked in Action.”
Chapter 2
S O G 2013
Gustavus, Alaska
I told my grand kids about the Studies and Observation Group and suggested we form one and go exploring. They loved the idea and roped in a couple of cousins. So, SOG 2013, another mission.
I assembled my team, Observers 1st Class Jesse, Stephanie, Cody and Fisher. “All right team,” I said in my best military voice, “we have a mission. We are to move to the Jump Creek area, find a suitable location, establish a base camp and build a bridge across Jump Creek.” I continued with the briefing, “Our departure area will be the end of Trudy Lane at 0900 hrs tomorrow. Uniform will be for cold rainy weather. Equipment to be full packs including all your camping gear, tents, sleeping bags, air mattress, if you have one, food for two days, hatchet, knives, etc. and etc. Transportation to the DA will be by Mamaw’s minivan. Any questions? Good, let’s get started packing our gear.”
We left Trudy Lane at, well, close to 0900 hrs. Leaving most of our gear in the van we went looking for an appropriate site for base camp. We crossed the drainage ditch at what is now Martha’s house and followed the park line until it hit Jump Creek. (Jesse had named this nameless creek “Jump Creek” because we had to jump it to go moose hunting out passed the tree farm.) We then scouted up and down the creek until we found the perfect spot. It was on a small peninsula formed by a sharp “U” of the creek. A tree had fallen across the creek just downstream from our campsite making a great place to play. Militarily speaking.
By this time I was tired. Since my last SOG mission (over 50 years ago) my physical condition had deteriorated a little, so I sent the team back for the remainder of their gear and mine. By noon all our gear was in place. While the rest of us gathered wood Ob 1st Jesse started work on a fire. Not an easy task in this land of wet wood, but he finally managed. We all sat around the fire and had lunch. No “C” rations here.
For the next couple of hours the kids, I mean my Studies and Observation Group, reconnoitered the area while I took a nap. When I woke up I joined them on the other side of the creek. They had found a neat open grassy area that was bathed in sunlight(the sky had cleared). The eerie sounds of Snipes on the wing filled the air as we explored. The field had several round pools about fifteen feet in diameter filled with crystal clear water. The team was tempted to go swimming in one, but Ob 1st Fisher pointed out the squiggly little white worms on the bottom and they decided it was to cold to swim. The team continued to study and observe for a while then went back to finish setting up camp.
We pitched our tents, stored our gear and began to get things organized. Fixing up the campsite is the fun part. Ob 1st Stephanie and Ob 1st Fisher said they were going to build our toilet facility, so they gathered up hatchet and shovel and moved out. Ob 1st Jesse loves organizing the cooking area. A place for everything. He dug steps in the creek bank and made a little landing to stand on where we could do dishes or collect water. This activity, along with more recon (goofing around), took up the rest of the afternoon.
By 1800 hrs we had a roaring fire going and a kettle of water boiling, so we gathered around it for dinner. After saying a prayer we had pork and beans, vegetable and noodle cups(the kind you pour hot water in) and of course peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I also had a ham sandwich and topped the meal with a steaming cup of tea.
As the sun set and we watched a porcupine rustle by on the other side of the creek Ob 1st Fisher decided he had better go back home, he being our youngest member at seven years old, we understood. Ob 1st Stephanie and Ob 1st Cody volunteered to escort him home. The rest busied themselves with camp chores and I visited the outdoor privy. Ob 1st Stephanie had done a good job. The hole was neatly dug and well concealed with a spruce branch wall. She had even driven a stick in the ground next to the hole for a toilet paper holder. I later commended her on the Latrine construction.
It was just starting to get dark when Ob 1st Cody and Ob 1st Stephanie got back. I had begun to worry, we had seen bear signs so was relieved to see them. We sat around the fire talking until 2100. We were all tired so off to our tents we went. I had put a tarp under my tent to protect me from the damp moss. The tent was small so I put my pack outside under the tent fly.
I don’t know what time it started, but it poured. My little tent was warm and dry, but unfortunately the tarp under the tent filled with water. It was like sleeping on a water bed. I squished my way through the night. Next morning it was still lightly raining. My pack was sitting in three inches of water, everything in it was soaked. I had forgotten how much fun camping was. A fire was out of the question so I got out my one burner Coleman camp stove and boiled water for tea. Crouching under a spruce tree Ob 1st Jesse made watery pancake mix and one pancake at a time we had a pancake breakfast followed by bacon. It tasted wonderful!
By the time we finished cleaning up the rain had stopped, well almost. After much work and coaxing Ob 1st Jesse got a smoky little fire going. We all helped find burnable dead branches and after a while, by golly, we had a real fire. That cheered us all up. Ob 1st Jesse, in good spirit now, made a running jump across the creek. That started it. We all started jumping back and forth across the creek. After that passed we hiked up the creek beyond where we had been before. We found another “perfect” spot for a campsite. All of us agreed, next time we would camp there. By lunchtime, I was beat. The building of the bridge would have to wait for another SOG mission.
And in fact we did go back and camp at the new site and build the bridge. I’m looking forward to adding great grand children to the team. SOG’s forever!
Marshall Warren
(Studies and Observation Group)
Chapter 1
S O G 1962
Okinawa
A suspected temporary POW compound was reported by an aircraft. I was on the team to be sent in to recon the site. At our briefing, we were told it would be a night insertion from altitude. The brass had chosen an abandoned landing strip for the drop zone, as it was the only clear area near the site. Pictures showed cultivation, a few huts, and a road. Since we were to come and go undetected we were told to avoid those areas. We were also told to expect enemy patrols.
After landing we would conceal our parachutes and marshal at where an old road entered the airfield, then proceed to the coordinates of the suspected compound and do our “study and observation.” We would return using a different route to the landing strip for a helicopter extraction at 0400 hrs. Since this was to be an in and out operation we would travel light. Just water, radio, ammo, frags, and smoke. We were told to fall out at 1800 the next evening having had. (dinner) A simple, straight forward exercise. Should be fun.
We spent departure day studying the map, planning our route, washing all clothing and field gear with fresh water, showered the same and had no smokes. Weapons were cleaned, inspected and oil removed. All this was done to make us as odorless as possible. At 1600 we drew ordinance, at 1700 ate our evening meal of rice and fish. We put on our makeup and fell out at 1800, were inspected, then loaded a duce and a half truck and headed for the airfield.
By the time we got to Naha airbase, collected our parachutes and put them on, it was almost dark. We took off heading out into the growing darkness over the China Sea and began our climb to cruising altitude. Ceiling and visibility were unlimited, with no moon, a beautiful night for a high altitude low opening jump. As we approached the drop zone the C-130 descended to 10,000 feet, our jump altitude. We checked equipment and the crew chief lowered the loading ramp. Standing on the ramp looking into the darkness, as we waited for the green light, I thought about what I was doing. Civilian life seemed so shallow and frivolous. I yelled, “Yes!” I was 21 years old and I owned it! We rechecked our altimeters and stopwatches. “Green light!” The five of us dove out into the night.
I soon reached terminal velocity, the cool wind buffeted me. I could barely make out the slightly darker area of ground that was the landing strip, our drop zone. I watched my stopwatch and altimeter. At 2500 feet I pulled my main and felt the opening shock. The harness dug in and my head whipped forward. Then silence…. I gently swung beneath my canopy.
As I got closer to the ground I could see what appeared to be a cleared circle. I thought it was a potato patch. Using my risers I guided my parachute for it. The air was cool and calm so I set up for a standing landing in the middle of the circle. As my feet touched down I mentally complimented myself on my accuracy. Exuberance suddenly changed to shock as I sank up to my chest in the muck. My circle wasn’t a potato patch at all, but a honey bucket. (Honey bucket: a hole used to store human and animal waste to be used as fertilizer.) At our rendezvous point, I was greeted with gags and “What the hell happened to you? You smell like shit!” I replied with, “Odor camouflage. let’s move out.”
Leaving the landing strip we immediately entered the dense jungle. I was miserable, but after an hour or so my clothes were crusted and I got used to the smell. We came to the old road again. It had curved around and now cut us off. It had to be crossed. I strained to see and listen, nothing. Crossing the road in three strides I dropped out of sight in the jungle. McComber, from Deer Lodge, Montana, was next. He stepped out and was greeted by a yell from down the road. He had been spotted. Instantly Mac dove back into the jungle. I could hear them rapidly moving away as the patrol came running up the road. As they looked for the spot Mac had entered the jungle one of them turned around and walked over to my side of the road. Stopping two meters from me he sniffed the air, put his hand to his nose and walked back to the other side. Then they cautiously moved into the dark jungle in pursuit.
Alone now I was determined to finish the mission. As the stars crept across the night sky I crept through the jungle. Two hours later I broke out. Waist high saw grass ran to the coral shoreline of the China Sea about 600 meters away. The shoreline curved to my left forming a shallow bay. On the far side, maybe two klicks away, I could barely see a couple of dim lights. That was my objective.
It was dark enough that I decided to stay outside the tree line in the saw grass so as to make better time. Jogging along in the tall grass the ground suddenly disappeared. I crashed heavily into the far side of a concrete drainage ditch. My rifle and helmet went flying. Rolling around in agony I felt sure my shins were broken. Time passed and the pain subsided. Feeling my legs I was much relieved to find nothing broken. Searching blindly in the grass I recovered my rifle and helmet and began limping toward the dim lights.
Giving the place a good looking over I drew a diagram and made some notes. Mission accomplished I began my painful walk back to the extraction point. Mac and the others were already there and were busy picking leeches off each other. I didn’t have any on me. The Huey arrived right on time. I popped smoke and as the Huey hovered we scrambled aboard amid flying debris.
Back at base I reported to the Platoon leader, Lt Tersek and Platoon Sergeant Amada. I gave them my written report and briefed them on the mission as they held their noses and mumbled something about “good job.” I saluted Lt. Tersek, he reluctantly removed his hand from his nose and returned my salute.
In time my shins healed and my squad members moved back into their bunks over and next to mine. I heard nothing more about the SOG mission. I think I should have gotten the Purple Heart for being “Stinked in Action.”
Chapter 2
S O G 2013
Gustavus, Alaska
I told my grand kids about the Studies and Observation Group and suggested we form one and go exploring. They loved the idea and roped in a couple of cousins. So, SOG 2013, another mission.
I assembled my team, Observers 1st Class Jesse, Stephanie, Cody and Fisher. “All right team,” I said in my best military voice, “we have a mission. We are to move to the Jump Creek area, find a suitable location, establish a base camp and build a bridge across Jump Creek.” I continued with the briefing, “Our departure area will be the end of Trudy Lane at 0900 hrs tomorrow. Uniform will be for cold rainy weather. Equipment to be full packs including all your camping gear, tents, sleeping bags, air mattress, if you have one, food for two days, hatchet, knives, etc. and etc. Transportation to the DA will be by Mamaw’s minivan. Any questions? Good, let’s get started packing our gear.”
We left Trudy Lane at, well, close to 0900 hrs. Leaving most of our gear in the van we went looking for an appropriate site for base camp. We crossed the drainage ditch at what is now Martha’s house and followed the park line until it hit Jump Creek. (Jesse had named this nameless creek “Jump Creek” because we had to jump it to go moose hunting out passed the tree farm.) We then scouted up and down the creek until we found the perfect spot. It was on a small peninsula formed by a sharp “U” of the creek. A tree had fallen across the creek just downstream from our campsite making a great place to play. Militarily speaking.
By this time I was tired. Since my last SOG mission (over 50 years ago) my physical condition had deteriorated a little, so I sent the team back for the remainder of their gear and mine. By noon all our gear was in place. While the rest of us gathered wood Ob 1st Jesse started work on a fire. Not an easy task in this land of wet wood, but he finally managed. We all sat around the fire and had lunch. No “C” rations here.
For the next couple of hours the kids, I mean my Studies and Observation Group, reconnoitered the area while I took a nap. When I woke up I joined them on the other side of the creek. They had found a neat open grassy area that was bathed in sunlight(the sky had cleared). The eerie sounds of Snipes on the wing filled the air as we explored. The field had several round pools about fifteen feet in diameter filled with crystal clear water. The team was tempted to go swimming in one, but Ob 1st Fisher pointed out the squiggly little white worms on the bottom and they decided it was to cold to swim. The team continued to study and observe for a while then went back to finish setting up camp.
We pitched our tents, stored our gear and began to get things organized. Fixing up the campsite is the fun part. Ob 1st Stephanie and Ob 1st Fisher said they were going to build our toilet facility, so they gathered up hatchet and shovel and moved out. Ob 1st Jesse loves organizing the cooking area. A place for everything. He dug steps in the creek bank and made a little landing to stand on where we could do dishes or collect water. This activity, along with more recon (goofing around), took up the rest of the afternoon.
By 1800 hrs we had a roaring fire going and a kettle of water boiling, so we gathered around it for dinner. After saying a prayer we had pork and beans, vegetable and noodle cups(the kind you pour hot water in) and of course peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I also had a ham sandwich and topped the meal with a steaming cup of tea.
As the sun set and we watched a porcupine rustle by on the other side of the creek Ob 1st Fisher decided he had better go back home, he being our youngest member at seven years old, we understood. Ob 1st Stephanie and Ob 1st Cody volunteered to escort him home. The rest busied themselves with camp chores and I visited the outdoor privy. Ob 1st Stephanie had done a good job. The hole was neatly dug and well concealed with a spruce branch wall. She had even driven a stick in the ground next to the hole for a toilet paper holder. I later commended her on the Latrine construction.
It was just starting to get dark when Ob 1st Cody and Ob 1st Stephanie got back. I had begun to worry, we had seen bear signs so was relieved to see them. We sat around the fire talking until 2100. We were all tired so off to our tents we went. I had put a tarp under my tent to protect me from the damp moss. The tent was small so I put my pack outside under the tent fly.
I don’t know what time it started, but it poured. My little tent was warm and dry, but unfortunately the tarp under the tent filled with water. It was like sleeping on a water bed. I squished my way through the night. Next morning it was still lightly raining. My pack was sitting in three inches of water, everything in it was soaked. I had forgotten how much fun camping was. A fire was out of the question so I got out my one burner Coleman camp stove and boiled water for tea. Crouching under a spruce tree Ob 1st Jesse made watery pancake mix and one pancake at a time we had a pancake breakfast followed by bacon. It tasted wonderful!
By the time we finished cleaning up the rain had stopped, well almost. After much work and coaxing Ob 1st Jesse got a smoky little fire going. We all helped find burnable dead branches and after a while, by golly, we had a real fire. That cheered us all up. Ob 1st Jesse, in good spirit now, made a running jump across the creek. That started it. We all started jumping back and forth across the creek. After that passed we hiked up the creek beyond where we had been before. We found another “perfect” spot for a campsite. All of us agreed, next time we would camp there. By lunchtime, I was beat. The building of the bridge would have to wait for another SOG mission.
And in fact we did go back and camp at the new site and build the bridge. I’m looking forward to adding great grand children to the team. SOG’s forever!
Marshall Warren
Thursday, April 19, 2018
BECALMED
The current slowly carries me along to who knows where. I scan the horizon again, nothing is there.
Only yesterday, or was it the day before, a fair wind was blowing and I could see the shore.
When did it quit, I don’t even know? I wasn’t aware when it ceased to blow.
Well, I’ll close for now, since I don’t know where I’m going, and finish when the wind again starts to blowing.
Marshall Warren
Monday, April 9, 2018
BEWARE AMERICA!
"And the children of Israel did evil again in the sight of GOD, and GOD delivered them into the hand of the Philistines forty years."
Without GOD life is a pointless journey to destruction. Wake up and live! We are created beings and deeply loved by our creator, GOD. He became flesh and took the punishment for our sins. Remember, all have sinned and are in need of reconciliation with GOD. By His blood, you have been redeemed. Only believe in the Messiah Jesus, who was GOD in the flesh and suffered death that we may live.
Marshall Warren
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