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Last Sunday morning, the day before Memorial Day, I headed out early-early to get some photographs.  I first headed down to Quantico Marine Corps Base, then headed into DC.  Arlington did not open its gates until 0800, and since I got in the area around 0715, I headed over to the Iwo Jima US Marine Corps Memorial over in Rosslyn. 

I was there perhaps 15 minutes when another man showed up, taking some photos on his Canon Sureshot,  We were the only two there that morning at that particular time.

He came over towards me and said “Impressive”, gesturing to the huge monument.  “As it should be for the US Marines”, I replied.

Turned out he was the father of a US Marine killed in Iraq in 2005.  The father was there at the Iwo Jima memorial to meet up with a bunch of Marines, either from his son’s unit or associated with it, who were celebrating their Memorial Day by running to the memorial from Richmond.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries – t’was an absolutely brilliant morning highlighted by the occasional roar of a group of hogs and the like heading over to the Pentagon North Parking for the Rolling Thunder assemblage.

The hour was approaching 8am, so I bade the gentleman well, we shook hands (about as strong a handshake as I have felt of late)  and I headed back to my truck.  As I was driving out, something was nagging at me.  I had forgotten something, but didn’t really know exactly what.

Then it hit me.  I circled around on the approach way to the Memorial, pulling up on the side.  The father was still there, still looking at the giant memorial.

“I’m sorry sir.  One more thing”, I said “What was your son’s name”?

“Jourdan.  Jourdan Grez”, he replied.

“Jourdan Grez.  Thank you.  I will remember him”.

Later that morning, in section 60, Plot 3614, I was able to pay my respects to LCpl Jourdan Grez in person.  Rest in peace, Marine, and this entire nation thanks you for your sacrifice.  Your father is keeping your memory alive, Lance Corporal.  Semper Fi.

Mr. Grez, should you ever chance to read these words, it was an honor meeting you sir.  Thank you.

Crossposted at Blackfive.

I’m late to this dance, but it is one that is worthy and deserved.

VP-14’s Chief Aviation Ordnanceman John W. Finn was awarded the Medal of Honor for his action on the morning of 7 December 1941 in Hawaii.  His citation reads:

For extraordinary heroism distinguished service, and devotion above and beyond the call of duty. During the first attack by Japanese airplanes on the Naval Air Station, Kaneohe Bay, on 7 December 1941, Lt. Finn promptly secured and manned a .50-caliber machine gun mounted on an instruction stand in a completely exposed section of the parking ramp, which was under heavy enemy machine gun strafing fire. Although painfully wounded many times, he continued to man this gun and to return the enemy’s fire vigorously and with telling effect throughout the enemy strafing and bombing attacks and with complete disregard for his own personal safety. It was only by specific orders that he was persuaded to leave his post to seek medical attention. Following first aid treatment, although obviously suffering much pain and moving with great difficulty, he returned to the squadron area and actively supervised the rearming of returning planes. His extraordinary heroism and conduct in this action were in keeping with the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service.

In June 1942, Finn was temporarily commissioned as an Ensign, rising in rank to Lieutenant two years later. During his service as an officer, he served with Bombing Squadron 102, at several stateside training facilities and on board the aircraft carrier Hancock (CV-19). Following transfer to the Fleet Reserve in March 1947, he reverted to the enlisted rate of Chief Aviation Ordnanceman. In September 1956, he was placed on the Retired List in the rank of Lieutenant. John W. Finn died on 27 May 2010. Navy History & Heritage Command.

When our leadership names ships for corrupt and corpulent  politicians such as John Murtha instead of honoring the true heroes of our country, something is very, very wrong.

Go to the petition website and add your name.  We need to get this up into the eye-popping numbers.  As Americans, our elected and appointed officials work for us.  We need to let them know, in no uncertain terms what we feel is the honorable and right thing to do.  John Finn needs a warship named after him.  It is a just honor, one that is long overdue.  Every single Medal or Honor recipient should have a Navy combat ship named after them before any politician.

Go. Now.

Hat tip and a big thanks to  Boston Maggie for jumping on this and to Steeljaw Scribe, CDR Salamander and Navy Cyberspace Blog for leading the formation.

Spent some time Sunday morning getting some shots of some of the military-themed things going on around the northern VA/DC area.  The day started out at Quantico at about 5:30 am.  There is a statue of “Iron Mike”, the quintessential US Marine, outside the  National Museum of the Marine Corps.  The moon was looking tempting up there over Mike’s shoulder, so this came out of the first batch.  As silly as it may sound, it makes me think of how often since 1776 a US Marine stood watch or walked a patrol with that moon looking over his shoulder, his sole companion in some far flung field.

Iron Mike and moon, 30 May, 2010

Just outside the main gate at MCB Quantico is a smaller version of the Iwo Jima memorial that is in Rosslyn, Virginia (pics there to come).Here are a few from that monument:

Marine Corps Base Quantico

Detail

Quantico Iwo Jima memorial, 2010

(below)  The DC Iwo memorial is much MUCH larger and much more famous.

USMC Memorial, Washington DC

Rolling Thunder was there, as well, marshaling over at the Pentagon north parking.  Quite impressive!

Rolling Thunder, 2010

And of course we will not/can’t/will never/won’t ever forget the reason for the day.

Thank you to all the vets out there who have helped keep this nation that shining city on a hill.

Not quite Ansel Adams (see Moonrise Hernandez), but it is still kind of cool.

(Reposted from the Instapinch archives that were lost last late summer…originally posted 23 March, 2007)

That is a term we would use when a carrier (or any ship, I suppose) would pull pierside and they would shut down the boilers or turn off the reactors (you can tell I’m not nuke material) or whatever – and everyone would go on leave – with the exception of the duty watch team.

A bit different with KENNEDY today. The decommissioning for the old girl was held this afternoon, and the pomp and circumstance and ceremony of centuries of Navy tradition was played out under a beautiful blue Florida sky. When the crew left the ship this time, there was no watch team left behind – nothing left but a silent ship.

USS JOHN F KENNEDY is indeed cold iron.

MAYPORT, Fla. (March 23, 2007) – Sailors take their final walk down the brow of USS John F. Kennedy (CV 67) during the historical decommissioning ceremony. Kennedy served its country with more than 38 years of service and 18 official deployments. U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Susan Cornell (RELEASED)

The below article talks about a KENNEDY reunionthat was held the day before. Read the whole thing – it really captures a lot of what these ships mean to the men who served on her:

It was a homecoming for JFK alumni
FLORIDA TIMES UNION, 23 MAR 07, By Mark Woods

From afar, it might seem like just a ship.

A massive ship. A ship that, as the last conventionally powered aircraft carrier built by the Navy, represents a disappearing piece of U.S. military history. A ship that received so many modifications that it’s basically one of a kind.

But it’s still just a ship, right?

Not to the hundreds of people who stepped back onto the USS John F. Kennedy on Thursday – some of them for the first time since they stepped off it decades ago.

It was Alumni Day, a chance for former crew members to return to the JFK before today’s decommissioning ceremony.

They came from all over the country. They showed spouses and children and grandchildren where they used to live and work. They bumped into old buddies and told old stories, some of which they insisted were true.

They walked up and down familiar steps, grabbing familiar pieces of metal, holding on a little longer than they once did. And not just because they haven’t been on the ship in a while.

Because they knew this was it. They were saying goodbye to something that, to them, is much more than a ship.

“It’s my second home,” said Mike Friedman, 44, of Toledo, Ohio, recalling his three cruises in three different decades.

“Coming back is like going back to your hometown,” said Laurie Jacobs, 45, of Jacksonville.
“It’s part of my life, that is what it is,” said Norman Hults of Windsor, Va.

Hults, 64, stood on the flight deck with his wife, Ruth. He explained that he met her while on leave, more than 32 years ago. Returning to the ship brought back memories of that time, of working in the engine rooms, of being a sailor on the JFK.

“There were good days and bad days,” Hults said, adding with a smile, “but I’ve forgotten all the bad ones.”

He recently watched as another ship he served on was dismantled and turned into scrap metal. That left the Kennedy as the last ship he has served on that’s still around. So when asked about the decommissioning, he said, “It brings tears to my eyes.”

Moments later – and throughout the morning – there was the sound of a clang, clang, followed by an announcement.

“Plank owner arriving.”

The “plank owners” are the ship’s original crew members, the sailors who were there when the ship was commissioned on Sept. 7, 1968.

Robert Lehman was a machinist mate 2nd class working with air-conditioning and refrigeration. He hadn’t been back on the ship since 1971. Standing in the bright sunlight on the flight deck, he said: “It’s weird. I remember coming up here in the middle of the ocean, pitch black and nothing but the moon and stars. I miss the Navy days.”

Some of the alumni went up to the navigation bridge. Some had their children sit in the captain’s chair for photos. Frank Galietti, one of the plank owners, grabbed some familiar controls and said with a grin, “I feel 40 years younger.”

To the alumni, the ship is much more than tons of metal. It’s sweat and blood. Their sweat and blood.

Jack Devlin, a plank owner now living in Boston, talked about the commissioning and how, on that day, they gave Big John its “heartbeat.”

“It has a life,” said Devlin, who was a radar operator on the ship. “It absolutely has a life.”

If that’s the case, then it was a good, long life. And as is the case with all long lives, it included plenty of ups and downs. Repeated cruises to the Middle East, dating back to the 1970s. A massive homecoming celebration in Virginia after Desert Storm. A collision with the USS Belknap in 1975. Periods of disrepair. Periods of repair.

It’s a tribute to the sailors who served on the Kennedy that it survived this long. Some of them wish it could last longer. Others say it’s time. Maybe even past time.

“It’s kind of like the aging parent that finally passes,” said Jacobs, who was the ship’s first dental hygienist. “It’s bittersweet.”

It’s not just that the ship has had a good life. So have the people who served on it.

That’s what they kept saying as they walked around the Kennedy one last time.

There were times during their cruises when they couldn’t wait to get off the ship. That’s what happens when you serve on an aircraft carrier, when you’re at sea for months at a time. But this day, they didn’t want to leave.

They lingered.

They sounded homesick.

For a ship, they kept saying, is much more than a ship.

UPDATE:

Kennedy sat at Naval Base Norfolk’s Pier 6 for the better part of a year while preparations for her tow up to Philadelphia’s inactive ship facility were made.  There hadn’t been a carrier there since America left for (horrors) a weapons-testing sinkex a few years prior in 2005.

They wouldn’t let anyone on board Kennedy during her time spent in Norfolk.  I managed to get a few shots of her, though, as she sat, deader than a doornail, awaiting her long-term storage.

The island, all closed and boarded up looking like a condemned old tenement from the projects, ready to be torn down for a super Wal Mart or something.

The waterline, showing how much weight was taken off.  She’s riding high, no doubt.

A shot from aft, looking at how the stern settles down with the weight of those big diesel engines still in her.

Too much of a sad note to end this post with,…SO…let’s leave her on a happy note – in better days!

You’re scheduled for the alert 5 launch.  Yay!  Sort of.  It can be the most boring 2 hours in your life if there’s nothing going on.

Our 88-89 Med Cruise was like that.  Even though Rev and I did get launched on an alert 7 to intercept a Soviet Badger that came out for a look-see from Syria, by and large we would set the alert…and sit…and look at the Cat 2 track stretching out 243′ in front of us.

Hence this unofficial patch that was made for the 88-89 “Alert Med Cruise”.  And yes, that is a goat being roped.

I suppose that cruise had its moments.  The Soviets were a year or two away from imploding so not much was going o in that respect.   Southwest Asia (Iran/Iraq/etc) had not blown up yet.  Kennedy was an oil-burning ship, so we had no restrictions on port calls.  We had 12 ports in that 6 months, so on an average of every two weeks we were pulling in somewhere – Toulon, Marseilles, Cannes, Antalya, Tunis, Naples (twice – oh joy, oh bliss), Augusta Bay (not really a port call – it was turnover with IKE for about 3 days) , Alexandria, Palma (twice – yeah, baby!), Haifa…so over all the cruise wasn’t too bad.

Those of you over on Facebook have already seen this one.  Heading back home to northern VA from a Christmas visit in Dec 2004 with Mom and Dad in western North Carolina.  Its one of those moments where you say to yourself “THAT would make a great picture!”, and you end up actually capturing what you saw.

Somewhere north of western North Carolina and south of Northern Virginia, Dec 2004.

What is interesting is friends who travel that route regularly seem to know exactly where that was taken based on what you can see – the bridge in the mirror, the countryside.  I say more power to them!  I have no clue!

Well…..sort of.  Me and about a dozen other people

Last year Learning Express found the blog and came to some sort of conclusion that a) I could write a bit and b) I knew something about military aviation.  They hired me to help update and re-write their Military Flight Aptitude Test book/study guide, and here it is!  Yay!  Look for it in your local book stores!

Even managed to sneak a pic of the ol’ Pinch in there!!!