Sgt Claus is a reimagining of the legend of Santa Claus. Hooah!!!
(1)
Isn’t it amazing if you post something gossipy, angry, controversial, political, religious, scandalous or risqué people will read and comment?
You post something truthful, challenging, poignant, convicting, inspiring or edifying you get zip! Crickets. Silence. Nada!
You post scripture you’re a Pharisee. You post truth you’re judging. You try to encourage and you’re meddling.
Incredible.
Ok….crickets on chapter 1 of the Sgt Claus book.
Sgt Claus: A Reimagining of the Legend of Santa Claus
Chapter 1
Prologue: The Gloves
AIRBORNE!
It was a cold winter afternoon a week from Christmas when Billy decided to have a workout at the Air Force Base gym. Since retiring from the Army a few years ago Billy still loved PT (physical training) and staying in shape. At over forty years old, his retired paratrooper body could still bench press over 300 pounds. He was still a fit, rugged looking warrior.
As Billy is leaving the locker room, he notices a pair of Nomex aviation gloves lying on the bench. He gives them a double take and moves on. After all he had last minute Christmas shopping to do and he had to get his workout in.
Nomex gloves are the light green leather/cloth mix gloves that fighter pilots, loadmasters, and yes even Army jumpmasters wear while doing their mission. These gloves were made even more popular when Delta Force and Navy SEAL operators started wearing them while conducting raids and other direct action missions in Iraq and Afghanistan. With their dexterity, durability, and flame retardant properties, these gloves are the holy grail of paratroopers and special operators the world over.
2 hours later after lifting weights hard and running sprints Billy decides to hit the showers. As he is getting undressed to enter the showers he notices the pair of nomex aviation gloves is still lying on the bench.
Billy peeks inside the gloves to see if they are marked with someone’s name. No name in them he surmises and they are size 12…..HIS SIZE! He looks both ways and sees no one in the locker room, or the whole gym for that matter, but him. He drops the gloves into his gym bag and after his shower heads for his car.
Once in his car he takes out the gloves to examine them. They look nearly brand new, in a way people call “gently used.” He slips the gloves on….perfect fit. He looks at his hands to admire the fit of his new found prize when……BAM! A Rush of adrenalin hits him in the head so hard it makes him dizzy.
In a millisecond his car is gone! And so is he! He looks up and sees he is standing in the back of a military cargo airplane. As he looks out into the cabin he sees a familiar scene. A row of Army paratroopers seated in jump seats facing each other down the left side of the airplane! “What’s happening? Where am I?” He ponders.
He looks down at his feet and sees he is wearing tan Army desert boots and fatigues. As he scans up his body he realizes that he has not only the boots and fatigues on, but he is wearing a main parachute, reserve parachute, helmet, M1950 weapons case, and rucksack hanging from D-rings on the harness, and all the equipment required for……A COMBAT EQUIPMENT PARACHUTE JUMP! WOW!
“OH my God! What’s happening?” he thinks. But in his he mind he already grasps what has happened. He looks across the airplane and sees another guy (a sergeant) dressed in the same attire with the same gear. He surmises that the fellow standing on the right row of jumpers must be, if memory serves, the assistant jumpmaster. So if that guy is the assistant, where is the primary (left door) jumpmaster?
The assistant jumpmaster gives him a knowing nod and reality sets in…..Billy IS the primary jumpmaster! He thinks “okay okay don’t panic, it’s been several years, but try and remember, what I do next?” “What’s my next move?” Billy hadn’t jumped from a plane in about ten years, much less been the jumpmaster, so he was frantic. All of sudden, it was like he had done this only yesterday.
Billy unhooked the static line snap hook from the carrying handle of his reserve parachute, hooked it to the heavy anchor line cable which ran the length of the C-130 Hercules aircraft and pulled down hard on the static line snap hook until it locked. He inserted the safety wire and made a loop in the static line, “what did they used to call that loop?” he thought. “Oh yah a bight!” he remembered.
He took the bight (looped static line) and handed it to the soldier directly behind him wearing a special freefall parachute. “SAFETY CONTROL MY STAIC LINE!” he shouted to the safety. The safety replied “GO IT!” Billy turned back around and with recollection began to shout the following:
GET READY!
(Jumpers echo back GET READY!)
OUTBOARD PERSONNEL STAND UP!
(Jumpers echo back OUTBOARD PERSONNEL STAND UP!)
INBOARD PERSONNEL STAND UP!
(Jumpers continuing to echo back all the commands as they execute the movement.)
HOOK UP!
(jumpers hook up to the anchor line cable)
CHECK STATIC LINES!
(jumpers check their own and their buddy’s static line)
CHECK EQUIPMENT!
(jumpers make one final check of their gear)
SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK!!!
(all jumpers starting from the from the back of the row moving toward the paratroop door tap the jumper in front of them and sounding off with “OK!”
The first jumper points at Billy and shouts “ALL OK JUMPMASTER!”
Suddenly a loud deafening rushing noise enters the aircraft as the doors are slid open and locked. Billy looks at the red light now illuminated on the open paratroop door, grasps the frame of the door kicks both door down-locks and stomps the platform like he had done a hundred times before. He leans his torso out to take a look. He wonders where this jump is. What part of the world is it in? Will he recognize the terrain?
As he gazes out the door over the countryside over 1000 feet down he sees something he recognizes. “Could it be?” He thinks. He strains to see, yes! There it is! A small pond on the left, It’s the one minute reference point for…..Sicily Drop Zone, Fort Bragg, North Carolina! How long had it been? But his memory for this, like the jump commands were fresh as if jumpmaster school had been yesterday.
He pulls himself back in and sees the Air Force loadmaster hold up one finger. Billy holds up one finger and shouts to the jumpers “ONE MINUTE!” They echo the command. He looks ahead of the aircraft and sees it. Manchester Road! He’s got maybe 20 seconds before the green light signaling the exit. This is the point he puts the first jumper in the door. He commands “STAND BY!” and takes control of his own static line back from the safety.
The number one jumper hands his static line to the safety and takes his position near the paratroop door. The red light suddenly changes from red to green like an airborne traffic light. He taps the jumper and yells “GREEN LIGHT GO!”
The jumper walks off the platform. After him the jumpers continue to exit one second after the other out both doors. Finally the last jumper exits. Billy checks the glowing green light, hands his static line to the safety and exits the aircraft…..
He begins to count……ONE THOUSAND, TWO THOUSAND, THREE THOUS.UUUURRRGH! His main parachute opens with a force so hard he remembers why it’s called “the opening shock.”
He steers away from other jumpers by pulling on the parachute risers different directions. He’s falling steady now. He can see the ground now. “Oh yah”, he thinks, “I got something I need to do!” He pulls the handle on the single point release and the rucksack lowers 20 feet below him. He puts his feet and knees together and remembers how to prepare to land. He watched the horizon, not the ground and waits for the impact. Easy, easy does it…..
Boom! Hit and roll! Its over! All of sudden he feels himself being pulled head first forward. He’s speeding up! Ouch this is starting to hurt! He’s getting dragged! What should he do? How does he stop it? He remembers and reaches up and disconnects the canopy release assembly from the harness. The parachute comes free and he is no longer getting dragged.
He jumps up from the ground pulls off the gloves…..and all of a sudden, he’s back in his car again! “Where am I?” He thinks. He looks around and realizes he is still in the gym parking lot. He slaps the car in drive and pulls away. Safely on the road, he rolls down his window and throws the gloves out on the highway! He knows a good soldier should never litter, but WOW!
Homeless Hero
It was a cold morning as Jake Johnson walked along the lonely street. He was making his usual rounds, talking to people, panhandling for spare change, looking for anything he could put in his shopping cart for later use. Its seven days until Christmas and he’d like to buy his less fortunate friends a few creature comforts before Christmas Eve.
He had already made five dollars in change, found a warmer coat in a dumpster, and now he was about to score some day old doughnuts at a local bakery, when he saw something on the ground. Did his eyes deceive him, or were those a pair of those military aviation gloves he had seen guys wearing in the service in Special Forces decades ago? He remembered how cool they looked, as well as how warm they kept your hands when you had nothing else.
He picked up the gently used gloves and pushed his cart around the corner, then he saw them….the neighborhood thugs! They were standing in the alley, two of them, facing a very attractive woman who looked terrified. One man had her grasped by her coat while the other man was groping at her. She was crying and asking them to stop. Jake was witnessing what was about to be a violent assault.
He decided it wasn’t any of his business and put the gloves on his cold hands. Suddenly the woman shouted “HEY MISTER! CALL FOR HELP! THEY’RE HURTING ME!”
Before he could resist the temptation he calls out to them “LET HER GO! YOU STINKIN PUNKS!” Oh my, had he just really done that? Had he really really done that? The thug holding her coat yells “GET OUTTA HERE OLD MAN! YOU DON’T WANT NONE OF THIS!”
Jake, over fifty years old, runs towards the man groping the woman. He sends a kick into the man’s ribs that doubles him over. He strikes the bent over man in the side of the neck, rendering him unconscious. The man holding the woman turns toward Jake and swings a punch at his face; Jake catches his punching arm and snaps it at the elbow. The man screams out in pain from his badly broken arm. The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small semiautomatic pistol. Jake catches the hand, plucks the weapon out of it, and breaks that arm too. He fires a kick at the man’s head that sends him crashing to the ground unconscious. He points the weapon at the remaining men as he surveys the damage he just caused.
He tells the woman, “you’re okay now, you’re safe!” the woman looks at Jake’s dirty clothes and runs off screaming. Jakes thinks to himself “that’s gratitude for you….at least she could have given me some spare change”……BOOM! His head starts spinning! He’s dizzy with a sudden rush of adrenaline in his head.
Suddenly the street in spinning…..changing. He looks around and he’s no longer in the city. He’s somewhere else. He’s somewhere he doesn’t recognize. He looks around and there standing next to him is a soldier in military fatigues, helmet, body armor, boots, M4 rifle, and……Nomex gloves just like his.
It had been years since Jake served. How long had it actually been? Maybe 20? The uniforms were different, but somehow he knew the function and purpose of each piece of equipment. He looked closer at the soldier’s uniform standing next to him. Staff sergeant! That’s right, the guy is a staff sergeant! He remembered. He read the soldiers name tape; it said “Williams.” As he looked at the unit shoulder patch affixed to the soldier’s uniform with Velcro, he saw the shape of an arrowhead. The arrowhead had a sword inside it with three lightning bolts. The arrow head had a tab above it that read “AIRBORNE”. A tab above that read “SPECIAL FORCES.”
He recognized the patch; he had worn it many times years ago, Special Forces! As he looked down he realized he was wearing the same uniform with the very same patch and tabs. The M4 rifle he held in his hands was foreign to him for a second, but somehow he instinctively knew every inch of it and how it worked as if someone had downloaded knowledge into his brain. The weapon had optics and infrared capability. It had a 4 inch suppressor on the end of the barrel. This weapon was a tactical work of art.
“Sergeant Johnson, are you alright?” The young staff sergeant asked. “Am I alright?” Jake thought, “You have no idea,” he thought to himself. Actually Jake had no idea either. He nodded in the affirmative that he was okay and two started to walk down the dusty street of what looked like a Middle Eastern village. They rounded a corner and there were ten other men there kneeling in a semicircle. An older man, who appeared to be in charge asked “did you two wild men find anything?” The young staff sergeant replied “No Top, I didn’t see anyone looking like Al Sakowi, in fact I didn’t see any Taliban or any men of military age who might be Taliban.”
“He called the older guy ‘TOP”, so he must be their first sergeant or something like that” Jake thought. Where was he? What is all this? He knelt down next to a puddle and gazed at the reflection in the pool of water. Did his eyes deceive him? Who was that man looking back at him? It wasn’t his fifty plus year old face he was looking at, NO! It was the face of a 28 year old! He hadn’t seen that face in many many years.
“Alright men,” the older Master Sergeant began, “our mission on this beautiful Christmas eve is to es**rt the Nuns, orphans and refugees out of this village (pointing to Imam Rabat in Helmand Province on the map, get them to the LZ (landing zone) for pick up by the helo and transport them to their new home.” “Are there any questions?” The Master Sergeant asked. “Alright let’s move!” He ordered.
Jake and the other men moved in a single file line down the street. The sun was down and the moon was coming out. Jake reached up and slid down his night vision goggles, called NODs, down to his eyes and flicked the switch. They came on and showed everything he saw in a light green glow. He didn’t know how he knew how to use them, but he just did. This surprised him. It was that way with all the weapons and equipment, when he needed to use it, he instinctively knew how.
They moved slowly down the street until they reached a building with a sign in a strange language. He read the sign which said “St Jude Orphanage and School” in the Afghan Pashtu language and in English. Again he didn’t know how he knew Pashtu, he just did. St. Jude was the patron saint of lost causes; that certainly fit.
Several of them got in a small semicircle perimeter as about five of them cautiously entered the building. Jake and the young Staff Sergeant Williams were among the ones who made the perimeter. Suddenly the ground next to Jake erupted in gunfire. “Take cover!” Top yelled! They scurried behind cover and started to fire back in the direction of the gunfire. A loud chaotic firefight began. Bullets were whizzing and striking all around.
Top is talking into his headset, Jake can hear the conversation is his own headset. “I see the package, LET’S MOVE!” the voice in the headset shouted. Top Yelled at the five men to “PEEL OFF AND MOVE OUT!” Each man tapped the shoulder of the guy next to him before running around the back of the building one at a time. Finally all the men were in the back of the building behind the cover of a mud wall next to a tree line in a semicircle again.
Five women in black clothing were cowered down behind a mud wall trying to hide from the furious gunfire. The team insured the women were safe and uninjured.
There was a captain talking into his headset, but again Jake could hear what he said “We have the package, request extraction at LZ Golf.” The voice at the other end responded that it would be 10 mikes, military speak for 10 minutes Jake remembered.
As he looked behind him inside the perimeter, he saw five women dressed in black with head coverings. This must be the “package” they spoke of. These women were catholic nuns from an NGO (non-government organization) who had started a school to teach young orphans to read and write. The Taliban commander nearby had heard about it and several of the boys, girls and women were never seen again. The chain of command had decided to relocate these women to a safer area until the threat could be dealt with. A Special Forces team that was working with the local tribal elders was sent in to get the women. The school had been mortared that day and attacked by Taliban fighters. There were no more refugees or children. The school was completely wiped out.
Suddenly Jake heard the sound of helicopter rotor blades. A Marine Corps CH-46 Sea Knight came flying over the horizon and set down about 50 yards away. The captain looks at the old master sergeant and says “Top let’s move!” Jake and the others break for the aircraft in a tactical rush. As they are moving shots ring out! Staff Sergeant Williams is hit. Jake says “Will are you okay?” “He got me in the ribs between my armor plates!” Williams shouts. “What a way to celebrate Christmas day!” Williams laments.
Jake picks up Williams in a fireman’s carry and begins running toward the landed helicopter. He gets him to the ramp and sets him down so the medic can begin working on him. Jake runs back and carry two more soldiers wounded by the sniper back to the helicopter. Finally when everyone is aboard, the helicopter lifts off and gets altitude. Once in flight Jake pulls off the gloves that have been stained in blood and lays them down next to his gear.
Suddenly his head starts spinning like the rotors of the helicopter. Jake is sitting in the alley, the blue lights of a police car are spinning. A police officer is taking a statement from the attractive woman who is saying “…..and if it hadn’t been for that brave man there, those men might have r***d and killed me!” Jake stands up and walks to a nearby dumpster where he deposits the Nomex gloves. As he looks down, the blood stains on the gloves vanish. He mutters, “Next time I’ll get my gloves from the homeless shelter.”
Close Air Support
It was a cold Christmas eve morning in the city. There was frost on the streets in the early morning hours. Sully Kowalski was driving his garbage truck like he did day in and day out for 20 years. He’d left his supply clerk job in the Air Force after Desert Storm, got a job with the Sanitation Department, settled down, married his high school sweetheart and started a family.
So today on this cold January morning he was making his rounds. He would pull up to a dumpster, then use the big hydraulic hooks on the front of the truck to lift the container over the truck and dump it in the big hopper so the truck’s compacter could crush it. He earned twenty dollars an hour. He was by no means rich, but it was a good living. And he earned a lot of overtime. He’s owned his own home and put two kids through college, so he couldn’t complain. And who would listen if he did complain?
As he’s pulling up to the dumpster in a back alley, something on the top of the dumpster near the lid catches his eye. He rarely gets out of his truck, but today he decides to investigate. He walks up to the dumpster and immediately recognizes the object. It’s a pair of Air Force issue Nomex gloves, just like the ones pilots, air crew, and even recently, Navy SEALs are wearing.
He remembered these gloves because he used to issue these to the pilots in his squadron, the 228th Tactical Support Squadron. He was the supply clerk in that squadron that had the nickname…..”oh what was it?” he thought. “Oh yes, Dragons, that’s right. Their motto was ‘We bring the fire!” he remembered.
He wanted to be a pilot when he was a kid, but his bad vision, lack of coordination and education disqualified him. “Oh well people like him don’t get to be pilots,” He rationalized. He went into the logistics field and did great. Three Air Force Commendation medals in four years….Not bad! After he retired from the Air Force he went to work for sanitation and had been there ever since.
He picked up the gloves that look almost new and placed them in his coat pocket. As he starts to drive away, he stops and reaches into the pocket and pulls out his new prize. He remembers these. They were not super warm, but you could do anything in them; write, grab objects, and yes, even fly an airplane. He puts the gloves on….size 12, perfect fiiiiiiiiiiittttt!!! BOOM!
Sully get dizzy to the point of almost nausea as the garbage truck starts to spin clockwise, slow at first, but picking up speed. Soon the truck is spinning in a blur like a centrifuge and Sully fears he will soon lose his breakfast! Suddenly the truck stops spinning abruptly, but it’s not motionless. It’s in the air about 1500 feet above the ground.
“Where am I?” He thinks. He looks around the cab of the truck, but it’s not the cab of a truck anymore! He looks out the window to get his bearings and sees a short airplane wing out the window? “Whaaaaa?” He looks back over his shoulder and sees a giant jet turbine! He looks down at his legs and sees the crisp desert tan color flight suit he was now wearing. “How is this possible?” He thinks.
Soon he hears the sound of a familiar voice in the headphones of the pilot helmet he’s wearing, “Dragon-5, this is Dragon X-Ray, SITREP? Over” He knows they are calling the 228th executive officer’s call sign, but no one is answering. He remembers the commander’s call sign is Dragon-6, and the XO (executive officer) is Dragon-5.
They call again “Dragon-5, this is Dragon X-Ray, request SITREP! Over!” He looks at the floor of the airplane that he is obviously flying and sees a green aircrew bag with a name on it. It reads “MAJ Sullivan “SULLY” Kowalski, Dragon-5.” “OH MYGOD! I AM DRAGON-5!” He screams. This cannot be happening, what is going on? Is this a dream?
He instinctively keys the radio and replies “Dragon X-Ray, this is Dragon-5 I’m just past checkpoint 2, proceeding to checkpoint 3, weapons free over.” “This is Dragon X-Ray proceed to check point 3 and advise when on station over.” “Roger out,” he replied. How did he know where checkpoint 3 was? How did he know the mission? And how in the heck is he flying an Air Force A-10 close air support jet fighter plane?
He flies several more miles when he sees checkpoint 3, a small village in Helmond Province, Afghanistan. Wait! How did he know that? But somehow he instinctively seems to know everything precisely when he needs to know it. The plane, the radio, even the mission brief was all inside his head, but how? As he gets a visual on checkpoint 3, the radio erupts with traffic. “Dragon-5, this is Bulldog-6, we are in contact! Request CAS on grid AF55678342! OVER!” the man on the ground is almost shouting into the microphone.
Sully responds “Roger! You’ll have it in one mike!” The mission was close air support on a company of Marines who were supporting a Special Forces team who were evacuating the staff of an Afghan women’s school. The Special Forces guys had got the Afghan women out and been extracted, but the Marines providing over watch had come under fire by a company sized unit of Taliban with snipers, mortars, and RPG-7 launchers. And the Taliban had them pinned down in the village with high ground advantage.
The first V-22 Osprey aircraft that attempted extraction had come under fire, been hit, and almost shot down. So they needed close air support to bombard the bad guys, hopefully neutralize them, until the Marines could be extracted. Sully had the whole scenario locked inside his head like a computer, like he had been doing this for years.
Sully made his first pass with 30 millimeter machine guns. He strafed the ridgeline hitting several concealed positions and killing several Taliban fighters. On his next pass he fires a missile into a cave that causes a devastating explosion, must have been ammo storage. Finally on his third pass the Taliban sniper positions as well as the heavy machine gun and mortar positions fall silent.
The radio comes to life again, “Dragon-5, this is Bulldog-6, targets destroyed, thank you much over!” Sully calls back “This is Dragon-5, no prob!” SWOOOOOOOOOSH! BOOM! What was that? He looks back and sees his tail has been hit, probably by an RPG-7 rocket propelled gr***de and he is spinning out of control! “Oh my God what do I do?” he thinks. He takes a deep breath grabs the ejection handle, pulls it, crosses his arms across his chest, BOOM! He goes flying out of the cockpit in a ball of fire blowing out of the bottom of his seat.
Soon he sees the fluffy plume of a good parachute above his head. He slowly descends towards the ground. He hits, rolls, pulls his pistol out of the holster and gets out of the parachute harness. Sully looks around while kneeling on one knee. He checks himself, and except for being a bit rattled by the parachute landing, he is fine.
Soon Captain Wilson, also known as Bulldog-6 walks up with several Marines and his company first sergeant. “We saw those bastards shoot your plane down, are you okay sir?” “Sir? why was he calling me sir?” Sully thought. The Captain tries again “Major Kowalski, are you alright sir?” “Oh Major Kowalski, that’s me!” he thinks. “Yes I’m fine Captain,” Sully replies.
A young Marine sergeant extends his hand that contains a canteen and says “Would you like some water sir?” Sully takes it and gulps it down. The Captain says “Sir you sure saved our hides, we were terribly outgunned. They had mortars and snipers.” The Marine sergeant hands Sully a Meal-Ready-to-Eat (MRE) cake. Sully takes off his gloves and starts to unwrap it when……..BOOM! He’s in the spinning garbage truck again!
The truck slows down its spin and abruptly stops. He’s back in the alley with the dumpster, inside his old garbage truck again. He pulls into the alley and drives fast down the street. As he’s passing a playground, he throws the gloves out the window. As a sanitation worker, he knows he shouldn’t litter, but……”Oh never mind,” He thinks as the gloves go flying and land by a walking trail.
So Others May Live
A young mother is pushing a baby stroller and sees a pair of green nomex the gloves and picks them up. These were the gloves like the pilots wore when she was in the Marine Corps.
Alexandra Morgan had been out of the Marines about 3 years. Allie, as her friends called her, left the Marines to start a family with James her husband, also a Marine. They settled in San Diego because it was nice and warm, and because that’s where she and her husband were stationed when she got out. She had been an aircraft sheet metal technician, and her husband a helicopter crew chief.
She had enjoyed the military, and even missed it sometimes. But the military is not a place to be a mommy she thought. So she took her GI bill and was finishing college online. She was taking a break from class work by taking little Jennie on a stroll through the park.
She looked down at the gloves and remembered how awesome they were. They were warm, flame resistant, and you could write with a pen while wearing them. She placed the gloves on her hands and wiggled her fingers. Perfect fiiiiiiiiiiiiiittt! The world started spinning.
When the world stopped spinning she realized she was on the ramp of a Marine CH-46 Sea Knight helicopter. She was talking to an Army Special Forces guy loading another wounded soldier onto the helicopter. She motioned for the others to rake seats along the outer wall of the aircraft.
She looked down at her clothing and saw that she was wearing the flight suit and helmet of a helicopter crew chief. On her chest was an aircrew wings insignia and a naval search and rescue swimmer badge “Is this possible? I was a sheet metal tech, how am I now a crew chief?” “How do I know so much about this particular aircraft? How am I doing this job?” It was like all the information she needed was suddenly made available to her brain whenever she needed it. Utterly crazy!
A sound over her helmet headset asked “How much longer sergeant?” “No more than 2 mikes was her reply.” Soon the aircraft was airborne again. She keyed her head set and stated “Dragon X-Ray this is Bull Dog 17, package secure, all pax in board and returning to FOB, OVER!” “This is Dragon X-Ray, great work! ROGER OUT!”
As Sergeant Morgan looked down the cargo area her eyes met the gaze of Staff Sergeant Jason Williams, the soldier who was shot in the ribs. She noticed he the “thousand mile stare” that combat soldiers who have seen a lot of action display. “This guy has a long road back,” she thought to herself. She had no idea…
The legend of Santa Claus has been told to generation after generation. The exploits and adventures of Saint Nicholas has been shared the world over for a thousand years. This story is no different. It will be cherished for decades in the hearts of….those who believe.
OK, my book has been through an author peer review and he suggested that I start posting chapters on my social media to see what kind of interest or response I get. So today I will post my introduction and possibly a chapter to my book.
The sermon this weekend on the Tongue and our words was very challenging, encouraging, and convicting. It’s so important that we speak kindly and gently to people. I see that our words can come to rest like a boulder rolling down a hill. I want my words to heal not hurt.
Outside 53 degrees with my Nespresso….aaaaahhh yes.
Rockin the handlebar tonight!
Winter wonderland going up! Yes it’s early. Yes it’s crazy. But I’m Santa! Let’s do this!!!
Abbey road…
Sgt Claus World Tour Dec 2024
My article for Rally Point magazine I wrote in 2016. It’s a comparison of Army vs. Marine recruit training. It’s more true today than then! God help us!!!
Today, I may make some people mad. But what I want to address is vitally important. I have been a drill instructor in a prison boot camp (an adult penitentiary down South) for over six years now. We train and rehabilitate non-violent offenders using a 105-day military style boot camp. Before that, I...
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Going to pass out candy while I’m running errands today. If you’re a photographer and you would like to use me for Christmas pictures DM me today, please. 
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