Robert Eugene Bush wasn't old enough to join the Navy when the Imperial Japanese Navy attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941. He was still in high school. His neighbor in his hometown of Raymond, Washington, was a Fireman aboard the USS Arizona.
"He's still on board the Arizona," Bush said in a Veterans History Project Interview.
Bush could barely stand the wait to join the war. He wouldn't be old enough until his 17th birthday in the Fall of 1943. He and a friend from school dropped out and enlisted in the U.S. Naval Reserve.
"We just wanted to be part of it," he said. "A little of it was adventurous, but the rest of it was to get even."
He would only be in the military for one year, six months, and 22 days, the shortest tour of duty of any of the Medal of Honor recipients in World War II. But the battle he would fight to earn the medal would be one of the war's biggest and deadliest: the Battle of Okinawa.
For 98 days, U.S. Army soldiers and United States Marines fought the Japanese defenders on Okinawa's 463 square miles. It has come to be known as the "Typhoon of Steel," given the fighting's viciousness on the island.
The fight for Okinawa began with a massive naval bombardment that would become unnecessary, as the Japanese defenders allowed the U.S. to make its way to shore virtually unopposed. But the 130,000 fortified Japanese troops were lying in wait for them.
When the enemy did attack, the fighting was brutal.
Okinawa was going to be the primary Army, Navy, and Air Forces staging point for Operation Downfall, the Allied invasion of the Japanese home islands. Failure was not an option for the Americans.
Robert E. Bush was a young sailor who signed up to be a Navy Corpsman after basic training. He practically grew up in a hospital, as his mother was a single mom and nurse in his hometown. Bush thought he might be working in a hospital, a job he was comfortable doing, given his upbringing. He didn't even know the Marine Corps had Navy Corpsmen.
Once he learned about the job, he signed up to be one. After four months of combat and field medicine training, he was shipping out to the Pacific. He was assigned to G Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines, who were still recovering from the invasion of Peleliu.
He trained for an amphibious landing with the Marines. Over and over, they stormed the beaches of Guadalcanal, which the U.S. had taken in 1942, preparing for their next island invasion, which they all believed would be Formosa. They were wrong.
Bush soon found himself aboard an LST with 500 Marines in the waters near Iwo Jima, which had fallen to the Americans just days before. The next day, he was off the coast of Okinawa, one of 1700 ships there to make the landings on the island.
"It gave you a certain amount of confidence," Bush said. "There was an innumerable amount of ships and landing craft, so we thought this would be a piece of cake."
U.S. Navy leaders weren't so sure of that, so it unleashed the largest naval gunfire barrage to support an amphibious landing of the entire Pacific War.
The bow doors opened, the armored amphibious tractor came out, and the Marines went ashore just north of Bolo Point on Okinawa. They were expecting to have to climb a sea wall, but the USS New Jersey had already leveled the wall.
They also expected untold beach hazards, traps, and thousands of Japanese soldiers, but he says there wasn't a soul there when they landed. They quickly made their way to the airfield to find the Japanese planes still on the ground. The Marines made their way to Shuri Castle before the enemy started to show itself.
Bush was on Okinawa for 32 days, and by the time they'd reached Shuri Castle, the platoon had lost half of its 58-man strength.
"It's hard to understand the number of deaths there was on Okinawa," Bush said. "310,000 people died in 82 days, but of the wounded, we were able to save 94% of them. We lost 13,000 Marines there, but it was only 6% of the wounded."
Bush's company of Marines were next assigned to take Kunishi Ridge, a fortification the Army had attempted to take for three weeks to no avail. His platoon leader, Jim Roach, broke from the lines to reconnoiter a hill that they were supposed to take that morning.
When Roach got to the hill, the Japanese poured out of the hill and peppered him with small arms fire. The Marines told Bush where their leader was, far from friendly lines.
"The rules of the road is, if it impairs my ability to do my job as the Corpsman, I can't go," Bush said. "But if I think I can get out there, get him back, can save him, then I go."
The Platoon Sergeant told HA1c Bush, he didn't have to go this time. But Bush asked for two Marines to accompany him, one to run in front and the other behind. The Marine in front was killed right away. The Marine behind Bush was gone by the time he reached the wounded man.
Bush began treating Roach with whole blood but soon saw Japanese soldiers pop their heads up out of the ridgeline. The Corpsman grabbed his officer's carbine and fired off a shot, still holding the blood bottle. Eventually, the officer began to recover, and Bush kept shooting.
"I didn't look at it as anything more than I'd been doing the 31 days before," Bush said.
Bush ordered one of the Marines who had left with Roach to take him back to the main force while Bush covered their exit. Suddenly, a Japanese hand grenade landed next to Bush. The explosion took out his right eye. Two more landed next to him, and he took the brunt of all three.
The leather shoulder holster for his .45-caliber Colt M1911 likely saved his life. He had no scarring where the holster protected his underarms.
"By that time, I'm really mad," he said with a laugh. "I knew if I turned around, I was dead, so I took his carbine and an M1 from a fallen Marine and went right around the hill and up after them."
By the time he climbed the hill, he could barely see from his left eye, but he was looking at the backs of the Japanese soldiers who had just thrown three hand grenades at him if you asked HA1c Bush how many he killed, he'd say he killed every one of them he could find.
He made his way back to the lines, bleeding from multiple wounds and missing an eye. He finally collapsed, trying to walk back to an aid station.
It would take a battalion of 800 men to take the hill. Bush was presented the Medal of Honor by President Harry S. Truman at the White House on Oct. 5, 1945, for his actions on Okinawa. At age 18, he was the award's youngest-ever recipient.
After the Battle of Okinawa, Bush recalled talking to the now-famous conscientious objector and Army medic Desmond Doss, a fellow Medal of Honor recipient who saved lives on Okinawa while completely unarmed. He credited God with seeing him through the battle.
"Desmond," he told Doss, "With the help of God and a few Marines, I got through."
Robert E. Bush died on Nov. 8, 2005, at age 79.
Robert E. Bush's Official Medal of Honor Citation:
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as Medical Corpsman with a rifle company, in action against enemy Japanese forces on Okinawa Jima, Ryukyu Islands, 2 May 1945. Fearlessly braving the fury of artillery, mortar, and machine-gun fire from strongly entrenched hostile positions, Bush constantly and unhesitatingly moved from one casualty to another to attend the wounded falling under the enemy's murderous barrages.
As the attack passed over a ridge top, Bush was advancing to administer blood plasma to a Marine officer lying wounded on the skyline when the Japanese launched a savage counterattack. In this perilously exposed position, he resolutely maintained the flow of life-giving plasma. With the bottle held high in one hand, Bush drew his pistol with the other and fired into the enemy's ranks until his ammunition was expended.
Quickly seizing a discarded carbine, he trained his fire on the Japanese charging point blank over the hill, accounting for six of the enemy despite his own serious wounds and the loss of one eye suffered during his desperate battle in defense of the helpless man. With the hostile force finally routed, he calmly disregarded his own critical condition to complete his mission, valiantly refusing medical treatment for himself until his officer patient had been evacuated and collapsing only after attempting to walk to the battle aid station.
His daring initiative, great personal valor, and heroic spirit of self-sacrifice in the service of others reflect great credit upon Bush and enhance the finest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service.
In 1984, Matsuzo Gibo added traditional Mexican-style spices to ground beef and put the spicy meat mixture on a bed of rice, then added lettuce and shredded cheese. He started selling it from his food stall as a quick lunchtime meal.
The simple dish, now known the world over as "taco rice," conquered Okinawa faster and with far less resistance than the U.S. military did during World War II.
Gibo, who died in 2014, was the owner of the Parlor Senri food stall outside of Camp Hansen's Gate 1 in Kin Town, Okinawa. Being just a mile away from the gate, his primary customer base was U.S. Marines and had been for a long time.
The fight for Okinawa was the last major battle of World War II and was also one of the war's bloodiest. On Apr 1, 1945, the United States landed Marines and soldiers on the island. It was the largest amphibious landing of the Pacific War.
For a little over three months, the United States, with Allied naval support, fought the entrenched Japanese defenders for the 463 square mile island. The island fell to the Americans on July 2, 1945 - and the United States has been there ever since.
With the end of the war and the arrival of Americans came anything and everything Americans liked, including their favorite foods. The fusion of the two worlds slowly crept in.
By 1956, Okinawans were serving American GIs tacos on rice flour tortillas at a restaurant called Charlie's Tacos. After a few decades, east began to meet west in a "Mexi-Oki" food fusion that is now well-known, not only among U.S. troops but throughout Asia and the Pacific Islands: taco rice.
"Taco rice is loved by both westerners and by the Southeast [Asians], especially the Okinawans," restaurateur Al Shipp told the KCET show "Meals Ready to Eat."
Shipp is a Marine Corps veteran of 20 years who served on Okinawa and started the Cafe Orleans restaurant on the island. His restaurant makes its own version of taco rice, with a cajun-creole spin.
"You basically take the taco that we know back home and replace the shell with rice. It's east meets west. It's us being here too, east and west; we can coexist together," he said.
Okinawa itself, though a prefecture of Japan long before World War II, was never fully Japanese in its culture. And though the United States bases 70% of its military presence in Japan on Okinawa and controlled the island until 1972, the islanders never fully Americanized either.
But the islanders do readily accept western culture. The result is an Okinawan mixture of American and Japanese influences on the island's own traditions. Like all things that suddenly explode in popularity, the mythos surrounding taco rice has its own theory for how it came about.
Okinawans knew Americans loved tacos, but they had trouble believing that a flimsy corn or flour shell would be enough to sustain a U.S. serviceman.
"It was more like a snack - not very filling for Americans," Sayuri Shimabukuro, who now runs Parlor Senri, told Stripes Okinawa. "Matsuzo decided to substitute the taco shell with rice, which is relatively faster to cook and also filling, in order for the wait staff to explain the dish, he named it taco rice."
Sayuri Shimabukuro is the granddaughter of Matsuzo Gibo and now runs both Parlor Senri and nearby King Taco. She says her Japanese customers now outnumber her American ones.
"In Kin Town, 70% of the time, it's Japanese customers, 30% American," she says. "Now it's become Okinawan food."
Taco rice is just what it sounds like; a dish of rice topped with the traditional Tex-Mex taco fixings found at any taco bar in the American Southwest. But taco rice also has its own Japanese influences. The meat is not only cooked with the traditional Tex-Mex seasonings. It's also found infused with soy sauce, mirin, and sake.
Shimabukuro is right, it is more filling than a corn shell, and for American service members stationed far from home, it's a taste of good ol' American comfort food.
Now known as "Tako Raisu," the dish has achieved worldwide notoriety. The Japanese fast-food chain Yoshinoya serves it at its 1,400 worldwide locations. You can find it at the Taco Bell in Tokyo's Shibuya district. And all over the world, it can be found at local Japanese restaurants, often with the house's own spin on the Okinawan dish.
Although everyone generally accepts the humble origin story of taco rice, the only argument left is over whether or not it's supposed to come topped with diced tomatoes.
On Mar. 28, 2004, Paul Bremer, administrator of the American-led Coalition Provisional Authority of Iraq, ordered the closure of al-Hawza, an Arabic-language newspaper that was a sounding board for the Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr.
Bremer shut down the weekly paper because he believed it encouraged violence against U.S. troops in Iraq. It was only supposed to last 60 days, but the action would spark a series of events that led to a four-year siege and a series of battles between Coalition forces and al-Sadr's Mahdi Army.
On April 3, 2004, Bremer ordered the arrest of Mustafa Yaqoubi, one of al-Sadr's senior advisors. An estimated 15,000 Iraqis took to the streets to demand his release. Demonstrators claimed that Spanish and El Salvadoran troops opened fire on them as they gathered, and the protest took a violent turn.
In response, al-Sadr ordered his Shia militia, the Mahdi Army, to take control of the Iraqi police stations in Najaf, Kufa, and Karbala but especially in Baghdad's Sadr City, a Shia-controlled Baghdad suburb known for its fervent support of the cleric.
Al-Sadr next called for a general uprising against the Coalition forces in Iraq. On April 4, the fighting began in earnest as the American 1st Cavalry, and local Iraqi police were driven out of the suburbs' police stations in a surprise ambush, killing eight and wounding 51 others. It became known among American Soldiers as "Black Sunday."
The U.S. forces were able to retake the police stations in heavy fighting, but the next month the Mahdi Army struck again. It massed more than 100 fighters to storm the police stations once more but were fought off by armored elements of the 1st Cavalry Division.
By June, the United States controlled the suburb, one of the poorest in Iraq, but in name only. The area's inhabitants were still loyal to Muqtada al-Sadr.
The large mass of Iraqis living in the area provided the most protection for the cleric. The 2.5 million people living in the crowded, narrow streets of Sadr City made an all-out assault unappealing to U.S. and Coalition leaders. The likelihood of civilian casualties would be too much for a country already on the brink of civil war.
In August 2004, Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani returned to Iraq from London, where he was receiving medical treatment. The ayatollah brokered a ceasefire between the Mahdi Army and the Coalition government, created demilitarized zones in sensitive Shia cities, and negotiated Iraqi Army troops' use to guard cities instead of Coalition occupation forces.
The ceasefire held, but in the meantime, the Mahdi Army gathered its strength, expanding beyond Sadr City. It soon controlled much of Baghdad, placing up to 70% of the city under Muqtada al-Sadr's control. By 2006, it was fighting a new enemy, the Sunni militia al-Qaeda in Iraq.
The sectarian fighting between various religious groups like the Mahdi Army, al-Qaeda in Iraq, and forces controlled by Iran were wreaking havoc on civilians, sectarian fighters, and Coalition troops alike. Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) began to take a toll on the U.S. military. The fighting was felt by the militias as well, with an estimated 250 bodies of sectarian fighters found in the streets every month.
But if Muqtada al-Sadr's control of the city and the Mahdi Army was worrisome to the Coalition Authorities, al-Sadr was losing control of the army to local commanders funded by Iran. Coalition and Iraqi security forces launched Operation Imposing the Law (sometimes called Operation Law and Order) to try to regain control of the capital.
By this time, four more brigades of American troops were deployed in and around Baghdad as part of the 2007 troop surge, with the "Baghdad Security Plan" as the cornerstone of the Surge. New concrete barriers separated areas of the city, and movement was restricted using security checkpoints. New foot patrols increased security in the city, and neighborhoods were swept out to clear out the insurgent activity.
Concrete became the most powerful weapon of the war, an important development as the Iraqis would discover later in the fight for Sadr City.
Retaking Baghdad required three key elements: clear, control, and contain. After clearing out militia fighters, the Coalition would maintain a presence on the streets of the neighborhoods to control the streets. Coalition forces would then rebuild police stations and reinforce that control with a constant presence. When the Iraqi Security Forces could handle the security, the Coalition forces would move on.
Meanwhile, U.S. forces were largely unaware of what was happening inside Sadr City. After a 2007 airstrike, the United States was not allowed in the area by order of Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki. Al-Maliki declared the area off-limits to the Coalition.
Suddenly in March 2008, the Mahdi Army began striking Coalition targets in the International Zone, where the U.S. embassy was, on U.S. bases, and around Baghdad International Airport using rockets fired from Sadr City. On March 21-22, the militia also began to overrun Iraqi checkpoints in and around Sadr City – the Mahdi Army had launched a new offensive. On March 23rd, all hell broke loose.
Insurgent fighters overran Iraqi Security Forces, police stations, and Coalition-linked militias called "The Sons of Iraq." By the 25th of March, Sadr City was completely controlled by the Sadrists, and half of the security checkpoints around it were controlled by the Mahdi Army.
Without lifting the restrictions on U.S. troops entering Sadr City, Prime Minister Nouri Al-Maliki requested the Coalition and Iraqi forces to stop the rocket attacks on Baghdad and arrest the criminal militias hiding out there.
American troops cut off rocket launching positions south of Route Gold, along the border of Sadr City, as the Iraqis moved to seize Ishbiliyah and Habibiyah neighborhoods. The Mahdi Army responded by attempting to overrun the Americans outside of Sadr City using mass numbers, but close-air support from Apache helicopters supporting ground troops leveled the odds in favor of the U.S.
The militias didn't break and run at the first sign of U.S. troops, as expected. They were determined to keep their urban stronghold. Even when the U.S. brought Abrams tanks and other armored vehicles to bear, the Americans found a determined enemy waiting for them.
With the Mahdi Army pushed back into its Sadr City hideout, it was time for the U.S. to end the rocket attacks. Operation Striker Denial ran from March 26 to April 14, an attempt to cut out positions from which the Sadrist could fire rockets.
It quickly became clear that the United States had to prevent the movement of Mahdi Army fighters, material, ammunition, and supplies throughout that area of the city to stop the rocket attacks. To that end, the U.S. began to construct a 12-foot-high concrete wall isolating the two key neighborhoods from the rest of Sadr City. Operation Gold Wall was an effort to box in the fighters using the same kinds of walls that were effective in other areas of Baghdad.
The wall became a magnet for every militia fighter in the area as the Mahdi Army fought to keep it from being completed. For six weeks, the area around the wall became a killing field. Three U.S. Army battalions with Abrams tanks and Bradley Armored Fighting Vehicles and Iraqi troops slugged it out with the militia fighters.
Initially, the U.S. effort was hampered by huge numbers of well-hidden IEDs and other specialized shape charges that could puncture layers of steel armor. To expedite the removal of the explosives, M1 Abrams tanks would fire 120-millimeter canister rounds to set off any explosives ahead of the convoys building the wall. With the path forward clear, the wall construction continued at night, using American night vision technology as an advantage.
The militia's tactics also began to evolve during this time in an effort to counter American efforts to build the wall. When the insurgent tactics shifted, so did the Americans'. When the Mahdi Army began using snipers to hit the cranes loading the concrete barriers, Army Special Forces snipers launched an intense countersniper campaign against them. When snipers couldn't hit enemy snipers, they called in support from loitering drones.
The anti-rocket campaign also evolved. When the operation first began, enemy rocket launch teams were targeted as soon as they fired a rocket. Eventually, the intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) teams began to watch the insurgents after firing and follow them back to where they received order and ammunition. That's when the U.S. Air Force Predator drones and Army Shadow UAS would strike.
The insurgents realized that snipers and IEDs were not going to stop the Americans from building the wall. Their last effort was to come out shooting, giving up the one advantage they had over the U.S. in urban combat: hiding in the city. Once they attacked in mass, the U.S. Army could identify and engage them with superior firepower.
As the fighting dragged on, the militia began to lose fighters it couldn't afford. An estimated 700 insurgents were killed in the fighting for Sadr City. Its military leadership fled Baghdad for other areas, including Iran and Syria.
On May 12, 2008, Muqtada al-Sadr declared a ceasefire, allowing the Iraqis to consolidate their gains in the area. In the area of Sadr City below the wall is where the lasting difference was made for the population of the neighborhood, according to a study from the RAND Corporation.
The Coalition and Iraqi government began enabling Iraqi small businesses in the rebuilding of the area, giving them a stake in its continued peace. By using only Iraqi forces in the neighborhood, the government also showed the city was not controlled by an occupation force to be resisted. Stability, security, and improvement made to the area allowed for the population to reject the control of the Mahdi Army and support the new Iraqi government.
By May 20, the 44th Brigade of the Iraqi Army entered Sadr City unopposed. Sadr City is one of the most densely populated areas where the United States has ever fought.
The US Army Corps of Engineers is the oldest branch of military service with roots that reach back to the Revolutionary War. Over time, large-scale construction projects have given visibility for the Corps' existence, but little more is known about specific roles and responsibilities. With the onset of World War II, this void grew even larger when battlefield complexity, strategy, and tactics gave rise to a new brand of soldier, the Combat Engineer. Equipped with extensive training and specialized skills these soldiers perform the broadest range of duties in the Army. In 1943 the fledgling 252nd Combat Engineer Battalion steeled themselves for war and through 1945 undertook every form of wartime mission, serving with distinction and earning commendations spanning the Normandy invasion through VE Day and beyond.
The 252nd Engineers (code name 'Cloudburst') were activated July 1943 and over the next six months grew to 31 officers and 740 enlisted men across four companies. Following extensive training at Camp Gruber (Oklahoma), the Louisiana Maneuver Area, and Camp Howze (Gainesville, TX) the unit was attached to Ninth Army and would remain so through VE Day. In April 1944, elements of the battalion were transferred to a provisional unit who would be the first to experience combat while clearing beach obstacles and mines at Omaha Beach on D-Day. In August 1944, the bulk of the battalion embarked from Camp Shanks (Orangeburg, NY) for a difficult eight-day Atlantic crossing on the liberty ships Howard Gray and Rollins Victory.
One soldier recounted, "despite all our training and preparation we were immediately reduced to learning how to remain seated on the toilet with twenty-foot waves washing over the decks". Finally arriving at Liverpool in the north of England on September 1, the engineers received training in Bailey Bridge construction and on September 18 were ready for deployment from Southampton into the European Theatre of Operations (ETO).
Entering Europe through Omaha Beach the 252nd moved quickly through St. Lo to a rain-soaked Le Pieux, France on the west side of the Cotentin Peninsula, the heart of hedgerow country. Almost immediately the battalion was faced with its first task - clearing mines from the beach and adjoining hedgerows, a duty that would become routine across Europe. It was here the 252nd suffered its first casualties, four engineers killed and twelve wounded before their mission in Normandy was finished. In the midst of this baptism, two Commendations for Heroism were earned from XVI Corp.
Operation Cobra and the eventual taking of Caen by the British enabled the Allies to break out from Normandy and the cursed bocage. With lead US forces racing east across France, Ninth Army took up position protecting the northern US flank while the British turned north toward Belgium. September 1944 brought the failure of Operation Market Garden, leaving the low countries in enemy hands and the 252nd Engineers moving rapidly across France to the front line in Belgium (in the vicinity of Rosmeer), advancing more than 450 miles in two days. The battalion was immediately put to work supporting the Red Ball Express to secure Allied supply routes in addition to the full breadth of other support missions: clearing mines, road repair, building, and hospital repair, felling trees and saw-mill operation, material transport, light demolition, and water purification. However, directly opposing Ninth Army were five German divisions: 176th Infantry, 183rd Infantry, 246th Infantry, 3rd Panzergrenadier, the 49th Infantry Division, and at least one armored division in local reserve. Being on the front line meant the Engineers were routinely under artillery and small arms fire while V-1 bombs passed overhead.
In mid-November 1944, the battalion advanced into Holland (in the vicinity of Valkenburg) and had the distinction of conducting operations in three countries simultaneously: France, Belgium, and Holland. Meanwhile, the port of Antwerp opened, easing tensions surrounding the Allies' supply routes and accelerating the build-up of men and equipment at the front. For the engineers, this created unprecedented demand for bridges in the wake of German demolition and retreat. Spanning November and December the 252nd constructed three separate bridges, one of these to accommodate traffic competing with an armored division. Thinking outside the box, Company B (1st Platoon) built a second bridge beneath the primary roadway with armored vehicles passing a mere three feet overhead and put into service with only a forty-five-minute interruption in traffic flow.
The Allies continued to devise and debate offensive operations into December 1944, but all that would change with the Ardennes offensive on December 16th (the Battle of the Bulge). Scrambling to stem the enemy advance, support units were converted to infantry and rushed into the front line. From January 19th to January 28th the 252nd Engineer Battalion relieved the 102nd Infantry Division at two locations: Lieffarth and Wurm, Germany. For ten days the engineers manned foxholes and pillboxes, conducted reconnaissance patrols, assaulted Wehrmacht positions, and delivered harassing fire on the enemy, allowing the 102nd Infantry to regroup and attack again through those positions. The mission was unexpectedly made more difficult by the loss of mortar covering fire by the infantry and record cold. One soldier recounted, "there were several feet of snow and it was so bitter cold you could walk across the top without ever breaking the surface". Ultimately, five engineers were killed and fifteen wounded.
Following the German retreat, the Allies launched a campaign in February 1945 with the goal of US and British forces advancing to the Rhine. Operation Veritable and Operation Grenade would form a pincer movement and trigger Operation Flashpoint in March, the Rhine River crossing. Once again, elements of the 252nd were transferred to a provisional unit, serving with distinction in support of the assault and bridgehead. Meanwhile, the bulk of the battalion was on the move again, building three trestle bridges during February and March near German strongholds (Venlo, Holland; Geilenkirchen and Munchen-Gladbach, Germany).
Leveraging the Allies' success, the 252nd and 250th Combat Engineers partnered to construct a bridge that would prove a pinnacle event, the Venlo Bridge crossing the Maas River. Venlo, Holland was itself a major communications center and a strategic location on the VenIo-Wesel highway. Despite its size, the bridge was constructed in record time of thirteen days and earned a Letter of Commendation from the British 21st Army Group, the principal beneficiary.
The general collapse of German resistance was becoming widespread, increasing the engineers' assignments to include guarding prisoners, construction of POW compounds and cemeteries while clearing enemy rearguards, snipers, and booby traps.
In April 1945, the 252nd and 250th Battalions again teamed up to construct the Roosevelt Memorial Bridge over the Rhine near Wesel, Germany. The finished bridge was nearly a mile long and required only 21 days, earning both battalions a Letter of Commendation from General Simpson, Commander US 9th Army.
May began with the battalion moving to Magdeburg, Germany for construction of an autobahn bridge over the Weser-Elbe Canal, but more, the meeting of US and Russian forces. The bridge construction took only seven days and opened the route to Berlin, while select multilingual engineers (most notably those speaking Polish) also served as interpreters with Russian forces.
With Germany's surrender, the battalion moved to Herford, Germany, where it performed security duties and built an airstrip. In the background, the battalion was reassigned to Seventh Army and ordered to prepare for deployment to Japan, orders that were fortunately rescinded in June. Instead, the engineers undertook a final mission together with two other units, the Railway Bridge at Jossa, Germany. Despite a failed attempt by others in 1944 to repair the bridge and lacking training in its design, the engineers nonetheless completed construction in August 1945. As a tribute to these engineers, the bridge continues in service over seventy-five years later.
The battalion continued occupation duty until deactivated in May 1949 at Swetingen, Germany.
Typical of units activated during World War 2 the 252nd Combat Engineer Battalion was formed with individuals from diverse backgrounds and locations: transfers, volunteers, and draftees. But despite these differences, there was, perhaps, a shared devotion to duty that compelled exceptional innovation and achievements throughout their mission in the ETO, earning them the right to go home. After more than thirty years of nightmares and other indications of PTSD, reflection by one of these citizen soldiers through tear-filled eyes may say it best, "I witnessed the best and worst of mankind and did a lot of killing I'm not proud of, hoping only that God forgives in time of war. But I love this country and if it is ever threatened I would willingly do it all over again tomorrow."
Alfred W. Konczak (Pfc), 252nd Combat Engineer Battalion, Company B, 1st Platoon, 2nd Squad passed away in 1979.
Back in 1987, USS Saratoga was conducting training exercises off the coast of Florida in preparation for an upcoming deployment. Pilots were conducting carrier qualifications (CQ) so they could get used to taking off and landing on an aircraft carrier at sea. If you've seen any war movie that features naval battles, you've undoubtedly seen how dangerous that is. Those evolutions are precarious on land and adding in the pitch and roll of a warship multiplies the risk. CQs were an important part of a battle groups pre-deployment training. After the CQs were complete, we had a port visit scheduled in Miami for a well-deserved liberty call. We talked about all the things we were going to see and do the whole time prior to arrival.
Aircraft carriers have a unique problem whenever they conduct a port visit. Typically, there isn't a berth that is wide enough or deep enough to allow us to come pier side, so we usually anchored offshore and water taxis were contracted to shuttle Sailors ashore. This caused long lines through the hangar bays during the day, and even longer lines at Fleet Landing – the term given to the area ashore where we caught the water taxi back to the ship – at Zero Dark Thirty when we were hammered drunk. The ride back while drunk provided a lot of entertainment, and often differentiated between the Old Salts and the Boots.
We anchored off the coast and wouldn't you know it, I had duty the first day. Having duty the first day of liberty is a blessing and a curse. In one respect, you're anxious to get off the ship and ready to fuck shit up. But it's not so bad, because the guys who go out the first night always come back with some good intel on where to go. My buddy Stacey and I had plans to go out after we got off the mid-watch (and a quick nap), and we were going to meet some other guys who were going to get a hotel room the first night.
Hotel rooms were always coveted because living aboard ship sucks. You eat, sleep, shit, shower, and shave in an industrial complex and remain in very close proximity to EVERYONE, whether you liked them or not. It was always noisy, dirty, and stinky, so it wasn't uncommon for a group of six or eight dudes to pool their money to get a room on the beach, get a shitload of beer, and drink all weekend without having to worry about going back to the ship. It didn't matter if you had to crash in a chair or on the floor, as long as you were off the ship.
The mid watch and quick nap behind us, Stacey and I went down to the hangar bay to catch a liberty launch ashore. The late-morning sky was severely overcast and the ships' weather guessers predicted severe thunderstorms for the next few days. It looked like those fuckers guessed right. We could definitely rule out going to the beach, but there were plenty of bars to drink in where the rain wouldn't be an issue. We met up with our buddies, did a little shopping, and commenced to drinkin'.
The weather got progressively worse throughout the day. The rain came down in sheets, and there was no traffic to speak of. This made it difficult to find a cab, so we opted to keep our drinking to bars that were within sprinting distance of the hotel. We bumped into some other Shipmates throughout the evening, and we were hearing persistent rumors that the weather was so bad that the water taxis couldn't make the transit from ship to shore safely, and that they issued a recall of all ship's company or risk being stuck ashore. We were squids. That was a risk we were willing to take. Our buddies that we met ashore all had duty the following day and decided it best to return to the ship. We made arrangements with the hotel to have their room transferred to us. Stacey and I continued drinking.
The rumors we were hearing about liberty being canceled turned out to be true. We were in a bar where the music was loud and women were dancing. The TV behind the bar was on but was muted.
"Hey! Turn up the TV!"
There was a story on the news about liberty cancellation because the seas were too rough for the water taxis. The on-location reporter said that any Sailors that were still ashore needed to check in with Shore Patrol at Fleet Landing. Stacey and I closed our tabs, tossed a couple of bucks to the dancers, and headed towards Fleet Landing. We managed to hail a taxi and stumbled out of it once we arrived. The line of Sailors waiting to check-in told us we weren't the only ones who had the same great idea. We talked to some of the other guys in line. Word was that since the weather was out of our control, we would be allowed to stay ashore until the weather cleared and we could get back aboard. We had to check in with Shore Patrol twice each day to let them know we were alive, but otherwise, we were free to do whatever. Our turn came up.
"Names." It was more of a demand than a question.
"Krol."
"Haberl."
"You gotta place to stay?"
"Yup."
"Check-in twice a day and be ready to go back to the ship when you do."
"Aye aye."
We walked away like we just hit the Lotto. We were Sailors on unrestricted liberty in Miami. The fact that we didn't have a change of clothes, or toiletries, or much money didn't seem to matter.
We went back to the hotel to make sure that they knew what was going on. Although it was the off-season, vacancies were pretty scarce, especially reasonably priced ones. This hotel was not reasonably priced. It was one of the nicer hotels where families and businesspeople stayed, not drunken squids with no accountability. Still, it was better than looking for a new place in the storm, so we made arrangements to continue staying there with the premise that we square the bill each day. Stacey had a credit card, for which we were both thankful, because it was still a couple of days before payday, and we knew our cash supply would be spent elsewhere. We got some complimentary toiletries (toothbrushes, toothpaste, razors, and shaving cream), put them in our room, and headed back out.
We woke up the next morning hungover and woefully low on cash. A quick glance outside told us that the deluge was still happening, and a quick check 
of the local news told us it was going to stay like this for the next couple of days. As we got ready to make our way to Fleet Landing to check in with Shore Patrol, we discussed our financial situation. From what we saw on the local weather, we were going to be ashore for a couple days and we knew the cash we had both in our wallets and in our bank accounts would not last. Like most junior Sailors, we lived paycheck-to-paycheck. We decided to save the cash for when we actually went out. We'd put whatever we could on Stacey's credit card and split the bill halfway. And we'd pick up a case or two of beer to pre-game, so we didn't spend so much when we went out. As we put on our still-soaked clothes, we realized we had another problem: we didn't bring a change of clothes. We hadn't planned on being ashore so long so there was no point in bringing a bag, which was just going to slow us down at the bars anyway. We decided to figure it out later and headed to Fleet Landing. It wouldn't have mattered if our clothes were bone dry, they would have been soaked through in short order anyway.
We checked in with Shore Patrol and asked when they thought we'd have to go back. We got a shrug as a reply, which was pretty much what we expected. We picked up a case of the cheapest beer we could stand and headed back to the room.
We were stranded in Miami for three days, each day much like the one before. We'd wake up hungover, shit shower and shave, check-in with Shore Patrol, get another case of beer, begin drinking, check-in with Shore Patrol, and continue drinking at whatever bar we saw that looked like they had cheap beer and cheaper women, lather rinse repeat. Daily sustenance consisted of pizza and hot wings. The morning of day 3, we realized that the rain really wasn't getting our clothes clean. We had taken to freeballin', but things get chafed that shouldn't when they rub against soggy denim all day. We called down to the front desk and asked if they had a laundry service, which they did. The staff knew who we were and made it a priority for us. They sent someone up to get our clothes, we answered the door in bedsheets (our towels were all dirty, one of us may have puked the night before) and we had them back about an hour and a half later. We watched the weather and although it had subsided a little, it hadn't let up enough for the water taxis to resume service. We knew we'd have to get back somehow because the ship was scheduled to get underway soon. We'd heard that there were about 100 civilians who came to tour the ship the first day and had to spend the night aboard. I'm sure they kept them out of gen pop and gave them staterooms and good meals. They helo'ed them off the following morning.
It was the evening of the third night and we knew we were going back aboard ship. Local news was broadcasting regularly that all Sailors should report back to be transported back to the ship. The question was how they were going to get us there. Of course, we were among the last guys to report. The water taxis still weren't running because the seas were still rough. The barges and accommodation ladders, which served as the landing and the means to get from the water taxi to the ship, had all been taken away. We'd hoped that they were going to helo us onboard, which would have been awesome, but that wasn't the plan.
Since the water taxis refused to run, the ship launched one of their PL boats – a 28-foot personnel launch – and ran back and forth to Fleet Landing and took us back to the ship. We boarded the PL one at a time as it bobbed and swayed against the pier. The boat got underway once we were aboard, and we all clung to something regardless of how much salt was coursing through our veins. It was no wonder why the water taxis refused to run. Waves crashed against the hull and into the boat. Flooding wasn't a concern but capsizing certainly was.
"Listen up!" the Boatswain's Mate bellowed over the raging sea. He joined us in clinging to something, but there was decidedly more confidence in his grip. He proceeded to tell us how we were going to get from the PL and get onboard Sara. We were going to pull alongside the ship underneath one of the sponsons, where a Jacob's ladder would be hanging. A Jacob's ladder is a rope ladder with wooden rungs. You've likely seen one at a fair or carnival where you have to scurry up one, ring a buzzer, and win a prize. The Jacob's ladder in this case would be hanging vertically. Once the PL hit the crest of a wave, we were supposed to grab hold of the ladder and start climbing as fast as we could. The PL would then dip down into the trough of the wave. We were told to start climbing immediately because once the PL began to rise in the crest, there was a very good chance we would slam into the boat as it rose rapidly. We were to go up one man at a time, and we were to climb the ladder sideways, which was supposed to be the easiest way. Once we were at the top, there would be Shipmates to pull us up off the ladder and onto the ship.
It sounded simple enough, except for one thing: I was terrified of heights. I'm not terrified of them any more thanks to doing things like this both in the line of duty and as a conscious effort to quell those fears. But at this point in my life, I had neither the opportunity nor inclination to face that fear. I wondered why they hadn't flown us on by helo, or why they wouldn't authorize us to rent a car and drive up to meet them in Mayport when the ship pulled back in two days hence. Such ponderings were, of course, pointless. My narrow ass was going up that ladder.
The PL boat shuddered and shimmied against the angry sea. We didn't seem to be getting any closer, but the range was definitely decreas
ing, albeit slowly. Our knuckles were white and ached from the death grip we had on whatever stable object we were clinging to. It seemed as though the closer we got, the slower we went. Sara seemed oblivious to the raging sea. She maintained her composure and seemed to hold her ground despite the wave's insistence. Eventually, we came alongside and all you could see off the starboard side of the boat was an enormous haze grey wall. The tiny PL boat which fought tooth and nail against the tide was dwarfed in comparison. The Boatswain's Mate barked the plan again, and we went up one by one. The PL pulled away several times because we were in danger of being smashed against the hull of the aircraft carrier. I stayed back for last, hoping whatever God there was would calm the seas, offering an alternative to this madness. Alas.
"You're the last one Shipmate! Let's go!" I stared blankly.
"SHIPMATE!" The Boatswain's Mate grabbed me by my shoulders and stared at my ashen face intently. His intent was to snap me out of my frozen state. Successful, his voice calmed but was no less stern.
"You've gotta get up that ladder. We can't stay here. We are all in danger. Once we hit the crest, grab the ladder sideways and climb as fast as you can." I nodded in understanding and crept towards where the ladder would soon be once we hit the crest. I stared hard at the ladder, and the wave propelled us up faster than I hoped. I clutched the rungs sideways as the PL boat dropped from beneath me.
"MOVE YOUR ASS, SHIPMATE!!!"
The PL was coming up FAST. I climbed as fast as I dared. The PL began to pull away. It was getting too close to the ship. I slowed my pace considerably. I heard two people shout "CLIMB" almost in unison. One came from below and was unmistakably the voice of the Boatswain's Mate. The other came from above. I made the mistake of looking up. I could see the ladder swing and sway. What little salt I had in my veins came to my rescue and blocked three days' worth of cheap beer from coming up. "DON'T LOOK UP SHIPMATE! JUST CLIMB!" I resumed my 
ascent, shaky but steady. There were several voices coming from above, the most prominent one belonging to the one who shouted "don't look up" a momentary eternity ago. The voices were close. I focused on the rungs and saw there were no more to grab hold of. The "don't look up" voice barked "GIVE ME YOUR HAND". I didn't have to look down to know it was a long way down, and I knew if I fell, that was it. I'd be hanging out in Davey Jones' Locker in no time. "GIVE ME YOUR HAND" the voice repeated. I loosened my grip on the top rung and made a feeble attempt at extending my hand, then instinctively brought it back down and resumed a death grip on the top rung. "GIVE ME YOUR GODDAMN HAND, SHIPMATE!" I bolted my hand up like a third-grader who knew the answer to the teacher's question. A hand gripped my wrist and I gripped the wrist of his hand and felt a violent and urgent yank. Other hands grabbed my arm and any other place they could find purchase. My body was hefted up and I landed on the nonskid of the sponson. I lay upon the deck like a trophy fish who was too tired to fight.
"You're ok, Shipmate," the voice said. I looked up and saw a fouled anchor. A Chief. He wasn't "my" Chief, but in that space, in time he was absolutely my Chief. "You're ok, Shipmate" he repeated and helped me to my feet. Stacey was standing nearby. He had a look that said, "what the hell just happened". We stared at each other in disbelief, shook our heads and, as we turned to get into some dry clothes, we heard someone report "Last man aboard".
Rendering Honors: Our 2021 Reunion, Nation's Capital, September 1-5
Join our Battle of Bulge-like breakout from the encirclement of the Covid-19 pandemic. All current and former members of the 14th Cav Regiment and their family members and friends are called to meet on Objective Honor, September 1-5 in Crystal City, Va., just minutes south of our nation's capital and all it offers.
We've planned exciting daily activities. Some offer once-in-a-lifetime, behind-the-scenes looks at familiar and not-so-familiar scenes. One activity offers the first-time-ever look. And every activity is intended to honor our national and military histories, including the 120th anniversary of our Regiment. The reunion promises to be long-remembered.
Exciting Nighttime Activities
We kick off on September 1 with the Welcome Stable Call hosted by Association president Jim Dunivan, 6 to 7 p.m.
After dinner at the hotel or a nearby restaurant, gather at the Regimental Watering Hole, a nightly on-site place where all can enjoy renewing friendships and exchanging "war stories" with old and new compatriots while munching finger foods and downing libations (paid by your registration fee).
A Range of Daytime Activities
Spend a day to "Honor Our Military Past." Attend rarely open-to-the-public activities and briefings by the U.S. Army's 3rd Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard). Hear Caisson Platoon members describe their duties and tour the stables, home to "Black Jack" (Serial # 2V56) at Joint Base Ft. Myer-Henderson Hall.
Then visit the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington National Cemetery and witness an Association-sponsored wreath-laying ceremony.
Also, hear from the Tomb Guard Platoon and then tour its Sentinels Quarters under the tomb. Finally, enjoy a leisurely box lunch and visits to the newly opened Desert Storm/Desert Shield Memorial, the Vietnam Memorial, the Korean War Memorial, and the World War II Memorial.
Also, take another day to "Honor Our Nation's Past" on the National Mall. Visit Smithsonian Museums: Air & Space, American History, Natural History, African American, and the American Indian museum (there take in the new "Warrior's Circle of Honor" designed by Harvey Pratt of the 
Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes). Or visit the National Gallery of Art and the National Archives. En-route, see the new Eisenhower Memorial.
And spend a day to "Honor (Pamper) Yourself." Sleep late. Take a stroll. Gather with friends on the hotel's patio or enjoy lunch together at a nearby eatery (List provided). Or, return to the museums or memorials, or go to the National 9/11 Memorial at the Pentagon nearby via Metro or taxi.
Finally, dedicate the final day, Sunday, to "Honor Our Army and Regiment." Tour the new gigantic, gleaming stainless steel-clad National Museum of the United States Army at Ft. Belvoir and take part in the unveiling of a special commemoration to our Regiment at the museum. In the evening, celebrate the 120th Anniversary of our Regiment at our Regimental Honors Banquet, followed by the Last Call at the Watering Hole.
Supply Room Open
Stop by the Regimental Supply Room to buy the latest in logoed gear or a Stetson campaign hat, a license plate frame, or a Regimental Print, for example.
Hotel Amenities, Reservations:
Reserve Before August 1
The modern, well-appointed, full-service Crowne Plaza Hotel is our host. Set back on a tree-lined street in Crystal City, it is but 15 minutes from Ronald Reagan National Airport and the National Mall. And it's on a Metro stop. See more below.
Reserve your room before August 1. That guarantees the special single or double occupancy room rate of $89.00 per night plus fees and tax. Call toll-free at 1-800-227-6963. Identify yourself as a member (or guest) of the 14th Cavalry Association and give them Group Code "CAV."Reservations made after August 1 can only be accepted on a space- and special rate-available basis.
The hotel has free shuttle service from/ to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport (Code: DCA) and the many nearby restaurants, although several are within walking distance, as is the Blue-Yellow line Metro stop. Underground parking is available at $20/day, a 50 % discount.
The hotel's Veranda Café serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner and its Potomac Bar & Grille offers lighter fare and drinks daily. Plus, its Starbucks has daily breakfast and lunch selections.
And it has a fitness center and an outdoor pool with a garden patio, a perfect place to pamper yourself.
Register Online, by Mail, or On-site Register early as well. That will ensure welcome materials and banquet entrée choices are available when you arrive.
The fee to participate in this 5-day event is $165 paid by check or $170 paid by credit card (relieving the Assn. of paying credit card processing fees). The fee covers the costs of Welcome materials, food, and libations at Stable Call and five nightly Watering Hole sessions, 3-days of coach transportation to memorials, monuments, and the Army museum, plus wine and your entrée/entrée's at the Regimental Banquet.
The fee to attend Sunday only, to visit the Army museum, and attend the Regimental Honors Banquet and Watering Hole, is $75.
Register online at www.14cav/org. Click on "Reunions/2021 Reunion" in the menu at the top of the page. Then, at the bottom of the linked page, click on the link to the Registration Form that applies to the payment method you want to make - online by credit card or by mailed check.
To pay by check, print the registration form and mail it with the check, payable to Secretary, 14th Cav Assn, 3800 NE 72nd Ave., Portland, OR 97213-5710.
Sword & Plough
Sword & Plough has been in the making since our founders, sisters Emily and Betsy, were born into a military family. Living at West Point, sharing Thanksgiving dinners with hundreds of soldiers in mess halls, hearing about her dad’s deployments and research, and watching her uncle, a Marine NASA Astronaut pilot, launch his space shuttle, are just a few of the experiences that inspired Emily to serve as an officer in the U.S. Army.
As a student at Middlebury College, Emily was the only ROTC cadet on a campus of 2,450 - most of her friends had never met someone in the military. After her sophomore year, Emily attended the U.S. Army Airborne School where she met soldiers who spoke of the struggles some of their veteran friends faced while attempting to gain employment after military service.
All of these experiences culminated in Sword & Plough's creation during Emily's senior year at college. After listening to an inspiring speech by Jacqueline Novogratz during Middlebury’s first social entrepreneurship symposium, a light bulb clicked on – Emily began to think 'What in my life is often discarded and could be turned into something beautiful with a purposeful mission?" How incredible would it be to repurpose military surplus material into durable and fashionable bags that people could use every day? By incorporating veterans into every stage of the business (from design to sewing, management, fulfillment, sales, even modeling), we could empower veteran employment. Through its branding and outreach, Sword & Plough could help bridge the civil-military divide. The repurposed bags could be used as conversation pieces and the company could become a platform to strengthen understanding between civilians and the veteran community. Inspired to give back to the veteran community through sustainable fashion, Sword & Plough was born!
Since Sword & Plough was founded in 2012, our team has worked hard to achieve positive and measurable impact while fulfilling our mission to strengthen civil-military understanding, empower veteran employment, and reduce waste. Sword & Plough is committed to our quadruple bottom line, which consists of social impact, environmental impact, purpose, and donating 10% of profit or 2% of revenue, whichever is greater, to veteran organizations.
We support social impact by supporting veteran employment at every stage of our business. This includes the design process, manufacturing, fulfillment, and sales. Since 2012, Sword & Plough has helped support over 65 veteran jobs through our own company and manufacturing partners. These include positions within our own management team, through our contract manufacturing partners (which are veteran-owned or partially staffed by veterans), through our veteran-owned fulfillment center, and through our Brand Champion program. Sword & Plough encourages any job-seeking veteran to send his or her resume and cover letter to jobs@swordandplough.com so we can try to help secure an employment opportunity either internally or within our expanding supply chain.
Another key part of Sword & Plough's mission is to reduce waste and minimize our carbon footprint on the world. By incorporating repurposed military surplus materials into our designs, we are able to significantly reduce our environmental impact as a fashion brand. We also manufacture exclusively in the U.S., which reduces our carbon emissions. To date, we have repurposed over 30,000 pounds of military surplus. Additionally, we use recycled materials in our packaging! Sword & Plough products are made in colors that are fashionable year-round, which reduces the need to purchase multiple bags! Your S&P bag might be the only bag you carry for years to come!
Sword & Plough is also committed to strengthening civil-military understanding. Our team knows that veterans are highly skilled technical professionals, problem solvers, and proven leaders who are empowering assets to civilian communities and companies. Through our social media, email, blog, and public speaking opportunities, we work to educate others about the value that veterans provide. Our customers love to share the conversations they have when stopped and asked “Where did you get that bag?” or “What is that bag made out of?” Those conversations are opportunities to bridge the divide and increase understanding between civilian and military communities. Do you have a similar story to share or an inspiring veteran or leader you’d like to highlight in Sword & Plough’s Inspiration of the Week? Email us at info@swordandplough.com with your submission!
We are proud to donate 10% of profits or 2% of revenue, whichever is greater, to veteran nonprofit organizations that align with our mission. You can view all of our veteran-giving partners on our website! We’ve also donated more than $45,000 worth of Sword & Plough products to veteran organizations. These in-kind donations have helped support over 100 additional veteran-related initiatives in areas of employment, education, health, housing, and leadership. In addition to making financial contributions, the Sword & Plough team members regularly donate their time to veteran-related service projects.
Meet the Founders
Emily Núñez Cavness, Co-Founder and Chairwoman. Emily is the Co-Founder and Chairwoman of Sword & Plough and a former U.S. Army Captain. During her military service, Emily graduated from Airborne School, served in the 10th Special Forces Group, deployed to Afghanistan, and was one of the first 100 women to try out for the U.S. Army’s Ranger Training Assessment Course. Emily channeled her passion for social entrepreneurship, civil-military relations, veteran empowerment, and sustainable design to embody the core values of Sword & Plough. Emily earned her B.A. in International Studies from Middlebury College and her MBA from Stanford Graduate School of Business. She is a White House Champion of Change and Forbes 30 Under 30 Fellow.
Betsy Núñez, Co-Founder and Director of Brand & Business Development. Betsy is the Director of Brand & Business Development and Co-Founder at Sword & Plough. As a strategist with years of experience in operations and business development, Betsy brings a creative and strategic perspective to the team. Betsy manages Sword & Plough’s sourcing, production, and key relationships with our five veteran-owned American manufacturers. Betsy is a Forbes 30 Under 30 Fellow and a Bold Academy Fellow. Passionate and dedicated to driving positive social change, Betsy's goal is to ensure brands, individuals, and noteworthy products are given a well-deserved and amplified voice. Betsy holds a B.S. in Nutrition and Dietetics from West Chester University.
Visit the Sword & Plough website and order today by clicking here
If you are engaged in a Veterans Owned Business that provides an interesting and beneficial service to Veterans, which you would like featured in Dispatches, please contact the Administrator HERE.
WASHINGTON - The 92nd Infantry Division, "Buffalo Soldiers," began to deploy to Italy in July 1944. They had spent more than a year training together at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, and were deemed ready to enter World War II. What made them unique was that they were only African American infantry unit operating in Europe at that time.
The segregated division, made up of primarily white officers and African American enlisted, was sent to the Gothic Line in the northern Apennine Mountains in Italy, Germany's last major line of defense against the Allied forces pushing north. They remained there throughout the winter with their one major operation - Operation FOURTH TERM - taking place in February 1945. Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency (DPAA) historians estimate the 92nd lost approximately 700 men during their time on the Line.
After the war, 53 men from the 92nd were still unaccounted for. In an effort to account for them, DPAA started the 92nd Infantry Project in 2014, but up to this point, have only been able to account for three of those men.
The greatest challenge in accounting for these men isn't lack of information or the ability to correlate remains buried as unknowns with the unaccounted-for, but not having the necessary DNA family reference samples (FRS) for comparison in order to make an identification.
"This is primarily a disinterment project," said Dr. Sarah Barksdale, a DPAA European-Mediterranean Directorate historian. "There are 51 unknowns buried in Florence American Cemetery that are most likely associated with casualties of the 92nd Infantry Division. We're trying to piece together the details of battle to make associations between those members of the division that are missing and the unknowns."
Barksdale is working with Dr. Traci Van Deest, the DPAA Laboratory 92nd Infantry Division Project Lead and forensic anthropologist, to review the records of the unknowns to create short lists of likely matches with the 92nd unaccounted-for to be able to propose disinterment and to compare to remains already in the laboratory.
"We know how many unaccounted-for or unresolved cases there are from the 92nd," said Army Col. Jon Lust, the DPAA European-Mediterranean Director. "We suspect all but two of them are unknowns in a cemetery. The problem we have is, by the rules we have to follow, if we don't have enough FRS, we're going to run the risk of knowing they're there, but we're not going to be able to either A) get the approval for the disinterment because we don't meet the threshold of FRS needed, or B) we will get the approval and the remains will end up in the lab and we won't be able to make the identification."
DNA analysis is one of the primary tools used by DPAA scientists to account for missing Americans. However, DPAA doesn't perform the analysis of collected DNA samples. That's handled by the Armed Forces Medical Examiner System's (AFMES) Armed Forces DNA Identification Laboratory located at Dover Air Force Base, Delaware.
"DNA testing performed by AFMES is one of the primary tools used in the identification of our fallen heroes from World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War, and, although AFMES is highly successful in generating mitochondrial and nuclear DNA results, those results mean nothing without an appropriate Family Member DNA Reference to compare it to," said Dr. Tim McMahon, AFMES Director of DNA Operations.
The Army Casualty Office is the organization charged with connecting with the families of the 92nd and asking them to submit DNA, but tracking down families of World War II-era service members can be difficult.
"There was a lot of relocation in the African American community after the war," said Lust.
Lust also said records are limited when it comes to family and individual movement.
Even when families are found, there can sometimes be a distrust of what the government is going to do with the DNA given because of past issues. However, there are now laws in place to prevent any kind of misconduct, and AFMES can only use DNA for the purpose intended by the donor.
"Family references collected and submitted to AFMES are protected under the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) and the Privacy Act, and the donor informed consent form," said McMahon. "The DNA profile that is added to the secure AFMES database can only be utilized to assist in the identification of our fallen heroes and is only accessible by AFMES forensic scientists."
Family DNA was a vital part of accounting for Army Pfc. William H. Jones, an African American Soldier who was reported missing in action during the Korean War and whose remains were part of the 55 boxes turned over to the U.S. by North Korea in 2018. Jones' brother and sister gave reference samples.
"My mother, Mrs. Elizabeth J. Ohree, always believed that it was very vital that we had a DNA sample to help identify the remains of her brother so he could be returned to the family," said Gregory Ohree, Jones' nephew.
Ohree said his mother started the process when she saw in the news how missing service members were being identified with DNA.
"It's important that families keep in contact with the military to get this information," he said. "I would strongly encourage family members, specifically African American families, to make the effort to give a DNA sample."
Ohree hopes other families can find the same kind of closure his family found.
"My mother never gave up hope because she knew that, after almost 70 years, one day her brother would be coming home."
Ultimately, DPAA's goal with the 92nd Infantry Project is the same as it is with all unaccounted-for Americans, to provide the fullest possible accounting of our missing personnel to their families and the nation.
"This is an outfit that faced the enemy in Italy, but also faced segregation from the War Department and their own countrymen," said Barksdale. "Bringing them home and honoring their service doesn't correct those injustices. However, the opportunity to return them to their families and tell their stories in an honest and open way I think is a really important part of our mission."
If you are family of someone unaccounted for from the 92nd Infantry Division, please contact the Army Casualty Office at (800) 892-2490 to arrange giving a DNA sample. If you know of such a family, please pass on the Army Casualty phone number and encourage them to help DPAA account for their loved one.
"The 92nd Infantry, along with all the other missing, are not forgotten," said Van Deest. "We're still working on the cases already received at the laboratory. We're still looking for FRS. We're still looking for ways to bring these remains into the laboratory in order to do the scientific work to identify them and bring them home."
Sean P. Everette
SFC, USA
Public Affairs NCOIC
Outreach and Communications
Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency
241 18th St. South, Suite 800
Arlington, VA 22202
(703) 699-1420
sean.p.everette.mil@mail.mil
James Patterson is the worldwide, best-selling creator of the "Alex Cross" and "Michael Bennett" series of books. Matt Eversmann is a U.S. Army veteran who received the Bronze Star Medal with Valor for leading a team of Rangers in Somalia in 1993. His exploits were depicted in the 2001 film "Black Hawk Down."
The two teamed up to create a touching, thoughtful book about the U.S. military, the people who join it, and veterans of three separate eras of conflict, "Walk In My Combat Boots," on bookshelves on Feb. 8.
"Walk In My Combat Boots" is a series of short stories, as told by veterans themselves. The stories cover the entire lifecycle of the veteran experience, starting before becoming a recruit, to war stories, to answering questions about military service from one's children.
Patterson said he was inspired to write the book after watching veterans' interviews and realizing he'd never heard stories from his own veteran family members.
"I had a minor connection to a documentary that Matt [Eversmann] did with another friend of ours, and I was watching some interviews thinking about how, when I was a kid, my father came back from where he went to," said Patterson. "He would never tell us anything about what happened. And a lot of families had that experience. … They just won't talk much about it."
But Eversmann can get veterans to open up a bit, according to Patterson. Eversmann said that telling veterans that James Patterson was going to write their stories up helped a lot.
"The interviews were 30, 40, 50 pages long," said Eversmann. "But we got the stories down to just five or six, one chapter each."
Eversmann, now a retired first sergeant, was delighted to gather the stories because he was excited to learn about a whole other side of military service.
"We hear from the generals; we hear the special operators," he said. "But you know, we never hear about the truck drivers, or the medics or the supply guys and gals. And you know, consequently, I learned so much about the military that, even after 20 years, I had no idea about."
"Walk In My Combat Boots" isn’t just about the post-9/11 generation of veterans. It includes stories from Desert Storm veterans and from the Vietnam era, as well. All of the stories get the Patterson treatment.
"When I'm writing fiction like Alex Cross, I will pretend there's one person sitting across from me, and I don't want them to get up until I finish," he said. "Some non-fiction, not all, but some, can be boring. We wanted this to be true, and we wanted to hold and capture the reader. We wanted people who served or fought in combat to read this book and say, 'Patterson and Eversmann got it right.'"
Patterson -- who has sold more books than any other author in the past decade -- stressed the importance of this book.
"This is the most important book I've ever done because it's going to change the way a lot of people feel about the military for the better, in my opinion," he said. "If you're one of those people that like to pretend that you know what the military is all about, you'll say, 'I had it all wrong. I had no idea what it means to serve.'"
Eversmann agrees.
"As veterans, we are supercritical and quick to call that we smell a rat," he said. "But the more we got into this, the more it was so apparent that these stories were something our brothers and sisters in the military would look at, understand immediately and say, 'I know what they're talking about. I know that kid.'"
"Walk In My Combat Boots" was a nine-month work for Eversmann and Patterson, and the result is an engrossing, thoughtful book that takes a very personal look into the veteran experience.
"The more we can understand people as people, is a great thing," Patterson said. "I think a lot of people are gonna understand things in terms of what their loved ones went through that they didn't before."
Bush could barely stand the wait to join the war. He wouldn't be old enough until his 17th birthday in the Fall of 1943. He and a friend from school dropped out and enlisted in the U.S. Naval Reserve.
Okinawa was going to be the primary Army, Navy, and Air Forces staging point for Operation Downfall, the Allied invasion of the Japanese home islands. Failure was not an option for the Americans. 
The bow doors opened, the armored amphibious tractor came out, and the Marines went ashore just north of Bolo Point on Okinawa. They were expecting to have to climb a sea wall, but the USS New Jersey had already leveled the wall. 
Bush began treating Roach with whole blood but soon saw Japanese soldiers pop their heads up out of the ridgeline. The Corpsman grabbed his officer's carbine and fired off a shot, still holding the blood bottle. Eventually, the officer began to recover, and Bush kept shooting. 
Robert E. Bush's Official Medal of Honor Citation:
Gibo, who died in 2014, was the owner of the Parlor Senri food stall outside of Camp Hansen's Gate 1 in Kin Town, Okinawa. Being just a mile away from the gate, his primary customer base was U.S. Marines and had been for a long time. 
"Taco rice is loved by both westerners and by the Southeast [Asians], especially the Okinawans," restaurateur Al Shipp told the KCET show "Meals Ready to Eat." 
"It was more like a snack - not very filling for Americans," Sayuri Shimabukuro, who now runs Parlor Senri, told Stripes Okinawa. "Matsuzo decided to substitute the taco shell with rice, which is relatively faster to cook and also filling, in order for the wait staff to explain the dish, he named it taco rice."
Bremer shut down the weekly paper because he believed it encouraged violence against U.S. troops in Iraq. It was only supposed to last 60 days, but the action would spark a series of events that led to a four-year siege and a series of battles between Coalition forces and al-Sadr's Mahdi Army.
By June, the United States controlled the suburb, one of the poorest in Iraq, but in name only. The area's inhabitants were still loyal to Muqtada al-Sadr. 
Concrete became the most powerful weapon of the war, an important development as the Iraqis would discover later in the fight for Sadr City. 
With the Mahdi Army pushed back into its Sadr City hideout, it was time for the U.S. to end the rocket attacks. Operation Striker Denial ran from March 26 to April 14, an attempt to cut out positions from which the Sadrist could fire rockets. 
The insurgents realized that snipers and IEDs were not going to stop the Americans from building the wall. Their last effort was to come out shooting, giving up the one advantage they had over the U.S. in urban combat: hiding in the city. Once they attacked in mass, the U.S. Army could identify and engage them with superior firepower. 
The 252nd Engineers (code name 'Cloudburst') were activated July 1943 and over the next six months grew to 31 officers and 740 enlisted men across four companies. Following extensive training at Camp Gruber (Oklahoma), the Louisiana Maneuver Area, and Camp Howze (Gainesville, TX) the unit was attached to Ninth Army and would remain so through VE Day. In April 1944, elements of the battalion were transferred to a provisional unit who would be the first to experience combat while clearing beach obstacles and mines at Omaha Beach on D-Day. In August 1944, the bulk of the battalion embarked from Camp Shanks (Orangeburg, NY) for a difficult eight-day Atlantic crossing on the liberty ships Howard Gray and Rollins Victory. 
In mid-November 1944, the battalion advanced into Holland (in the vicinity of Valkenburg) and had the distinction of conducting operations in three countries simultaneously: France, Belgium, and Holland. Meanwhile, the port of Antwerp opened, easing tensions surrounding the Allies' supply routes and accelerating the build-up of men and equipment at the front. For the engineers, this created unprecedented demand for bridges in the wake of German demolition and retreat. Spanning November and December the 252nd constructed three separate bridges, one of these to accommodate traffic competing with an armored division. Thinking outside the box, Company B (1st Platoon) built a second bridge beneath the primary roadway with armored vehicles passing a mere three feet overhead and put into service with only a forty-five-minute interruption in traffic flow.
Following the German retreat, the Allies launched a campaign in February 1945 with the goal of US and British forces advancing to the Rhine. Operation Veritable and Operation Grenade would form a pincer movement and trigger Operation Flashpoint in March, the Rhine River crossing. Once again, elements of the 252nd were transferred to a provisional unit, serving with distinction in support of the assault and bridgehead. Meanwhile, the bulk of the battalion was on the move again, building three trestle bridges during February and March near German strongholds (Venlo, Holland; Geilenkirchen and Munchen-Gladbach, Germany).
With Germany's surrender, the battalion moved to Herford, Germany, where it performed security duties and built an airstrip. In the background, the battalion was reassigned to Seventh Army and ordered to prepare for deployment to Japan, orders that were fortunately rescinded in June. Instead, the engineers undertook a final mission together with two other units, the Railway Bridge at Jossa, Germany. Despite a failed attempt by others in 1944 to repair the bridge and lacking training in its design, the engineers nonetheless completed construction in August 1945. As a tribute to these engineers, the bridge continues in service over seventy-five years later. 
Typical of units activated during World War 2 the 252nd Combat Engineer Battalion was formed with individuals from diverse backgrounds and locations: transfers, volunteers, and draftees. But despite these differences, there was, perhaps, a shared devotion to duty that compelled exceptional innovation and achievements throughout their mission in the ETO, earning them the right to go home. After more than thirty years of nightmares and other indications of PTSD, reflection by one of these citizen soldiers through tear-filled eyes may say it best, "I witnessed the best and worst of mankind and did a lot of killing I'm not proud of, hoping only that God forgives in time of war. But I love this country and if it is ever threatened I would willingly do it all over again tomorrow."
Aircraft carriers have a unique problem whenever they conduct a port visit. Typically, there isn't a berth that is wide enough or deep enough to allow us to come pier side, so we usually anchored offshore and water taxis were contracted to shuttle Sailors ashore. This caused long lines through the hangar bays during the day, and even longer lines at Fleet Landing – the term given to the area ashore where we caught the water taxi back to the ship – at Zero Dark Thirty when we were hammered drunk. The ride back while drunk provided a lot of entertainment, and often differentiated between the Old Salts and the Boots.
The mid watch and quick nap behind us, Stacey and I went down to the hangar bay to catch a liberty launch ashore. The late-morning sky was severely overcast and the ships' weather guessers predicted severe thunderstorms for the next few days. It looked like those fuckers guessed right. We could definitely rule out going to the beach, but there were plenty of bars to drink in where the rain wouldn't be an issue. We met up with our buddies, did a little shopping, and commenced to drinkin'.
There was a story on the news about liberty cancellation because the seas were too rough for the water taxis. The on-location reporter said that any Sailors that were still ashore needed to check in with Shore Patrol at Fleet Landing. Stacey and I closed our tabs, tossed a couple of bucks to the dancers, and headed towards Fleet Landing. We managed to hail a taxi and stumbled out of it once we arrived. The line of Sailors waiting to check-in told us we weren't the only ones who had the same great idea. We talked to some of the other guys in line. Word was that since the weather was out of our control, we would be allowed to stay ashore until the weather cleared and we could get back aboard. We had to check in with Shore Patrol twice each day to let them know we were alive, but otherwise, we were free to do whatever. Our turn came up.
of the local news told us it was going to stay like this for the next couple of days. As we got ready to make our way to Fleet Landing to check in with Shore Patrol, we discussed our financial situation. From what we saw on the local weather, we were going to be ashore for a couple days and we knew the cash we had both in our wallets and in our bank accounts would not last. Like most junior Sailors, we lived paycheck-to-paycheck. We decided to save the cash for when we actually went out. We'd put whatever we could on Stacey's credit card and split the bill halfway. And we'd pick up a case or two of beer to pre-game, so we didn't spend so much when we went out. As we put on our still-soaked clothes, we realized we had another problem: we didn't bring a change of clothes. We hadn't planned on being ashore so long so there was no point in bringing a bag, which was just going to slow us down at the bars anyway. We decided to figure it out later and headed to Fleet Landing. It wouldn't have mattered if our clothes were bone dry, they would have been soaked through in short order anyway. 
We were stranded in Miami for three days, each day much like the one before. We'd wake up hungover, shit shower and shave, check-in with Shore Patrol, get another case of beer, begin drinking, check-in with Shore Patrol, and continue drinking at whatever bar we saw that looked like they had cheap beer and cheaper women, lather rinse repeat. Daily sustenance consisted of pizza and hot wings. The morning of day 3, we realized that the rain really wasn't getting our clothes clean. We had taken to freeballin', but things get chafed that shouldn't when they rub against soggy denim all day. We called down to the front desk and asked if they had a laundry service, which they did. The staff knew who we were and made it a priority for us. They sent someone up to get our clothes, we answered the door in bedsheets (our towels were all dirty, one of us may have puked the night before) and we had them back about an hour and a half later. We watched the weather and although it had subsided a little, it hadn't let up enough for the water taxis to resume service. We knew we'd have to get back somehow because the ship was scheduled to get underway soon. We'd heard that there were about 100 civilians who came to tour the ship the first day and had to spend the night aboard. I'm sure they kept them out of gen pop and gave them staterooms and good meals. They helo'ed them off the following morning.
Since the water taxis refused to run, the ship launched one of their PL boats – a 28-foot personnel launch – and ran back and forth to Fleet Landing and took us back to the ship. We boarded the PL one at a time as it bobbed and swayed against the pier. The boat got underway once we were aboard, and we all clung to something regardless of how much salt was coursing through our veins. It was no wonder why the water taxis refused to run. Waves crashed against the hull and into the boat. Flooding wasn't a concern but capsizing certainly was. 
ing, albeit slowly. Our knuckles were white and ached from the death grip we had on whatever stable object we were clinging to. It seemed as though the closer we got, the slower we went. Sara seemed oblivious to the raging sea. She maintained her composure and seemed to hold her ground despite the wave's insistence. Eventually, we came alongside and all you could see off the starboard side of the boat was an enormous haze grey wall. The tiny PL boat which fought tooth and nail against the tide was dwarfed in comparison. The Boatswain's Mate barked the plan again, and we went up one by one. The PL pulled away several times because we were in danger of being smashed against the hull of the aircraft carrier. I stayed back for last, hoping whatever God there was would calm the seas, offering an alternative to this madness. Alas.
ascent, shaky but steady. There were several voices coming from above, the most prominent one belonging to the one who shouted "don't look up" a momentary eternity ago. The voices were close. I focused on the rungs and saw there were no more to grab hold of. The "don't look up" voice barked "GIVE ME YOUR HAND". I didn't have to look down to know it was a long way down, and I knew if I fell, that was it. I'd be hanging out in Davey Jones' Locker in no time. "GIVE ME YOUR HAND" the voice repeated. I loosened my grip on the top rung and made a feeble attempt at extending my hand, then instinctively brought it back down and resumed a death grip on the top rung. "GIVE ME YOUR GODDAMN HAND, SHIPMATE!" I bolted my hand up like a third-grader who knew the answer to the teacher's question. A hand gripped my wrist and I gripped the wrist of his hand and felt a violent and urgent yank. Other hands grabbed my arm and any other place they could find purchase. My body was hefted up and I landed on the nonskid of the sponson. I lay upon the deck like a trophy fish who was too tired to fight.
A Range of Daytime Activities
Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes). Or visit the National Gallery of Art and the National Archives. En-route, see the new Eisenhower Memorial.
The hotel has free shuttle service from/ to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport (Code: DCA) and the many nearby restaurants, although several are within walking distance, as is the Blue-Yellow line Metro stop. Underground parking is available at $20/day, a 50 % discount.
Sword & Plough has been in the making since our founders, sisters Emily and Betsy, were born into a military family. Living at West Point, sharing Thanksgiving dinners with hundreds of soldiers in mess halls, hearing about her dad’s deployments and research, and watching her uncle, a Marine NASA Astronaut pilot, launch his space shuttle, are just a few of the experiences that inspired Emily to serve as an officer in the U.S. Army.
We support social impact by supporting veteran employment at every stage of our business. This includes the design process, manufacturing, fulfillment, and sales. Since 2012, Sword & Plough has helped support over 65 veteran jobs through our own company and manufacturing partners. These include positions within our own management team, through our contract manufacturing partners (which are veteran-owned or partially staffed by veterans), through our veteran-owned fulfillment center, and through our Brand Champion program. Sword & Plough encourages any job-seeking veteran to send his or her resume and cover letter to 
Emily Núñez Cavness, Co-Founder and Chairwoman. Emily is the Co-Founder and Chairwoman of Sword & Plough and a former U.S. Army Captain. During her military service, Emily graduated from Airborne School, served in the 10th Special Forces Group, deployed to Afghanistan, and was one of the first 100 women to try out for the U.S. Army’s Ranger Training Assessment Course. Emily channeled her passion for social entrepreneurship, civil-military relations, veteran empowerment, and sustainable design to embody the core values of Sword & Plough. Emily earned her B.A. in International Studies from Middlebury College and her MBA from Stanford Graduate School of Business. She is a White House Champion of Change and Forbes 30 Under 30 Fellow.
Betsy Núñez, Co-Founder and Director of Brand & Business Development. Betsy is the Director of Brand & Business Development and Co-Founder at Sword & Plough. As a strategist with years of experience in operations and business development, Betsy brings a creative and strategic perspective to the team. Betsy manages Sword & Plough’s sourcing, production, and key relationships with our five veteran-owned American manufacturers. Betsy is a Forbes 30 Under 30 Fellow and a Bold Academy Fellow. Passionate and dedicated to driving positive social change, Betsy's goal is to ensure brands, individuals, and noteworthy products are given a well-deserved and amplified voice. Betsy holds a B.S. in Nutrition and Dietetics from West Chester University.
The segregated division, made up of primarily white officers and African American enlisted, was sent to the Gothic Line in the northern Apennine Mountains in Italy, Germany's last major line of defense against the Allied forces pushing north. They remained there throughout the winter with their one major operation - Operation FOURTH TERM - taking place in February 1945. Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency (DPAA) historians estimate the 92nd lost approximately 700 men during their time on the Line.
"We know how many unaccounted-for or unresolved cases there are from the 92nd," said Army Col. Jon Lust, the DPAA European-Mediterranean Director. "We suspect all but two of them are unknowns in a cemetery. The problem we have is, by the rules we have to follow, if we don't have enough FRS, we're going to run the risk of knowing they're there, but we're not going to be able to either A) get the approval for the disinterment because we don't meet the threshold of FRS needed, or B) we will get the approval and the remains will end up in the lab and we won't be able to make the identification."
The Army Casualty Office is the organization charged with connecting with the families of the 92nd and asking them to submit DNA, but tracking down families of World War II-era service members can be difficult.
Ohree said his mother started the process when she saw in the news how missing service members were being identified with DNA. 
James Patterson is the worldwide, best-selling creator of the "Alex Cross" and "Michael Bennett" series of books. Matt Eversmann is a U.S. Army veteran who received the Bronze Star Medal with Valor for leading a team of Rangers in Somalia in 1993. His exploits were depicted in the 2001 film "Black Hawk Down."
"When I'm writing fiction like Alex Cross, I will pretend there's one person sitting across from me, and I don't want them to get up until I finish," he said. "Some non-fiction, not all, but some, can be boring. We wanted this to be true, and we wanted to hold and capture the reader. We wanted people who served or fought in combat to read this book and say, 'Patterson and Eversmann got it right.'"