WWII. A field in France. It was dark, cold, and I was pinned down by a German soldier about 150 yards away in the woods. Since I was low on ammo, I was firing at his muzzle flash only occasionally, just enough to keep him awake.

PANIC! I was suddenly aware of a soldier next to me in the hollow I was using for cover. Before I could get my bayonet, he whispered to me, “Easy, Yank. I’ll see ye get home.” We took turns returning the German’s fire.

Thus it went through the night. Occasional rifle fire, whispered conversation. We were both descendants of the Highland Clan Murray, I was Bob (Robert) from Texas, he was Evan from Aberdeen. I had grown up on a ranch, his father owned a book store. We both loved to read. I had four older brothers, he had a younger brother and an infant sister.

We talked about books that we both loved, stories of the sea and of adventure. Robinson Crusoe. Moby Dick. Sherlock Holmes.

We quoted poetry. I gave him Robert Service (“The Cremation of Sam McGee”), he countered with Robert Burns (“To a Mouse”).

Two men, distant cousins and brothers in arms, sharing their lives in whispers punctuated with gunfire. We lived a lifetime that night.

Toward dawn, I fell asleep, exhausted.

I awoke at noon, the fog had cleared. I could see the German across the way, dead. I turned to Evan, also dead. Long dead. His skin was dried on his bones, his rifle a British Lee-Enfield .303. In his pocket, I found letters addressed to his parents, his brother (Ian), and his baby sister (Muiriol).

I said to Evan, “No, Evan, I’ll see that ye get home.”

I was found there beside Evan three days later, by a squad of U.S. soldiers. I was fevered, more than three days without food or water. Evan was sent with me to be delivered home.

My health returned during the trip back to England, although I was deemed unfit to return to the front. I was given a medical discharge and a final set of orders: Take Evan home.

When I arrived in Aberdeen with Evan, our train was met by his parents and his sister. His brother was in the British Army in Africa. Muiriol was a beautiful young woman of 26 years. I spent a few days in their home. I delivered the letters and told the family about the night that Evan and I spent together his in WW I, mine in WW II. I wasn’t able to quote “To A Mouse,” but they all did. Finally, our last day together we went to church. It was a moving service, ending at Evan’s grave side.

The next day I left Aberdeen for Texas and the ranch. I took Muiriol with me.

                                        By Gerald L. Busby

Well, young Joshua, since you found your way into my war  diaries, I guess I'd better tell you about a young man in my squad  who was named Joshua just like you. He was a young Jewish boy  about my age. His full name was Joshua ben Simon Cohen, the eldest  son of his father. I was the eldest son of my father. It took us a while  to make friends. He was from New York City and I was from Waco,  Texas, where everyone thought they were Christian.

He and I were suspicious of each other, but through Basic  Training, we began to trust each other, become
friendly, and finally  to become friends.

After Basic, we were sent to the Army Quartermaster Corps,  where we were assigned to drive a deuce-and-a-half truck. After  training on the care, feeding and operation of the truck, we and our  truck were put on board a ship and sent to England.

By the time we got to England, Joshua had been cut down to  "Josh". The Brits immediately cut my name of Timothy Thomas down  to "Tim Tom", and seemed to find a lot of humor in my Texas drawl.

After spending a good chunk of our war in England, we became  a part of the great invasion force that landed in France. We and our  truck "Nellie" (named after a mule I once knew), drove all over  liberated France, carrying ammo, or food (if you can call C-Rats  "food"), or replacement troops, or repair parts.

Lots of miles meant lots of hours, sharing the driving chores and  talking. He would talk about New York and I would talk about Texas  and farming. Eventually our talks turned to what it was like to be a  Jew, and Jewish history and traditions. I would try to explain  Christianity, but really didn't know much since I was an "Easter-and-
Christmas" Christian.

He had a prayer cloth and kind of a beanie cap, which I found out  was called a kipa. He also had a small Torah scroll written in Hebrew,   which I found interesting. All I had was a small Gideon New  Testament and Psalms that I was given during Basic. Josh told me  that the Psalms were Jewish hymns, and he sang some of them for  me.

He told me about feasts, and tribes, and judges, and kings.

I said to him one time that I didn't understand the Christian  Holidays, why Christmas was always on December 25, but Easter  moved all over the Spring calendar.

He told me about the Jewish calendar, and how Passover was  always on the same day in the Jewish calendar, but wandered around  in the Christian calendar. He explained Leap Months and how they  were used to keep the Jewish calendar aligned with the seasons of  the year. He explained what Passover was, and that the Christian
Easter was tied to Passover.

Not long after that discussion, we were headed back to the  Quartermaster Depot after delivering supplies to the front, when  Nellie decided to break a tie rod. At the same time, artillery rounds  started falling around us. It seems that the Germans were trying to  break through the front.

The concussion from a shell knocked me out.

When I awoke several hours later, I was in a dark corner of  Nellie's bed with blood smeared on my forehead and arms, even  though I was not injured.

When I climbed out of the truck bed, I found that Joshua had  been severely injured. He had smeared his blood on me and on the  top and tides of the truck bed cover, then had laid down on the  ground and died. A passing German patrol had desecrated Joshua's  body, but they never saw me.

It was a little while before I to realized that the day was Passover.

After I was discharged from the Army, I went to New York and  looked up Rabbi Simon Cohen and his wife, Sarah. They took me into  their home like a long-lost son. I found out that Joshua had written  many letters home, and that the Cohens knew a lot about me.

I shared the story of their son's heroic death, and handed them  the flag from his burial service in France, and also his prayer shawl,  kipa, and Torah Scroll. We wept over the reminders of his faith and  his death. The Cohens took the flag and lovingly stored it away, but  they returned the shawl, kipa, and Torah to me. They explained that
his blood on the items rendered them non-kosher, but that I should  keep them in a place of honor in the memory of my friend.

I thanked them strongly, and assured the Cohens that I would  treasure the mementos, but not worship them.

When you were born, I named you for my friend Joshua. That  also explains why I married Joshua's younger sister, Esther, and why  you have Jewish grandparents living with us in the Parsonage.

Young Joshua, always remember your namesake, and always  celebrate Passover, when another Joshua died for all of us, and  celebrate Easter for Him.

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed (this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor  of Syria.), and all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of  David, which is called Bethlehem; because (he was of the house and lineage of David)  to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. 
 
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this
shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."
 
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. "
 
And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. 
 
But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. 

From Luke 2, King James Version

It ain't what you don't know that gets you in trouble...
It's what you "know" that ain't so!

Use good, fresh corn for this.

Clean your ear of corn of all husks and strings.

Tear a square of Wax Paper large enough to wrap around the ear of corn twice (or a little more). Do noy use plastic wrap or aluminum foil.

Place the ear in the center of the wax paper, then butter the corn.

Roll the corn in the wax paper and twist the ends of the paper to form a sealed package.

Microwave the corn according to your oven's instructions. You may have to adjust your time. In my oven I use eight minutes for one ear,

If you use the commercial microwave steamer bags (Glad or Ziploc), these work as well as the wax paper.

Enjoy your corn.

Today, November 30, is Mom's 84th birthday.

Her life's adventure began in Graham, Texas in 1924. Her Dad was a master carpenter; her Mom was a housewife. Her family moved to Dallas in time for her to start school. She graduated Sunset High School in Dallas. During her high school years, she met Howard Busby at Bethel Temple AOG. (Howard attended Woodrow Wilson HS.) They married on March 11, 1945 at Bethel Temple, with the reception following at the home of the 

   groom's parents. Howard was an Ensign, Supply Corps, USNR. Their adventure together included living in Cleveland OH, Boston MA, and Dallas TX. They had two sons, Gerald (me) and my brother Douglas who lives with his wife and descendants in Redding CA.Mom and Dad remained together until Dad's death on May 5, 2001. She joined him on Mar 12, 2007. They remained in love and adventuresome their entire life together, with a second home in Santa Fe NM, and some kind of day trip in the Northeast Texas area every Sunday. They are interred in the DFW National Cemetery.

I love them both, and miss them very much.

experience. I had two years of the best technical training available to me (Data Systems Technical School at Mare Island Naval Shipyard, Vallejo CA) followed by 1.5 years aboard the USS Cadmus AR-14, a repair ship homeported at Newport RI. My last 3.5 years was aboard the USS Franklin D Roosevelt CVA-42, an aircraft carrier homeported at Mayport FL.
 
There were good points (invaluable work experience and travel) and bad points (too much time away from home).I've been to Cuba, Jamaica, Puerto Rico, and the US Virgin Islands. I've visited Barcelona, Cannes, Naples, Rome, and Athens.
 
I was privileged to have friends from Arkansas, Missouri, and Texas, from Philadelphia and from the Watts section of Los Angeles.
 
I served with Officers, both good and bad, and senior petty officers, both good and bad, and junior enlisted, both good and bad.
 
I miss the Navy, and I don't miss the Navy. My computer is set up to indicate the passage of the watches by ringing the Ship's Bell every half hour. A Bugler sounds Reveille, Morning Colors, Evening Colors, and Taps.
 
I am proud to have served with my fellow sailors during the Viet Nam era (1968-1975), with the Marines that we had on board the FDR, and to know men from all of the services that I have met since my discharge. There is something special about the men and women that have served in the Armed Forces.
 
To all of you: Fair Winds and Following Seas.
 
Gerald L Busby DS1 USN

When you are making your favorite meatloaf recipe, try 1 or more of the following:

1. Try using a meat blend of 1/2 ground beef, 1/2 country sausage (regular or hot).
2. If your recipe calls for cooking oil, try olive oil.
3. For the meatloaf sauce, try a mild or medium picante sauce.

More later.

Tio Zopilote

Allan Eppes (Judd Hirsch) quoted part of this poem in the Numb3rs episode, "The Janus List."

Siegfried Sassoon (18861967).  The Old Huntsman and Other Poems.  1918.

 
The Death-Bed

 
 
HE drowsed and was aware of silence heaped     

Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls;     

Aqueous like floating rays of amber light,     

Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep.     

Silence and safety; and his mortal shore

Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death.     

  

Someone was holding water to his mouth.     

He swallowed, unresisting; moaned and dropped     

Through crimson gloom to darkness; and forgot     

The opiate throb and ache that was his wound.

  Watercalm, sliding green above the weir.     

  Watera sky-lit alley for his boat,     

  Bird-voiced, and bordered with reflected flowers     

  And shaken hues of summer; drifting down,     

  He dipped contented oars, and sighed, and slept.

  

Night, with a gust of wind, was in the ward,     

Blowing the curtain to a glimmering curve.     

Night. He was blind; he could not see the stars     

Glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud;     

Queer blots of colour, purple, scarlet, green,

Flickered and faded in his drowning eyes.     

  

Rainhe could hear it rustling through the dark;     

Fragrance and passionless music woven as one;     

Warm rain on drooping roses; pattering showers     

That soak the woods; not the harsh rain that sweeps

Behind the thunder, but a trickling peace,     

Gently and slowly washing life away.

    .    .    .    .

     

He stirred, shifting his body; then the pain     

Leapt like a prowling beast, and gripped and tore     

His groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs.

  But someone was beside him; soon he lay     

  Shuddering because that evil thing had passed.     

  And death, whod stepped toward him, paused and stared.     

  

Light many lamps and gather round his bed.     

Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live.

Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet.     

Hes young; he hated War; how should he die     

When cruel old campaigners win safe through?     

  

But death replied: I choose him. So he went,     

And there was silence in the summer night;

Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep.     

Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.