Being Home is the best & working with The Home Base Program

Been home for a month now and things are just starting to feel normal again. By normal I mean that I am starting to feel like I will be home and stay home. The first few weeks felt like a R&R as most time at home while deployed is 2-3 weeks.


Now, with Summer in place, I am looking forward to the things I missed over the last few years - 4th of July, Barnstable County Fair, Cape League Baseball and some time at the beach.
I am also working with the Home Base Program out of Massachusetts General Hospital. The VA has proven to be pretty useless as they don't listen and don't want to see things as they are. The VA seems dedicated to downplaying the issues that you have as if they validate them, it will be a "cost" to them. When it comes to the VA, it comes down to $$, not what is best for the Veteran.

The Home Base Program has been put together by MGH and the Red Sox foundation. If you are a Veteran of Iraq and/or Afghanistan and need help, they will assist you free of charge. The staff is attentive and focuses on what is needed, not what it costs.

I highly recommend you look into this great program. Click on the link below.

http://www.homebaseprogram.org/general-information.aspx

It's a small world after all

On my recent return home for vacation, the United flight that I was scheduled on out of Dubai to the USA was cancelled due to mechanical issues.  That meant 320 passengers had to scramble for new flights.

While I was in line waiting to get rebooked, I spoke to the Gentleman behind me who was traveling home due to the death of his Father.  I was unhappy due to the delay of the cancelled flight, but this guy's pain was worse.  When you are far from home and learn about the loss of a parent, every second's delay is an eternity.

We both got new tickets and went our separate ways.  I got home and hoped that he had done the same in time for the funeral.

On the way back, I wound up staying in Dubai for a day as you fly into Dubai one day, and fly back out to AFGHN the next morning.  I am sitting outside the hotel waiting for the hotel bus when who walks out of the hotel but my fellow traveler who I last saw on the way home.

Talk about your small world....we discussed our trips home and all the issues of what occurred during the last two weeks.  It was a strange coincidence that two travelers would be on the exact same schedule twice w/o knowing it, especially traveling this far from the US.

It really is a small world even though it seems a lot farther when you are delayed from traveling as scheduled.

A Chirstmas Favorite - A HOMECOMING WITH HEART - a story of a US Marine making his way home for Christmas in 1951

I have shared this with friends each year at Christmas and it still has a powerful impact as it is a true story(which took place in Fitchburg, MA)

Read on and remember the power of "coming home" for those who have been away at this time of year....especially those, who like your humble scribe, have been away at the holidays, and wish they were able to be HOME....

The enclosed is my Christmas present to you & yours - MERRY CHRISTMAS to all and hopes that all will know the spirit and warmth of Christmas year round.


A HOMECOMING WITH HEART
Author: By Mike Barnicle, Boston Globe Staff
Date: 12/25/1997

Maybe Christmas Eve wasn't actually colder then, but it sure seems so; just like it seems you could always depend on snow dropping out of a lead sky the moment shops began to close and people headed home late on the one afternoon when excitement and anticipation arrived together, natural byproducts of the season. It was a period of far less affluence and cultural evil, a time when community meant more.

So again we spin the dial back to December 24, 1951. Harry Truman was in the White House. The Dow Jones closed at 228. ``Your Lucky Strike Hit Parade'' was the No. 1 show on a thing called television; an appliance few owned on the day Eddie Kelly stepped off the train at half past 11 in the morning.

Kelly was 22 and tired. He was of medium height but appeared smaller, hunched beneath the weight of a seabag he carried as he walked along Main Street, past people who thought they recognized him but were not quite sure because he was 40 pounds lighter and his eyes held dark secrets that had not been present prior to his departure for Korea in the summer of 1950.

By winter of that long-gone year, he was with ``Chesty'' Puller's Marines at Chosin Reservoir, surrounded by thousands of Chinese who charged through snow in a murderous mass, blowing whistles and bugles. It cost 2,651 Marine casualties and took 14 days of combat with men using rifles, entrenching tools, and their hands rather than concede defeat or leave anyone behind as they walked, on foot, 40 miles to Hungnam and safety. As a result, Kelly was hospitalized from January until December; in Japan, then at Philadelphia Naval, where he recuperated until boarding one train for South Station and another for the place everybody wants to be on this night: Home.

Four blocks from the depot, the lunch crowd stood two deep in the Beacon Cafe as Eddie pushed through the door and dropped his seabag by a stool. The old barroom went chapel-quiet. Then, after five seconds of a complete and awed silence, the patrons burst into endless applause.

They bought him drinks and begged for stories, but he had no thirst and there was very little he wanted to repeat or even recall. He stood in the warmth of a familiar setting, waiting to meet his mother, who worked 7 to 3 in a paper mill and did not know her boy had returned for Christmas.

He was the older of two kids. His father died when Eddie was 11. His younger sister, Eileen, was born retarded, and to keep things going his mother had to institutionalize her only daughter in a state hospital that people called ``The Nut House.''

When Eddie was in Korea, his mom sent him a picture of Eileen taken at the hospital. In the snapshot, she was smiling, waving and wearing a white Communion dress. Eddie taped the photograph inside the shell of his helmet. Now, as afternoon grew full of beers and cheers, Eddie Kelly brooded about the little girl who had been left behind. So he asked Roy Staples if he could borrow his car to visit Eileen. Staples insisted on driving and both men left the bar as snow began spitting from the sky.

At the hospital, Eddie waited at the end of a quiet corridor until an attendant came holding Eileen's hand. She recognized her brother instantly, never noticing the trauma and change that had settled into his skin. She threw her arms around his neck and would not let go, and she asked him to take her with him.

Over the objections of the nurse, Eddie carried his sister to the waiting car. It was 5 o'clock, snowing, and dark when they got back to the Beacon Cafe. Eddie removed his coat and wrapped it gently around Eileen. Then, to the cheers of all barside, they headed into the storm, past the shops on Main Street where everyone had been alerted by word of mouth that Eddie was carrying Eileen home for Christmas.

He had walked like this before, through cold and dark and danger, but now he had this light load in his arms: A girl -- young and innocent forever -- who would not let go, and her clench felt warm to his soul. When they got to the bottom of the hill by their apartment, the whole block knew what was happening, and the neighbors stood on the slippery sidewalk as a mother ran to meet her children on a whole street filled with tears of joy simply because it was December 24, 1951, the day Eddie Kelly and his family were finally home on Christmas Eve.

At Christmas time, remember those who are away from home and wish they could be home instead of deployed

This time of year, when you are at your Christmas party and enjoying the company of friends & family. remember those deployed away from home. Also remember those who will never get the chance for another Christmas.....

Say a prayer for all those who go in harm's way. They keep us safe and allow us to enjoy the peace at home that all should experience this time of year....

In 2004, I was on deployment in Fallujah, Iraq......last year, I was in Kandahar, Afghanistan...Those two years were the only time I was deployed at Christmas and it made an impression on me about how much the troops sacrifice as all would want to be home on Christmas Day.

Enjoy your holiday preparations and keep the troops in your thoughts and prayers....

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL WHO ARE SERVING OUR GREAT COUNTRY.....YOU ARE IN OUR THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS.....THIS WEEK, AND ALWAYS.

Thanksgiving Day....Remember those far from home.

On Thanksgiving Day remember those who are away and wish they were home... I spent last year overseas and it was a tough day to be far from home. The troops will be well fed and get a good meal but that is only part of what they need.....they miss being home and with those they love. God Bless our troops and all those who are in harm's way.

" The Waiting is the hardest part..."

Tom Petty told us:

" The waiting is the hardest part

Every day you get one more yard

You take it on faith, you take it to the heart

The waiting is the hardest part..."

Tom was a bright young lad when he penned these words, and he was spot-on.

I'm here in KAF, counting down the last 48 hours I have in country before I depart Afghanistan for the one place I really want to be - HOME.

In reality, 48 hours is a short time but while you are waiting in place here, it can seem like a much longer time than it is.

The interesting part is looking at the News from back home, especially when the 7 day Weather forecast includes days where you will be there to experience that day's weather.

I'll bide the remaining time and do what I can until that moment when I can get on the bus, and take that last ride out to the flightline......GOING HOME.....more sweeter words are not known to this tired desert warrior......I am ready-to-go.


“Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.” - Charles Dickens

Back Home.....

The arrival back home has been enjoyed and it is great to see family and friends....I even took my 1963 Willys Jeep down to the Halifax Car Show on Friday evening.......36 hours after leaving Kandahar, I was at the Car Show with my best friend smoking a few fine Cuban Cigars and humbly accepting the kind remarks of those who admired my Old Jeep......

Time passes quickly and soon, it will be time to reverse the process and head back....But until then, I'll enjoy & savor each moment with the knowledge of this is what we all work hard for....Friends & Family, time at home, and the comfort of all that is cherished.

Summertime in Southeastern Massachusetts is an awesome time of year and all should take in the splendor of the season and all that it offers.....The Middleboro Veterans Memorial Park is one of the sites to see when you come to Middleboro, MA for a visit.....I am proud to be part of the group that created and built this beautiful and solemn memorial to all our Veterans, past & present.

More to follow as time allows.....time is fleeting and it waits for no man....off to play with my old cars and spend an afternoon celebrating " Beberday", a local and not so well known holiday in these parts.....

Chistmas in Kandahar / A Homecoming with Heart

Merry Christmas to all back home from Kandahar ! It is a different feel here in KAF as the usual holiday hustle & bustle is not in effect and while we have Christmas cheer, it is just another work day here, even if it is a few days before Christmas....

I Send you this post as my Christmas Present - A story by Mike Barnicle about what really, really matters at this time of year...This is a true story from Fitchburg, MA. I hope you find the real meaning of the season in your heart and with your family. I am away from mine this year but I know the true meaning of the day - The Birth of the Savior.

Merry Christmas to you and a happy & blessed New Year !


A HOMECOMING WITH HEART
Author: By Mike Barnicle, Globe Staff Date: 12/25/1997

Maybe Christmas Eve wasn't actually colder then, but it sure seems so; just like it seems you could always depend on snow dropping out of a lead sky the moment shops began to close and people headed home late on the one afternoon when excitement and anticipation arrived together, natural byproducts of the season. It was a period of far less affluence and cultural evil, a time when community meant more.

So again we spin the dial back to December 24, 1951. Harry Truman was in the White House. The Dow Jones closed at 228. ``Your Lucky Strike Hit Parade'' was the No. 1 show on a thing called television; an appliance few owned on the day Eddie Kelly stepped off the train at half past 11 in the morning.

Kelly was 22 and tired. He was of medium height but appeared smaller, hunched beneath the weight of a seabag he carried as he walked along Main Street, past people who thought they recognized him but were not quite sure because he was 40 pounds lighter and his eyes held dark secrets that had not been present prior to his departure for Korea in the summer of 1950.

By winter of that long-gone year, he was with ``Chesty'' Puller's Marines at Chosin Reservoir, surrounded by thousands of Chinese who charged through snow in a murderous mass, blowing whistles and bugles. It cost 2,651 Marine casualties and took 14 days of combat with men using rifles, entrenching tools, and their hands rather than concede defeat or leave anyone behind as they walked, on foot, 40 miles to Hungnam and safety. As a result, Kelly was hospitalized from January until December; in Japan, then at Philadelphia Naval, where he recuperated until boarding one train for South Station and another for the place everybody wants to be on this night: Home.

Four blocks from the depot, the lunch crowd stood two deep in the Beacon Cafe as Eddie pushed through the door and dropped his seabag by a stool. The old barroom went chapel-quiet. Then, after five seconds of a complete and awed silence, the patrons burst into endless applause.

They bought him drinks and begged for stories, but he had no thirst and there was very little he wanted to repeat or even recall. He stood in the warmth of a familiar setting, waiting to meet his mother, who worked 7 to 3 in a paper mill and did not know her boy had returned for Christmas.

He was the older of two kids. His father died when Eddie was 11. His younger sister, Eileen, was born retarded, and to keep things going his mother had to institutionalize her only daughter in a state hospital that people called ``The Nut House.''

When Eddie was in Korea, his mom sent him a picture of Eileen taken at the hospital. In the snapshot, she was smiling, waving and wearing a white Communion dress. Eddie taped the photograph inside the shell of his helmet. Now, as afternoon grew full of beers and cheers, Eddie Kelly brooded about the little girl who had been left behind. So he asked Roy Staples if he could borrow his car to visit Eileen. Staples insisted on driving and both men left the bar as snow began spitting from the sky.

At the hospital, Eddie waited at the end of a quiet corridor until an attendant came holding Eileen's hand. She recognized her brother instantly, never noticing the trauma and change that had settled into his skin. She threw her arms around his neck and would not let go, and she asked him to take her with him.

Over the objections of the nurse, Eddie carried his sister to the waiting car. It was 5 o'clock, snowing, and dark when they got back to the Beacon Cafe. Eddie removed his coat and wrapped it gently around Eileen. Then, to the cheers of all barside, they headed into the storm, past the shops on Main Street where everyone had been alerted by word of mouth that Eddie was carrying Eileen home for Christmas.

He had walked like this before, through cold and dark and danger, but now he had this light load in his arms: A girl -- young and innocent forever -- who would not let go, and her clench felt warm to his soul. When they got to the bottom of the hill by their apartment, the whole block knew what was happening, and the neighbors stood on the slippery sidewalk as a mother ran to meet her children on a whole street filled with tears of joy simply because it was December 24, 1951, the day Eddie Kelly and his family were finally home on Christmas Eve.