notmovingpictures Episode 66: No Place In My Heart For Nazis

This is a volatile topic I felt I had to speak out on. I tend to wait for perspective after an event like what happened in Charlottesville but also because the story keeps constantly evolving, especially when you have a President who likes to hear himself talk.....or tweet or whatever.

There is a racial epithet spoken as I share a moment that happened while I was in the U.S. Army. I felt it was important to show that racism exists in our military and feel that I can only do that by sharing the exact words that were spoken to me by another service member. He thought I would agree with his opinion. I did not.

Where do we go from here?



Opening music: Alloy - Live To See The Day
Closing music: The Special AKA - Racist Friend

Email: notmovingpictures@gmail.com  Twitter: @notmovingpics
Blog: www.notmovingpictures.blogspot.com

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

I Stood Waiting

I stood waiting in front of the barracks building that housed me and my classmates at Fort Benjamin Harrison. My uncle had told me to be there at a certain time and my cousin would pick me up to bring me to their house for a home cooked meal. If you’ve ever been sent to military training and been away from home you know just how big a deal that is. Of course I bragged to my classmates as I daydreamed about what wonderful food I would be served. They were jealous but in a good natured way. Glad for me but wishing it was them. Just the idea of being around people who had nothing to do with the Army had us all excited. It seemed it was a fortuitous thing to have been assigned here after all.

My uncle, aunt and cousin and I weren’t exactly close, mainly because of the distance between our homes. They lived in Indianapolis, Indiana while I lived in tiny, little Ironton, Ohio. Growing up, if we saw each other more than twice a year it was out of the ordinary. The times we saw each other my cousin and I always did hang out with each other though. Regardless, we were family and they had offered to feed me and let me get away from the post for a few hours. The thought of it all brimmed with the excited aura of what seemed like normal life from before I had joined the military and was engulfed into their way of doing things. So still, I stood waiting in front of the barracks.

After a time doubts began to slip into my brain, after all, my cousin should have been here by now. To counter those thoughts I came up with possible reasons for the delay. Perhaps traffic was excessively bad or maybe he had to work late. Maybe they really didn’t want to see me. Wait, no, I couldn’t think like that. He was now more than an half an hour overdue so I went inside and tried to call their house to see if the plans had changed. There was no answer. I walked back outside as my anxiety level slowly ratcheted higher and higher. Time went by. After more than an hour had passed since the original agreed upon time, once again I went inside to attempt to call them. Once again, no answer. I walked back outside where I stood waiting.

What a sad, pitiful sight I must have been. This lonely scarecrow waiting and waiting as his faith in family slowed slipped away. More than two hours had passed before I finally gave up my last shred of hope and dignity and I slowly shuffled back inside. I tried calling one more time. The result was the same, no answer. My classmates were asking why I hadn’t gone and all I could do was hang my head and mumble “I don’t know.” The rest of the day I spent by myself, withdrawn and disappointed. No longer standing out front waiting but waiting inside my head. That’s the day I learned that the idea of extended family was overrated and not to be trusted. I never did call them again for the rest of my time in training at Fort Ben Harrison. As a matter of fact I never spoke with them even at the funerals that came later. I guess I gave up waiting.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

Veteran's Day And Service, What Counts?

Last year I wrote a post about finally admitting that I am a veteran. Not that I was ashamed of it or anything but for me I always have tended to downgrade what I do or have gone through. The fact that I was not in combat somehow seemed to negate what I had done, even when friends and family would say nice things about my service. So though I gave up a chunk of my life for the 1^st Gulf War, I looked at it as if my service was on a lower scale than others. Plus I'm not what I'd call a showy person, I'm not the guy you'll see wearing anything that would identify me as veteran nor do I go around talking about my time in the military. I know I did it and so do my loved ones and that's enough for me.

The thing I’ve come to learn after all these years is that service is service. No matter what your job was or the length of time you served nothing can take away the fact that you served. Does this mean that I think that all service members are now equal? No, I still put the combat veterans on a pedestal for what they sacrificed and what so many lost. However now I’ve raised the rest of us veterans to a higher level, not that any other veteran cares a bit about what I thought.

So yesterday for the 2nd year in a row I went out and took advantage of restaurants giving a free meal to veterans. It’s kind of hard for me to believe that it took me so long to get around to it. I mean I got out of the U.S. Army in 1995 and 2012 was the first year I really accepted a free meal? If you knew me at all while I was in college or in the Army you’d know that as a single guy (or separated guy living in the barracks) wherever there was free food I could be found. When you’re not sure where or when you will find your next hot, home cooked meal you took advantage of free food wherever you could find it. And I did that well. At least I've got that going for me.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

More Than Just Time

I was listening to some Will Hoge tonight and got inspired. This is what came out:

More Than Just Time

Needed a job so I signed on the dotted line
Spent eight years in the ranks
Before I decided to move on
One wife came and went
Took almost as long to leave her behind
 It ended up costing me more than just time

Away from everything I’ve ever known
My life has been left behind
Traded my view of right and wrong
Stood in my booted feet in the shifting sand
Wasn’t supposed to have chambered a round
Never had to kill my fellow man

My father served as his did before
When I look in my son’s eyes
I don’t want this to go on anymore
Some secret man hiding behind secret walls
Send the best off to die somewhere else
Always with profits in his eyes

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

Care To Prove You're Different?

I've always known I was different but in reality I am proof that God has a sense of humor. That is a bold statement but I can back it up with proof. If you look beyond my personality (which some might say is proof enough) and look at my physical side you will begin to see how true my statement is. First are my legs. I'm bowlegged and slew footed which together combines for a strange look.

Every time I had to do the sitting stretch during my time in the military I always had difficulty doing it in their prescribed manner. To do it you sit on the ground with your legs stretched out in front of you with your feet pointing up. Then you simply lean forward and try to touch your toes or go even further if possible depending on your level of fitness.

It always seemed as if I should be able to reach a lot further than I actually was. Then it occurred to me that if I allowed my legs to lay in their normal state, that is legs stretched out and toes pointing outward with my feet horizontal, I would be able to fully stretch myself out and reach past my feet. It does look very abnormal when I sit that way but it's how I'm comfortable so I go with it.

About eight years ago or so I was taking an Aikido class and found out that my elbows are weird as well. We were doing a drill in which you have wrist control on your opponent and take them to the ground face first. There with their arm twisted you put the back of their hand against your chest and lean forward thereby locking it in with your hands free to wreak havoc if need be.

My partner for the exercise did everything properly only to have me simply pull my arm out. Convinced he was doing something wrong he said let's do it again. After many repetitions which all ended in the same manner he gave up and called our instructor over. The Instructor watched us perform the drill once again and then stated "Oh, Don's just put together weird" which is such a wonderful thing to hear.

He showed us how if you make a fist and put it on your hip with your elbow pointing outward then you can feel where the point of your elbow is. For most people it is in the middle but for weird people like me it's somewhere different, in my case it's on the outside. That was what was allowing me to pull my arm out but once armed with the knowledge that someone can do that you merely have to rotate the arm a little more in order to lock it out.

But wait. there's more. I can pop my ankles while standing although I'm pretty sure that's not so good for you. I used to be able to stretch my right hand out and turn it back and forth rapidly and it would produce a clicking sound but that went away in the last year. Then there's my snapping scapula which doesn't hurt and....well I could go on with more tales of my weirdness but I guess that's enough for now. It's all just proof that I am one weird put together dude, not that it wasn't apparent at first glance.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

Time To Admit Who I Am

Okay I'll finally admit it. I am a veteran. There, I said it. It's not that I have been trying to hide the information or am ashamed of my service or anything like that. Quite the contrary, I am proud to have served almost eight full years in the United States Army including the Gulf War. I just don't see a need to advertise it. I've heard people call all service members, especially those who have gone to a war, heroes and I don't agree with that view at all. I was just a guy doing a job. That's as simple as it gets. I never saw combat and never was tested to see if my training would kick in or not. My specialty was personnel records which I ended up knowing quite well.

There was no altruistic thought behind joining nor no patriotic state of mind. Indeed, I simply joined the Army for a job. Tired of living a life that seemed to be going nowhere and not desiring to return to college where I was racking up debt after two and a half years (all without knowing what I wanted to major in) I instead chose to join up and perhaps see a bit of the world if I was lucky. My service first led me to a two year tour of Germany, then on to Ft Hood, Tx and the 1st Cavalry Division which in turn then sent me to Saudi Arabia. After we came back I re-upped for another hitch and went to Washington D.C. to be stationed at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. Along the way I had some experiences and met a lot of people, most of whom I've forgotten their names. That's what pictures are for I guess.





I learned a great deal about myself and started my baby steps of getting over my lifelong insecurities which seems to have rapidly accelerated in the last year. Still, there were some hard times mixed in there as well but if I'm being honest even though they sucked they've helped to make me who I am today. When I left the military I never tried to get any benefits nor draw upon what I had done to get anything extra for myself. As a matter of fact it wasn't until this last year before I even went to a local restaurant to get a reduced meal on veteran's day even though by all rights I deserve it. Once in seventeen years. Part of the problem with me was that I always lessened what I had done and been through.

Sure I had served over six months in the Gulf War but not in combat. I wasn't on the front lines but in the rear-division. The only Iraqi's I saw were two prisoners of war at a hospital where I was getting an xray for injuring my ankle in a basketball game. This was after the war was over. I never had to shoot anybody military or civilian, never threw a grenade into a building and never ever saw a scud missile. I was forced to march over to a medical tent and take shots of unknown origin which are not mentioned in my medical records. I did undergo a lot of uncertainty and fear about what could happen if one little thing went wrong on our front lines. There were difficult times spent in crowded tents under bad weather and adverse conditions. Then again, nobody forced me to sign my name on the contract. I just did my job and ended up with a chest full of medals for it.


So while I don't have any combat horror stories I do have stories to tell. You really learn about people (and yourself) when you are forced to live with them in cramped quarters and difficult conditions. Perhaps it's now time to start putting those lessons to good use. As I have stated even though I didn't see combat, even though I wasn't supposed to have my weapon loaded in guard duty (but I did) and even though I didn't shoot to kill (or at all) I can proudly say that I am a veteran. I served my country to the best of my ability and I suffered for some of it.  I just don't see the point going around trying to let everyone know what I've been through and done. After all, I know and I'm the one it matters to the most.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

The Flight Of The Trooper

In November of 1987 I joined the U.S. Army and since I was already in the National Guard and had attended all of my training all I had to do was go back and get a new MOS (Military Occupational Specialty). Basically that means getting trained for a new job. My training took me back to Ft. Jackson, S.C., the scene of so much pain, sweat and a few curse words that we shall call Basic Training. The Christmas and New Years holidays were fast approaching and at this time every year all of the training units were to be shut down and all of the trainees sent home for two weeks. It's a strange procedure called Christmas Exodus.

We weren't allowed to take all of our belongings with us since we would be coming back so we had to decide what we couldn't live without. The problem for me was that I had many cassette tapes to choose from and not a lot of space to put them in. This clearly was a process that required a great deal of thought and careful deliberation. After all, if I left a tape behind that meant I wouldn't have access to it for two whole weeks, almost an eternity in those days. So there I was kneeling in front of my locker going through my box of cassettes trying to make the hard choices.

Some choices were easy, like Moving Pictures by Rush, that went in the yes pile without a thought. Next to that was the maybe pile followed by the no pile. The maybe pile was the largest. As I went through them I came upon Iron Maiden's Piece Of Mind and I immediately put it in the no pile. However as soon as I did this and started to reach for another cassette I hesitated. It occurred to me that it did contain my favorite Maiden song "The Trooper" and you never know, I might be in the mood for something that aggressive during the holidays since I never was much for celebrating and didn't care for Christmas music.

With that thought my mind was quickly changed and I relocated Iron Maiden to the yes pile and continued with my selections. Once finished the cassettes were placed in my carry on bag with my walkman and a book or two, the bag properly zipped up and off I went to catch a cab to the airport dressed in my Class A uniform (it was a requirement not a style choice). From there I waited for my flight to Huntington, W.V. I'm not from Huntington, it's just that it has the closest airport to my hometown of Ironton, Ohio, which itself is not a huge, bustling borough. The ride was a short one and after checking my bag I still had time to kill once I arrived at my departure gate. So on came the headphones and I started jamming to some music and read a magazine.

Right after the announcement was made for first class to board I noticed a skinny, long haired guy walking past me with a very attractive, dark haired woman. The only thought that entered my brain was "Wow, that guy's got a messed up nose just like the drummer from Iron Maiden." Upon closer inspection I saw that he was carrying the kind of case that looked like it contained drum sticks and a practice pad. This called for a re-evaluation so I gave him a good once over and my next thought was "He even looks like the drummer from Iron Maiden."


As the rest of the passengers started boarding I could tell that the ladies working at the gate were excited as they were eagerly chattering to each other in hushed tones. Feeling that it was appropriate, I asked them if that indeed this fellow was the drummer from Iron Maiden, but they wouldn't confirm or deny it. Clearly something was up though. Again I gave him the once over as I walked down the aisle to my seat and as I did so I was totally convinced. It was Nicko McBrain, the drummer from Iron Maiden, here on my flight to Huntington, W.V. of all places. I knew I couldn't let a golden opportunity like this pass me by.

After sitting in my assigned window seat I immediately started digging through my bag frantically trying to find my Piece Of Mind cassette tape. The man sitting next to me in his dress shirt, tie and slacks asked me what was going on. I tried to explain to him that the drummer for the world famous heavy metal band Iron Maiden was at this very moment sitting in first class on our plane and I intended to get his autograph. After all, this is a group that could sell out stadiums in countries like Poland which always seemed like a pretty impressive an accomplishment to me. Although my seat companion clearly had no idea about who or what I was speaking of he was nevertheless impressed by my excitement and quickly loaned me his sharpie and wished me luck.

Slowly I made my way up the aisle (it wasn't a very large plane) into first class where I could see the stewardess talking to the only occupants there, Nicko and his lady friend. The stewardess glanced at me and asked me if she could help me. Looking directly into her eyes I told her "No, but he can" and immediately turned to Nicko thrusting out my tape and the sharpie and asked for his autograph. If he was surprised at the sight of this tall, skinny guy with his hair buzzed off, dressed in a military uniform, who had readily recognized him he didn't let it faze him. Instead he happily complied and asked my name as he started writing. Now at this moment my head almost overflowed with questions that I could ask of him now that I had been gifted with this rare chance meeting. Topics like when were they touring, when would a new album be coming and so forth all burst into my consciousness.

Instead, I only managed to blurt out "You guys rock!" That's it. That's all I could muster in my moment in the sun. So sad. I'm sure that he noticed the change in my demeanor as immediately I started berating myself mentally for sounding so stupid but if he did he didn't show it. He merely thanked me, finished signing my tape and handed it back to me. Realizing that my time was rapidly fading I regained my senses and asked him why he was going to Huntington. It turned out that the lady was his fiance and she was from a town located about midway between Huntington and Charleston, WV and they were on their way to spend the holidays with her parents. Thanking him again I quickly made my way back to my seat in the nether regions of coach class and prepared for takeoff.

The rest of the flight was a blur for me and yes, I did listen to Piece Of Mind during the flight. Once we arrived in Huntington I informed my sister and her husband of the famous musician on my flight and as we walked to claim my baggage Nicko was already walking away with his. I caught his eye and he nodded to me, a move of which I made sure my sister and her husband were aware of. We grabbed my bags and on the way to their car we could see Nicko putting his bags into his rental car with a cluster of teens around him. As we walked on those teens came by us and I overheard one of them saying "I don't know who he is but I know he's famous." I wanted to smack those young punks right then and there for having the audacity to ask someone for an autograph when they didn't even know who he was. The nerve.

There's my story of how I met a famous rock star and said something totally and completely lame to him. Some may say that my change of heart about bringing the only Iron Maiden cassette tape that I owned was merely a coincidence and nothing more but I think not. It was instead some strange twist of fate not meant to be life altering, perhaps only to be an amusing tale (hopefully) for me to bore people with later in life. That's where all of you come in. As for the only other question that can be asked about this momentous occasion, do I still have the tape? You better believe it. I wouldn't trade it for anything.




Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

A Very Military Halloween

After leaving college I ended up joining the Army for almost eight years and seeing the world, at least a good part of it. I can only remember two times in that period dressing up in a costume for Halloween and one of them doesn't really count. Both were while I was stationed at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. The one that didn't count was at work, we were allowed to dress in costume and a friend and I went as movers which was our part time job. All we did was put on the company shirt and wear our jeans so really we cheated, but hey, still counts.

The other time was completely unplanned. My friend Adam and the girl that he wanted to be his girlfriend and I were hanging out. It's been over fifteen years and sadly I no longer remember her name so for the sake of the story we'll call her Lisa. Our other friends had gone out of town and we were hanging out at Lisa's apartment but were bored. They came upon the idea of going down to Georgetown and hitting a few bars but wanted to do it in costume. Personally I would have been just as happy going home and watching a movie but I gave in to them and their adventurous plans. It had to be more fun than sitting at home by myself, right? Adam was able to put together a sort of swashbuckler/pirate costume with a red shirt, black pants and a sash. It worked. Lisa already had a costume that she had worn before and it was basically a warrior but the best way to describe it is as a female Conan The Barbarian.

That left me and I had nothing, including the desire to dress up. I had long ago outgrown the police officer costume from my college days so we were left grasping at straws as to what I could be. Just when I thought I wouldn't have to dress in one Adam had a brilliant idea. We drove into the post and since Adam worked as an operating room tech he snuck in and grabbed a pair of scrubs for me. When we got back to her apartment Lisa broke out the red paint and we covered the front of the scrubs in it. My costume was now set, I was to be a not very good doctor.

We made the drive to Georgetown and found a less expensive parking place and started our pub crawl.If you've never been there before let me tell you it was a sight to behold. Almost every adult was in a costume and most of them were quite bizarre. The one that stands out for me to this day was the guy dressed in an adult diaper with a bonnet and a giant baby bottle and nothing more. I don't know how he could stand it in the cold weather but I guess he was well lubricated by the end of the night. The rest of our night consisted of me being the third wheel as Adam and Lisa groped, kissed and flirted with each other. As I said before Adam wanted her to be his girlfriend but while Lisa was fine with occasionally being intimate with him, she also didn't want to be constricted by a relationship. This drove Adam crazy.

He should have realized that it wasn't meant to be and moved on but the heart wants what it wants, no matter how wrong it is for you. Needless to say their situation didn't hold up well and Adam finally understood that it wasn't very healthy for him so he moved on. I left the Army on terminal leave about six months later and only got to see him once more. That was when I came back after I was officially out, to get my final check from the Army. Adam was on a different path then and like most people in the military, once you move on you rarely ever see them again. After this I only recall dressing up for Halloween once more but I don't know if I'll tell that story yet. Now I get to take my son out trick or treating and let him experience it all for himself. I just hope that he doesn't lose the joy of it for a long time.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.