James Choron December, 2010

The Last of the Boys in Blue

It was November 11th, 1968, and even though it sounds trite and overused, I actually do remember it just as if it were yesterday. I was standing in my grandfather’s living room tapping my foot and being impatient while the old man finished putting on his old uniform, the one that he’d lovingly preserved for over 70 years. I know for a fact that next door, Sherry, my girlfriend and soon to be fianc?e, was doing the same thing while Papa Pete, her grandfather, was doing exactly the same thing, and two houses farther down Bobby Adkinson was doing the same thing while his grandfather did the same thing. I had the biggest car – a 1956 Pontiac Coupe that we all called “Old Matilda” — so when they all called each other and said they were ready, I’d make stops along the way and pick all of them up and take them to the High School football field where everything was getting organized – it was a bit crowded, but it was no bother for any of us. Then, us kids had standing orders to “vanish” until it was time to meet them back at the same place about two hours later. It was Veteran’s Day, they all called it Armistice Day still, and they were going to be in the parade. There were nine of them altogether; nine old men who had marched off together to “hang the Dons” way back in 1898. They were the last of the boys in blue”.

Now if you think I’m exaggerating that, think again. Those nine old men, all of them almost 90 and one or two a bit older, were the last men in our county – and some of the last men in the entire country — who fought under arms for the United States wearing what they called “dirty-shirt blue” of the “Old Army.” Our little town only had a population of around 500 the year the United States went to war with Spain. Out of those 500 souls, 31 of them marched off to follow the drums when Mr. McKinley called. That’s almost 1/5 of the total population.  Five of those never returned. This parade marked the 70th anniversary of that occasion.

The historians don’t pay much attention to the War with Spain now. They make jokes about it at best, or call it American Imperialism at worst, but to us it was far more than “that splendid little war”. It was our grandparent’s war — the one where they marched off to defend the country that they loved. Those 31 men who went to war represented a full 25% of the adult male population of our town, and all but three of those who were in the right age bracket to go. The three who stayed behind were what they called back then “invalids” and would have gone if they could have.

By the fall of 1968, there were only nine of them left, but they were all in fair health and intended to march as a unit, just like they’d done every year since we’d started having parades, the full two miles of the parade route and twice around the town square. They were tough men and always had been. When they started organizing the parade the Veterans of World War One (most of our grandfathers were that too) had offered to let them march as part of their formation because there were so few of them. They refused. They made up their own little formation, three columns of three, dwarfed in between the VWWI, VFW formations, our marching band and the marching bands from three other, smaller towns in our county. They were there, on their own, representing “their army” and “their war”.

I was allegedly a member of the band and so was Sherry, I was on the football team too, so I was exempted from the band for the duration of football season. (Wish I’d been exempted from football. We got beat like a drum that year and only won two games the whole season.) Both of us were exempted from that parade because of Papa and Papa Pete being in the parade and being some of the oldest members. I remember we stood in front of the bank on the town square and watched them pass — nine old men in blue.

We didn’t know about it in advance. They’d kept all of us grandkids and great-grandkids who were in the band from knowing it but when our grandparents came onto the square, and began to approach of the review stand, the band stopped in the middle of the march they were playing, went quiet for just a moment, then with only the drums, flutes and piccolos, began to play “The Girl I Left Behind Me”… the “unofficial” marching song of the “Old Army”.  The other three bands took the cue and joined them.

You should have seen those old men. I swear it was like some kind of magic. All of a sudden they didn’t look so old any more. They were a little straighter, a little taller and for the life of me, the nine of them suddenly looked like a regiment passing in review. That little knot of kids, me and Sherry included, standing there in front of the bank had never been so proud of our grandparents in our lives. For just a fleeting instant, most of us boys saw ourselves in those ranks. We saw ourselves in the faces of the men who had gone before us and given us the name that we bore. I know that the girls all saw our grandmothers, many of them long gone, standing there beside them as they waved handkerchiefs and threw flowers from the bank’s sidewalk planter into the path of the parade. The people in the bank didn’t care. They were standing there with us waving and cheering like everyone else. You just don’t see that kind of thing any more.

That was the last year they marched. We didn’t know it then though. Four of them passed away in the next year and two of them just got too feeble to march that far. The next year, the five survivors rode the parade route in an open car. The next year it was only three of them. Mr. Adkinson died in 1969. Papa Pete died in 1976. Mr. Adams and Mr. Harrison and Mr. Wheeler all passed on in 1979. My Papa left us on in 1982 — he was just a few weeks short of 101 years old and — he was the last man in our county to be one of the “boys in blue.” I’m proud as hell of him still.

I guess you just start thinking about things like this at some times, for some reasons. Usually it’s around Armistice — I mean “Veteran’s Day.” It’s hard to believe that my grandfather actually knew men who had fought in America’s Civil War. He actually met General Wesley Merritt, General “Fighting Joe” Wheeler, General Fitzhugh Lee and General Nelson Miles. In a thirty-odd year military career he became acquainted with several with other prominent figures of that time. He was in the “Insurrection” in the  Philippines the year after the fighting stopped in Cuba, then went to China in 1900 with General Adna Chaffee to relieve the Siege of Peking.  Papa was a professional soldier – a “regular”. The last time he saw “action” was in the First World War. A man could stay in service until he was 62 years old back then no matter how many years he had served. The professional army was small then and most of the officer’s corps knew one another, or at least knew of one another. Every doctor in the tiny, fledgling Army Medical Corps knew each other. It wasn’t a massive anonymous pollygot like it is today.

You know the funny thing about the Philippine Insurrection and the War with Spain is that so many people who had served in the U.S. Civil War wound up back in Uniform from both sides. Aside from Wesley Merritt, there was Adna Chaffee, Nelson Miles, Fitzhugh Lee, Joe Wheeler, hur Machur and I don’t know how many others. Then you’ve got a load of what, on the surface, would appear to be “rich boy” political officers like Teddy Roosevelt and John Astor who turned out to not only be “adequate”, but to be damned fine soldiers who were loved by their troops. Both Roosevelt and Astor paid for most of the equipment for their units out of their own pockets? It’s a fact. They had nothing but the best available at the time on top of that. The “Roughriders” were fully equipped with Krag Jorgensen rifles when they were in extremely short supply in the Regular Army and Astor’s battery had the most modern Hotchkiss guns available. Both units also had the first model Colt and Maxim machineguns instead of the standard 1889 Gatling. I strongly suspect that there would have been a far different scenario for the First World War had TR won the election of 1912 and Astor survived the Titanic. It is very rare that one finds that combination of money, brains and guts, mixed in with a big dose of real and honest patriotism, in two individuals of the same generation in public life. As I said, the professional army was small then. Almost all of he officers knew, or knew of each other. For years Papa got cards and letters form some of them and their families. I’ve still got letters and cards that Papa received from some of them on holidays… names like Leonard Wood and John J. “Black Jack” Pershing. Fifteen years or so after the “Insurrection” he made the acquaintance of a haberdasher turned army captain from Independence Missouri named Harry S. Truman. There are more stories associated with that particular friendship. Lots more.  You see, it’s not “ancient history” to me I was privileged to know men who were there and part of it all. I grew knowing them.

They’re all gone now. All of them have been gone now for almst 30 years. But, they’re not “dead”. There’s a saying in the country that I live in now that “the only true form of immortality that any of us can hope to have is the amount of time that we live on in the hearts and memories of those who love us and remain behind.” Sherry’s gone now. She was taken far too soon. I don’t know about the rest of my childhood friends — the rest of the grandchildren of the “boys in blue”, some of them are gone now too, but I hope they remembered as long as they lived and I hope that they passed the stories of their grandparents along to their children and others. I know that as long as I live they will live also. As long as I am able, I will keep their memory alive in the hearts and minds of my children, my grandchildren and all that I can reach. One day, maybe, we will all be truly “dead”, but as long as I draw breath, “the last of the boys in blue” will live also.

Footnote:

My grandfather’s war changed the face of the world forever. It transformed the United States from an insular and isolated second-rate  nation into a global power thaat was recognized in leading the free world as the champion of democracy. It built up a beacon light that has cast it’s beam for generation into the darkness of tyrany. The children of these brave men fought in World War Two and Korea. Their grandchildre fought in Vietnam. Their great-grandchildren are today in the desert of the MIddle East, ‘soldiering on’ as the generations of  their families did  before them.

But — when the veterans of the Spanish-American War, Philippine War and Boxer Rebellion came home, there were no ‘flags flying’, no GI Bill, no veteran’s benefits and no veteran’s hospitals. There was no Veteran’s Administration, no disabled veteran’s pensions and no other benefits of any kind. ’Their’ war was damned in the press as ‘that splendid little war’ and then doubly damned by history as ‘Jingoism’ and ‘US Imperialism’. Some even  laughed – and  still do — at the fact that more of them died from disease, while still in training, than from bullets. When it was all over, these men went home quiety and without fanfare, and those who could rebuilt their lives and went on with them without notice. In spite of the ‘warm’ welcome andd ‘gratitude’ of their government, ten years after they had all finally returned, all of them who were pofessional military, still young enough to be accepted and still in good health rose up and answered their country’s call again for the First World War — fully believing that it was truly the ‘war to end all wars’. After the blood-soaked, gas-filled trenches of Frannce, they came marching home once again. This time, they were treated somewhat better – but not much. By this time, the ‘boys in blue’ who were now the ’men in kakhi’ didn’t expect anything from anyone. They did what they did — just as they always had – out of love for their country.

‘Armistice Day’, which we now call ‘Veteran’s Day’ originally celebrated the end of ‘that war’ – the ‘Great War’. We celebrate that still today. No one remembers the last of the Boys in Blue who served faithfully and well, some of them long enough to finallly be recognized  for a single time out of a total of four that they risked their lives for the sake of their country. By the time that happened, the vast majority of them were already long dead. There is not a single monument or memorial in the United States on the national level in honor of the sacrifices made by these men To compound insult with injury, very few records were kept on the men and women who served between the end of the American Civil War and end of the First World War. Even as late as the 1970s, when a handful of them were still with us, not even a tombstone was to be had from the US government in gratutide and thanks for their sacrifices unless the families of the deceased could provide their own ‘absolute proof’ of service during a time of war’. It is an interesting side-note to mention that the only existing  monument to these men and women ever erected by any government is in Havana Cuba, where it is still lovingly and carefuly maintained in memory of those who came in 1898 and helped Cuba gain it’s independence from Spain.

© 2006/09 by Dr. J. Lee Choron; all rights reserved unless specified in writing.

Tags: soldier, veteran

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Medicyne_Eagle December, 2008

As I sit here in the land of sand that sees no festivity yet boasts to be the origin of both Pagan and Christian histories of which the latter it is the birth place of Christ. I look around at the faces of the Soldiers here with me sitting in the same predicament so far from home and in a war zone. I plan my Yule festivities as I would whether I was home or here as you can never let depression set in or it would ruin you. But really, how can one be depressed if they look inward and see the same sun, the shortest day of the year as it is anywhere you are in the Northern Hemisphere whether your in Europe, America, or half of the Middle East. I had the foresight to pack lights, oils and incense and other decorations for my Grove here to keep the spirits up and remind us of what season it is, we will keep the lights on and candles lit and drink hot cocoa and spiced cider and maybe some egg nog if the supply trucks made it through. We will discuss past Yule’s and rituals done and maybe even share letters and packages from home. Some will break out the Yule cd’s for music and Christmas cartoons and movies on DVD to watch. Our dining facility will throw on a somewhat elaborate meal to make it feel like home but you still have that nervous feeling as your sitting there eating of a sitting duck for a perilous rocket attack, mortar round or suicide bomber who wants to get you when you least suspect it. If your lucky you won’t be one of those selected for tower guard or some other joyous detail so I will probably make it a point to take candy canes or a thermos of hot cocoa to our soldiers on guard that day. Then the day after Christmas is just another day in Iraq and then is New Years, which is no different. Days drag and the only excitement is mail time, which is the highlight of everyone’s day. It doesn’t really snow in Iraq but maybe a drizzle so it never quite has that atmosphere but we will make do. It really brings to mind the “Night Before Christmas Military version which actually does bring a tear to my eye so I will close with that and let you know it describes how everyone of us feels when we do our duty here whether we agree with this war or not. I wish you all the best this Christmas and May you have a joyous New Year from Desert Moon Grove to you. BB.

Twas the night before Christmas,
he lived all alone,
in a one-bedroom home made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give
and to see just whom in this house did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight did I see.
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land,
with medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
a sober thought came to mind.

For this house was different, it was dark and dreary.
I had found the home of a soldier, once I could see.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.

The face was so gentle, the room in disorder,
not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realized the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.

They enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn’t wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.

The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
“Santa don’t cry, this is the life of my choice,
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my corps.”

The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn’t control it, and continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
and we both shivered from the cold winter’s chill.

I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, whispered with a voice soft and pure,
“Carry on Santa, It’s Christmas day and all is secure.”

One look at my watch and I knew he was right,

“Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Night!”

Tags: christmas, soldier, yule

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Medicyne_Eagle October, 2008

PAGAN NEW YEAR AND DREAMS

I’ve been focusing a lot on change in this column, but indeed there is a reason. October is the Witches New Year and my family honors both New Years. December 31 we write our resolutions, and October 31 we do our ritual cleaning and reflect on the Pagan changes over the year and what we wish to focus on for the New Year. This year, we will be causing change not just reflecting on it as when this comes to print Michelle and I will be touring Arizona in search of a final resting place for Desert Moon Sanctuary somewhere in Northern Arizona. We will be visiting and speaking to some Pagan Communities, and have an information table at Phoenix Pagan Pride October 18. This month will be a pivotal point as we are already 501c3 so the legalities are in place, and once a location and land is set its just a matter of financing which Morrighan has always ensured came to pass.
The purpose of the Sanctuary will be many. To provide Pagan education to those who need to be educated to decrease discrimination based on ignorance. To utilize our network in place to fight the mass discrimination going on today that are happening beyond ignorance. These are major problems going on within the military settings as I have seen firsthand and happened when I ran Desert Moon Grove as well. We will also be a large venue to send Pagan packages out to our deployed Troops using once again our network already in place. I plan on having Full Moon concerts with Pagan musicians, Pagan Pride annually, other festive events including open Sabbat celebrations and Pagan Education specific days biannually.
The Sanctuary will eventually be off the grid utilizing solar and wind for energy sources and will be a working farm and garden for sources of food and potential commerce. We will provide an animal rescue for disaster-related events working with other animal agencies and statewide humane societies, and will provide a food closet for local homeless. will also be abundant in the community lodge including candle and wand making, incense creating, herb and stone properties and satchels, and the list can go on. These are only a few of the goals we have envisioned and dreamt and the dream is becoming a reality as destiny takes Her course.
There will be other Sanctuaries as well to be support structures one such forming is in Kentucky and will be a fallback in the event anything happens that we must leave as in the event of disasters. Others will form as well and this will pull Pagans together as they always should have been as a nation-wide community not just a series of groups fighting amongst each other. Titles aside and degrees aside we are all Pagan none better than the other and none more powerful. I have seen witch wars and power struggles and none are pretty. This is what divides community not brings it together so there will be no power struggles on the Sanctuary as positions and titles will not be recognized nor reflected upon. To me, Pagans are Pagans no matter your Tradition or path you will be recognized as the Pagan you are.  Keep an eye on the column as I will update and things will start moving rapidly as my retirement approaches and we may then move permanently into Arizona and start building. Until then, if you are ever in the Ft Lewis area, stop by our HQ for a cup of coffee and conversation. Blessings.

Tags: new year, Pagan, soldier

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Administrator July, 2006

Provoking Thoughts

Over the past several weeks there has been information and news floating around regarding the fallen soldier who died in the war and his family fighting diligently to get a pentacle on his headstone.

For those who are not aware, the United States military has about 38 approved religious symbols that can be put on the headstones of soldiers. Amazingly there is no religious symbol that represents the Wiccan faith that is approved for the headstones of soldiers.

There are cries all across the American states that are pleading with fellow pagans to step up and be heard on this issue. Men and Women are dying fighting for this county and they cannot be granted the respect to have the symbol representing their personal religious beliefs to be on their graves.

What must we do to have equal religious rights in America??? How many of you are willing to not only stand up but to also to speak loud enough?

I see so many bumper stickers that say “Support our soldiers”. Is this a conditional statement? What constitutes support? Only while they are alive and fighting? Does it still count once their gone?

So what are we left with? A grieving woman is fighting for the rights of her deceased husband who died a noble death. How many of our fellow Wiccan American soldiers have had to have a blank headstone?

These incidents are actually a blessing in disguise if we are open
enough to recognize them as such. If these things didn’t happen, would we really know where we stand and how much discrimination continues in our society? We continue with the illusions that we are free and, depending on where you live, it can feel like we are totally accepted into society. But in many ways this is just the illusion that has been created for us. And the reality really shines thru when these events unfold.

So, this is a call to Americans to recognize this for what it is. This is an opportunity to educate ourselves, to fight for our rights, to represent the faith that means so much to us. This is an opportunity to show ourselves, children and America that we care just as much for our people as other religions do.

How willing are you to get involved?

Read the news and see.

This is one of many articles out there now about this.

***

author bio:

Rev. Crystal

amethystsage@sbcglobal.net

I am a 29-year-old Pagan mother, been married for seven years. I am very close to my family and my parents. I work full-time in the drug and alcohol treatment field. I have been a practicing Pagan for about four years. I consider myself to be an eclectic Wiccan/Pagan. I try not to limit or label myself. My passions in life are my family, enjoying a good book, learning what life has to offer, connecting with my spiritual self, giving back to my community and spending time with good friends.

Tags: Rev Crystal, soldier

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Medicyne_Eagle May, 2006

This Is a hard article to write, specifically because right now I’m dealing with my own pain and hardship back home and may wind up on emergency leave soon enough. I guess writing is a good release and this is a good vent for me. Pain makes you question why we are really here and is the reason we’re here really worth all the pain it brings. I’ve seen war tear apart families time and time again and it got so bad the Army had to focus a whole program on why and then they made a band-aid to fix the problem. At last count we were at 2700 or so Soldiers we’ve lost due to this war due to enemy actions, some to accidents and friendly fire. To me friendly fire would be the worst way to go, and to have your spouse know it was our own weapons that took their spouses life. In one case the Army tried to cover up the cause of death due to embarrassment and investigation showed it was friendly fire and then to top it all off, there were war protesters at her husband’s funeral calling out, “Baby-killer” etc. Now I believe in Freedom of Speech but come on people show some respect, there’s a time and a place and a Soldiers memorial is definitely not the time or place. On that note, another topic near and dear to my heart is the Pagan headstone campaign. We have Pagan Soldiers at war dying, and when it comes to burial, there family is denied the Pentacle on the Soldier’s headstone. As of this writing, the Veterans Administration has not approved the Pentacle for Pagan headstones although they say they are “working on it”. There are currently, and have been 32 approved symbols for several years one of which is Atheist. It’s a symbol of our beliefs for crying out loud so I really don’t see what the issue is but apparently someone thinks there is one. There really are Pagan Soldiers and the mainstream religions aren’t the only faith-groups fighting for our religious freedoms so this is a big pet-peeve of mine. If I die in combat I would expect to have the Pentacle on my headstone, write to your congressman or woman if you would like to get involved with this. To me, our spouses and other family members have things as bad if not worse then we as Soldiers do. You go from a family, to one parent raising the kids, paying the bills etc. You also have the pregnant family members whose spouses miss the birth. You have agencies and businesses who hassle our family members or refuse to help them because the primary account holder or head of house isn’t present but is indeed at war. Often they won’t even accept the Power of Attorney we leave behind to allow our spouses to handle business. Oh, and they don’t even want to hear my spouse is at war, as they just don’t care. I had one Soldier who had an Arab calling and threatening his family while he was here. How the Arab got his families phone number and bank account information is anyone’s guess but the Army moved his family to safety, point being, these are just some of the things our families go through while we are deployed. Me, well currently my wife’s life is endangered by a life-threatening pregnancy and will soon have to go through surgery to save her but we will lose the babies. My day was distressed and time stopped, I talked to her on the phone and we reassured each-other and the war went on. I will push for a chapter out of the Army upon our return in November or hopefully sooner, as the more I look and think about all the traumas and hardships we go through as military families, the more I know its not worth it. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way, we’ll just say this incident was the icing on the cake. You know, the best movie on war I’ve seen has to be “We Were Soldiers” as it’s the only war movie out there that shows the price of war on families. Well worth the watch. In closing, next time you see a military family whose spouse is deployed, please pat them on the back and give them an encouraging word and thank them for service to their country like you do us Soldiers, they’ve earned it. Bright- Blessings.

Tags: soldier, war

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Medicyne_Eagle May, 2006

Hello everyone,

Hope this finds you all and well. We are currently in a battle for a place to meet. The bad news first I always say. We are meeting anyway in my trailer until all the crap gets established, first our tent was taken away so we met in my trailer. Now im being told oh no you cant meet there then everyone can meet etc etc. so i was told if i found a tent we could set it up and meet there but now im getting conflicting stories on that as well, all will get rectified saturday when the proper man gets back, Chaplain Levine please contact me asap as we may need your assistance in this matter. The Pagan Awareness day was shot down by the installation chaplain as well as he sees it potentially causing more harm then good with the attitudes around this base so now we’ve stopped planning for that. Anyway, on to good stuff.

One of our new Soldiers is off to the States for r and r. A woman,s organization wants our Pagan Female Soldiers to get mail, write for them at www.globalgoddess.org and they are interested in supporting the group anyway they can. I have tulip and daffodil bulbs coming compliments of Washington Bulb Company. That is my new endeavor, wherever we wind up meeting i need flower seeds, every kind so we can start our Sanctuary and flower beds etc if anyone has any extra seeds laying around to include perennials. Still keep our Soldier who lost his best friend 2 weeks ago in your thoughts and prayers as he is having a bad time. We haven’t seen him in awhile as he stays in an outsite. Beltane is around the corner so we’re planning our May Pole for that and will be taking plenty of pictures so shoot me an email back if you want pics and we will see what we can do. We do have constant internet in our trailers now so contact will be more common now.

Thank-you for all your support, care packages etc the Soldiers love it and appreciate everything you all do for us. Will be in touch and keep sending us protective energies. Bright Blessings.

Tags: army, soldier

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Medicyne_Eagle May, 2006

Well, here it is April, this article I’ve been keeping somewhat of a diary to give an insight in what it’s like here. Lately, we’re seeing the end of the spring rains; it will rain until the end of April. Our biggest need currently is actually candles of various colors I need red and black specifically of dire need as I’m not the only Morrighan worker in this group. Would also like more altar tools as all our members here are setting up there altars from scratch. Our current projects include prepping for Beltane to include a May Pole and bonfire. We are preparing to have a Pagan Awareness day on this FOB as there are a lot of ignorant people here who equate Pagans as devil worshippers so I plan on nipping that in the bud. We have been working on purchasing leather jackets for our Soldiers with a Desert Moon logo on the back to distinguish us as Pagan Soldiers who have actually been to combat. I plan on having a reunion for all the Desert Moon Soldiers from 2004-2007 to meet in Circle Sanctuary in Ohio in around 2010 for PSG in June. Now to backtrack to March.

It was amazing, we were walking back from chow this morning and there sitting amongst the sand and brown of the desert was a red tulip-looking flower…a desert rose. It was a great sight being stuck in this desolate country, a land war-torn, yet something so beautiful can still survive. You know, I was going to buy some tulip bulbs and bring them back to plant and was reminded of the poisons in the soil. I may wake up a sleeping viper, camel spider or scorpion. There is also a disease called leishmaniasis, carried by sand flies which are lethal depending on the variety and even the simplest form leaves severe scarring. Let’s also not forget Tuberculosis is prominent in Tal Afar and malaria across the whole country. This is not a friendly country even environmentally. Heavy winds and sand combined take out helicopters. As the company medic I’m gearing up the unit for the up and coming summer months which exceed in temperatures of 130 degrees. I will stock sunscreen, hydrocortisone cream, chap-stick and of course IV supplies for heat exhaustion. These are some of the dangers we face as Soldiers in Iraq not counting the toils of war in general which are attacks and such but I don’t count those as you see them on the news daily. It brings morale to each and every Soldier in Desert Moon when we get packages and letters from all our supporters in the civilian sectors. Through all the hazards we face it brings comfort seeing the full moons and sunrises each day and feeling the energies from the Old Ones before us in this continent. The territory we are occupying currently is the Old Babylon/ Sumerian culture. It’s actually great to think of the Priests and Priestesses of Ishtar and Marduk walked the land they now call Iraq, Syria, and Turkey. I have found a new Yezzidi to interview which will happen around end of April early part of May so expect that article around July.

There were five Soldiers for our Ostara Ritual on March 21st it was a short ritual and pictures will be posted when I get a chance to send them out. That is the newest news coming from the desert, much more goes on daily however I’m still limited to what I can say. Weapons caches are found daily, terrorists are killed and captured daily, and the environment is ruthless as it can, but long as the coffee and packages arrive three times a week Desert Moon will stay safe and carry-on. Until next month Happy Beltane, and up-coming Midsummer. Bright Blessings.

Tags: soldier

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Medicyne_Eagle May, 2006

IN MEMORY OF…

This month I would like to dedicate to a fallen warrior. I did not have the honor of knowing this Soldier, he was best friends of one of our Desert Moon Soldiers. As Elder of a military Pagan group I see Soldiers through the good, the bad, and the adrenalin rushing times. As an empath, I feel the pain and suffering, as well as the joy and relief as we meet nightly for coffee and fellowship. I was on leave when the incident happened that took this Soldiers life, but hearing the aftermath is almost as bad as being here in Iraq when it happened. The Soldier wasn’t a Pagan and nor is his family, but he was a Warrior just the same, he was here willingly, to do a job most will never come to do nor have the stamina to do without having Warrior blood. The Soldier left behind two kids and it makes me sad to think of, but those kids will always see dad as a Warrior and know he died doing what he loved and that they will always have freedom because of what he died for. Morrighan has taken him to the Warrior Valhalla where he feels no more pain and suffering and dwells with all fallen Warriors. It makes death easier to bear knowing our close ones are in the Warrior paradise and it is a joy working with a Warrior Goddess who does look out for our well-being. I hate seeing and hearing of our Soldiers dying and getting maimed and really brings to mind the question on everyones mind of why we are here. Why are our Soldiers dying and for what cause? I know I’m here for the well-being of my Pagan Soldiers and doing my best with the healing, mentally and spiritually as well as physically when I’m able. As for the bigger picture of why our military is over here, we are bringing freedom to an oppressed nation and that much I can say. Now how long that freedom will last once we finally leave is anyone’s guess, but once these people taste the freedoms we as Americans so enjoy, hopefully they will fight to keep it. When I think of it in that way, it makes the death of our fellow fallen Warriors more for a noble cause then a waste of a precious life. With that in mind if you would please light a candle of healing for this Soldiers friends and family and remember him as a fallen Warrior. With that I will end in a poem a dear friend of mine wrote.

BLESSINGS

By Havensward

Blessings on the Warriors

Who walk the quiet path;

Who fight when they are needed,

But prefer the heartfelt laughs.

Blessings on the Spirits

Who think of themselves last;

Who put themselves in harms way,

Whose hearts are so vast.

Blessings on the Soldiers

Who die, not quite knowing why;

Who pick up their weapons anyway,

And give a mighty cry.

Blessings on the Others

Who stand by their side.

The Spouse, the Child, the Loved Ones

Steadfast, at home, abide.

Try and walk beside them,

The ones who protect us all.

They walk a difficult path,

They answer a Divine Call.

To each and all I ask

To lower tear filled eyes,

To raise heartfelt voices,

When a Blessed one dies.

Blessed are we who know them,

Blessed are we they love,

Blessed is this world they walk in,

Below and Above.

Tags: fallen, memory, ode, soldier

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Administrator April, 2006

Like most military pagan, I was a little apprehensive about stepping out

of the broom closet for fear of the possible repercussions that might

occur. Though, my experience has shown me, coming out was the best

decision I have made in my short military career.

Everyone in my platoon found out that I was a pagan believer in the fall

of 2005 at a training area in Germany called Hohenfels. I was laying on

my cot reading a book on Wiccan beliefs and practices when someone asked

me if I believed in what I was reading. In a panic, I closed the book

and got off my cot and headed for the entrance to our tent in hopes of a

clean getaway. My efforts were thwarted because they asked me again

just before I hit the door. I just nodded my head and proceeded to exit

the tent.

After that my greatest worry came to be; they teased, taunted, and asked

questions that I knew to be insincere. This kept up all the until the end

of our gunnery in Graffenwoher Germany. I thought

there’d be no end to the suffering. So I asked the Lord and Lady one

night to help them open their minds and see that my religion was just

that, mine. I just wanted them to leave me alone. By the time we

redeployed back to Friedberg, Germany, all the torment ceased. It was

like they had all forgotten what I was; and this lapse of memory was

definitely a welcome thing.

I didn’t hear anymore about it until we all touched ground in Iraq. (And

this time, it was of my own doing.) One day I went to eat chow at the

FOB Sykes chow hall. I noticed on the door a sign posting all the times

for the different religious services. I always stop to look at these in

hopes of seeing something that pertained to me. This day, I found it.

On the very bottom of the sign it read: *Pagan Fellowship: 1930 *(7:30

PM)* At The Old Chapel*! So, after chow I ran to my sergeant and asked

to be able to attend it later on that evening. He immediately told me I

could without hesitation.

I will never forget that first night I went. I even showed up thirty

minutes early just so I wouldn’t miss a thing. Well, I waited about half

an hour before I saw two people walking towards me. As the two

silhouettes moved closer my heart was pounding with excitement, and

before I knew it I heard, "You here for the pagan meeting?" I told them

that I was and they told me to follow them. They explained to me that

they didn’t use the old chapel anymore and that they have a separate

place to meet up every night, and that they used the old chapel as a

benchmark for all the new-comers.

I was led into an old army tent with Christmas lights strewn across the

outside. On the inside was a new pagans playground! They had lots of

books, candles, herbs, and anything else you could think of for

practicing pagans in a war zone. Also the head of the group’s alter

was set up in there; it was a beautiful alter honoring the great goddess

Morrighan.

Well, they offered me a seat, some coffee, and asked me to fill out a

questionnaire that was inside a folder. In this folder was all the

information, history, and regulations of their group, *Desert Moon

Grove*. It wasn’t a coven, in the traditional sense, but a meeting place

for all pagans within FOB Sykes. It was a place to learn, debate, and

ask questions more than a place of worship. Though they did the

occasional ritual together, upon request.

Just being in the tent with so many magickal people made my heart sing.

I felt so full of energy that I probably could run two miles

without losing my breath. This was where I had belonged, around others

so much like myself. I had been by myself in all of my short time as a

pagan that I never really knew what it was like to be surrounded by so

many wonderful people.

When I got back to my CHU (Combat Housing Unit), the sergeant inside had

a lot of questions. At first I was nervous about answering them; he made

fun of me the most through Graf. and Hohenfels. It got easier and easier

though, because he was genuinely interested in learning about my faith.

We talked about magick, myths, and about how the group was run. By the

end of that night, I had a devout catholic interested in learning about

an alternative religion and not be judgmental about it.

I am here now in Tel Afar, Iraq, able to practice my religion freely and

without fear, talk to the other guys when they have their questions, and

just be myself. Since I have told everyone of my faith I have never

felt so free in my life! Now, I understand that there is still prejudice

in the world, and that I shouldn’t go around screaming, "I am pagan hear

me roar!" at the top of my lungs. And, I don’t expect anyone else to do

it either.

***

author bio:

Don Grant

Tags: Don Grant, military, soldier

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Medicyne_Eagle April, 2006

Well. here I sit in Kuwait after a 2-week mental break back home. A “Safe-zone” they call this place, as safe as you can get for being in the Middle-East. No attacks here minus the sporadic drive-by shootings of a military bus from some disgruntled Middle-Easterner. I think of the bigger-picture. Civil war is looming on Iraq’s horizon, attacks have slowed down, or have they. They still find weapons caches, there are still daily IED attacks on our convoys if your on the road.

Fortunately for me, I never leave my base; however, In Desert Moon I do have Soldiers living in isolated areas, some go on daily patrols, some guard terrorist captives on a daily basis, each has a job with a piece to the bigger picture.

Life here is slow, yet highly unpredictable. It can be quiet for hours, days, even weeks on end and that can breed complacency. I have seen quiet and then mass chaos in a mere moment on past deployments so I’am always ready for that change and I try to instill that in my normal Soldiers as well as Desert Moon. We are ready to react in a split-second.

Desert Moon nightly gatherings are for many of us, our unwinding time, coffee or tea, and a time to reflect on the day and discuss the next Sabbat, an item he or she wants for their altar or energy work they need done for a family member back home or comrades going on the road the next day. Desert Moon is here for the morale of our Pagan Soldiers as well as the growth of Spiritual development and mentoring I can give them.

I get stone-walled here and there by higher-ups as per there need or ignorance of Pagan needs but these are fights I have to pick and choose as to importance and the effect of the group. Sometimes you just suck it up and go with plan B. I try my best not to let ignorance lead to anger and for the most part I bode well and calmly approach my installation Chaplain with the bigger problems when rank will just get things done easier. I actually met an ex-Pagan Chaplain when I was on my journey back to the States for my leave. It was a refreshing 5 hour discussion we had, and ended up with my getting his e-mail address in the event I needed another Chaplain for support with our endeavors.

Well it is now almost 6am and I will be on a plane in just a few short hours from now taking me back to Talafar to see what chaos has bred on Desert Moon in my absence; thus far, I know we have lost our tent which we used as our meeting place which our illustrious higher-ups felt they needed more then us, but like I said you choose your battles. My trailer is sufficient enough for us to meet in and the E-5 i left in my stead has already spread the word to Desert Moon where we meet so that is temporarily solved.

There are two wars we fight as Pagan Soldiers, one here in Iraq as Soldiers on the battlefield, and the other fighting ignorant ones to practice our faiths as the other religions practice. No fight is greater then the other. However, political fights are always harder to fight then physical ones, its just a matter of knocking down the red tape and crawling through and deal with the feelings I hurt in the process. Personally, poltical wars are easier for me to fight and more fulfilling as in the Pagan wars are more fulfilling to fight as at least I know what i’m fighting for.

Until next month, Blessed Ostara. Take care of yourselves and stay tuned. Bright Blessings.

Tags: iraq, life, soldier

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