A high Flying Beirut Vet!

Flying Back in Time, In His Own Warplane
Ex-Test Pilot, Bold and Quirky, Pursues a Costly Love


Art Nalls with his Sea Harrier FA.2. After an emergency landing, he had it towed on St. Mary's County roads, riding in the cockpit dressed as Santa.

A crewman at St. Mary's County Regional Airport directs Art Nalls to the taxiway in his Aero Vodochody L-39 Albatros. The former Marine test pilot, who made a fortune in real estate after retiring from the military, owns three jets.

Nalls with his Albatros. As for his Harrier, which he purchased two years ago, it suffered problems on his second flight. He hopes to repair it soon.




St. Mary's County Regional Airport is home to a fleet of single-engine Cessnas, many of them owned by amateur pilots and parked in tidy rows just off the runway. But in a hangar at the edge of the grounds sits a Harrier, a hulking jet that takes off and lands vertically, cruises at speeds in excess of 600 mph and is similar to the Marines' primary attack aircraft.

That is Art Nalls's plane.

Nalls, a 53-year-old former Marine test pilot who made a fortune in real estate, has turned flying into an extraordinarily expensive hobby. He believes that his newest acquisition -- the Harry, as he calls it -- is the world's only privately owned, flyable Harrier. Although Nalls wouldn't say how much he paid for the plane, he said fuel alone costs about $75 for every minute in the air.

But in jets, Nalls says he has found a fountain of youth.

"When I am up there, it's just like I'm 25 again," he said.

He and his planes are regular topics of conversation at the small airport in Southern Maryland, a stomping ground for retired military pilots, some of whom trained at the nearby Patuxent River Naval Air Station, one of only two military test pilot schools in the country.

On a recent morning, in a lounge facing the runway, pilots swapped stories about Nalls's latest adventure: Problems with the Harry's hydraulic system forced an emergency landing at the military base in November, on its second flight. Since he couldn't fly it back, Nalls had the jet hooked to a pickup truck and towed nearly eight miles to the airport, escorted by a half-dozen police cars. He sat in the cockpit, dressed as Santa Claus.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Nalls bellowed, waving at truckers and other motorists as the jet limped along Route 235, narrowly missing traffic lights and straddling a median as it turned onto Airport Road.

Such antics explain why Nalls has earned a reputation as a cowboy, a millionaire fond of indulging idiosyncratic interests. In the 1970s, he held a Guinness record for building and riding the world's smallest rideable bicycle, which was less than five inches tall.

Nalls, who was born and raised in Fairfax County, learned to fly as a midshipman at the Naval Academy. On his second flight, he was flipping loops and executing rolls. In 1985, he was the only Marine to attend the test pilot school at Edwards Air Force Base.

After graduating, Nalls began to test the Harrier II and another jet. One test required him to shut down the engine in flight, falling like a rock as the engine cooled, and then restart it. His total flight time in planes with their engines off is more than six hours.

Nalls spent most of his career in Harriers, including an AV-8A that he launched off ship decks more than 400 times. He traveled widely and was in Beirut for a stint that ended just before the Marine barracks there was bombed in 1983.
Flying Back in Time, In His Own Warplane



A crewman at St. Mary's County Regional Airport directs Art Nalls to the taxiway in his Aero Vodochody L-39 Albatros. The former Marine test pilot, who made a fortune in real estate after retiring from the military, owns three jets.
Nalls with his Albatros. As for his Harrier, which he purchased two years ago, it suffered problems on his second flight. He hopes to repair it soon. (
Then, in 1990, Nalls took a beer bottle to the face when he intervened in a Marine bar fight; his nose was broken and his hearing was affected. Grounded for medical reasons, Nalls was reassigned to a desk job investigating Saddam Hussein's use of chemical weapons. He soon retired from the military.

He turned to real estate and development, buying and renting apartments, houses and commercial buildings in Northern Virginia and the District, where he lives with his wife, Pat. Nalls, whose holdings have included more than 250 units and buildings, did well in real estate, but he missed flying.

So, in 2001, Nalls began to buy jets.

First there was the Russian Yak-3, a jet he calls Red Heat. Then came a Czech Aero Vodochody L-39 Albatros, an "absolute rocket ship" that he refers to as the Black Jet.

But what Nalls really wanted was a Harrier. Getting one from the Marines was out of the question because the Corps' retired Harriers are dismantled. Two years ago, Nalls found a British dealer selling a Sea Harrier FA.2 that had been used by the Royal Navy.

Nalls flew to England. The plane's engine wasn't working and its wiring was a tangled mess, but he bought it. Although he wouldn't say what he paid, a similar plane in working condition was once valued at more than $20 million.

At the St. Mary's airport, a crew of mostly volunteer mechanics and plane enthusiasts brought the Harrier back to life, cobbling together parts from eBay and elsewhere. Nalls prepared for the maiden flight in simulators -- after all, it had been 16 years since he had made a vertical landing.

Questions remained, however, even on the eve of the flight. "We didn't even know if it would hover," Nalls said. "You don't know until you get up there."

On Nov. 10, he successfully flew the Harry, lifting off and then landing from a perfect hover at the St. Mary's airport.

The next day brought the emergency landing at the naval base. About 12 minutes into the flight, a hydraulic warning light clicked on, and the Harrier's landing gear would not lock into place. Nalls asked for permission to land at the base, threw the plane into a hover and slowly lowered it to the ground, where a crash crew waited.

The plane fell the final three feet, landing with a smack. Nalls said officials at the base weren't thrilled with the spur-of-the-moment visitor or the large, slightly damaged British jet.

It was the second civilian emergency landing of the year at the base, said John Romer, a base spokesman.

Nalls hopes to fix the problem in the next two months and have the Harry back in the sky soon. Until then, he is left to fly his other two jets.

So it was that on a recent Saturday he pulled on thick boots and zipped up an olive flight suit decorated with badges he earned as a test pilot and with his call name, Kaos. He jumped into the cockpit of the Czech plane and strapped himself into a parachute-packed ejection seat.

The glass dome came down, sealing him inside but not tightly enough to lock out the smell of burning jet fuel. Nalls adjusted his headset.

"Ready to rock and roll?" he asked. Then came the speed.

The runway ran out, and the jet was hoisted into the air, swept up in the wind and blown away like a dandelion. It drifted higher and higher, then tilted to one side, opening up the view below.

Nalls pointed out landmarks below: the Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Power Plant, the Gov. Thomas Johnson Bridge, the approaching blue of the Chesapeake Bay. He rolled to the other side and felt the push of 2 Gs. The only bumps came when he jiggled the controls, gently rocking the jet from side to side.

He sat perfectly still as the world rushed around him in a swirl.

"I love it out here," he murmured into his headset. "I love this plane."

CHRISTMAS IN BEIRUT

CHRISTMAS IN BEIRUT
Journal Entries from the Battlefield
BY Brian G. Lukas
Editor’s note: The name Beirut became a one-word symbol for the war torn Middle East of the late 1970s. Civil war had erupted in Lebanon in 1975, the result of clashes between Christian and Muslim groups, including members of the Druse religious sect and the Palestine Liberation Organization, and had escalated over several years. In 1982, Israeli troops invaded Lebanon; the two countries had already fought south of Beirut. As well, Syria had occupied the country since 1976. In 1983, the United Nations dispatched a multinational peace-keeping force, including U.S. Marines, to Beirut. The Marines left Beirut within a year because of terrorist attacks; on Oct. 23,1983, a truck loaded with explosives crashed into the 24th Marine Amphibious Unit Headquarters compound, killing 241 Marines.
“The Marines in Beirut seem to have gotten lost in the history books . . . they had a difficult mission,” says TV photographer Brian Lukas. He, along with news anchorwoman Angela Hill and editorialist Phil Johnson, all of WWL-TV/Channel 4, traveled to Beirut in late 1983 to cover Louisiana Marines stationed there at Christmastime. Lukas kept journal entries of his tense times there, excerpted here.
Christmas 1983 was just a few weeks away. I would travel to Beirut with Angela Hill and Phil Johnson to film and edit stories on local Marines from the New Orleans area. It was a time before portable satellite uplinks and the Internet, so we carried videotaped messages from the Marines’ families back in the United States. Our ambitious itinerary also included production of a documentary about this war-torn area. But as fighting between the various factions escalated, that idea was abandoned. Armed militias set up roadblocks in various sections of Beirut. The Islamic Jihad decided to add another element to its arsenal of terror and brutality: kidnapping Westerners.
•If there is hell on earth, it is here in Beirut. At the same time that I arrived in Beirut, the French Embassy was hit by a car bomb, with 20 people killed. Later that night, a French military base was blasted by a bomb-laden truck. Ten French soldiers were killed, and 23 were hurt. The explosion lit up the whole area. Terror – it is sheer terror. I can see it on the faces of the residents who walk cautiously on the streets. Here in Beirut, teenagers carry assault rifles, mainly M-16s. On the streets, women cradle their children tightly in their arms, begging any Westerners for help. The city smells like death. There is a stench of rotting corpses and smoldering trash strewn about from buildings destroyed by the fighting in the streets. To realize the inhumanity of war, you have to look deep in the faces of the civilian population. Then, if you dare, look deep into their eyes. There you will find the horror of war absorbed deep within the soul. I look into many eyes here in Beirut.
•In the eyes of the young Marines, I can see the uneasy and uncomfortable situation they are in. The U.S. Marines’ position at the Beirut International Airport keeps them under daily sniper and artillery attack. I remember when I was in Washington, D.C., for a White House press function when many of these same Marines from the 22nd Marine Amphibious Unit invaded Grenada, a tiny island in the Caribbean. Now I am here in hell with them. The Marines, politically, are not invaders but are so-called “welcome guests,” strategically placed in Lebanon on a peace-keeping mission with the French and Italians as part of a multinational force. Our Marine contact is Capt. Dennis Brooks, the Marine public-information officer on the base, always “spring-loaded to say yes.” He remarked that the various militias near the Marine positions use their tanks like small arms fire: They quickly maneuver the tanks in firing position, release a shell and maneuver back quickly, then repeat the operation. Maximum destruction, I thought to myself. Total destruction was evident when we passed the Sabra and Chatila refugee camps – hundreds, perhaps thousands of Palestinians were killed here: men, women, and children. Our driver remarked, solemnly, that they were executed. The refugee camps are leveled, nothing remains, and where the victims of this civil war sought relief from the terror of war, only the bare reddish-brown earth remains visible from the nearby dusty road. Their graves are not even marked. It is as if they were never born.
•At night there is no time to dream; the evenings are fitful with the sounds of rifle fire. My bed is level with the window. Crazy, I thought, there are snipers on the roofs – one shot through the window and that’s it. I tried to sleep on the floor, but there is no sleep at night. The sounds of sniper fire and the thud of muffled mortar and artillery rounds are trying to find any “peace-keeper’s” position near the Avenue de Paris, the long, winding road facing the Mediterranean Sea.
•At one time Beirut played the Paris of the Middle East; now it plays a sorrowful tune of despair. My hotel in Beirut is owned by the Nassai family, Palestinian owners of the Commodore Hotel. The Commodore Hotel is on the Muslim side of Beirut. On the Christian side, the owner of the Alexandre failed to pay protection money to the thugs and every conceivable terrorist seeking consideration for the hotel’s existence. As a result, somebody exploded a huge car bomb in its parking lot, destroying the hotel. I couldn’t help but notice the line of cars ringing the Commodore Hotel here in Muslim West Beirut. Sometimes the cars were two or three deep. I quickly learned that these vehicles were buffers to prevent any car-bomb attacks on the Commodore. The ring of vehicles and payoffs couldn’t stop the instruments of distant destruction. My hotel room in the Commodore is on the fourth floor, room 405. I could not enter the room without noticing the shift in the door and several large cracks running down the length of the wall. A little later that day, I learned that room 405, my room, had been hit by a rocket-propelled grenade just two weeks earlier.
•There is no sanctuary in this city. It’s a sad place and a sad time. Beirut is a city defined by fear, a city bisected by the green line – Christians in the East, Muslims in the West. This is a noisy, depressing, dangerous and disconcerting place to work. I tried not to sleep last night. It’s been several nights since I’ve had any sleep. The last thing I wanted was to be asleep when a car bomb went off and then to be buried under the rubble of concrete and steel from the top five floors. I often fall asleep at the dinner table. Veteran journalists from Europe and the U.S. networks in the hotel remark that this is one of the scariest wars they’ve covered. There is no “commuting” to this war; death and destruction are all around us.
Blackened pockmarks of war are carved into the façade of every building. The city is gravely wounded. And now a new threat is employed by the terrorists: They are kidnapping journalists and teachers at the American University in Beirut. A note was posted on the front bulletin board as we left the hotel. It was a warning from the Islamic Jihad. In very simple words, the note said that all Westerners must leave Beirut or “we will make the ground under your feet move.” It was a direct threat to destroy the hotel where the Western press reported the war. This is the same group that claimed responsibility for bombing the U.S. Marine base here in Beirut, and the U.S. embassies in Beirut and Kuwait.
•The war is escalating now. (A few months later, the Commodore Hotel would be completely destroyed by shelling and car bombs.) The American Embassy was heavily damaged by another car-bomb attack. Forty people were injured, and eight were killed in the suicide attack. The front of the embassy building, facing the seashore, is covered in what appears to be a seven-story green shroud. It hides the embassy’s exposed interior from probing eyes or people that pass through the zigzagged row of 55-gallon metal drums filled with dirt. The metal drums are defenses against another suicide attack. Marines are positioned throughout the building. Another contingent of Marines is stationed just across the street from the embassy. An American flag blew quietly in the wind next to a Marine guard watching the pedestrian movement in front of the embassy. The image of the American flag and the Marine standing with the sun setting on the Mediterranean Sea gave the drab gray seashore kind of a splendid appearance. In a melancholy way I felt a strong connection with home. The obvious presence of the American flag waving in the warm breeze made me feel very thankful that I live in and would return to the United States shortly. And if there is ever an image of the Marines in Beirut that will be forever stamped on my mind, it is that one single Marine and the American flag rippling in the wind next to him.
•On the corniche, in front of the American Embassy, the Marines are routinely targeted by snipers. It becomes very nerve-racking that at any time death may come by a sniper. As I filmed the area I noticed a small bunker with several Marines standing guard. One of them was Cpl. Brad Pellegrin from Slidell. It is the Christmas season, and he is making the best of a very bad situation by lining his bunker with makeshift ornaments. I forgot that we were nearing Christmas.
We were carrying messages from Cpl. Pellegrin’s family to give to him. It was a videotaped message to him from his wife, mother and child. As we showed the message to him I noticed an interesting effect on the other Marines . . . they gathered closer together to hear the family’s greeting to Brad. Closer the Marines came when Brad’s son said, “Daddy, I love you and miss you.” We played the videotape again and again. That’s when I realized that Brad’s family was now family to all the Marines that gathered to watch his videotape in front of the destroyed American Embassy. His family was their family; his son was their son or daughter. The Marines had a Christmas family now . . . and it was amazing to witness a little bit of loneliness disappear as they looked on. Christmas is family . . . even in Beirut.
•The makeshift Christmas ornaments lining the bunkers in front of the destroyed U.S. embassy were a welcome relief. It was a simple reminder of the hope that peace existed. Off in the distance, on the Mediterranean Sea, the sunset cast a shadow on the battleship New Jersey. The broad, flickering light from her was the firepower from her massive guns unleashed on the Druse militias, who rocketed the Marine base at the International Airport on Beirut’s southern edge. We would find out that a Marine was severely wounded; later he died.
•Overnight, hooded Shiite Muslims and their Druse allies drove Lebanese army units from most of their checkpoints on the Muslim West Beirut commercial thoroughfares and residential neighborhoods. I woke up to a very loud mechanical clanking just outside my hotel. The sounds of Lebanese military tanks rolling pass the hotel window quickly eliminated the little rest I hoped to get.
•Reports indicate at least 90 people killed last night and more than 300 wounded in the fighting; in just two days more than 160 people were killed, mostly civilians caught in the cross-fire. It’s a sickness – hatred is a cancer destroying everything here.
•At the Marine base this morning I could see the visible impact of the shelling by the U.S. 6th Fleet on the mountain range surrounding the base. Huge billows of smoke rose as the shells hit their targets. Cpls. Herbert McKnight and Greg Nelson, both from the New Orleans area, said the Marine base was shelled by rockets overnight. Herbert was stationed in a sandbag bunker on the rooftop of the base. This bunker, accessible only by a ladder, is the highest point on the Marine base. It also appears to be a very vulnerable position, an obvious target for a sniper. Cpl. Nelson, from Slidell, manned a .50-caliber machine gun overlooking the Kalda mountain range near the rear of the base. Cpl. Brian Campbell, only 19 years old and from Lafayette, was quickly unloading supplies from a helicopter. The copters didn’t stay long . . . they couldn’t – mortars usually found their targets. Brian, Greg and Herbert, these young Marines, were reminders that wars are fought by the very young, often placed in horrific circumstances and forced to grow up quickly. Several times I asked them to move their helmet up so I could see their eyes while filming. “Son, can you move your helmet up just a little?” I said. I would later say, “Marine, would you push your helmet back just a little?” Eighteen, 19 years old . . . here in hell, when others of their age are probably wrapping Christmas presents and acting goofy back home.
But on the Marine base at the Beirut International Airport, the one focal point no one can pass without some reflection of what happened months earlier is the huge crater. That crater once housed the Marines in a four story building. Every time I moved past it, I thought of the young men like Greg, Brian and Herbert, and then I said a small prayer for the families of the 241 Marines that died here.
•The Marine base alarm is sounding. The Druse militias are firing mortars now. In a few seconds, we must make the decision to stay on the Marine base during the shelling and miss our satellite deadline or leave and walk into the chaos and madness of the streets. We decide to leave. A condition-1 alert has been initiated . . . there are incoming mortar rounds in the distance, and the front gate will be locked shortly. The Marine base is the target.
We had to leave quickly. But as I left the Marine base I noticed a small memorial in front of the former Marine barracks. Despite the imminent danger, I couldn’t help but stop, notice and film the small bouquet of light blue flowers ringed around a Marine-issued camouflage hat. Above the flowers was a small, white sign facing east, toward the city of Beirut. The small sign simply described the Marines’ mission in Beirut: To the “24th MAU, they came in peace.”
It’s a dangerous world out there. •

Murderer visits Beirut

We will never forget and will always hunt you down



Iranian intelligence official visits Lebanon
Monday, 17 December, 2007 @ 6:32 PM


Beirut - A senior Iranian intelligence officer arrived in Lebanon the week of Dec. 9, and Imad Mughniyah , Hezbollah official in charge of foreign operations accompanied the officer to his meetings there, Stratfor sources said Dec. 16.


The two have held continuous talks with Hezbollah foreign operations officers in meetings attended by Hezbollah security chief Wafiq Safa. They later traveled to the town of Nabi Sheit in the northern Biqaa, then met with Syrian intelligence officers led by Brig. Gen. Ali Diab in Hezbollah training grounds in Shara near the border village of Janta.


Imad Mugniyah, a senior member of the Hezbollah militant organization has been living in Tehran . Sometimes described as a "master terrorist", Mugniyah has been implicated in the 1983 bombings of the U.S. Embassy in Beirut , and U.S. Marine and French peacekeeping barracks, which killed over 350, as well as the 1992 bombings of the Israeli embassy in Buenos Aires . He was also linked to numerous kidnappings of Westerners in Beirut through the 1980s, most notably that of Terry Anderson. Some of these individuals were later killed such as U.S. Army Col William Francis Buckley.

Sources: Stratfor , Ya Libnan

Remember the Fallen

Dont know who Roger Ray is, but it seems Mr Regions has got this 100% right, Good Job Marine!.... editor




FROM THE RIGHT »

Not anger, not seeking war - but desire to remember the fallen


In response to Roger Ray's article of last Wednesday, for openers, I question his reference to me as his comrade. Although my enlistment predated that of the Marines who were killed in Beirut in 1983, those men who put their lives on the line and lost them were my comrades. Every Marine who reads this knows what I mean. Roger Ray likely does not. That isn't all that he doesn't get.
His statement that "?he (James Regions) seems to be interpreting his painful memories to indicate that we must do to them what they did to us? until they decide they are not mad at us anymore," is cause for concern. Anyone who believes that this is only about someone deciding they are "not mad anymore" does not understand the mind-set of the Islamic terrorists.



He then makes the statement, "But the more important point for me, the one which I would love for James Regions to realize, is that 24 years after that lone bomber killed 220 Americans, he is still hurting, mourning and angry about it. And he wants us to be angry, too, angry enough to go to war over it." Puhleeze. Do we really need another amateur, pseudo psychoanalyst?

He is, with that remark, being disturbingly disingenuous — perhaps, deliberately — by creating a straw man out of an article that said nothing about being angry or going to war. He then used that misrepresentation to launch into a litany about the "wrongness" of the war in Iraq, including costs in dollars and lives.

My article was in no way about Iraq. It was about memorializing dedicated Marines and being alert. It was written on the anniversary of the massacre of the Marines in the Beirut barracks, just over a month past the anniversary of the 9/11 massacres, and had three purposes.

It was written, primarily, to honor the memory of those heroic Marines who died serving their country. I wanted others to remember their sacrifice, if only for a few moments, on the anniversary of their deaths and sent the News-Leader pictures of the bombing in hope that they would be printed. They were not.

The second purpose was to remind readers that acts of terrorism such as the Beirut bombing and the 9/11 sites are not likely going to stop. Terrorists will not stop when we leave Iraq. They would not have stopped if we had not invaded Iraq. They will not stop until Israel is annihilated and the Great Satan, the United States, is an Islamic nation.

The third reason for the article was to say that we have a hard time comprehending the depth of their dedication, since our devotion seems to be to watching television programs like dancing with stars and reality shows — which was the opening point of the article.

One of the most important things that we can do is to not forget. To forget and let our guard down is an open invitation to terrorists to strike again. Neither the Beirut bombing nor 9/11 is a drama with a solution to be found within two hours, not counting time for commercials.

The terrorists fear displeasing Allah much more than they fear anything or anyone else. They will, gladly, die for their beliefs. We have a hard time understanding their depth of dedication, hatred and fear, but we can remember it.

Pulitzer Prize-winner and Arkansas Democrat-Gazette editorial page editor Paul Greenberg made these observations in last week's tribute to Doris Lessing, 2007 Nobel literature laureate, "?we still have trouble recognizing evil as it gathers, or even when it is upon us. And so our reaction to it keeps veering between astounded panic and familiar laxity."

"The more far-seeing of our leaders have told us that eternal vigilance is the price of liberty, but eternal is a long time. We grow tired. We nod off. Maybe if we ignore the threat, it will go away. We miss our isolation and imagine we can return there, retreat behind our oceans and be safe. It is a temptation, and every time we yield to it, we are shocked awake." Greenberg is absolutely right.

Back to the last week's response to "From the Left," to infer from my article that I want war because of hurt and anger is more than insipid isogesis; starting with a belief and finding purportedly supporting documentation. There is none. Perhaps Roger Ray needs to simply state his positions without misusing another writer's article as a pathetically phony pretext.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
James Regions lives in Springfield. "From the Right" appears every Tuesday. Coming Wednesday: "From the Left."

Thank You Senator McConnell

The U.S. Marines were honored on the Senate floor Tuesday, the 24th anniversary of the terrorist attack on the Marine Barracks in Beirut, Lebanon. U.S. Senate Republican Leader Mitch McConnell said that although terrorists and suicide bombers are still with us today, “thankfully for America, so are the United States Marines.”

“By their courage on the battlefield, and constant risk of danger, today’s Marines honor every one of their forebears who died defending our country,” McConnell said. “We continue to fight terror today with a steady hand, even if it is at times paired with a heavy heart. And we are proud of the brave men and women who fight for their country.”

On October 23, 1983, two truck bombs struck separate buildings in Beirut housing U.S. and French members of the Multinational Force who were stationed in Lebanon during the Lebanese Civil War. The attack killed 241 American Marines, sailors and soldiers. Several hours later, an organization called Islamic Jihad claimed responsibility for the attack.

“I rise today in honor of the 241 U.S. Marines, sailors and soldiers who were killed in a despicable suicide bombing attack on the U.S. Marine barracks in Beirut, Lebanon. That attack occurred 24 years ago today on October 23, 1983.

President Ronald Reagan had dispatched U.S. forces in 1982 to maintain the peace in Lebanon. On the morning of October 23, one Lebanese terrorist drove a truck packed with explosives through three guard posts and a barbed-wire fence, straight into the lobby of the U.S. Marine Corps’ headquarters.

The bomb exploded with the force of 18,000 pounds of dynamite. It transformed the four-story cinderblock building into rubble.

It was so powerful, the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia later described it as ‘the largest non-nuclear explosion that had ever been detonated on the face of the Earth.’

Some of the men and women lost that day were murdered in their sleep. Others, who saw the truck come crashing in, may have seen the face of the enemy as their last sight on Earth.

Either way, 241 Americans wearing their country’s uniform were killed in a brutal attack that shocked America and the world.

Terrorists and their favorite tactic, the suicide attack, are still with us today.

Thankfully for America, so are the United States Marines.

Founded in 1775, the U.S. Marine Corps has been ‘at the tip of the spear’ in every one of this nation’s wars. And they will never be stopped by a terrorist’s suicide attack.

This November, the country will celebrate the Corps’ 232nd birthday, and thank them for defending our freedoms.

By taking the fight to the terrorists, wherever they hide, the Marines have put terrorists on the defensive, making it less likely they will hit us again here at home.

By their courage on the battlefield, and constant risk of danger, today’s Marines honor every one of their forebears who died defending our country.

Mr. President, America still remembers her brave men and women lost in the Marine barracks bombing of 1983. We honor them and their families for their sacrifice.

We continue to fight terror today with a steady hand, even if it is at times paired with a heavy heart. And we are proud of the brave men and women who fight for their country against the would-be terrorists of today and tomorrow.”

Welcome Home Root Vet!

Vet helps fight personal battles
Marine witness to devastating attack now helping fellow wounded warriors

By DENNIS YUSKO, Staff writer
Click byline for more stories by writer.
First published: Tuesday, October 23, 2007

COLONIE -- Darrel Franklin saw the world change 24 years ago today in Beirut. It ended up changing his own world, too.


The Marine from Arbor Hill was standing guard in Lebanon at 6:22 a.m. Oct. 23, 1983, when a suicide bomber detonated a truckload of explosives at the Marines' barracks, killing 241 U.S. military members.

The lance corporal not only survived the era's first major terrorist attack, but also the personal difficulties that followed.

He got a job as a mail carrier, but battled post-traumatic stress disorder and alcoholism for years. Now Franklin, 44, has a second career helping a new generation of wounded warriors at Stratton Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Albany.

Working in the center's drug and alcohol rehabilitation program has made Franklin feel better about the memories of the thunderous blast in Beirut and the friends he lost, he says.

"I found out that by taking my experiences, pains and heartaches and sharing them with other people, I can be a tool for them," he said in his Latham home, which he shares with his wife, Angela, and two daughters.

Franklin's personality mixes black and military pride, and he wants to spend the rest of his life helping young African-Americans and combat veterans. But for Franklin, it's been a long road to rebirth.

He grew up on Colonie Street in Albany with his mother and sister, and always wanted to be a Marine. He signed up at age 17 and left for boot camp four days after graduating from Albany High School.

"School wasn't my thing," Franklin said.

After being assigned to bases in California and Okinawa, Japan, for a year, Franklin volunteered for a multinational peacekeeping mission in Beirut in 1983. The U.S. had entered Lebanon after Israel invaded the country and a civil war broke out.

Franklin and others made daily patrols around the Beirut region. He endured sniper fire and other attacks from what he believes were Hezbollah fighters. Members of Hezbollah were blamed for the bombing that blew the four-story cinder-block building into rubble and crushed many inside.

Franklin was standing about 400 yards away from the blast, which ultimately caused President Ronald Reagan to withdraw U.S. troops from Lebanon.

"They shook the ground beneath our feet," Franklin said. He remembers feeling anger, emptiness and a desire for revenge when he saw coffins carrying dead Marines being loaded onto a plane.

Franklin returned to the United States in December 1983. He re-enlisted and got married the next year.

But something was brewing within him. Franklin had trouble sleeping, often waking in a heavy sweat. At a military parade, he hit the ground in a panic at the sound of a cannon shot.

After he got back, he took a job with the U.S. Postal Service. He soon started drinking to numb his anxious feelings.

In 1990, at the urging of both his wife and mother, Franklin got help from the Albany Veterans Center on Central Avenue. He went to individual and group counseling for stress and anxiety.

1Franklin was inspired to go to college after he attended the Million Man March in Washington, D.C., in 1995. Over the next decade, he earned bachelor's and master's degrees from Sage Colleges, the latter in community psychology and counseling. The VA hired Franklin two months ago.

"I can always trust that he's working with the best interest of the veteran at heart," said Kirsten Danfourth, acting program manager. "His compassion and the work he does definitely stems from his own experience as a veteran."

Franklin says he wants to help veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts who are suffering from similar problems. He says he still lives a "guarded" life.

"I want to let the guys and girls know that you can live with it and be productive," Franklin said. "You face a lot of stuff. It isn't easy. But you can become aware of trigger signs and make changes."

Yusko can be reached at 581-8438 or by e-mail at dyusko@timesunion.com.

9/11 did not start the Terriorism train

23 October 2007

Think back to the many heroes we lost that day. Think of the enemies that ran us out of Lebannon, and remember that these are the same enemy we fight today. Hizballah, Syria, the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. The list goes on. These are the same enemies trying to defeat us in Iraq today.

Our enemy has been at war with us now for more than 24 years. Only since 9-11 have we recognized this fact and begun to fight back.

Right Wing Nut House » BEIRUT BARRACKS BOMBING ANNIVERSARY

The driver of the yellow Mercedes Benz truck in Beirut that awful day 24 years ago knew precisely where to go. According to intelligence reports, two members of what was then the underground terrorist organization known as Hizbullah had mapped the layout of the Marine barracks so that the suicide bomber could carry out his mission to maximum effect. He knew the Marines pulling sentry duty had pocketed their ammo clips thanks to some ridiculous rules of engagement. And he was aware that there were no barriers protecting the structure so that his truck laden with 12,000 pounds of explosives would only have to crash through ordinary wood and plaster in order to be positioned perfectly so that detonation would have catastrophic effects on the building.

The truck had apparently been prepared with the help of Syrians and Iranians in the Bekaa Valley in Lebanon where several Revolutionary Guard units had been stationed under Syrian protection. An NSA intercept revealed at a trial that convicted the Islamic Republic of Iran of being behind the attack, stated that a message sent from Iranian intelligence headquarters in Tehran toAli-Akbar Mohtashemi, the Iranian ambassador in Damascus and directed the Iranian ambassador to get in touch with Islamic Amal which has since been identified as the military arm of Hizbullah at the time, and instruct him to “take spectacular action” against the Marines.

Read the whole horrible story, because remembering what happened is half of preparing for what is next. We can’t go through life pretending that there isn’t a huge fanatical movement in the world praying for our destruction. Sticking your head in the sand is not what these heroes deserve on the anniversary of their murders.

And now we face the same decision that Reagan faced then. Do we run, or do we stand and fight? Do we allow the forces of militant jihadism to force us to leave with our tail between our legs, and wait for the next bombing or hijacking? Or do we keep kicking their asses wherever we find them?

Reagan, and the rest of this nation, made the mistake of thinking this war wouldn’t follow us home if we just got the hell out. Today we know from experience that this simply isn’t the case. They always come back home. Victory is the only option. Harden the fuck up and quit your bitching..
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One Response to “Remembering: The Beirut Barracks Bombing Anniversary”
1. Solo Says:
October 24th, 2007 at 6:23 am

It would be good if people would look back and remember. Too many I’ve talked to think that Islamic terrorism started on 9/11/01.

Grenada 24 years later

Grenada (Heard From Today!)
By Lt Col P

23 Oct 1983, the same day as the Beirut bombing, a scratch joint task force assaults and takes the island of Grenada, overthrowing its tinpot Marxist government and ejecting Cuban soldiers and workers.

The Navy history website has a nifty little account of the campaign.

Meanwhile, Fox and Echo companies [of 2nd Battalion, 8th Marines] merged north of St. George's and secured a flat, stadium-like area called the Queen's Racecourse, which the Marines dubbed "LZ Racetrack" (LZ standing for landing zone). The battalion landing team commander set up headquarters there.

"We did a lot of humping today," said Marine Captain Mike Dick, Fox Company commander, after the first day of the operation. He looked over his men and added in a low tone, "It's quite a bit different from Camp Lejeune. We're doing this for real and for keeps."

Make that Capt Mike Dick, VMI '77, now Colonel, USMC, retired.

24th anniversary of Beirut bombing marked

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

24th anniversary of Beirut bombing marked

By Trista Talton - Staff writerPosted : Tuesday Oct 23, 2007 17:31:24 EDT

JACKSONVILLE, N.C. — They gently brushed their fingertips across the stone where the names of the men who died on a peacekeeping mission in Lebanon in 1983 are engraved.
On Tuesday, families and friends gathered around the Beirut Memorial here once again to commemorate the 24th anniversary of the day terrorists drove a bomb-laden truck into the headquarters building for the Camp Lejeune, N.C.-based 1st Battalion, 8th Marines, killing 220 Marines, 18 sailors and three soldiers.
The crowd — filled with an assortment of Marines, sailors, airmen, soldiers, mothers, fathers, wives, children and survivors of the blast — looked toward the wall as speakers talked about that fateful day.
Maj. Gen. Robert Dickerson, commander of Marine Corps Installations-East and the ceremony’s guest speaker, told the story of one survivor, Lance Cpl. Jeffrey Nashton, who was fighting for his life on a hospital bed in Germany when he and other survivors were visited by then-Commandant Gen. P.X. Kelley.
Nashton could not see or speak and could barely hear. When Kelley knelt by his bedside, Nashton reached out a hand and brushed his fingers over the general’s star-collared shirt.
Nashton signaled he wanted to write something. He was handed a pen and paper and scribbled two words — “Semper Fi” — before handing the paper to Kelley, Dickerson said.
“Jeffrey feels guilty, as many of you do today, that he survived,” Dickerson said. “Don’t feel guilty. It’s your memory. It’s their legacy you’re maintaining.”
Dickerson rattled off a long list of terrorist attacks dating back to November 1979, when the U.S. Embassy in Iran was taken over by militants. He spoke of various embassy attacks throughout the years, the bombing of the Cole and the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.
“The lessons learned in Beirut are relevant today,” Dickerson said. “These cowards are still out there. These cowards — these terrorists — are global. And they fear democracy.”
Photo slideshow:
Remembering Beirut
Source

OHIO CEREMONY

Ceremony for slain troops
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The annual ceremony honors the loss of three local men in a 1983
terrorist attack.

By ANGIE SCHMITT

VINDICATOR STAFF WRITER

STRUTHERS — A memorial that honors those killed in the Beirut bombing of 1983 stands about 4 feet high on the bank of Lake Hamilton here.

Centered around a circular flagstone, the memorial holds the names of the 14 Ohioans who lost their lives in the bombing that killed 241 Marines, sailors and soldiers deployed on a peacekeeping mission in Lebanon that year.

"It just says 'Peace Keepers Memorial,'" said Richard Mitchells, commandant of the Tri-state Marine Detachment of the Marine Corps League, "because that's what they were — peacekeepers."

Family members of the three area men killed that day will return to this site Sunday, as they do every year near the anniversary of that date, Oct. 23, 1983.

A ceremony in honor of all those killed in the attack will begin at 1 p.m. with a call to attention and the posting of the Marine colors, said Mitchells, a Greenford resident who organized the event. Then, military officials will perform a ceremonial changing of the flags; one American, one POW, one Marine and one Navy.

A traditional memorial service will be held with a 21-gun salute. After that, New Castle resident Shirley Kirkwood will be among the family members invited to place a wreath on the stone in honor their lost loved ones.

Kirkwood's son, Shenango High School graduate James McDonough, was killed when a truck loaded with 2,000 pounds of dynamite crashed through the gates of the multinational force barracks, where hundreds of troops, mostly Marines, were sleeping.



After all these years, fall is still a painful time of year for Kirkwood, a 69-year-old mother of six. Exactly one month before the bombing McDonough, her oldest child, had celebrated his 21st birthday.

"It's just like it was yesterday," said Kirkwood. "When you lose a son like that, you can't get over it."

Struthers resident Edward Johnston was instrum ental in bringing the memorial to Struthers in 1993. His son, Edward Anthony Johnston, also of Struthers, lost his life in the attack. He was 22. The third local victim was Niles resident Stanley Sliwinski.

Meeting at this site, year after year, the three families have become friends, Johnston said. And all three are expected Sunday, including Sliwinski's daughter and widow.

Though the experience isn't exactly pleasant for Johnston, he said he still appreciates the solemn annual gathering.

"I'm glad to see that people do attend," he said. "It makes you feel good."

aschmitt@vindy.com