Lethal Minds Volume 24
Volume 24, 1 July, 2024
Letter from the Editor
I spend a fair bit of time outside. Not enough for my liking, but a fair bit. One of the ways I do that is by membership in Backcountry Hunters and Anglers. The element within which I volunteer is called the Armed Forces Initiative. We seek to “instill within the Military Community, a knowledge of conservation theory, a love of wild places, and a desire to elevate America's public wild lands as fundamental components of American Freedom.” That isn’t a plea for you to join, it’s just context for how I came to find myself sitting in an RV park aboard Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point with a bunch of veterans and active-duty service members, talking about fishing.
Unfortunately, this is America in 2024, an election year, and everything comes with political baggage, even in a decidedly non-partisan organization. Fortunately, there’s a commonality to military service that allows us to transcend that. As I sat talking to people who had all worn the cloth of the nation, most of whom I had only just met, I considered the current politically opportunistic narrative regarding the nation.
“It’s broken.”
“It’s becoming irretrievable."
“It’s never been this bad.”
Then I thought about a time a century and a half ago when Americans killed one another in droves. I thought about a book I am reading about the 1960s, when homegrown terrorists sought to subvert elections, intimidate, beat, and kill their fellow Americans, and murder law enforcement officers, largely without blowback. I also thought about the years that came in the wake of those times and how veterans of some of the most cataclysmic warfare in which our nation has participated took the lead in reconciliation.
I think that’s because those of us who have spent time in places where civil society has broken down or never existed don’t look at anarchy as some grand adventure. We see it as something to be kept at bay, something that lessens us all as humans and citizens of the world’s greatest ongoing experiment in freedom. A big part of protecting that is listening to one another and seeking some common ground.
Freedom of speech and the redress of grievances are deeply important to me, particularly speech with which I vehemently disagree or grievances based on viewpoints I consider ill-conceived or ignorant. Much of that is because when speech, or the willingness to honor it, breaks down, things will devolve. The dumbest, meanest, most desperate elements of society will seek violence, and it’s a genie that is damned hard to get back in the bottle.
So I ask you, as people who raised your hand and promised to support and defend the Constitution of the United States, to again lead by example. You need not preach or elocute or pontificate, rather I’d ask you to seek opportunities to listen and ask questions rather than make assertions. Find the ability to keep your counsel and instead ask someone to explain why they believe what they believe rather than explain to them why they’re wrong. Look for the things on which you might be able to agree before you seek to separate them from their worst, and often most deeply held, instincts.
Veterans led this effort before, perhaps most notably the Greatest Generation. They recognized that in a trench line, politics are meaningless compared to the universal truth of a bayonet and the importance of someone to watch your back.
It’s no less true now.
Fire for Effect,
Russell Worth Parker
Editor in Chief - Lethal Minds Journal
Submissions are open at lethalmindsjournal.submissions@gmail.com.
Dedicated to those who serve, those who have served,
and those who paid the final price for their country.
Two Grunts Inc. is proud to sponsor Lethal Minds Journal and all of their publications and endeavors. Like our name says we share a similar background to the people behind the Lethal Minds Journal, and to the many, many contributors. Just as possessing the requisite knowledge is crucial for success, equipping oneself with the appropriate tools is equally imperative. At Two Grunts Inc., we are committed to providing the necessary tools to excel in any situation that may arise. Our motto, “Purpose-Built Work Guns. Rifles made to last,” reflects our dedication to quality and longevity. With meticulous attention to manufacturing and stringent quality control measures, we ensure that each part upholds our standards from inception to the final rifle assembly. Whether you seek something for occasional training or professional deployment, our rifles cater to individuals serious about their equipment. We’re committed to supporting The Lethal Minds Journal and its readers, so if you’re interested in purchasing one of our products let us know you’re a LMJ reader and we’ll get you squared away. Stay informed. Stay deadly. -Matt Patruno USMC, 0311 (OIF) twogruntsinc.com support@twogruntsinc.com
In This Issue
Opinion
Moldova: Is It Ideally Suited for Russian Hybrid Action to Probe the West?
The Veterans’ Health Crisis Calls for More Non-Clinical Solutions
The Written Word
I Am Not Owed Anything
Book Review - “53 Days on Starvation Island: The World War II Battle That Saved Marine Corps Aviation”
Book Excerpt- "Chamber Divers: The Untold Story of the D-Day Scientists Who Changed Special Operations Forever"
Screenplay Excerpt - Lost Souls
Poetry and Art
Choices
Uniform
Polka Night
Four Second Delay
Opinion
Op-Eds and general thought pieces meant to spark conversation and introspection.
Moldova: Is It Ideally Suited for Russian Hybrid Action to Probe the West?
Jonas Frey
Introduction
Since the end of the Soviet Union, the formally neutral Republic of Moldova, bordering Romania in the west and Ukraine in the east, has balanced dependence on Russian commerce with the prospect of joining the European Union (EU). With a frozen conflict regarding the independence of Transnistria on its territory, Russian elites dominating the economy, and the continued presence of Russian troops on its land, Moldova continues to involuntarily provide Moscow with a foothold in Europe. Analysis of the most probable developments within the next few years indicates that the Western world must decide on how to position itself in order to make certain that Moldova need not fear a similar aggression from Russia as Ukraine experienced in 2022.
How the Republic of Moldova Came to Be
Historically part of the Principality of Moldavia, the region known as Bessarabia was integrated into the Russian Empire in the late 18th century, while the western lands formed modern-day Romania. Post-Ottoman Empire decline led to power struggles and eventual Soviet integration as the Moldavian SSR in 1940. Stalin's policies significantly industrialized the region alongside forced Russification, particularly along the Nistru River, which later influenced Transnistrian identity. The late 1980s saw local movements advocating for national language restoration and Russian military withdrawal. Independence declarations from Gagauzia and Transnistria in 1990 followed Moldova's own sovereignty claim, contributing to the complex political landscape that characterizes contemporary Moldova.
The Transnistrian Conflict
The Transnistrian conflict began as Moldova moved towards independence from the Soviet Union, with Moldova's government aiming to reintegrate with Romania and distance itself from Soviet history. This shift was resisted by Transnistria, a region with a significant Slavic population, sparking fears of cultural and political marginalization. Paramilitary formations in Transnistria opposed Moldova's nationalistic trend, a significant contributing cause in the August 1991 coup attempt in Moscow, which further polarized the sides. Moldova declared independence in August 1991, followed by Transnistria's declaration and name change to the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic shortly after. With military aid from the then-Russian 14th Guards Army, Transnistria's forces took control of the region's security apparatus, leading to armed conflict. The skirmishes peaked over the strategically critical town of Bendery before a Russian-brokered ceasefire was established in July 1992. A joint peacekeeping force of Russian, Moldovan, and Transnistrian units remains to this day, maintaining an uneasy status quo. International efforts to resolve the conflict have been unsuccessful, leaving the region in a frozen state of unresolved sovereignty and ongoing tension.
Current Situation
The frozen conflict between Moldova and the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic (PMR) hinges on three core issues: disputed sovereignty with both claiming the same land, Transnistrian pursuit of equal state recognition by seeking treaty negotiations instead of governance by Moldovan law, and contested jurisdiction over key state functions. Economically, Transnistria depends on Russian subsidization, including discounted energy and the provision of Russian passports, sustaining Russia's strategic position in Eastern Europe. Conversely, Moldova, while still part of the Commonwealth of Independent States, has shifted towards the EU, particularly after their Association Agreement and EU candidate status, redirecting its trade focus and seeking EU integration. Moldova's economy is challenged by a reliance on agriculture, limited resources, and internal political strife, with the industry concentrated in Transnistria.
Moldova's ambitions to join the EU face challenges unique to its situation, despite precedents of EU expansion to nations with diverse ethnic minorities. While earlier EU enlargements incorporated countries like Romania and Slovakia with Hungarian minorities and the Baltic states with Russian minorities—focusing on minority protection, human rights, and functioning democracies—the effectiveness of such integration is debated. The example of Cyprus shows that EU membership can be granted amidst unresolved conflicts, but the wisdom of these decisions is retrospectively questioned. The ongoing war in Ukraine and subsequent geopolitical developments will greatly influence Moldova's EU candidature, potentially requiring extensive negotiations and compromises. The Association Agreement with the EU has already benefited Moldova by providing European market access and lifting travel restrictions, which the separatist Transnistria region has also utilized. Russia's opposition to European integration may prompt efforts to destabilize Moldova. The final determination of Moldova's EU admission will await the resolution of the Russo-Ukrainian conflict and the geopolitical climate at that time. Moldova's neutrality serves as a strategic balance between Russian and Western interests but may be shed if EU membership becomes certain. EU treaty provisions allow for neutral member states, exempting them from mutual defense obligations, suggesting Moldova's neutrality isn't a barrier to EU entry, unlike NATO membership, which would require neutrality's end. As long as EU integration is the focus and no significant political shifts occur, Moldova's neutral stance is expected to be maintained and respected internationally, aligning with its population's will.
The impact of the Russo-Ukrainian War
The geopolitical instability in the Republic of Moldova was exacerbated by Russia's aggressive actions in the region, beginning with the annexation of Crimea and the conflict in Donbas in 2014. This aggression, highlighted by the earlier invasion of Georgia in 2008, signaled a threat to countries with association agreements with the EU, such as Moldova, Ukraine, and Georgia. Moldova's experience with Transnistria paralleled Ukraine's challenges with Crimea, underscoring Ukraine's support for Moldova's territorial integrity. The occupation of Crimea triggered Moldovan concern over the vulnerability of Transnistria to similar Russian intervention.
The Russo-Ukrainian War further complicated the situation, as Russia's attacks on Ukraine's energy infrastructure indirectly affected Moldova, which is heavily reliant on energy imports from Ukraine, pushing Moldova to seek assistance from neighboring Romania. Moldova, with a population of around 3.2 million, has borne a heavy burden, taking in nearly 900,000 Ukrainian refugees and grappling with missile strikes. The early stages of the Russian invasion heightened the risk of the Transnistrian conflict escalating, with fears of Russian advances towards Odessa and possible concerted efforts to destabilize the Moldovan government. Although this immediate risk has seemingly diminished, the social, economic, and political ramifications for Moldova remain significant, increasing ethnic tensions and accelerating its pivot towards the EU.
Within this context, Moldova's application for EU candidature, supported by President Maia Sandu and Ukraine's President Volodymyr Zelensky, was successful. This move was seen as strategically important, as it was driven by the realization among many Moldovans that the country's independence could be under threat from Russian aggression. The uncertainties surrounding the outcome of the Russo-Ukrainian War continue to loom over the region, influencing Moldova's EU aspirations and its quest for stability and sovereignty. Moldova's future, in many respects, appears tied to the resolution of the conflict in Ukraine and the resultant geopolitical shifts in Eastern Europe.
The current state of affairs in Ukraine and its possible impact on Moldova
The conflict between Russia and Ukraine may eventually reach a stalemate resembling the Korean demarcation line, leading to the persistence of martial law in Ukraine and further postponing the 2024 presidential election. Some argue that this is the main goal of the Russian federation—not to win, but to destabilize. This, in turn, could lead Russia to explore how Europe would react to its annexation of a portion of Moldova. NATO's response to potential conflicts involving Transnistria and Russia is expected to be limited. A NATO intervention against Russia is highly unlikely due to the nuclear threat, the potential destabilization of Eurasia, and the possibility of Chinese intervention. Moldova's trade reliance on access through Transnistria gives Russia leverage, as the closure of borders would be detrimental to Moldova. The presence of Russian troops in Moldova symbolizes the limited sovereignty of the country. Though the media and academia speculate about Russia's potential annexation of the PMR, the EU's lack of a military response and NATO's lack of engagement in non-member conflicts, as observed in Ukraine since 2014, suggest a passive international reaction. Moldova's own military limitations, due to funding issues, insufficient conscription, and Russian political pressure, also hinder its ability to respond to aggression. Moldova's declared neutrality has been criticized as inaction and possibly a strategic tool for Russia to prevent Moldova from aligning with NATO. These factors contribute to the complex geopolitical situation that Moldova navigates with limited options for safeguarding its sovereignty.
The Veterans’ Health Crisis Calls for More Non Clinical Solutions
Matt Benowitz & Karen Pearson
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results, but whether due to a lack of creativity or undervaluing individuals, few issues are as negatively impacted by missed opportunities as veterans’ health and quality of life. Most current programs are not fully serving those who served us. Throwing hospitals, doctors, and outreach initiatives at the problem has done little to inhibit our nation’s unacceptably high rate of adverse outcomes for veterans, especially suicide.
Rehabilitation facilities and counseling centers are just one piece of the solution puzzle. More than two-thirds of veterans who commit suicide have never contacted support services. Traditional clinical treatment is not accessible, affordable, or even effective on its own. Spending too much time in medical settings is often psychologically detrimental; it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy driving veterans to think, “Well, here I am again. Something must really be wrong with me.”
Last year, the Veterans Health Administration’s Behavioral Health Autopsy Program studied thousands of suicides, seeking to pinpoint potential warning signs. The three highest risk factors for veteran suicide are all physical symptoms: pain (55.9%), sleep difficulty (51.7%), and increased health problems (40.7%). All three are alleviated by exercise and social interaction. Veterans need to be fulfilled in their lives, engaged in their communities, and comfortable in their skin. Veterans need enjoyable activities and existential purpose; ways to move their bodies while stimulating their minds and developing a renewed sense of value and purpose.
The mandate is clear. There must be more investment in active, veteran-friendly environments that help veterans set tangible goals. What would environments providing such resources look like? You don’t have to use your imagination to find out, it exists at the Adaptive Performance Center (APC), located in Helena and Billings, Montana.
The APC is a non-profit fitness center, exclusively for veterans and active duty military members, seeking to eliminate veteran suicide through physical fitness and recreating the sense of community often lost when veterans depart the military. APC’s vision is to return a sense of purpose and dignity to every veteran and allow them an opportunity to self-actualize by creating a holistic, non-judgmental, safe community space.
Veteran’s ability to come to APC and experience physical and mental success gives them the opportunity to believe they are capable again. Self-esteem, positivity, energy, and motivation all flow from that belief. A 2011 study in Public Health Reports found that veterans “who reported at least 20 minutes of vigorous physical activity twice weekly had significantly decreased odds for new-onset and persistent PTSD symptoms.”
Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, a renowned trauma researcher, advocates “embodied mindfulness,” a practice integrating mindfulness with the body, mind, and mind-body associations. Embodied mindfulness involves elements of awareness, acceptance, and attention while physical conditioning keeps veterans grounded in the “safe” present, separating trauma as part of their past.
Between both sites, more than 1,200 veterans have enrolled as APC members. Based around an accessible-to-all gym, APC offers personal training, yoga, boxing, high-intensity interval classes, occupational therapy, massage/acupuncture, mentorship, veteran advocacy, and a food bank to any veteran who walks into the facility.
When you read feedback from APC members, denying the potency of intersecting a familiar community with a natural activity is impossible.
58-year-old T.K. says “APC has changed my life! I have more confidence in myself and am able to put my mental health first now.”
47-year-old M.G. says “APC has given me the connection I lost when I left the military. It is truly a safe space for all veterans… without a doubt APC saved my life…”.
41-year-old J.F. says “I feel like I always have somewhere to go, which is rare to find as a veteran.”
Throughout the country, similar recreation-based reintegration programs - equine therapy, outdoor groups, and sports leagues, just to name a few - have instilled normalcy and possibility in thousands of veterans. Community organizations understand the interests and needs of those they serve. They are best equipped, through camaraderie and exercise, to show their veterans that they deserve a secure, healthy place in society.
As for APC, we will expand nationwide. Currently, seven states are asking for an APC chapter. APC has extremely strong Congressional support on the state and national level and the local communities and granting sources in both Billings and Helena have been exceedingly supportive, but grant money is needed to support these expansions and sustain current programs. Individuals, foundations, and benefactors should please allocate their support accordingly.
Karen Pearson, LCPC is the co-founder and CEO of the Adaptive Performance Center. Matt Benowitz is a member of AmeriCorps VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America) serving with APC. You can visit or call the Adaptive Performance Center in Billings [1420 Broadwater Avenue, 406-281-3848] or Helena [2475 N. Cooke Street, 406-422-0966]. Check out APC’s website here (adaptiveperformancecenter.org) or donate to its programs here (adaptive-performance-center.square.site/). If you become a member or supporter of APC, please let them know that you were inspired by this column.
Written Word
Fiction and Nonfiction written by servicemen and veterans.
I Am Not Owed Anything
A. Rodriguez
I never used to consider myself to be selfish. I joined the military for an opportunity to deploy to a combat environment and lead people through some version of the hell that so many survivors write about. Instead, I have stayed in more 5-star hotels than combat zones.
The first time I had a chance to see combat, or something like it, my father died and I was called home by my mother, despite telling her I did not want to return, that I wanted to go on the upcoming operation. My command sent me home without even asking what I wanted to do. In a situation that was already not super, I was stripped of my independence. To be fair, I did not aggressively try to get it back, due to the tens of people telling me if I didn’t go home to support my mother I’d regret it forever. Well, it’s only been a couple of years, but let me tell you, I regret missing the operation. I felt like I was owed a deployment. I should have been at that gate when the bomb went off. I should have been doing my job as an MP. Maybe then things would have been different. Maybe not. God only knows.
I moved career fields. I told myself: “Surely these people will deploy. Surely I’ll be able to use my past experiences to make myself valuable to a team and be used to do good things in a dangerous place.” Laugh out fucking loud. Turns out I was as out of touch with reality as a shitty commander who doesn’t understand why their DEOCS survey is rough. I was back to being treated as a boot. Which is fair, because I was new in the field. The work hours sucked. Our mission was made up, there was no real impact to operations. I hated it.
I became more depressed than I’ve ever wanted to admit. I worked. I told myself I was doing my best but I was absolutely sandbagging it. My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. I told no one; just kept working. My uncle died unexpectedly. I told no one; just kept working. My dog died. I told a few people. I kept working. My grandfather died. I told fewer than three people who could not impact my tasking or life in any way. I just got to work. No one cared. No one noticed. I became resentful.
It’s not that people died. That happens. It’s life. But I am separated from my mother and the rest of my living family by thousands of miles, paying fake dues towards frivolous missions to advance the careers of some conniving field grade officers who pay lip service to taking care of their people but when you ask them for time off for your guys they call you soft and undisciplined. Meanwhile, they’re out of the office at 1400 on Fridays while you keep working.
My resentment builds. I’ve worked through adversity. I’ve given myself to the Marine Corps. I’ve asked, pleaded, begged to be sent into harm’s way; to be sent to dangerous places to do difficult things. I’m told I’m needed here. They can’t spare me for this upcoming mission. They’re sending someone who is easier to replace. I smell a rat. I want a negative counseling. I want someone to sit me down and tell me I suck if that’s the case. Don’t let me continue if I’m the problem.
I stew on being denied an opportunity, the one I’ve been asking for, working towards, and inquiring about. My blood boils daily. I become hateful - of everyone. None are spared. I convince myself that no one else has lost so much and complained so little. No one else has volunteered for the position I was in, and it was a shitty one. No one else poured themselves into it, sought advice, took action. My Christianity disintegrated. I did not love my neighbor. I showed up to work in spite of them. I disdained them. What have they been dealing with? What have they contributed? Do they even give a fuck about the looming threat? Not the one over the horizon that we’re comfortable passing to the next generation, but the one right off the coast - the one already taking action against us. I believed they lived in ignorance.
There is no other phrase for what I became besides this: an entitled bitch. I truly believed that because I had chosen to go overseas and lost people I loved and missed the opportunity to be with my family through those times that I was owed something that met my terms for what would be worthy of enduring that loss. Hint: training exercises were not it.
I’m ashamed to have harbored those feelings for so long, to have been such a little shit. That’s not how any of the people I lost raised me to behave. It’s not in line with the values that got me this far in life. It is absolutely not in line with the kind of person I want to be. In looking to be a quiet professional, to be “stoic,” I denied a natural part of human nature: the need to grieve and connect with others in trying times, and instead became an obnoxious, negative, and victim-minded person.
I was looking for something on the outside to make all the hurt I felt, all the big moments I missed, mean something, to make it worthwhile. I wanted a mission that mattered, and there wasn’t one to be seen anywhere on the horizon. I wanted someone else to acknowledge what I was dealing with and give me some semblance of reassurance that my time was not being wasted, and that the work we were doing mattered. But that’s not right. That’s not how the world works, nor should it be. The principle of hard work should be enough. The desire to do good work and contribute to a greater purpose should be enough. Hindsight is usually 20/20, and I wish I could have simply learned this lesson and internalized it by reading about and listening to other people’s experiences, but I am human, and far from perfect.
If I hurt you or wasted your time with my whining, I apologize. Please know it was another case of the timeless classic “It’s not you, it’s me.” I’m done waiting and angling for the “perfect deployment”. If war is declared I’ll gladly do my part, but until then, the Marine Corps can keep its end-of-tour awards and farewell speeches. I am more interested in being a good American and doing work that makes a tangible difference.
Book Review - Mina Ingraham
53 Days on Starvation Island: The World War II Battle That Saved Marine Corps Aviation by John R. Bruning
John R. Bruning’s 53 Days on Starvation Island is a book which, at its best, manages not only virtually to put the reader in the air with the aviators of Marine Air Group (MAG) 23 in the bleak early days of US operations on Guadalcanal (called by the Japanese Starvation Island) in August – September 1942, but to show readers exactly how an extremely diverse group of “[a]verage Americans, with minimal training and experience” – and with inferior equipment supported by at times marginal logistics – “bent the tide of history to their will” (521). The picture of war it offers is unstinting and hard, and the portraits of the men involved are not always flattering. As an occasional counterpoint to recurring themes of bravery, skill, and above all, endurance, there are examples of moral collapse, incompetence, casualties by friendly fire, malingering, and waste. In that sense, this weighty, well-researched book, written by an author with an obvious regard for the men of whom he writes, is much more than a series of “I was there” vignettes, mindless “greatest generation” hero worship, a dry recitation of unit deployments and engagements, or mere cheerleading and flag waving. Instead, 53 Days is an invitation to visit and learn about a profoundly difficult place and time with ordinary people who performed extraordinary deeds with what they had, using the tactics they could improvise.
It can be difficult, more than eighty years later, to fully envision just how desperate the situation on Guadalcanal became before the eventual victory, or how severe the losses were. But “[b]y the third week of September [1942], [MAG-23] were a spent force,” Bruning writes.
The pilots and their crew climbed into the cockpits every day knowing the only way out of this nightmare was death or a debilitating wound . . . . They were being physically and emotionally broken, one grinding mission, one nightly naval bombardment, at a time. Yet they stepped up every day and flew the missions required of them. For most, hope was a distant memory, and thoughts of getting home had long since been abandoned. The squadron flight surgeons wanted to ground almost the entire air group as unfit to fly. They clashed over this decision with MAG-23’s chief of staff . . . who . . . finally shut them down, barking, “They’ve got to keep flying. It’s better than a Japanese bayonet stuck in their ass.” (448)
In short, there was real doubt about the outcome of the Guadalcanal fight, and the men who were there, not only the aviators, but their support personnel as well as the “mud Marines” (as they are referred to in the book) MAG-23 were there to support, were simply run to the absolute limit of human endurance, and beyond, to help win it. It is an incomparable story, which Bruning tells with detail and care.
If the book can be faulted, in the first instance, it might tend slightly to the speculative and conjectural regarding the innermost thoughts and emotions of some people involved, which may make the events and persons come alive to an extent, but at some cost in terms of verifiability and veracity. A related possible fault pertains to Bruning’s decision, after a strong and engaging ten-page introduction that takes readers right into the action, to spend about fifty pages moving the narrative to the homecoming, after the Guadalcanal fight, of the book’s three main figures – then Cpt. Marion Carl, who became, among numerous other firsts, the first Marine air combat ace in World War II; then Maj. John L. Smith, who commanded VMF-223 on Guadalcanal and was awarded the Medal of Honor, and then Lt. Col. Richard C. Mangrum, who commanded VMSB-232 and would ultimately become Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps in 1965 – in an attempt to highlight the difference between the persistent pre-war mentality they found in much of the United States in late 1942 with the realities of what they had experienced and what they knew it would take actually to win the war. The jump seemed a bit jarring and off-putting, particularly since this section of the book contains the most speculative and conjectural elements regarding inner dialog, motives, and value judgments.
But these are minor quibbles. This is a fine book, a salutary reminder of the greatness ordinary Americans are capable of under extreme duress, and a fitting tribute both to those who died on Guadalcanal, and to those who had to try to live with the price of victory.
Book Excerpt - Rachel Lance
Chamber Divers: The Untold Story of the D-Day Scientists Who Changed Special Operations Forever
The crews of the Admiralty’s smaller boats agreed that “slight” on the wave-grading scale was rough “from the point of view of a very small craft.” On New Year’s Eve, Friday December 31, 1943, the crews of two little Allied boats worked their way through the wintry waters toward the coast of Normandy, France, aiming for beaches that would be code-named “Gold” and “Juno.” Their craft were very small. The seas were “slight.”
The weather was so bad, the radar system carried by these highly specialized crews struggled to get a signal, and so the crews weren’t sure their navigation was correct. They kept getting hammered by rain. Only half had protective clothing. On top of that, everyone was seasick.
However, these spies did not want to waste these precious moments in the waxing-moon period before and after New Year’s Eve. If they did, their beach scouting for Operation Overlord would be even further behind, and beach landing intended for June of 1944 might not be possible at all. But the waves would not comply.
By 2200 hours the radar conditions improved, and the newfound signal let Nigel Clogstoun-Willmott correct their location. They were seven miles offshore. He shifted their heading, and the swell now propelled them from behind. They pushed their LCP(L) to maximum speed while the last reflected glow of the winter sun disappeared behind them, and the beam of the Pointe de Ver lighthouse onshore emerged ahead through the rain. The sight of the beam came as a relief.
Another hour closer to shore, the crew lowered a hurriedly adapted dinghy anchor until they felt it lock into the bottom, seven feet below the surface. They had lost their own anchor to the rough seas. The stern of their boat pivoted around the firmly set point. Logan Scott-Bowden and Bruce Ogden-Smith grabbed the depth-measuring pole that they had improvised en route, even though it was annoyingly short, because their original pole had been lost to the waves, too.
The rain continued to pour. Scott-Bowden and Ogden-Smith slipped into the water. They had a hundred seventy yards to swim to where their legs would reach bottom, and a hundred fifty yards to wade after that.
Once in the shallows, Scott- Bowden thought he felt soft mud beneath the soles of his boots, or perhaps peat. It was firm but slippery. He tried to hold his breath, dive down, and take a sample with an auger, but he got hammered by the surf. The dark glop ran out of the auger tube as soon as he pulled it out of the water. Instead, as a compromise, he reached down with one hand and grabbed a fistful of the underwater mystery terrain. He rubbed the muck across his face, using the exposed sensitive skin of his cheeks and other facial features to assess its texture, to assess if it could support an Allied tank. Ogden-Smith and he had reached the depth ranges where that might matter, depending on the state of the tide.
By the stroke of midnight, they reached dry shore. The blackout in the French town of La Rivière was complete, so neither scout saw any sign of life onshore. They stayed hunkered down anyway, as they had been trained.
The slowly spinning beacon of the lighthouse above them onshore backlit the long, unfurled coils of razor-sharp concertina wire the Germans had used to crown the exits. The lighthouse was like a mechanical spinning spy, a friendly French presence on the occupied shore, and with each sweeping flash, it revealed to the scouts where Nazi defenses had—but also had not—been placed. “A gap in the wire exists 5 yards west of Groyne B,” Scott-Bowden and Logan-Smith noted. The gap could have been a clean egress point for landing troops. The beach had groynes built outward into the water to limit beach erosion, and those low seawalls were proving useful for mapping.
A sliver of light broke through the darkness up by the lighthouse. It was someone opening a door, probably a German trooper, given the hour was past the curfew for regular citizens.
Scott-Bowden and Ogden-Smith froze in silence. The light disappeared. They continued to work westward over the sands.
Their current beach was “a belt of clean sand on top of rock,” about eighty yards across. They took a sample of sand and placed it into container number one, one of the many small tubes wrapped around them in a belt like a bandolier. They probed the depth of the sand. It varied between three and nine inches, but it was never more than nine inches deep before solid rock. The duo continued to take samples as they moved down the length of the shore.
Ogden-Smith huddled on Scott-Bowden’s right, looking inland, and he thought he detected movement at the back of the beach a mere forty yards away from their own flattened shapes. Ogden-Smith saw a light blink twice across his vision. He thought it might have been a flashlight. He signaled Scott-Bowden. They froze again. Thankfully, they never found out for sure what Scott- Bowden had seen. The rain worked to their advantage, and “the visibility was very bad.” They waited. The light disappeared on its own.
Another section of beach was covered with long stones “worn smooth and flat by the sea.” The largest were about eighteen inches long and less than three inches thick. The duo pocketed more rocks to bring back as examples.
The clock counted down to the new year of 1944 with the two men flattened against the beach, placing soil and sand into sample tubes and unrolled condoms. A few minutes past midnight, they edged their way back into the vigorous breaking surf. The waves battered them, treating their bulky insulated swimsuits and equipment like aquatic sails to hurl them back onto the shore, and it took them half an hour to swim the two hundred fifty yards out to the small craft waiting for them at anchor. In the process they lost a fighting knife and both of their sampling augers.
The tools, they hoped, would stay buried without detection. They watched new waves roll in and knew their footsteps onshore “would be washed out by the flooding tide.” They had timed the mission that way. By the time the German troops woke up the next day, all visible trace of Operation KJH would be gone.
Scott-Bowden and Ogden-Smith drew their detailed measurements up into a map and summarized their assessment in a report that they presented along with the samples of soil, rock, sand, and seaweed. They highlighted the places where the German defenses were weak. They returned their information to the 21st Army Group, who had determined the simple priority for this operation: “The important object was the examination of certain beaches,” and examine the beaches they had.
The special operators of Operation KJH were aware of the import of their acts. “On these operations depends to a very great extent the final success of Operation Overlord,” Clogstoun-Willmott wrote in his final report about the scouting of beaches Juno and Gold. In the following weeks, the Allies used their information to select beaches to practice for the landings of Operation Overlord, and prepare novel techniques to handle the selected landing sites. Thanks to Scott-Bowden, Ogden-Smith, and the others, the Allies learned where to target, how to avoid the worst gun emplacements, and what to be ready for on June 6, 1944.
Screenplay Excerpt - Jeremiah Granden
Lost Souls
INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY JEREMIAH BLACK gazes at the sculpture of Shiva on the coffee table. The LSD is taking hold. PHIL "THE ACID COP" MAROUN, an unconventional former police detective in his fifties, watches Jeremiah's face. The Acid Cop is kind of a Pacific Coast oddball - a hippie shaman and intellectual who wandered into police work through some twist of fate. Jeremiah is tall, rugged, and powerfully built with edges of sensitivity and intelligence to his face. He is a sheriff's deputy in the Seattle metro area.
MAROUN It's kicking in, huh, Deputy Black?
MAROUN See who?
JEREMIAH Shiva. He's here.
MAROUN (delighted) Outstanding. Well, we are on a mountaintop. That's where Shiva dwells.
JEREMIAH With the world's evil below.
MAROUN They are somewhere low then. In the city. Low like devils. Is that it?
JEREMIAH (not listening) What's with the mask, Shiva?
MAROUN Tell me about his mask. The only other person I see with us right now is a mermaid smoking a joint. (to the invisible mermaid) Did I arrest you at Gas Works Park before legalization, Miss?
JEREMIAH It's a Mardi Gras mask. (beat) Not yet, he said.
MAROUN What?
JEREMIAH The mask has to do with my next assignment. It's a clue for a future case.
MAROUN We've got to get the first one solved. Don't be an asshole, Shiva.
JEREMIAH (shushes the Acid Cop) He has something very important to tell us.
The men silently await Shiva's message. Rain strikes the exterior window. The sun peeks out behind a cloud in the distance, casting a hazy golden light. Jeremiah bolts up.
JEREMIAH (CONT'D) Are you serious!
EXT. PRIME CUT MEATS - DAY A police cruiser pulls into a run-down strip mall in Seattle. The corner space belongs to Prime Cut Meats, an inauspicious butcher's shop. The office space next to it is vacant. The day is misty. Cascade Mountains in the background. Jeremiah, in a sheriff's deputy uniform, gets out of the cruiser and goes to the door. The sign reads "closed" but the door is unlocked. INT. PRIME CUT MEATS - CONTINUOUS Sharp blades, stainless-steel surfaces, cuts of meats. The shop has a vaguely spooky feel. RANDY MORRIS, a stout, rough-looking butcher and ex-con in his fifties, mops the floor, whistling a tune. He looks up.
MORRIS We're closed, Deputy.
JEREMIAH What happened?
MORRIS Goddamn reefer went out. Cost me thousands of dollars in lost product.
JEREMIAH Is it back online?
MORRIS As of this morning. I'm using the opportunity to clean the establishment, top to bottom.
Jeremiah spots an open can of beer on a nearby table.
MORRIS (CONT'D) I'm drinking early. Still legal in this country, isn't it?
JEREMIAH I'm not here about that.
MORRIS What are you here about then, Deputy?
JEREMIAH A woman and her two kids, ages 11 and 8, went missing from White Center a week ago.
Morris chuckles.
JEREMIAH (CONT'D) What's so funny?
MORRIS The town is called White Center. They're Mexicans, aren't they?
JEREMIAH They are a Mexican family, yes.
MORRIS Maybe they didn't belong in White Center. (beat) I'm sorry, Deputy Black, does that joke offend you?
JEREMIAH What do you think?
MORRIS I don't know, but I am curious why you would be asking me about a Mexican family over in White Center.
JEREMIAH Your shop's been closed.
MORRIS My reefer broke. (beat) Wait a minute. You don't think the Mexicans are in my shop, do you?
JEREMIAH The victim shopped here. Natalia Vargas. We found receipts.
MORRIS I'm sure she came for the prices. You questioning the cashier at Dollar Tree too?
JEREMIAH I'm just asking around. A family is in danger.
Morris grunts dismissively.
JEREMIAH (CONT'D) Is your nephew Cole around today, Mr. Morris?
MORRIS He's cleaning up in the back. Want to talk to him? You can check out my place in the process. Set your mind at ease, Deputy.
JEREMIAH Sure.
INT. EMPLOYEE BREAK ROOM - CONTINUOUS
A small break room with a flatscreen TV and a block of lockers. One of the lockers has a padlock.
COLE MORRIS, a grimy burnout in his thirties with a sleeve of sinister tattoos on his arms is scrubbing the underside of a table. He wears overalls. An open beer rests nearby.MORRIS Hey Cole. The cops are here.
Cole hops up. He looks twitchy and nervous.
JEREMIAH Getting under the tables. That's some serious cleaning.
COLE We're food service, man. The place has to be spotless.
MORRIS Deputy Black here is asking about that Mexican family who went missing. Out of White Center.
COLE I don't know anything about a Mexican family. I don't watch the Seattle news. Too depressing.
JEREMIAH Well, the victim's name is Natalia Vargas. She has an eleven-year old son, Carlos, and an eight-year old daughter, Paola. They've come into the shop before. Ring any bells?
COLE A lot of people come in.
JEREMIAH (pulls up a picture of NATALIA, the mom, on his phone) Here's a picture. Does this help?
COLE No sir. We get a lot of Mexicans.
MORRIS Ain't that the truth.
JEREMIAH What's with your eyes, Cole?
COLE My eyes?
JEREMIAH They're dilated.
MORRIS You want to piss test him or something? Should I get a coffee cup?
COLE Yeah, Deputy, I'm clean, besides the beer. I can give you my P.O.'s number. She'll tell you.
MORRIS Anything else you need to see, Deputy?
Jeremiah has what appears to be an LSD flashback. The front of the locked metal locker melts away.
JEREMIAH I'd love to see what's in that locker over there.
Alarm briefly registers on Cole's face.
COLE No disrespect, but don't you need a warrant for that?
MORRIS Yeah. Where's your warrant?
JEREMIAH Am I going to find something?
COLE I haven't used since I was locked up at Coyote Ridge.
MORRIS He hasn't used since Coyote Ridge.
JEREMIAH I'm not looking for drugs.
MORRIS What are you looking for?
JEREMIAH (strangely, as if in the throes of a vision) A teddy bear.
This is too much for Cole, who draws a pistol from his overalls and fires. Jeremiah anticipates, sidesteps, and goes for his weapon. Morris jumps on his back and the two men wrestle over Jeremiah's gun, crashing around the break room. Cole dashes out the door. Jeremiah's service weapon falls to the floor. It gets kicked under a rolling mop bucket in the corner, out of sight. Morris claws at Jeremiah's face,his powerful fingers going for Jeremiah's eyes to gouge them out. Jeremiah manages to force Morris's head into an open locker. He slams the locker closed repeatedly,warping the metal around Morris's skull. Jeremiah staggers free, steps away, and briefly scans the room for his gun. No sign of it. Morris recovers and emerges from the dented locker. He charges, a carving knife raised over his head. Jeremiah lifts the flatscreen TV and bashes Morris with it. Morris goes down. Jeremiah stomps his chest, hard. Morris wheezes. Jeremiah slaps handcuffs on Morris's left wrist and drags him to the door. For lack of a better option, Jeremiah secures the man to the break room's doorknob. Morris recovers again. He grabs Jeremiah by the throat and squirms past, into the hallway. He traps Jeremiah's head in the closing door, creating an excruciating vise effect. Morris uses his foot for leverage against the wall, really bearing down. Morris produces a small paring knife. The blade closes in on Jeremiah's eye. We get the sense that Morris relishes the thought of blinding a cop. Jeremiah gets enough leverage to pull the door open and get his head free. The door slams shut. Jeremiah presses his weight against it to keep Morris out. Jeremiah goes for his radio.
JEREMIAH (CONT'D) (on radio) Dispatch, this is Unit 16. Shots fired at Prime Cut Meats at 4141 Dairy. Officer in danger. Requesting emergency backup. Over.
MORRIS (to Cole, through the door) Cole, get the fuck over here!
DISPATCH (on radio) Copy that. Officers enroute.
JEREMIAH Two suspects. Randy Morris, Caucasian male. Early fifties. Cole Morris...
Cole and Morris are forcing the door open. A gunshot. A bullet hole materializes next to Jeremiah's head. Jeremiah lets up on the door. As the two men spill in, Jeremiah forces the door closed again, smashing them both in the door jamb. A tangle of intertwined, grunting bodies. Cole fires another shot, seemingly at random. Cole and Morris fight their way back in the room, ready to finish off the cop, unlock the handcuffs, and flee. Jeremiah grabs the mop bucket and jams it on top of Cole's head. Dirty water spills everywhere. Jeremiah boots him across the small break room. Morris is slashing at him with the paring knife. Jeremiah has his nightstick out and is taking blows, doing his best to fend off the blade. Jeremiah spots his gun on the linoleum, retrieves it, and shoots Morris dead at close range. Cole is back up, ready to fire. Jeremiah unloads on him. Cole goes down. INT. EMPLOYEE BREAK ROOM - LATER Police on the scene. The bodies have been covered. A UNIFORMED OFFICER with a pair of bolt cutters snaps the padlock. There is a teddy bear inside. EXT. PRIME CUT MEATS - CONTINUOUS Jeremiah sits in the back of an ambulance, getting treatment from a PARAMEDIC. The rain has let up. A PLAINCLOTHES DETECTIVE approaches.
PLAINCLOTHES DETECTIVE Deputy Black.
Jeremiah looks up, keeping his silence.
PLAINCLOTHES DETECTIVE (CONT'D) Ok, Deputy. We found property belonging to victims on the premises. No sign of the family, however.
JEREMIAH They did it here. That's why they were cleaning so much.
PLAINCLOTHES DETECTIVE It's possible, but there could be more to the story, Deputy. We just don't know yet. We've got good addresses for both suspects...
The detective's voice trails off as tears form in Jeremiah's eye. He knows it’s too late.
JEREMIAH (exploding with sorrow and rage)Fuck!
Poetry and Art
Poetry and art from the warfighting community.
Choices - Ben Simpson Because my initiation to the ocean was the crystal-clear waters of the Caribbean Because my father was a ship captain Because we moved away Because there comes a time in a young man’s life when he has to choose who he wants to be Because I stopped her on the sidewalk instead of saying nothing and letting her pass Because of the boys Because of the unknown Because of the thrill and the adventure Because it is time Because I’m needed elsewhere Because the boys will be OK without me Because of the next adventure
Uniform - Kalen Otte The armor we carry A plaid shirt, sudsucker suit A garbage bag under The morning Sun Where we fall in line Side by side; colliding Under a single banner Where stars are over blue The growing together Congealing into one mass A single shape with our ragged edges Remnants of scars Our combined message Without a breath or voice Hidden Our uniform
Polka Night - Jeremiah Granden
Polka polka, drunk Nebraska,
The beer is flowing and war just fucked ya.
Polka polka, drunk Nebraska,
His gun was loaded and death just caught ya.
Four Second Delay - Adam Karaoguz
The craft await rebirth in nylon webs
Plane’s womb filled with sharp-lined mass
The ramp unseals, transforms to gaping maw
— Noisy sky and azure expanse below
Drogue chute deploys, furling in fickle winds
We stand in unison to perform our benediction
A final check of pins and equipage
At the signal, many tons of finely-honed steel
Loosed upon the elements with a vicious heave
Twin leviathans ripped from their stillness
And we sprint for the opening in pursuit
Diving one by one, into an alien world
One thousand
Face down to the infinite blue
Legs tucked; arms outstretched
Two thousand
Horizon heaves into view
Welcome friend in the maelstrom
Three thousand
Bodies settle to earthbound fall
Gravity asserting dominion at last
Four thousand
Reaching for the ripcord
A supreme act of faith and confidence
Open open open
Good canopy above, such a magnificent sight
Then a chaotic spiral downward
Track your boat — drifting on rivers of air
Find it— follow with singular focus
The ocean looks placid, deceptively so
Until watery impact, sooner than expected
Submerge, slither out of your chute
Sidestroke the rest of the commute
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This ends Volume 24, Edition 1, of the Lethal Minds Journal (01 JULY 2024)
The window is now open for Lethal Minds’ twenty-fourth volume, releasing August 1st, 2024.
All art and picture submissions are due as PDFs or JPEG files to our email by midnight on 20 July 2024.
All written submissions are due in 12-point font, double-spaced, Word documents to our email by midnight on 20 July 2024.
lethalmindsjournal.submissions@gmail.com
Special thanks to the volunteers and team that made this journal possible:
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