Showing posts with label Fort Ord. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fort Ord. Show all posts

Friday, April 10, 2009

Fort Ord Dunes State Park, Monterey Bay, CA

The Ft Ord Dunes State Park is finally open. It occupies in part the site of the now demolished Stillwell Hall, well remembered by vets from WWII to Vietnam as the enlisted men's rec facility at Ft Ord. It succumbed to the erosion of the dunes a few years ago. The park had to go through a Super Fund environmental cleanup, mostly due to lead from the firing ranges that occupied the shore side of the dunes.

Stillwell Hall was the creation of "Vinegar Joe" Stillwell who built this unique and superb rec facility for enlisted men. It was superior to most any officer's club at the time. It says a lot about "Vinegar Joe" and how he felt about the common soldier.

If you would like to see what Stillwell Hall looked like, and it's worth a look, follow this link http://www.mtycounty.com/pgs-fortord/Stillwell.html

General Joe Stillwell is a story unto himself and for those so inclined, there is a wealth of information on line about him. Google ""Vinegar Joe Stillwell" and take a look at the remarkable figure from American history.

I was glad to finally have access to the dunes without having to hike long distances through ankle deep sand up steep dunes.

Sunday, March 01, 2009

I Want to Be An Airborne Ranger, I Want to Lead a Life of Danger ...

Today I was wandering around the long closed Ft Ord with Gwyn Weger shooting pictures for promotional materials her novel East Garrison. When I came to this old Ranger battalion HQ, I was just overcome with a profound sense of sadness. The place was full of ghosts of heroic men to whom we owe so much. It gave me goose bumps.

Uu-rah Rangers! Rest in peace. You are not forgotten.

As I walked these hallowed streets, I could not help but think of Rudyard Kipling and his poem Tommy:

Tommy
Rudyard Kipling

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.


I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

Copyright Notice

All images on this site are copyrighted. It is expected that copyright will be respected. Please do not copy or otherwise use these images without permission of the copyright owner, John A. Wilson.