As a Marine corporal with two stripes, I never could have imagined having a daughter wearing two silver bars as an Army Captain. But truth is stranger than fiction.
I had been to Fort Hood to visit her on two previous occasions. But it has been a tough autumn there, and as Kara has a Christmas birthday and I was already tired of the Wisconsin winter, it was time to head south for a spell.
But first, some minor details needed attending. I had put up a snow fence along the west side of the farm lane. The fence fastens to the west side of the posts so that the prevailing westerly winds would blow the fence against the posts. But since the recent storms were from the east, the howling winds had snapped some of the plastic tie strips.
Fighting the strong east wind, son Johnny held the fence against the posts as I refastened it. There is something oddly refreshing about a howling wind driving snow against your face, that is as long as you are not too far from shelter. No pesky mosquitoes, for one thing. Perhaps that's the origin of the expression, "pure as the driven snow."
Snow fence mended, we tossed our bags and emergency cold weather gear into my GMC and headed south, missing that local pre-Christmas ice storm by about two hours. Down through central Illinois - temp in the low 30s with gray skies, roads wet but not slippery - we rolled over the drab gray and white landscape. Hot coffee and a warm cab provide a comfortable contrast to the gray chill outside.
Darkness sets in early on these short, cloudy early winter days. The giant arch, landmark of St. Louis, beckoned as we crossed the Mississippi. We gassed up and caught a snack at a fast food joint. We didn't bring our stomach pumps along, but didn't need them as the snack tasted OK - actually rather good, I have to admit.
We pushed into central Missouri. The temperature under cloudy skies had risen to the low 50s, believe it or not. At a rest stop some folks were strolling about in short sleeves in the misty darkness. Sort of reminded me of some of Monroe's teenagers wandering around in shorts in mid-winter. Are they tougher - or just dumber - than we were as teenagers? A few miles later, we caught a motel for the night.
With the temperature in the 50s and Kara phoning us that Texas had been in the upper 60s, we were under the illusion that we had it made. We would be at Belton, Texas, adjacent to Fort Hood, with Kara on Christmas Eve.
Next morning, weather still cloudy and gray, we caught breakfast at a Waffle House and pushed on. We passed nearby Fort Leonard Wood where so many soldiers from this neck of the woods got their initiation into Army life. As a teenager weighing my options, I opted out of Fort Leonard Wood. Marine Boot Camp was no cakewalk, but I'll take the southern California weather any day - even if the east coast Marines who went through Boot Camp at Parris Island, South Carolina tag us as "Hollywood Marines." Contrary to myth perpetuated by those envious Parris Island Marines, we "Hollywood Marines" were not issued sunglasses upon our arrival at San Diego.
As we passed through the colorless terrain adjacent to Fort Leonard Wood, I tried to imagine what it must be like going through basic training in this drab weather at that miserable looking place. I've got nothing against the great state of Missouri, and nothing against the Army - with a daughter as an Army Captain, how could I? But based on my windshield survey I concluded that the Army can have that featureless piece of real estate.
As we got close to the edge of Missouri and the southeast corner of Kansas, retracing the storied Route 66, the temperature fell to the lower 40s, then to the upper 30s. The slate gray skies looked ominous. I didn't like the looks of that.
Sure enough, in northeastern Oklahoma, the temp dropped to just above freezing and the flurries started. The radio rendered a blizzard warning for Northeastern Oklahoma. To the west of us, Tulsa was already getting hit. If we stopped, we would be trapped for who knows how long. As the roads were wet but not yet slippery, we pushed on.
Down through east central Oklahoma, the flurries continued as we rolled through the gray, dreary landscape, the drabness broken up only by colorful Christmas lights in the small Oklahoma towns. It was clear that we were on the eastern edge of a devastating blizzard. If we pushed on, perhaps we would pass it, and still make Fort Hood late tonight.
The temp dropped to just below freezing, but the roads were not yet slippery. Darkness came early, the flurries continued, and we pushed on. Our luck held until southeastern Oklahoma where accumulated snow started to make the roads slippery. Progress was slow, but we wanted to at least get into Texas.
We crossed the Red River into Texas well after dark. The snow diminished - we had escaped the blizzard, but not the slippery roads and fierce cold wind. Jack, time to pack it in. Even as we checked into a motel north of Dallas, cars were sliding into the median. Days Inn is not how we had planned to spend Christmas Eve, but far better that than to find yourself in a ditch like so many of the hapless saps that suffered that fate.
Fort Hood and daughter Kara would have to wait for another day.
To be continued.
- Monroe Resident John Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
I had been to Fort Hood to visit her on two previous occasions. But it has been a tough autumn there, and as Kara has a Christmas birthday and I was already tired of the Wisconsin winter, it was time to head south for a spell.
But first, some minor details needed attending. I had put up a snow fence along the west side of the farm lane. The fence fastens to the west side of the posts so that the prevailing westerly winds would blow the fence against the posts. But since the recent storms were from the east, the howling winds had snapped some of the plastic tie strips.
Fighting the strong east wind, son Johnny held the fence against the posts as I refastened it. There is something oddly refreshing about a howling wind driving snow against your face, that is as long as you are not too far from shelter. No pesky mosquitoes, for one thing. Perhaps that's the origin of the expression, "pure as the driven snow."
Snow fence mended, we tossed our bags and emergency cold weather gear into my GMC and headed south, missing that local pre-Christmas ice storm by about two hours. Down through central Illinois - temp in the low 30s with gray skies, roads wet but not slippery - we rolled over the drab gray and white landscape. Hot coffee and a warm cab provide a comfortable contrast to the gray chill outside.
Darkness sets in early on these short, cloudy early winter days. The giant arch, landmark of St. Louis, beckoned as we crossed the Mississippi. We gassed up and caught a snack at a fast food joint. We didn't bring our stomach pumps along, but didn't need them as the snack tasted OK - actually rather good, I have to admit.
We pushed into central Missouri. The temperature under cloudy skies had risen to the low 50s, believe it or not. At a rest stop some folks were strolling about in short sleeves in the misty darkness. Sort of reminded me of some of Monroe's teenagers wandering around in shorts in mid-winter. Are they tougher - or just dumber - than we were as teenagers? A few miles later, we caught a motel for the night.
With the temperature in the 50s and Kara phoning us that Texas had been in the upper 60s, we were under the illusion that we had it made. We would be at Belton, Texas, adjacent to Fort Hood, with Kara on Christmas Eve.
Next morning, weather still cloudy and gray, we caught breakfast at a Waffle House and pushed on. We passed nearby Fort Leonard Wood where so many soldiers from this neck of the woods got their initiation into Army life. As a teenager weighing my options, I opted out of Fort Leonard Wood. Marine Boot Camp was no cakewalk, but I'll take the southern California weather any day - even if the east coast Marines who went through Boot Camp at Parris Island, South Carolina tag us as "Hollywood Marines." Contrary to myth perpetuated by those envious Parris Island Marines, we "Hollywood Marines" were not issued sunglasses upon our arrival at San Diego.
As we passed through the colorless terrain adjacent to Fort Leonard Wood, I tried to imagine what it must be like going through basic training in this drab weather at that miserable looking place. I've got nothing against the great state of Missouri, and nothing against the Army - with a daughter as an Army Captain, how could I? But based on my windshield survey I concluded that the Army can have that featureless piece of real estate.
As we got close to the edge of Missouri and the southeast corner of Kansas, retracing the storied Route 66, the temperature fell to the lower 40s, then to the upper 30s. The slate gray skies looked ominous. I didn't like the looks of that.
Sure enough, in northeastern Oklahoma, the temp dropped to just above freezing and the flurries started. The radio rendered a blizzard warning for Northeastern Oklahoma. To the west of us, Tulsa was already getting hit. If we stopped, we would be trapped for who knows how long. As the roads were wet but not yet slippery, we pushed on.
Down through east central Oklahoma, the flurries continued as we rolled through the gray, dreary landscape, the drabness broken up only by colorful Christmas lights in the small Oklahoma towns. It was clear that we were on the eastern edge of a devastating blizzard. If we pushed on, perhaps we would pass it, and still make Fort Hood late tonight.
The temp dropped to just below freezing, but the roads were not yet slippery. Darkness came early, the flurries continued, and we pushed on. Our luck held until southeastern Oklahoma where accumulated snow started to make the roads slippery. Progress was slow, but we wanted to at least get into Texas.
We crossed the Red River into Texas well after dark. The snow diminished - we had escaped the blizzard, but not the slippery roads and fierce cold wind. Jack, time to pack it in. Even as we checked into a motel north of Dallas, cars were sliding into the median. Days Inn is not how we had planned to spend Christmas Eve, but far better that than to find yourself in a ditch like so many of the hapless saps that suffered that fate.
Fort Hood and daughter Kara would have to wait for another day.
To be continued.
- Monroe Resident John Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
