Following is a brief History of the Origins of Operation Peace On You. Click the link to read the Chapter.
Chapter 1: The Enemy Rears Their Ugly Head
Chapter 2: Deep Into Enemy Territory
Chapter 3: The Unit Forms
Chapter 4: Is This War Legal?
Chapter 5: The Birth of "Captain America"
Chapter 6: Italian Angels
Chapter 7: The 4th of July Offensive
Chapter 8: Heavy Metal
Chapter 9: Badges... We Don't Need No Stinking Badges
Chapter 10: The Pot Of Gold
Chapter 11: Just Another Brick In The Wall
Check back for updates, more stories, and first-hand accounts of Operation Peace On You events.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Chapter 10: The Pot Of Gold
[ Read Capter 9: Badges... We Don't Need No Stinking Badges ]
The rain begins to subside. The clouds seem to be following us at approximately the same rate of speed as we are traveling. If we can get just far enough ahead, we may be able to dry off. I look down to the floorboard. The puddle of water has ebbed, it seems that we are out of woods, and on our way in relative comfort. Well, as comfortable as one can be in a troop transport vehicle.
The powerful rumble of the engine suddenly begins to drop off. What's happening? Speed reduces, though my foot stays firmly pressed to the accelerator. Downshift... Silence, except for the noise of the gusting wind and the hum of the massive tires against the pavement. Up shift... no response from the rapidly slowing truck. I think back to the broken fuel gauge in Face Man's deuce. Ahhh, yes... this gauge must be broken, also. The needle still points to full. Cell phone contact is made with Bigg in the stealth vehicle. A rescue effort must be made, leave no man behind.
Our small convoy reunites on the side of the road. I join Bigg in the stealth vehicle to search for diesel. Face Man stays to guard the vehicles. He locks and loads, as we are not yet into friendly territory. The pursuing rain has now caught up to us, of course. The stealth vehicle has incurred damage of its own, the windshield wiper has blown off, visibility is minimal. We locate a gas station. Unfortunately, it is ill equipped to handle the advanced technology of swiping a debit card. We eke out enough fuel to fill the measly 2 gallon jug that we just purchased. Would this be enough to limp the deuce to the filling station?... Remains to be seen.
Contact... we receive a call from J.L., "Is that you on the side of the road? I just passed two deuces." Roger that. We're saved. J.L. Assists with the refueling and escorts us to Camp C4, friendly territory. A brief rest, and we're back on the road.
Bigg now needs fuel for the stealth vehicle, though. He will stop as Face Man and I continue to lumber down the interstate. The F-250 can easily catch up to us soon. We break out of the rain once again. I am following Face Man, and He begins to send hand and arm signals. There is a beautiful rainbow behind us. Clear, vivid, and from his vantage point, leading directly into the bed of my deuce as if it were the pot of gold. This was the sign that we were nearly home, and successful in our mission. OORAH!
[Read chapter 11: Just Another Brick In The Wall]
The rain begins to subside. The clouds seem to be following us at approximately the same rate of speed as we are traveling. If we can get just far enough ahead, we may be able to dry off. I look down to the floorboard. The puddle of water has ebbed, it seems that we are out of woods, and on our way in relative comfort. Well, as comfortable as one can be in a troop transport vehicle.
The powerful rumble of the engine suddenly begins to drop off. What's happening? Speed reduces, though my foot stays firmly pressed to the accelerator. Downshift... Silence, except for the noise of the gusting wind and the hum of the massive tires against the pavement. Up shift... no response from the rapidly slowing truck. I think back to the broken fuel gauge in Face Man's deuce. Ahhh, yes... this gauge must be broken, also. The needle still points to full. Cell phone contact is made with Bigg in the stealth vehicle. A rescue effort must be made, leave no man behind.
Our small convoy reunites on the side of the road. I join Bigg in the stealth vehicle to search for diesel. Face Man stays to guard the vehicles. He locks and loads, as we are not yet into friendly territory. The pursuing rain has now caught up to us, of course. The stealth vehicle has incurred damage of its own, the windshield wiper has blown off, visibility is minimal. We locate a gas station. Unfortunately, it is ill equipped to handle the advanced technology of swiping a debit card. We eke out enough fuel to fill the measly 2 gallon jug that we just purchased. Would this be enough to limp the deuce to the filling station?... Remains to be seen.
Contact... we receive a call from J.L., "Is that you on the side of the road? I just passed two deuces." Roger that. We're saved. J.L. Assists with the refueling and escorts us to Camp C4, friendly territory. A brief rest, and we're back on the road.
Bigg now needs fuel for the stealth vehicle, though. He will stop as Face Man and I continue to lumber down the interstate. The F-250 can easily catch up to us soon. We break out of the rain once again. I am following Face Man, and He begins to send hand and arm signals. There is a beautiful rainbow behind us. Clear, vivid, and from his vantage point, leading directly into the bed of my deuce as if it were the pot of gold. This was the sign that we were nearly home, and successful in our mission. OORAH!
[Read chapter 11: Just Another Brick In The Wall]
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Chapter 9: Badges... We Don't Need No Stinking Badges!
[ Read Chapter 8: Heavy Metal ]
We are approaching CCAFS and establish cell phone contact with our guide. He directs us to the main gate, where we are to receive our credentials to enter the base. We can see the space shuttle on our approach. Hopefully our guide will be able to get us back onto the base again for the next launch, but that's a mission for another day.
We reach the main gate and locate the office where we are to receive our badges that will allow us access to the base. The sign informs us that the office is open from 0600 to 1600 hours, it is approximately 0945, well within the window of opportunity. There are a handful of people milling about in the parking lot. We close in on the door, and realize that it is locked. The people idling nearby have not been able to contact the appropriate personnel for access. We contact our guide and inform him of this SNAFU. The guide tells us that we must proceed to gate 405. Directions to this gate will force us to go north to Titusville and then south again to the destination.
A local, who is delivering argon gas to the base, offers us a shortcut. The directions are vague, and we obviously appear confused. He tells us that he can lead us to gate 405. We follow him through town and reach our destination. The delivery man has saved us valuable time, and we repay his kindness by getting in front of him in the identification line.
I.D. check is complete, the photos are taken, and we are issued our badges. We proceed through the checkpoint and locate the DRMO and the deuces. They appear to be in great shape so we begin the proper maintenance check. The fluids are topped off, the deuces are lubed up and ready to roll. The first truck shows a full tank, but the second one shows very low fuel, we'll have to proceed quickly to the gas station. It begins to rain as we gas up. The gas tank only takes about half of the fuel we expected it to, the gauge must be broken.
Back on the road. We set a course for "Camp C4" in St. Cloud, a friendly outpost about half way back to Camp Cosmic. The rain comes down harder. The deuces' windows are not in proper working order, I can barely see Bigg in the stealth vehicle ahead of me, and behind me, I can tell that Face Man is getting just as wet as I am. At least my windshield wiper works, bummer for you, Face Man!
Chapter 8: Heavy Metal
[Read Chapter 7: The 4th of July Offensive]
I asked for another mission ... and for my sins ... they gave me one. OPOY's sister unit "Heavy Metal" is in short supply of transportation, we have only 4 deuces. 2 more deuces have been requisitioned and are currently located at the Cape Canaveral Air Force Station (CCAFS). The Deuces must be located, prepped for the arduous journey, and brought to "Camp Cosmic" (Heavy Metal HQ). The retrieval crew has been selected. Face Man, Bigg, El Fab, and I have passed the necessary background check for entry onto the base. As with many urgent missions, this one is hastily planned, we expect a difficult excursion. Adapt, overcome, and improvise are basic tenets of our philosophy, so we are confident that we will succeed, but we wonder what problems we will face on this trek.
CCAFS is located on the other coast, an approximately 3 hour trip by over land routes. Unfortunately our air support element, commanded by ***(for opsec reasons will only be identified by code name)*** "J.L.", will be unavailable as they are on another mission. We will have to make the drive in the stealth F-250.
Zero dark thirty... Face man, Bigg and I are ready to embark, we will be joined enroute by El Fab . The breakfast prepared by the indomitable Mrs. America will sustain us for the early morning ride.
We proceed on our planned route which takes us through dangerous territory... downtown Tampa. If we are not careful we could be trapped in the snarl of local commuters, or worse, our vehicle could be destroyed by one of the many citizens of this county who have not yet mastered the art of merging.
Contact with El Fab has been made. The rendezvous must be abandoned, as he is trapped behind the lines and is pinned down by enemy fire from Building inspectors. Our first setback. The situation is assessed and it is determined that we can still pull off the mission with only 3 team members, but this leaves us without backup. We continue the mission.
[Read Chapter 9: Badges... We Don't Need No Stinking Badges.]
I asked for another mission ... and for my sins ... they gave me one. OPOY's sister unit "Heavy Metal" is in short supply of transportation, we have only 4 deuces. 2 more deuces have been requisitioned and are currently located at the Cape Canaveral Air Force Station (CCAFS). The Deuces must be located, prepped for the arduous journey, and brought to "Camp Cosmic" (Heavy Metal HQ). The retrieval crew has been selected. Face Man, Bigg, El Fab, and I have passed the necessary background check for entry onto the base. As with many urgent missions, this one is hastily planned, we expect a difficult excursion. Adapt, overcome, and improvise are basic tenets of our philosophy, so we are confident that we will succeed, but we wonder what problems we will face on this trek.
CCAFS is located on the other coast, an approximately 3 hour trip by over land routes. Unfortunately our air support element, commanded by ***(for opsec reasons will only be identified by code name)*** "J.L.", will be unavailable as they are on another mission. We will have to make the drive in the stealth F-250.
Zero dark thirty... Face man, Bigg and I are ready to embark, we will be joined enroute by El Fab . The breakfast prepared by the indomitable Mrs. America will sustain us for the early morning ride.
We proceed on our planned route which takes us through dangerous territory... downtown Tampa. If we are not careful we could be trapped in the snarl of local commuters, or worse, our vehicle could be destroyed by one of the many citizens of this county who have not yet mastered the art of merging.
Contact with El Fab has been made. The rendezvous must be abandoned, as he is trapped behind the lines and is pinned down by enemy fire from Building inspectors. Our first setback. The situation is assessed and it is determined that we can still pull off the mission with only 3 team members, but this leaves us without backup. We continue the mission.
[Read Chapter 9: Badges... We Don't Need No Stinking Badges.]
Friday, October 10, 2008
Chapter 7: The 4th of July offensive
[Read Chapter 6: Italian Angels]
The birth of our nation. A celebration of freedom. And it has been one year since this operation began. Our unit has stood our ground, and now it is time to take new ground, a full on take over of the hippies' territory.
We get a permit from the city of Dunedin to reserve the picnic shelter at Camp Edgewater. The hippies have made the stretch of territory in front of the picnic shelter their last stand, so we've got to be strong. The usual TOD (time of day) for the fire fight is 1630 hours (4:30 PM). We began operations at 1300 hours (1:00 PM). The smoker and the grill are set up. The ribs are on (pork, of course... in honor of our vegan and Muslim extremist "friends"). The enemy begins to arrive.
I had a camera, but even the best photographer in the world could not capture the priceless look on the faces of our nemeses as they arrived to find a sea of red white and blue, and US, in their spot!
Pictures from this event can be found on our main blog page here.
[Read Chapter 8: Heavy Metal ]
The birth of our nation. A celebration of freedom. And it has been one year since this operation began. Our unit has stood our ground, and now it is time to take new ground, a full on take over of the hippies' territory.
We get a permit from the city of Dunedin to reserve the picnic shelter at Camp Edgewater. The hippies have made the stretch of territory in front of the picnic shelter their last stand, so we've got to be strong. The usual TOD (time of day) for the fire fight is 1630 hours (4:30 PM). We began operations at 1300 hours (1:00 PM). The smoker and the grill are set up. The ribs are on (pork, of course... in honor of our vegan and Muslim extremist "friends"). The enemy begins to arrive.
I had a camera, but even the best photographer in the world could not capture the priceless look on the faces of our nemeses as they arrived to find a sea of red white and blue, and US, in their spot!
Pictures from this event can be found on our main blog page here.
[Read Chapter 8: Heavy Metal ]
Chapter 6: The Italian Angels
[Read Chapter 5: The Birth of "Captain America"]
"And upon them descended a band of angels"
I'm running late. We were getting the "deuces" ready for the trip to Camp Edgewater. "Face Man" and "The Kid" are following me on point. We pull around the corner to find a long line of American flags being proudly displayed on the front line.
"Who are these brave new enlistees?" I ask myself. As I approach the line, I am greeted by Fred, a new friend and ally. Fred has brought his local MC (motorcycle club) "The Italian Angels", for support. The Italian Angels are also members of the "Patriot Guard Riders".
These guys will fit in well with our unit! Fred, Brooklyn, Cutter, T-man, and the rest of their outfit (sorry if I can't remember all of your names!) have been an integral part of our operation. We love you guys!
The battle is heated with the appearance of our new friends. As we all know, hippies and bikers are like oil and water! After meeting our new comrades, I was inspired to watch "Easy Rider" (Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper... a hippie film, but entertaining nonetheless) again. I grew up on the back of a Harley, so I get it.
I was suddenly struck by a particular scene. As you know, Peter Fonda's Character was called Captain America. The two riders arrived in a small town in Texas, and in a moment of enthusiasm, joined in the local parade. They were immediately thrown in jail. Dennis Hopper is quoted in this scene... "You can't arrest us. This is Captain America. Parading without a permit? what is that?" Hmmm... Parading without a permit... where have I heard that before?
AAAH, another successful mission.
[Read Chapter 7: The 4th of July Offensive]
"And upon them descended a band of angels"
I'm running late. We were getting the "deuces" ready for the trip to Camp Edgewater. "Face Man" and "The Kid" are following me on point. We pull around the corner to find a long line of American flags being proudly displayed on the front line.
"Who are these brave new enlistees?" I ask myself. As I approach the line, I am greeted by Fred, a new friend and ally. Fred has brought his local MC (motorcycle club) "The Italian Angels", for support. The Italian Angels are also members of the "Patriot Guard Riders".
These guys will fit in well with our unit! Fred, Brooklyn, Cutter, T-man, and the rest of their outfit (sorry if I can't remember all of your names!) have been an integral part of our operation. We love you guys!
The battle is heated with the appearance of our new friends. As we all know, hippies and bikers are like oil and water! After meeting our new comrades, I was inspired to watch "Easy Rider" (Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper... a hippie film, but entertaining nonetheless) again. I grew up on the back of a Harley, so I get it.
I was suddenly struck by a particular scene. As you know, Peter Fonda's Character was called Captain America. The two riders arrived in a small town in Texas, and in a moment of enthusiasm, joined in the local parade. They were immediately thrown in jail. Dennis Hopper is quoted in this scene... "You can't arrest us. This is Captain America. Parading without a permit? what is that?" Hmmm... Parading without a permit... where have I heard that before?
AAAH, another successful mission.
[Read Chapter 7: The 4th of July Offensive]
Chapter 5: The birth of "Captain America"
[Read Chapter 4: Is This War Legal?]
R&R, Safety Harbor, FL.: Sitting around with friends for a beer. The discussion turns to the operation at Camp Edgewater. The stories are flowing and the interest in them is high. A joke is made that I should wear a Captain America suit. The tactic is well received, and General Judd begins the procurement process.
3 to 5 business days later, the new weapon arrives. A Captain America suit, complete with hippie pounding muscles sewn in! The suit becomes an effective tool in our arsenal, as it draws attention to the fact that we are not with the hippies. (The people here in Florida are easily confused, as we all know.)
The propaganda war has begun. I enlisted the efforts of a brash young Lieutenant, Rob Otowski. Lt. Otowski was well known for his success in the intel community. He has produced some of our greatest propaganda, including the cross hairs logo and the Calvin logo. In addition to these contributions, Lt. Otowski is the technical adviser for this blog.
The Captain America suit has become a symbol of our unit, and a subject of ridicule from the hippies (of which I take great pride in). In fact, the hippies have come up with some nicknames for me, none of which are as offensive as I had hoped for, "Captain Underpants"and "Papa Smurf" are about the best that they have come up with. Pretty lame... but hey, they're just hippies.
The commuters tell a different story. There are the ones who disagree with our message and there are those who support our message. But most of them smile as they drive past, it's not every day that you see something like this! Win their hearts and minds!
[Read Chapter 6: Italian Angels]
R&R, Safety Harbor, FL.: Sitting around with friends for a beer. The discussion turns to the operation at Camp Edgewater. The stories are flowing and the interest in them is high. A joke is made that I should wear a Captain America suit. The tactic is well received, and General Judd begins the procurement process.
3 to 5 business days later, the new weapon arrives. A Captain America suit, complete with hippie pounding muscles sewn in! The suit becomes an effective tool in our arsenal, as it draws attention to the fact that we are not with the hippies. (The people here in Florida are easily confused, as we all know.)
The propaganda war has begun. I enlisted the efforts of a brash young Lieutenant, Rob Otowski. Lt. Otowski was well known for his success in the intel community. He has produced some of our greatest propaganda, including the cross hairs logo and the Calvin logo. In addition to these contributions, Lt. Otowski is the technical adviser for this blog.
The Captain America suit has become a symbol of our unit, and a subject of ridicule from the hippies (of which I take great pride in). In fact, the hippies have come up with some nicknames for me, none of which are as offensive as I had hoped for, "Captain Underpants"and "Papa Smurf" are about the best that they have come up with. Pretty lame... but hey, they're just hippies.
The commuters tell a different story. There are the ones who disagree with our message and there are those who support our message. But most of them smile as they drive past, it's not every day that you see something like this! Win their hearts and minds!
[Read Chapter 6: Italian Angels]
Chapter 4: Is this war legal?
[Read Chapter 3: The Unit Forms]
The Florida sun beats down, melting the parking lot of Camp Edgewater. I am unloading my weapons (pro-troops signs and an American flag) from the vehicle. One of the hippies casually strolls past. "I hope you don't have any warrants for your arrest" he snipes. "Why, did you call the law on me?" ,I return fire. Incoming fire..."Parading without a permit, that's a misdemeanor".
On the front line we are confronted by the hippies with a new attack... They are paying for a protest permit every week. $7.00 is the cost. We are being asked to contribute half of the cost if we are going to continue our incursion. Well, I have the $3.50 in my pocket, but I refuse to collaborate with the enemy.
Mel does some intel research. There is no permit required, as the battle is being waged on a public right of way, and in a public park. This is morale boosting intel for our unit, as the enemy has been paying for this permit every week for approximately 2 years, ouch! For OPSEC (Operational Security) reasons, we keep this information quiet for several weeks until we need some heavy artillery. Aaaahhhh, artillery... One shot, 12 kills. When the news was delivered to the hippies, you could sense the demoralization of their entire unit.
Another successful mission.
[Read Chapter 5: The Birth of "Captain America"]
The Florida sun beats down, melting the parking lot of Camp Edgewater. I am unloading my weapons (pro-troops signs and an American flag) from the vehicle. One of the hippies casually strolls past. "I hope you don't have any warrants for your arrest" he snipes. "Why, did you call the law on me?" ,I return fire. Incoming fire..."Parading without a permit, that's a misdemeanor".
On the front line we are confronted by the hippies with a new attack... They are paying for a protest permit every week. $7.00 is the cost. We are being asked to contribute half of the cost if we are going to continue our incursion. Well, I have the $3.50 in my pocket, but I refuse to collaborate with the enemy.
Mel does some intel research. There is no permit required, as the battle is being waged on a public right of way, and in a public park. This is morale boosting intel for our unit, as the enemy has been paying for this permit every week for approximately 2 years, ouch! For OPSEC (Operational Security) reasons, we keep this information quiet for several weeks until we need some heavy artillery. Aaaahhhh, artillery... One shot, 12 kills. When the news was delivered to the hippies, you could sense the demoralization of their entire unit.
Another successful mission.
[Read Chapter 5: The Birth of "Captain America"]
Chapter 3: The Unit forms
[Read Chapter 2: Deep Into Enemy Territory]
Before I returned to "Camp Edgewater" I would need to do some recruiting. Local talk radio would be my advertising, a call to the afternoon host asking for volunteers. Would this produce results, or am I the only one who is willing to take on this mission?
I returned to "Camp Edgewater" to hold my ground. I was being verbally assaulted by the aging hippies, who were now actually keeping some distance between us, when I heard footsteps approaching from my six. I turned around to see a small squad sized element on a direct approach. They were armed... is this it? Is this how I'm going down?
The new element drew their weapons... signs supporting our troops... nice... some backup had arrived! The enemy went into a state of disarray. The recruiting effort paid off.
The reinforcements are locals who heard the call to arms on the radio, and support the movement. Mel, Mark,Vickie, and MaryAnn assembled into an "on line assault" formation. Our line held for the duration of the battle, and we formed a cohesive unit. Mel's son was in Iraq at the time, and they were proud to enlist with Operation Peace On You. As Mark so eloquently put it... "We must get rid of the liberal supporters of defeat, and run them out of our city".
Our next incursion into "Camp Edgewater" was accentuated by an encounter with Tom. Tom is the most local of locals. He lives on a boat at the Dunedin Marina, About 100 meters behind the CP (Command Post) at Camp Edgewater. Tom has a story of his own to tell about the enemy and his first meeting with our unit. I will let Tom tell you in his own words in the comments link for this post. Tom has been a solid fixture in our unit, ready to debate the most agitating of our enemy resistance... "Danny".
What can we say about Danny? Well, for starters, he is well rehearsed in the art of annoyance. Danny's tired rhetoric is always on display. "American troops are torturers, murderers, and rapists." These sentiments are being espoused at the same time that he his telling us that he is a Vietnam veteran ( chapter 2 of this blog has already covered this ploy) and that his son is now serving in Kuwait. I have to doubt these statements, as he has cited that his son was in the Navy, then later cites that his son is in the Army. Knowing that this is merely propaganda, I lobbed a grenade in his direction... "has your son got a chance to rape anybody, yet?". This shut him up... for a minute. The battle will continue.
[Read Chapter 4: Is This War Legal?]
Before I returned to "Camp Edgewater" I would need to do some recruiting. Local talk radio would be my advertising, a call to the afternoon host asking for volunteers. Would this produce results, or am I the only one who is willing to take on this mission?
I returned to "Camp Edgewater" to hold my ground. I was being verbally assaulted by the aging hippies, who were now actually keeping some distance between us, when I heard footsteps approaching from my six. I turned around to see a small squad sized element on a direct approach. They were armed... is this it? Is this how I'm going down?
The new element drew their weapons... signs supporting our troops... nice... some backup had arrived! The enemy went into a state of disarray. The recruiting effort paid off.
The reinforcements are locals who heard the call to arms on the radio, and support the movement. Mel, Mark,Vickie, and MaryAnn assembled into an "on line assault" formation. Our line held for the duration of the battle, and we formed a cohesive unit. Mel's son was in Iraq at the time, and they were proud to enlist with Operation Peace On You. As Mark so eloquently put it... "We must get rid of the liberal supporters of defeat, and run them out of our city".
Our next incursion into "Camp Edgewater" was accentuated by an encounter with Tom. Tom is the most local of locals. He lives on a boat at the Dunedin Marina, About 100 meters behind the CP (Command Post) at Camp Edgewater. Tom has a story of his own to tell about the enemy and his first meeting with our unit. I will let Tom tell you in his own words in the comments link for this post. Tom has been a solid fixture in our unit, ready to debate the most agitating of our enemy resistance... "Danny".
What can we say about Danny? Well, for starters, he is well rehearsed in the art of annoyance. Danny's tired rhetoric is always on display. "American troops are torturers, murderers, and rapists." These sentiments are being espoused at the same time that he his telling us that he is a Vietnam veteran ( chapter 2 of this blog has already covered this ploy) and that his son is now serving in Kuwait. I have to doubt these statements, as he has cited that his son was in the Navy, then later cites that his son is in the Army. Knowing that this is merely propaganda, I lobbed a grenade in his direction... "has your son got a chance to rape anybody, yet?". This shut him up... for a minute. The battle will continue.
[Read Chapter 4: Is This War Legal?]
Chapter 2: Deep into enemy territory
[Read Chapter 1: The Enemy Rears Their Ugly Heads]
The initial stages of the operation had begun. The probing fire had confirmed the expected outcome. The aging hippies were agitated, and it was time to test my tactic on another front. A quick internet check was all it took to find another cell of peace creeps in the area. This group was a younger crowd and, according to intel, more aggressive than the hippies.
Their cell was formed from members of St Pete for peace, an organization that recruits from the anti-American dregs of society. They are closely involved with "Code Pink", various pro Palestinian groups, assorted socialist promoters, "9/11 truthers", and your run of the mill anarchist wannabes. A rag tag outfit, but one that had a stronghold at a local outdoor shopping center... Bay Walk.
Baywalk is a nice area. Outdoor shopping and dining, a movie theater, and a manicured atrium feel to it. But the peace creeps were regularly offending people and harassing anyone who "dared" to voice an opposing viewpoint, especially military veterans (boy, these guys love to shout "baby killer"). The local police regularly stood by on Saturday nights to quell any violence, but that was their only mission.
I deployed with my signs. Uniform of the day:"chocolate chips". I stood about 10 meters from the peace creeps and just smiled. People dining on the balcony above began to applaud, I was happy to be greeted as a liberator!
Suddenly... sniper fire... a peace creep approached rapidly. His eyes showed aggression and ignorance. I was ready for a fire fight. The peace creep opened fire with the standard ammo... "if you believe in the war so much, why don't you join?". Return fire... "if you want to end the war, why don't you run for office, or do you think that you can change the world by yelling at pedestrians? By the way, I'm a Desert storm vet, USMC". More "baby killer" tripe from the peace creep. By now, I was surrounded. Good, that simplifies the problem. I was again told that I was outnumbered. I replied "20 hippies against one Marine? That's not fair... you need more hippies."
The enemy went for their big guns. I was informed that one of the peace creeps was a former Marine who had been ordered to kill women and children. I asked to meet him, but he would not join the fire fight. I shifted battlefield position to query the "Marine" in their horde. He could not give me the name of his unit, what platoon he graduated from bootcamp with, or even an MOS (military occupational specialty... I was an 0351, anti-tank assault). This is a standard ploy of the peace creeps, lie about being a veteran, lie about being a disgruntled republican, lie lie lie.
As the fire fight waned, I redeployed. The Police officer assigned to "hippie duty" gave me a great big smile and a thumbs up, another successful mission.
[Read Chapter 3: The Unit Forms]
The initial stages of the operation had begun. The probing fire had confirmed the expected outcome. The aging hippies were agitated, and it was time to test my tactic on another front. A quick internet check was all it took to find another cell of peace creeps in the area. This group was a younger crowd and, according to intel, more aggressive than the hippies.
Their cell was formed from members of St Pete for peace, an organization that recruits from the anti-American dregs of society. They are closely involved with "Code Pink", various pro Palestinian groups, assorted socialist promoters, "9/11 truthers", and your run of the mill anarchist wannabes. A rag tag outfit, but one that had a stronghold at a local outdoor shopping center... Bay Walk.
Baywalk is a nice area. Outdoor shopping and dining, a movie theater, and a manicured atrium feel to it. But the peace creeps were regularly offending people and harassing anyone who "dared" to voice an opposing viewpoint, especially military veterans (boy, these guys love to shout "baby killer"). The local police regularly stood by on Saturday nights to quell any violence, but that was their only mission.
I deployed with my signs. Uniform of the day:"chocolate chips". I stood about 10 meters from the peace creeps and just smiled. People dining on the balcony above began to applaud, I was happy to be greeted as a liberator!
Suddenly... sniper fire... a peace creep approached rapidly. His eyes showed aggression and ignorance. I was ready for a fire fight. The peace creep opened fire with the standard ammo... "if you believe in the war so much, why don't you join?". Return fire... "if you want to end the war, why don't you run for office, or do you think that you can change the world by yelling at pedestrians? By the way, I'm a Desert storm vet, USMC". More "baby killer" tripe from the peace creep. By now, I was surrounded. Good, that simplifies the problem. I was again told that I was outnumbered. I replied "20 hippies against one Marine? That's not fair... you need more hippies."
The enemy went for their big guns. I was informed that one of the peace creeps was a former Marine who had been ordered to kill women and children. I asked to meet him, but he would not join the fire fight. I shifted battlefield position to query the "Marine" in their horde. He could not give me the name of his unit, what platoon he graduated from bootcamp with, or even an MOS (military occupational specialty... I was an 0351, anti-tank assault). This is a standard ploy of the peace creeps, lie about being a veteran, lie about being a disgruntled republican, lie lie lie.
As the fire fight waned, I redeployed. The Police officer assigned to "hippie duty" gave me a great big smile and a thumbs up, another successful mission.
[Read Chapter 3: The Unit Forms]
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Chapter 1: The enemy rears their ugly heads
July 18, 2007... It is still dark out, the humidity is oppressive.. I was waiting for the paper boy while my coffee was brewing. I knew that it was best to wait inside, as the summer time in Florida is not conducive to idle outdoor activities, after all, I would be spending the rest of the day humping my butt off on another nasty construction site. I'll probably have to carry all of my tools and materials up 12 flights of stairs in a newly constructed condo building on the beach before I can even begin to start working.
There he is... the paper boy, and the coffee is ready, looks like a good day so far.
The local paper is truly a liberal rag, but I like to do the puzzles in the morning, to get my brain in gear for the day.
The local section of the paper catches my eye... There is a picture of a group of (obviously) aging hippies staging a war protest in my area. According to the article... "One can't help wondering what would happen if more Americans got up off their couches and took up a sign or joined a protest march to object to this unpopular war or other injustices in our society today." (Read the article here.)
GREAT IDEA! Thank you, Dianne Steinle! I'll take up a sign to support our troops AND their mission!!
The day was full of energy for me. I could not wait to exercise my right to free speech (especially since I am a combat veteran who actually fought for these rights that ALL people of our great nation are afforded, including those peace creeps in my county)
I get home from work and immediately begin to assemble the required gear for this mission. Paint, scrap pieces of plywood, and just a hint of sarcastic attitude. A short while later my ammo is locked and loaded... signs read as follows: "I support the troops AND the war", "Redeploy means retreat". These signs should get their attention! ( Yes, these signs got their attention! ) I called my wife at work, and said words that I never expected to hear from my own mouth... "I'll see you later honey, I'm off to the protest!"
I arrived to find the hippies set up with their "peace symbols" and anti-Bush signs already in place. They have splayed themselves along an approximately 75 meter stretch of drying grass on the roadside face of a beautiful City park. However, there was a 15 meter gap in the center of their lineup... the perfect spot for my deployment.
I proudly wore my USMC issued "chocholate chip" utility top that no longer fit my fat ass after Desert Storm (Boy, if my drill insructors could see me now! ). However, I made a stand with a smile on my face. The first person to approach me was a reporter from the "Tampa Bay Sun" (pg 2 here) ,Bill Stone. He was in the middle of asking me what I was doing there when a hippie rapidly approached me with intent in his eyes. I tried to stave off an aggressive confrontation by initiating conversation... "How ya doin', friend?" only to be immediately chastized with the verbiage "You're not my friend, you watch Fox News!" Wow... where did that come from?
Apparently the hippies can smell a Veteran. Within seconds I was surrounded by "peace" activists who immediately began to threaten me.
"You better watch your back", "There's more of us than there are of you!", "What gives you the right to be here?" etc. Blah blah blah... one of you swing on me, please!
Oh well, nobody actually went for the physical confrontation, but the psychological effect of my presence was undeniable, this is duly noted in the article written by Bill Stone of the Tampa Bay Sun. (Read the article here: page 1 page 2)I decided that I would return again, to face off with the hippies, and return dignity and pride to our local community.
[Read Chapter 2: Deep Into Enemy Territory]
There he is... the paper boy, and the coffee is ready, looks like a good day so far.
The local paper is truly a liberal rag, but I like to do the puzzles in the morning, to get my brain in gear for the day.
The local section of the paper catches my eye... There is a picture of a group of (obviously) aging hippies staging a war protest in my area. According to the article... "One can't help wondering what would happen if more Americans got up off their couches and took up a sign or joined a protest march to object to this unpopular war or other injustices in our society today." (Read the article here.)
GREAT IDEA! Thank you, Dianne Steinle! I'll take up a sign to support our troops AND their mission!!
The day was full of energy for me. I could not wait to exercise my right to free speech (especially since I am a combat veteran who actually fought for these rights that ALL people of our great nation are afforded, including those peace creeps in my county)
I get home from work and immediately begin to assemble the required gear for this mission. Paint, scrap pieces of plywood, and just a hint of sarcastic attitude. A short while later my ammo is locked and loaded... signs read as follows: "I support the troops AND the war", "Redeploy means retreat". These signs should get their attention! ( Yes, these signs got their attention! ) I called my wife at work, and said words that I never expected to hear from my own mouth... "I'll see you later honey, I'm off to the protest!"
I arrived to find the hippies set up with their "peace symbols" and anti-Bush signs already in place. They have splayed themselves along an approximately 75 meter stretch of drying grass on the roadside face of a beautiful City park. However, there was a 15 meter gap in the center of their lineup... the perfect spot for my deployment.
I proudly wore my USMC issued "chocholate chip" utility top that no longer fit my fat ass after Desert Storm (Boy, if my drill insructors could see me now! ). However, I made a stand with a smile on my face. The first person to approach me was a reporter from the "Tampa Bay Sun" (pg 2 here) ,Bill Stone. He was in the middle of asking me what I was doing there when a hippie rapidly approached me with intent in his eyes. I tried to stave off an aggressive confrontation by initiating conversation... "How ya doin', friend?" only to be immediately chastized with the verbiage "You're not my friend, you watch Fox News!" Wow... where did that come from?
Apparently the hippies can smell a Veteran. Within seconds I was surrounded by "peace" activists who immediately began to threaten me.
"You better watch your back", "There's more of us than there are of you!", "What gives you the right to be here?" etc. Blah blah blah... one of you swing on me, please!
Oh well, nobody actually went for the physical confrontation, but the psychological effect of my presence was undeniable, this is duly noted in the article written by Bill Stone of the Tampa Bay Sun. (Read the article here: page 1 page 2)I decided that I would return again, to face off with the hippies, and return dignity and pride to our local community.
[Read Chapter 2: Deep Into Enemy Territory]
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