After first hearing the questions asked in 1976, I have two answers for Mr Springsteen – Yes, love is wild, and yes, love is real. September 29th of this year, Bruce was to play here in DC at Nats Park. Although I’ve previously seen him four times, we couldn’t make this show.
When I was a cadet at West Point, there was a group called the Dialectic Society that brought numerous acts to perform at Eisenhower Hall, which had an intimate setting and great acoustics. Peter Frampton, Seals & Croft, Linda Ronstadt, The Pointer Sisters, KC & the Sunshine Band, Kenny Loggins, America, James Taylor (actually substituting for Carly Simon), The J Geils Band, Kool and the Gang, Mountain, Sha Na Na, Tommy James and the Shondells, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band – they and many others all appeared there.
Bruce Springsteen appeared on May 27th, 1976 at West Point. This was during a mini–East Coast tour, after the Born to Run tour in 1975/76. It’s funny, I remember the show, but don’t remember being blown away by him. The music was good, and of course the “Born to Run” album was great, but hey, it was only one album. No one knew at the time he would still be around almost 50 years later.
Bruce at West Point, Along with the Set List.
Years went by and I bought the albums “Nebraska” and “Born in the USA” when they came out, but that was probably the extent of my Springsteen fix at the time. That changed on July 12th, 1988 in Frankfort, Germany. Cath and I, along with several others, took the train from Worms to Frankfort for the show. He was doing the “Tunnel of Love” tour at the time.
Unlike the show at West Point, this time I was blown away. He played for hours – 3 1/2 I think. The show was amazing and went on forever. New songs, classics and everything in between. The show went so long we actually had to leave during the second encore in order to catch the last train to Worms for the night. I remember hearing “Thunder Road” OUTSIDE the stadium as we were walking to the train station.
After returning to the States, Cath and I saw him two more times. Once in ‘92 at the Cap Center for the Human Touch tour, and another time in downtown DC in the late ‘90s. Both shows, as with Frankfort were long – again over 3 hours. NOBODY did three hour shows.
Springsteen’s music is great of course, but what draws me to him are his lyrics. He’s a wordsmith and knows how to tell a story. “Born to Run”, “The River” (Maybe my favorite Springsteen song), “Born in the USA”, “One Step Up”, “Dancing in the Dark”, “Glory Days”… you really need to listen to the words to see the pictures they paint. While the music may sound cheerful, the words often aren’t. I always chuckle at the people who love “Born in the USA”, but don’t really understand the story the lyrics are telling.
Bruce and John Mellencamp a Couple of Years ago. Note Bruce Sporting a West Point Athletic T-Shirt From his Performance at West Point.*
Years after the original version of “Born to Run”, Bruce did an acoustic interpretation. Slowing it down gave the song a whole new meaning. You can feel the weariness settling in. Maybe at that point he too knew the answer to the questions about love and whether it was wild or real for himself, but didn’t really like the answers.
The tour this year generated controversy with ticket policies and pricing. Springsteen’s comments at the time didn’t really help him. Having said that, it’s not why we are missing this show. We have too much going on these days, AND it’s been a while since I’ve seen any stadium rock concert. Sometime in the future? Maybe. In the meantime, I’ll continue to listen to his music at home and ponder the stories he tells, and the questions he asks.
Addendum:
* My friend, Donna Matturro McALeer, West Point class of 1987, first noticed the photo of Springsteen in the West Point athletic shirt. It was a couple of years ago when he was working with John Mellencamp. She did some research and it turns out there were two Bozeks (brothers) in the class of ‘79. It would have been the end of their Plebe year when Bruce played West Point. She checked in with Greg Bozek in Sept ‘21 when the photo first appeared. He had no idea how Bruce may have ended up with the shirt. Interestingly, Greg and the boss share the same birthday.
Note: In September, Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band postponed all performances scheduled for the remainder of the year. He is being treated for symptoms of peptic ulcer disease and the decision of his medical advisors is that out of caution, he should postpone the remainder of his shows this year.
In 1984, Cath and I were back home in Ottawa for her 10-year high school reunion. I was waiting in line for a drink when a guy approached me. “Hey, aren’t you Max Hall? Didn’t you go to West Point?” I answered, “I am and I did. Why do you ask?” “I’m Joe xxx. We would love to have you come talk with our local militia.” What?
I was a Captain in the Army at the time and had recently returned from four and a half years in Germany with 3ID and VII Corps. Cath and I were stationed in Ohio and returned to Ottawa for the weekend of the reunion.
Me, About the Time of the Encounter – 1984 or ‘85.
Me: “Sure. Where’s the National Guard meeting these days, and what kind of unit is it?”
Joe: “Oh no. We aren’t with the National Guard. We started a private group as a militia. We fire our guns on weekends and do some tactical training. We want to be ready to fight the communists.”
Me:
Joe: “It would be great if you came out to meet with us and give us a talk. I think you could provide some real inspiration!”
Me: “Really?! Where do you all meet?”
He gives me a location south of town in the country.
Me: “Hmmmm. That’s great, but rather than meet there, I think we should meet on LaSalle Street, not far from Bianchi’s Pizza.”
Joe: “Really? Why there?”
Me: “We could go the Army recruiter’s office on LaSalle Street and get you guys signed up. We are always looking for a few good men!”
Joe: “What?!”
Me: “We could meet at the Army recruiter’s office. We are always looking for a few good men to enlist. If you really want to fight the communists, we could use you. I’ll be deploying back to Germany in a year. We could probably even work it out for you to join my unit!”
Joe:
Me: “That’s what I thought. See you later and quit bothering me… Bartender – I’ll have a gin and tonic please.”
Yep. Those militia toy-soldiers who always say they are going to defend our country were around 40 years ago as well. They are still eager to play soldier these days, as long as they don’t have to do anything to, you know, actually defend our country as a soldier.
*** Feel free to share this blog. ***
Addendum:
I don’t recall Joe’s actual name. I just remember that he was in Cathy’s class and I knew him some from high school.
In June of ‘83, I returned to America after serving 4 1/2 years with the Army in Germany. At the time, the Post-Vietnam dislike of soldiers was still alive, a decade after the war. Returning to the States, I had a good experience at the airport that still gives me shivers today.
Captain Hall in Early 1983. Commander, HHC, 34th Signal Battalion.
It’s different now and we as a country, or at least most of us, have learned to separate politics from the people serving in uniform. Back then? Post-Vietnam? We weren’t so great about how we treated our soldiers. I remember someone spitting at me as a cadet while walking in New York City in the mid-‘70s. In 1979, right before we first deployed to Germany, a woman from our church commented to my mom about how terrible it was that they as taxpayers had to pay for Cathy to go to Germany with me, and for us to be able to take some of our belongings with us. AND this was a woman from our church I’d know since I was a child.
Of course most family friends, and our close friends were great with us, but past that? Things were often ambiguous. None of this was as bad as soldiers put up with during Vietnam, but it would be years later before we (as a country) really learned to separate politics and our respect for our soldiers.
In June of ‘83, I turned over my Company Command in Stuttgart, Germany. I had a couple of weeks of additional work I needed to do, so Cathy flew back ahead of me. Finally it was time for me to go home and I flew on a commercial flight wearing civies. We landed at Dulles and I made my way to customs where the line seemed about a mile long. Several flights arrived at the same time, and the line wasn’t moving.
As I stood there, I noticed a young lady walking down the line looking at people in the line. Eventually she arrived in front of me and said “Are you in the Armed Forces?” I’m sure my short haircut and bearing probably gave me away.
I answered “Yes ma’am, the Army.” and she said “Follow me.”
I walked with her for quite awhile and we finally arrived at the front of the customs line. One of the stations opened up and she walked me over to it. The guy behind the counter looked at me and asked for my passport, or my military ID and orders, which I produced for him. He took a quick look, handed my papers back to me and then said, “Thank you for your service. Welcome home to the United States of America.”
I still get a shiver typing those words today. It was the first time someone went out of their way to thank me for what I was doing, and then welcomed me home to boot. It was such a little thing, but plainly had a huge impact on me. I remember it clear as a bell forty years later.
I’ve thought about this story lately. Probably since Panama in ‘89, and certainly since the First Gulf War, we’ve thanked our soldiers and shown respect for them. Unfortunately, an annual poll conducted last November by the Reagan Institute shows respect for the military dropping from 70% in 2017 to 48% in 2022. Much of the drop was attributed to people (from both sides) trying to politicize the military, or what the military was doing.
To be quite frank, most people today have no connection with our armed forces. Their sons and daughters aren’t in our military. If fact, over 70% of American youth today aren’t qualified for the military. They are overweight, or are doing illegal drugs, or are doing legal drugs that make them ineligible for military service. I fear that for many, saying thank-you is a cheap and easy way to feel good, while not really caring about our troops. Maybe I have that wrong, but I’m not so sure.
As time progresses, I’m hoping we as a nation can adult enough to remember to mentally separate politics and the soldiers serving in the military. I hope that we can take a couple of minutes to genuinely thank our troops. Not pro forma, but really thank them. We continue to owe them that much.
Addendum:
in a side note, in the 4 1/2 years we were gone on that tour, I only made it back to the States once. That was to attend my sister Tanya’s wedding. When Roberta married the next year, we couldn’t afford another trip home. It was one of the many family events we would miss over the course of our almost 9 years overseas.
Thanks to my wife Cathy for input to parts of this blog. As an Army wife, she too remembers those days. Like me, she is also concerned about the lack of connectivity between our society and our military today.
The Corps Has… Every West Pointer knows the phrase. When we were Cadets, we laughed at it, and thought it untrue. As Old Grads, many of us use it, and believe it is true. “The Corps Has”, short for “The Corps has gone to hell” is a grad’s way of saying “Things aren’t as tough now, as when I was a cadet.”
The academy was founded in 1802 and is the oldest of the United States’ five service academies. The phrase “The Corps Has” has no doubt been around since 1803. Every class, once they graduate, seems to think those after it have it easier.
A friend from the class of ‘64 reminds me regularly (half in jest, but only half) that as Plebes, they stayed at the Academy their whole first year, and couldn’t go home for Christmas break like we did.
Friends from my Class of ‘78 regularly bemoan the fact that current cadets no longer have meal formations three times a day like we did.
I think you get the drift. And that doesn’t even get into how the whole Plebe System has changed over the years. The Corps has gone to hell. Although for as long as it’s been going to hell, you’d think we’d logged enough miles to get to hell and back by now. ;-).
With the Passage of Time, Some of Our Memories Get a Little Hazy.
Recently, on June 26th, ‘23, the class of 2027 had their first day at West Point, more commonly known as “R” Day (Reception Day). That evening, I posted a picture of a whiskey Old Fashioned I was drinking on our class Facebook page and offered a toast to the class of ‘27. They will graduate 49 years after we did. I don’t care how much easier it may have become; one thing I know for sure is you never forget your first day at West Point. It may become blurry, but you won’t forget it. Ever.
In the comments to the post, one of my classmates, Joe Mooney, brilliantly suggested having a “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned, by using WhistlePig whiskey in it. Our Classmate, Dave Pickerel, was one of the founders and the Master Distiller at WhistlePig Distillery. I started thinking about it. How would I make/what would go into a “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned?
After some additional thought and a few practice rounds, here’s my version, with explanation, of a “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned*.
Simple Ingredients for a Good Drink
Ingredients
1 Sugar cube
2-3 Dashes of Smoked Cherry Bitters
1 Teaspoon warm water
2 ounces WhistlePig PiggyBack Rye Whiskey
Large ice cube or ball of ice
Small piece of Orange peel
And, you will need matches or a lighter
Instructions
1. Add a sugar cube to a rocks glass. These days, most recipes for an Old Fashioned start with a teaspoon of simple syrup. To hell with that. Since we are Old Corps, we are going to start the way the original Old Fashioned started – with a sugar cube.
2. Shake 2 or 3 dashes of the Smoked Cherry Bitters** onto the sugar cube. Why Smoked Cherry instead of the Angostura Bitters called for in the original Old Fashioned? The Smoked Cherry Bitters add just a bit of haze to the drink. Sort of like the haziness of our memories of West Point. (If you can’t find Smoked Cherry bitters, look for another smoked bitters, or use regular Angostura.)
3. Add the Teaspoon of warm water to the glass. Muddle the sugar cube until it dissolves in the bitters and water (TA-DA! No simple syrup needed. 😉 )
4. Add the Rye and stir. Why WhistlePig PiggyBack Rye? First, as I previously mentioned, our deceased Classmate, Dave Pickerel, after a stint as the master distiller at Makers Mark, was one of the founders and the master distiller at WhistlePig. Every bottle of PiggyBack actually has his birth and death years on the neck of the bottle (1956-2018). Also, it’s Rye, not bourbon. Rye is spicier than bourbon, which is generally sweeter. While there were some sweet times at West Point, I’d have to say overall the experience was more on the complex and spicy side. It certainly wasn’t for everyone.
5. Add the ice. Stir until chilled.
6. Use a lighter or a match to singe the orange peel a bit (note, I said singe, not burn). Express the orange peel over the glass and then drop it in. Stir a few more times. Why singe the orange peel? It adds a little smokiness to the peel when you express it. It doesn’t change the drink…much. But somewhere in the background it adds a touch of something you can’t quite place, but think you remember. Not unlike that first summer at Beast Barracks, the memory of which seems clear and hazy at the same time.
7. Raise your glass in remembrance of our fallen classmates and toast the Corps of Cadets.
Ah, Yes. A Very Good “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned.
The Corps Has? No, not really. Every year young men and women report to West Point at the start of summer. I suspect those four years always have been and always will be a challenge. The demands and tests evolve, but are always there. Thank God there are still those today who answer the call.
Addendum:
* You might ask why I selected an Old Fashioned as the starting point/base for the drink. Well, the Old Fashioned is the granddaddy of all cocktails and as with many cocktails, the history is a little muddled. Cocktails were first mentioned around 1805 and generally consisted of some combination of alcohol, bitters, sugar and water. At the time, the alcohol was probably whiskey, gin, brandy or rum. As the 19th century was coming to an end, people started adding other things to their cocktails – fruit, fruit juice, soda water, or tonic as examples. This increased the number of people drinking cocktails, but irritated some of the people who had been drinking them for for a while. They wanted the “old fashioned cocktails”, not the new fangled stuff. Sometime around 1890, the Whiskey Old Fashioned became the first named cocktail. It may or may not have been invented by Colonel James E. Pepper at the The Pendennis Club in Louisville, KY, before he allegedly brought the cocktail to the Waldorf-Astoria hotel bar in New York City. Since West Point is the senior service academy, it seemed right to use the oldest known cocktail as the base for the drink.
** You can probably find smoked or spiced cherry (or smoked orange) bitters online, or at your local liquor/wine store. If you want a treat, try ordering them online from Artemisia, a local farm here in Virginia. In addition to growing vegetables, they make several unique bitters and herbal wines (similar to vermouth, but better). They are currently sold out, but should have them again in about a week. Their link is: https://www.artemisia.farm/ For those who live in Northern Virginia, you can also find them at The Whole Ox, in Marshall, Va.
Thanks to classmate Joe Mooney for coming up with the idea for a “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned with WhistlePig. It was a great idea.
Thanks to classmates Joe Mooney and Bill Moeller for reviewing this blog and suggesting some ideas.
Our West Point Class of ‘78 45th class reunion is coming up this fall. Here’s the story of us selecting two barrels of WhistlePig PiggyBack Whiskey for sale at the reunion (all bottles already sold out) – – – We were on a mission to the WhistlePig Distillery in Vermont. Twelve classmates gathered to taste whiskey from five barrels. We would select two for the West Point Proud and Great, Class of ‘78 45th reunion this coming fall. We didn’t […] Continue here: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2023/05/09/__trashed-2/
There are many Old Fashioned recipes, but the basic one uses: 2 oz Bourbon or rye, a tsp of simple syrup, a couple dashes of Angostura bitters and a slice of orange peel.
As my friend and West Point Classmate Bill Moeller noted, it is perhaps no coincidence that the Birthday of the United States Army, Flag Day and National Bourbon Day are all celebrated each year on the same Date: June 14th. It turns out all three of their stories go back to the late 1700s.
I’ve always thought that understanding our nation’s history was important. When I learned June 14th was shared by the Army, our Flag, and Bourbon, it seemed worth doing some historical digging. Here’s what I learned.
Before there was an American Flag, before there was American Bourbon, the United States Army was around to protect both.
One year prior to declaring our independence from Great Britain, the Continental Congress approved the formation of the Army on 14 June 1775. On that date, they authorized the enlistment of ten companies of riflemen to serve the United Colonies for one year to form the “the American Continental Army.” The next day, Congress issued its first commission by appointing George Washington “General and Commander in chief of the Army of the United Colonies, and of all the forces now raised, or to be raised by them, and of all others who shall voluntarily offer their services, and join the Defense of American liberty, and for repelling every hostile invasion…”
Washington Crossing the Delaware with the Continental Army in December 1776.
While there are some questions about whether Betsy Ross actually sewed the first American flag, there is no doubt about when Congress recognized our first flag. On June 14, 1777, two years after the formation of the Army, Congress passed the Flag Resolution, which stated, “Resolved: that the flag of the United States be made of thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new Constellation.” In 1916, President Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation that officially established June 14 as Flag Day and on August 3, 1949, National Flag Day was established by an Act of Congress.
A New Constellation.
The story of National Bourbon Day is, not surprisingly, a bit murkier. One legend has it that bourbon was first produced by Reverend Elijah Craig on June 14th, 1789. In the late 1780s, Craig was allegedly using old fish barrels to store his spirits. Of course, the fish-flavored wood did not help the taste at all, so Craig started conditioning the barrels by charring the inside. He then stamped the barrels with their county of origin (Bourbon County in what was then Virginia and is now Kentucky) and sent them on a 90-day trip to New Orleans. The charred oak and three-month travel time combined to mellow the whiskey some and folks in New Orleanians requested more of “that whiskey from Bourbon.” Yes, I agree the story, or at least the date of June 14th sounds a bit fishy (pun intended), but who am I to judge? There are enough other competing stories that all trace the origin of “bourbon” to the 1780s and make that time period a credible time of origination. As a side note, in 1964, the United States Congress recognized bourbon as a “distinctive product of the United States of America”.
Bourbon Anyone?
So, there you have it, a bit of distinctly American history. As an Army Vet, I know what I’ll be doing on June 14th. I’ll raise a glass of bourbon in a salute to both our Flag, and all of the Army Veterans who have served our country over the years. I hope you will join me. It seems to me the least we can do.
Cheers to All on June 14th From This Veteran…
Addendum:
– For the record, the United States Army is the senior service. The Continental Navy was established on 13 October 1775, and The Continental Marines on 10 November 1775. The Coast Guard traces it’s beginnings to 4 August 1790. The Air Force was established as an independent service on 18 September 1947, and the Space Force (ughhh) was established on 20 December 2019.
– National Bourbon Day – I searched to find out when the first National Bourbon Day occurred, but could find nothing online.
– Here are a couple of other historical facts about bourbon itself:
The Elijah Craig story is a nice one, but there’s no historical proof of it. There were certainly others who were shipping whiskey in barrels in the 1780s.
The Marker’s Mark distillery, which opened in 1805, is the oldest distillery in the country, and has been declared a National Historic Landmark.
In 1834 Doctor James Crow perfected the sour mash process and made what was probably the first “modern” bourbon. He employed the “Sour Mash Method” on a daily basis to give his whiskey consistency.
In 1840, “Bourbon”, by name, was first advertised in a newspaper.
In 1840 bourbon whiskey officially became known as bourbon. Before then, the product carried the name Bourbon County Whiskey or Old Bourbon County Whiskey.
In 1870 Old Forester became “America’s First Bottled Bourbon” when founder George Brown was the first to put Bourbon in a glass bottle. Prior to that, it was only available in barrels.
We were on a mission to the WhistlePig Distillery in Vermont. Twelve classmates gathered to taste whiskey from five barrels. We would select two for the West Point Proud and Great, Class of ‘78 45th reunion this coming fall. We didn’t want to let any of our classmates down.
I’ve recounted the history of our classmate Dave Pickerell in a blog before*, but will briefly summarize it here, as it is fundamental to this story. The Army, in its infinite wisdom, sent Dave to grad school for a master’s degree in chemical engineering. Later, after teaching at West Point, Dave left the Army and joined Makers Mark Distillery, where he was the master distiller for 14 years. He then struck out on his own and became known as the “Johnny Appleseed” of craft distilleries, and helped many, many distilleries start-up. Eventually, he also became a founder and the master distiller for WhistlePig Whiskey, which makes some of the best rye whiskeys in the world. Dave passed away a few years ago, but his legacy lives on at nearly 100 distilleries across the country.
Dave Pickerell as a Cadet, and Then Later in Life.
A little over a year ago, our West Point Class held a mini-reunion at the Biltmore in North Carolina. On one of the evenings there, we did a whiskey tasting of several whiskeys Dave had an impact on*. The tasting was to honor Dave, and our other departed classmates. Everyone had such a good time at that event, it became the genesis of Operation WhistlePig.
We originally talked about doing a class tasting for our 45th reunion in the Fall of ‘23, but the logistics at West Point became a bit difficult. Bill Moeller then came up with the idea of purchasing a barrel of WhistlePig for the reunion. Classmate Tony Matos, who lives in New Hampshire not far from the WhistlePig Farm Distillery, became point man and started working with Mark Kanya of WhistlePig to understand the dynamics of a barrel purchase. In the meantime initial funding was lined up through classmate Jeff Manley, and a survey of classmates was completed to gauge interest. 206 classmates responded saying they were interested. A barrel of whiskey holds 156 bottles. We were on.
Of course, you don’t just buy a barrel of whiskey. Each barrel is different depending on multiple factors. WhistlePig invited “around ten of us” to a barrel tasting at the farm. We were to select “our barrel” from three different barrels we would taste from. It would then be bottled in a special release, with a small label honoring our class, and our fallen classmates. The team grew from four to six, then eventually to ten of us. In addition to Tony, Bill, Rob Grubbs and I (Rob, Bill and I organized the Biltmore tasting), José Morales, Al Aycock, Gus Hellzen, Jim Steiner, Jack Cronin and Rusty Roberts were added. Our number was set, as was our date, the 3rd of May. Reservations were made at a nearby Airbnb for May 2-4, and then it was just a matter of waiting for the big day.
Tony, who did a great job coordinating the event overall, sent an email to the Class on May 1st announcing Operation WhistlePig was about to commence. He was flooded with responses from classmates with good wishes, others wanting to immediately order a bottle, and some wanting to join us and help select the barrel. Tony graciously explained to folk why it wasn’t possible, although after checking with WhistlePig, three folk who were relatively local at the time were added for the tasting itself – Bob Rush and his wife Erica, and Ron Hall. They joined us for the tasting, but not the entire three days.
Tony’s Announcement to the Class About Operation WhistlePig.
On the second of May, we gathered. Classmates flew in or drove from Texas, Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina and Georgia. Others arrived from Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine. We included a retired Two Star, guys who departed the military not long after our initial five-year obligation, and everything in between. There were handshakes and hugs all around. Not all of us knew each other, but we were all brothers and it didn’t matter. This was going to be good.
That first evening passed in a blur, aided by some liquid lubrication. I and a couple of other guys cooked dinner the first night – Steak Tips, a New England specialty. Preparing the meal in the main house, I have to admit I felt a bit like Clemenza in the Movie “The Godfather” cooking away, with guys standing around talking and drinking. Over dinner, we didn’t solve the world’s problems, but we took a stab at a couple of them. José asked a couple of questions for which there were of course no correct answers but made us all think.
We also discussed whether we should consider buying two barrels of whiskey instead of one, in anticipation of additional sales based on Tony’s email from the 1st. Rusty immediately volunteered to lead the financing of the second barrel, and Tony quickly notified WhistlePig we were now looking at purchasing two barrels.
Dinner the First Night.
As is always the case for me at these gatherings, I’m humbled when I listen to many of the stories told – from time in the Army, in government, or in business. Stories from hotspots around the world over the years, and as I’ve said before, war stories both figuratively and literally. Beer, a couple bottles of WhistlePig, several bottles of wine and a few cigars later, most of us made our way to bed.
The next morning, Jim and crew fixed breakfast – bacon, toast and eggs to order. People were feeling surprisingly good, considering the damage we had, perhaps, done the night before. I’m sure the anticipation of the trip to WhistlePig later that morning had something to do with it. We eventually climbed into two vehicles and arrived at the WhistlePig Farm just before 11AM.
Arriving at WhistlePig.
At the farm, we were joined by Ron, Bob and Bob’s wife Erica and began a tour. Jesse Ray, accompanied by our contact Pam Spaulding, showed us key parts of the farm and distillery. Of course there were some tastings involved at various stops, including Maple Spirit (distilled maple syrup – a bit of a rum flavor), Piggyback (the 6 year old Rye that our barrel selections would also come from) and a wonderful WhistlePig 15 year old rye. I noticed that we, as a group, had become a bit louder. We grabbed a picture of us after trying the Maple Spirit – I think you can see we were off to a good start.
Smiling Classmates After the Distilled Maple Syrup Tasting
We returned to the tasting room and a wonderful lunch. The WhistlePig crew told us some great stories about Dave, some of his work, and some of his sayings. My favorite saying from Dave – “One of the great things about working at a distillery is you get to drink your mistakes.”
After lunch, we were ready to start the business at hand. First though, WhistlePig revealed a nice surprise. Since we were now considering two barrels instead of one, we would taste five samples instead of three. I believe that elicited a “Hooah!!” from the class. Mark Kanya walked us through the barrels, but didn’t reveal their proof numbers, as he didn’t want to prejudice us. Finally, it was time to taste.
Five Barrels to Taste!
What followed was a minor dose of reverence and a major dose of fun. We tasted, and tasted again. Conversations sprang up and died away. Comparisons were made by those sitting next to each other, sometimes with concurrence and sometimes with “What, are you crazy?!” Now remember there were five barrels. All were 6 years old. All came from the same rick-house. All were 100% rye. All were good. And yet, we had no problem finding differences.
Whiskey Tasting – Maybe Serious Business, or Not…
Finally, it was time to make our selections and Rob Grubbs took charge with a chalk board. Each of us came forward and wrote down our top two choices. We anticipated going a couple of rounds, but it turns out it wasn’t even close. Barrels 8516 and 8494 won, hands down.
Barrels 8516 (2) and 8494 (4) Were the Easy Winners at the Tasting!
After the official tasting, they opened the bar and we tried other WhistlePig products at our leisure. Some of us returned to the winning bottles for another taste and confirmation we’d made the right choices. A few went to the museum, while others of us stayed at the bar. There, Mark’s assistant, Amber Star, who also happens to be an opera singer, entertained us with stories and after some prodding, an amazing a cappella version of Ava Maria – it was beautiful and somehow fit the afternoon.
As we gathered together again shortly before departing, Pam read us a tribute to Dave another friend, Savannah Burnett, sent her. It was wonderful of her to share it with us. She also gave us a WhistlePig bottle signed by Dave and filled with a bit of each of the products Dave was associated with over the years. A whiskey, or spirit connoisseur, would call it an “Infinity Bottle” due to the blending of so many different whiskeys – we plan to auction it off at our 45th reunion. It should also be noted that a West Point Coin was presented by José to Mark for his excellent organization of the tasting. As a side note, should he ever be challenged by one of us in the future and he doesn’t have the coin with him, he will be required to buy a round ;-).
Pam Presenting the Class with the Dave Pickerell Signed “Infinity Bottle”.
We finally said our goodbyes to WhistlePig, and to Ron, Bob and Erica and drove back to our Airbnb. Bill cooked a salmon dinner for us and the ten of us again gathered at the table.
We were mellower than the night before but had great conversations. Yes, we told and laughed at old stories again, but we also talked about the present and the future. Over more wine, whiskey and cigars, we discussed our Class and the impact we may have had on the Army and on our country. Eventually we drifted off to our individual rooms and the night ended.
When I woke up the next morning, a couple of guys were already gone. Rob made breakfast for us and then Tony and Jim drove the rest of us to the airport. More hugs and handshakes at the airport and we parted ways. Operation WhistlePig was over … For this year.
I’ve thought about the wonderful times we had at this whiskey tasting, and at other reunions. The camaraderie, the brotherhood, the love for each other. Although we are not yet in our “twilight”, I think General Douglas McArthur summed it up pretty well at the end of his West Point Farewell Address in 1962:
“The shadows are lengthening for me. The twilight is here. My days of old have vanished — tone and tint. They have gone glimmering through the dreams of things that were. Their memory is one of wondrous beauty, watered by tears and coaxed and caressed by the smiles of yesterday. I listen then, but with thirsty ear, for the witching melody of faint bugles blowing reveille, of far drums beating the long roll. In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield. But in the evening of my memory always I come back to West Point. Always there echoes and re-echoes: Duty, Honor, Country…”
For this whiskey tasting get-together, maybe the echoes and re-echoes were: Duty, Honor, Country and WhistlePig as well. For my classmates who may be reading this blog, I’ll add this – Standby! A Warning Order is about to come out on how to purchase a bottle.
Addendum:
The staff at WhistlePig was wonderful. Pam Spaulding, Jesse Ray, Mark Kenya and Amber Star took amazing care of us.
* You can read the blog about Dave and the whiskey tasting our class did about a year ago here: When Rob asked if I would help host the whiskey tasting for the West Point Class of ‘78 mini-reunion at The Biltmore, I immediately said yes. We honored classmate Dave Pickerell, later known as The “Johnny Appleseed” of Craft Whiskey, and all of our departed classmates […] Continue at: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2022/04/19/pickerell-the-biltmore-and-the-whiskey-tasting/
“Arriving at WhistlePig” photo courtesy of Gus Hellzen.
80 years ago on May 6th, 1943, Dad and the other men of 1st Battalion, 60th Regimental Combat Team were given the order to fix bayonets. They were about to attack Djebel Cheniti in Tunisia by direct assault with a bayonet charge. I’ve thought quite a bit about how that attack may have affected Dad and his outlook on life.
A year ago, I was doing research for another blog about dad and the closing days of the North African Campaign in 1943. I was shocked to learn about a battle that dad never mentioned. At the time, his unit had been in continuous combat for two months.
From the history books: “One last ring of rugged hills now remained between the Ninth Infantry Division and Bizerte. The German troops on Djebel Cheniti, the highest point on the 8 mile wide area of the Bizerte Isthmus, halted the advance. To break this bottleneck, General Manton S. Eddy (Commander of the 9th Infantry Division), devised a plan with two parts. The division would mount a flanking maneuver around the hills, while the 1st Battalion of the 60th Regimental Combat Team (dad’s unit – about 500 men) would attack Djebel Cheniti by direct assault with fixed bayonets. They would follow artillery fire that pounded the slopes at 100-yard intervals.”
The 9th Infantry Division Plan of Attack as it Unfolded.
Let’s take a pause in the story for a second. Fix Bayonets is a command that probably goes back as far as the introduction of muskets. What the command literally means is you are attaching your bayonet to the end of your rifle. What it actually means is one of two things – 1) you are preparing to charge the enemy in close-quarters or 2) getting ready to defend yourself from an imminent enemy assault. Either way, it is close-in fighting. With a rifle and a bayonet, you are perhaps three feet away from your enemy. There is no hiding. There is no ducking away. Army Field Manual 23-25 captures it succinctly: “The will to meet and destroy the enemy in hand-to-hand combat is the spirit of the bayonet. It springs from the fighter’s confidence, courage, and grim determination.” In my own bayonet training nearly 50 years ago at West Point, they were even more to the point: “What is the spirit of the bayonet?” “To Kill!”
At that distance, it is kill or be killed. There is no middle ground.
… … …
May 6th 1943 was a slippery, muddy and rainy day. The order was given to fix bayonets around 1PM and behind rolling artillery, the battalion attacked. They moved forward quickly and only 100 yards behind the falling artillery barrage. On the map, it looks like the total distance they needed to cover was a little over a mile. After three hours they took Hill 168. Moving on to Hill 207 they met stronger resistance. An artillery concentration disorganized the enemy and the battalion attacked again before the German troops could recover. By nightfall, they had taken the summit of Hill 207, although there were still Germans on the southeastern slopes. In a war that lasted years, there were only brief mentions of the battle in the history books, but all of them mentioned the fixed bayonets.
Only a Brief Mention in the History Books
The next morning, May 7th, German machine gun crews began taking off for Bizerte as the division advanced. The 60th moved to cut off the Bizerte road and On May 8th, Bizerte fell. The war in North Africa was over and their immediate mission accomplished.
Men of the 60th Outside Bizerte on May 7th, 1943.
In the words of the 9th Infantry Division Record, “Djebel Cheniti was a brilliant demonstration of Infantry “leaning up against” artillery preparation. One of the strongest positions in the final Axis defense was assaulted by one battalion of Infantry with fixed bayonets, with artillery blasting a shell-strewn pathway for its advance. Another story in the annals of foot soldiers, who do the dirty tasks of warfare”.
Why am I blogging about this now? The story has haunted me since first learning about it. I’ve thought about it quite a bit over the past year. I never heard dad say anything about Djebel Cheniti. I never heard dad say anything about a bayonet charge. Not one damned word. The more I thought about it, the more I thought about how it must have influenced his life.
I have to figure after you’ve been in a bayonet charge, everything else in your life, maybe for the rest of your life, must seem easier. When you are that close to death, and you survive, what else in your life is really going to be a threat to you? Money issues? Work Issues? Mortgage issues? Sickness? Wouldn’t just about everything pale in comparison?
It would explain a lot about dad. His lust for life. His enjoyment of life. His ability to keep everything in perspective, even when things were going badly. His gentleness and tolerance. His quiet firmness in facing down jerks and bullies. Perhaps he already had all of those traits and would have developed into the same man, but I’m not so sure. I think a bayonet charge at the age of 19 might make everything else in life just a wee bit easier to contemplate and to handle. Maybe every day after May 6th, 1943 was a gift not to be squandered. Dad’s gone now. How I wish we had time for one more conversation.
Dad at the WWII Memorial, Two or Three Years Before he Passed Away.
Dad was in almost continual combat from November of ‘42 to August of ‘43 when he was wounded in Sicily. I’m sure all of that combat, and his wounding affected him and changed him, but the bayonet attack is what has stuck in my mind as a singular event, maybe even more than his wounding. He told bits and pieces of different battles over those months, and mostly they involved funny incidents. He even eventually told me the story of how he was wounded, when he was recovering from the stroke he suffered in the ‘90s. The bayonet attack? Not a single word.
The blog I was working on when I found out about the bayonet charge was a funny story about dad and “Al Capone” – “My Dad, then Twenty year old Sergeant Willie I. Hall, looked at the German soldier and said “Chicago”. The German answered “Chicago?” Dad stared back. “Chicago … Al Capone”. Now the German’s eyes’ widened. Everyone knew who” […] continue at: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2022/05/08/dad-and-al-capone/
Historical parts of this blog were derived from these sources: The 9th Division History; Center of Military History: TO BIZERTE WITH THE II CORPS 23 April – 13 May 1943; The US Army in WWIIby George Howe; and The Development of Combat Effective Divisions in the United States Army During WWII, a thesis by Peter R. Mansoor.
Thanks to my sister, Roberta, and niece, Tami, for their thoughts and inputs. And of course thanks as always to Colleen for her editing support.
“5:25 … 5:26 … 5:27 … Hall – 5:28 … 5:29 … 5:30 …” I did it! I finished the Plebe indoor mile run in under 5:30! As I slowed, my stomach suddenly double clutched and I ran to a nearby trash can, where I promptly threw up.
During my time at West Point, the Academy frequently talked about developing the “whole man” (with the admission of women in 1976, this changed to the “whole person”). We cadets were always being tested and evaluated. It was true about leadership, about academics, and was certainly true about physical fitness. For most of us, somewhere in all that testing was an Achilles Heel. With some it was a particular academic course, for others, some physical education test or class.
Plebe Year at West Point.
As Plebes, there were four required gym classes: Swimming, Wrestling, Boxing, and Gymnastics. For me, I’d been a swimmer all my life and a lifeguard for a few years, so the swimming class was easy, and I earned the equivalent of an A. Wrestling? I made West Point’s intercollegiate wrestling team as a freshman walk on, so I validated wrestling and took handball as an elective instead. Boxing was a challenge at first, but once I learned the basics, AND learned getting punched in the nose wasn’t a showstopper, I did OK. Gymnastics was a different beast.
The pommel horse, the rings, the vault, parallel bars, the trampoline, mats for tumbling … I forget what other torture devices were there, but it was like I was in a cursed land. My two sisters would tell you I wasn’t particularly coordinated as a kid. As a matter of fact, they would say I was a bit of a klutz. It all came home to roost in Gymnastics class. I was passing, but just barely.
At some point during the class, I learned we would do a timed mile run as a part of the course. Running of course has nothing to do with gymnastics, but those things happened at West Point. Just another chance to excel. Now, I had never been a runner, but since it was wrestling season, I was in great shape. Probably the best shape of my brief life up to that point. I started thinking I might be able to earn a good score on the mile run and improve my overall Gymnastics grade.
Hayes Gym* is where we practiced Gymnastics. It was “a large open gym with a vaulted ceiling and hardwood floors.” Above the gym floor, an elevated track rings the room. It takes 11.7 laps to run a mile on that track and that’s where we would complete the mile run.
Hayes Gym in 1910, the Year it was Built, and Again in 2009. Note the Elevated Track.
My personal view at the time (and that of at least a few of my classmates) was that many of the instructors in the Department of Physical Education (DPE) had a bit of a sadistic streak in them. One of our instructors was Army’s gymnastic coach, Ned Crossley and some classmates recall his scoring as particularly brutal. Looking back now, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t true. Having said that, all of the DPE instructors had ways of questioning you, challenging you, or prodding you that often seemed to taunt you a bit as well.
The instructor who spoke with us about the mile run was a little like that. To receive a max score, you needed to run under 5:30. The instructor explained what we needed to do to run a 5:30 mile. At 11.7 laps per mile, “all” you needed was to run each lap at a 28 seconds per lap pace, and then run like hell for the last half lap. Simple. Easy Peasy. Any cadet could do it. And so on. Of course the vast majority of us could run no where near that fast.
At the time, I don’t believe I’d ever run a mile (or any other distance) for time. I’d certainly run laps in High School sports, run in formation at West Point for Company morning runs during Beast, and we ran our asses off in wrestling practice. But none of this was ever done for time. That was about to change.
My pea brain went to work. 28 seconds was two seconds less than 30 seconds for each lap. 28 seconds for the first lap… 56 seconds for two laps … 1:24 for three laps … 1:52 for four laps and so on. I’d do the math in my head on the run. As long as I could keep the pace going, I had a shot.
A couple days later, it was my turn to do the run. As I recall, there were a few of us running it at the same time, although I don’t recall exactly how many. What I do remember was taking off when “go” was called. The first lap – 27 seconds! The next couple of laps I was under the pace. After that, I was a bit erratic, with some over and some under, but the average was OK and at the half mile mark, I was on pace. The final few laps? I’m not sure I was really paying attention any longer. The air was stale. The air was acrid. 3/4 of a mile and still on pace. My lungs were burning. I was sucking in as much oxygen as I could. 11 laps done. My legs were lead. It was down to just over half a lap left. I didn’t see anything other than the track in front of me. I don’t know if the other Plebes were in front of me, or behind me. All I know is I ran as hard as could. I rounded the final curve.
“5:25 … 5:26 … 5:27 … Hall – 5:28 … 5:29 … 5:30 …” I did it! I beat 5:30. I slowed down and suddenly my stomach double clutched and I ran to a nearby trash can, where I promptly threw up.
Recovery took me a while. I may have heaved a second time, and certainly had the dry heaves. Eventually I made my way to the shower, and then to whatever my next class was that day.
A couple weeks later, I passed gymnastics with some room to spare.
In my remaining years at West Point, I never ran that fast again. Not even close. We had PT tests on an annual basis with a two mile run next to the Hudson River. I never approached anything close to that time, even when adjusted for a slower time due to the extra distance. The two miler was always a challenge for me and I was always nervous about failing it. The thought of maxing out my run score never entered my head.
Years later, I took up running on my own for fun and to stay in shape. I became a decent runner, and clocked several personal bests – an 11:44 two mile ( a sub six minute/mile pace); a 39:58 10K (a sub 6:30/mile pace) and a 68 minute and change 10 mile race (a sub 7 min/mile pace). I remember all of those. The one I still marvel at? The 5:28 mile on the indoor track at West Point. I had no business running that fast. How the hell did I ever do it?
Addendum:
* Some info on Hayes Gym from the Academy itself: Hayes Gym was built in 1910. The second level of Hayes is what most cadets and USMA graduates think of as “Hayes Gym”. It is a large open gym with a vaulted ceiling, hardwood floor, and elevated track (11.7 laps to a mile) that rings the room. The Department of Physical Education (DPE), teaches applied gymnastics (now called “Military Movement”) in Hayes, taking advantage of its historical and unusual support structures. The gym has eighteen 21′ vertical ropes and two 60′ horizontal ropes (suspended 12′ from the floor). There are also 10 pull-up bars that are each 5′ wide and are suspended from the ceiling with vertical supports in such a manner that they can be “run across” (with proper technique), as is done during the Indoor Obstacle Course. The gym’s floor space is filled with gymnastic’s apparatus and pads, such as vaults, bars, and rings as well as 1″ and 4″ tumbling mats. Nowadays, the military movement equipment remains in place year-round.
The Indoor Obstacle Course is another “fond” memory of Hayes Gym for most West Point Grads, as it was also known to induce retching at it’s completion. I may do a blog on it in the future, but it’s hard to describe to those who haven’t experienced it. To get a flavor for it, here’s a YouTube video of Cadet Elizabeth Bradley completing it just a couple of years ago and breaking the female record while doing so. For all my macho buddies out there, I would love to see you try to beat her time. Good luck on that unlikely event. GO ARMY! https://youtu.be/Dw5rR1yqyp8 .
Thanks to classmates Gus Hellzen and Jerome Butler for their contributions to this blog.
I distinctly remember returning to West Point after Christmas my Plebe year. It wasn’t fun. As a matter of fact, the last couple of days at home became bittersweet as I started thinking about returning to West Point as a Beanhead* for another five months.
It wasn’t just returning to the Plebe System (Fourth Class System) that affected me. We had first semester finals two weeks after returning. Also, have you ever visited West Point in winter? In the Fall, West Point is one of the most beautiful places in the country. In the winter? Not so much, unless you have a fondness for the color grey. January to March at West Point is called “Gloom Period”**, with good reason.
If I’m honest with myself, it wasn’t Gloom Period, or finals that brought me down. It was going back as a Plebe for another five months. Before you enter the Academy, you hear all about how tough Plebe year is both mentally and physically. It’s one thing to hear about it. It’s another to experience it for six months, have a break, and then know you are going back for more of the same.
Official Plebe Photo
Coming home to Ottawa that December, Christmas break was great. Being a real person again was even better. Everyone wanted to know how West Point was, and of course I told them the good stuff, while minimizing the actuality of Plebe life. The time at home divided out between family events, dates with Cathy and partying with my friends.
During the day, I spent time at home, or went to see Grandma, various aunts and uncles, and church or family friends. I remember racing around town fitting in as many visits as I could. It was good to catch up with so many people, but also a bit exhausting.
Cath and I went on dates most evenings and tried to make up for lost time. The last we’d seen each other was Labor Day Weekend, when she visited West Point with my folks. In the interim, we’d written so many letters back and forth, I lost count of the actual number. While home, there was even a formal holiday dance at Ottawa High (Cathy was still a senior in high school). I wore my dress uniform, and felt so much older than the high school “kids”, who in reality were only one or two years younger.
At Home Before Going to the OHS Winter Formal
Since she was still in school, Cathy had a curfew most nights. After our dates ended, I often linked up with my buddies Howard, Tim, Mark and others. The drinking age in Illinois was 19 at the time for beer and wine, but nobody really checked. We made the rounds at Berta’s, The Flamingo and Russell’s Tap before finally making it to bed. The next morning I’d wake up and start the cycle all over again. As I recall, sleeping in wasn’t an option.
I’d taken a couple of text books home with me to study over break, but of course I never cracked them. The days and nights raced by.
Finally it was New Year’s Eve and just a couple days before I would return to West Point. I remember going to a party with Cathy at our friend Jack’s home that night. Many of our friends were there. It was a great time, and as the clock struck midnight, there were kisses, handshakes and toasts all around. It was wonderful and things seemed almost perfect.
Maybe an hour later, it hit me. This was all going to end and I would return to the reality of Plebe life. The exhilaration from midnight rapidly disappeared. I crashed and a forlorn feeling took over. I found a quiet spot in an empty room and just sat there thinking. The dread I felt was visceral. Cathy found me a few minutes later and could tell something was wrong. She asked if I was OK and I struggled with words, then just gave up trying to explain. The thing is, she felt it too. We stood there hugging for I don’t know how long.
I more-or-less bounced back the next day and enjoyed my last day or two of freedom. Finally, it was time. As a Plebe, I think I was required to travel in uniform, and when Mom, Dad and Cathy drove me to O’Hare, that’s what I wore. Back then everyone could walk all the way to the gate, and that’s where we said our final goodbyes and “I love you’s”. Mom gave me a care package and with a last wave and a smile, I boarded the plane for New York.
A Smile for Mom, Dad and Cathy as I Boarded the Plane to New York.
At the airport in New York (LaGuardia I think), cadets were everywhere. Most of us made our way to buses for the final fifty miles to our Rock Bound Highland Home on the Hudson. The bus I was on was pretty quiet, with Plebes and upperclassmen alike lost in their own thoughts. By now, I’d steeled my mind for the return to school and Plebe life. I was as ready as I was going to be.
And of course it wasn’t as bad as things looked on New Year’s Eve. I made the Dean’s list that first semester, and by late March or early April, Gloom Period was lifting. As for dealing with upperclassmen and the 4th Class System, that too passed. As the Semester wore on, things became easier and and finally, in June, Recognition Day happened. We were no longer Plebes, but full fledged members of the Corps of Cadets.
To this day, I remember that New Year’s Eve and the roller coaster of emotions I felt. Speaking with Cathy, she too distinctly remembers that night. I recently told her I thought I’d write a blog about New Year’s Eve Plebe year. She immediately knew what I was talking about. I laughed a bit and said something like “I didn’t know you remembered”. She quickly answered “How could I forget?”
Addendum:
*Beanhead – one of the many less flattering terms upperclassman used for Plebes at the time.
I’ve often thought of that New Year’s Eve over the years and the feelings I experienced that night. I’d contemplated writing a blog about it before, but couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. Then, during Christmas season this year, one of my classmates posted an email on his own feelings about the return to West Point after Christmas. Several others chimed in. Some were worried about academics and getting separated due to grades. Others, like me, thought about the return to the 4th Class System for several more months. Still others talked of the general malaise around our return, with Gloom Period settling in. A few told (now) funny stories about missing flights, late arriving girl friends, and even running into the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders during a stopover on the return to the Academy. It’s interesting what binds people together. My classmates and I laugh and now tell stories of those times that seemed so serious back then. Time and distance have brought perspective and a camaraderie that has lasted a lifetime. I feel lucky to be a member of the Proud and Great Class of ‘78. Thanks for the memories, and the continued friendship my brothers.
It’s been a busy couple of weeks for our former president. It’s not every month you get to announce your candidacy for the presidency, have dinner with a couple of racist Hitler fans, and declare the Constitution should be terminated. That’s a full month, even by Trump standards.
I don’t know anyone who was surprised when Trump announced he was going to run for the presidency in 2024. It was all his handlers could do to have him wait until after the midterms to announce. He was expecting a big splash from the midterms themselves, but most of his election denier choices went quietly into the night. Yea, Vance won in Ohio, and Lake is still whining like a mini-Trump in Arizona, but the rest of them? B’bye. None of it slowed down his big announcement though. It was almost as if he was oblivious to anything else happening. And the rest of the Republicans? Perhaps Senator Rubio said it best: “We should not have a Senate GOP leadership vote until we have a clear explanation for why our 2022 campaign efforts failed…”. Ummmm, Senator, I could help you with that…
Of course Mr Trump didn’t slow down. As a matter of fact, in typical fashion, he accelerated. Are any of us surprised he ate dinner with Ye (the former Kanye West) and white nationalist Nick Fuentes? Nothing quite says “there are good people on both sides” like having dinner with a couple of Hitler loving antisemites. It’s never a good sign when Alex Jones is distancing himself from some of your dinner guest’s comments, as Jones later did during his interview with Ye. The Republican response to all of this? Again deafening silence. Senator McConnell managed to say “Let me just say that there is no room in the Republican Party for antisemitism or white supremacy. And anyone meeting with people advocating that point of view, in my judgment, are highly unlikely to ever be elected president of the United States.” The brave Senator couldn’t bring himself to utter the “T” word.
Ye and Fuentes… “I See Good Things About Hitler”
Which of course brings us to Mr Trump’s most recent episode. His blast on the Truth Social network was … interesting. He called for “the termination of all rules, regulations, and articles, even those found in the Constitution,” because he lost the last election for president. He wants to be declared the “RIGHTFUL WINNER,” or “have a NEW ELECTION.” (All CAPS are directly from the Trump quote) Wow. Wanting to terminate the Constitution finally drew some rebuttals from the right, but not from everyone.
Just as the events of Charlottesville, or January 6th, or his continuing election denial caused some people to leave the Trump orbit, another dribble of people are departing after the Ye/Fuentes dinner and the subsequent “termination of the Constitution” comments. The vast majority of his core? Like a married couple, they are there through thick and thin, for better or worse. There will be no divorce. They will follow him to the bitter end, however that turns out.
I’m not really sure why I wrote this blog. It’s not going to change any minds. Having said that, I think we all have a duty to bear witness to what is going on in this country. If we don’t continue to speak out, the future becomes a foregone conclusion. As Edmund Burke (or maybe someone else) famously said “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
I have a couple of last questions for you. First, if Joe Biden declared he wanted to terminate the Second Amendment, what would the immediate reaction be? And second, does anyone doubt Trump would terminate the Constitution in a heartbeat if he could?
Finally, those of us who served in the military or the government swore an oath that started with these phrases: “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same;”. For my West Point and former military comrades who still support Mr. Trump, I guess we are finally at that point. Which do you support – Mr Trump, or the Constitution?
Live Life Exuberantly 