Biggest personnel inspection I ever stood, or ever heard of while I was in the Marines was in about 1977. Right after Force Troops was redesignated Force Service Support Group they held an Inspector General's Inspection. What a sight.
The troops (myself included) stood the inspection in Summer Service "A" with web gear and rifles. Something is slightly warped there. But if the IG wanted to see it, then we would be there. Trying to properly wear an H-harness and cartridge belt over a blouse made for a mess. Add the canteens, magazine pouches and 1st aid kit and you really had something straight out of "Plan 9 From Outer Space".
But we did it. Almost all of us.
There was a rather small Corporal in the Battalion Supply Platoon who only had a couple weeks until his EAS. Normally, short-timers are excused from large scale inspections; but not this time. So Corporal Tenesco (AKA Tough Teddy) was highly outraged by having to buy a bunch of new uniform parts to stand the inspection. He was so mad that he didn't ever take the time to clean up his deuce gear or rifle.
Sure enough his Company was selected to be inspected by the IG himself. The rest of us immediately started sweating. This was the first big inspection for a lot of the young troops and they were nervous. Some of us older troops were nervous as well. Not so much about ourselves, but about our junior troops.
So the IG marched over to start his inspection, preceded by about 3-4 ne'er-do-wells, he started down the first rank. The second man to be inspected was Tough Teddy Tenesco. Not necessarily in this order, but he had a few discrepancies. Unshined shoes, worn out shoes, trow too short, blouse too tight, chevrons not properly located on the sleeves, dirty cover, sloppy tie, filthy deuce gear, dirty/rusty rifle. About the time the recorder was half way through the list of discrepancies, Tough Teddy broke ranks and ran about 5 yards out in front of the platoon. He threw his rifle down on the blacktop, hard enough to make it bounce 5 feet high. Threw down his cover, stripped off his deuce gear and blouse. Looked back at the IG and at his Bn, Co, and Platoon Commanders and screamed to the sky "fuck 'em all". He then ran away.
We never saw or heard of Tough Teddy Tenesco ever again. He was eventually declared a deserter and became a federal fugitive. But in the hearts of those of us who knew him, we all knew he was the only Marine who told the truth that day.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Short Stick
When hanging tobacco in a barn, you position "rails" (movable barn rails) so that the ends of a 5 foot long stick (holding the tobacco) will rest on the rails. Sometimes you would get a tobacco stick that was a little too short. So you would get a little broken piece of stick and place it across the ends of a couple good sticks and hang the short stick there. When one of the workers up in the barn would encounter a short one he would holler out "short stick" and someone like me, hanging out and watching the evolution, would run and fetch a little "short stick" and throw it up to whoever had called for it.
Once upon a time, one of the uneducated Darkies was helping house tobacco and encountered a short stick. He called out and someone on the ground threw him up a short stick. He wasn't smart enough to adjust it properly and called out for another short stick because the one he was trying to hang was short on both ends.I wasn't around for the original joke, but the first time I ever helped to house tobacco I heard it over and over again. I was just a kid, so fetching "short sticks" was my job.
Once upon a time, one of the uneducated Darkies was helping house tobacco and encountered a short stick. He called out and someone on the ground threw him up a short stick. He wasn't smart enough to adjust it properly and called out for another short stick because the one he was trying to hang was short on both ends.I wasn't around for the original joke, but the first time I ever helped to house tobacco I heard it over and over again. I was just a kid, so fetching "short sticks" was my job.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Horseman
In a small town in Argentina, there lived a famous horse. Bragado was his name.
When Argentina was first forming as a nation, there was conflict around the country. The government had an army that brought law and order to the population of Argentina. The army all rode horses, of course that was the mode of travel in those days. The army pretty much took all the horses they wanted from the people who owned them.
When the army was installing a local government in that small town I mentioned, they saw the beautiful horse - Bragado. They told his owner they wanted him for their General to ride. The owner said he was not for sale. So, of course the army demanded the horse. The owner saddled up Bragado and raced away. He was such a superior horse that he easily outdistanced the army. For days they tracked and followed him. Finally cornering the Horseman and Bragado. They demanded he turn over the horse to the army. Instead he turned and rode off a high cliff. Both horse and rider were killed.
The rest of the townspeople took a lesson from the Horseman and ran the army out of town and formed their own government. Most of Argentina followed suit. They renamed the little town after the great horse.
I had the pleasure to stay at a ranch there, El Malibrigo (The Saddle Blanket).
It was just outside the town of Bragado.
When Argentina was first forming as a nation, there was conflict around the country. The government had an army that brought law and order to the population of Argentina. The army all rode horses, of course that was the mode of travel in those days. The army pretty much took all the horses they wanted from the people who owned them.
When the army was installing a local government in that small town I mentioned, they saw the beautiful horse - Bragado. They told his owner they wanted him for their General to ride. The owner said he was not for sale. So, of course the army demanded the horse. The owner saddled up Bragado and raced away. He was such a superior horse that he easily outdistanced the army. For days they tracked and followed him. Finally cornering the Horseman and Bragado. They demanded he turn over the horse to the army. Instead he turned and rode off a high cliff. Both horse and rider were killed.
The rest of the townspeople took a lesson from the Horseman and ran the army out of town and formed their own government. Most of Argentina followed suit. They renamed the little town after the great horse.
I had the pleasure to stay at a ranch there, El Malibrigo (The Saddle Blanket).
It was just outside the town of Bragado.
Good Bye Eyes
Uncle Sam Maglone (my great-great-great uncle) was a heavy drinker. His wife tried everything to get him to slow down, but nothing worked. One day she had the idea to have the family doctor threaten him with health problems.
The next time Sam went to the doctor he complained that he might need glasses because he couldn't see as well as he used to. The doctor jumped on that and told Sam it was the whisky. He told him that if he didn't stop drinking, he would go blind.
Uncle Sam thought it over for a minute and replied, "Well, it's good bye eyes then."
The next time Sam went to the doctor he complained that he might need glasses because he couldn't see as well as he used to. The doctor jumped on that and told Sam it was the whisky. He told him that if he didn't stop drinking, he would go blind.
Uncle Sam thought it over for a minute and replied, "Well, it's good bye eyes then."
The Sled
One Sunday morning, old man Daughtery told his wife to get ready for Mass. He told her he had to ride over to the O'neals (the neighboring farm) for a few minutes.
He didn't return for several hours, when one of the younger O'neals drove him home on a farm sled pulled by a couple horses. He just rolled him off the sled and left him there in the front yard.
Well, soon enough Mrs. Daughtery spied him laying there and rushed out to see if he was OK. He was really drunk. She was very angry and headed to get her buggy. Old man Daughtery asked her where she was going and she replied she was going over to the "dirty O'neals" and give them a piece of her mind.
The old man replied "You'd better stay away from those dirty O'neals, you see the condition I'm in."
He didn't return for several hours, when one of the younger O'neals drove him home on a farm sled pulled by a couple horses. He just rolled him off the sled and left him there in the front yard.
Well, soon enough Mrs. Daughtery spied him laying there and rushed out to see if he was OK. He was really drunk. She was very angry and headed to get her buggy. Old man Daughtery asked her where she was going and she replied she was going over to the "dirty O'neals" and give them a piece of her mind.
The old man replied "You'd better stay away from those dirty O'neals, you see the condition I'm in."
Thursday, July 1, 2010
The Untied Hand
I did not witness the following event, it was before my time. I did know the people involved though. It is a simple story of one seemingly harmless act. But the bottom line of the story is how his action truly defined the man. I guess we could all look at our lives in retrospect and see how some very simple actions really tell the in depth story of our lives.
It was Winter and on the farm that meant time to "strip tobacco". Up home we raised Burley tobacco and cut the whole stalk and hung it in the barns to dry and cure. After a couple months you got the tobacco down and stripped the leaves off the stalks and sorted it out by grades. When you had about 15 or so leaves of the same grade (enough that you could just barely still hold them in your hand) you took the last leaf and wrapped it around the stems of the rest of the leaves and bundled that "hand" together. The hands were put in piles of 100 pounds and that was how it was sold at the tobacco market.
So, anyhow, my Dad was home from the Navy on leave. He wanted to go hunting, but the farm work took priority. After they had worked a couple hours, my Grandad was not getting much productivity out of my Dad. So he relented and told Dad to go on hunting. Dad said he didn't know where to go, since he had just flown in from overseas. So my Grandad turned to an old friend of his named Raymond Prince. Grandad asked him if he could take my Dad someplace to kill some rabbits.
Prince didn't say a word. He set down the loose tobacco leaves he was holding and grabbed his coat and out the door he and Dad went.
Prince (as my Grandad always called him) was a poor man. Worked for other farmers all his life. Most of the meals for his family was produce from his employers' gardens and meat that came from his hunting. He worked because he had to, but he hunted because he loved it.
When the opportunity arose to hunt instead of work, he didn't even bother to tie off that last hand of tobacco. He was gone hunting.
It was Winter and on the farm that meant time to "strip tobacco". Up home we raised Burley tobacco and cut the whole stalk and hung it in the barns to dry and cure. After a couple months you got the tobacco down and stripped the leaves off the stalks and sorted it out by grades. When you had about 15 or so leaves of the same grade (enough that you could just barely still hold them in your hand) you took the last leaf and wrapped it around the stems of the rest of the leaves and bundled that "hand" together. The hands were put in piles of 100 pounds and that was how it was sold at the tobacco market.
So, anyhow, my Dad was home from the Navy on leave. He wanted to go hunting, but the farm work took priority. After they had worked a couple hours, my Grandad was not getting much productivity out of my Dad. So he relented and told Dad to go on hunting. Dad said he didn't know where to go, since he had just flown in from overseas. So my Grandad turned to an old friend of his named Raymond Prince. Grandad asked him if he could take my Dad someplace to kill some rabbits.
Prince didn't say a word. He set down the loose tobacco leaves he was holding and grabbed his coat and out the door he and Dad went.
Prince (as my Grandad always called him) was a poor man. Worked for other farmers all his life. Most of the meals for his family was produce from his employers' gardens and meat that came from his hunting. He worked because he had to, but he hunted because he loved it.
When the opportunity arose to hunt instead of work, he didn't even bother to tie off that last hand of tobacco. He was gone hunting.
The 4th of July
Several years ago, my Great-great Uncle Jimmy owned a farm that bordered the Fleming Pike. The state/county would make deals with the land owners along the roads that were to the benefit of all parties. The government would dump big rock all along the road and pay the land owners to break it up (referred to as 'napping') and keep it spread out along the roads.
One terribly cold day in January, the local Judge was out riding the roads to see if they were being properly maintained by the land owners. He came to Jimmy Brannen's property and an old black fellow was napping rock along the road. Judge Parnell stopped to talk to him for a minute and the old black man asked him if it was the 4th of July. The Judge was surprised by the question and said no, and asked him why he thought that. The old man said there was so much traffic on the road that day he figured it was the 4th of July. The Judge then said to him that he didn't seem to be working very hard and the old man replied that he didn't have to work too hard because he was working for the county that day.
The Judge road on up to Uncle Jimmy's house and relayed the story to him. He asked Jimmy how he could stand to have a man that stupid working for him. Jimmy grinned and told the Judge that if he had about five more just like that, that he would own all of Mason County.
One terribly cold day in January, the local Judge was out riding the roads to see if they were being properly maintained by the land owners. He came to Jimmy Brannen's property and an old black fellow was napping rock along the road. Judge Parnell stopped to talk to him for a minute and the old black man asked him if it was the 4th of July. The Judge was surprised by the question and said no, and asked him why he thought that. The old man said there was so much traffic on the road that day he figured it was the 4th of July. The Judge then said to him that he didn't seem to be working very hard and the old man replied that he didn't have to work too hard because he was working for the county that day.
The Judge road on up to Uncle Jimmy's house and relayed the story to him. He asked Jimmy how he could stand to have a man that stupid working for him. Jimmy grinned and told the Judge that if he had about five more just like that, that he would own all of Mason County.
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