Universe conspires: All roads lead to Georgia

Today, I am a Georgia boy once again. And if we try hard enough, all of us could be Georgians!

Over the next several weeks I hope Americans join with me in offering positive intentions to convince the universe to focus and raise up the wonderful State of Georgia. 

We need all who can possibly vote in Georgia to march to the poles or to drop their mail-in ballots in favor of the two candidates that would create enough Democrats in the Senate to support President-elect Joe Biden help America heal and grow stronger. 

I am confident that the former vice president will follow the dictates of my old alma mater — the Officers Candidate School at Fort Benning, GA — and “accomplish the mission” while “looking out for the welfare” of the men and women he has been elected to lead. 

Yes, we should all focus on Georgia and create such a wonderful and spiritually-lifting vibe to win over the senate in the runoff election January 5, 2021. 


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John F Kennedy helped the world to focus on another state, a war-torn land, that was split during the what historians call the Cold War. He wrote his own speech stating “We are all Berliners.” Years later, the Berlin Wall came down and the world prospered along with a united and allied Germany. 

I believe the same highly focused intention can help America accomplish a similar Herculean task and provide the votes to win this war against the virus, the failing economy and the negativity of the past several years. 

Yes, today we are all Georgians and will be united for the good of all the people. I spent six months in the state training for the battlefield in Vietnam and then three more weeks to learn how to jump out of an airplane to accomplish that mission. I revere the state and feel enlightened by the words of Ray Charles “All roads lead back to you” Georgia! 

And let’s not forget what the book “The Alchemist” shared with us all: “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.

The Universe smiled upon us and granted the Georgia blessing for all America!

Holidays are ‘downers’ for some of us vets

Holidays ain’t what they used to be when you were a kid. Particularly, if you ended up in the military and spent some of your formative years in a war zone like the Vietnam War. 

I could not celebrate Thanksgiving Day this year. It was the 50th anniversary of a comrade of mine named Victor Lee Ellinger, a first lieutenant who was shot and killed by an enemy sniper just three days before the holiday.  (See Cost of War.)

I’ll never forget the anguish I felt and the inability to properly mourn him. The holiday lost all of its meaning years later when I looked back and recalled the events of his death. There were three junior officers in our company. Victor was by far the best and I’ll never forget how the other lieutenant and I ate our Thanksgiving dinner in a rear encampment away from the “bush” just three days after the shooting. It seemed there was little if anything be thankful for that day in 1970.


Christmas was also bad that year. I had been relieved of my command right before the holiday. As an officer, I had ordered mortar rounds to be fired upon a river bank where I was leading my platoon and suspected the enemy was waiting to ambush us. The rounds fell a long way off the target and I kept ordering the sergeant shooting the armament several clicks away to “step down” to get the mortar rounds closer to the VietCong. 

After three or four attempts the last round struck us and five of my platoon members — called “grunts” — were wounded and eventually medevac’d out. An investigation was conducted about the so-called “friendly fire” episode and I was held responsible for the mishap and relieved of my duties. 

I’ll never forget lying on the cot in a tent in a rear base camp and feeling lower then dirt that Christmas morning. Yes, lower than dirt. At least dirt could provide something useful such as transforming food to grow from soil. Me? I felt I wasn’t good enough for anything that holy day of days. 

I was given a new command and made good (See Mutiny). And was given the honor of a 21-gun salatue by my platton upon leaving Vietnam some six months later.


Let’s not forget my birthday which is celebrated today. My 21st birthday was a most forgettable one. I was stationed at Fort Polk, Louisiana, as a training officer in boot camp. We had an IG inspection the next day and I remember inspecting the barracks the night of one’s most celebrated days and feeling so very alone in the army. 

You see, I was a commissioned officer. I could not fraternize with the troops or the drill sergeants. I hardly ever visited the officers club and never hung out with any other lieutenants. I was alone that day and since then I have never wanted to mark my birthday as anything special. 

So, bear with some of the veterans you know during these days of festivities and joyful outpourings. Some of us have been marked by trauma and experience events a little differently and all we need is a single person to try to understand that . . . Thanks for bearing witness this holiday period.