Daddy's On the Wall

Viet Nam and the war fought there have left a lasting scar on the psyche of the United States that will never be erased but will, like all scars, fade in time to be almost unnoticed. About 14 years ago I visited the Vietnam War Memorial on the mall in Washington, D.C. As always, I was moved as I walked slowly down that gleaming black wall inscribed with the names of the fallen, the missing and the POW's who have never come home. I saw more than a few names of friends, buddies and team members inscribed there from my 3+ years of duty in the war zone.. As usual my eyes filled with tears, a huge lump arose in my throat and I was overcome with a strange sense of relief, guilt and melancholy. I noticed a young lady with her had against a name on the wall, silently crying and whispering. She seemed so forlorn and so alone. I asked her if she was OK. She replied that she was, but had come to tell her dad that she was going to get married and ask his blessing. She explained to me that her dad had been killed at Ia Drang, in the II Corps sector of the Central Highlands of South Viet Nam. I knew it well! My unit worked that area on a regular basis. She told me that her mom was 5 ½ months pregnant when her dad had been killed. She never knew her dad but she knew of him and loved him none the less. She explained that several times each year she would come to Washington from her home in Raleigh, NC, just to commune with her father. It made her feel comforted and she felt that it kept him in the family loop, so to speak. Her mom had remarried when this young lady was 8 years old and she agreed that she loved her step-father, another Nam vet. It he who had brought here here at age 9 to see her dad and it he who had explained to her the feelings of Nam vets. He encouraged her to come to see her dad here at "the W" and to communicate with him there. I was moved beyond words for the love of this living vet to share the joys of a daughter with his departed comrade in arms. I have often thought about this incident over the years.

If you have never visited this hallowed memorial in Washington, plan to do so. It something needs to be done so the wounds can be healed albeit, scarred by the treatment of the Nam vets by their nation. Now people like Jane "Hanoi Jane" Fonda, a traitor of the worts kind, espouse their "sorrow" at having acted as they did. I will never accept her apology! I forgive her but I cannot and will not accept her apology. It is too little, too late and way too insincere! Nam vets have made it a point to never ever allow another vet to come home from battle without a hearty... "Thanks for your service, well done and welcome home!" being offered to them......warrior-to-warrior!

At the time of this incident I wrote a piece about this but could not bring myself to publish it. Now I feel that it is time to do so.

MY DADDY'S ON THE WALL

My daddy's on the wall,
He sees me as I come to him.
He is safe here with his brother warriors.
His honor shines through!

Warriors died so others might live,
Here those warriors are honored,
As no where else are they so seen.
Bless the fallen warriors, bless my daddy!

My mom has told me of my daddy,
My aunts and my uncles also,
so him, I have come to know!
All of the fallen are here to see their kin!

America turned on these brave warriors,
But some of us never did!
Pride is what I feel but sadness as well,
As I come to talk to my daddy!

Only warriors know truly how the fallen feel,
Yet many falsely claim to know.
As I touch this cold, black wall,
I feel his spirit and his love for me!

I am your child father come to see you!
Please know how I love you.
Make my loneliness fade with your spirit.
Know me as your child!

Know my life as I grow and flower,
Know my children as they come to me.
Be aware of our family in life,
As we honor you in death!

Rest easy father I am here,
My love as your child is my only offering.
Accept my love and my pride,
Daddy I love you!


Copyright © 2009 Donald R Houston, PhD. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without the author's consent.

Sakartvelo - Georgia: Warm & Friendly

Sakartvelo - Georgia: Warm & Friendly

Georgians by nature are basically warm, friendly people just as for much of the year Georgia itslef is a warm & inviting country. Tbilisi,is the capital of this Caucasian city, the former Soviet, Republic of Georgia called by Georgians, Sakartvelo.

Throighout recorded history, Georgians have been famous for their hospitality to strangers. Ancient Greeks knew Georgia as the land of the Golden Fleece. It was a woman, St. Nino, who brought Christianity to Georgia in 330 A.D. Georgian wine has been produced for more than 4,000 years. Georgian literature dates back to the 5th century A.D. Scholars have compared the 12th century Georgian poet, Shota Rustaveli, to Dante & Shakespeare. Georgia is also believed to have the oldest spoken language with its own unique alphabet.

It is an magnificently beautiful country that exists at junction of 2 continents, Europe & Asia. Georgia is around 70.000 square kilometers in size. The northern boundary is formed by Caucasus Mountain Range & the western boundary is the shoreline of the Black Sea. The country's population of 5,000,000+ people is composed of more than 80 ethnologies with Georgians prevailing at 70%.

Georgians are mostly Eastern Orthodox in religion but Jews, Muslims & Roman Catholics also exist there in harmony. There are some pagan ethnic groups also in the more remote parts of the mountains as well. Some of the oldest churches in Christendom exist in Georgia.

Georgian Weather
Weather in Georgia is pretty much Mediterranean in type except high in the Caucasus Mountains which are snow capped all year long. Georgia is hot in summer & cool in winter. Rain is not a problem as it does not rain or snow much during the year. The norm for Georgia is sunny weather with decent temperatures.

Tbilisi
Tbilisi, capital and largest city of Georgia, is situated on the Kura River in a valley sheltered by the Caucasus Mountains. The word Tbilisi derives from "tbili" meaning warm in Georgian.

There are 2 versions of this foundation story. This one is the one seeming most realistic. According to the legend, Georgian King Vahtang Gorgasaly was falcon hunting in an area where he was thinking of building a new capital. His falcon caught a bird, but dropped it. This bird was found later in a hot stream boiled & ready to be eaten for lunch. Tbilisi got its name partly from the warm springs found in the area. These hot streams are very healthy mineral sources long used for in Tbilisi Turkish baths 19th and 20th centuries. You can still visit these Turkish baths. They are situated in one of the old parts of the city. These baths as well as the buildings surrounding them are worth a visit. Tbilisi is a big city as well as a city of a minimum of 3 contrasts. Tbilisi's very old city is pretty, interesting & attractive like all very old cities everywhere. Tbilisi the pre-Soviet city has a neo-European architecture that is both attractive & functional. Tbilisi the Soviet city was built for practicality. The city is busy with lots of eateries, and the supermarkets are filled with lots of imported goods. The local produce is of excellent quality & of great variety along with being very reasonably priced. Food is the soul of Georgia. The cuisine is old, a mixture of Asian, Mediterranean, Greek & Slavic. Wine was invented in ancient Georgia so the wines there are beyond pale. Eating & drinking is part of the culture as well as a way of life.

Georgia is not on the tourist trail.....yet.....but it is going to be soon. People who have visited there on business love it. I am entranced by the people, the culture & the cuisine. Go there now to have wonderful, pleasant & low cost vacation. Remember that Helen of Troy was a Georgian woman! Those ancient Greeks knew that georgia was a great place to visit!

Sources:

http://www.sakartvelo.com

http://embassy.mfa.gov.ge/index.php?lang_id=GEO&sec_id=2

http://www.internet.ge/en

Giyorgi Vashavilli, PhD., Tbilisi-Goergia

Dr. Arakles Beleshvili, Batumi-Georgia

Dr. Galina Vernadzhe, Tbilisi-Georgia

An Old Soldier

An Old Soldier

My first introduction the man was on the operating table in a Ukrainian hospital Kyiv. The patient was prepped for surgery or so we were told. We stepped into the room, gowned, masked & ready to film the below-knee amputation of his right leg. In a US hospital the patient would have been totally unconscious, not so here! He was under a "saddle-block", spinal anesthetic and thus he was wide-awake, talkative and immediately asked in Russian, "Who are these men?"

I replied in Russian that we were Americans who had come to film his surgery & to train his surgeons in a new technique for his faster reception of his new prosthetic leg. "Good! I want to get my new leg so I can once again go dancing with the beautiful women of Kyiv! I like Americans! I met many in Berlin after we killed Hitler!" was his enthusiastic reply then he began with, "American? Do you have Lucky Strike cigarettes? I like such cigarettes. I trade Americans for them in Berlin in 1945 & 1946." Obviously this man had been part of the Russian occupation forces after WW-2 in Berlin, Germany

After assuring him that we had none, his surgeon began what in the USA would have been a longer surgery than we observed there in Kyiv. In about 12 minutes the lower leg was removed. My team colleague then began to demonstrate to the Ukrainian doctors how to bandage then cast the stump so that the very next day this patient could apply weight to the limb with temporary prostheses in place. The norm then was approximately 90-days before the prosthetic limb would be introduced. That meant that learning to balance, use the prosthetic limb, re-develop the remaining musculature, etc. all took much more time than necessary. In the following weeks working with this man daily, we came to know him. His name was Yuri Pavelovich Tushenko. He had been a soldier, scout, with the Russian Army. Yuri bears no enmity towards Germans but likes Americans & British much better. He had a cheerful demeanor, was always optimistic, applied himself to his task and became our friend.

Yuri was a beekeeper, a honey producer, ranked as a Master of this craft. You need to know that since ancient, pagan times, beekeepers-honey makers-mead makers have been accorded a place in the culture of high status. In pagan times they were minor priests. In modern times this is a scientifically oriented craft that still has high status even during the Soviet Era. Yuri has many friends, relatives & customers who we came to know as well.

Yuri's daughter, Svetlana, was a nurse in this same hospital. She was the one who encouraged him to come to our diabetes foot & leg clinic where he was seen, treated for some leg ulcers & eventually was scheduled for this necessary surgery caused by the diabetic nueropathy in his right leg. His sons, Igor & Nikolay, were also there to greet him when he came out of surgery. They were with their children, all 14 of Yuri's grandchildren, as well as several of his neighbors. We were proudly introduced to all of these people by Svetlana, whom we already knew, as she was a nurse in our diabetes programs at this particular hospital Darnitsa District Hospital & Institute of Medicine.

The next morning at 10:00AM, we arrived with the temporary prosthetic limb for Yuri. He was sitting on his bed waiting for us. As we entered the room his face lit up with huge smile & his booming, "Dohbray Ootrah doctors!" was heard in Chernobyl some 88 miles away! He insisted on giving each of us a big Russian bear-hug & kissing us resoundingly on both cheeks in the traditional manner. I told him we were happy to see him and he again asked about the lucky Strike cigarettes.

He began the slow, painful process of learning to use a prosthetic limb. His spirits never drooped, his enthusiasm was infectious & he proudly berated the other patients that with statements like, "You can do this also! You are afraid of small pain! I have beaten down this small pain & I am now walking again!" It worked, within a week, 4 of these patients had requested the necessary surgery to alleviate their suffering.

He was released from the hospital to his daughter's home on the 4th. day post-surgery. I rode with him in the team van as we transported there. When we arrived he got out, settled his crutches and began to head for the front door of the building where their flat was on the 4th floor. He made it with no difficulties. Once we were in the elevator he began to tell me of the wonderful meals he was going to eat all made by his daughter for him. Svetlana was there to, open the door as we got off of the elevator. I could smell many good things cooking in her flat as he stood in the open doorway. "Welcome my home doctors!" she greeted us after kissing her dad.

Yuri's wife, Alla, was dead, she had died 3 years before of cardiovascular complications. After her death, he began to ignore his diabetic regimen that allowed him to stay in control of his diabetes. This is what led to his amputation. He had bounced back however. His indomenitable spirit took over once more and he began to live again.

In the days & weeks that followed Yuri made great progress. In 2 weeks time he left his daughter's home & went back to his home. Yuri does not live in one of the Stalin-era, multi-story buildings. Yuri's house is a 19th. century cottage, located in the Northeast outskirts of Kyiv. In the surrounding 4 hectares of land were many beehives, several sheds & a barn for Yuri's goats.

Yuri took us into his house. His grand-daughter, Olga, a blond, blue eyed beauty of 19 is going to stay with him for a few weeks until he feels secure in his balance & is able to work again without assistance. His apprentices, Pavel & Mikhail, met us at the door. They are good looking, strapping lads aged,17 & 19, who look at Yuri with respect & affection. Mikhail speaks very good English. His mother is a professor of English at Taras Shevchenko National University in Kyiv. His dad is a chemical engineer. Pavel's mother is there with a Ukrainian meal of vareniky, borsch, kapusta, Oliver salad & keffir. We are introduced to Nadya, who is a doctor at "Okmadet" the largest pediatric hospital in Ukraine. The meal was delicious. Yuri took us on tour of his apiary. He has some 90+ hives there and another 200 hives on farms in the area surrounding Kyiv. He & his 2 apprentices work with the farmers to gather the honey. This honey is shared with the farmers on a 70-30 basis with Yuri getting the 70%. The farmers get more honey than they use so they can sell the surplus at the renoks (bazaars) to provide an extra income for their families.

Yuri's goats are milked & the milk is sold to a dairy producer who comes by daily. Yuri retains enough for his use & makes some of it into really tasty cheese. Yuri lacks for nothing to do! He has a large collection of stamps, wonderful collection of butterflies & a large library of books.

It was 4 months after Yuri's surgery & I was again back in Kyiv after a 10 week trip back to the USA. Yuri met me as entered the offices of Orto-Tek, the Ukrainian firm that supplied his prosthetic limb. He was standing without crutches. He had no crutches with him! He walked to greet me & observed a slight limp but he was steady & firm in his gait. After he was finished giving my hug & the obligatory kisses up my cheeks he began to regale me with his adventures with a new leg!

Every time I go to Kyiv I make it appoint to go to see Yuri. He is one of several people that make my adopted home town feel like home. Yuri will soon be 92. He is spry, teaches 4 apprentices, does indeed go to dances held by his civic committee each month & has never given in to the temptation to once again allow his diabetes to get out of control. He danced at His grand-daughter, Olga's, wedding last year. His sons & daughters are proud of this man who survived the harshness of WW-2, the times under the oppression of the Soviet Union, the death of his wife & is truly a man of the world with friends & colleagues all over the globe.

I consider it an honor to have been part of the effort to bring advances in techniques of surgery to Ukraine. It has been my great honor to come the wonderful people & culture of Ukraine. Strong people with a desire for life, a deep faith in their nation & all of them are making it in the economic chaos that followed the collapse of the Soviet. Yuri epitomizes the majority of these great folks!

Copyright © 2006 Donald R Houston, PhD. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without the author's consent.

Societal Manipulation of Values

Societal Manipulation of Values

Is it just me or is anyone else bothered by the fact that daily we are having our personal ability to choose between right & wrong, safe & unsafe, rational thought & irrational thought taken away from us by society? In the past 60+ years since the end of WW-2 we, as a nation, have allowed ourselves to be manipulated by the political hacks, the control freaks of our society & by our own apathy.

In the early 1950's Sen. McCarthy rampaged throughout our society under the guise of a Senatorial investigation seeking "Reds" a.k.a. Communists. We were spoon fed the pablum of his sick & biased propaganda supported by such luminaries as the now known pervert, J. Edgar Hoover, head of the FBI. Later we were spun tales that were promulgated as fact about Viet Nam that resulted in our entering, fighting & eventually abandoning a war there. Closer to home we have allowed ourselves to have our ability to think & choose what is good for us taken away by legislation. Case in point, seatbelt laws & motorcycle helmet laws. These do need to be laws. They should be insurance regulations...no seat belt in use then your insurance policy is null & void! No helmet on while riding then your insurance is null & void.

Remember the dumb old bat who spilled hot coffee in her lap because she was too stupid to take proper precautions? McDonald's got sued for millions & they had to pay to this moronic woman because an equally moronic judge allowed this case to be heard rather than throwing it out as a frivolous case. Our society has become the laughing stock of the world because of such asinine acts. Recently I saw a candy bar wrapper that has the admonishment upon it, " Remove wrapper before eating." Does anyone else see the ludicrous & utterly unintelligent reasoning behind this?

Now we have websites that want us to pry into the lives of our kids under the guise of being good parents. If the kids are raised right, given the right values & taught the difference between right & wrong they do not need nor should they have to suffer the intrusion of adults into what little kid life they have in today's world. The rating system for TV, movies, music, games, etc. is way too much control. I want the ability to decide what I or what my kids or grandkids can see, experience, etc. not some group somewhere who has no idea what me & my family can or cannot handle or deal with. We are beating dead horses here. Too much micro-management of our lives is not good. We see it in the work place all too often where it has become the rule rather than the infrequent occurrence.

Several years ago I was told by a pert, young manager-type that I just did not have the education to understand what she was talking about nor did I have the experience of managing large numbers of employees. (She was not over me but rather a co-manager but she assumed that she ran the enntire department including my sector & very other manager's sector.) I responded with my usual retort..."I have 3 bachelor degrees, 2 master's degrees & 2 PhD's. What is it that you think I cannot understand. I have managed & overseen as many as 3300 people at once in several languages in multiple nations or several continents. So what can be so difficult about dealing with 17 people?" I was working at apart-time job at the time trying to decide if I wanted to fully retire or go back into my field full-time. The individual in question was a new MBA with almost no experience in her level of management much less in dealing with people or getting to know something her subordinates. She was the epitome of a typical micro-manager!

Between insurance companies, employers, government bureaucracies, society in general & our own apathy to make this cease happening has made us a nation of sheep! I am not a sheep! I am thinking person with reasonable intelligence who wants to take control of my entire life not just those parts that the powers-that-be will allow me to control. What about you? Do you really feel as if you need to be coddled, looked out for & micro-managed? I do not!

Copyright © 2007-2009 Donald R Houston, PhD. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without the author's consent.

Smoke On The Wind

There was a smoky odor on the wind as the breeze blew in from the west. We were easing along a footpath just below the crest of a ridge looking for signs of recent passage by humans. The ridge had just turned west from a northerly direction. As soon as we turned to the west the smoky odor became prevalent and was getting stronger!

Y Tal, our point-man, signaled to halt & take cover. We did so noiselessly. He snaked his way back to my position and began to whisper to me in Vietnamese that he had located a small village of "rotting people." Y Tal was a Rhade Montagnard tribesman in his late 20's, a sergeant in the MIKE Force. He was a veteran of 12 years of MIKLE Force duty and knew his craft as a warrior. Rotting people is what the Rhade called lepers.

We edged up to the edge of the tree line onthe ridge above the village some 60 feet below us. Once there I signaled 2 of my MIKE Force scouts to flank our position by 50 feet each way long the ridge. I sent 1 man back over the ridge as a rearguard as well. That left me with Y Tal & 2 other men. We watched as life went on unsuspecting in this village of lepers.

Some of the people looked normal. Most did not look at all normal as they were not whole physically. Lom, a Jarai tribesman and MIKE Force trooper, came back from the northern flank to tell us that he found another trail. I sent him back to scout the trail.

After about an hour he returned to tell us that he had found a larger village about 1 ½ klicks away to the north. By now we had identified the lepers as being Mnung Montagnards, a tribe known to us as mostly friendly and one from which we had recruited many MIKE Force troops. Y Tal & Lom agreed that we should send Bih R'ri,a Mnung MIKE Force trooper down into the leper village to make contact with these folks. This was done as we we moved into another over-look position. Bih R'ri, returned. He reported that there was indeed a larger village just to the north of this leper village. They were indeed Mnung, his people, although they were from another clann group than his own. They were known to him and with his confirmation we went down into the village where we met with the chief, a man with no nose, no fingers on his left hand and no toes on either foot. He asked us if we could provide medial assistance to his people.

I asked for him to accompany us to the larger village. He agreed and we set out to go there immediately. We were met by the village elders. Several young men wearing pieces of MIKE Force tiger-stripe jungle uniforms were there as well. Lom recognized one fo them and told me that he had been wounded at Dak Pek the previous spring.

I got on the radio and called in for a Civil Affairs team to be dispatched along with a platoon of MIKE Force troops to provide security. Word was quick in coming. The team was enroute with extra medics and a convoy of trucks with supplies was headed for Cheo Reo, about 12 klicks aways to the southeast. The village chief was ecstatic. They were getting visited on regular basis by Viet Cong tax collectors. Maybe we could put a stop to that for him as well? Of course we would be happy to do so! This sort of HUMINT (human intelligence) was worth some medicines, supplies & a security force.
Soon the sound of a Huey helicopter could heard approaching from the east. The radio came alve as the pilot called out our call sign. We connected, threw out a yellow smoke grenade as ordered and awaited his touch down in the cleared area near the rice paddies.

As the skids barely made contact with the ground my CO, LTC Madison & an Aussy warrant officer, Mr. MacDade, leaped out! They approached us where we made the introductions all around. Overhead a pair of Huey-Cobra gun ships were sweeping the area as air cover.

My CO decided that a company of MIKE Force was needed so the call went out & they were airborne within the hour and enroute to our location. Before nightfall we had in place a company of MIKE Force, a CA team treating the sick, lame & injured. We had recruited some 15-20 young men for MIKE Force training and had been asked by the chief for assistance make his village a fortified village with a school, a clinic and a new well. This request would be sent to the Corps Commander for approval but we all knew that it would be quick in coming.

Yes, it was war! Yes, it was a time of unrest and horror! It was also a war on sickness, on stone-age poverty, as well as on the Viet Cong & NVA. Not everything we did was about killing. In fact the vast majority of what Special Forces did in Viet Nam was about teaching. We taught things such as community hygiene, agriculture, basic education, water management, animal husbandry, etc. When the USA pulled out of Viet Nam the Montagnards were left holding the bag! They were always hated by the Vietnamese and were always persecuted by them. Many Montagnards left Viet Nam and trekked west to Thailand where they were interned in refugee camps. Many made it here to the USA. They live in such diverse areas as North Carolina, Idaho, Montana, California, Oregon & Washington State.

When I went back to Viet Nam in 1997, I was not allowed by the government to go to areas where I might have found some of my old comrades from the MIKE Force. Reports of fighting, guerrilla warfare, etc. continue to come out of the Central Highlands abut the Montagnards who keep fighting the Vietnamese oppressors. I will always feel a sense of guilt over the fact that we left them to that fate.

Copyright © 2009 Donald R Houston, PhD. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without the author's consent.