Mr. Johnson, USMC – Part I


“Koji, funerals don’t do a damn thing for me anymore.”

That was Mr. Johnson’s reply while I was driving us to Old Man Jack’s funeral.  I had asked him to help hold me together as I knew I would fall apart.

“Oh-oh,” I thought to myself when I heard that curt reply.  “I guess I hit a nerve…”

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Old man Jack on the left, Mr. Johnson on the right. Taken June 30, 2005.

Mr. Johnson was Old Man Jack’s next door neighbor.

Since 1953.

Nearly SIXTY years.  Hell, I ain’t that old yet.  Well, I’m close.

They got along real well for those 60 years… except Jack was a sailor… and Mr. Johnson was a Marine.  They reminded each other of it often.

Lovingly, of course.

Old Man Jack happily reminisced that “…us white caps would also tussle with them Marines ‘cuz they thought they were better than us”.  But Jack would have gotten the short end of the stick if he took on Mr. Johnson.  He towered over Jack and me…

And Mr. Johnson was a decorated WWII Marine.

Decorated twice…that I know of.

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The neighborhood called him “Johnnie”.  I always addressed him as Mr. Johnson…He used to say, “Damn it, Koji.  I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

I never did call him Johnnie.

But in the end, we found out his real name was Doreston.  Doreston Johnson.

Born August 1, 1923 in Basile, Louisiana.  A tiny town, he said, and everyone was dirt broke.

But I wish I knew why he wanted to go by “Johnnie” but later, I discovered Doreston was his father’s name.

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After Jack passed away, I visited with him.  He opened up a bit.

The Depression made it tough on everybody but then war…

When war broke out, he was gung ho like many young boys at that time.

It was expected.  You were branded a coward if you didn’t enlist or eluded the draft.  You were at the bottom of the heap if you got classified 4F.

He said went to the Army recruiting station.  They said they met their quota, couldn’t take him right away and to try again next week.

He then went to the Navy recruiter.  They also said pretty much the same thing but that there was an outfit “over there that’ll take ya”.

It was the United States Marine Corps.

Notice the 1903 Springfield in this 1942 recruiting poster.

The Marines “took him”…right then and there, he said.

Mr. Johnson said, “I was a dumb, stupid kid at that time”  – slowly shaking his head…but with a boyish little grin.

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It was 1941…  When the United States Navy had their backs against the beaches…  MacArthur blundered after Pearl Harbor and thousands of soldiers were taken prisoner in the Philippines.

The country’s military was poorly equipped and poorly trained.  With outdated equipment like the 1903 Springfield and the Brewster Buffalo.  And most gravely, the US Navy was outgunned.

Mr. Johnson was in for it.

To be continued.  Mr. Johnson, USMC – Part II here

Two Old Men and a Father’s Day Anguish


It was Monday, Valentines’ Day 2001.  My wife was five months pregnant at the time we moved into this wonderful neighborhood smothered in US Naval glory.  After I came back from work the next day, she told me a kind old man stopped her as she was wheeling out the trash bin.  She said he hobbled from across our quiet, peppercorn lined street then kindly wheeled them out for her.

I found out the “old man” was a World War II combat vet.  Worse yet, he was a sailor in the Pacific – he fought the Japanese in World War II.

“Holy crap,” flashed through my mind, “What if he finds out we’re Japanese?”

Twelve years later, I was honored to have been a pallbearer at his funeral.

I was so far off base about my first thoughts on Old Man Jack that even George Burns could have picked me off without being called for a balk…and this while he was in his grave.

I felt so ashamed.

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I snapped this picture of a happy Jack Garrett when we went to the Chino Planes of Fame in 2003.

“Young man, get over here and plant your butt in that chair,” barked old man Jack from his cluttered garage across the street.  Having lived in that house since 1953, it was filled with his life history.

“But I have my stogie going, Jack”, said I.

“Well, I can see it and I sure as hell can smell it.  Now shut up and sit down.  I want to tell you something.”

That was old man Jack, my dear neighbor who lived across the street.  I like to think we were close.

He was 87 years old by that summer’s day in 2010 when he called me over.  While he had become feeble, his barrel chest was still prominent.  He was a rabble-rouser in his youth.  He was always “mixing it up” throughout his young years…  Well, he was mixing it up even while working at Northrup in the 50’s.  That makes me grin.

His handshake was always firm and warm; you didn’t need to be psychic to sense his insight and outlook on life.  He always spoke his mind.  He earned that right having been shot at, strafed, and bombed on “those stinkin’ islands” during a most bitter war.

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Taken on Father’s Day 2010

I had invited Jack to Father’s Day dinner that summer just two years ago; my Dad who was 91 was coming as well.

Jack knew my dad was US Army but I fretted over what they would say to each other when they first met.  Or how they would react to one another.  It was more than just a concern over the centuries old rivalry between Army and Navy.

Dad was in the front room when Jack rang the bell – right on time as always.  Jack had on his favorite blue plaid shirt; he wore it often as it had a pocket for his glasses.  I often wondered how often he washed it, though.  Jack and Dad are shown here on Father’s Day 2010.

“Dad,” I said, “This is Jack, US Navy, Aviation Machinist’s Mate, First Class, the Pacific.”

“Jack, this is my Dad.  US 8th Army, sergeant, Military Intelligence Service.”

Although not as agile as they once were, they immediately saluted each other.

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You didn’t need a sound system to hear them.  Dad and Jack are both hard of hearing.

It was easy to hear Jack ask Dad what he did in the Army.  Dad explained he went into a room once a week and retrieved a crate from a room that reeked of dry cleaning.  (The crates contained documents, photos and other personal items written in Japanese.  They were removed from a WWII battlefield.)  He would then translate them for military intelligence.

I had to tend to cooking so I lost track of the conversation.  It was regretful I didn’t keep tuned in.

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So back to being called over by Jack.  He was sitting in his favorite blue wheelchair.  He didn’t need it but it belonged to his beloved wife Carol who passed away ten years before.  They married in the waning days of the war.  They had been married for 55 strong years.

“So what did you want to tell me, Jack?” I asked.

He then went into his trance – one signaling evident anguish and remembrances.  When he went into these trances, he always started by staring at his hands while picking at his right thumbnail with his left ring finger.  He would lift his once thick eyebrows then begin talking in a slow, deliberate pace, never taking his eyes off his hands.

“I went on ID patrol…” Jack whispered.

“ID patrol?  What is that?” I asked.

“They would issue six of us white caps M1s with bayonets…  Then we’d follow two Marines on a patrol into the jungle.”

“Patrol?  You?  You were ground crew, Jack,” I remarked.

“Ain’t enough of them (Marines) to go around on those stinkin’ islands so we got picked,” he said, still speaking in a lifeless monotone.  He added, “If you got killed, you rotted real quick in that heat.  And if you got killed with shit in your pants, you got buried with shit in your pants.”

His stare doesn’t change.  His eyes have glassed over.  He is in a different world – one that only combat veterans understand.  You and I never will.  Thankfully.

“The Marines had two bags – one small one and a big one.  When we found one, the two Marines would stand guard.  We’d hold the rifle by the butt end and use the fixed bayonet to fish out the tags.”

I then realized what he was painfully regurgitating.  They were going back into the jungle to locate the dead Marines they had to leave behind after a “tussle” with the enemy as Jack liked to say.  Jack was only 20 years old.  The Marines were likely younger.  Ponder that thought.

“We weren’t allowed to touch the (dead Marine) as the Japs would booby-trap ‘em.  We’d hand over the tags hanging on the the end of the bayonet to one of the Marines who would put a tag in the small bag.  They marked a map for the graves registration guys to come back later.”

Jack’s delivery dimmed even further.  “But we’d come across a dead Jap.  Nobody cared about them so they rotted where they were.  But we’d have to stick the bayonet into the rotting goo and try to fish stuff out.  The prize was a pouch or a satchel.  Those would go into the big duffel bag.  We headed back to CP and that’s the last I saw of those bags,” he said.

He abruptly ended but his unconscious stare didn’t change.  He was still picking at his thumbnail all this time.  His head hardly moved while he sat in the blue wheelchair that belonged to his beloved wife.

I thought to myself, “Is that the end, Jack?  That’s it?  Why did you tell me this?”  I knew not to pry any more so I kept the thoughts to myself.  He was in torment already.  Seventy years had passed but he was reliving the awfulness of a brutal war.  Nevertheless, I wondered why he chose that time to tell me about this horrific recall of something he experienced so very young.

It bugged me for several weeks.

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About a month later, I understood why Jack told me the story.  Apparently, the items they recovered from Japanese corpses were dry cleaned to remove the rotting body fluids.  After getting dry cleaned, they ended up in the crates that were in the room my Dad went into once a week when he was in the Military Intelligence Service…and why the room reeked of dry cleaning.

The brief chat with my dad on Father’s Day sparked that memory back to life.  It had been eating at him since that day.  He wanted to get it off his barrel chest.

I lament to this day that a Father’s Day dinner had resulted in an unwanted recall of horror Jack was very much trying to forget.  More so, I lament he relived such horrors each night for the last 70 years of his life.  Seventy years.

Jack was a great man to have endured combat in the Pacific during World War II.  He was an immeasurable giant in learning to forgive – although he was never able to forget.

I miss him greatly.  I thanked him for all we have when I visited him today at his grave on this glorious Memorial Day.

Just Some Snapshots #9


Holding Uncle Paul's Congressional Gold Medal for the first time, Aunt Eiko cried for happy.  Incidentally, she became an American citizen about ten years ago.

My Aunt holding Uncle Paul’s Congressional Gold Medal for the first time, Aunt Eiko cried for happy. Incidentally, she became an American citizen about 15 years ago.

Writing about the firebombing of Tokyo during WWII based upon my aunt’s written notes and conversations has been a project in process.

My simple goal is to be factual; however, I hesitate as I am fearful some people may view it for what it not.

We’ll see.

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In the meantime…

For many of you, Autumn is in full swing.  Here, in southern California, it is barely starting with daytime temps still in the high 70’s and 80’s.  There is forecast of nearing 90F this week!

Here are just some recent snapshots taken here and there:

An aster Explored on flickr

Blooming Aster - EXPLORED 10/19/2014

A plumeria in B&W

Plumeria in B&W - EXPLORED 10/14/2015

A petunia petal in B&W

Petunia in B&W

This cute pup always comes to sit on my lap while I wait at my local barbershop.  Just too cute!

2014-10-17-14-47-31

Enjoy your week.

Fairy Tales, Dragons and MacArthur – Part 2


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Japanese artwork from “Reports of General MacArthur – Japanese Operations in the Southwest Pacific Area Volume II Part II”, Page 595. US Army

(Continuation from Part 1)

Mitsuko went about Tokyo seeking artists to paint war scenes from the Japanese point of view.  This task was made much easier as Willoughby gave her permission to ride about in her own private jeep.  This was a definite indicator of his affection for Mitsuko as all Japanese women were prohibited from even riding in any Allied military vehicle, let alone have one assigned to her.¹  With her purse flush with cash from Willoughby, Mitsuko paid starving artists large sums of money for art pieces depicting the war from the Japanese point of view.  It was reported that she paid these artists up to several hundred dollars for one piece; this caused great dissension amongst the Japanese men who were assigned to compile the history.  At that time, a year’s average salary rarely exceeded $150.  Many of these men were also former Japanese military and were required to address their superiors as if they were still in the military.  Kawabe ran the group as if it were still his army.  Some of them found it dishonorable to be even working “for the invaders”, as my Tokyo grandmother liked to say.

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Japanese artwork from “Reports of General MacArthur Japanese Operations in the Southwest Pacific Area Volume II Part II”, Page 472. US Army

Fraud was suspected with respect to Kawabe and Arisue.  To further their spying, they asked for and received a tidy sum of money from Willoughby to supposedly increase spying activities on the Communists in the surrounding Asiatic regions.  Similar to what is happening today but on a grander scale, some of these supposed spies just “disappeared” after receiving a supposed cash payment.  While the CIA apparently came to the conclusion there was a scam going on, they failed to take remedial action.

In a further documented twist, the subservient Hattori was himself pursuing his own agenda in secret.  Actually, he had two secret and separate agendas.

taihei

Hattori’s condensed 大東亜戦争前史 , or “The Complete History of the Great East Asia War”. It is also in DVD.

First, as he solely determined what would go into the Japanese-version of the history, Hattori was absconding with selected crucial documents that came across his desk.  He had schemed that once “the invaders” left, he would write his way into history by publishing his own “true” version of the war against the Allies. By 1953, he was partly successful in that he did put together an eight volume history entitled “大東亜戦争全史”, or “The Complete History of the Great East Asia War”.

Second, he was gung-ho to re-arm the new Japan.  It is reported that by 1949, the brilliant planner Hattori had drawn up a four division army with key officer positions already determined, complete with detailed arms and logistics laid out.

He passed away in 1960.  In another twist of fate, his original publication was condensed into a thousand page book and published five years later under the same title.²

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As for Willoughby, he also pursued his own agenda.  Yes, he was motivated to glorify his commanding officer, General MacArthur, in the history books.  Using the funding from G-2, the project moved along out in the open.  Most anyone knew about it although it was done under a military intelligence umbrella.

However, in late 1947, G-2’s history department requested copies of the documented history.  In a bewildering response, Willoughby replied by saying it was not ready; he also replied in like for the Japanese volumes.  But what made it bizarre was that he stated it was but MacArthur’s personal record – a report, if you will – of what happened during the war…  Essentially, that it was not an official US Army publication.  As such, it would not be subject to review and approval by the US Army prior to publication.  However, in a kind gesture, Willoughby indicated they would receive copies once it was published.

Willoughby went to a former Army officer, General Stackpole, in 1948; he owned a publishing company specializing in military history.  Due to the immenseness of the volumes, Stackpole declined participation on the grounds it was too large a printing effort for his company.  Willoughby then sought out Japanese printing companies but they were still in shambles from the war.  He was unsuccessful.  It was reported unofficially that MacArthur had known, at least, of the attempt.

Eventually, five samples of the “report” were published in 1950 by a Japanese printing company with the assistance of Washington.  However, during this time, Willoughby – for (their) mutual protection – ordered all extraneous documentation collected during this five-year project that may jeopardize MacArthur’s hero status destroyed… and they were.  Even notes and drafts were burned.  The burning was supervised on March 2, 1951 by two US Army officers assigned to Willoughby’s history detachment.

The reasoning and significance behind this burning at that time is now clear.  On April 11, 1951, President Truman relieved General MacArthur of his duties for his handling of the Korean War.  To give you an idea of the volumes of documentation collected yet remaining after the burning, MacArthur brought back 32 footlockers full of documentation.  Willoughby himself brought three more which apparently contained the galley proofs.  He claimed these were MacArthur’s personal property… a diary of sorts.  Willoughby managed to convince the government to finally print the “report” in 1953; however, MacArthur intervened and squashed the agreement citing the documentation was full of errors and was just a draft.  It was not printed.

book cover macMacArthur did sell his memoirs for nearly $1 million in 1963 but like Hattori, MacArthur passed away soon thereafter in April 1964 and ironically never saw his memoirs published.

Nevertheless, the US Army finally did publish the two-sided “history” of WWII in 1967 after MacArthur’s death.  The publication is entitled “Reports of General MacArthur” and can be read online at several websites.  Previously owned hard copies are also available online.  It is immense.  From what I understand, the Army disclaimed any responsibility over its accuracy throughout its four volumes.  It does contain the original Japanese artwork sought out by Mitsuko.³

Willoughby passed away in October 1972 in Naples, Florida.  He is buried in Arlington.

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Villaba1

“Reports of General MacArthur”. Page 533. While the Imperial Japanese Army informed my grandmother Uncle Suetaro was killed on July 15, 1945 at Villaba, this battle report is unfortunately dated for March 1945.

In closing, I came across some information in the “Reports of General MacArthur” as to the action that potentially led to the combat death of my own Uncle Suetaro on Leyte near a village called Villaba…on Page 533 of Volume 2, Part 2.  My Hiroshima cousins believe he was assigned to the Imperial Japanese Army’s 41st Mixed Regiment; it had been annihilated on Leyte.  He was reportedly killed on July 15, 1945 but it is clear per MacArthur’s “report” that centralized Japanese army command on Leyte had ceased in March 1945 per this Japanese record.

Perhaps finding out exactly what happened to my Uncle Suetaro will only occur in a fairy tale.  To realize I will never find out is my dragon to slay.

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Footnote:

1  Though I have yet to see one photo, my mother and aunt claim our Uncle Taro took them around what was left of Tokyo in his US Army jeep.  Uncle Taro was a Private in the US 8th Army’s Military Intelligence Service.

2  Unbelievably, it is available on Amazon Japan.

3  Although I have scoured Japanese websites, only scant sentences can be found about Mitsuko.  Her fate is unknown to me except for her grave marker.

Fairy Tales, Dragons and MacArthur – Part 1


As I watched “How to Train Your Dragon” on Blu-Ray for the third time with my kids, it became clear that knights in shining armor kill dragons…and only in fairy tales.

A tremendous Einstein moment for this old geezer.

But then I realized that sometimes, what we read about WWII history can be sort of a fairy tale, complete with a knight in shining armor trying to slay a dragon… the dragon being what truly happened in war.

History becomes what the writer – or a leader – wants it to be in the public domain.

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Unknown to many is that another battle raged after the surrender of Japan.  It was about what was to be recorded as an official history of WWII.  It was a battle involving glorification, greed and politics of both the victors and the defeated.

And of course, it involved General of the Army Douglas MacArthur.

General of the Army Douglas MacArthur www.historychannel.com

General of the Army Douglas MacArthur
http://www.historychannel.com

First, a quick opinion and summary of MacArthur from this arm-chair (amateur) historian’s viewpoint.

MacArthur had a helluva an ego as did George Patton and Bernard Montgomery.  He was suspicious, short tempered, short on patience and embittered.  MacArthur – as did Patton – studied military history extensively; he loved Napoleon.  As commander, he failed to appropriately alert the troops under his command in the Philippines immediately prior to Pearl and worse yet, in the hours after.  He had to flee the Philippines on a PT boat along with his family to avoid capture leaving behind his troops.  However, supported by a brilliant, top notch staff and highly critical intel derived from intercepted then deciphered Japanese transmissions, he was highly successful in winning the war in the Pacific.  He was a hero at war’s end to his great gratification.  He was so loved by the American public that quite a few babies were named Douglas.

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Primarily due to a ridiculously small and inexperienced staff, only a relatively short written history of WWII in the Pacific emerged in late 1946 to the chagrin of MacArthur.  He immediately then placed Major General Charles Willoughby in charge of generating an “official” history.

willoughby kawabe

Willoughby (left) then Kawabe. http://www.trumanlibrary.org

Willoughby was in charge of the US Army’s G-2 (i.e., military intelligence) in the Southwest Pacific theater of war and was trusted by MacArthur.  (I briefly reported on Willougby in “Ike, a German-American Soldier”.)  Having a heavy German accent, Willoughby was very loyal to MacArthur, pompous and stoutly anti-Communist.  He seized the opportunity to “write the history” on victory in the Pacific under MacArthur’s leadership.

The tiny staff then blossomed under Willoughby to over 100 and was headquartered on the 3rd floor of the “NYK Building (Nippon Yusen Kaisha)” just a block from MacArthur’s GHQ in the Dai-Ichi Seimei Building; both are situated directly across the Imperial Palace.  (Coincidentally, my dad was stationed in the NYK Building on the 4th Floor as a US 8th Army Technical Sergeant, 3rd Grade in Willoughby’s G-2. He is pictured below with the edge of MacArthur’s GHQ seen on the extreme right. The NYK Building is off the picture to his left.  Behind him is the moat of the Imperial Palace.)

By the Emperor's Palace 1947

Aviary Photo_130579620590287532

You can clearly see the devastation caused by firebombing. http://www.geocities.jp/torikai016/map/P0229tokyo-tokyo1947.jpg

Seeking glory in this mission, Willoughby recruited by the end of 1946 top Japanese military officers, spies and even war criminals.  Each had their own personal goals and copious amounts of US money flowed into these Japanese hands.  One Japanese officer who Willoughby met in Manila was the Imperial Japanese Army’s Lt. General Torashiro Kawabe (photo above).  Amazingly, because Kawabe also spoke German very well and was anti-Communist, he and Willoughby struck it off well.

A short time later, still in 1946, Willoughby met Lt. General Seizo Arisue who was the intelligence chief for the Imperial Japanese Army.  By sheer luck, Arisue was also fluent in German and a staunch anti-Communist and reported he had the extensive spy network in place mentioned above.  A triad had thus formed and the project to document history took off but with a twist: to Willoughby’s credit, he foresaw a “dual” history.  As history always gets written by the victor, Willoughby wanted two volumes.   One would be the US side of the story, the second volume to be Japan’s.

In early 1947, Willoughby was introduced to a former colonel who served at the Imperial General Headquarters in Tokyo during the war.  His name was Col. Takuhiro Hattori.  Hattori was known to both Kawabe and Arisue as a genius in planning and organizing.  Hattori eventually became the person from Japan’s side to determine what went into the war history.

araki_mi2

Crypt, or ohaka, of the Araki’s in Japan. Click on link to a Japanese website, “History Sleeps in This Cemetery”. http://www6.plala.or.jp/guti/cemetery/PERSON/A/araki_mi.html

Generous money flowed through Willoughby to Kawabe and Arisue, reportedly to help fund the spy network.  Along the way, they brought in an “Issei” (a Japan-born first generation immigrant to the US like my grandfather) plus a university professor named Mitsutaro Araki.  He also received education in Germany but no history would be complete without sexual escapades.  Professor Araki’s wife was a socialite who used her beauty to charm others, primarily men.  Her name was Mitsuko Araki. As a bit of trivia, Mitsuko was the only Japanese who was allowed free, unhindered entry/exit to GHQ.  It was believed the CIA concluded she and Willoughby were having an affair.

In his efforts to make his recorded history unique, Willoughby paid Mitsuko to find and compensate artists who could paint battle scenes from Japanese eyes.  He felt photos were too ordinary plus many were from US sources.

To be continued in Part 2.

The Code Talkers, Part I


Mustang.Koji:

Talk about patriotism!

Originally posted on Fix Bayonets:

EGA 1940-001Young Philip Johnston loved the Navajo culture; it was the environment within which he grew up as a child of missionary parents. By age five, Philip knew the Navajo language well enough to serve as a translator, and by age nine, when most boys that age were riding their bicycles and trading baseball cards, he had served as the official translator of a Navajo delegation sent to the nation’s capital to negotiate expanded rights for the Navajo Indians.

In time, however, Philip Johnston would grow into manhood and when his country entered World War I, he would leave the Southwest to enlist and serve in the war to end all wars. After the war, Philip earned a degree in civil engineering at the University of Southern California and when war came once more to America’s shores on 7 December 1941, Johnston was hard at work as an engineer for the…

View original 1,113 more words

Published!


15295023207_41d2147918_o

So when I picked up my two kids from school today, I thought I’d surprise them.

I said, “Your Papa had a couple of his stories published in a book!”

Their response?  “Oh…”

“Would you like to read it?”

Brooke said, “Umm…  No-ah!”

The “-ah” is because she talks valley-girl sometimes and accentuates the end of words at the end of a short sentence with a “-ah”.   In this case, her answer was resounding”No.”

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Fellow blogger Russ Towne (his blog here) invited me to consider contributing to a non-fiction anthology.  Considering this would be the first time ever any story of mine would be published, I gave it a shot!  Not that I know anything about writing let alone publishing.

The book is now published and available on Amazon for $8.99 – less than minimum wage!  What a deal!  He entitled his anthology “Slices of Life”.  Russ wrote on his blog:

“I’m pleased to announce that Slices of Life has been released and is available on Amazon.com!

Slices of Life is an anthology of the selected non-fiction stories. From heart-warming memories of childhood, to humorous perspectives on aging and inspiring stories of survival to hilariously disastrous social encounters, this non-fiction anthology has it all! It features thirty-plus stories exploring the challenges, triumphs, and humor of life as seen through the eyes and experienced in the hearts of more than a dozen writers.

Please spread the word that this long-awaited book is now available.

Thank you to everyone who helped to turn this dream into a reality.”

A peek:

15458415396_f71 vignette

I’ll hope you’ll visit his blog and Amazon, too  A direct link to Amazon is here.

Thank you, Russ, for the opportunity!

EBOLA in America


Mustang.Koji:

Hmmm…. Do you believe what your government tells you?

Originally posted on A Montpelier View:

Cemetary 001The case involves an unnamed individual, a non-US citizen who flew to the USA from Liberia to visit his family. After being in the US for a few days, he began feeling sick and went to a local hospital for medical attention. They gave him two aspirins, told him to drink plenty of fluids, get plenty of sleep, and then see if that would help relieve his suffering. It did not.

This is significant because, at the time this individual went to the hospital for attention, he was already experiencing symptoms; it is during the symptomatic period where individuals become most dangerous for the spread of the disease. Of course, the CDC did admit that while there may be a few more EBOLA cases resulting from the sloppy way Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital handled this case, there is no need for anyone to worry about this disease.

Right —but of…

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