A tizzy of a day here that was part of life’s treasure. Got word Grace has found a line on suitable lodgings for herself and we may be able to pull the handle on the unit at Big Pink as the summer real estate market comes on and there is real optimism on getting us both positioned in decent housings as the leaves come in.

My Big Meetings loomed and dropped in next to the bed at Goodwin Regab, where I successfully donned clothing to go out in the town. Hospital gowns are easier! The impending morning and afternoon sessions had driven the energy to actually get up, get a haircut, and abandon the gown to return to life in the Big City.

This Army-Navy Country Club in historic South Arlington for the annual Naval Intelligence Red Tie Luncheon was Target One. The venue was superb and I am still a member. It is on the ligh ground of what had been the line of Union Civil War fortifications with suitable steep earthen embankments. In Virginia.
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Merriment Rufus Greer provided the ride from Goodwin Rehab to join up with Mike the Marcher of the Hawaii Ohanna whose professional embrace has lit a half century festooned with conflicts that had names of temperatures, Cold and Hot and Terror. With JoeMaz and The Frags and Jacobys and Barkells bright at the tables, the laughter lit the afternoon.

Rufus managed arrivals and departures with aplomb. Target One- the semi-formal luncheon- was a tremendous success. The ANCC staff carried off delivery of cuisine with a writhe dance of a dozen staff presenting the food in delightful syncopation.

Despite minor personal travails, I was able to keep my head up and the wheels on my chair engaged. The remarks from Admirals Sharp and Whitworth about the current status of the Naval Intelligence Community were astute and refreshing. The mathematics of thought and power were refined in a manner defining the new role of the community as real war-fighters. We had always acted as it if were true, and that day is now defined in the calculus of conflict.

With precision, the formal affairs wrapped up after desert. The khaki-clad participants returned to duty and those in Red Ties returned to duty managing the back-story of Affairs in Town.

The effort to hit Target One was worth it to me in these times of trouble. Our leaders included Tom Brook, who helped draw a plot line across the waves as some of us returned to navigate in their chaotic motion.

The Hawaii Ohana prepared for Happy Hour filled with memories of the hunt for Soviet SSBN’s and Wolf Packs of sleek Victor III nuclear attack subs at the approaches to Cape Flattery and the Pacific Northwest.

Those were some of the days and source of some of the laughter and the terror. The emotions over Target One had been intense, and I realized that if I was to continue this pace on this day rolling in on another Target, it might jeopardize the ones to come over the District of Columbia, I would be better advised to pull the handle on this day’s Target Two.

Squadron Buddy Bronco had provided the means to do so. Although I had to take this target as a wave off, seeing the crowd made me honored to be on the path to recovery. I looked around at the people who define the calculus of the operational art I knew. And was proud to be part of it.

It was a memorable afternoon, I thought, reaching down for the ejection handle to get to the car home. I will take a pass on Target Two today in order to strike Target 3 directly tomorrow. And all those targets to come in the coming summer here in DC!!!

I heard somebody say it one time: “Two Outta Three ain’t bad!”

And to do do successfully, all you have to do is chat with the surgeon and avoid pulling the handle down in front of the “Lift Here” incorrectly. I have to do that in order to successfully engage Target Three Tomorrow, and according to the Surgeon, all the ones to come after that!

You might want to step back a little. Me and Bronco gotta go talk to the Doc. We are committed to success!

CLICK. BANG. WHHOOSSHH!!!!
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V/R
JR
PHOTO CRDIT BRINCO B.J. DYSART