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[caption id="attachment_4115" align="alignleft" width="300"]
Brian Macy, a sergeant with the Connecticut Army National Guard's 250th Engineer Company, gets into the ring during his comeback to professional boxing during a bout at the Mohegan Sun resort in Uncasville, Conn., Feb. 4, 2011. Photo by Army Sgt. 1st Class Debbi Newton, Connecticut National Guard Public Affairs Office[/caption]
HARTFORD, Conn. His boxing fans eagerly awaited his return to the ring. After two years away, hopes were high for the young boxer. He came into the arena in red, white and blue trunks and robe over an Army physical fitness t-shirt. The crowd cheered.
Brian Macy, a sergeant with the Connecticut Army National Guard's 250th Engineer Company, gets into the ring during his comeback to professional boxing during a bout at the Mohegan Sun resort in Uncasville, Conn., Feb. 4, 2011. Photo by Army Sgt. 1st Class Debbi Newton, Connecticut National Guard Public Affairs Office[/caption]
HARTFORD, Conn. His boxing fans eagerly awaited his return to the ring. After two years away, hopes were high for the young boxer. He came into the arena in red, white and blue trunks and robe over an Army physical fitness t-shirt. The crowd cheered.
"Ladies and gentlemen, in the red corner, wearing the red, white and blue trunks, making his long-awaited return to the ring after a year-long deployment to Iraq with the U.S. Army -- Brian Macy," boomed the ring announcer as Macy faced each side of the arena at the Mohegan Sun resort in Uncasville on Feb. 4 and rendered a boxing-gloved salute to the crowd.
Macy is a sergeant in the Connecticut Army National Guard. A single father, he is determined to make the best life possible for himself and Charlie, his four-year-old son.Macy, 27, started boxing when he was age 10 and quickly became someone to watch. He won the National Police Athletic League title in 2000 and had racked up 150 amateur bouts before turning professional.
The super middle weight fighter said his parents told him he couldn't fight professionally unless he earned a college degree.
So he did. Macy has a bachelor's degree in liberal arts from the University of Connecticut. He also is taking classes in music business management from Berkeley School of Music in Boston. He plans to get his master's degree in education and wants to teach special needs children.
On April 21, 2009, Macy joined the Connecticut Army National Guard, enlisting with the 250th Engineer Company as a way to help pay for school and support himself and Charlie. He trained as a bridge engineer and deployed to Iraq with his unit for a year, taking him out of the boxing ring.
His first sergeant in Iraq, Army Master Sgt. David Moorehead, has nothing but praise for Macy as a man and as a soldier.
"He is a very good soldier," Moorehead said. "He came in older. He definitely joined the Guard with a plan in mind. He is a very normal person, well-liked by all. He is such a polite guy and would help anyone do anything. He came so willing to learn, to get involved."
Macy worked as gun truck driver in Iraq. Moorehead said Macy did not forget boxing while he was deployed.
"Somehow he found himself a heavy bag and he would work out on it. He gave boxing lessons to some of the soldiers."
Now a New London resident, Macy has a very strict schedule. He gets up early each day and is running at 5 a.m. He takes his son to school and then heads to a nearby military installation to work out in the base gym.
After the workout, he goes to a local Starbucks where he takes advantage of the free Wi-Fi to do his on-line music courses.
He picks up his son and either takes him to Charlie's grandmother or drives halfway across the state to Middletown to train with "Iceman" John Scully, someone Macy calls the "best trainer there is."
Scully has a long history as a boxer himself as a light heavyweight. He qualified for the 1988 Olympic Trials and fought for the International Boxing Federation world title against Michael Nunn in Leipzig, Germany. He also has done boxing commentary for ESPN.
When asked why he would travel so far on a daily basis just to work with a specific trainer, Macy simply said, "He's the best."
Macy works out at the gym generally from 4:30 to 6:30 p.m. every day and then travels the hour plus back home. It makes for a long day -- but this is all part of his plan.
A single dad, Macy wants to make the best life he can for Charlie. Seeing them together, one easily sees the love the father has for his son.
Macy has another love -- music. He is working on hip-hop music videos as producer, writer and performer. He sees boxing as a way to help him in music.
"The dedication and structure it takes to be a boxer helps keep you focused,' he said. "I hope the name I am making in boxing will help open doors to me in the music business, as well."
Macy said his time in Iraq gave him time to think and plan.
"The National Guard has opened up a lot of opportunities for me," he said. "I don't have to rely solely on boxing to make my living. I will be able to get my master's degree."
Macy said he also has learned about discipline. "The discipline I have learned in boxing has helped me in life and in the Guard," he said. "And the Guard has taught me that a day is 24 hours long and you can get a lot out of it with discipline."
Macy said he often is asked why he chooses to box.
"Not the money," Macy joked. "I just love it. I like the art of it. I like the old-time fighters." He mentioned greats Pernell Whitaker and Willy Pep as two favorites.
"The defensive aspect of [boxing] is what I like," he said. "They were the greats. They were the best. They weren't sluggers. They were artists in the ring."
Scully called Macy a "boxing enthusiast" who studies boxing and boxers.
"He wanted to be in the limelight since I first met him," Scully said of Macy. "He loves being in the ring. He has the discipline. [But] he has to become a little more regimented in his training."
Back to the arena at Mohegan Sun.
The bell rings and Macy enters the center of the ring against his opponent, J.C. Peterson of Fort Myers, Florida. It looks like it might be an uneven match-up. Macy is taller, appears to be in better shape, and he has the better record.
But Peterson has longer arms -- providing a longer reach in the ring -- and Macy is fighting his first bout in two years.
Peterson dropped Macy with a strong left jab in the first round. It shook Macy up, but he got up and continued boxing.
It took Macy until the third round to get his feet solidly under him again. By the end of the third round, those that knew boxing were saying it looked like he might have come back enough to be even with Peterson.
The fourth and final round started and it looked like Macy was coming on strong.
The two pugilists battled to the final bell and both appeared to think they'd won. Several people ringside said it was too close to call and could go either way, but that Macy had looked good.
The ring announcer called both fighters to the center of the ring for the judges' scores. The first judge scored the fight 38-37 in favor of Peterson. The second judge scored it 38-37 in favor of Macy. The crowd waited and the fighters looked straight ahead, confidence fading from both of their faces.
The third judge gave the fight to Peterson, 38-37. Macy had lost the bout.
It was a heartbreaking return to the ring for Macy, Scully and Macy's fans. But Macy was philosophical about his loss.
Sitting in the locker room with Charlie falling asleep in his lap, Macy talked about the fight.
"He [Peterson] was a tricky fighter and I couldn't execute," he said. "After throwing a punch or counterpunch, I couldn't follow through. I have to give him credit. And I was probably not as patient with the jab as I should have been."
So why does he keep fighting?
"That guy," said Macy, pointing to Scully sitting next to him. "Getting the training from him is like a drug. Other [trainers] are like Tylenol. This guy is like hard-core narcotics."
Nearly two weeks after the comeback fight, Macy wondered: Is boxing still part of his future?
Macy said he doesn't know. The money is not great and it does cost money to box. He has gym fees, trainer's fees, and equipment to pay for. He has a contract with a promoter, and a publicist.
Yet, being a single dad supporting his son is his first priority, he said.
Since the fight with Peterson, Macy has gotten a part-time job at an electric supply company. He plans on taking the accelerated Officer Candidate School program with the Guard.
Macy would like to keep boxing professionally. He would like to get back into the ring. He loves the sport. He loves the discipline.
But he loves his son more.
"I don't want to end up a punch-drunk fighter," Macy said.
That doesn't mean he has given up boxing. It just means he's keeping his options open and moving forward with his plan.
March 1, 2011: By Army Sgt. 1st Class Debbi Newton- Connecticut National Guard
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[caption id="attachment_4126" align="alignleft" width="300"]
Defense Secretary Robert M. Gates, left, talks with Frank Buckles, the last living American World War I veteran, during a Pentagon ceremony March 6, 2008. Buckles died Feb. 27, 2011 at age 110. DOD photo by R. D. Ward[/caption]
WASHINGTON Frank Woodruff Buckles, the last surviving American World War I veteran, died yesterday at his West Virginia home. He was 110.
Defense Secretary Robert M. Gates, left, talks with Frank Buckles, the last living American World War I veteran, during a Pentagon ceremony March 6, 2008. Buckles died Feb. 27, 2011 at age 110. DOD photo by R. D. Ward[/caption]
WASHINGTON Frank Woodruff Buckles, the last surviving American World War I veteran, died yesterday at his West Virginia home. He was 110.
Sixteen-year-old Buckles enlisted in the Army on Aug. 14, 1917 after lying to several recruiters about his age."I was just 16 and didn't look a day older. I confess to you that I lied to more than one recruiter. I gave them my solemn word that I was 18, but I'd left my birth certificate back home in the family Bible. They'd take one look at me and laugh and tell me to home before my mother noticed I was gone," Buckles wrote in 2009.
Buckles tried the Marines and Navy, but both turned him away. An Army recruiter, however, accepted his story.
"Somehow I got the idea that telling an even bigger whopper was the way to go. So I told the next recruiter that I was 21 and darned if he didn't sign me up on the spot!" he wrote.
Buckles earned the rank of corporal and traveled England and France serving as an ambulance driver. After the Armistice in 1918, Buckles escorted prisoners of war back to Germany. He was discharged in 1920.
In 1942 Buckles worked as a civilian for a shipping company in the Philippines, where he was captured in Manila by the Japanese the day after they attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. He spent three and a half years in the Los BaƒÂ±os prison camp. He was rescued on February 23, 1945.
Buckles married Audrey Mayo of Pleasanton, Calif., in 1946. The couple moved to his Gap View Farm near Charles Town in January 1954 where Buckles reportedly continued to drive his tractor until he was 106.
On February 4, 2008, with the death of 108-year-old Harry Richard Landis, Buckles became the last surviving American World War I veteran. Since, Buckles championed veterans' causes, was invited to the White House and honored at the Pentagon.
In March 2008 Defense Secretary Robert M. Gates honored Buckles during a Pentagon ceremony in which officials unveiled a World War I veterans' exhibit.
"Whoever views this display will, I am sure, feel a connection to Mr. Buckles and his comrades-in-arms," Gates said. "We will always be grateful for what they did for their country 90 years ago."
Buckles, then 107, received a standing ovation from the mostly military audience.
"I feel honored to be here as a representative of the veterans of WWI and I thank you," Buckles said.
Buckles is survived by his daughter, Susannah Buckles Flanagan. His wife, Audrey, died in 1999.
In a White House statement issued today President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama saluted the fallen veteran.
"Frank Buckles lived the American Century," the President stated. "Like so many veterans, he returned home, continued his education, began a career, and along with his late wife Audrey, raised their daughter Susannah. And just as Frank continued to serve America until his passing, as the Honorary Chairman of the World War I Memorial Foundation, our nation has a sacred obligation to always serve our veterans and their families as well as they've served us.
"We join Susannah and all those who knew and loved her father in celebrating a remarkable life that reminds us of the true meaning of patriotism and our obligations to each other as Americans."
Feb. 28, 2011: By Fred W. Baker III- American Forces Press Service
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Being Chairman of Support Our Troops®Â I am compelled to write regarding the mistreatment of former Army staff sergeant Anthony Maschek Sunday February 20, 2011 at a Columbia University forum.
"I went to Columbia" just doesn't have the ring to it than it used to. In fact I don't know if I would hiring anybody from the place since so many of the people attending it, and so many of the people running it, seem to have parted paths with normalcy years ago.
Gone are the days where students of character practiced well-mannered debate of issues.  Now, many higher universities appear to breed thugs of limited thinking and analytical ability, rotten little imps of a five year old mentality lacking civility or realistic reference points from which to proceed in conducting themselves on any subject.
I am 55. I was privileged to go to four universities, among them Oxford and Vanderbilt. Anthony Maschek is 28, and a freshman economics major at Columbia. He was privileged to get shot 11 times for you and me doing his duty for you and me in Iraq. He was in the Army 10th Mountain Division, to which SupportOurTroops.Org has over the years shipped tons of morale and well-being support. What went wrong happened Sunday during a college forum simply discussing the ROTC on the Columbia University campus. As reported by the New York Post, Anthony, who is disabled and in a wheelchair, attempted to discuss the military and his experience in it for the benefit of those in attendance who were opposed to the ROTC.  I mean, it is sometimes nice to receive some actual first-hand facts during a discussion instead of just theory. Here, Columbia's little leftists called Anthony a racist. They hissed him. They booed him. Now, I must admit I'm a little confused how a white man who went halfway around the world to get himself shot up defending brown skinned Arabs, working to create a better future for their brown skinned Arab kids, is a racist.   But I'm just trying to think clearly here. Anthony also spent two years in Walter Reed recovering from his wounds, while these little idiots ran around in la-la land enjoying the benefits of a vast social support system paid for by others, and while others like them sent anonymous hate mail to his fellow wounded soldiers at Walter Reed. For its part, SupportOurTroops.Org chose to ship tons of peaches, popcorn and other treats to Walter Reed. These crazy students don't get into this condition by themselves.  The point of sports camp, and school classes is to train people. And that takes a trainer, and Columbia apparently has been stocking up on a lot of crazy trainers and tolerators. As for booing and hissing Anthony, well, these little leftists-in-training by Columbia are pathetic.  Having done nothing of substance themselves in the real world, they set about trying to demean a man in a wheelchair. Apparently no matter how much facts one dumps into this group of people, they suffer from something causing an arrested emotional development, similar to bipolar disorder, wherein they are stalled at a certain age level in processing information and controlling their behavior. There has to be a psychological or DNA component at play here, because these students are at one of the supposedly best colleges, where they are surely being challenged in accurate thinking by their professors and taught formal logic, informal logic, gentlemanly conduct, and debate. There is no rational explanation for their behavior, or line of argument if one could call emotionalism and ad hominem attack a line of argument.  And yet the ivy league is presumed to teach rationality. And any good university course on logic will teach you about the logical fallacy of the ad hominem argument, in which one personally attacks the messenger, rather than debating analytically the message. Perhaps Columbia should start screening for mental illness during the admission and tenure process I can say that in the normal world, I have found that it usually takes a long time for a rational discussion in any setting to reach the pitched level where one side begins spitting venom at the other. What is interesting is how quickly these little leftists reached that level. But then when one is arrested at the emotional age level of say a five-year-old, I guess all one can do when uncomfortable information confronts them is to rebuff it by screaming at the other fellow. So they laughed at their opponent. And they jeered him.  This apparently is what Columbia has largely been producing for some time, and will likely produce well into the future.  Not much good stock to hire from it seems  Perhaps what's left of the reputation is an illusion from a former better history. Anthony is a man. They are ugly little children who will be no better after their education than before. They fall into the increasing group of citizens who seem genetically predisposed to process matters emotionally instead of analytically or logically.  Perhaps it's the result of chemicals in the environment, or defective DNA.  But the poorest dumbest persons I have known in this country have much better manners and practical judgment than this bunch of spoiled, idiotic brats. They really need to leave their ivory tower and spend a few years digging ditches, pouring concrete, and stacking block with the rest of us; maybe then they'll have a better idea of how the world really works and how people properly treat each other. Fortunately for him, being a real man who is done real things Anthony's feelings will not be hurt by this incident. I know his type.  He will look politely with pity and hope for betterment upon these little vacuous underlings who have yet to contribute anything practical to the betterment of mankind.  While they wish him ill, he will wish them well and self-improvement. This is because he belongs to the class of citizens who have good character. Rare and precious is the man and woman who steps up for another at risk to themselves. Many pictures show just how precious they are to the overseas children flocked around them in happiness grateful for the opportunities they bring. And then there are the note with those photos expressing "this is why we're here." So for my part, I ask that God bless and watch over Anthony.  And that God find some way to teach the others how to drag themselves up out of the gutter so that they might be worth something in heaven when this is all over with down here. This writing is just my opinion, and you of course are free to form your own. Though I'm not sure that little animals like these would let you if they were in charge If you want to read the original news report on this, you can do so at the following New York Post link: http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/manhattan/hero_unwelcome_Zi3u1fwtRpo87vXAiAQfSN Listen to the audio Martin C. Boire, Chairman Support Our Troops® February 21, 2011 They Support Us Let's Support Them!
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WASHINGTON Nearly 45 years after he saved almost an entire company of fellow Marines in Vietnam, a Marine Corps veteran was formally recognized today for his actions.
photo: Navy Secretary Ray Mabus presents the Navy Cross to Ned E. Seath at the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Quantico, Va., Feb. 11, 2011. Seath also received a Bronze Star with "V" for valor from actions in 1966 during the Vietnam War on the night before the actions that earned him the Navy Cross. U.S. Marine Corps photo by Lance Cpl. Christofer P. Baines  Navy Secretary Ray Mabus presented Ned E. Seath with the Navy Cross -- the second-highest award a Marine can receive for valor -- in a ceremony at the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Quantico, Va. Then a lance corporal, Seath was serving as a machine gun team leader with the 3rd Marine Division's Company K, 3rd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment, when he halted an assault of North Vietnamese soldiers July 16, 1966, using an M-60 machine gun he reassembled from spare parts. But his story of heroism was tucked away when his service in the Marine Corps ended.
Seven years ago, his story resurfaced during a battalion reunion, leading to a movement started by Bill Hutton, who served with Seath, to recognize Seath's heroism.
"All I could think was they're going to be overrun us and they were going to kill us all," Seath said. "I had Hutton and Bennett on my flanks with fixed bayonets holding them off. They gave me a good two more minutes to make one good gun."
His unit, one of the four Marine battalions in Task Force Delta, was called into action to support Operation Hastings, an effort to push the a North Vietnamese army division out of South Vietnam's Quang Tri province. The company's mission was to establish a blocking position in the middle of an enemy trail network.
Led by platoon commander David Richwine, now a retired major general, Seath's role was to provide machine-gun fire to aid in disrupting North Vietnamese army activity in the area. After landing, Seath's company soon came upon a reinforced enemy platoon waiting for the Marines in a defensive position.
During the ensuing onslaught, Seath moved to obtain a disabled machine gun from a wounded Marine nearby, building an operational M-60 machine gun out of two inoperative weapons, and he quickly returned devastatingly accurate fire to the oncoming enemy.
One of the weapons simply malfunctioned, Seath said, while another fire team a few fighting positions away could provide only semi-automatic fire. He pulled out a clean poncho, grabbed some grease and a brush, and went to work on the two weapons to craft the one the Marines so desperately needed.
Richwine said Seath began laying down machine-gun fire in the prone position. As his field of fire became obstructed by enemy casualties, he completely disregarded his safety as he knelt at first and eventually stood up, fully exposed to enemy fire, to continue repelling the enemy's advance.
"Everyone was fighting for their lives," Richwine said, noting that the advancing enemy was closing in. "Several Marines even had affixed bayonets. Seath was providing well-aimed, disciplined machine-gun fire, which ultimately killed their attack. It was a combined effort stopping the enemy, but Seath was the guy with the tool to do the job best - all while in the dark."
All that illuminated the sky that night was sporadic flairs from passing aircraft, but what lit the battlefield was the tracer rounds -- red streaks from the Marines and green streaks from the North Vietnamese army, Richwine said.
"If it weren't for Ned Seath, I'd be buried right now in Arlington [National Cemetery]," said Hutton, who fought alongside Seath during that battle. "We were surrounded and outnumbered. But Ned didn't quit. He went above and beyond the call of duty. He saved a company of Marines."
By this night, only the second night of the operation, Seath was very familiar of the possibility of dying on the battlefield for the sake of his fellow Marines. Just 24 hours earlier, he had rushed to the aid of two wounded Marines under heavy machine-gun fire that already had claimed the lives of two Marines, and dragged them to safety. For these actions, he received the Bronze Star Medal with a "V" device for valor, which was presented along with his Navy Cross.
"What Ned went through - what he did - is emblematic of the Marine Corps," Mabus said. "This is one of the biggest honors I have. Ned Seath is a hero."
Feb. 11, 2011: By Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Christofer P. Baines- Defense Media Activity Marine Corps
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[caption id="attachment_4163" align="alignleft" width="300"]
Brady Rusk, 12, gets a somber kiss from Eli, a bomb-sniffing military working dog, during a retirement and adoption ceremony at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, Feb. 3, 2011. The Labrador retriever was assigned to Brady's older brother, Marine Corps Pfc. Colton Rusk, who was killed in Afghanistan. U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Bennie J. Davis III[/caption]
LACKLAND AIR FORCE BASE, Texas "Whatever is mine is his," Marine Corps Pfc. Colton W. Rusk wrote about Eli, his military working dog, in the final days of their deployment in Afghanistan.
Brady Rusk, 12, gets a somber kiss from Eli, a bomb-sniffing military working dog, during a retirement and adoption ceremony at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, Feb. 3, 2011. The Labrador retriever was assigned to Brady's older brother, Marine Corps Pfc. Colton Rusk, who was killed in Afghanistan. U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Bennie J. Davis III[/caption]
LACKLAND AIR FORCE BASE, Texas "Whatever is mine is his," Marine Corps Pfc. Colton W. Rusk wrote about Eli, his military working dog, in the final days of their deployment in Afghanistan.
Yesterday, Rusk's family helped to prove his words true when they adopted the black Labrador retriever in a retirement and adoption ceremony at the military working dog school here.After Rusk, 20, was killed Dec. 5 in Afghanistan's Helmand province by Taliban sniper fire, Marine Corps officials told Darrell and Kathy Rusk, his parents, that Eli, the young Marine's infantry explosives detector dog, crawled on top of their son to protect him after he was shot.The Rusks drove here from their home in Orange Grove, Texas, along with their sons -- Cody, 22, and Brady, 12 -- as well as Rusk's aunt, Yvonne Rusk, and his grandparents, Jan Rusk and Katy and Wayne O'Neal.
Marine Corps Staff Sgt. Jessy Eslick of the Defense Department's military working dog research and development section handed the leash to the family, praising Eli as "a dog that brought Marines home to their families."
[caption id="attachment_4164" align="alignleft" width="300"]
Eli, a bomb-sniffing military working dog, was assigned to Marine Pfc. Colton Rusk, who was killed Dec. 5, 2010, in Afghanistan. Eli loyally stayed by his handler's side, even biting at Marines trying to move their fallen comrade. Rusk's family traveled to Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, Feb. 3, 2011, after officials granted permission for them to adopt the dog. U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Bennie J. Davis III[/caption]
Eli immediately began licking Kathy Rusk's palms and fell into the arms of his former handler's father.
"In his last letter we got the day before we buried him, at the very top was a little smudge that said 'Eli's kisses,'" said the fallen Marine's mother, who wore a two-sided pendant with a photo of her son on one side and another snapshot of him with Eli on the other. "[Colton] thought whatever was [his] was Eli's. "We're Colton's family, so it's just right that we're Eli's family now."
Eli, a bomb-sniffing military working dog, was assigned to Marine Pfc. Colton Rusk, who was killed Dec. 5, 2010, in Afghanistan. Eli loyally stayed by his handler's side, even biting at Marines trying to move their fallen comrade. Rusk's family traveled to Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, Feb. 3, 2011, after officials granted permission for them to adopt the dog. U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Bennie J. Davis III[/caption]
Eli immediately began licking Kathy Rusk's palms and fell into the arms of his former handler's father.
"In his last letter we got the day before we buried him, at the very top was a little smudge that said 'Eli's kisses,'" said the fallen Marine's mother, who wore a two-sided pendant with a photo of her son on one side and another snapshot of him with Eli on the other. "[Colton] thought whatever was [his] was Eli's. "We're Colton's family, so it's just right that we're Eli's family now."
Eli, who was trained in the military working dog program here, reportedly is the second working dog the Marines discharged to permit adoption by a fallen handler's family. Cpl. Dustin J. Lee's family adopted his German shepherd, Lex, after the Quitman, Miss., Marine died from wounds he received in a mortar attack in Iraq's Anbar province March 21, 2007. The corporal's family worked for nine months with an online petition and congressional help to secure the adoption.Kathy Rusk said her family didn't have as many obstacles in their quest to adopt Eli. Texas Gov. Rick Perry started the process of working with the Marines on the dog's discharge, and Scooter Kelo, who trained Eli and also taught Rusk on working with the dog, also helped to make the adoption possible."It gets our mind off the sadness of losing Colton," she said, "just knowing we're going to have a little piece of Colton in Eli. I just wished he could talk and tell us some stories. Just to know we're going to be able to share the love we have for our son with something that he loved dearly."
Rusk joined the Marines after he graduated from Orange Grove High School and committed himself to the Marines the same week that his best friend, Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Justin Rokohl, lost both legs in southern Afghanistan. Rusk deployed to Afghanistan on his 20th birthday, with Eli, as part of the 3rd Battalion, 5th Regiment, from Camp Pendleton, Calif.
"He wanted to be a Marine since he was 10 years old," his mother said of her fallen son. "We talked to him about maybe going to college first, but he said he had to fight for his country first."
[caption id="attachment_4165" align="alignleft" width="300"]
The family of Marine Corps Pfc. Carlton Rusk, who was killed Dec. 5, 2010, in Afghanistan, greets Eli, his bomb-sniffing military working dog at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, Feb. 3, 2011. Defense Department officials granted the Rusk family permission to adopt the dog. U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Bennie J. Davis III[/caption]
Rusk often told his parents how dogs like Eli were well-trained here and in South Carolina, where he was trained as a bomb detector dog handler.
"We've had dogs all of our lives," Darrell Rusk said. "Since all of the boys were babies, they had one. Colton was probably the better handler of the bunch. When he went to train in South Carolina, he said, 'Dad, we don't know how to train dogs. These dogs here will bring you a beer, they'll open the can for you, but sometimes they'll drink it for you, too.' He said that was how well-trained the dogs were, and he was really amazed how much you can do with a dog once you've worked with them."
The dog Rusk liked to call "My boy, Eli" earned a reputation for wanting to be wherever his handler was. Eli didn't want to sleep on the ground; he slept in Rusk's sleeping bag. They even ate together outside after Rusk found out that Eli wasn't allowed to eat in the chow hall.
"He told a story of when they were in the chow line one time," the fallen Marine's father said. "One of the Marines kicked at the dog one time and told him to get the dog out. Colton and the Marine got into a little scuffle. They told Colton he could stay inside and leave the dog outside, but from then on, Colton and Eli ate outside. That's how tight he and the dog were."
The family met Eli once when they visited Rusk at Camp Pendleton the week he deployed. After the retirement and adoption ceremony, the Rusks took Eli to their home on more than 20 acres of land, which he will share with the family, their horses and three German shepherds.
Jan Rusk said this was another way to honor her grandson's memory, but it also will help the family as they continue to cope with their loss.
"Eli was a part of Colton, and now they have a little part of Colton back," she said.
Feb. 4, 2011: By Randy Roughton- Defense Media Activity-San Antonio
The family of Marine Corps Pfc. Carlton Rusk, who was killed Dec. 5, 2010, in Afghanistan, greets Eli, his bomb-sniffing military working dog at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, Feb. 3, 2011. Defense Department officials granted the Rusk family permission to adopt the dog. U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Bennie J. Davis III[/caption]
Rusk often told his parents how dogs like Eli were well-trained here and in South Carolina, where he was trained as a bomb detector dog handler.
"We've had dogs all of our lives," Darrell Rusk said. "Since all of the boys were babies, they had one. Colton was probably the better handler of the bunch. When he went to train in South Carolina, he said, 'Dad, we don't know how to train dogs. These dogs here will bring you a beer, they'll open the can for you, but sometimes they'll drink it for you, too.' He said that was how well-trained the dogs were, and he was really amazed how much you can do with a dog once you've worked with them."
The dog Rusk liked to call "My boy, Eli" earned a reputation for wanting to be wherever his handler was. Eli didn't want to sleep on the ground; he slept in Rusk's sleeping bag. They even ate together outside after Rusk found out that Eli wasn't allowed to eat in the chow hall.
"He told a story of when they were in the chow line one time," the fallen Marine's father said. "One of the Marines kicked at the dog one time and told him to get the dog out. Colton and the Marine got into a little scuffle. They told Colton he could stay inside and leave the dog outside, but from then on, Colton and Eli ate outside. That's how tight he and the dog were."
The family met Eli once when they visited Rusk at Camp Pendleton the week he deployed. After the retirement and adoption ceremony, the Rusks took Eli to their home on more than 20 acres of land, which he will share with the family, their horses and three German shepherds.
Jan Rusk said this was another way to honor her grandson's memory, but it also will help the family as they continue to cope with their loss.
"Eli was a part of Colton, and now they have a little part of Colton back," she said.
Feb. 4, 2011: By Randy Roughton- Defense Media Activity-San Antonio
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[caption id="attachment_4180" align="alignleft" width="300"]
nLt. Cmdr. Ronda Hartzel, a Navy nurse, met with a reporter from her hospital bed at Bethesda National Naval Medical Center where she is being treated for breast cancer, Feb. 2, 2011, Bethesda, Md.[/caption]
WASHINGTON Lt. Cmdr. Ronda Hartzel is a Navy nurse who worked diligently to maintain her healthy lifestyle. She routinely worked out, ate lots of salads and no red meat, and never smoked. When she found a lump in one of her breasts, she didn't think too much of it.
nLt. Cmdr. Ronda Hartzel, a Navy nurse, met with a reporter from her hospital bed at Bethesda National Naval Medical Center where she is being treated for breast cancer, Feb. 2, 2011, Bethesda, Md.[/caption]
WASHINGTON Lt. Cmdr. Ronda Hartzel is a Navy nurse who worked diligently to maintain her healthy lifestyle. She routinely worked out, ate lots of salads and no red meat, and never smoked. When she found a lump in one of her breasts, she didn't think too much of it.
"I had a few friends with a bad mammography read, and another whose mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer," Hartzel said. "That motivated me to be seen."That was Dec. 31, 2009.
Stationed as an operating room nurse on a fleet surgical team at San Diego Naval Medical Center, Hartzel was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer at age 36. In January 2010, she asked to be reassigned to the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md., where she had been stationed before.
"But when I got here," she said, "they found it was in my ankle and my hip. So, I was diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer, which was pretty devastating."
When the 14-year Navy officer arrived at Bethesda, she said, her long hair was intact and she still felt like herself. She comforted herself with the fact that she had no family history of the disease.
"Slowly but surely, you start to let go," Hartzel said. "Cancer doesn't discriminate. It takes on anybody and everybody."
Hartzel's medical regimen for her breast cancer didn't include radiation. Instead, she had chemotherapy once a week for six months, followed by six months of chemo every three weeks.
She had a double mastectomy in August, followed by removal of her ovaries the day before Thanksgiving. The next day, she ran in a local turkey trot race.
"The doctors didn't want me to, but I wanted to in case I wasn't here next year," she said.
Hartzel received breast implants Dec. 16.
Losing her hair proved the most difficult part of the entire process, Hartzel said. She shaved her head because the chemotherapy made her hair fall out.
"Looking in the mirror, I didn't see myself at all," she said. "I struggled with it, but you get to the point where you have to fight. I learned very quickly if I had a positive attitude and tried to pick myself up, it makes a big difference."
Hartzel said she felt invisible. When people saw her in the hall, most said nothing.
"They wonder what's wrong with you. They want to ask, but don't know what to say to you," she said. "Other people just avoid you, because they can tell something's wrong."
Yet, she said, some positives marked her diagnosis, surgeries and treatments, noting she's had support from the hospital staff, family and friends while soothing the fears of other women with breast cancer.
"The Navy's been great to me, and I've always felt a lot of love and that's why I came [to Bethesda]," she said. "It always felt like home to me."
Still, said Hartzel, who recently was selected for promotion to commander, there are only so many times you can tell your story, especially when you know it's devastating to your friends and family.
"My mother is still struggling," she said. "She's in denial."
After her diagnosis, Hartzel said, she wondered if she could have done something to prevent the cancer.
"I wondered, 'Maybe I should have come in sooner; it might have made a difference,'" she said. "I think I did everything I possibly could. I was in the best shape of my life. I was working out every day. Sometimes you have to realize some things are out of your control."
Cancer can make a person do a lot of bartering, Hartzel said.
"As a Stage 4, I wish I could go back to a Stage 2," she said. "When I was a 2, I wished I could go back to a Stage 1. I decided I'm going to live every moment just like it's my last. None of us knows how much time we have left on this Earth."
Hartzel noted that she just returned from Hawaii. "I don't put things off any more." She said. "I make sure I take the opportunities."
In two or three weeks, Hartzel will have all of her scans repeated to see if the cancer has spread to her bones or anywhere else.
"This could be my last chemo," she said while lying on a gurney undergoing a treatment. "I am determined to be a success story and beat the odds. I want to be one of those 20 percent who lives."
Feb. 3, 2011: By Terri Moon Cronk- American Forces Press Service
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