Veterans Day Remembered: Forced Fun

(Presented as a message sermon at the First United Methodist Church of Port Jefferson, Long Island, New York, Sunday, November 11, 2018 by Montgomery J. Granger, Major, US Army, Retired. Video: https://www.facebook.com/pjfumc/videos/502873243555742/ Start at about 19:20)

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Good morning!

Happy Veterans Day!

Would all the Veterans here today please stand? Thank you for your service and Welcome Home!

Let’s please remember, Memorial Day is for remembering those who either gave their lives in battle or who have otherwise passed on. Veterans Day, today, started 100 years ago, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, 1918, and known as Armistice Day at the end of World War I, is to show appreciation for those served and who are still with us.

I would also like to remember Army Veteran Shirley Leonard, and my good friend PFC Wayne F. Hurley.

I am a former US Army Medical Service Officer who started as a combat medic, and then after five years as an enlisted soldier went to Officer Candidate School and then served 17 more years as a Medical Service Officer, the last 9 of which were with a Military Police (Enemy Prisoner of War) Brigade Liaison Detachment, whose job it was to take care of bad guys, which we did with Christian spirit and professional acumen, contrary to what you may have heard from the mainstream media. After 9/11, from February to June, 2002, I served at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, as the ranking US Army Medical Department officer with the Joint Detainee Operations Group, Joint Task Force 160, in charge of coordinating medical, preventive medical and environmental services for detainees and the guard force at Gitmo. I served again from February to June 2003, at Fort Dix, New Jersey, and then again for 14 months, from October 2004 to December 2005 for a tour to Iraq, where again I found myself coordinating services for detention operations there, in Baghdad, at Camp Victory, in Abu Ghraib (after the scandal there, my unit was sent to help clean it up), in Al Basra, at Camp Bucca, and in Ashraf, at Forward Operating Base Spartan.

In deference to my father-in-law, a Korean War veteran with the Air Force, and who is at home today dealing with COPD, among other things, he would want to know how long my message was going to be. 15 minutes Bob, and you can start timing me now!

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Fair warning, this is a participation message, and may have some repeat after me moments.

Forced Fun

Forced fun is when you are ordered to do something that if you weren’t ordered to do it you probably wouldn’t do it.

November, 2008, a month before I retired from the Army after 22 years of service, including nearly 2 ½ years of deployments since 9/11/2001, and I had never participated in a parade. This time there was no escape.

Like a Commander’s Ball, no one could get out of it. With a wink and a nod the command had made it abundantly clear that from the very top general in the region, “everyone” would participate in the annual Veterans Day parade in New York City.

The uniform of the day would be the battle dress uniform, at this time it was the pixeled pattern we called the Lego pattern of light green and tan. It would be cool, but according to the powers that be, not cold, so no field jackets or anything worn on the outside of the uniform. You could however put layers on underneath and wear gloves. But if one person wore gloves, everyone had to wear gloves. If one person forgot their gloves no one could wear gloves.

Head gear would be the black beret; in other words, cold ears.

With temperatures in the 40’s in the morning prior to the march we would be shivering a bit.

There’s a lot of “hurry up and wait” in the military. This was no exception. The parade would start at 11:15, at around 26th Street and 5th Avenue, and then conclude at 46th Street, a distance of a little over a mile.

Report time? Zero 8:30, or 8:30 a.m. for you civilians.

“Don’t complain,” I told a colleague, “we’re getting paid and we’re not getting shot at.”

“Hooah!” Came the answer. Hooah! Is Army speak for just about anything except “No.”

For example, “How are you?” Hooah! “How’s the chow?” Hooah! “Did you get the beans and bullets?” Hooah! “Good morning,” Hooah! Question: Hooah? Answer: Hooah!.

I know you want to, so go ahead and try it one time: Hooah? (Audience: Hooah!)

So, from now on, when you hear my question, Hooah? You may answer back, “Hooah!” It will let me know your still with me. Hooah?

That’s the Army for you, simple and direct, efficient and effective. No wasted words or energy.

“Conserve the Fighting Strength” was the Medical Service Corps motto, and we put that to work every day.

I remember at the parade that not everyone had brought their gloves. Bad news. Good news: we could wear our gloves if we brought ‘em BEFORE the parade started. We could also go, a few at a time, to local coffee shops or kiosks and get coffee. That helped.

When it was time to march a strange feeling of nervousness grew amongst us. Some had been in parades before and told those of us who hadn’t that it was no big deal. Just look straight ahead and march. We would be singing cadence, so the march will go by quickly, and before you know it it will be over.

We heard drums and a band, and we saw costumed high school students with batons and flags and instruments. Giggling girls and serious boys, scrambling to form up.

We had been standing in formation for over two hours. Army people can never just stand around in a blob, looks bad don’t you know? And when we stand in formation we always keep one foot anchored to the ground in line so that if need be, in an instant we can form up and look like perfect little soldiers.

The commands were given, “Group, at-TEN-SHUN! Right, FACE. Forward . . . MARCH!” And off we went, left foot first then right. “Left . . . Left . . . Left, Right, Left.”

The cadence caller warmed up and then began to sing. When you sing in the Army it’s more like military rap. Most guys can’t carry a tune, so the caller usually just sticks to monotone and simple words:

“One, two, three, four,” was the call, and the reply, from almost all veterans and folks who’d been in 10, 20 or 30 years, was “You can’t count to five!”

And you can imagine the echo amongst the tall buildings coming from hundreds of soldiers.

“One, two, three four,” “Can’t count to save your life!”

So you get the idea, when cadence is called, the caller sings and the group repeats. So, let’s try that.

“Here we go again (Audience Repeats), same old stuff again (AR), marchin’ down the avenue (AR), one more mile and we’ll be through (AR). I’ll be glad and so will you!” (AR) Excellent! Easy, isn’t it? You could all be soldiers! Hooah!

On we went, singing our souls out, loving the tremendous echo we were sure traveled all the way down to the Canyon of Heroes in Lower Manhattan.

We stopped and started with those ahead of us, never longer than a minute or two. It seemed that whenever we got into a rhythm we’d have to stop.

Police stood at intersections, intermittently allowing foot and vehicle traffic to sever the parade stream, and then as quickly let it flow again.

Between 26th and 34th streets there seemed to be a decent crowd of people watching with interest and clapping from the sidewalk. That gave us a warm good feeling inside, despite the chill. There they were, perfect strangers, standing, smiling, clapping and waving.

“It’s great to be an American,” I thought. Hooah?

As we moved further uptown, the crowds thinned and then got sparse, as the band up ahead moved off at the end of the route, by the time we reached the end, only passersby were left, walking and going about their business, not seeing a mass of hundreds of uniformed soldiers marching, and then dispersing.

My wife and family were waiting for me at the end, and we smiled and hugged.

We all came to see Daddy in the parade, and to attend a free showing of the Rockette’s Christmas Spectacular, at Radio City Music Hall, sponsored by the United Service Organization or USO.

Walking to the theater, my wife told me how shocked she was that when we, the soldiers got to the end no one but them and other families were clapping. In fact, she said, one woman passerby came up to her and asked what was going on. “It’s a parade,” she said to the woman. “It’s Veterans Day.” “Oh,” the woman said, and then moved along.

It’s Veterans Day.

In line for the show, which stretched around the block into Rockerfeller Center, there were many uniformed folks all around, from all branches of service.

I actually ran into an Army chaplain I had known from my service in Iraq. We were both very surprised to see each other, as the Chaplain was from Atlanta, Georgia, but had come north to visit family who had obtained tickets for the show.

The Chaplain and I had served together at Forward Operating Base (or “FOB”) Spartan – “Come home with your shield or on it!” Was the motto, a nod to the ancient warrior class of Greek Spartans. The metaphor was honor. Come back with your honor or don’t come back alive. Hooah?

These were serious dudes we served with. The FOB, a security and detention operation of Active Duty Military Police, had the reputation for being the most disciplined FOB of any American outpost in Iraq. And it was so.

Strict Army discipline was observed. Attention to detail was the order of the day. Paying attention to detail in a war zone saves lives. Hooah?

The FOB was so, well, Spartan, that we had to have daily LOG runs, or logistical convoys for supplies, such as beans, bullets and water. Twice a week we made two trips a day. The spring and summer of 2005 were perhaps the most deadly up to that point in Iraq.

Insurgents were pushing in places like Falluja, Baquba, and the Airport Road in Baghdad. IED’s, or Improvised Explosive Devices were common, sometimes hidden inside the dead carcasses of large animals left roadside, frequently stopping log convoys such as those to and from FOB Spartan.

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I was on convoys to and from our log base once or twice per week to coordinate medical, preventive medical and environmental services for FOB Spartan.

The log base was Camp Anaconda, about an hour from our FOB and over the Tigress river, in the land of the birthplace of civilization and the stories of Babylon, and the Garden of Eden.

Compared to FOB Spartan, Anaconda had civilization. Swimming pool, Movie Theater, mall, barber shop and fast food. It was an oasis.

I remember entering the MWR (Morale Welfare and Recreation hall) there for the first time.

Lots of board games, video games, ping-pong, magazines, TV, DVD check out, popcorn machine and Movie Theater.

There were no tickets, and no charge for anything.

Army soldiers and Marines wandered inside, dusty, sweaty and tired. And some with that look in their eyes, the look coined in WWII as the Thousand Yard Stare. The person was there, but not there.

When I entered the movie theater inside the MWR, a large room really, inside the airplane hanger-sized building, it was pitch black, between scenes in a movie. When the flicker of the film returned it lighted the faces of dozens of soiled, exhausted men, almost every one of them . . . fast asleep.

The convoys certainly took it out of you, whether an 18 hour schlep to Al Basra to inspect a detention facility at Camp Bucca, or an hour long ride to and from Anaconda the stress of not wanting to “Get blowed up,” took all of your energy. Hooah?

The stress was so intense that it was common for drivers and soldiers to fall asleep at the wheel once inside the wire and before parking the vehicles. Energy drinks such as Red Bull were encouraged.

***

The Chaplain and I hugged, and asked about family and introduced everybody to each other. It was really great to see her.

She was a staple at FOB Spartan, offering Bible study, prayer groups and two Protestant services on Sundays, one traditional and one contemporary.

I was more familiar with the traditional services, so I attended those at first, and then I got curious about the contemporary services, which ended up reminding me more of my mega church experiences as a young Christian teen growing up in Southern California.

I’ll never forget one Sunday when the Chaplain invited everyone to a baptism.

She had convinced a visiting group of combat engineers to dig a hole, about four feet, by four feet, by four feet, lined it with a tarp, and then filled it with water. She had ministered to some of the Pakistani cooks at the FOB dining facility, and several wanted to convert to Christianity! Now that’s doing God’s work! Hooah?

Did someone say “Crusade?”

No, we did not, but Christian soldiers were there to accomplish a mission, and even created one there in the arid land where God put the first of us.

Beside the door to the tent/chapel was a wooden sign with the 91st Psalm painted on it. Many of us there had the 91st Psalm, what we called the Psalm of protection, printed on camouflaged scarves we kept with us on convoys.

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That worked for me.

Prayer also worked. Hooah?

I’d like to thank the Worship Committee again for asking me to share my thoughts with you this Veterans Day Sunday.

If any of you know a veteran, ask them about their favorite Veterans Day, or their most memorable. If they can’t think of one, help make a memorable one for them.

It’s OK to ask us about our service. It shows interest and appreciation, and it makes us feel . . . normal. Many of us have some fond remembrances and some funny stories. Yes, there were some scary parts, but talking about it helps us make connections that are important, especially with family and loved ones.

I hope this was better than forced fun for you, and that through my stories you’re able to see veterans as normal people, and not just as a group of folks who are mysterious or scary.

We are just like you in most ways. And one thing many veterans have in common is the belief that every day is truly a blessing. That God’s gifts are sweeter and more vivid in the light of day after service.

What a blessing it is to be safe, secure and not worrying about getting “blowed up.” Hooah?

Thank you!

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(Major Granger is the author of “Saving Grace at Guantanamo Bay: A Memoir of a Citizen Warrior” http://sbprabooks.com/montgomeryjgranger/ )

Fall

Sugar Maple

The sugar maples caught fire this week

Spewing leafy flame about the yard

Burning bushes are lit

Searing fence lines and fields

Crisper air has bit my nose

And colder winds through the forest blow

Evergreens are standing stiffer

Shivering silently in the new winter breeze

Birds tweet and soar

Searching now for winter homes

Children run, house-to-house

Seeking tricks or treats

Pixies, witches, monsters and heroes

Flit, fly, hobble and sprint

Bright shining sun

Warms less than just a week ago

But feels good upon my naked face

Eyes closed and full of hopeful thoughts

Setting sun brings winter’s chill

Soon an hour earlier we will run

Wood cutting and bundling up are near

For fall and winter’s promise are here

The Democrats Have No Clothes

Brett Kavanaugh confirmation hearing Senate Judiciary Committee

“But the Emperor is naked!” Cried the little boy, after being told that the Emperor was wearing the finest haberdashery in the land.

The boy, like most of us, can see right through the chicanery.

One after another, charlatans are coming forward in an attempt to sell us wares that simply do not exist.

How long will it last? As long as the Republicans allow it. As long as the American People allow it.

The Republicans can act now, ignoring the myth-makers and their tall tales of a good, honest man who has a dastardly past. They can call the vote. Anyone voting against Judge Kavanagh’s appointment will surely become vulnerable in the mid-term elections this November or thereafter if their terms are not up now.

Americans can make their feelings known via the ballot. Vote Democrat if you believe in nudists and fairy tales, and vote Republican if you like lower taxes, more jobs, energy independence, stronger military, fair trade, a wall, America First, etc.

The allegations against the Judge have all been handed over to the Democrats, the media, or nefarious attorneys at law. Why none to proper law enforcement, aka, the police?

None of the allegations have enough who, what, where, when or why to proceed in a legal case. Although the alleged victims have a right to sue in court for redress, none has done so. Why?

Why indeed. The motives are apparent, just as the bare skin of the Emperor with no clothes. The Democrats are naked, and apparently, they do not care. They should.

The Democrat’s nudity on this issue should be a grave concern to them, as #WalkAway activists are questioning the sanity of their party and moving by droves into the middle, where President Donald Trump waits triumphantly to snatch them up into the #MAGA mantra and onto the steaming #TrumpTrain!

Naturist Democrats have finally destroyed any hope of ever coming back from the death of rationality in their party. There is no Democrat platform. There are no new Democrat ideas. Democrats are currently living in pure fiction, and getting worse by the moment by holding up pathetic lies in order to stir their base.

Unfortunately for the birthday suit Dems, the only ones left in their base for them to court are either illegal aliens or Alt-Left Pagan utilitarian humanist nut jobs, who for a fee are willing to harass an innocent Republican Senator and his wife out of a D.C. restaurant, chanting, “We believe survivors!”

Remember the “by any means necessary,” and “get in their face” Democrat leaders? Soon, they will be the only ones left, campaigning to the mirror, ignoring their own naked reflection in the looking glass, and then falling in.

Independence Day for Patriots

This July 4, there is much to celebrate, with the economy, world peace and Supreme Court nominations looking good, but there is also a lot to keep battling for, such as better race relations, border security and fair news coverage among them.

We are it seems, in a constant state of war for independence; independence from harassment, fake news and un-American activities.

Democracies are messy (and please, no nonsense here about the United States of America not being a democracy, but a Constitutional Republic. The two things are not mutually exclusive. That’s a semantic argument, not a substantive one.). Democracies sometimes fight themselves, but all should be in an effort to improve the QUALITY of our little experiment.

During times of war (and we ARE in a Global War on Terror), there are two acts for which there can be no forgiveness and no quarter; they are sedition and invasion.

During the Revolutionary War traitors were hung or shot on the battlefield. Bowe Bergdahl would not have lasted two seconds had he been retrieved from his desertion back then.

After signing the Declaration of Independence, Benjamin Franklin stated that “If we do not hang together we shall certainly hang separately.” He was not kidding or using hyperbole.

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When the 56 Signers of The Declaration of Independence attached their signatures to that document, each knew they were committing treason against the British Crown.  If caught and captured, they risked death. But death would not be swift. It would be by hanging to the point of unconsciousness, then being revived, disemboweled, their body parts boiled in oil and their ashes scattered into the wind. Our Founding Fathers valued freedom, for themselves and their posterity (us), to the extent that they found this fate worth the risk.

Five signers were captured by the British and brutally tortured as traitors. Nine fought in the War for Independence and died from wounds or from hardships they suffered. Two lost their sons in the Continental Army. Another two had sons captured. At least a dozen of the 56 had their homes pillaged and burned.

What kind of men were they? Twenty-five were lawyers or jurists. Eleven were merchants. Nine were farmers or large plantation owners. One was a teacher, one a musician, and one a printer. These were men of means and education, yet they signed the Declaration of Independence, knowing full well that the penalty could be death if they were captured.

Today we have manifest treason morphed into sedition (conduct or speech inciting people to rebel against the authority of the state) in the form of acts against a duly nominated and then elected president, our democratic election process and our democracy itself.

Robert Mueller

Department of Justice and Federal Bureau of Investigation officials have broken sacred trust with We the People. They have abused their standing and power in an effort at a soft coup. It is ongoing, but slowly the curtain is being pulled back to reveal yet more disturbing facts than we could have imagined just a few short years ago.

The Deep State has robbed us of our national pride. The Alt-Left have driven divisive pillars all around us in an attempt to corral our patriotism and then destroy it. The Mainstream Media perpetrate divisive propaganda and fake news.

Deep State

Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., used the American flag as his symbol for the Civil Rights movement. His dream of Americans judging each other based on our character (our words and deeds) instead of the color of our skin, or origin, or religion, etc., if far from realized.

Selma to Montgomery, Alabama Civil Rights March

Having grown up in the 1960’s and 1970’s in Southern California, I can tell you even though things weren’t perfect; there was far less racial vitriol than there is today. Rev. King’s dream was becoming a reality.

Today, Rev. King might say that anyone who would divide us for any reason is UN-American. Rev. King was about loving your neighbor as yourself. He was about togetherness and celebrating similarities.

Americans are generous, benevolent, kind, hardworking, fierce and persistent. We are persistent in our belief that all men (and women) are created equal, but that equality must be protected and preserved by the character of our people. Rights are not given so much as they are earned through citizenship. Opportunity is not a gift; it is a hard-won prize of effort and conviction.

The Justice Department and FBI scandals of today should be met with the same consequence that befell Major John Andre, Benedict Arnold’s accomplice, who was captured and then hung.

John Andre's Execution

In time of invasion or sedition, the President can suspend habeas corpus (legal due process) and have invaders and traitors tried under the rules of the Uniform Code of Military Justice in a military commission.

We are at war (Global War on Terror), and traitors (FBI, DOJ officials) and invaders (unlawful border crossers) abound!

In 1942, during WWII, six of eight German saboteurs were caught dry foot on US soil, were denied habeas corpus, tried by military commission (unanimously approved by the Supreme Court), and then executed by electric chair less than eight weeks after their capture.

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What then is the difference between the German saboteurs (who were proven to have the means and intent to kill and to destroy property in the name of the Third Reich, and were found guilty of breaking the Geneva Conventions) and those who illegally cross our borders, or unlawful combatant Islamists who want to kill us being held at the US military detention facility at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and who still perpetrate deadly terror throughout the world, including on our own soil?

In Boumediene vs. Bush, the Supreme Court ruled in a 5-4 decision (the swing vote and decision written by Justice Kennedy, who has announced he will be retiring from the bench by the end of July), it was mentioned that the US presence at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba (Gitmo), was tantamount to “de facto” US territory, which laid the groundwork for detainees to petition for habeas corpus, as if they were on actual US soil.

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In the early 1990’s then President Bill Clinton used Guantanamo Bay as a detention center for unlawful immigrants from both Haiti and Cuba. Conditions were harsh, just like they were for the first detainees in the Global War on Terror at Camp X-Ray for three months, until better accommodations at Camp Delta could be built in April of 2002.

If the current law of the land considers Gitmo to be de facto US soil, then there is no bar to sending those accused of sedition and invasion there to await trial by military commission.

Why then is the penalty less, or non-existent for those who now would take away the freedom, independence and liberty fought for and won with the blood of our forbearers and framers?

Now more than ever we must rally to the side of our President, who, despite sometimes unsavory characteristics, has made the pledge of his good name, livelihood and life to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, so help him, God.

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On this Independence Day, please be mindful of your combat veteran neighbors, and be thrifty with your fireworks if you have them. Remember those who helped create this great nation pledged (and some gave) the full measure of their existence so that WE may be entrusted with carrying on with the hard work of preserving this great Union, with all of its pitfalls and tribulations, wonder and beauty, but to see through the fog of war and the false pretenses of un-America activities.

This land is our land, and we need to protect it with the conviction and vigor that motivated the original 56 patriots. This day is for them and for us; it is Independence Day for Patriots. Let’s act like it.

Sacred Day for Sacred Causes: Fisher House Hits Milestone for Heroes and Their Families

The Fisher House Foundation is best known for its network of more than 77 comfort homes where families of ill/injured military members can stay while their loved one is being treated.
 
Most recently, Ken Fisher, CEO of Fisher House Foundation lead the Foundation’s efforts to cover death benefits of families of fallen heroes during the government shutdown. Ken has never worn the uniform himself, but comes from a family with a long history of serving those who have served:
 
The Fisher House Foundation was founded almost 30 years ago by Ken’s Great Uncle Zach Fisher and has since served more than 300,000 families and can house up to 1,000 families per night in homes across the country.
Fisher House Grand Opening
 
Zachary Fisher also founded the Intrepid Museum Foundation to memorialize the WWII aircraft carrier and honor the men and women of the armed services. Ken continues to serve on the board and is the museum’s largest supporter.
 
The Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund has provided more than $150 million in death benefits and scholarships in support of fallen military personnel lost in service to our nation.
I had the privilege and honor of interviewing Ken Fisher to see what’s new with The Foundation, and why Memorial Day is so special.
Fisher Ken
Ken said, “Memorial Day is a sacred day for this country, because we honor those who sacrificed their lives for our freedom. While Fisher House’s core mission is to provide free housing for families of hospitalized service people and veterans, we were made aware that families of the fallen had no place to stay at Dover AFB when a loved one’s remains are returned for a Dignified Transfer. We built a Fisher House for the families of the fallen at Dover, because we didn’t feel that the options previously available were worthy of the sacrifices they had made. We also provided a non-denominational spiritual center where they could go to pray, or meditate. For many of the families, it has been one of their first interactions with the military, so it’s our hope that we not only helped ease their burden, but we also created something dignified and comforting. So far some 2400 families have used the Dover house. It is the one house I want to see empty.”
 
When I asked Ken to tell me about his uncle Zach, he had this to say, “My Uncle Zach taught me many things – specifically the true meaning of giving back.  Military and veteran families too often are forgotten but the entire family serves. He taught me the true meaning of patriotism. I remember him being asked if he had any regrets – and his response was that he didn’t – he was too busy counting his blessings. That’s the way I feel. What was a desire to continue a legacy turned into a fierce passion for my wife and me.”
 
When I asked Ken how his Uncle Zach became involved with the Intrepid, this is what he had to say, “Zach learned that the Intrepid, an Aircraft Carrier that had served in three wars and was a primary recovery vessel for NASA was going to be decommissioned and scraped. Intrepid lost some 270 sailors and aviators from Kamikaze attacks or in the skies above her. He viewed it as a piece of history that needed to be saved. It was a massive undertaking, with so many hurdles to overcome. But in true Zach fashion he succeeded. Today, it is one of the only Air, Sea, and Space Museums of its kind  – 1 million visitors each year come to Intrepid, including school children in New York City who visit for STEM education projects. It is an honor and privilege to serve as its co-chair.
 
I asked Ken where the idea for the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund originated, and why keeping the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund vibrant was important to him. Ken told me, “Zach did so much, including giving grants to families of our fallen soldiers.  After Uncle Zach passed, my father and my late cousin, Tony, started the Fallen Heroes Fund to supplement death benefits. When it was founded in 2001, these families only received about $6,000, of which a large portion was taxed. While it’s impossible to put a value on a life, that was clearly inadequate. So Fallen Heroes supplemented this by giving an additional $25,000 to these grieving families, most of which were on food stamps. I think the Foundation brought this to national attention – and soon after, Congress enacted legislation to increase the gratuity and remove the tax. Families now get $100,000 very soon after their loved one’s passing. It certainly doesn’t make up for their sacrifice, but it’s a big step toward rebuilding their lives.
 
“My father repurposed the Fallen Heroes Fund to a project-driven organization that built the Center for the Intrepid at Brook Army Medical Center, a physical rehab center, and The National Center of Excellence (NICoE) in Bethesda, to deal with PTS and TBI, the unseen wounds of war.  They now are building “Spirit Centers” that allow these men and women to get care closer to home.”
 
Ken’s father is the families’ only veteran – he served in the Korean War.
Fisher Houe Plaque
 
Finally, I asked Ken what his vision for the future of Fisher House was, and what was next for the Fisher family. He had this to say, “Our goal is to continue to build Fisher Houses wherever one is needed. My vision is to stay true to our mission, and honor our donors by doing exactly what their donation was intended to achieve. For us, that means easing the burden on families during a most difficult time in their lives. I would give that advice to anyone in their work to give back.
 
“We want to remain a family-centric organization and we will continue to work hard to maintain our A+ Charity Navigator rating.  I am so proud of what we have achieved and what the future holds.”
 
And we are proud of you and your dedicated family and partners!
 
Memorial Day is a time for reverent appreciation for the fallen. It can also be a time after which we can re-focus on those who are still with us to help give them and their families the quality of care and life we wish we had, were we in need.
 
Please visit The Fisher Foundation web page and help build the next Fisher House!

Retreat

Retreat

Retreat is the hardest sound a soldier hears.

The bugle calls and pierces a warrior’s heart.

Forward, ever forward! His courage calls!

Moving back is antithetical to everything he knows.

When he is called, however, he goes,

Because a good soldier always does what he’s told,

Regardless of how his heart feels.

“Live to fight another day,” the shrill sound beckons.

“But this was my day to die,” the warrior thinks.

“This was a good day to die.”

– m.j.granger ©2018