“A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…”
By Jim Kuiken
As many of you know (and a lot of you may not), I spent a good portion of my 30-year Marine Corps career in Battalion Reconnaissance (Bn. Recon) and Force Reconnaissance (Force Recon), as well as a few other “special operations” units (ANGLICO, USMC Civil Affairs, etc.).
Suffice it to say that my career (and most of my deployments) did not follow a “traditional” career path in the Marine Corps. Don’t get me wrong…I wouldn’t have had it any other way! The reason I was in those positions for so long was because I absolutely loved it, and I was good at what I did.
It all started a long, long time ago… Back in the early ‘70’s, I was “tasked” for a special assignment, which ended up exposing me to the world of special operations, and I decided that I wanted to do that full-time. When I returned to the United States in 1975, I immediately started bugging my commanders to transfer me to 1st Recon Battalion, and after some wrangling, I was transferred over.
But that’s not how I got into Recon. That’s how I got into the Unit…but not how I got into operations. Before it was a primary “Military Occupational Specialty”, Recon was a secondary MOS (i.e., not permanent)…and before there was a Marine Corps Reconnaissance Training Company, there was RIP…Reconnaissance Indoctrination Program. It wasn’t a formal school like now, it was run by the battalion, and was somewhat akin to today’s Basic Reconnaissance Primer Course (BRPC) – but since it was locally designed and run, there was a lot more flexibility. (i.e., you had to get past them to get in…).
RIP started out with a series of tests, and if you passed all of them, along with an instructor critique and a peer evaluation…then you were moved forward into the training phase…again, having to pass all the training, and another instructor critique and peer evaluation. After all that, if you passed, you were finally brought on as a candidate, and sent to Amphibious Reconnaissance School (which no longer exists…it is akin to the current Basic Reconnaissance Course).
Suffice it to say, it was a tough hurdle to pass. And it all started out with one test…“The Rock”.
I didn’t really understand the test (I thought I did…but I found out much later, when I ended up running the RIP program for 1st Recon Bn.) that it wasn’t at all what I thought it was. And trust me, they didn’t explain anything. Part of the test was to see if you would just do as you were told, without hesitation, without questions. But we didn’t even know that…
They took us out one at a time to the beach, close to “Las Flores”, one of the many small “camps” that house various units on Marine Corps Base (MCB) Camp Pendleton. 1st Recon Bn. was housed there on Las Flores (before they got kicked out in 1976 and sent to Camp Talega, all the way in the back of Camp Pendleton, away from everyone else...but that’s another Frontline Tale, for another time… ;)
They took us out one at a time, over a two-day period, for “The Rock”. Since I was a Sergeant at the time, the highest ranking “tadpole” there, I had the honor of being woken up at 0400 (4am) on the first day, and hustled out to the beach. (they rode in a jeep, I ran alongside).
When we got there, I got a quick drink from a canteen, then they had me strip off my t-shirt, so I was wearing my boots and utility trousers, with no shirt. When I was ready, they backed the jeep up to the water’s edge, and dumped a big, perfectly round granite rock off into the surf. It was about the size of a small beach ball, was painted shiny black (which made it slick when wet), with a white skull and crossbones (with three painted bullet holes in the skull’s forehead).
As they pulled the jeep back up onto the packed area of sand, they told me to go over and pick up The Rock. I’ve never been one of these big hulking type guys…and at that time, was 5’8” and a massive 130 pounds…wet. That d@mn rock was heavy!!! And hard to pick up. And hard to hold on to…
When I finally muscled it up, and was holding it with both my hands on the bottom with my arms wrapped around it, they pointed south, and said “Stay in the water, half-way between your ankles and your knees, and run”. They didn’t say how far, or anything else, so I started running (if you can call a slog through mid-calf deep surf with boots and trousers, holding a very heavy, slick round rock “running”…) as fast as I could. They paced me in the jeep, and said nothing, as the sun topped the horizon and started to rise.
I don’t know how far I ran, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so I just kept running until I basically passed out and fell into the surf, vomiting.
Evidently they pulled me out, because I came to in the jeep on the way back. They still said nothing until we got back to Las Flores, and then they said “Get out. Don’t say anything about the test. Send out the next one, then get cleaned up and grab chow. Someone will come get you in an hour.” The rest was history! I finished my RIP a few weeks later (doing a few hundred Recon pushups, ridge-runs, surf ops, and a whole bunch of other stuff along the way), and was on my way to Amphib Recon School.
That all sounds like a bunch of macho tuff-guy stuff, but a lot of folks who ran a lot farther than me never made it. Several of them never made it past The Rock…
Only when I finally took over as the SNCOIC (guy in charge…) of 1st Recon RIP, and studied the curriculum did I finally understand. It wasn’t about how far you ran, or how fast. It wasn’t a physical test at all! Those who gave it all, went as far as they could before their body just quit on them, those who asked no questions, just did…were the ones who passed. One of the guys who ran farther than anyone else, but ended just stopping and throwing the rock down was gone that day.
It was about if you quit.
They could make you stronger, they could teach you what you needed to know, and you would practice (ad nauseam), until everything you needed to do was deeply ingrained…but they could not teach you to “Never quit, never stop, never give in…” That was all you.
We ended up re-vamping and modernizing the RIP curriculum after I took over – but we kept
Tempering the Blade
By Jim Kuiken
Adversity sucks. Hard times, desperation, worry, heartache, pain and suffering. Why does the other guy have it better than me / my family, etc? Some people just glide through life without a care, everything always goes well for them – finances, “power and privilege” …
Frankly, I don’t give a $#!+ about how well others have it. As long as they came by it legally, good for them! I don’t care one way or another about those who are doing well. It has nothing to do with me or mine – and I don’t ascribe to the idiocy of envy, jealousy or coveting – or of taking away from those who “have” to give to those who don’t.
What I do care about is those who don’t have, those who struggle. But I don’t believe in giving them someone else’s money, property, or success. I do believe in helping them find opportunity to make it on their own, with their own drive, determination and guts.
Like many of you, I know what it is to struggle. I’ve been to the top, back to the bottom, and back to the top (and back to the bottom) many times in my life. And I’ll bet many people who appear to have it all together actually have too. I’m always careful of assuming, because you never know what struggles (external or internal) that others have or are going through.
When I say that, most people assume (there’s that word again…) that what I’m talking about when I mention my own background is the 30 years as a combat Marine, my time as a Firefighter/EMT-A, and my time as a Law Enforcement Officer / Agent (LEO). Yeah, I’ve seen some rough times there, in some very bad places, losing some friends in very bad places, and seeing the heartache and depravity that only Firefighters and LEO’s see.
But very few people know of some of the personal (external) struggles I’ve seen. Many have seen much worse, but these were just a few of mine.
The first time I got divorced, I had to walk away from my two young children (I still saw them, but I didn’t live with them anymore), and took my 12-foot camp trailer out to Gowan Field (the military reserve center behind the airport in Boise Idaho), where I parked it behind the USMC Reserve Center…in the winter… It was a very small trailer with no bathroom, a small sink and a bed, and not much else. I ran an extension cord and a hose into the back window of the reserve center for water and heat, and when I needed to use the restroom, I went inside the Center (which had anti-freeze in the toilet water to keep it from freezing), and stood in the deep sink (cold water only) to take a “bath”… And I had one box of canned goods, my clothes in trash bags, and my bicycle. It was a rough couple of months, especially since I had just lost my job as well.
After a while, a friend (and fellow Marine) took me in to his house (then a mobile home, when he lost the house because he also lost his job), and we scraped along. I even ended up standing in line at the food bank (for a big 5lb block of cheese, a large bag of flour, a box of powdered milk, and some salt) to get by when we ran out of food! Can you say biscuits and white gravy with sprinkled cheese, and some really watery “milk”? Kept us going for a while!
We both found jobs after a couple of months of searching, and things finally turned around! Life went on…until my second divorce.
Back in the 12-foot trailer behind the reserve center, one box of canned goods, my clothes in bags, and my bicycle. And someone stole my bicycle.
And life went on. I worked my way up (and had a few more deployments), and ended up back in law enforcement (Federal this time), as well as continuing my military (reserve by this time) career, and look how things turned out!
Adversity. Is it a bad thing? It’s rough, I’ll give you that…but is it bad? I actually pity those who have had perfectly smooth sailing. Many of them never learned the tough lessons, or how to stand on their own hind legs.
Adversity “makes (wo)men better or bitter”.
Adversity “separates friends, into the good ones or the bad ones”. Did they cut and run or walk away…or did they step up and stand by you? I know I had a bunch of the first, and a precious (and I mean that literally) few, who I can name. Who were there regardless of other’s opinions, or anything else. They stood firm.
Adversity is the true test of “(wo)men, friends, and family”. (and teams, and leaders!)
Do you know how to make a great sword? (yeah, I know…another example of one of Kuiken’s “linear” thought patterns…) Sorry! (not sorry…)
There are two extremes of swords. There is the stamped, molded or cold-pressed sword. It looks very nice, and is good to hang on the wall – but the first time you hit anything with it, it shatters, bends or breaks. It’s all flash, no fury.
And then there is the Katana (Samurai sword). I know there are a lot of great swords out there, but this one is my example
It is fired and beaten flat, then folded back on itself, put into the fire, and beaten flat again. And it is done all over again. And again – many times. These blades are so strong and perfect, that many of them last for hundreds of years, handed down through families for centuries – and are still strong and sharp.
It is the tempering, the careful beating into shape without breaking, and repeating this over and over that gives the weapon its shape and durability.
Adversity. Celebrate it, embrace it! It will tell you about yourself, your friends and colleagues, and those you hold the closest. It will separate out the chaff and the wheat. And it will strengthen you or break you…a lot depends on you and how you view it. And when it gets to be too much, talk to someone. Consider them part of tempering, and keeping you from breaking. It can only make you stronger.
The 80% Solution
By Jim Kuiken
Everyone is faced with choices. Personal choices. Professional choices. Political choices. Quality of life choices. There is no end to choices…marketers, media, and others make sure of that.
Everything from which brand of toothpaste, to who to elect, to family issues, etc. There is literally (and I mean that literally – not, like, literally…gum pop eye roll) no end to choices. You can get completely overwhelmed. I know I do. Frequently.
Lots of choices are important personally, and a few have very serious consequences. Like those that face military personnel in combat, first responders (law enforcement, firefighters, emergency medical personnel), etc. Luckily (more likely, by design), there are procedures, laws, ethics and an organizational ethos in place to guide those life and death decisions, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.
And I’m not talking about good/bad, right/wrong decisions. Those should be guided by a person’s ethics and morality (and/or religious beliefs). Legal and illegal are guided by the (current) law…and they change with the laws as they are overturned, added or changed.
I’m talking about all the life choices we face every day, some easy, some not. I’ll tell you about some of mine in a minute…but how do we make all those choices without going nuts?
Something an old Marine Gunny told me one time sure helped me…and it is the method a large majority of those who need to make important decisions use every day.
You can get stuck in the endless loop of what-if’s, indecision, and what is frequently called “analysis paralysis”. Over-thinking. Continuously searching for “ALL” the information, rather than the 80% of the best available information. Assuming hidden meanings or motives in everything, etc.
Sometimes things are just what they look like they are, and sometimes they’re not. I’m not saying take everything at face value, but a lot of the time you just have to make decisions on what you can see, or the best information you have.
It’s called the 80% solution. Do the best you can to make a decision, but don’t keep second-guessing. Sometimes you just have to come up with a solution, and move on. It isn’t always perfect (actually, it very rarely is), but you have to decide, and then act on that decision, letting go of all the what-if’s.
If it turns out to be a bad decision, then recognize it, own it (and if necessary, apologize for it), correct it, learn from it, and move on! Don’t sit there beating yourself up over a bad decision, as long as it was made with the best information you had, and with good intent.
Ok, enough pontificating…as I promised, here are some choices I face or have faced.
Health choices…do I get up every morning at 5am, stick to my 6 times a day eating schedule (5:30am pre-workout, 8:30am post-workout, 11:30am lunch, 3:00pm mid-day, 6:00pm dinner, and 9:00pm pre-bedtime), my workout schedule (Mon-Sat from 6:15 – 8:00am), and start work (writing) at 9:00am every week day?
Trust me, that’s a day by day, and oftentimes hour by hour decision…and it doesn’t always work out well… But I face that decision every single day (and often, several times a day).
Quality of life decisions, like;
Do I do something for myself, something I enjoy on a weekly or daily basis? Do I go out in the morning and sit in my tree stand with a thermos of coffee just before sunrise (usually on a Sunday), and relax into the peace and quiet, as the cool breeze gently rustles the leaves, the sun just starts to rise behind the horizon, and the birds slowly start to wake up and tentatively start to chirp?
Well, no. I haven’t done things for myself in a couple of years at least. But I made a big decision – to start doing those things again. Like every other Friday, take the day off and go hit some golf balls, or head out to the range for some trigger time, or take Freedom and my kayak and head over to the local lake for some peaceful gliding through the water looking at the geese, etc.
Family decisions. Do I push to reestablish closer ties with my family that I had let lapse in the push of all-important business, geographical distance, “schedules and obligations”, etc…? (not to mention, the pervasive effects of PTSd from my years of service as a combat Marine, a law enforcement officer, and a firefighter/EMT). Well, yes! And I have to keep that in the forefront, and focus on actually doing that, not backsliding into the pressing of the immediate over the important…
And my friends too…!
Do I start saying “No” more? Absolutely. See my post “Back on Track” from a couple of weeks ago. And I mean it!
Professional choices. Do I stick to my writing schedule, and actually complete this current book, stick with my articles and other writings, continue to advocate for military, veterans and first responders, etc.? That (the writing) takes a lot of discipline. And a decision to actually sit down every day and write – good or bad, something to keep or to tear up – it doesn’t matter. It’s the act of sitting down and writing that is important. Good will come, and cr@ppy will come, but it will be worth it.
What are some of your choices? Easy or hard, it doesn’t matter. It is the act of sitting down, thinking them through, and making decisions that will matter. You won’t stick to them all the time, and sometimes you will, but it will be worth it!
And please – as I am struggling to do – make some decisions to do something good for yourself, and hopefully for others! The ones for yourself will help you, and the ones for others will help the world.
Now, for some tree stand time…
Don’t Judge the Book…
By Jim Kuiken
So…there I was, a fairly junior, brand new “wet behind the ears” Border Patrol Agent, assigned to the Calexico California Station…
There’s always one thing that’s bugged the (bleep) outta me. People judging the book by its cover. Assuming since I’m whatever (not large, not overtly muscular, not assertive (that one’s a serious mis-judgement), etc., etc…) that I’m not capable, competent, etc.
This time, the general consensus was that I was a newbie. Ok, so I was – to the Border Patrol. However, I was previously a Recon Marine (Platoon Sergeant, when I left active duty), a multi-year Correctional Officer, SRT and SWAT member, Sheriff’s Deputy, Immigration Detention Officer (working with the Patrol), etc.
I get it that I had to learn all the Border Patrol stuff, but I wasn’t new to operating in austere environments in small teams, facing armed opponents (successfully), to law enforcement, or even to the Immigration and Naturalization Service.
However, I was junior – in rank, time in service, and several other ways – but I’ve never had a problem with starting at the bottom, earning my stripes, and learning the ropes. I actually like that!
In late 1989, I’d been around for a few months, and was starting to get a reputation for a real go-getter, so they had partnered me with “Jim”. He was a salty BP Agent, had been around the block, and had a penchant for getting into situations others might avoid as too “risky” – my kind of guy. We worked well together, and soon had that bond that comes from working closely in tight situations, and knowing that your partner has your back. He was one of those typical desert dwellers…skinny, burnt mahogany and wiry muscles. And he smoked like a chimney…
At this point, with the background laid out I’d like to say “It was a dark and stormy night”, but let’s get real. It’s Calexico California! It’s a desert environment, with a climate much like Baghdad, Iraq. It was a blazing hot (well over a 100 degrees), dry, dusty, eye-wateringly bright day, just before noon.
Jim wanted a sit-down lunch, and we were out in the sector we called the “west desert” (which should be an indicator…a desert within a desert), and there was really only one place out there. The Mount Signal Café, on the corner of Hwy 98 and Brockman Rd. We headed out there, ordered our ginormous Sweet Ice Teas, he ordered a cheeseburger, and I ordered the taco plate – their specialty.
Just like in the movies…as Jim took his first bite of greasy cheeseburger, and I had just picked up my first crispy (except where it was laying in the “salad” juice…) taco, the radios came alive. It was the spotter plane, so high up you couldn’t hear it or even know it was there unless you knew exactly where to look. He called a “group” (of illegal aliens) crossing just upstream from the “check” (a vehicle crossing over the All American Canal – which, although it was technically north of the US/Mexico border, was the functional equivalent of the border).
I could tell by the lazy drawl that it was Wayne Wa. I’d never met Wayne, but you could tell when he was on the radio. He sounded just like John Wayne in some of his old westerns! I could just see the hat tipped back on his head, and a piece of straw in the corner of his mouth. I didn’t know where he was from, but I was guessing somewhere in rural Texas.
“Thur crossin’ up yonder at thuh check by Mandrapa an’ Rockwood road. Looks like a load, thr’s a white van approachin’. Anyone available?”
Jim let him know where we were, and that we were responding, as we dropped our food, ran outside and jumped into our slightly beat up, heavily dusty Dodge Ram 4X4. With the windows down (you couldn’t put them up in the summer because the air conditioner would overheat and start a car fire), we spun a “doughnut” in the gravel parking lot, eating our own dust, and started down Brockman road, when Wayne told us to turn around, and head east (towards Calexico) on the 98, because they had just loaded up the van, and were headed north on Rockwood, towards 98.
We knew if they hit 98, they’d take a left and head west through the mountains, and come out on US 8 by Ocotillo, heading toward San Diego, so we had to cut them off. Jim stood on the gas, and we shot down to Rockwood, turning south towards the border, and both vehicles saw each other at the same time.
We were heading south and they were heading north, when they cut a hard right turn onto Anza Road, heading back towards Calexico. At that rate of speed, if they hit town, folks could be seriously hurt or killed…so we had to stop them before they got close. I got on the radio and called ahead, and several BP vehicles started out from the Calexico Station headed towards us, hoping to get there before they entered town.
As we were getting close to town, we came up on a sharp left turn in the road, and we were afraid the van would lose it and roll, but he cut another sharp right off the road onto a small dirt road beside the cement canal, headed back towards Mexico. In a deliberate act, he veered left and crashed into the cement buttress at the head of the small canal, knowing we would stop and take care of the injured, and he could make it back to the border canal, just yards away…and escape.
Jim cranked the wheel over, and we stopped just inches from the van as I flung open the passenger door, and thoroughly pissed at the driver for endangering a van full of people (a couple of who were pregnant mothers with children, as we learned later), took off after him at full speed. I knew other BP vehicles were arriving, and that they would be helping those in the van.
As I came around the front of the van at a full-speed run, I dove into a flying tackle, hitting him mid-body, and we both went off into the cement ditch, slamming down with me on top of him. As I put the cuffs on him he looked up, and there was Jim, on the other side of the canal looking down with a grin, holding the shotgun to cover me if it had been needed.
I remember hearing “Was that yeu “Kaken”? Damn, that was a hell of a tackle!”, as Wayne started to laugh, and signed off.
After all that got settled out, I got called up to Sector Headquarters in El Centro a couple of days later. Some of the bosses wanted to see who I was, and give me a pat on the back for stopping the guy who didn’t show any human regard for his “cargo”, including the two pregnant women, when he deliberately crashed that van so he could get away.
While I was up there I got a tour, and as I was leaving, I saw a small Asian (turned out to be Chinese) man in a green flight suit walking towards me. As he got close, he smiled, stuck out his hand and said “Yeu Kaken? Dam, boy, that was some (bleep) down thr thuh othur day, wadnit?”
I just stood there for a second, frozen. What my eyes were seeing didn’t match with what my ears were hearing. A small Asian man with John Wayne’s voice!! My brain disconnected, unable to process… I managed to stammer out “yes Sir, it was some (bleep) alright!”
He gave my hand a final squeeze and smiled…and then (I’m not making this up), with his left hand he stuck the stub of a chewed cigar back in his mouth, said “Good on ‘ya boy!”, and clapped me on the back as he turned and headed back down the hallway. I just stood there watching his swagger as he went out the door. It finally connected that I had just met “John” Wayne Wa…
Turns out his family had immigrated, and he had grown up watching John Wayne movies, always wanting to be like him…and had legally changed his first name to Wayne…
And I had been irritated at others who had assumed things about me. Talk about misjudging a book by its cover! A small Chinese cowboy flying a US Border Patrol plane high over a desert by the Mexican border – doesn’t get any better than that!
By Jim Kuiken
OBE. That’s the term we used in the military… “Overtaken By Events”.
That might be valid in the military, law enforcement, the fire service or emergency medical services – but in pretty much every other endeavor (especially something like writing), it sounds more like a weak excuse.
Oh, and also in the military, we used to say “Excuses are like (bleep). Everyone has one, and they all stink”. Which would lead someone to try to get around giving an excuse by saying “it’s not an excuse, it’s an explanation!” The theory there was to excuse the excuse…or to take responsibility for the lack of mission accomplishment by “taking full responsibility”, but then tempering it with an explanation of how “events” got in the way, and it wasn’t really your fault for not doing whatever it was that you were supposed to have done.
Well…I “fell off the bandwagon” of writing, both in my weekly blog posts and updates, and in working on my current book. I was “overtaken by events”. Not an excuse, but an explanation! (yeah, right Kuiken...sounds like an excuse to me…)
I actually did have a lot of really important events and obligations that took up the time, but that’s just an excuse (which I’ll cover later – including the “fix” for that, so it doesn’t happen again).
The actual events and obligations (i.e., the “explanation” for the derailment) were as follows:
So much for the “explanation” (i.e., thinly veiled excuse…). Sure, I was busy, but that is no excuse for not keeping up with my writing. There were a few ones in there that would have interfered, like the weeks up on the Hill. When we’re walking from office to office all day, seeing up to 8-10 Members or their staffs each day, there is literally no time to do anything else.
However, during those weeks where I was on trips…I can’t say with a straight face that I couldn’t have found a couple of spare hours per week to write the weekly posts and updates. And probably work on a chapter or two in the book.
But I finally realized the BIG problem that was in my way (besides just not “doing the work”). It all hit me square in the face when I read this outstanding article by Robert Glazer. To Be Successful You Need to Say No Often.
I already knew this, several times over. From my Marine training. From my Dale Carnegie training in the 80’s. From numerous other sources over the years. I just let it slip back. I just have a hard time saying No!
It’s the old adage. “If you want something done, ask a busy person.” I have always been a busy person, and I’ve always had people asking me to help, to do stuff. And I keep doing it.
I did it so much, that I stopped doing my stuff!! Well, guess what. That stops now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to drop the ball…but I AM going to shift what I do for people so I phase myself out of being needed. Like reorganizing MVA so it is a growing, self-sustaining successful organization that doesn’t need me anymore!
I’m going to say no – often. And I’m going to focus back on what I need to do, for my writing, my personal life, and my family. Life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer to the end you get, the faster it goes…and I don’t intend to turn into an empty cardboard roll before I get back on track!
Animal or Human…
By Jim Kuiken
Lots of folks are animal lovers. I just happen to be one of their biggest fans (animals…not the “lots of folks”). I LOVE animals!
I will admit to being prejudiced though…I love all animals, but tend to have a preference for mammals. So I’m a bigot, sue me. (or you can always read one of my, and lots of other folks’ favorite previous posts, “That’s Offensive”).
There are many people who don’t like animals, or are cruel to them. Don’t you wish they could all just be as loving and gentle as animals?
Now don’t get me wrong here…I do not condone animal cruelty (nor will I put up with anyone in my presence who is cruel or mean to animals)…but…
Animals are animals. They can be gentle and loving to their families, and yes, animals (particularly mammals…there goes my prejudice…) do feel love, tenderness and kindness.
And fear. And anger, petulance, and many other emotions. And they can be terribly cruel – sort of.
I’m not sure they feel cruelty, like many humans do. They don’t necessarily get their food from the supermarket…so in most of the world, animals have to get their own food, and many times that means killing other animals. Is that cruel? Well, if you’re the one being killed…yeah! But if you’re the baby they’re bringing the food home to…no.
Most of the time, animals do things that seem cruel to us because that’s their instinct. Cats play with mice. Dogs (like Freedom) love to chase squirrels. All kinds of animals do all kinds of things because of their instincts.
But people… People do some horrendous things, to each other, to animals, etc., because they are unthinking, or mentally deranged, or just evil, cruel people who take pleasure in their cruelty. Sometimes they even believe it’s “justified”, like the trolls and idiots who spew hate and filth on social media, in crowds or other “safe” anonymous venues, or when they think no one can see them.
Horse $#!+. It’s not justified. It’s not “normal”. I don’t care how many other people are doing it, it is not “ok”. And no, politics is not an excuse to be a jack@$$ either. Be civil.
And if you think it makes you look tough, that’s a load of cr@p too. I personally know some of the toughest people on this planet…and to a person, they have big, loving hearts. They’re tough because they don’t hesitate to step up, often at the risk of their own lives, to protect, not to victimize or bully – and they don’t back down. Ever.
I know someone is going to point out my stance on hunting and fishing as cruel. Yes, I do believe that hunting and fishing is a good thing, because it’s a way of bringing food to the family table, and hunting and fishing are regulated and taxed, which is used to improve the overall health of the herd or school by managing the population.
I do not trophy hunt or fish…I only hunt or fish for food that we’re going to eat. Others have other opinions, and that is fine. They have a right to their opinions…as long as it’s legal and not wasteful or designed to be deliberately cruel. I’ve been asked why I don’t just get all my food from the supermarket… (many of you will see the irony here, but some won’t, and that’s ok too).
I grew up with pets. I worked on my uncle’s dairy farm. I brought home lost, abandoned, and hurt animals all my life, both in my childhood (just ask my parents…), and as an adult. I love “Animal Planet” and other Discovery Channel programs with animals in them. I’ve been around, and in love with animals all my life.
And as a career military man, a law enforcement professional, and former firefighter / EMT-A (my absolute favorite job, by the way…), I’ve seen a lot of people, in good and bad situations. My goal (and the goal of those I worked with) was to protect those in need, and serve (my community, my country, and those people that I could).
So, animal or human? I tend to like them both…especially animals. They tend to be more humane…
Endeavor to Persevere…
By Jim Kuiken
Well, it’s that time. I do a lot of things (just ask anyone…especially those “friends” who call me the Energizer Bunny…). I write (books, blogs, articles, etc.), I work out, I help organizations (veteran / first responder) fundraise, I do speaking engagements (Leadership through adversity, building winning teams, etc.). And I work on behalf of those who risk all, and suffer the consequences of their service for all of us. (Military, Veterans, Law Enforcement, Firefighters, EMS, etc., and their families).
All of these things are in service to and recognition of those who serve and protect us. That is where my life has brought me, and that is my purpose.
So a new year kicked off (I know, that was a blatant reference to last week’s post), and with the new year comes new and renewed effort to effect change. This year, like last, I’m focusing hard on helping some of our Veterans – specifically those who were contaminated by toxic exposures through their service to this Nation, as well as those who are still fighting with the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) to receive benefits they are entitled to…that they earned.
Last year I joined forces with Military Veterans Advocacy (MVA). There are a LOT of Veteran Service Organizations (VSO’s) and other non-profit organizations that do everything from providing Service Dogs, to helping families of the fallen pay off their mortgage, suicide prevention, assisting with housing, and offering support in all sorts of ways.
MVA is a bit different. Basically, they write draft Bills and push legislation with Congress, trying to make the Dept. of Veterans Affairs take care of our veterans. To uphold the promise that was made to each of these servicemembers when they joined…that they would be taken care of if they suffered sickness, injury or death because of their service to the Nation.
When Bills don’t work, MVA takes them to court, and again, tries to make the VA do its job.
As an example, last year MVA drafted, supported and worked with many Representatives and Senators to pass H.R.299 - Blue Water Navy Vietnam Veterans Act of 2017, which was designed to RESTORE the presumptive exposure to Agent Orange benefits to those who served offshore during the Vietnam War…and who already had those benefits granted in the original bill in 1991, until they were stripped away by an administrative policy interpretation by the VA in 2002.
After HR-299 bill was passed in the House (382 – 0…yes, that’s right, by a unanimous, bi-partisan vote), it went to the Senate, where two (yes, just 2 out of 100) Senators put a “hold” on the bill in committee, effectively killing the bill. And the VA vociferously opposed the bill the entire time.
So, again, we’re moving forward this year with a re-drafted bill to try to restore the benefit that was stripped away by the VA, and make sure the 90,000+ (still surviving, with many fading fast) veterans affected get what they earned – care for the illnesses they incurred because of their service to our nation, during war.
BUT, we’re doubling down! Not only are we working on the Blue Water Vietnam Veterans bill to get their benefits back, we’re going after multiple Toxic Exposures for our Veterans!
Agent Orange / Herbicide exposure. (Vietnam era, but in multiple locations where it was used and stored throughout the Pacific and other areas).
Gulf War exposures. Radiological exposures. Asbestos exposures. Others…
And the big one that everyone’s talking about today – Burn Pits exposure, from Iraq and Afghanistan, and other areas (and times…because it’s not just a recent thing, we’ve had burn pits in many wars and areas in the past).
And court cases! Besides individual benefit cases, MVA pursues cases that have wide-reaching impact (for classes and groups of veterans), in the Court of Veteran’s Appeals all the way up to the Supreme Court of the United States!
I applaud all those organizations that help or support our veterans and first responders. Heck, I’m even developing a non-profit of my own to do just that.
But I’ve chosen to step up and take it to Congress and the Courts, to force the VA and the government to hold true to the promises that were made to our service men and women, and their families. We’re not asking for handouts. We (the servicemembers and veterans) paid our price up front. They stepped up when many step away, and put themselves and their families on the line, and many of them are suffering and dying because of that sacrifice.
Going after the government is a lot like tilting at windmills… But you can have an effect on government – and actually make it work! You just have to not take no for an answer.
Sometimes, waiting for your benefits isn’t enough. You have to “Endeavor to Persevere”.
Kickin’ Off the New Year
By Jim Kuiken
In another “Getting to Know You” post, let’s talk about “Call Signs”. A call sign, in this context, is a name given to a person in the military to identify them over the radio…or in the broader sense, a name given to a military person by his/her peers…which, especially if used in combat, sticks with them for the rest of their lives.
You don’t get to pick your own call sign. You don’t even have any say in what your call sign is – it is given to you by your peers, usually based on how badly you've screwed something up, a play on your name, your personality, or just the whims of a bunch of your peers or supposed “buddies”. Heeer’s yer sign…
And there are some real doozys…
Call signs are not to be confused with nicknames. I’ve had a few nicknames, also given to me by my “friends…” over the years. “Gunny Chunks” was when I went through SCUBA School in Coronado in the mid-80’s, as a Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant (E-7, “Gunny”) in Force Recon. Because I pushed myself so hard during all the physical “training”, that I threw up at the end of each session. “If you ain’t pukin’, you ain’t tryin’”.
Also, with my team in LA in the 90’s, when I was the Supervisory Special Agent in charge of “Special Investigations”. We’d go out on gang enforcement, high-risk warrant entries, etc. They (thinking I didn’t know…) called me the “Chihuahua”, because I never stopped, didn’t seem to notice that (almost everyone) was bigger than me, but still never backed down, etc. Yeah…real funny…
And there are false call signs and nicknames. Let’s talk about “Mad Dog” Mattis. That was NEVER General Mattis’ callsign or nickname. That was a tag the media gave him, and that is so far from the truth as to be insulting. He is NOT a mad dog…his actual nickname is “Warrior Monk”, because he is so well-read, thoughtful, educated, measured and deliberate in his every action. It is why his subordinates and “troops” all revere him. And yes, I call him General rather than Secretary, because General is so much more…
It’s like when I was the Dept. of Homeland Security Attaché to Iraq, and Country Director for DHS. As a Senior Executive (SES-6, a 4 Star equivalent rank) I was one of the senior diplomats at the embassy, but the Embassy Marines (and other Marines there) never called me “Director”, or Sir, or even Mr. Kuiken. They all called me Sergeant Major (my Marine Corps rank) – because they all considered that, and rightfully so – to be so much higher than a Diplomat, a Director or an SES…plus, I wasn’t exactly your average diplomat…
So – General Mattis’ nickname is Warrior Monk, but his callsign is CHAOS. Again, for reasons diametrically opposed to what the name implies. It actually stands for Colonel Has An Outstanding Solution, from when he was a regimental commander at Marine Corps Base 29 Palms. NEVER “Mad Dog”, an insulting media concoction.
As my friends all know, sometimes…ok…a lot of the time, I “take the long way around the barn”. So, Kuiken, what’s your callsign?
It’s Mongoose. I didn’t pick it, and actually had no say in it…and unfortunately, it was used in combat while I served in the Gulf War, in Bosnia, Kosovo, Enduring Freedom…and even while I served in a civilian capacity (DHS Attaché / Country Director) in Iraq, so it is permanent.
Like a lot of young military guys, especially special operations types (I was in Marine Recon at the time), I was heavily into all forms of combat arts, especially marksmanship (long-range precision shooting) and martial arts.
I’d been in martial arts since my junior high-school days, and at the time, held black belts in Gogu-Ryu (1st Dan), Hapkido (1st Dan), and TaeKwon-Do (3rd Dan)…and I liked to compete – especially in full-contact “Karate” matches…the precursor of today’s “UFC” matches, without the grappling. One of my favorite things to do was to, when I had time off and the funds to afford it, go up to Los Angeles (I was stationed in Camp Pendleton), and fight in Ed Parker’s Long Beach International Karate Championships. I got to meet some of the real heavyweights in the martial arts scene there, and get my butt kicked on a regular basis. What fun!
My style, like most things in my life, was unconventional. I had the “soft” techniques and Japanese/Okinawan hands, coupled with the “hard” Korean blocking/breaking techniques and kicks, and some of the evasive and offensive Hapkido techniques. And I moved.
On one of my trips up there, four of my buddies from 1st Recon Battalion decided to make it a trip, and all came up with me to enjoy the tournament, and to watch me fight. My fights were generally unspectacular for a bit, but then normally ended very quickly. I even got a review in one of the newspapers covering the event, and the reporter was listing the fighters, and commenting on each of their fights. When he got to me, the review was pretty short. It went something like “And then there’s Kuiken. Mediocre at best…until you hit him…”.
I don’t know why I needed that little bit of motivation, but it seemed to work for me. It got me fired up – and I loved it!
After the fight we all went to a Denny’s for hamburgers (double meat with an egg on it, and a chocolate milkshake for me), and they were all talking non-stop over each other. Seems they really liked the fights, and one of them said “D@mn Kuiken! You’re so ‘freaking’ fast!” (yes, I cleaned that up a bit) “You’re like a mongoose, teasing the snake and dancing around, but when it strikes, just taking it out! He never even saw what hit him!”
And there it was. They got all excited over milkshakes…and tagged me with “Mongoose”.
So…what’s yer sign?
“This, I will defend…”
By Jim Kuiken
I was talking with some friends last night over dinner, and they were asking about my writing – specifically, what I would be writing about in this week’s post. I wasn’t really sure, but after a short discussion, I said “Family”.
How apropos that turned out to be...with President George H.W. Bush’s funeral today, huh…? I always liked him. The servant-leader, gentleman, warrior/diplomat, staunch defender of decency, loyal to his friends, and deeply devoted to his family.
It only makes this week’s topic more poignant.
So…as with many of my articles, let’s set the baseline as to what I’m talking about when I say “family”.
The generally accepted meaning of family has something to do with a fairly homogenous nuclear family. Dad, Mom, 2.5 kids, and a dog.
Wow! That’s so not my family!! Nothing wrong with that, it’s just not mine.
My family consists of a hodgepodge of folks from all walks of life. First, my siblings.
I have one brother (from my mom and father, but we were raised by my mom and dad – who married my mom a few years after she and my father were divorced.)
I have three sisters…one from my mom (and dad), one from my father (and his wife), and one with no parents in common…
And I have a dog…my Freedom. Who everyone loves.
None of us (siblings) has 2.5 kids. A couple have 5, I have 3, one has one, and one has none. And the fun part is we are anything but homogeneous…if you base that on ancestry.
We’re all different, and a few of us have blends, but our family portrait looks like the United Nations. Between us, there are some that are Scottish, Native American, Dutch, African American, Lebanese, Korean, Mexican, Chinese, Filipino, Italian, and probably a few more I’m forgetting. And that’s just between my 3 (blood) siblings and our kids!
But…we ARE homogenous! We’re family. Period.
Some are hard left progressives / liberals, some are hard right conservatives, some are in the middle, and some are non-committal. Who friggin’ cares? We’re family. We may not agree, but we do so civilly. I enjoy some of the discussions, and always love my family, no matter what. And each and every one of them knows that if the $#!+ ever hits the fan, I’ll be there. Because I have been, every time.
That’s my immediate family. My extended family, through my dad (the Kuiken’s), my father (the Rose clan) and my in-laws (the Farías family) is quite extensive – but they’re still my family, and the same applies to all of them.
Family, to me, is kind of a concept more than blood. Don’t get me wrong, if someone’s related to me by blood, they’re family…but even if they’re not, they’re still family. My dad is a great example. Even though we’re not directly related by blood (we are, peripherally, through my oldest sister), he’s the one who raised us. Love trumps all, and he loves and is loved by us – as our dad. There are other relationships like that in my family, but that doesn’t make those relationships any less real or close than if we shared blood. It’s the relationship that makes family in my eyes, not the heritage.
I also have a larger family, in my friends. Some are brothers or sisters in arms, who have gone through things that bond us together closer than most will understand…and why many of us spend our time trying to help each other through those tough times.
To a lesser extent, that includes my community, where I spent many years in public service – because I felt that connection – as a firefighter / EMT-A, and as a local, State, and Federal law enforcement officer, serving, helping and protecting my community.
And in a broader sense, my country, as a combat-wounded veteran with a 30-year career in the Marine Corps, serving and protecting my country.
President G.H.W Bush epitomized family. He deeply loved his family, was loyal to his friends, and devoted to serving his country. Each of the eulogies at his funeral service all held a striking similar theme. Love and service. Self-sacrifice, and caring for others.
That is family. Immediate, extended, friends, community and country. Today we saw a brief glimpse of what it could be…if we treat each other as family. Disagree, discuss – even argue (civilly, without personal acrimony or hatred), but always remember to treat each other with respect.
I love my family (first, foremost, and always). I care for my community, and I love my country. I’m pretty easy-going about a lot of stuff…but not family.
And I will protect them to the last drop of blood in my body. As I’ve said before in my quotes, for those who don’t understand that…or me…
“I HATE violence, more than most, for I have seen it. But I will visit its full wrath upon you without blinking an eye if you attempt to harm me, my family, the innocent, or my country.”
Driving the Bus
By Jim Kuiken
I’ve talked about writing before. It’s an obsession. It’s a curse. When I’m in the groove, words and ideas just jump across the synapse between my brain and the computer screen (wow…just dated myself to myself…I almost said “paper”! How arcane!). When I’m off-track, I can sit and cogitate all day long, and get absolutely nothing written.
Besides the joy and agony of writing…there is one big question that picks at the brain of every writer who is or ever wants to be published.
What if people don’t like what I’m writing? What if everyone hates it? If it gets bad reviews…or worse…no reviews?
Who do I write for? Well, as my oft quoted old southern law instructor said (and yes, if you’ve read any of my blogs, you’re probably getting tired of hearing this)… “it depeyands”.
It’s important to know your audience. But that’s only one factor. It’s important if you’re trying to market a product, blog, book, story, etc. However, if you’re just trying to write, or you need to write (like some poor souls), then we’re back to the same big question.
Who do I write for?
As usual, I’m going to take the long way around the barn on this one…with a couple of brief stories.
When I was a youngster, just trying to break into federal law enforcement (I’d already been local and state law enforcement), I wanted to go into the Border Patrol. However, I was getting long in the tooth (fast approaching 35, the cut-off, back then, to be able to be hired as a federal law enforcement officer/agent), so I had to get in under the wire.
I was lucky enough to get hired as an Immigration Detention Officer (IDO) down in the San Diego Sector, at the San Ysidro Detention Facility. That got me in the system, and I got hired as a Border Patrol Agent about a year later…and turned 35 in the academy – and that is a whole ‘nuther story…
Anyway, as an IDO, one of the many things I had to do was to drive to the various Border Patrol stations in the District, pick up aliens who had been ordered deported or who had accepted a voluntary return (who were from Mexico…anyone from somewhere else had to be flown back to their own country), and drive them down to the Port of Entry, and send them back into Mexico through the port.
This meant that I had to not only drive vans, but had to drive a 72 passenger bus…like a Greyhound bus.
When I was going through the training, I mentioned to my trainer (who was also my boss) about my concern to make sure all my passengers were safe while I was driving them. I was surprised by his response.
He said “forget about them. Don’t think about their safety while you’re driving. Just think of driving safely, like you would as if you were alone in your own car. Thinking about them will only distract you. Just drive, and be safe in your driving, and they’ll all be ok.”
Wow! I had to think on that one a while…but he was absolutely right! When driving, drive for yourself, drive safely and be careful, and it will all turn out alright!
So, back to the question – and yes, I know that was a fairly transparent example, but it’s no less true. When you write, write for yourself. (except of course, if you’re doing technical writing for someone else, etc.) I don’t worry if someone else is going to like my writing or not. I write for me. If others like it, I’m honored (and generally surprised...). If they don’t…eh…
The good thing is that there are about 325.7 million people in the United States, approximately 1.2 billion English speaking people in the world (if you target English readers), and approximately 7.7 billion people in the world…so I’m sure you’ll find at least some folks will like your writing! And lots who won’t.
If they do, great! If they don’t, so what? As long as you like your writing, you’re doing it right!
If you’re trying to sell it…that’s a completely different discussion. See the list of some of my writing and publishing tips in the link above about where “I’ve talked about writing before”.
Don’t worry if you hit one of those points where you just stare at the (paper or) computer, and nothing happens. It happens all the time to the best of us.
And if you just really don’t know where to start, I can help you with that as well…