Category: Holidays

Something’s in the Way

A sailboat heads toward an iceberg and its rocky look-alike in eastern Greenland’s Scoresby Sund, a Greenland Sea inlet that branches into an intricate network of fjords. Greenland, the world’s largest island, is more than 80 percent covered by ice; however, despite its desolate appearance in this image, the sound is a productive habitat for wildlife, supporting many species of land animals, birds, and marine life.

I don’t know how much time I’ll have to spend on this thing this weekend, it appears that folks have plans for me. So, Merry Christmas to those of you that deserve it.

Written by our own MCPO NYC USN (Ret.);

March 17, 2016 New York City:
Saint Patrick’s Day … a day we all enjoy here in the Big Apple, for everyone is Irish on this day and we New Yorkers and Irish alike sincerely promote that idea, express it quite well and deliver to all who wish to celebrate a parade and other social engagements a gathering like no other place anywhere in the world. Beyond the parade and all the celebration attached, there is much deeper meaning to the significance of the day’s event recognizing the contributions of the Irish around world.
And that significance is the people of Ireland as transformed by Saint Patrick himself. Saint Patrick the patron of Ireland came to the Ireland … well … allow Wiki to tell you their version:

“The dates of Patrick’s life cannot be fixed with certainty but … he was active as a missionary in Ireland during the second half of the fifth century. When he was about 16, he was captured from his home in Great Britain, and taken as a slave to Ireland, where he lived for six years before escaping and returning to his family. After becoming a cleric, he returned to northern and western Ireland. In later life, he served as an ordained bishop …”
I find this account amusing, as Trinity College in Dublin can almost, with a very high degree of certainty account for most of Saint Patrick’s time as both a slave and man of God and it does not seem as simple as the account above!
But I digress a wee bit from the focus of my intentions. I wish not to discuss in detail the transformation for which Saint Patrick is directly responsible for, but the net effect of the transformation. Clearly Saint Patrick and others were a medium that permitted the Irish people to find their own. And they most certainly did … I might recommend Thomas Cahill’s book, How the Irish Saved Civilization and any writings of and by Saint Columba, if you might be so inclined to ferret out the Irish in your blood. And if you are as hardcore as me, stop by Trinity College in Dublin and explore the Book of Kells while asking who wrote this and why. Beware, catching up on Irish history will take about 1300 years or so.
So fast forward … let’s forget the Vikings as we all know they were a bunch of pussies, just look at them today (they have been reduced to a crappy show on cable TV). I have never seen Team Viking at the Olympics and I don’t have any of their currency in my expansive paper money collection, therefore they are kind of like the Egyptians and Romans … they could not hack it, never held or controlled Ireland and they imploded … so on the next bad ass civilization … the Irish!
As proud as I am to be an American I am equally (or perhaps more) proud to be Irish. From a historical point of view the contributions of the Irish here in the Unites States are immeasurable. The influence of the Irish in and on everything we call American cannot be overstated and or discounted and that influence is found in and evidenced by: culture; song; dance; politics; engineering; humor; science; literature; medicine; food and beverage; arts; and faith … to name just the obvious.
From a personal point of view I come from a long line of Irish freedom fighters with wins under the belt … the Romans never constructed roads or harnessed my forefathers water (nor did they successfully assault my cousins in Scotland) and the Vikings as previously discussed left after a good ole’ Irish shin kickin’ contest. But the British did finally take hold of the land that produced me. It was during this time the Irish knew for the betterment of their culture and ways two things must happen … learn to fight and … leave to populate the world!
The birth of the modern Irish freedom fighter began when Britain took hold of Ireland and this battle had been raging for hundreds of years. The height of this battle was in early 1900’s. Ireland sought independence from England and the Easter Rising of 1916 was the tactical and ceremonial beginning of the end of the British dominance in Ireland, the rising was put down in Dublin by the British but by 1919 an aggressive commander with new tactics was leading the fight. Michael Collins (the Big Fella) employed a new army of plain clothes young and skilled marksman, spies and logistics experts. This was the Irish Republican Army (IRA) aided by the Irish Volunteers. His intelligence network was vast and the British were essentially defeated by Collins’ use of guerrilla warfare tactics in combination with exploitation of intelligence gathered by his network.
The most famous operation of Collins was the takedown of the “Cairo Gang” (British) by the “Squad” (Irish). This action in and of itself was perhaps the most important single act of violence and dominance over the British in Irish history. My grandfather was there as a participant. He was a freedom fighter … a Collins man. Many men have claimed to have been a member of the “Squad” or the “Twelve Apostles”, however a tall thin 24 year old Dubliner at the advanced rank of SGT MAJ marched out of Beggars Bush (the site of the British Surrender) in full uniform, as one of the first members of the Dublin Guard, bound for Kenmare, County Cork in February 1922 just weeks after the British surrender. Cork would see much of the brutality of the Irish Civil War. The Irish War of Independence had been won and now a civil war raged.
My grandfather returned to Dublin shortly after Michael Collins was assassinated and took part in his funeral. Family lore suggests my grandfather was a pole bearer and much photographic evidence exists to prove is it more than just lore. Perhaps my grandfather’s grave site speaks to how close he was to Collins in life … the Irish freedom fighters are all buried together in the same area of Glasnevin Cemetery in Dublin.
After the civil war waned and life turned to building a new nation, my grandfather married a woman from Cork who had delivered a secret message (presumably from Collins’ command in Dublin) to him while he was in charge of the Free State Army post at Park Hotel in Kenmare. They raised a family of nine children in the East Wall of Dublin. As a new nation and neutral country, Ireland was at a serious disadvantage throughout the Great Depression and World War II. During WWII, my father at one time was the only person in the household who worked while he maintained a prestigious position in the Saint John’s Ambulance Brigade. He was an entrepreneur and often made additional money for his parents, brothers and sisters by selling butter, eggs and milk to German U-Boat crews that required provisioning. The crews entered Dublin harbor at night and sent rubber craft pier side for such provisions. Don’t be alarmed, the Irish were not on the German’s side … they were neutral and hungry. Ireland received little or no support from England and or the United States during WWII. In addition, England sabotaged Ireland’s ability to provide any material support (to anyone) just the same. The sale of horse manure to the ladies of Baggott Street for their flower beds and vegetable gardens was another business venture that brought money home.
After the WWII my father landed a job in the flour mill in the East Wall (the mill is still in operation today). Again, my father was the only working soul of the family … he was determined to help his family yet he was set on moving to New York City. One day in 1946 while gaining access to the third deck by way of a step conveyor elevator, my father was seriously injured when the entire conveyor chain of three decks fell down and crushed him. Rushed to the hospital and given excellent treatment due to his membership in the Saint John’s Ambulance Brigade, he was visited several days later by the plant management and offered many thousands of dollars to settle and he was also offered job for life. My father refused and told them that when the ambulance took him away from the mill on the day of the accident his father was standing in line waiting for a job to open up. My father countered … “give my father a job for life, he deserves it.” My grandfather retired from the plant shortly before he died in 1980.
My father arrived in New York City in 1946 and immediately started a business and when Korea broke out … he was all in … Army of the United States, two years in Korea freedom fighting, an additional six years in the IRR for your new country and US citizenship was almost guaranteed. Of course back then citizenship was not easy. You had to complete rigorous rounds of interviews, courses and each candidate actually had to know and understand American history, civics, politics and patriotic songs before being granted citizenship. My father served with the 13th Combat Engineers Battalion, 7th Infantry Division and alongside the Ethiopian Kagnew Battalion. My father was lucky to have returned. After the war my father met a woman from Dublin who was visiting New York on vacation, the year was 1956 and my father was the president of the Dublin Society of New York. My parents met at the 1956 Dublin Society Annual Dinner Dance that my father was presiding over and the guest of honor was Ron Delany (Irish Olympic Gold Medalist – 1500 meter).
My parents had seven children, I am the third born. Through my parent’s involvement in the Irish community, time spent with our Irish relatives and my father’s rise in to the top of his chosen profession, our parents gave us all the tools, education and opportunities that they never would have had if they had stayed in Ireland … we always remained connected to our roots and blood. Today, although my dear mother and father are gone, each of my siblings can lament no doubt, for without being Irish, including all the character traits that are inherent and with the examples of our grandfather and father … our existence and success would have been perhaps just a dream.
I followed the example of my grandfather and my father. In 1979 I joined the US Navy knowing that if I learned to follow and lead, worked hard and did my best all that life had to offer would be attainable. The lessons of my Irish forefathers have served me well. In, 2011 I retired from the US Navy with over 32 years continual service (active and reserve). I was a skilled engineer (former Boiler Technician), damn good leader, have been there and done that, have been initiated a Genuine Chief Petty Officer, and most importantly I have never walked away from a fight. The Irish are not wired that way, in fact they are wired to move toward the fight and protect those less equipped or to conduct battle for a higher purpose. This trait serves me well as I rise today!
This Master Chief Petty Officer is marching again in the New York City Saint Patrick’s Parade with renewed spirit and knowledge that even in retirement life delivers opportunities to protect and fight. Kilted in the Irish National Tartan will be the uniform of the day and this Irishman will be marching with the Dublin Society of New York an organization my father presided over 60 years ago. The New York City St. Patrick’s Parade is the oldest and largest St. Patrick’s Day Parade in the world. The first parade was held on March 17, 1762 … fourteen years before the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
This year is an important one as the Irish celebrate the 100th anniversary of the establishment of the Provisional Irish Government and the Easter Rising that my grandfather fought in. Ireland’s declaration of independence is found above and was modelled after our own Declaration of Independence of July 4th 1776.
My verbal sojourn is done for now, but before I go and march please read the words of Saint Patrick:
The Prayer of St. Patrick
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God’s strength to pilot me;
God’s might to uphold me,
God’s wisdom to guide me,
God’s eye to look before me,
God’s ear to hear me,
God’s word to speak for me,
God’s hand to guard me,
God’s way to lie before me,
God’s shield to protect me,
God’s hosts to save me
Afar and anear,
Alone or in a multitude.

Christ shield me today
Against wounding
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through the mighty strength
Of the Lord of creation.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day,
MCPO Terence B. Hoey, USN (Ret.)
New York City

A retired Special Forces NCO I served with back in the early sixties in the 101st Airborne, as infantry grunts, sent this poignant reminder of Christmas and New Year’s dinners of the past. Even if you weren’t deployed, a holiday dinner in the mess hall, served on a scarred metal tray, was nothing to write home about. When I opened his email, I just sat here for several minutes looking at those familiar images from my long-ago service, particularly my 1965 Christmas in Vietnam, and thinking how fortunate I was that such a holiday meal wasn’t my last as it was for so many of my fellow troopers and all the others who have made the supreme sacrifice for this country. And those of us who made it back can assure you that there is no lonelier time on a deployment than Christmas day.

I’m thinking this should be made into a Christmas card and sent to all our friends and family members who’ve never had the opportunity to have such a holiday repast, particularly the military-loathing liberals among them, to remind them of the grim reality of what it is we ask of our young warriors.

Crossposted at American Thinker