It's all Greek to me.

While at one of America's mega-monopolizing book stores today I picked up some new brain food:


Image Source

Words had to change their ordinary meaning and to take that which was now given them. Reckless audacity came to be considered the courage of a loyal ally; prudent hesitation, specious cowardice; moderation was held to be a cloak for unmanliness; ability to see all sides of a question, inaptness to act on any. Frantic violence became the attribute of manliness; cautious plotting, a justifiable means of self-defence. The advocate of extreme measures was always trustworthy; his opponent a man to be suspected.

Man, sounds like they had some real Tea-Partiers on their hands in the days of "hallowed antiquity". 

Yes, I'm going to read Thucidydes' History of the Peloponnesian War.  I'm actually doing a good bit more.  I'm embarking on a personal study of the war based upon three books:

The Peloponnesian War by Donald Kagan, widely considered the definitive, single-volume source for the "general reader" looking to understand the event.  It is still around 500 pages -  a decent chunk by anyone's standards.  From it I hope to get a reasonable understanding of the conditions that led to the war between Athens and Sparta and, as the book boldly promises, lessons and insights that are as relevant today as they were 2500 years ago.

The next book I plan to read is A War Like No Other by Victor Davis Hanson.  Definitely a controversial author for his conservative views and support for the war in Iraq, Hanson is nonetheless one of the foremost military historians in the country.  This book examines how both sides fought - on land and on sea, weapons, organization, tactics, etc. - within a somewhat disjointed (he admits as much in the preface) accounting of the history itself.  

Finally, there is The Landmark Thucydides edited by R. B. Strassler, apparently the only amateur of the bunch.  Unlike other translations, this has additional notes and appendices by classical scholars that will help put the text into context for the "uninitiated" reader.  I used a similar annotated text when I read Clausewitz last year, and On War is only 150 years old, so I figure if I'm going back to Greece in the 5th Century B.C., I'll need much the same.  My plan, in reading the above two books (which reference Thucydides extensively) is to refer to Strassler as a primary source to go back to and do all the extensive digging and thinking when I feel the need to do so.

I know I'm getting it backwards, I should probably read the primary source first.  But as many academics will tell you, you smash your brain against the primary source only to finish it wondering "What the fuck did I just read?" until your secondary sources shed light.  I'm not in school anymore, so I'm running straight for the light.

Why am I subjecting myself to this?  Because Daniel Drezner told me I should.  Well, not exactly.  I have, however, deepened my interest in history in the year I was away from the blogosphere, and also gained a new interest in strategy, policy and decision-making, both historic and current.  And to tell you the truth, in much of what I studied over the past year (unfortunately I did not get to study the Peloponnesian War) does echo still today.

In fact, my interest in these topics has expanded so much that I'm planning on writing about them more often, as part of a new policy think-tank.  I think I'll call it:

The R'lyeh Institute for Policy, Strategy and Highly Incomplete Thinking, or RIPSHIT.  Look for it, coming soon...

Historical History...And The Day Of Reckoning Is At Hand

Ugh, it's late again, and I need to be getting to bed. I have my rescheduled surgery tomorrow, and the requisite recovery time where I'll be sitting on my ass, so I'll get to hammer out some stuff tomorrow. And more meaningful than the last time, as I have a few things lined up I want to post about...it'll also give me time to catch up on reading and commenting on some recent posts on my favorite blogs, in which I am quite delinquent. I haven't tracked down any further threads of the "Bus to Arkham" beyond Crummy's.

But that's not what I came to write about. I work in the history field right now - Naval History, to be exact - even though my degrees are Electrical Engineering and Physics (go figure!). Love the Great Age of Sail, and WWII in particular, and I've often thought about, once or twice a month, putting something in here about history. Maybe I'll start doing that next week.

In the meantime, check out the cool historical history widget I got...216 years ago today was not a good one for Louis XVI.

Commemorations and Great Men

So today was a pretty busy day for me; my calendar looked like this:

1130 am - 3 pm Toys for Tots brunch, Charlestown Navy Yard
1200 pm - 1230 pm Pearl Harbor Commemoration on a ex-USS CASSIN YOUNG
2 pm - 3 pm Pearl Harbor Commemoration, Faneuil Hall
4 pm Christmas Tree Lighting, Charlestown Navy Yard

My plan was to hit the brunch, drop off toys and glad-hand, head to the first commemoration (CASSIN YOUNG is on the Navy Yard) and slip back to the brunch for another mimosa or two before I had to head to Faneuil Hall.

The weather shot my plans in the ass a little. The first snow of the year here in Boston came today; as the decks of CASSIN YOUNG were getting slick, and there were going to be some elderly Pearl Harbor survivors at the ceremony, it was delayed 30 minutes and moved indoors, and then move back to the ship for a wreath laying. Great - no mimosas. It doesn't matter, it's the kids and the survivors that matter today.

At the Toys for Tots brunch I ran into the first of two remarkable people. His name is Rudy. I was excited to go to the brunch because I knew he'd be there. To meet him is to meet a thoroughly pleasant, smiling and jovial old man, still in is USMC Sergeant Major's uniform - one that has a Silver Star and three Purple Hearts on it, as well as a master parachutist and diver's pin. To know his story is amazing; I once heard it from him when he spoke at a memorial event. His first landing was at this hellish place known as Iwo Jima. There he received his first Purple Heart. His second landing (and Purple Heart) was at Inchon. He was also at Hue City and Khe-Sanh, and got his third Purple Heart in there somewhere. Dunno' where he got his Silver Star; you just don't ask people where they get them. I made this mistake once; I was a young midshipman, and during "Marine Week" in summer training I asked a grizzled old Colonel where he got his. He looked at me and smiled, "Well son, this one time I got my ass in a crack and had to pry it out." I remember he smoked a pipe, but kept it upside down. He was more open about this, "That way I can smoke in the rain."

Okay, so back to Rudy. Between WWII and Vietnam he has 30 years of service and retires. He then spends the next 20 working security at U.S. embassies across the globe. And finally, when he's done doing that, he retires again and spends his time doing Toys for Tots. I wish I had a picture of this man. I can only guess the horrors he has seen and lived through in supporting and defending the Constitution, and all the stress and trauma he has been through. Yet he is just the happiest, kindest and most upbeat and caring person you could meet. Old but spry, you can tell he's a Marine for life. To me, he is an example of service. He had every right after WWII to say "I'm done America, and now I'm going to live my life secure in the confidence that I have done my part".

So, I drop off my toys, have a quick bite, the mimosa line was too long, and I head to the CASSIN YOUNG Pearl Harbor Memorial. There I run into another man I've met several times before. His name is Don, and he's a survivor of the attack on Pearl Harbor. He had just joined the Navy and had been stationed on Ford Island for about a month before the attack. In the two years I have been going to these memorials, he's brought up some interesting stories. If Rudy is spry, Don is the opposite; he's hobbled and slowing down and he knows that his "turn" is coming soon. But he's out here every year, running this memorial. The most moving part of the memorial for me was shaking his hand after wreaths were laid taps was played; he extended his hand and said, "I'm sorry about my eyes. Taps always does that to me." I could see the tears behind his glasses and running down his face. I told him it was okay; it's nothing to be sorry about. He also spoke at Faneuil Hall, giving the same remarks, but it was just as interesting to hear them again. It saddens me that as the years pass, less and less attention seems to be paid to this event.

The Christmas Tree lighting was fun.

Okay, it's bed time. But before I go, I'd like to talk about Toys for Tots one more time. Initially, it was intended that the Marines would actually work in Santa's Workshop for part of the year. It didn't work too well. There is early video of these failures:

We Will Remember Them...

First, I hope everyone had a reflective and aware Veteran's Day. I use those two adjectives because I can't find any reason to celebrate the day. Not to mean that I view it as a negative thing, quite the opposite. I think reflection on and realization of the sacrifices of the American "citizen soldier" - and indeed those across the world - should ultimately have a sobering but positive impact on someone.

As my cousin DrMomentum points out, Veteran's Day is about peace and the price at which it was bought. Being a nostalgic type and something of a history buff, I tend to go way, way back - to the Armistice itself or before - to reflect. I have to admit World War I fascinates me. Why? One name. Frank Buckles. He's the only living American WWI veteran. He's one of maybe five in the world left alive, and when they die, any and all memory of "The Great War" will die with him. Of course, we will still have records, but still - when that final person passes, to me we truly lose the connection to that period. The finality of losing that connection, to me, is really something to ponder. It's a fate that ultimately awaits all of us and those memories and experiences we carry.

I make it a point to listen to the song "The Green Fields of France" at least once on Veteran's Day. This version is sung by John McDermott, and some elements of the millenial generation probably know the song, from the Dropkick Murphys' 2005 Album "The Warrior's Code".



I find the verbal imagery very powerful, the description of the horrors and consequences of war, and the thought that it is possible to lose the memory of a person and an event forever - "or are you a face, without even a name"? Which brings me back to Mr. Buckles and the rest of the 24.9 Million living veterans in the United States.

Today is the day we try to keep all those who came back do not become "faces, without even a name" - that their collective memory, their experience, is not forgotten.

Why? Not just for their sake, but for everyone's. We can't just honor what they did, we have to complete their work. The last verse of favorite poem of mine, In Flanders Fields, speaks to this:

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Again, the poem is about those who did not come back, but the direction - to take up the quarrel, hold the torch high and to not break faith - means as much to those who did. Doubtless in 1915 this was an admonition to take up arms, to join the fight. But today, it must mean more.

We must seek out and eliminate terrorists. We must also work to eliminate those conditions that allow extremism to take root. We must secure our current supply of energy. We must also diversify our energy requirements. We must be strong and ready to defeat emerging threats. We must also be willing to more effectively use communication and diplomacy as a deterrent.

I do not think mankind - on an individual or societal scale - will ever overcome its competitive nature. The world will always be turning out more veterans. We as a people and a nation must do everything in our power to make sure we only do it when absolutely necessary.

Who'll come a-waltzing matilda with me?

Today has always been an important day in our home, especially for my wife, Sarah. 25 April is ANZAC Day, the day the Australia-New Zealand Army Corps landed in Anzac Cove on Gallipoli in a long and ill-fated campaign to knock Turkey out of the First World War.

The landing and the next five days would cost the ANZACs nearly 5,000 killed, missing or wounded, and the entirety of the campaign would claim nearly 9,000 ANZAC casualties. Just a tiny fraction of the nearly 340,000 combined casualties that the next eight months would bring, but the impact of those 9,000 is still seen today.

Two war correspondents, Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett and Charles Bean, by documenting and this and other endeavors of the Australian troops, are largely credited with giving birth to the Anzac Spirit

The Anzac spirit or Anzac legend is a concept which suggests that Australian and New Zealand soldiers possess shared national characteristics, specifically the qualities those soldiers are believed to have shown in World War I. These qualities cluster around several ideas, including endurance, courage, ingenuity, good humour, and mateship. According to this concept, the soldiers are perceived to have been innocent and fit, stoical and laconic, irreverent in the face of authority, naturally egalitarian and disdainful of British class differences.

The Anzac spirit also tends to capture the idea of an Australian "national character", with the landing at Anzac Cove often described as being the moment of birth of Australia's nationhood.

Correspondingly, ANZAC Day is a big day there. It typically starts with a Dawn Service at a local war memorial or other prominent place.

The Dawn Service observed on ANZAC Day has its origins in an operational routine which is still observed by the Australian Army today. During battle, the half-light of dawn was one of the most favoured times for an attack. Soldiers in defensive positions were, therefore, woken up in the dark, before dawn, so by the time first light crept across the battlefield they were awake, alert, and manning their weapons. This was, and still is, known as "stand-to". It was also repeated at sunset.

After the First World War, returned soldiers sought the comradeship they felt in those quiet, peaceful moments before dawn. With symbolic links to the dawn landing at Gallipoli, a dawn stand-to or ceremony became a common form of ANZAC Day remembrance during the 1920s; the first official dawn service was held at the Sydney Cenotaph in 1927. Dawn services were originally very simple and followed the operational ritual. In many cases they were restricted to veterans only and the daytime ceremony was for families and other well-wishers. Before dawn the gathered veterans would be ordered to "stand to" and two minutes' silence would follow. At the end of this time a lone bugler would play the Last Post and then concluded the service with Reveille. In more recent times the families and young people have been encouraged to take part in dawn services, and services in Australian capital cities have seen some of the largest turnouts ever. Reflecting this change, the ceremonies have become more elaborate, incorporating hymns, readings, pipers, and rifle volleys. Others, though, have retained the simple format of the dawn stand-to, familiar to so many soldiers.

I attended a dawn service eight years ago, when Sarah and I were in Cairns for her sister's wedding. Everyone was there - ages 5 to 85 - reflecting on the tragic event that gave birth to their "national character". It was a truly moving experience, and one that I can see no parallel to here in the United States.

The day is just as significant in Turkey. Dawn services are also held at Anzac Cove itself; this year's was attended by ten thousand Australians, New Zealanders and Turks. Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the first President of the post-Ottoman Turkish Republic, was in command of the Turkish forces at Anzac Cove, as a Colonel.

In 1934 Atatürk wrote a tribute to the ANZACs killed at Gallipoli:

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives... You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side now here in this country of ours... you, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land. They have become our sons as well.

This inscription appears on the Kemal Atatürk Memorial, ANZAC Parade, Canberra.

In the past, we would usually recognize ANZAC Day by having a dinner of traditional Australian fare - rack of lamb, with potato, pumpkin, and vegetables, and a pavlova for dessert. We'll also listen to Australian music - from folk (like The Aussie Bush Band) to rock (like Cold Chisel, whose lead singer, Jimmy Barnes sings "Good Times" with INXS on the Lost Boys soundtrack).

This year, it kind of got away from us, with everything going on. And that bugs me, for two reasons. First, it's a large part of Sarah's identity; she is a proud Australian, and as happy as we are together, the separation she endures from her home still weighs heavy upon her after 11 years. We also want our children to take as much pride in their Australian heritage as their Lebanese and American heritage. Lastly, it means a lot to me because, as I said, we don't appear to have anything here that parallels ANZAC Day here in America where we, as a nation, take the time to really reflect on our national identity and at what price it was bought. The direct, practiced link between history and today is not ingrained. I felt some of that on Patriot's Day eve, when I attended the Old North Church lantern lighting ceremony, but name the three (yep, that's it...three!) states that recognize Patriot's Day (I mean the anniversary of Paul Revere's ride...not 9-11!).

Wow...it's not even ANZAC Day anymore...does that mean I need to delete without posting?

On a final note, I mentioned we listen to Australian music on ANZAC Day. A big part of it is this song - "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda" - written in 1972 by Eric Bogle,

describing the futility, gruesome reality and the destruction of war, while criticising those who seek to glorify it. This is exemplified in the song by the account of a young Australian soldier on his maiming during the Battle of Gallipoli during the First World War.

It can be tough to get through with dry eyes, but it is a beautiful piece.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

-Laurence Binyon