An Egregious Omission Corrected

Far too long ago, now over a month, my co-blogger at Mockingbird's Medley, Scorpio, named unsolicited Opinion as one of her 10 excellent blog selections. It took me a few days to spot her post and I very much appreciated her thought. I immediately resolved to thank her but I was supposed to also pass on the love to my ten most excellent blog choices. That bogged me down and inertia took its due course and I am now just acknowledging her recognition.

I still don't have my ten excellent blog selections. I can name plenty but for every one I name, I'm probably excluding another, so I'll just thank you all for your contributions to my continuing enlightenment.

Another War Story

Saw a story today about four photographers killed when their chopper went down in Laos during the February 1971 incursion by the South Vietnamese Army (ARVN)into that country to attack North Vietnamese bases there. The operation, Lam Son 719, was intended to showcase South Vietnamese military prowess. It turned into a rout, complete with photos of ARVNs hanging on to the sides of a chopper fleeing the scene. This is four years before the iconic photos of the rooftop evacuation in Saigon but it has much the same feel. It was pretty much a "defining moment" (to borrow a contemporary usage) for the South Vietnamese; it told me that they could never defeat the North.

I haven't found that 1971 photo but I came across a site by American chopper pilots who flew much of the support for the operation. Their comments and photos will tell you how fucked up it was. I have always thanked my lucky stars that I did not take the Army up on its offer of flight school--I would have been a 23 year old cherry pilot arriving just in time for this clusterfuck:

The whole thing was chaos. The ONLY reason there was ONLY 106 aircraft lost and 65 crewmen killed from 08 Feb 71 to 20 Mar 71 was because of the determination of the teenagers flying the aircraft who decided THEY were not going to let their friends down. Had NOTHING to do with getting the mission done. Had everything to do with NOT letting your buddy down.

The story triggered some memories. As it was I was involved with Lam Son 719 even though I passed on flight school. Indirectly involved, I guess I should say. Like really, really indirectly involved. Affected more than involved. I was a grunt in the mountains north and east of Bien Hoa, a member of the air mobile 1st Cavalry Division. We made combat assaults by helicopter. By mid February 1971 I had made maybe a half dozen "assaults", all of which were uneventful, no hostile fire. Flying was nerve-wracking but also strangely exhilarating, if for no other reason than the cool air blowing through the open cabin and the forever view of a lush countryside. Somehow, war could almost seem far away even flying into it. I never felt comfortable in a chopper but recognized it for the luxury it was--a distance that I did not have to walk. You can get a bit of the feel of "rotary wing" aircraft operations here.

But suddenly, no choppers were to be had. They were all up in Laos with the ARVNs in some big operation, we were told. So we went out by truck to some drop off and began walking. I'm pretty sure we had only two trucks, a deuce and a half and a 3/4 ton Jeep pick up truck. The latter was the truck we used for hauling garbage on the firebase, on this day became "combat assault by garbage truck". I thought the term was fully appropriate for the war I was fighting.

Later we heard the news about the fiasco. No one was surprised. Most of us had little regard for ARVNs and absolutely no trust in them. We knew that the future of the war would depend on them because we were all going home within a year and even more significant, so was the US Army. The 101st Airborne pulled out in March 1971. By May, the First Cavalry Division went home to Fort Hood, leaving behind a separate brigade that of four infantry battalions, including my own. All the guys in the 101st and other Cav units who weren't short were transferred to the remaining brigade and left to fight on.

By this time I knew the other side would win. Hell, they hid their food under rocks in the woods and we--the most powerful military in the world--could not defeat them. They What I saw and knew of the South Vietnamese Army was pathetic compared to what I saw and new about the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong. who were disciplined, dedicated and motivated. It was only a matter of time and the clock finally ran out in April 1975.

Blown Away

That’s how I feel about Olympia after the past couple days. All I can say is “Wow.” My neighbor, Mel, and I went to the Student Orchestras of Greater Olympia Spring Concert on Sunday and discovered that this area can field probably two full student symphony orchestras from local music programs. They performed in three ensembles, each demonstrating amazing proficiency.

First was a Debut Orchestra of elementary and middle school musicians, who played pieces that emphasized individual sections. Without my program, I don’t recall the titles but I think one was an Irish Suite. They also did very well cranking out a fast paced tune like Brahm’s Radetzky(?) March. They were pretty amazing. Not a few were pretty small kids but they performed as an orchestra and played well..

Second up was the Academy Orchestra–middle and intermediate high school musicians. This ensemble performed a couple pieces that created sound and movement. (Is that a tone poem?) One was The Cat Waltz or something like that. The other was an urban intersection whose title escapes me. The Academy Orchestra’s finale was a Dvorak Slavonic Dance , maybe No. 26, a fairly challenging–and a personal favorite–work that requires some skill and precision. They did well..

A Brass Choir performed next. French horns, trombones, trumpet and tuba. About 12 in all. These musicians were from the Conservatory Orchestra and were very proficient. I don’t recall the titles but at least one was familiar.

After intermission the Conservatory Orchestra came on stage. Tuning up, they impressed me as an ensemble with a force and presence. I realized that sense of power and command was missing in the previous ensembles. Where they had been tentative, this orchestra sounded mature. That showed in their performance. First off was a young woman soloing on French horn, playing a Saint Saens concerto. She was damn good on what is apparently a very difficult instrument. My neighbor told me that a French horn scholarship at Boston College went unused for years because few even attempted to master this instrument. This particular French horn concerto was performed well but it sounded more to me like “here’s what I can do with this instrument” than a piece I would hear for enjoyment. Still, it was an intense, impressive performance.

The evening’s major piece was Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9, From the New World, another favorite and a demanding work that showcased the entire orchestra. The orchestra built the tension well across the various instrumental sections. The French horns, even in the solos, sounded very much a part of the piece. Same with all the other instruments. The full orchestra was 58 members, all of whom knew what they were doing. The final movement was filled with sound and passion as came to a resounding climax. All this from high school students. It’s enough to give me hope for the future.

Not that I didn’t hear flat notes, especially in the highest ranges, now and then, more with the younger musicians than the older. If anything, the concert demonstrates the musicians’ growth and development, which was as much fun as the music itself. . These students are not masters but many showed the dedication and skill to become masters. That this music happens at all for these students is far more important than the occasional dropped note.

So the concert was good, and cheap entertainment ($10) on a Sunday afternoon. Mel and I walked back to his place on a pleasant sunny afternoon. Walking in downtown Olympia is very pleasant. The area retains much of its original architecture and street scape. In many places the curbing has been redesigned to calm traffic and facilitate pedestrian street crossing. It’s much like walking in an earlier America populated with the diversity of 21st century northwest diversity.

To top it all off, I visited the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge yesterday on my way back from a trip to Tacoma. Much of the refuge is visible from I-5 about 10 miles east of Olympia. I’ve driven past it many, many times. This time I stopped to check it out. The refuge straddles the Nisqually River and the delta where it flows into Puget Sound. I walked a couple miles along a nature trail that took me past a couple of very large barns (the land was a dairy farm in the last century) and along the river. I could see across the marshes to Puget Sound and the snow-capped Olympic Mountains in the far distance. Wildlife was abundant–lots of geese, ducks and many smaller birds I did not recognize. I caught a glimpse of a heron or kingfisher along the river but only fleetingly through the brush.

Spring is definitely coming to the refuge. The trees are sprouting fat buds and green is pushing up through last year’s gray-brown detritus. Flowering buds here and there, green foliage beginning to show on the undergrowth. Enough of everything to clearly announce Spring’s arrival but not enough to close in the forest just yet. This spring in particular is characterized by changeable weather. Yesterday was no different. Lots of sun and partly cloudy skies all morning. By the time I reached Nisqually, skies were more overcast, with some dark clouds in the west. Sure enough by the time I had been walking just a short while, hail flurries were falling. By the time I reached my turnaround point, a much larger dark cloud was heading over. This, too, was hail but it was a steady down pour, the crystals bouncing off my jacket and along the ground. I didn’t get too wet but I did learn that hail stings very lightly when it hit my face.

Music and nature. I am a very, very fortunate man.