JOE FOSS, AMERICAN HERO

By DELL ARTHUR

            Featured on display at a small museum in Pierre, South Dakota, hangs an officers Marine Corp uniform. Its owner is listed as one of the United States greatest wartime hero’s. It is the uniform worn by Major Jacob “Joe” Foss, Congressional Medal of Honor holder who during World War fought with the “Cactus Air Force” during the battle at Guadalcanal. During that battle Foss was credited with officially shooting down 26 Japanese aircraft.

            Not bad for a young man who left the farm at age 19 in order to learn how to fly.

            It wasn’t easy for a determined young man who had to work on the family farm following the tragic death of his father in an accident. But as determined as he was he moved to Sioux Falls to finish his education. He worked at a gas station to make enough money for tuition and after graduation from high school he continued working as a “bus boy.” By 1939 he graduated from the University of South Dakota with a degree in business. During his college years he took advantage of a CAA flying course and received his private pilot certificate.

            Then came the war. Foss enlisted in the Marine Corps. Graduating from the Navy flight school he was anxious to fly fighters. “Too old,” he was informed. At the old age of 26 he was delegated to a Marine Photographic Squadron where he languished. Finally he was able to get “checked out” in the stocky little Grumman F4F that was the mainline fighter airplane in service at that time.

            After the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor Foss was anxious to get into combat. America’s first offensive in the Pacific was an island known as Guadalcanal. With the assault of American marines the fight teetered back and forth until the tenacious marine’s finally captured the island dirt airport. With the strip secured and named “Henderson Field,” after another American hero, Naval and Marine aircraft had a place to operate.

            On his first combat mission Foss scored his first “kill.” In the following two months he ran the score up to 26—Tying World War I ace Eddie Rickenbacker. For his exploits Foss was presented the Medal of Honor by President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Following the presentation he was ordered on a national bond drive before returning to combat.

            Following the war Foss returned to South Dakota. Released from active duty he located at Sioux Falls and opened a civilian flight school. Later he bought a car dealership and expanded his business opportunities. During this time he also joined the South Dakota National Guard and as commanding officer, he was instrumental in the development of the Guard’s air arm.

            Then in 1950 the Korea War erupted. Called to active service by the United Stated Air Force Foss served as Director of Operations and Training for the Central Air Defense Command where he achieved the rank of Brigadier General.

            After the end of combat Foss returned to civilian life and took an interest in politics. He was elected to the State Legislature and at the age of 39 became the state’s youngest governor where he served two terms.

            Following political life Foss held many other distinguished positions. He was featured on a national television game show, “Two for the Money.” But the political “bug” again set in! Foss, as a Republican, ran for a Congressional seat but lost to Democrat George McGovern, and in 1962 ran for the vacated Senate seat left by the death of Senator Francis Case who died in office, but lost to Joseph H. Bottom.

            As an ardent hunter and fisherman Foss was elected President of the National Rifle Association. He also served as the first commissioner of the American Football League. Among his close friends were John Wayne, Charlton Heston and many other distinguished persons.

            In October 2002 Foss suffered a cerebral aneurysm and died three months later. This writer had the honor of meeting and knowing this great man. My fondest memory was when I first met him as a young newspaper reporter, When he was introduced to me I recall my saying “…It is a great pleasure to meet you Governor.” His response was simple. Looking me in the eye and giving me a firm handshake he replied, “…Hell Dell, just call me Joe!” Several times after that we met on similar occasions and he never changed. He had a love of country that can only be equaled only by others of his same spirit and courage. Unfortunately there seems to be few like his breed today and as a result America suffers.

PANHANDLING, A NEW INDUSTRY

By Dell Arthur

It seems a new industry has emerged here in the United States; the professional panhandler.

At many intersections it is common to see someone holding a cardboard sign professing a need for money. Some state, “Family of three homeless,” or “Out of work,” or “Hungry anything helps.” And there are others who profess “Will work for food.”

All for the most part are phony pleas for money, period. For those with altruistic feelings they keep these folks in business—and some make out rather well. One friend of mine offered a vagrant who had a sign stating he would “work for food” five dollars to wash his car and the guy turned him down!

True, there are some folks in actual need but for those I have personally talked with most prefer to sit on the sidewalk and beg.

One of the most outlandish and dishonest sign holders I have encountered is a guy sitting in a chair at an intersection holding a sign, “DISABLED,” in large letters and below, “VETERAN.” The caveat, however just below the “DISABLED” in incredibly small letters hardly identifiable are “and a.”

Deception, obviously, has its own benefit.

It happens that a friend, Jim Pace, a 100 per cent disabled service connected Vietnam veteran himself, and who also is a service representative for veterans, stopped and talked with this “disabled veteran.” What he discovered was more than interesting.

Jim told the panhandler that if he was a service connected disabled veteran there were numerous programs to help him get off the street. As it turned out the guy was in fact disabled but his disability had nothing to do with military service. And as a veteran he told Pace that he wasn’t interested in any programs—he was satisfied sitting along the intersection, holding his sign, sipping coffee and waiting for the next sucker to feed his pocketbook.

Many of the people begging on the streets do have actual need. But ever since the State of Washington, where I reside, closed the state mental health hospitals, the result of the ACLU efforts to close them, there is no place these unfortunate people can go for proper medical care. Public charities are crowded and are overwhelmed with those seeking shelter and food. But for the professional panhandler they have taken advantage of people who truly want to help in some way.

I had the occasion to talk with many of the sign holders only to learn that the majority of them find begging more profitable collecting money from strangers than work. One fellow told me that “…I’d rather be out here than flip hamburgers!”

Looking through the local daily newspaper the classified employment section lists all kinds of jobs unskilled people could qualify for. Another friend of mine in his 80’s decided to get a job with Safeway Markets with full benefits. He got it! Now if a guy at 82 can get a job, then how can obviously physically younger men justify standing on a corner holding a sign begging for money?

In addition it also turns out that many vagrants in our community qualify for food stamps, free cell phones and many other benefits. These by the way are the folks who are most critical of our liberal government! They say they need more.

Yet the answer seems for many of these people to be the lack of proper medical help. I saw one vagrant patiently holding his sign next to a parking lot adjacent to a super market. A day later I visited this same market and in front of me in the checkout line was this same vagrant holding a gallon of cheap wine. This apparently is how he spends his money once acquired by begging.

A lot of these people are unemployable because of their alcoholism or drug usage. Is there an answer for this problem? Yes but it would take the cooperation of the person in need. Again going back to the guy who said he would prefer to beg rather than “flip hamburgers.” He related that there is a group of vagrants who live in the nearby woods. They have established a social and economic community and share (or steal sometimes he said) whatever they have. This includes tents, bedding, canned foods donated by local food banks, and other necessities. All in all they live in a form of comfort even during the rain and snow seasons. You simply learn to adapt he said. Once you learn how to live on the street everything becomes simple.

This same fellow told me that in this community you may find vagrants who once held professional positions and had families. One person he said, had been a practicing lawyer. What circumstances reduced him to a life on the streets was unknown. One rule of this vagrant community is you never ask questions.

As troubling as it is, it is distressing to see these people living as they must just to survive. Yet it is a choice. In the greatest country in the world abounding with opportunity the answer to the need of these unfortunates is completely missed. More liberal government has never corrected the error of modern society. In fact government has added to the problem. With legislation such as legalizing marijuana and other “recreational drugs” the pattern of degeneration of society continues unabated. Freedom has responsibility and unfortunately those living in desperate need have not fully come to the fact that in order to survive they must make an effort to change their lives. Also service organizations, especially churches, have the responsibility to meet the needs of these people without hindrance of government intrusion. But for those who simply do not want to participate or earn their keep there is no solution.

The truth is there simply is no such thing as a free lunch—even for the professional panhandler.

SEPTEMBER 11, A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

By DELL ARTHUR

            This past Friday, September 11, was the anniversary of the most horrific tragedy experienced by the United States since the attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941, when terrorists flew two high-jacked airliners into the Twin Tower Trade Centers at New York City. Nearly 3000 people died as a result. The effect on Americans was disbelief and anger—neither was a war declared nor any identifiable enemy army to confront.

As a result of the unprecedented attack all aircraft, both civilian and commercial, was ordered to make an immediate landing wherever possible. All across America airplanes, large and small, landed at any airport able to support them. Aircraft flying from foreign countries headed for the United States had to change course and land wherever they could. Canada opened their airports allowing airliners to seek refuge. Once on the ground Canadians opened their homes, school gyms and any other facility to harbor their new guests in the emergency. For the first time in aviation history the skies across the nation was silent with the exception of military fighters patrolling high overhead.

For Doug Hawley, chief pilot and director of operations for Ross Airlines, the day was starting out with a visit to his dentist. Sitting in the chair the news was just starting to hit the airwaves. Thinking a small airplane had hit the buildings he was shocked to learn that instead two airliners had deliberately smashed into the buildings. There was no question in his mind that this was an act of terror. Quickly he called his office and confirmed the tragic news.

Ross Airlines had only one client—the Department of Energy. Based at Albuquerque, New Mexico all of their work centered on delivering precious and sometimes secret material to various government facilities. Returning to his office he stood by awaiting instructions from the DOE. Shortly after his arrival he was contacted to fly to Dallas, Texas to pick up several high level government officials and then on to Washington, D.C.

The only airplane available was one of the companies Lear jets that was flying from Phoenix, Arizona back to their Albuquerque base when the towers were hit. The crew was instructed to land immediately but since their airplane was nearly at their destination controllers allowed them to continue.

Packing a bag Hawley contacted the Federal Aviation Administration and contacted FAA operations inspector Ken Hand to help file a flight plan. It took the full day to get approval for the flight before he was able to head for Texas to pick up his passengers. By now it was darkness. Arriving at the airport he was astonished at the tight security. He said it took about 10 minutes for security personal to finish inspecting his car he recalled. Finally he got to his airplane and headed for Texas on the first leg of his nocturnal flight.

Once he picked up his passengers he took off and headed east to Washington, D.C. “We were tired. It had been a long day” he recounted. Once at altitude under a clear star-studded

black sky he felt a sense of loneliness. “Usually when you fly at night you can hear airplane pilots talking with center or now and then to each other,” he said remembering the incident. But this night the sky belonged to only two civilian aircraft—his and an emergency mercy flight carrying a human heart for transplant.

Flying a direct course for Washington he bypassed the regular airways normally flown by aircraft on instrument flight plans. As he concentrated on his instruments he heard two military F-16’s calling center asking who this Lear jet was heading east. Looking out he saw a jet fighter right on each of his wing tips. “At that point I turned on every light on the airplane!” he said.

The military jets were advised that Hawley’s airplane had special permission to fly on to Andrews Air Force Base. As the flight continued both of the military jets flew close formation with him. Nobody was taking any chances.

The time passed swiftly and the darkened sky of middle America quickly gave way to the lights of metropolitan cities. Reaching Pennsylvania Hawley started his let down in preparation to landing. The small Lear jet was flying at high speed and it covered the remaining miles quickly. Finally center called and gave him instructions. By this time the Air Force jets were flying right on his wings and continued the let down with him. As he approached Andrews one of the jets pulled ahead and Hawley did a turn to give separation. Apparently the Air Force jets were running low on fuel and since Hawley was obviously no longer a threat, landed ahead of him just as two other Air Force jets were taking off to take their place in the sky.

Hawley’s stay at Andrews was short. The next day he filed a return flight back to Albuquerque. Leaving his hotel he got a cab to a ride back to the airport but found all the gates were locked. Traffic he said was backed up for miles. “A lot of the security people were wearing uniforms and one gate was even guarded by a tank!’ he said. Once on the base he headed for a bus for a ride to his airplane. “I made eye contact with the MP guarding the main gate and the soldier briskly said, “…There’s your bus, get on it!”

Now with daylight Hawley took off. Looking down at the Pentagon he could see the black smoke where the third hijacker crashed into the building.  It was a sight he would remember for the rest of his life.

The uneventful flight back to Albuquerque required only one fuel stop. Pressing on he finally ended his unique flight. For the next 12 days he stood standby and for the following six weeks he was busy ferrying DOE back to Washington, D.C. and elsewhere.

On the night of September 11, 2006, Hawley and the lonely mercy flight were the only two civilian airplanes in the night sky. It would be several days before normal flights would resume but 9-11 would always be a night to remember for Hawley.

STORMEY WEATHER

By DELL ARTHUR

            We apologize for not publishing last week and the lateness of this week. We usually publish on Sunday but a series of mishaps interrupted. In addition we were moving into a new house and as a consequence, to use an exhausted phrase, we had a full plate.

            My better half, Kathleen and I bought a new home and were swamped with closing. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. The day before close we spent an hour and a half signing papers with the title company. I am not exaggerating; the pile of papers we had to sign stacked up to about four inches and we and the agent went through the stack page by exhausting page, indicating where we had to sign, and explaining each document. Since I never had interest in law school I found the process exasperating! Finally the deed (no pun intended) was done and Kathleen and I left the office exhausted. But that was only the start. Next we had to arrange for moving.

            All of this could be tolerated if the heavens above had cooperated. But by Thursday, the day I usually set aside for writing, one o wicked storm ever to hit the northwest part of the United States hit. Believe me, it was a doozy!

            The news reported that some 500,000 people over Oregon, Washington and parts of Montana suffered power outages. The wind in our area hit peaks of 50 M.P.H. uprooting trees and knocking down power and telephone lines. Then the power went off at our location. Usually when this happens work crews are able to get the electric lines back in service quickly and we had hopes it would be restored within an hour or two. This turned out to be wishful thinking. It took over 12 hours before the lights flickered back on. Going to my computer I found it impossible to get online. I couldn’t check email, transmit messages, scroll through news items or file a story.

            It was worse out in the county.

            The following day I took a trip around town and observed huge trees laying across streets, telephone poles down—one gingerly leaning across some power lines, and general pandemonium. Power company workers were working clearing branches and trees and trying to reconnect power lines. Many of them were working for up to 24 hours at a stretch trying to re-establish service to the most needed areas. In the Seattle area two storms related victims were killed—one by a falling tree branch that smashed into his car as he was driving. His passenger suffered minor injuries.  The other was a young girl who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

            Regardless of their hard work power workers found more than they could cope with. In some areas power and telephone service wasn’t restored for as long as a week. And there were additional costs as well.

            After the storm passed and things took on a sense of normalcy stacks of garbage, spoiled meats, perishable vegetables, cartons of eggs and milk and fruit was stuffed in overfilled dumpsters and garbage cans. The threat of vermin was also high and a serious concern.

            But now things are settled down. We are in the new home, Jake our 18 and a half poodle mix is getting acquainted with his new surroundings and the weather has returned to what is considered normal. Living in the Northwest can be an adventure in itself. But the beauty and serenity of this land is an inducement never to leave. And one thing I promise you; if anyone ever again in this lifetime suggests that we move again they will take their live into their own hands! If it hadn’t been for our daughter Jennifer and our wonderful son-in-law Royale and grandson Amondo, we would never have been able to complete the task.

            Now that things are settled down I can concentrate on the column and hopefully provide you, my loyal readers, with copy that will continue to interest you.

            Thanks for reading.