12/07/2007

A Tribute to Those Who Defended

PEARL HARBOR

And Were Awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor

December 7, 1941
Honor, Courage, Commitment

Mervyn Sharp Bennion

Captain, US Navy

Mortally wounded while defending USS Virginia.

John William Finn

Lieutenant, US Navy

Manned .50 caliber machine gun despite severe wounds.

Francis C. Flaherty

Ensign, US Naval Reserve

(Born in Michigan)

Died helping crew escape a capsizing USS Oklahoma.

Samuel Glenn Fuqua

Captain, US Navy

Remained on his ship despite explosion and fire until satisfied that all crew had been moved to safety.

Edwin Joseph Hill

Chief Boatswain, US Navy

Was killed in an explosion while attempting to remove anchors from the USS Nevada.

Herbert Charpoit Jones

Ensign, US Naval Reserve

Was mortally wounded while delivering additional antiaircraft ammunition.

Men attempted to rescue him while he was still conscious.

He refused--thinking of their safety.

Isaac Campbell Kidd

Rear Admiral, US Navy

Courageously led others from a position of danger and was killed in an explosion.

Jackson Charles Pharris

Lieutenant, US Navy

Retrieved shipmates from the USS California and kept the ammunition supply line open. Was rendered unconscious twice, but recovered and continued his work.

Thomas James Reeves

Radio Electrician, US Navy

Supplied ammunition by hand in the burning USS California. Died from smoke inhalation and exposure to fire.

Donald Kirby Ross

Machinist, US Navy

Forced shipmates to leave their post and manned it by himself despite smoke and blinding heat. Continued until found unconscious.

Robert R. Scott

Machinist's Mate First Class, US Navy

Refused to leave his assigned battle station.

Peter Tomich

Chief Watertender, US Navy

Lost his life ensuring all fire personnel escaped their post.

Franklin Van Valkenburgh

Captain, US Navy

Fought for his ship until he lost his life in an explosion.

James Richard Ward

Seaman First Class, US Navy

Assisted shipmates of USS Oklahoma by flashlight. Died doing so.

Cassin Young

Commander, US Navy

Was blown off his ship by an explosion. Swam back and proceeded to lead the effort to save his ship.

A dedication to those who exhibited the key qualities of the United States Navy:

You were honorable.
You were courageous.
You were committed.

I have a special connection to the United States Navy, and on this day I remember the seamen that set the standards for this branch of the military. Many of these men were responsible for saving countless lives. Many of them lost their own life.

Here is the newest chapter in Kyle's Navy saga:

Yesterday Kyle was to be 'classed up.' This means that he would return to normal training. Unbeknown st to the Navy, Kyle is still still waiting for a fractured wrist to heal. The strenuous training could have been detrimental to the healing of Kyle's wrist. But, remember how I was thinking about God's timing? Get this--Kyle ended up with severe food poisoning and has been medically ordered not to train for a week. Praise the Lord for food poisoning! It seems clear there is a greater plan than any of us could imagine...

11/12/2007

The Navy questioned his strength...but he looks quite healthy to me:

Nick gave me a wonderful gift this weekend: he watched Nathan and Nia so I could take a trip to Pensacola and visit Kyle! It is approximately an 8 1/2 hour drive from our place to the Navy base, but to make the trip seem less daunting, Kyle met me in Ocean Springs, Mississippi (just outside of the Biloxi/Gulfport area) on Friday night. We spent much of the morning on Saturday poking around in Gulfport--totally amazed by the destruction that remains two years post-Hurricane Katrina. It was evident that the storm washed away 'normality.' As we walked along the coast we found a spoon, a Janet Jackson tape, part of a vacuum, broken china dishes, a light fixture, a couch cushion, the head of a teddy bear, a ruined photo album, and an empty picture frame. Kids played there. Teens danced there. Families ate dinner there. Moms cleaned there. Friends played golf. The lawns were mowed. But now the coast seems rather void of 'life' and rather full of life's debris. It was sad...a little humbling, perhaps...to realize how quickly everything can be (literally) washed away. Kyle provided additional insight into the situation. He had walked the very same roads two years ago as part of the relief/restoration effort. That effort continues.

Kyle sits by what remains of a fireplace. Homey, don't you think?

I called these the 'stairs to nowhere'. The house on this property was missing, but the owners wanted to ensure that nothing happened to their pole barn.

The most common scene in Gulfport: buildings with destroyed main floors. Many houses would have been able to withstand the wind, but the flooding washed away buildings and severely damanged even the ones which remained standing.

In the afternoon we drove the remaining distance to Pensacola. A more appropriate name would be "Navy City", but no one asked me, and at this point, I think the name is rather established. Anyhow, Kyle showed me around the NAS (Naval Air Station...I think). What a beautiful place! The base is absolutely massive. We only explored the small section that Kyle calls home. I felt like the base had its own culture. All these people walking around in their various uniforms, maintaining the rather overdone military code (hats off in the library, no eating while walking, etc.), and speaking their very own language which includes words such as "muster," "NEX", "civies", etc. I'm not up to speed on base life, but I enjoyed my visit!

We went to the mall in Pensacola that evening. We walked around, stopped in a store every now and then, ate at Panera, and spent some time using the local wireless Internet to send some pictures to Dad and Mom. We were both totally exhausted that night and slept well!

Sunday was a short day together. I left Pensacola around 2pm so I would get home at a reasonable hour. In the morning Kyle drove us down to Pensacola beach (where I shot the video clip). The beaches are beautiful! White sand, aqua water, and not too many people! We ate lunch together at Applebee's and then said our goodbyes. I really hated to leave. We had a good time, and I remembered how much I miss living close to my brother. Maybe someday...

I'm going to try and sneak a nap in while the kids are sleeping. It's good to be home, too...I sure missed the 3 N's.

10/06/2007

We serve a God who excels in improbabilities. For example:

What are the chances that a man walks the plank in the middle of the ocean, during a storm, and is happened upon by an unusually large fish who prefers to swallow his prey whole? Then, the man is housed for several days by this fish. A bad case of stomach flu results in the reappearance of our carp-abiding friend. Likelihood? Not very good.

Fire is called down from heaven to light a water-drenched altar. Yeah, right.

Lazarus, definitely pronounced dead, would be raised to life again. Highly unlikely.

Some dirt from the ground + spit = a cure for blindness. I wouldn't stake MY eyesight on it.

A little boy brings a couple of salmon and a few loafs of french bread. What are the chances that his fare would feed a hungry multitude on a hillside and leave leftovers? Not a chance.

But, "with God all things are possible." And, from the looks of it, God kind of likes to step in just when, humanly speaking, "it can't be done." So, today, this is my encouragement for Kyle. Maybe it will encourage others, too.

Kyle is on medical hold until next week Tuesday. Because he has a history of growth hormone deficiency, the medical staff is concerned that he may have a weakened bone structure. The doctor Kyle spoke with most recently gave him an improbability:

10% chance that Kyle will be allowed to remain in special operations.

I have two thoughts. The first is: don't give up hope based on a statistic. God has never been bound by them. Jonah thought he was a dead man. Lazarus WAS a dead man. Didn't matter.

Secondly, isn't it encouraging when God steps into the midst of our circumstances and says, "You leave this to me." From where I'm sitting, I understand the discomfort that comes when we feel that suddenly we aren't in control. However, I also feel comfort knowing that the human ability to make a bad decision has been eliminated: at least on your part, Kyle. You literally have no part in making this decision. It is not a reflection of your attitude, performance, drive, or character. In some ways, this is an 'ideal predicament.'

Yesterday, in the car with my kids, I was praying for you, Kyle. As is often the case, my prayer turned to song. Here are some of words I sang:

"This is no time for fear. This is a time for faith and determination.
Don't lose the vision here, carried away by the motion.
Hold onto all that you hide in your heart. There is one thing that has always been true.
It will be true forever.

God is in control. We believe that his children will not be forsaken.
God is in control. We will choose to remember and never be shaken.
There is no power above or beside Him, we know, (oh) God is in control."

"...if there had never been a battle, how would I know the victory?
How would I know You could be faithful to meet all of my needs?
Lord, I appreciate the hard times. Otherwise, how would I know?"

"Oh, God, You are my God, and I will ever praise You.
And I will seek You in the morning. And I will learn to walk in Your ways.
And step by step You lead me, and I will follow You all of my days."

And lastly, a song Rich Mullins wrote for his son, Aiden. Kyle, you might not remember this, but at my High School Graduation Open House, I wrote a letter to you and included to words to this song. It was my prayer for you then. It is my prayer for you now. It is the prayer I pray for my children.

"Let mercy lead. Let love be the strength in your legs,
And in every footprint that you leave there will be a drop of grace.
If we can reach beyond the wisdom of this age into the foolishness of God that foolishness will save.
Those who believe, although their foolish hearts may break, they will find peace.
And I'll meet you in that place where mercy leads."

I know it's cliche, but I'm praying "God's best" for you life, Kyle. I love you and am immensely proud of you!

10/01/2007

Kyle David McNeil,

United States Navy

Search and Rescue

Graduated Friday, September 27, 2007

Great Lakes Naval Base

Great Lakes, IL

When did Kyle grow up? When did either of us transition from being kids to being adults? As I watched the Navy Graduation ceremony that took place last Friday, I looked into the faces of 597 new sailors and thought, "They're just kids--still babies--too young to die." The magnitude and significance of the event were overwhelming. The volume of the graduating class took my breath away. But really, from where I sat, there was only one sailor graduating that day: my sailor.

This post is really for Kyle, and my parents, and the rest of the family and friends who diligently prayed Kyle through boot camp. The challenges Kyle faced during his weeks at Great Lakes Naval Base affected him physically, spiritually, and emotionally. This post will be significant to those who loved on, prayed for, and wrote to Kyle during these past weeks. All of us 'graduated' that day, but to God goes the glory. The other folks who regularly read my blog are welcome to read this post, of course, but I write it particularly with McNeil and Durling prayer-warriors in mind.

The following picture depicts the most powerful moment in the entire graduation ceremony. Lots of pomp and circumstance accompanied the graduation, and we patiently watched video clips, observed a flag ceremony (and cheered when the Michigan flag was raised to acknowledge the home of our graduate), and listened to the Navy band. It was nice...professionally done, of course. However, all of this to-do dims in comparison with this moment:
A massive garage door stood on the wall directly opposite our seats. The announcer said something like, "And without further ado..." The garage door rose slowly revealing rows and rows of perfectly polished black boots marching in flawless cadence. As the door rose further, the sound became deafening, and the sun reflecting off the impeccable white uniforms was blinding. The first group of sailors came marching toward us, and the following words were heard from the announcer: "Division Three....Three....Three!" This was Kyle's division. They were the first to enter. I wish I could describe the roar that went up from the crowd. Personally, I experienced immediate and overwhelming pride. Indescribable pride. The kind of pride that makes you want to laugh, and cry, and run out onto the ceremony floor all at one time. I wish you all could have seen it. I'm sure words cannot possibly do justice to the moment.


All the sailors entered carrying their raincoats--see the black packages tucked under their arms? When they go outside in dress uniform, they are required to carry the raincoat with them. One of the first orders of business in the ceremony was to collect those raincoats and pile them neatly at the back of the auditorium. The division pictured below is #333, Kyle's division. Every single sailor in this division is part of Navy Special Operations. This was the most elite group graduating last Friday. Only about 15 of the sailors are in the same special operation that Kyle is: Search and Rescue. Division 333 won several awards for their performance which were announced midway through the ceremony.

The next picture is a video clip. It shows Division 333 as they march into their final position for the graduation ceremony. I love how crisp they look...they all march perfectly together in those amazing uniforms. I've decided that based on dress code alone, the Navy may be slightly better than the other armed forces...or, at the very least, much cuter.

This clips shows the graduating class as they recite the Sailors' Creed. I just caught the second half on video. But, because I wanted everyone to know what the Sailors' Creed says, I looked it up.

Sailors' Creed:
I am a United States Sailor.
I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America and I will obey the orders of those appointed over me.
I represent the fighting spirit of the Navy and those who have gone before me to defend freedom and democracy around the world.
I proudly serve my country's Navy combat team with Honor, Courage and Commitment.
I am committed to excellence and the fair treatment of all.

"Honor, Courage, and Commitment." Not bad, eh?


This is the last clip that I will include in this blog. This is the introduction of Division 333's officers. These are the folks that yelled at, encouraged, challenged, criticized, and were devoted to making their sailors the world's finest. A number of times during the ceremony we were reminded that we were witnessing as 597 sailors graduated and joined the finest Navy in the "history of the world." I have to reiterate that I scanned 596 sailors and thought, "Good for them." I honestly hoped that those sailors were the best in the world, too, because someday they could be called upon to save the one sailor among them all who I know is one of the finest: my brother. How do I know he is one of the finest? Because I know that he would be devoted to saving any of the 596 sailors in the room if they needed him. That's the search and rescue motto:

"That others might live."


After the ceremony we had just over an hour to spend with Kyle. He couldn't leave the base, but we all headed to our car so we could enjoy some private conversation. It was a good hour. Mom had baked an apple pie at Kyle's request. We enjoyed our hour and were instructed to meet Kyle at Chicago's Midway Airport a little later in the day. We weren't sure if we'd be able to talk with him or just wave goodbye, but we were willing to take what we could get. The next two pictures were taken in the parking lot at the Naval base. Here is Kyle with baby Nia and me. I was SO glad he got to meet her so soon after her arrival!
Dad and Mom with Kyle. I found it hard to peel my eyes off him. I just wanted to look, and look, and take in how he looked in uniform. Plus, after so many letters from boot camp that spoke of the various trials, it was good to see (with my own eyes) that he had made it through and was doing well. Here is where we found the Search and Rescue sailors at the airport. They are all waiting to check their baggage. The airport was more than willing to allow family to accompany their sailor into the terminal. We were given special passes and were allowed to go through the security checkpoint and everything! Kyle had a couple hours until he needed to rejoin his group to board his flight to Pensacola, so we found a nice restaurant and made the most of those few hours. Those moments with Kyle were totally priceless. We all expressed gratitude for our time in the airport on multiple occasions.

Kyle is the sailor just to the left of the woman in yellow. This is our goodbye. Kyle is boarding his flight to Florida where he will receive additional training. This time the training will be specific to his job: Search and Rescue. I thought saying goodbye was difficult. I have always felt protective of Kyle. He's four years younger than me and my best friend. I know he has the strength to do whatever must be done without my help, but I hate to let go. I realize, too, that in the Navy, goodbyes never get easier than this one. After all, the next time I say goodbye, he may be getting on a flight with a gun in his bag and orders in his hand. The next time I wave at an airplane, I may be waving to sailors on a mission. Sailors who will need to wear their camouflage and bullet-proof vests. Sailors who will be jumping into the ocean during a storm or the desert during a war. The Search and Rescue motto is appropriate, not just for the sailors who are part of the SAR, but also for their families. We bravely wave goodbye "So that others might live."
The plane that carried the Grad-N-Go Search and Rescue Unit down to Florida.

I don't know that I can really summarize the day. The feelings I experienced were many, some conflicting, and all intense. Since Kyle arrived in Pensacola, we have heard from him lots of times. The base in Florida is much less regimented and allows the sailors free time and access to telephones and computers. What a welcome change from the general hush-hush of boot camp!

Kyle shares a nicely sized room with one roommate. The two have their own bathroom. Kyle told me on the phone that he had taken a shower yesterday and was "thrilled not to have 50 other guys" with him. His room is about 100 yards from the bay. He took a run on the shore yesterday. He ate pizza, from a restaurant, for Sunday lunch!

Kyle has been forewarned about the strenuous physical training that will occur next week. That particular week has a reputation for being a killer, and Kyle has asked, in advance, for our prayers. Only 10% of the guys who enter SAR actually make it through the whole program. I asked Kyle yesterday if he would be equally OK doing a slightly different job. He said, "I'm in the Rescue Swimmer program--that's what I want to try and be." Sounds to me like we all should gear up for some more praying. The training is tough by necessity...the job is tough! For now, I'm proud of how far Kyle has gotten, and I've taken a deep breath and prepared myself to travel the next leg of this journey with him. Will you pack your bags, too?

07/16/2007

Sir, Yes, Sir!

The other day my Mom received her first batch of letters from my brother, Kyle. Literally, there was a batch. Kyle hails from the Great Lakes Naval Training Facility (aka Navy Boot camp). Mom spoke on the phone with Nick last night and relayed several of the more dramatic stories that Kyle had shared in his notes. Turns out that the reputation of the yelling, mean, and intimidating drill sergeants is quite accurate. Do you think drill sergeants are born with this bent toward constant irritation, or is it a big act that they put on for these new recruits? Do they enjoy shouting insults at their charges while standing only millimeters from their faces? I think it would grow tiresome, but apparently not.

In the Navy they refer to the little piece of space that the recruits call 'their own' as their 'rack.' I believe this might have some storage space for their stuff (they wouldn't need much of this space as they were stripped of all earthly possessions except for the smallest stubble of hair on top of their heads upon entry) and their bed. Any bed referred to as a 'rack' doesn't conjure up images of down pillows and memory foam mattresses, does it? You know what comes to my mind? Those beds of nails that were used years ago to torture people. Bed bugs seem like a small concern when faced with the tyranny of a metal bed studded with hundreds of little razor sharp nails. Anyway, I don't think the Navy racks are instruments of torture in and of themselves, but if they themselves aren't a cause of misery, they certainly aid in it. The requirements for the general condition of these 'racks' goes WAY beyond perfectionism. And that drill sergeant just won't let the issue go.

I don't know how it is at your house, but we're having a spic-n-span day if the beds around here get made. Not so in the Navy. Kyle and his group of peers spent a good part of one day making and remaking (etc. etc.) their racks. This went on for at least 100 repetitions. I'm not sure I could find enough things to criticize in order to draw this exercise on as long as the drill sergeant did: "McNeil, Is that the fluffiest you can make your pillow?" "McNeil, I told you to tuck in the flat sheet on every side." "McNeil, I HOPE that isn't a WRINKLE on your comforter!" "McNeil, I suggest you lick that drool stain off your pillow case, blow it dry using your MOUTH, and then reassemble your pillow ensuring the corners form perfect 90 degree angles!" Seriously...If it weren't so "not funny" it would be a bit hilarious. This morning I stepped out of my bed, noticed that the bottom sheet had pulled loose from one corner of the mattress, a couple pillows had fallen to the floor, the comforter was in a heap toward the foot of the bed, and some crumbs from a midnight snack were gathered together toward the mattresses center. I thought the drill sergeant might go into cardiac arrest if he took a peek at MY rack. He would probably avoid the trouble of teaching me to make it correctly and just dishonorably discharge me.

Another one of the drill sergeant's pet peeves is with the unending request for bathroom breaks. This seems understandable. I went to school long enough to know that there are always a few kids who escape to the bathroom to avoid math or to meet up with their best friend who agreed to leave Chemistry 101 at exactly 10:52AM. Curtailing unnecessary interruption seems reasonable, but in the Navy I think they've taken things a step too far. Instead of implementing the "only use the restroom if it's an emergency" policy, they decided to ban using the restroom altogether. Then, maybe to teach the recruits what a bathroom emergency feels like (in case they decide to use the more reasonable policy mentioned earlier), they required the troops to consume large quantities of water. When a naval officer orders you to take a swig of water, it is best not to respond by saying, "No thanks, I've already had my fill of water. You don't happen to have a hamburger, though, do ya?" They don't take kindly to that sort of thing. Instead, you just respond, "Yes, sir! I'm parched!" This exercise in bladder strength has caused more than one 'accident' over the years. And speaking of holding things...

During a recent Naval Academy swimming lesson, Kyle and company were required to float face-down in the pool and hold their breath for....you won't believe this...five minutes! I didn't know it was humanly possible, but Kyle did it. While somewhat cruel and unusual, this at least teaches a skill that could come in handy should one find themselves trapped in a sinking car or surrounded by tear gas. I've decided to use this technique (modified slightly, of course) here at the house. Whenever Nathan's behaviour is unacceptable, we will simply require him to hold his breath. I envision this would be a sort of modified time-out. Five minutes would be too much for him at the beginning, of course, but maybe we could have a policy like "one minute for every year of age up to age five." The point isn't to kill the kid...just to teach him two lessons at a time: One, we don't throw knives and two, you CAN and SHOULD practice holding your breath so your diaphragm is strong in case of emergency.

Well, if it wasn't obvious before, I think that the commentary on boot camp has confirmed that I am not Navy material. I do my countrymen a greater service by reporting on the human rights violations that occur in boot camp than living through the human rights violations of boot camp. It is on this note that I solemnly sign off. Until another day and another report, this lesson on boot camp will be considered over. Comrades in the anti-DS (drill sergeant) campaign, I salute you!