11/20/08 

8:30 PM.  The opening of Wisconsin's gun deer season is Saturday.  Imagine 600,000+ blaze orange-clad hunters heading into the woods in search of the elusive thirty point buck.

I'm already all tingly. Not just about the hunting prospects but also about the camaraderie and deer camp shenanigans that surround this event.  It's really quite social what with friends and family - the whole nine yards.

Here's the deal.  I'm already at our camp.  I snuck out of my day job this afternoon while nobody was looking.  The balance of the crew arrives tomorrow.  That includes Wench, Lawyer, Sid, Mennonite, Android and Braumeister - the usual suspects.

I'll be posting daily updates to this year's deer camp.  Pictures too.  Maybe some recipes of our starvation diet.

So check in from time-to-time and enjoy the fun and enjoy the hunt.  Vicariously as it were. 

By the way, since I started publishing these on-line hunting diaries I learned that our wives (and at least one girl friend) began checking this blog as a way of keeping tabs on their men-folk.  Ladies, you can count on me to make sure that only fair and balanced reporting of the facts ever finds its way on-line.  Nothing but the truth.  No outrageous tales like you might get from a fisherman.  You know me, I don't want any trouble.

On a serious note; for all of you hunters, good luck, shoot straight and be safe.

I'm going to put another log in the wood burner and return to my book.  More tomorrow.

Good night.

Tom

Oops.  Forgot to tell you that it is freak'n cold here.  20 degrees!  I went out earlier and turned the thermostat up on the hot tub.

11/21/08 - Get Ready.  Get set...

Everyone is here.

We're all settled-in and relaxing.

Dinner tonight featured deep fried Wisconsin crappies.

Fish tacos!

Accompanied by frijoles, slaw and really spicy chipotle-mayo sauce and cold beers.

Yum!

11/22/08 Go!

4:30 AM.  Daylight in the swamp boys.  Well, not quite anyway. It is dark - hardly any moon.  It is 8 degrees above zero.  I believe I have found the perfect breakfast for these conditions.

I looked everywhere trying to find the Heinemann's recipe for baked oatmeal.  No luck.

So, here's the bbest surrogatefor deer camp baked oatmeal.

1/3 c of butter.

2 eggs

3/4 c of brown sugar

1 1/2 t baking powder

1 1/2 t of vanilla extract

1/2 t nutmeg

1/2 t cinnamon

1/4 t salt

1 c + 2 T milk

3 c oatmeal (quick or regular)

This serves 6 – so you need to at least double the recipe for your normal deer camp.

In our continuing tradition of surprises Braumeister just left for the hospital - seems he woke-up with what might be a detached retina.

Hoarfrost

9:30 AM  Coffee break. Braumeister is back and out hunting.  Something about floaters and a bad vitreous humor.  He had the entire ER to himself until the cops brought in the guy with multiple stab wounds.  Everyone has seen deer but nothing tagged yet.

5:15 PM.  For the first time ever our deer camp didn't tag a deer on opening day.  I am bummed yet optimistic.  Our visions of venison bourguignon have vaporized.  We have been reduced to eating chicken wings and bean soup tonight.  For now I am enjoying a Ketel One on the rocks (with twist) and King Oscar sardines.   

Bean soup:  Start with three smoked pork hocks from the local butcher shop.  Simmer in a pot to make the stock.  Remove.  Add two packages of navy beans, one sweet onion (chopped fine) and 1t of chopped garlic to the stock.  De-bone the hocks removing skin, fat and gristle.  Return meat to the pot.  Cook all day - low and slow.  Add salt to taste.  Put in the garage to set.  The next day remove the congealed fat on the top.  Reheat and serve with Caesar croûtons. Yum.   

9:30 PM.  Good night.

11/23/08

5 AM.  It is a balmy 24 degrees outside as the camp stirs to life.

11 AM  Post-breakfast report = nothing tagged.  Beer rhymes with deer and since I haven't any deer pictures to share - here is a beer picture.

Braumeister (incidentally a national home brewing champion) makes our deer camp beer.  This year a lager and an imperial stout

7:00 PM.  Hunted this afternoon with everyone's lack of success weighing heavy on our minds.  At least mine anyway.  The weather was positively fine.  36 degrees with a 10 MPH breeze out of the southwest - subsiding by 2 PM.

I covered a 15 acre wildlife opening adjacent to a cedar swamp and an impenetrable alder thicket.  I have my trusty Browning A-Bolt - 7mm magnum.  Big optics too.

At 3 PM a younger buck wanders out of the thicket and walks slowly in my direction - head-on.  At about 125 yards I put the cross hairs on his chest and... POW.

Deer down.

The skunk is out of the bag.

Awesome venison tacos tonight with authentic frijoles and garden salsa.  I am in a jolly mood.  Good Night.

11/24/08 

4:30 AM.  30 degrees and snow.

4:30 PM.  We got about 3 inches of the white stuff today and we all thought that the contrast might make hunting a bit easier; harder for those tree-munchers to sneak against the contrast of the snow.  We all came-in for breakfast after 10 AM without seeing  hide nor hair of a whitetail.  Things were quiet with only a couple of distant gun shots heard.  This has been some slow hunting.  Kind of like watching paint dry.  I did see several flocks of these little fellas.  They've arrived from further reaches to the north to winter here.  Wisconsin winters for them must be like Florida winters to people.  Anyway, they're fun to observe searching for seeds because they do it with both of their feet scratching simultaneously.

A word about tree stands and snow.  It scares the crap out of me.  Clunky boots, bulky clothing, rifle, pack, gloves - a wonderful combination for a slip and fall to the ground.  It's a pain to haul your stuff up on the end of a parachute cord but safer.  Same for climbing in and out - three out of four limbs in contact at all times. 

Nice view, eh?

The boys cleaned the place and we butchered, packaged and froze my deer. They've left and I'm puttering about doing laundry.  Ordinarily I'd have gone out and sat for the last couple of hours of daylight; but truthfully I'm pooped. I'm also beginning to feel a bit lonely.  Funny how that sensation materializes so quickly.

After chores tomorrow I'll head back to Tosa to attend to some day job stuff then return with my darling wife and Girlfriend.  Guests too for Thanksgiving.  It should be fun.

Good Night.

11/25/08

3 PM.  Back in good ol' Tosa - albeit temporarily.  I afforded myself the decadent pleasure of sleeping-in until 7 AM.  It was great.  On the drive home today I observed an interesting roadside curiosity.  A survey crew was working in a field along a county highway with transit, a GPS device on the end of a stick and the other usual contraptions.  They were all dressed in their blaze-orange bibs, coats and hats (a good idea during gun deer season).  They all also happened to have their back tags on. 

So here's the $1000 question - did they have guns in the back of their crew cab pick-up in case a deer popped into view? 

11/26/08

7 PM.  Back to the hunt.  It was a quiet afternoon - only one neighbor hunting along with me and it stinks.  Really. The farmer across the road has been spraying liquid manure on a freshly plowed 80 acre field.  This would not be the time to  be hanging laundry out to dry.  Whew!  Anyway, no deer and no shooting and aside from the obviously pungent atmosphere it was an altogether fine afternoon.  No need for scent control.

When you sit outdoors by yourself on a sunny 32 degree winter afternoon you have plenty of  time to think.  I spent most of my afternoon thinking about the Budget and Finance Committee meeting of last night.  Jill and I both attended.  Jill is a member of the Parks and Forestry Board and I am a simple citizen.  We both share a serious interest in the future of Hart Park.  I thought the comments by Alders Ewerdt, Purins, Krol and Maher (Committee Chair) were thoughtful and insightful. Donegan's email too.  Anyway, thanks to  those committee members that voted for the motion to proceed with the demolition and rebuilding of the athletic fields at the park.  Speaking for myself I want this investment in Tosan's quality of  life to move forward.  On to the full Council.

The mayor and I had a nice chat.  A sense of humor the mayor has.  Really.  But I digress.

More hunting tomorrow.  Family visiting too.  The critter that left this sign is on the menu.

Good night.

11/27/08

11 AM.  The house is beginning to fill with all sorts of wonderful smells.  Baked squash to make squash casserole.  In my view what is likely the world's best pumpkin pie.  From the Moosewood Cookbook - Mollie Katzen's No-Fault Pumpkin Pie.  I grew Connecticut field pumpkins in the garden this year.  I like to take what I call the eater size gourds - 9 to 10 inches in size - slice them in halves, scoop-out the seeds and bake them face down on a cookie sheet until they soften and collapse.  Scoop-out the cooked flesh and puree in a food processor.   Freeze in pie-size amounts.

Most of today's dinner came from the garden - squash, pumpkin, potatoes, corn and green beans.  The centerpiece is wild turkey - about as organic and free-range as it comes.   

Our neighbor's son-in-law just stopped by to ask if they could trail a deer that wandered over the line fence.  Hunting's been slow for them too.  

6:30 PM.  Wow.  The smells of good food cooking!  Family, a fire in the wood burner and dogs under foot.  What fun.  I have much to be thankful for.  There's the obvious stuff like a career that affords me all kinds of flexibility in my schedule.  Good health.  There is the great state I live in that is part of a great country.  But most of all it is the company of friends and the love amongst family that I am thankful and grateful for. 

I'm also thankful for the bounty of nature that seems to come my way. 

Once again this afternoon I recited my silent prayer of thanks. 

There is a doe hanging in the machine shed.

Happy Thanksgiving.

11/28/08

5:30 PM.  I did not hunt today.  Our guests departed late morning, Jill went to town  to pick-up a tractor part and brave the holiday shoppers.  I assumed my alter ego - Tom the Butcher.  That's like Joe the Plumber only I have this fantasy of having a snarky conversation with some lame politician while stropping a very sharp knife really close to his liar nose.  Anyway, I butchered my deer today.  That makes three for the year so far.

I'm really picky when it comes to butchering which is why I couldn't do it for a living.  I'm just too darn slow.  Nonetheless, others like my style because I'm one of the few people who can skin a deer and not get hair all over everything.  There is nothing worse than deer hair in your steaks or chops.  I'm also meticulous about trimming every last vestige of silver skin and fat from my meat.  That's the stuff that imparts a gamey flavor to venison.

The other way to make your venison taste bad is to cook it wrong.  Here's the deal.  Grill or sear it to medium rare.  Do it fast on an exceedingly hot grill or skillet.  This method is suited to steaks and chops and the better cuts of meat.  Otherwise cook it low and slow and very long until if falls apart at the touch of a fork.  Roasts in something like a crock pot are excellent.  Anything in between is guaranteed to be tough and not taste very good at all.

Some of the tougher cuts that come from the shoulders and hocks are really suited to grinding into hamburger.  If you do that be sure to add no less than 10% pork to the grinds so as to give the burger some fat for binding.

Some other tips.  After field dressing your kill get it cooled-down as quickly as possible.  For an early season bow kill I'm often stuffing the body cavity with bagged ice.  Also, do not split the pelvis.  Doing so exposes the hams to the air and possible contamination.  I see deer at the registration station in this condition all the time and it makes me nuts.  There's no good reason to do this so what's the point.  Leave all the hide intact until you're ready to skin the animal.  If you hang your deer hang it from the hind legs.  All the better cuts are in the hind quarters and you want those elevated above the animal's shoulders.

If any of you readers are carnivores be careful not to drool all over your keyboard.  This stuff is better than any fatty, feed lot raised, antibiotic-infused dead cow from the grocery store.

Venison kabobs tonight on the Smokey Joe.

Good night.

11/29/08

5:45 PM.  I completed everything on my list today. Made a trip to the town dump with a couple of barrels of recyclables, post office, grocery store, smoked a batch of pheasants (very popular during the upcoming holidays), scrubbed my cutting board and deer tarp, disposed of the deer carcass and sat for a couple of hours until dark in hopes of adding another deer to the tally.

Did you know that a small town dump is probably the best possible source of local information?  Think about it - a small town.  It is difficult to keep a secret in a small town.  Everyone has to go to the dump.  Aside from a place to dispose of garbage, recyclables and old appliances the dump is also a giant repository of secrets and information - both useful and otherwise.  Jill routinely asks me what I learned whenever I return.  Today all the talk was about how lousy the hunting has been.  Seems everyone was grousing about earn-a-buck rules or grumbling about not seeing deer.  Our total for the year is only three deer - about half of what we usually kill by this time.  But I've seen plenty of deer and have countless pictures of gangs of them from the trail camera.  Plus there's still more hunting opportunities remaining between now and early January.  So maybe these guys are sleeping in their stands or not spending enough time in the woods.

I have mixed feelings about deer numbers.  On one hand they're magnificent creatures and absolutely fun to watch in the wild.  On the other hand as a tree farmer I am constantly reminded of their impact when I see the damage they cause to young trees.  Visualize thousands of ten year old soft maples - knee high and sporting about three dozen branches.  Maple bushes I call them. They grow fast - but not until you can get one above the browse height of a whitetail. 

As further evidence of my theory about the dump being a veritable trove of information the local paper today said that deer registrations for opening weekend were off by 27% percent compared to last year.  So it will be interesting to see the final numbers after the DNR counts all the registrations after the seasons close.

Anyway, seeing as it's the season to be thankful for all things there is a deer in the woods tonight with much to be thankful for.  I doubt he has any personal knowledge of this fact.  I had him in my crosshairs for about a minute with fifteen minutes of daylight left.  A nubbin buck. I let him walk.  This old hunter is such a soft touch.  Sheesh. 

11/30/08

6:30 PM.  Last day of camp.  Woke-up to a sky the color of slate and the winds have picked-up.  This morning the weather guessers forecast bad weather.  A good day for soup.  So I located my largest stockpot and commenced to reduce the remnants of the Thanksgiving bird to soup stock.  Following that I fired-up the ATV and we fetched a bow blind, a stool from a deer stand and a Christmas tree.

The weather grew progressively worse.  About the time the Packers took the lead it was blowing like a gale and the snow made visibility close to nothing.  The weather guessers are calling this Winter Storm Andrew.  With the wind howling I figured any self-respecting deer would be hunkering down.  I stayed in and hunkered down to watch the Packers lose their game and started putting my stuff away. 

Two cartridges expended resulting in two deer.  A few comments about the business end of taking a deer with a firearm.

This season I hunted exclusively with my Browning A-Bolt - chambered for a 7mm Remington Magnum round.  I call it The Thunder Stick.  When fired the grass will lay flat and everyone knows that Tom got a deer.  The rifle is largely made of stainless steel with a composite stock.  It's ideally suited to hunting in foul conditions.  It is also equipped with a BOSS (a muzzle brake) that allows you to fine-tune the barrel harmonics to the rounds you are using.  The result is really tight shot groupings.  The BOSS significantly reduces the walloping recoil of the magnum load.  The rifle is topped with a Leupold 6.5X20 scope with a 300 yard zero.

Each round in the rifle is tipped with a 150 gr. Swift Scirocco boat tail Spitzer bullet.  With a muzzle velocity of about 3100 fps it imparts about 3200 ft/lbs of energy.  Using a bonded bullet results in complete expansion upon impact along with retention of most of the bullet's weight.  Here is the bullet I recovered from the deer I shot last Sunday-

Tonight I will lovingly clean my rifle of every last molecule of copper fouling, I'll anoint the bore and moving parts with a light coating of gun oil and then lock it in the safe with its brethren.  Treat your weapon well and it will serve you faithfully for your entire life.  Handle it with careful respect and understand its capabilities.

As for the soup the yield on an adult wild turkey is impressive.  I could probably serve my small collection of readers and still have leftovers.  We've been eating leftovers for days.  Turkey sandwiches.  Turkey with gravy. I have a vision of turkey salad when I get back to Tosa.  After cooking the stock for most of the day remove all of the bones and save any remaining meat.  Add a chopped sweet onion along with a big pile of cut carrots and celery.  Salt to taste.  Simmer.  Twenty minutes before serving add all the meat and a package of noodles. These are best.  Top with chopped parsley.  Now I have a humongous batch of leftover soup.

Gute Nacht.

The Tosa East Red Raiders hosted Brookfield East at Hart Park last Saturday - defeating the Spartans (37-35) in the Raider's homecoming with a fourth quarter rally.

The class of 1968 was there to cheer them on.

Not my class but my lovely wife's.  They were celebrating their 40th class reunion.  Yikes!  

How many of you remember what your were up to in 1968? 

How about the war in Vietnam?  

There was the battle of Khe Sanh, massacre at My Lai and Tet Offensive.

Future Senator and Presidential Candidate John McCain was a guest at the Hanoi Hilton.

US ground forces reached their peak at about 550,000. 

By year-end total US deaths surpassed the 30,000 mark.

As ugly as that was it gets worse.

The Soviet Union invaded Czechoslovakia.

Dr. King and Bobby Kennedy were assassinated.

North Korea seized the USS Pueblo and imprisoned its crew.

Saddam Hussein became Vice Chairman of the Revolutionary Council in Iraq after a coup d’état.

The Democratic National Convention in Chicago hosted a full-scale riot - replete with the Illinois National Guard in a staring role.

Sounds to me like a helluva year, eh? 

And you figured the little events of this year were exciting.

On a brighter note - 

Green Bay defeated Oakland in Super Bowl II.

Stanley Kubrick's - 2001: A Space Odyssey premiered.

The price of a gallon of gasoline was around 27 to 34 cents and you could go to a movie for $1.50.

The Standard & Poor's 500 index closed above 100 for the first time and oil was discovered in Alaska.

Apollo 8 orbited the moon and after an investment of $5 million (1960s dollars) the first ATM made its debut.

Music of that year was generally awesome.  

Raquel Welch (and my future wife) were hot.

So last weekend I got to hang-out with a bunch of people I didn't know really very well - initially anyway.  After a couple of days of visiting  - my conclusion?

I was impressed.

Impressed at how many Raider alumni attended.

Impressed at how many make Tosa their home.

The notion I got to move here almost two and a half decades-ago has been reinforced.  

Tosa is a great place to grow-up, come of age, raise a family and indulge your grandchildren. 

Our Wauwatosa, to thee we sing,

Thy glorious victories, ever will bring

Pride to our beating hearts, loyal and free,

Our Alma Mater, praise to thee!

U! Rah! Rah! Wau-wa-tosa!

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Update

For any of you who have been following the comments made to this post by Tosa's Ray Py - here are pictures of the East High School tower:

This is the picture I was looking for.  It was taken by a photog who followed a fire truck to this scene where there was a small welding fire in some debris.  He shot the tower being taken down on a June afternoon in 1974.  Actually most people in the city were unaware that the tower was to be demolished until this picture appeared.  I have never been able to find the single person in authority who approved the work.  It was estimated at the time that it would have cost $25,000 to maintain the tower. Estimates today of its replacement are in the millions.

Have any of you ever had a favorite uncle or aunt?

You know what I mean - the man or woman in your formative years that sort of filled some of the gaps. 

Maybe someone who helped you finish a lifetime chapter.

Or possibly provided an opportunity for you to scratch a lifetime itch.

Ok.  Indulged you?

I did.  More than one - too.

My wife and I invited a niece and a couple of nephews up to the farm for the weekend. 

When we're out of Tosa there is a slight paradigm shift and the aunt and uncle get to act like - well - your favorite aunt and uncle.

Anyway - here's what happened:

Stayed-up late at the fire pit, roasted marshmallows and told creepy stories

Went to Bay Beach in Green Bay - 25 cent rides - a nature center and Lambeau Field

Played Frisbee, launched tennis balls and threw the retriever dummy in the pond with Girlfriend

Grilled venison

Collected bones for the deer bone collection

Set live traps to catch some gophers

Went four-wheeling on the ATV

Drove the tractor

Fetched and uploaded pictures from the trail camera

Went swimming in Lake Michigan

Went to the dirt track races on Saturday night

Learned firearm basics and how to safely handle a .22 rifle

Went to the volunteer fire department's parade and picnic 

All three were ultimately returned home with only a few scrapes, bruises, burns and bug bites.

Tom

One of my fondest memories from childhood is of the big family garden behind our garage.

Dad built a cold frame and topped it with an old storm door.  He showed me how to sow the seeds for the garden while winter still threatened an icy blast.

Those seeds germinated into tiny plants which were subsequently transplanted into the garden.

Bernie - from up the block - owned a rototiller that all the neighbors were allowed to borrow for getting their gardens ready to plant.  I remember the first time I was allowed to use it - it took-off on me and ran across the yard like a thing possessed until dad chased it down.  Yeah.  Once the clutch was engaged off you went - without a kill switch.

After that I was entrusted with the vast responsibility of wielding a hoe much taller than me to keep the weeds at bay.

Lettuce, tomatoes, onions, green beans, sweet corn and other truck were always on the family's summer table.

Summer turned to September - canning season.

A big production was made of driving to the farmer's stand on the corner of 76th Street and Good Hope Road (the northern edge of civilization back then) to purchase apples and pickling cucumbers.  The only other establishment was Claude Manning's simple tavern on the opposite corner.

I can still recall the steamy kitchen as dad sterilized glass jars, mom slicing pickles, me picking-thru and rinsing the dill and the smell of brine cooking on the stove top.  Dill pickles and bread and butter pickles were processed, canned and consumed until the ritual was repeated a year later.

Fall afternoons had Macintosh apples cooking with the smell of cinnamon and clove wafting through the house.  Cooked apples were turned through the grinder by hand to make homemade applesauce - the brown kind - not like the tasteless, pale, homogenized stuff you purchase in a grocery.

Sigh.  Mom is gone and dad isn't always himself lately.  We didn't even make picked beets together this year. 

But I digress.

It is pickle time. 

Pickling stuff allows for all sorts of creative expression.  Periodically I'll hand-select the largest and most handsome of garden green beans and pickle them in my secret garlic dill brine.  They are awesome in a Bloody Mary.  Besides, who doesn't appreciate receiving a home-canned curiosity at Christmastime?

Last year I made dill and Kosher dill along with sweet pickles.  The sweet pickles were tolerable - but not outstanding.  I've discarded what remained in favor of this new recipe. 

I have only a couple of humble pickle vines in the garden but they've been good producers.

Start with a big pile of cukes and allow yourself two to three days to complete everything.

Rinse and scrub.  Slice and soak in a food service pail (plastic or stainless - never aluminum) along with two gallons of water in which two cups of picking lime has been dissolved.  If you like - include a double handful of small sweet onions. 

Cover and store in a cool place for 24 hours.  Drain and rinse.  Soak in cold water and drain.  Do this two additional times.  Soak in cold water for three additional hours and drain.

Blend together in a large kettle the following:

2 quarts of vinegar

8 cups of sugar

1 T Kosher salt

1.5 oz (give or take) of pickling spice

Optional: a T of crushed hot peppers.

Heat the ingredients and stir until dissolved. 

Add the big pile of sliced pickles to the syrupy brine.  Cover and allow to sit for 5-6 hours or overnight.

Bring the pickle mixture to a slow boil for 35 minutes.  Stuff the jars with pickle slices and add the cooked brine leaving a half-inch of head space.  Seat the lids, screw-down the bands and heat in a hot water bath for 10 minutes.  Remove and allow to return to room temperature.  The lids will "pop" as they seal.

I ended-up with 15 pints and had to increase the brine and spices by 50%.

Interested in a bold serving suggestion?  Slap some of these zesty slices between the halves of an ordinary peanut butter or grilled cheese sandwich.  Yum.

Tom

Today is the 64th anniversary of D-Day.

A day noted by the largest invasion armada ever assembled in the history of mankind.  A Tosan happened along shortly thereafter. 

Howard Gaertner arrived on the European continent on June 10, 1944.

Utah Beach - D+4

He had trained with the 78th Division in a weapons company - mostly as a 60mm mortar gunner.  Just before debarking England he was reassigned to the 9th Division, M Company, 3rd Battalion, 47th Infantry Regiment, in a heavy machine gun squad.

As an infantry replacement his MOS didn't carry much weight.

Speaking of weight, the army's .30 caliber water-cooled Browning machine gun was capable of a sustained rate of fire.  The drawback was weight.  (Click on images to enlarge).

In combat the steam can was abandoned in favor of an extra can or two of ammo.  Resourceful GIs figured you could just as easily refill the water jacket by peeing in it.

The 9th isolated the Cotentin Peninsula and captured the important port of Cherbourg.

They wheeled-about and prepared for Operation Cobra - the breakout from Normandy's hedgerow country - The Bocage.

In a prelude to the breakout on July 25th over 3000 U.S. aircraft carpet bombed a designated sector near Saint-Lô.  In one of the war's most stunning examples of fratricide allied troops were pounded by their own air force with errant ordnance. 

The 47th's 3rd battalion HQ was annihilated - hundreds of GIs killed and wounded. 

The 9th advanced - suffering casualties at incredible rates -  yet advanced further than any other division.

Their next major engagement was the Falaise Gap and first contact with British troops.  On or about August 18-19 the Ninth reassembled outside Chartes, France. The battalion was attached to the 3rd Armored Division Combat Command B for support - the final leg of Patton's dash across northern France.

Howard's unit crossed into Belgium on or about September 1st or 2nd - the first Allied force to commence the liberation of Belgium.

On September 3rd the 9th regrouped at Phillipeville, Belgium and prepared to cross the Meuse River on September 5th.  Advancing in assault boats under the cover of darkness - the engineers unwittingly deposited a large number of troops on an island - not on the east bank of the river.

At day-break they were sitting ducks for German mortars and Howard's all-expense-paid, government-arranged tour of northern Europe came to an abrupt halt.  

After being evacuated to the 114th US Army hospital in Kidderminster, England he was subsequently released and reclassified; not to return to the 9th.

He returned home with a Purple Heart, a Bronze Star (with Clusters) and German shrapnel for his troubles.

Dad still lives in Wauwatosa.

Tom

____________________________________________________________________

Post Script 

In 264 days of combat the 9th Infantry Division suffered:

2,905 KIA

792 missing

868 captured

14,066 wounded

18,631 battle casualties

15,233 non-battle casualties

Percent of T/O strength 240.4

Prisoners of war captured 113,324

They were known as Hitler's Nemesis.

___________________________________________________________________________

A popular film featured the 9th.  Can anyone name both the title and the actor who played the leading role?

In January of 1990 I experienced a life-altering event.

I had a bad accident engaging in a seemingly fun winter sport -

Tobogganing.

There was no booze or drugs involved - just my girl friend, a bunch of friends and the kids having a blast on a sunny Sunday.

The crash left me with an unstable burst fracture of the twelfth thoracic vertebrae. 

Things were not looking very good for Tom.

Quickly collecting opinions from various docs - one surgeon seemed to stand-out.

His claim was that he could get me on my feet in practically no time.  Well - not exactly - reasonably soon.

He was one of Milwaukee's hottest surgeons.  Bright, competent, confident.

He was at the top of his game.

I underwent a nine hour surgery to reduce the fracture and stabilize the spine. 

Even with a Cell Saver I received an additional five units of whole blood.

My spine was held together with some fancy plates and lag bolts.

A week later a thoracic surgeon cracked my chest, and the first surgeon sawed-off a rib and used it to perform a posterior fusion of the spine.

After a month in the hospital I was sent home with a brace to wear.

I spent most of the following year working part time and getting better. 

In the spring of 1991 the doctor removed the hardware.

I thanked the him for his skill, confidence and inspiration which sped my recovery.

I gave-up running and embraced riding my bicycle with renewed enthusiasm.

(I kept the hardware as a souvenir of my adventure and stopped setting-off airport metal detectors.)

This was the doc.

You've probably read about this in the news.

I eventually married the girlfriend that was with me on that January day and we've been living happily ever-after.

Not so for Mark Benson.

Formerly MD.

Booze and drugs. 

A slide into the abyss.

Finally a crash resulting in deaths.

I suspect his life isn't going to end so happily ever-after.

God help him. 

Tom

Ahem.

There seems to be some confusion.

I lay it at the feet of the print version of WauwatosaNOW for treading so roughly upon my heretofore barely-tarnished reputation.

Seems they published the blog post about my late mother.

The copy that appeared in print was edited in such a way that girlfriend was presented as a girlfriend of the human female persuasion.

Everyone that reads this blog knows that this is girlfriend.

I am happily married and this is my wife.

The lovely little lady is our step-grandchild.

Stop now with the emails and calls.

Tom

Friday night a buddy calls me with the news (make that a notification) that we're going pheasant hunt'n on Sunday.

I have to met-up with the guys by noon.

Ok.

Girlfriend and I had been chilling-out at the tree farm since Thursday.  She - recovering from a brief illness and me - juggling the day job and farm stuff - somewheres at the opposite corner of the state.

No problem.

We'll pack a shotgun, the boots, the cold weather gear, a couple handfuls of shells a snack for the both of us, hit the road early and be in Jefferson County before lunchtime.

Then it hits me.

Right smack between the eyes.

Today is the anniversary of my mom's death.

It was on a cold and sunny Sunday not too many years ago that I stopped by St. Joe's  after a pheasant hunt to see how mom was doing.

She was doing terrific.

She was doing so well that she informed me she expected to be released the following day.

We talked about hunting. We talked about her coming home.  I reminded her to have pop give us a call when they got home.

 Early Monday the phone rang.

The caller ID said St. Joseph's Hospital.

I took the call thinking mom had an update. 

Nope.

It was the nursing station on her floor with not so good news.

Mom died peacefully between the time they had woke her to take her vitals and bringing breakfast.

Today we had a similar sunny and cold hunt. 

We killed some birds.

While walking thru the snow and watching girlfriend work the cover I had some terrific and lasting memories of mom.

Tom

Post Script -

Grace Gaertner was a substitute teacher for the Milwaukee Public Schools from the 1960s through the early 1980s.

Oddly enough that was her career.

She did not drive so she either walked or took the bus to wherever she was assigned on a daily basis.

She took pride in never having to shut or lock the door to any of the city classrooms to which she was assigned.

She was practical, tough, but loving.

100% Irish.