An Editorial by Colonel Richard B. Singer

The Department of Homeland Security (DHS), under the leadership of Janet Napolitano, recently released a report listing potential threats to domestic security. Among the list of ‘right wing extremists’ that includes pro-life advocates and defenders of free speech and the right to self defense, are military veterans returning from overseas duty. The report states that “returning veterans possess combat skills and experience that are attractive to rightwing extremists” and “military veterans facing significant challenges reintegrating into their communities could lead to the potential emergence of terrorist groups….”

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(AWOWOTSCOA)

I posted the following in a game forum in which the game required a high degree of coordination among players to accomplish the goal.  There was no official mechanism for coordinating the various necessary actions and the coordination required quickly became a workload equivalent to operating a small business.  The only method of conducting this coordination was via forum posts.

Although players might only play 10 minutes to an hour each (or more), the operations of the game were 24/7/365.  What resulted was a continuous evolution of self proclaimed leaders declaring an organization, recruiting hundreds of anonymous members, establishing divisions of labor, a hierarchy, and, invariably, descending into chaos within a month or so (mostly due to self generated in-fighting).

Having been part of several of these “clans,” I began to notice the early symptoms of the impending self-destruction group dynamic: when seemingly every member of the clan began demanding recognition, rank or title, there was nigh over a week left before the only forum posts remaining contained words like “jerk” and “stupid”, rendering communication impossible.

Please note that I did NOT include the reference list in my original post!

The following is the letter I posted into the forum pages of one of those groups – “The PC Immortals”. I only hope the letter speaks for itself…

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I received the following note from Garrett’s kindergarten teacher:  (The red is mine.)

I was also notified on two separate occasions that – and I quote: "Garrett had trouble lissening in class today!"

Even so, I won’t name the teacher.

Note: This story may be recorded for quality assurance purposes…

I was in the Crystal City Underground, returning from some mindless errand that I had decided to incorporate into my lunch break.  The "Underground" is a series of connected stores – a mall – that is in the collective basements of all the buildings in Arlington, a block or so from the Pentagon.

I decided to call my dad while I had lunch – an international call.  I carefully dialed the country code and number and was directed to customer service to activate "international calling" on my calling plan.

Now, I know I’m asking a lot, here.

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I have proudly served in the Michigan Army National Guard for about eighteen years now – it has filled my life with challenges, travel, interesting people and countless other rewards (and it pays a little, too). I highly recommend it!

Probably the most rewarding and memorable opportunity I’ve had in this time was at the end of 2006, when I was called to duty (canceling all my New Year’s party plans) to serve on the State Funeral of President Gerald R. Ford.

We had all volunteered far in advance for this duty – numbering in the thousands. State funerals are a HUGE undertaking with the President’s wishes, and then his family’s coming first. Prior to President Ford’s Funeral, all of the recent state funerals had, by chance, occurred in states with large active duty military bases. Since Michigan doesn’t have one, it fell to the National Guard to run the show.

With so many duties to be performed, I found myself

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I had maintained a cease fire with the spiders for a couple of decades.  It was an uneasy truce, of course – it’s difficult for them to maintain the terms of the accord, which were simply: if you don’t let my wife see you, I won’t fire.

Oh, yeah: I should probably note that I prefer to combat bugs with my BB gun.  The advantage in stand-off range easily makes up for the bad PR at home.  Of course, I make every attempt to make these operations as covert as possible.

And so the truce continued.  If I’d spy an advanced scout, I might fire a warning shot with a rolled up newspaper – just as a reminder.  Oddly enough, it wasn’t the domestic spider clan that launched the epic offensive.  Even more oddly, they didn’t attack my wife – they made a full frontal assault on my main body.  And now that I think of it, that term applies literally!

I had spent a day camping

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Ok, so there I was…

There WE were…

No, I’m not Tom Cruise, but I am an Army helicopter pilot.

I was the pilot of the fifth ship of a flight of six.  The other pilot was the aircraft commander.  (There are always 2 pilots in a Huey).  My friend Tom was one of the pilots in the trail ship, which makes this as (or more) memorable for him as it is to me!

The pilots’ duties are split up in the following way: the pilot at the controls flies the aircraft, the other pilot talks on the radios and navigates.  Since each pilot has a nearly identical set of controls, it is easy and routine for the pilots to alternate these duties.

On this particular training mission, we were conducting a practice Air Assault, which means

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I love it when soldiers take the initiative to get something done without being asked… except when it results in uncoordinated, inefficient or wasted effort…

I had a couple young men in my company that I liked to refer to as Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dee.  They are both the type of soldiers you want in your command – hard working, enthusiastic and get the job done even without being told.  (Notice I didn’t include “smart” on the list… but I’d rather have a dull go-getter than a smart lump of laziness any day.)  I openly referred to them by these names – they seemed to accept it as a badge of honor (and clearly all in fun).  I never titled them as one or the other, though – I’d just wait until they were both present and ask their boss to, “find something dirty for the Tweedles to clean!”

One of them finally asked me once – while both were present – which was which.  I replied that 1) I wasn’t sure yet, 2) they probably wouldn’t want to know the answer anyway, and 3) I wasn’t sure I wanted them to know!  (I suspected they were both vying for the coveted title of Tweedle-Dumb.)

The following month I fought my way to drill in a pretty intense blizzard – about six inches of snow had fallen sometime between

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Just between you and me (I don’t want this to go public) – If you had a web-cam set up in my house, you would know that when I’m not eating or sleeping, and I’m not at my computer, I’m probably in front of my Playstation – and between 3 and 8 PM, I’m probably there with my seven-year-old son.

As it happens, we were playing a racing game called Gran Turismo and I had just won a race using my son’s favorite car, called a "Tickford."  Now, I sometimes keep a car for sentimental reasons, such as, I always wanted to have that car in real life, but for the most part – in game – I select my favorites based on how well they will compete in races.  He, on the other hand, selects his favorites based on how cool they are, i.e., "that green one has a cool orange stripe!"

The prize for this particular victory was a car we absolutely needed to compete in a model-specific race; and a promising one, if tuned correctly.  But – you guessed it: he didn’t like the car’s appearance.  After some convincing, he decided to try the car out on a test track…

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I went to the Science Center with my son’s second grade class today as a chaperon. I found out I had chaperon duties when I arrived at the school in the morning in response to the invitation: “would you like to go on the field trip with us?” But I don’t mind wrangling a few brats for a half day – I wrangle 150 soldiers all weekend and it’s about the same job description…

Of all the great story opportunities from this little junket – I only lost one brat, and even then for only a couple of minutes – my favorite was the “ABC game” I played with my boy on the bus ride home. We were the last ones on the bus for the return trip due to the fact that the experts at the center lost my backpack, which they insisted I leave with them after lunch. (See Detroit Science Center Intelligence Story.)

So, now in the front of the bus, alone – or so I thought – with my boy,

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