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David Mitchell

Sorry, I cannot figure out how to make that smaller.

Or even make it stay on the page (9&$#N^DW@#)

Okay, not only can I NOT get the classic photo to stick, but I think we have the wrong date altogether. Why do I suddenly hear the old Southwest Airlines commercial playing in my head - "WANNA GET AWAY?"

Timothy Lavelle

To honor "the woman what birthed me" I have another story about my Mom for you. I will try my best to keep it brief.

This took place at a time when I was completing the first 15 month visit to VN. I don't have fond memories. Thought the country sucked completely. Had extended 3 extra months so I could go home at Christmas. I was desperate to make it home for what the Dispatch headlines used to read "Irish LaVelle Family Goes in Debt Again". Christmas was always over the top at our house.

With a few weeks left in country (VN) I had received orders to report to South Korea as my next duty station. I had requested Germany, the USA or Italy. As the baby of our family it was my job to whine to my Mom about being sent to Korea. Mom was already pissed at the Army.

Unbeknownst to me my Mom started by calling the recruiter. I think I told you already that "recruiter" in Army-ese translates to "serial liar". When my Mom called to complain he made the terrible mistake of telling her that what I probably needed was for her to cut the apron strings! Mothers - take a brief moment and consider what you would do or not do to a man who said something like that to you today. This was 50 years ago. Let's pause there and turn back to me in VN for a second.

I received a message that I was supposed to go see the Sergeant Major of our post. As far as I was aware, you only made that trip if you had mooned an officer or set fire to your bunk. After humbly shuffling in, I stood stiffly at attention in front of this really gruff old man with more stripes on his arm than Fletcher Christian had on his back. He looked at me and asked "Who do you know back in the US?". I told him "No one" unless it was my brother Jack the Lt Colonel Marine but he was currently serving in DaNang. After advising me that he was not sure if I was in trouble or not, he said orders had been recived countermanding the previous orders for Korea. I was to go home and wait for a call. I was totally flummoxed.

What happened? Mom hung up on the offensive recruiter and started making more calls. According to my older sister, after the mayor and the governor's office, Mom wound up on the phone with the someone from the Joint Chief's of Staff in Washington DC. My Mom would have done this for you; for me; for anyone close. She was a take no prisoners type when she thought someone had done "her peeps" wrong.

Two weeks after her phone campaign two things happened. First, she received a call from the recruiter apologizing for his poor choice of words and letting her know that he was being reassigned to VN and was told to tell her that by "someone in Washington".  Second, I was called into that Sgt. Major's office as reported above.

You'd have to understand how hated recruiter's were...all of us were told some cock n bull story by a recruiter to get us to raise our right hand. This understanding of that hate will clarify the outcome. All the guys I served with wanted to know what the hell was gooing on. I told them what my sister told me about my Mom's one woman assault on that recruiter and the whole US Army. Because she had ripped the recruiter a new one, my Mom was the heroine of everyone I knew. Everyone wanted to be her son!

My Mom got a nickname. In the weeks before I left VN to go home I got stopped by more than one stranger and asked "Is Big Sally your Mom? Man, I sure wish she was my Mom".

Big Sally. Thanks for all your help.

I made it to 70 Mom! Cheers.

David Mitchell

Tim,

I absolutely LOVE this!

You are my hero for telling this one. NO, on second thought, your Mom is (was)!

Why the hell didn't we fly her over to Hanoi herself instead of those weak, sissy little Air Force and Navy fighters, and B-52's. She'd have scared the shit out of Uncle Ho!  War over - Case closed!

------------

(and Mary Margaret - apologise on behalf of Mr.Tim.  I know Jim did some recruiting later, but back during the Nam era, thy were all congenital liars. I must have found the only semi-honest one in the Western hemishpere. Almost every other guy I knew back then got screwed. The pressure to make their monthly quotas was intense. I assumed they put their offices in the Main Post Office downtown instead of having to post their pictures out in the front lobby) 

Fred Clem

Dave, I take offense with your characterization of the "sissy little fighters".  This pilot happened to be married to my first cousin.  The anguish that she and their three daughters went through after he was listed as "MIA" was terrible.  However, the tortures he endured during 64 months at the Hanoi Hilton were indescribable.  He passed away a few years ago and now rests at Arlington, Virginia with thousands of other heros.  Here's his story:

Lt. Col. USAF (Ret) David Edward Ford, 78, of Nixa, MO passed away Tuesday, October 1, 2013. He was born to Sidney and Marjorie (Haskell) Ford, in Melrose, Massachusetts, July 25, 1935. 

Colonel Ford joined the Air Force in 1962 as an enlisted member but was quickly accepted to Officers Candidate School. After completing flight training, he served as a tactical reconnaissance fighter pilot in the Viet Nam War. Colonel Ford's plane was shot down over Viet Nam and he and his crew were captured by the North Vietnamese Communists. Lt. Col. Ford remained a prisoner of war for 5 years and 4 months of incredibly brutal and inhumane treatment. He remained steadfast in his resistance to enemy torture.

Serving with some of the bravest men ever to wear the uniform of the United States, Lt. Col. Ford was one of the most highly decorated for heroism. His many awards include the Silver Star Medal, with two oak leaf clusters, the Purple Heart, with 3 oak leaf clusters, and the Air Force Presidential Unit Citation, all awarded for valor in the face of a ruthless enemy.

James Hamilton, M. D.

Tim,

That was a wonderful tribute to your mother. She was truly, what we out west and in the PNW refer to as, a "Mama Bear" -  a loving mother but one with whose cubs you best not mess.

And I am sure she is still watching over her 70 year old cub.

Happy Birthday!

(Oh, and just for the record, sorry to say this photo was not taken in my backyard, nor by me !!!)

Jim

John Jackson

On the subject of truth-in-recruiting, I’ve really gotten into Irish/Scottish music and since we’re only three days past St. Patrick’s Day I thought I’d share this link to the song “Arthur McBride” by Irish singer Paul Brady.  It describes a Christmas morning encounter between two Irish lads (Arthur McBride and his cousin) and two English soldiers attempting to recruit/bribe young Irishmen to fight in the Napoleonic wars.  The ending is kind of violent but in those days I guess the Irish took whatever small victories they could get.

The 1977 video is fuzzy but the sound is pretty good,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cBGkhPx529g

David Mitchell

Fred (and everybody),

My sincere apologies for any misunderstanding of my post. I was actually being sarcastic and thought my use of "sissy" and "weak" would be understood in contrast to the tenacity of "Big Sally". And actually, I was referring to the planes themselves - I should have worded that more clearly.

I hope you would know that my admiration for those like your relative who endured the horrors of imprisonment by the North Vietnamese is nothing but deeply reverent. They hold a specail place in my heart.

My point was simply that I absolutely loved Tim's story!  I think it must be the single best post since Janie "lured" us onto this addiction a few years ago. 

Thanks again Tim and happy pre-birthday! 

(too bad Big Sally wasn't running the Pentagon back then)

Michael McLeod

great story, Tim.

Mark Schweickart

Tim -- This is an excerpt from my memoir that similarly recounts my mother's run-in with a recruiting officer on my behalf, although clearly not as dramatic as yours. The circumstances were quite different in that in my case I had decided at the last minute not to show up for my swearing-in induction, and he called to find out where I was. Also different was that I remained totally unaware of this conversation until many years later when my mother reflected on the event one day, much to my surprise. As Jim's photo of of the mother bear attests, a mother's protection is not to be doubted.

Later that morning, the Recruiting Officer, called the house and his mother answered the phone. She recalled, “Oh he was furious. Not at first of course, he began very courteously, but with a certain harshness in his voice that could not be completely disguised. But when I told him you had changed your mind about enlisting and that you were still sleeping, and that I was not going to wake you, well then, that was when he exploded. He berated me for having raised such a weak-willed, coddled child, who thought nothing of breaking his solemn oath to the United States government. I reminded him that you had not yet made a solemn oath, that he very well knew this because that was not going to happen until today, and the fact that you had not shown up to make this oath was the reason for his call. I told him you had every right to change your mind, and he knew that. My talking back to him only made him madder, and he blustered on about how overly protective women were creating a nation of mama’s boys, and things like that. Suddenly he seemed to be more mad at me than he was at you,” she chuckled as she told this story now so many years later.
Mark, on hearing this recounting of the story, was more than a little surprised to hear how she had been so able to stand up to him, and how indignant she became at what she considered to be a very impertinent and unjustifiably angry attitude on his part.
“You know how those Recruiting Officers were, they had quotas to reach and probably bonuses for exceeding their quotas, so no doubt that was why he was so upset. Anyway, I said to him very snippily, ‘good day, sir, I will tell him you called,’ and hung up on him. But of course I didn’t. Until today that is. You were so unpredictable back then, I was afraid if I told you he called, you might call him back at let him talk you into signing up again.”
Mark was amazed that she had been so ready to fight his battles for him back then. He had had no idea that she was even like that, nor that this phone call had transpired. He was even more amazed that she never got around to telling him this until 35 years later.

Jeanine Eilers (Decker)

Tim and Mark--

As a Marine mom, I totally get this.  When my youngest left for Iraq, I was told he would call me within two days.  Two days passed.  No call.  I called the local recruiter, told him my plight and asked him if he had called his mother two days after he had shipped out in the past.  He made a mistake and said yes.  I told him if I didn't hear from my son in twenty-four hours I would be at the base gate in California with Laura Bush (George W was president then) and there would be hell to pay.  He said, "Yes, ma'am."  Laura Bush didn't know me from a hole in the wall, but it worked.  Within three hours the phone rang and my son said, "Mom, what did you do?!?!"  His CO had come running down the the hall shouting, "Decker, call your mother...NOW.''  We had a comforting--for me--conversation.

Timothy Lavelle

Hey, thank you for the nice comments. Mark, that's an excellent exerpt and just goes to show the quiet strength that a Mother can bring to bear when put into a verbal corner by an rude male. Isn't it telling of their generation that they had that strength but never bragged of the events. 

Fred, he was a true hero. Thanks for that post. None of us can imagine, not in our worst dreams, the horrible times he and others like John McCain went through. Demeaning those men, who were captured while defending their nation, by saying "I prefer people who don't get caught"...Jeez, can't remember where I heard that but the guy who said that must have been a total ass, right?

Jeanine, On my first writing I did not see your post. When we moved to St Agatha I recall my Mom knowing your Mom. Not much else, just that. She sure trained you well if that's where you got the brass ones you used to make sure you heard from the young man. Semper Fi to both of you leathernecks.   

David Mitchell

Right!

Mary Clare Hummer (Bauer)

Mother of the Year to you, Jeanine. And to Big Sally and Mark’s Mom, too. Love all your reminiscences. 

Clare

David Mitchell

Mom's Rock!

Being rather self absorbed ("no kidding Dave") I never thought much about how much I put my Mom through as I grew up - especially when I went of to join my "Uncle Sam's Flying Club for College Droputs" (Army Rotary Wing) and took those long trips to a less congenial corner of the planet. It never hit me untill I had been back a while. And when it finally hit me, It really hit me!  What she, and they, and many of you have endured is cause for wonder. 

Mom's worry. Mom's watch and wait. Mom's perservere. Moms will hiss and bite. Moms never give up. 

I was a "Momma's Boy" all the way. Mom was good at loving, and laughing. She was good at hugging and kissing, and telling me how much she loved me, and what a good boy I was (or was going to be right after she spanked me). She was that way with everybody. She was good at caring, and helping and "suggesting". She was good at being loyal to her family and friends. She was good at holding her opinions to herself until just the right moment, which gave her great credibility. She was even good at putting Father Foley in his place when he needed to be told.

And Mom was good at something else. Everybody including my Dad (a coffee addict) used to say "Dorothy Mitchell made the best cup of coffee" they ever tasted. The funny thing was, she never drank coffee herself. Don't think she ever even tasted it. As a total non-coffeee drinker myself, I would not know this if I hadn't heard it from others so many times, over and over. But she got the joy of doing it for them anyway. In a funny way, this made me think of my Mom. She brewed a lot of good coffee!

(I especially love the final caption)

Michael McLeod

When I was drafted and headed overseas -- I lucked out and went to germany to carry documents around a nato headquarters in Heidelberg --  my parents took me to a restaurant near campus that is long gone now - I forget the name; it will come to me. Oh, the Jai Lai.

I looked over at a man sitting at a table by himself and saw that it was Woody Hayes.

I would have been way too shy to go over and talk to one of the idols of my youth. I just gaped at him and said:

"I'd rather meet him than the pope."

My mother grabbed me by the hand, dragged me over to his table, and said: "This is my son, Michael. And he said he would rather meet you than the pope." 

And Woody shook my hand and said: "Well, the pope doesn't have a football team."

Grateful to my mother for that, and for the many ways she showed me to be yourself, to connect with others, to take that first step - the one you don't want to take - and then the next, and the next, and the next.

James Hamilton, M. D.

Joseph D. McCarthy

I hate to be the bearer of BAD NEWS (NO Dave I'm not with the Bad News Bears).

For all of you turning 70 1/2 years young this year your Uncle Sam has a message for you.  If you have a 401k, I.R.A. (NOT ROTH), or similar retirement savings (e.g. Thrift Savings Plan) you MUST start taking payments and including them in 2018 Income for tax purposes.  Yes Al the Offshore account in Southern Ohio counts!!!

Joe

David Mitchell

Mike,

I'm sure you've heard the one about the big All-American football player from Ohio State who died and went to heaven. St. Peter was showing him around all the grand facilities - the streets of gold - the gorgeous gardens - the magnificnet football stadium, and so on. Peter lead the guy inside for a glimpse of a game going on down on the field, with 300,000 cheering fans and a stout man pacing along the sidelines in front of one of the teams. He had heavy rimmed glasses, a short sleeved white shirt, and a black baseball cap with a scarlet "O" on it. The player stared down for a moment and gasped, "Oh my gosh is that Woody Hayes?"  St. Peter said, "Oh no, that's just God - He thinks he's Woody Hayes!

David Mitchell

I'm just wondering if there will be fireworks in Mossy Rock, WA tonight? Maybe speeches down at town hall with the mayor? Or a gala parade with all the pickup trucks and riding mowers in town?  (Or Not)

Whoo Hoo !

John Maxwell

David Mitchell

Thanks Jack. Sorry to hear this. What a shame.

Life is weird - sometimes hard, but it's still sweet. I think you and I are among the lucky ones.

Like the video says "Savor the coffee - not the Cups"

p.s. Wayne Woodrow H. was into a lot of behind-the-scenes good works. 

James Hamilton, M. D.

Dave et.al.,

Another Woody story:

As a med student at OSU one of my mentors/attending physicians was Dr. Bertha Bouroncle (pronounced Bur-ahn-clee), an internationally known hematologist who was the first female professor in the state of Ohio and the researcher who first described an entity known as Hairy Cell Leukemia. In those days, before oncology became a separate specialty, hematologists cared for most all cancer patients in addition to those with benign and malignant blood disorders. That included children with leukemia, which was at that time, a diagnosis that would be fatal.

Whenever Dr. Bouroncle had a child with such a prognosis she would call Woody and he, sometimes with some of his players, would go over to Children's Hospital to visit and thrill those sick kids. All it took was a phone call from one of the most noted physicians in the world to one of the most famous coaches and soon a child's fantasy was fulfilled. This was years before Make-a-Wish Foundation was available.

Gruff and cantankerous on the gridiron, loved by Buckeyes, hated by Wolverines and other opponents, Woody was indeed a person of hidden compassion.

Jim

Fred Clem

Another WWH story:

On a Sunday evening in January 1969 the phone rang at our house.          I answered it and the voice on the other end asked "Is this the Clem household?".  When I said yes he replied "This is Coach Hayes from Ohio State, I would like to talk to a parent of John Clem". 

I advised him John (BWHS '64) is my brother and neither of my parents were at home.  He then related he had just returned from a tour of military bases in Vietnam.  He asked the groups he met if anybody was from central Ohio.  He would then get their family's phone number and promised to contact them when he returned home. 

I later learned he flew to Vietnam from California on January 2, the day after the Buckeyes defeated OJ and his fellow USC Trojans in the Rose Bowl. 

Mom was so happy that he took time to call but upset she wasn't home to speak to him herself.  

David Mitchell

Great stories Jim and Fred,

And this is the first I'd heard about him going to Vietnam - and especailly on that date. That is the game I listend to in the middle of the night - - my earlier post about my adjustment to the Malaria pill and the rat that scared it all out of me on a middle of the night (failed) dash for relief.

Reminds me of another story about this same bunch of Scarlet and Gray Warriors playing another "little school up North" the following year. I'll save it for another time. 

Fred Clem

Dave, 

John met Woody in Qui Nhon.  I think the Coach made at least 4 trips to Viet Nam.  He was usually accompanied by Bill Hess, the Ohio University football coach.