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Greetings! You are reading an article from The Mudville Gazette. To reach the front page, with all the latest news and views, click the logo above or "main" below. Thanks for stopping by!
« Hairspray | Main | Say Again? »

October 19, 2004

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Armored Cowboys

By Greyhawk

The sidewalks of my dusty town are made of wood and blood, rising up above loose sands to ease the burden of walking armored from point A to B. Here where the sidewalk ends a man not long ago a boy stands vigil in a slapped-together shack; at the sound of heavy boots on wood he rises and renders greetings. Return that greeting with a smile and present your bona fides, nod and sincerely wish a good day as he waves you on.

On my town's streets and sidewalks armored cowboys stroll; gunslingers in the literal sense, inheritors of the tradition.

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Elsewhere many have compared Iraq to Vietnam, or to other conflicts or places or times, but they miss the real analogy: the American west. You can even see it in our manner of dress, boots and vests and hats and loaded weapons. Here is violence and opportunity, the land of hard edges and harder lessons, and here the brave from all over the world can find fortune, while the timid seek what they can elsewhere. "Back East" as the cowboys said. Back in the big cities, in the softer places.

Back in the World.

Here too are Indians, in the fearsome cliché sense, but they too are invaders here and though they lack the courage of the legendary masters of the plains they have this in common: their fate is certain. But no reservation awaits those who struggle tooth and nail against the inevitable return of civilization to this desert landscape - they are seekers of paradise and many are willing to help them along. They are to be swept away, and how you feel about it matters about as much as how you feel about the return of high tide to your favorite shore.

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Indeed we're far from paradise in this unforgiving land. Relentless and dangerous now, but as the danger subsides and the land is made safe for wimmen an' young'uns and men of less bold nature so too will opportunity fade and great rewards become elusive. Then inevitably a day will come when those who never saw it will nonetheless rewrite it all, denying good but naming bad guys on both sides, bemoaning the fall of the noble savage and pointing out the ruin that modern living brought to the land. The groundwork for those stories is being laid today; the wooden frames on which those versions of truth will rise are being slapped together now by writers in sequestered cloisters and their editors "back east".

And yes, then others will complain of the pacification, wail in futility that they were born too late, that the soft edges have come and brought the death of all adventure here. So be it. Truth is that I'd love to live to see that day. To tell my grandchildren tales of how it really was, and wonder would they think me the doddering old fool...

Speaking of days when the sidewalks of my town were made of wood and blood.

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Sometimes the re-writes don't take long. Even before sundown on the day of the rule of the gun there were ruthless men made heroes of a sort; in dime novels, penny dreadfuls and Buffalo Bill's Wild West those who once claimed scalps as prizes paraded to cheers and jeers. Now a new face of evil appeals to that same something in that same certain segment of the population, offering confirmation that they were right to spurn opportunity and remain in some small comfort in distant shelter. These new icons of fear are in the ring at the 21st century Barnum's, and you can find them from where you are now with a couple twitches of your hand, courtesy of those 'hero-makers' in their distant towers back east.

Towers that stand as small reminders of greater things that once were there above the rivers of stone, paved like free streets everywhere with the blood of heroes and dreamers and fools.


Posted by Greyhawk / October 19, 2004 6:24 PM | Permalink

4 TrackBacks

"Armored Cowboys" from Cowboy Blob's Saloon, Humidor, and Shootin Parlor on October 20, 2004 3:07 AM

Greyhawk of the Mudville Gazette is deployed to the Sharp End. His words and pictures evoke visions of a simpler, rougher, and more deadly existence in the Old West.... Read More

Milblogger Greyhawk at the Mudville Gazette has gotten mighty poetic for a rough, fightin' man in comparing the Iraq of today to the American "wild west". That comparison is more apt, as he points out, than any comparison to Vietnam. Read More

Milblogger Greyhawk at the Mudville Gazette has gotten mighty poetic for a rough, fightin' man in comparing the Iraq of today to the American "wild west". That comparison is more apt, as he points out, than any comparison to Vietnam. Read More

loss of a Marine; Grayhawk sandbox stories; combat lifesavers; phasing out energy subsidies in Iraq; Iraq wants stolen OFF money; Sunni election boycott threatened; Secular democracy in Iraq?; UN won't train Iraq judges; Annan says it's inconceivable; ... Read More

4 Comments

Beautiful Baby!!! A real "think" piece.

Good piece but remind me again how exactly the Indians in the old west were "invaders"? Seems to me they were run out of the land they inhabited long before the white man.

Slarrow, I hear you, I'm sure that was the intent, guess Iam just a literal reader and he does use the word "too" in that sentence twice inplying that the American Indian was an invader also.

You are misreading the piece. The "Indians", in italics, are the foreign terrorists. They, too, are invaders, as we are.

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November 26, 2010


America@war
[Greyhawk]
I think anyone who's ever pondered the "comment" option - once only available on blogs and bulletin boards, now ubiquitous on almost any web site - will appreciate this:
The so-called faculty of writing is not so much a faculty of writing as it is a faculty of thinking. When a man says, "I have an idea but I can't express it"; that man hasn't an idea but merely a vague feeling. If a man has a feeling of that kind, and will sit down for a half an hour and persistently try to put into writing what he feels, the probabilities are at least 90 percent that he will either be able to record it, or else realize that he has no idea at all. In either case, he will do himself a benefit.

That's wisdom from the past, captured for posterity at the US Naval Institute, shared via the web on the institute's 137th anniversary.

From their about page:

The Naval Institute shall remain

INDEPENDENT - A non-profit member association, with no government support, that does not lobby for special interests;

NON-PARTISAN - An independent, professional military association with a mission, goals and objectives that transcend political affiliations; and shall encourage

IDEAS - Through its respected journals Proceedings and Naval History, its conferences, its books and its online content, in support of those who serve.

"The Naval Institute has three core activities," among them, History and Preservation:

The Naval Institute also has recently introduced Americans at War, a living history of Americans at war in their own words and from their own experiences. These 90-second vignettes convey powerful stories of inspiration, pride, and patriotism.

Take a look at the collection, and you'll see it's not limited to accounts from those who served on ships at sea, members of the other branches are well-represented.

I'm fortunate to have met USNI's Mary Ripley, she's responsible for the institute's oral history program (and she's the daughter of the late John Ripley, whose story is told here). She also deserves much credit for their blog. ("We're not the Navy nor any government agency. Blog and comment freely.") We met at a milblog conference - Mary knew (and I would come to realize) that milbloggers are the 21st-century version of exactly what the US Naval Institute is all about. Once that light bulb came on in my head, I mentioned a vague idea for a project to her - milblogs as the 21st century oral history that they are.

"Put that in writing," she said (of course - see first paragraph above!) - and here's part of the result.

Shortly after the first tent was pitched by the American military in Iraq a wire was connected to a computer therein, and the internet was available to a generation of Americans at war - many of whom had grown up online. From that point on, at any given moment, somewhere in Iraq a Soldier, Sailor, Airman or Marine was at a keyboard sharing the events of his or her day with the folks back home. While most would simply fire off an email, others took advantage of the (then) relatively new online blogging platforms to post their thoughts and experiences for the entire world to see. The milblog was born - and from that moment to this stories detailing everything from the most mundane aspects of camp life to intense combat action (often described within hours of the event) have been available on the web...

And et cetera - but since you're reading this on a milblog, you probably knew that. And you know that milblogs aren't just blogs written by troops at war, that many friends, family members, and supporters likewise documented their story of America at war online in near-real time, as those stories developed.

The diversity in membership of that group is broad, the one thing we all have in common is the impulse to make sense of the seemingly senseless, and communicate the tale - for each of us that impulse was strong enough to overcome whatever barriers prevent the vast majority of people from doing the same. Everyone at some point has some vague idea they believe should be shared - we were the people who, from some combination of internal and external urging, found and spent those many half hours persistently trying to write it down.

*****

But where will all that be in another 137 years? Or five or ten, for that matter. That's something I've asked myself since at least 2004 - when I wrote this:

Closing Blogs is nothing new. So many site's owners just give up on their own. They come and go, you know, these MilBloggers do. Like any other sort of blogger. Many post in the lonely down hours far from home, spill their guts for the world, then abandon their spots when the tour of duty is up. They have lives again somewhere in the world, and no need to share the details. So it goes.

Many are truly gone - no site left at all. "The page cannot be found." Other blogs remain, like abandoned defensive positions in shifting desert sands.

Membership in the ghost battalion has grown in the years since, and an ever growing majority of those abandoned-but-still-standing sites are vanishing. Have you checked out Lt Smash's site lately? How about Sgt Hook's? If you're a long-time milblog reader you know the first widely-read milblog from Operation Iraq Freedom and the first widely-read milblog from Afghanistan are both gone from the web. If you're a relative newcomer to this world you may never even have heard of them - or the dozens upon dozens of others who carried forth the standard they set down.

If you have a vague notion that something should be done about that, (a notion I've heard expressed more than once...) then you and I and the good folks at the US Naval Institute are in agreement. Preserving the history documented by the milbloggers is just one of the goals of the milblog project, the once-vague idea that we're now making real.

And it's a big idea, if I say so myself - too big to explain in one simple blog post, so stand by for more. Likewise, it's too big a task to be accomplished by just one person. So if you're a milblogger (and exactly what is a milblogger? is a topic for much further discussion on its own) I'm asking for your help. All I'll really need is just a little bit (maybe just one or two of those half hours...) of your time, and your willingness to tell the tale.

We've already made history, it's time to save it.

(More to follow...)




Posted 4:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) |

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The Mudville Gazette is the on-line voice of an American warrior and his wife who stands by him. They prefer to see peaceful change render force of arms unnecessary. Until that day they stand fast with those who struggle for freedom, strike for reason, and pray for a better tomorrow.
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  • flenser: You are misreading the piece. The "Indians", in italics, are read more
  • mike d.: Slarrow, I hear you, I'm sure that was the intent, read more
  • mike d.: Good piece but remind me again how exactly the Indians read more
  • drjazzb: Beautiful Baby!!! A real "think" piece. read more

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The Mudville Gazette is written and produced by Greyhawk, who recently retired from 24 years of active duty in the US military, but will maintain this disclaimer: Unless otherwise credited, the opinions expressed are those of the author, and nothing here is to be taken as representing the official position of or endorsement by the United States Department of Defense or any of its subordinate components.

Furthermore, I will occasionally use satire or parody herein. The bottom line: it's my house.

I like having visitors to my house. I hope you are entertained. I fight for your right to free speech, and am thrilled when you exercise said rights here. Comments and e-mails are welcome, but all such communication is to be assumed to be 1)the original work of any who initiate said communication and 2)the property of the Mudville Gazette, with free use granted thereto for publication in electronic or written form. If you do NOT wish to have your message posted, write "CONFIDENTIAL" in the subject line of your email.

Original content copyright © 2003 - 2011 by Greyhawk. Fair, not-for-profit use of said material by others is encouraged, as long as acknowledgement and credit is given, to include the url of the original source post. Other arrangements can be made as needed.

Contact: greyhawk at mudvillegazette dot com

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*****

Tending Distant
Fires


Far from hearth and home, watching
Cold alone but not alone
On distant shore and only wanting
Safe return and little more

What tales we'll tell
When that time comes
When tales can be told

When things grim
Seem far away
When other fires go cold

Some distant sunset, vision fading
Memories remain
And tired eyes gaze 'pon folded flags
While distant drums beat their refrain

Saluting fallen friends whose names
And youth will never fade
Here's to those on other shores,
for them live well, the price is paid

- Greyhawk,
Baghdad,
December 2004