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View Full Version : Lets start a thread about Chuck . (Paladin)



Bob Adams
03-08-2012, 08:50 PM
I appreciate Spinner's one year thread, but I feel Chucks contributions here, to his country and to his friends deserves a bit more. What's you favorite Chuck story? (I'll chime in later, I have to ponder if he'd want some of what I would say in the open forum) Go fer it, lets here your stories and Chuckisims!

Mrleft8
03-08-2012, 08:56 PM
Are you kidding!? Are you outta yer mind!? You think I'm gonna tell a "Chuck story"? You're a braver man than I, Bob! He may be dead.... But that doesn't mean he can't still strike back!! ;) :D

Bob Adams
03-08-2012, 09:04 PM
Why do you think I'm pondering overnight?:D With all the crap and trolls in the bilge right now, I thought maybe this would be something we could all get behind.

Concordia...41
03-08-2012, 09:08 PM
Well, his contributions to this friend, if I could be so blessed as to consider myself one, knew no bounds.

From advice, to emails when something shouldn't be said online, to bits and pieces for SARAH, including a radio that will always be part of her, Chuck's generosity knew no bounds.

There hasn't been a week gone by that I haven't come across something that made me think of him.

Just now I was (long story) doing something that made me go back and look at the thread when Dave was loosing his battle with cancer, and there were Chuck's kind words. Along with those of Meerkat, Davd Flemming, Norm Messinger, and so many more. It was too much to read.

There is no doubt, in my mind or heart, that Chuck is with Sweet Thing and all of the pain that he lived with so many years is gone.

Peace friend.

-M

Paul Pless
03-08-2012, 09:18 PM
http://i249.photobucket.com/albums/gg239/PaulPless/chuck.jpg

Paul Pless
03-08-2012, 09:26 PM
Mr. Pless:
I’m not much of a story teller, so I’ll try to keep this short and to the point.
A CAP (Civic Action Program) and CAG (Civic Action Group) are small units assigned to Vietnamese villages to discourage the VC from terrorizing the populace. The VC would enter a village and intimidate or kill the village leader and his family to get the villages cooperation.
The military would routinely assign a half dozen to a dozen men to a village to “protect it” and assist with any village related projects like digging wells or other civil projects. A team might consist of a half dozen marines and/or navy personnel to include a corpsman. The highest ranking person involved might be a specialist or a sergeant. Some people might refer to them as peace corps with rifles, but peaceful it was not generally to be. They had a high rate of casualties.
On or about the 15th of February 1970 a small contingency of VC made a run on a small fishing village named Ninh Ma, with a population of less than 500 persons, and guarded by a 6 man CAP group. Ninh Ma is in the II Corps area just south of the Thuy Hoa mountains, and North of a Korean Firebase, and south of the Thuy Hoa Pass. There is a long stretch of open road in the area that was a favorite spot for ambushes involving supply convoys. During this action two men were injured by small arms fire, but not life threatening. The VC appeared to leave the area after the brief encounter.
On Monday, 19 February, a helicopter was dispatched from a base north of Thuy Hoa with replacement personnel, to deliver them to Ninh Ma, and to pick up the injured men. That morning there was light rain, very light, and did not impede the mission.
The helicopter landed just outside the village, alongside a semi paved road leading from the main highway to the village. As it touched down it was met with a hail of small arms fire, and the CAP group were in an open area.
The helicopter had to immediately withdraw, damaged and with two injured crew in addition to the two injured CAP persons. I was one of the replacements, and was on the ground. We were in a ditch alongside the road unable to move in any direction. The only communications that we had was the standard military backpack radio, that normally had a range of 5-6 miles, but because of the weather it seemed as if no one heard us. Then we lost the corpsman. The small arms fire continued for about 20 minutes. It seemed to slack off, but everytime someone moved it would start again.
And a shadow floated over head, no sound of an engine, and we thought the helicopter was trying to get back in. A silver, unmarked fixed wing aircraft floated down and literally stopped adjacent to our position, a door opened, and a Thai named “Jerry” helped us in, and we were gone in a matter of seconds.
The helicopter had made it to the Korean firebase and a armed convoy was sent, it arrived half an hour after we left.
We were delivered to a Special forces camp, and then the pilot left. We learned that he was nearby, heard the call, and disobeyed orders to get involved. The aircraft received multiple hits, and the pilot (Chuck) did not escape unscathed.


...

George Jung
03-08-2012, 09:44 PM
I hope not; I don't heal as fast as I used to...

I wasn't lucky enough to meet Chuck, but was surprised on a few occassions when he simply offered 'to help'. BTW, there's more than a few like that in the Bilge. Chuck sent my daughter a Russian language program, after I asked for recommendations here. I found I had to be careful what 'help' I was asking for, simply for that reason. I know Chuck gave some pretty generous gifts to others; it was his nature. Best thing he gave me (and best I get from all) was his friendship and respect, and sense of community here in the Bilge. I think a lot of us with a few miles on us know how rare that is, even in the 'real' world.

George Jung
03-08-2012, 11:42 PM
Having lived among the NA for decades, I was familiar with that, though to be fair, Chuck was the most generous I've ever encountered. You don't have to be native to understand generosity, btw. There's cultural, and there's individual.

Lew Barrett
03-09-2012, 02:10 PM
A Chuck Fantasy, in his writ, previously "unpublished" and presented solely for your entertainment.



Page 1

Time…2002…Late Friday
Scene, late evening, just at dusk. In a marina. Aboard a large sailboat two men are talking in the cockpit. You never see either face. One man is dressed in a uniform of the harbor master/customs service….a former Soviet bloc country. He’s handing the capt of the sailboat his passport and papers and wishing him a pleasant journey. He makes a polite salute and departs the craft.

The capt comes topsides and starts the engine, keeping it in neutral. The hand goes forward and removes all the dock lines and is seen leaving the marina and breakwater and disappearing into the night.

The next scene is in an older, smaller marina with several much older boats around. In the darkness you can barely hear the sound of a small engine approaching. The earlier sailboat appears in the bare light, comes against the breakwater, and ties up to the outside of the pier. The engine is shut down and the capt then sets the forward and aft lines. He then goes below. You see him remove a ring, a bracelet and a wristwatch. He then takes an old watch from the sea chest, sets the time against the navigation clock on the bulkhead, picks up several small plastic bags containing a jell like substance, opens the navigation table drawer and removes a couple pairs of plastic surgical gloves. All these items are placed in his coat pockets. He then removes what appears to be a small pistol from another drawer, a small silencer and a section of pipe.

He then leaves the boat, climbs a small hill past a dinner club in the process of closing, crosses the narrow highway and walks a couple of blocks to the edge of what is obviously a old city with very old buildings. He speaks to a taxi driver in very broken English/Russian to take him to the town square. The arrive 5 minutes later. The man pays, gets out of the cab and starts walking. He walks a couple of blocks to the town square, then turns and goes in another direction for a block, then stops at a street corner, consults a piece of paper for an address, and walks another half block. He finds the building.

He climbs the stairs, crosses the foyer of the building to a door. The name on the door is that of a dentist. There is a small light inside. He knocks, …is told to enter….
Inside is a man about 5’8” tall wearing a dentist’s smock. He’s sitting in a chair behind a large old wooden desk. There is a bottle of vodka on the table and a water glass.

As the man enters the room the doctor speaks “Capitan Einnerson, I presume?”
Yah, says the man…My English not so good…you fix my tooth?
Of course, you can pay with hard currency?
Yah, I pay American dollars…
Very good. Would you like some wodka…I do not have so good anesthetics.
Yah! Tank you…..

Page 2

The dentist rises to get another glass. As he turns away the man reaches inside his coat pocket for the pipe. As the dentist turns, he strikes with a backhanded blow across the dentist’s mouth, causing blood to gush and breaking out several teeth. As the dentist starts to collapse the man grabs him and lays him face down across the desk. He lays down the pipe, removes what appears to be a gun from his pocket, attaches the “silencer” and puts it in the dentists face…the dentist is barely conscious. He is told to be very quiet or he may be forced to kill him….the dentist complies.

The man puts on the surgeons gloves. He then removes the jelly like substance in the plastic bag, which seems to be in two parts. He pulls the bag apart and mixes the contents and pours it into the dentist chair. He then takes a butterfly knife from his pocket, and with a double flip of the wrist opens it exposing a razor sharp blade. …..places it under the dentists belt and cuts it thru causing his pants to fall…he then drops his shorts and drags him backwards and sits him in the chair.

The man then takes half a dozen white pills from his pocket, drops them into a glass and pours in some vodka, dissolving the pills. Hands it to the dentist who is starting to come around. He orders him to drink it. The dentist complies. He starts wiggling in his chair but is told to sit still. He is then handed about two feet of heavy cord and told to tie it around the base of his penis…….the dentist seems alarmed….the gun is placed between his eyes and he complies.

The substance in the chair was fast set epoxy and is starting to harden making sitting still a bit difficult….the combination of the vodka and percocet are starting to take effect and the dentist passes out. The man then pushes the chair back a bit, reaches down with the knife, and cuts the dentist penis off about half way, takes the removed member and drops it into the vodka glass, and pours vodka over it,

The dentist is then pushed up to the desk, another bag of epoxy opened and poured into two pools on top of the desk. The dentists hands are then pressed into the epoxy and held there for about 5 minutes. A small bag is removed from a pocket and the waste bags from the epoxy, the first pair of gloves and the gun, which is really plastic, are placed in the bag. The man then takes the length of pipe and crushes the bones in both hands, fingers and knuckles, of the dentist. He then turns off the lights, and flips the latch on the office door and departs.

He then retraces his steps back to the old marine. He boards the boat placing the pipe and all other used equipment in the plastic bag, plus an old diving weight, pokes some hole s in the bag to be tossed in the water just offshore.

He starts the engine, removes the dock lines, pushing the boat away from the pier, quickly removes the sail covers as he points the boat out into the night .

John of Phoenix
03-09-2012, 02:59 PM
Lew, I gather you have more. What's the plan?

Lew Barrett
03-09-2012, 03:30 PM
PM sent, John.

Bob Adams
03-09-2012, 04:03 PM
This is what Iwas hoping for....keep it coming Lew!

Lew Barrett
03-09-2012, 07:32 PM
We are on the installment plan; there is some editing yet to be done.

Tar Devil
03-10-2012, 01:43 AM
http://i240.photobucket.com/albums/ff298/TarDevil/Paladin.jpg

Bob Adams
03-10-2012, 11:13 AM
http://forum.woodenboat.com/images/misc/quote_icon.png Originally Posted by Vince Brennan http://forum.woodenboat.com/images/buttons/viewpost-right.png (http://forum.woodenboat.com/showthread.php?p=3337459#post3337459)
Unless Chase is referring to an actual ceremony slated to take place near him, those of us who were Friends Of Chuck or who may have known him personally will be remembering his passing.

I will be standing by to render honours at 0310122100Z.

I don't know what Chase has in mind, but at the appointed time, I will stop all activities and spend a few minutes thinking about my friend.

Lew Barrett
03-10-2012, 12:40 PM
Here's some more. Apologies if there are any annoying typos or misspellings. They are not mine. I am honestly unsure how far to go with this, but surely a bit of posthumous posting is in order today.

__________________________________________________ ________________________________

I was in the harbor at Reykjavik, sitting on a inverted bucket with a sketchpad, drawing boats.....this absolutely stunningly beautiful lady walks by, nearly half my age and starts looking over my shoulder at the drawings.....she spoke to me in fair Icelandic.....I responded in kind.....
Over the next few days she came by a few times to see what I was drawing, so I finally asked her for coffee, then to lunch. Her reason for walking that particular path was because it was near the Russian Embassy.....we eventually ended up at an apartment that I kept in Reykjavik.......and where one day she discovered that I was American. Then one day she disappeared....for a few months I never knew what happened.....then I ran into a friend of hers, Natasha, who told me she had been sent home because they thought I was a spy since I worked at the NATO base....I went looking for her....found her in Odessa....and a week later we were at the boat at the yacht club where I asked her to marry me....and we were together until she passed away.....22 years.
__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ __




Rewind back to late Spring, 1977, Hafnjarfordur Iceland. Few people are out and about, decent looking fellow, about 6’3” tall, 260 pounds, dressed in faded levi’s, wool socks and deck shoes, and wearing a cable knit Icelandic wool sweater is sitting about half way between the road and the waters edge at the fishing boat harbor. He’s sitting on an inverted wooden bucket holding a large sketch type watercolor pad, and has a large thermos next to him with hot coffee. The scene that he’s working on is about half finished. He doesn’t notice the lady approaching from slightly behind him. Suddenly he
Page 4
see’s a shadow fall across his tablet and he looks up, and see’s an angel standing there. A young lady, very beautiful, long silky black hair, the most beautiful eyes and just the slightest hint of make up on her face, and the rest of her was nice also. She was perhaps 5’6” tall and everything she wore fit perfectly in all the right places.

She was looking at the picture in my lap and in most proper Icelandic said “Gothan dyan” and I smiled and said “Goin dine” the same response but in a more casual tone. She’s looking at the signature on the bottom of the drawing and asks “Kwa Haiti thu, Kalli” and I just remark “Ja, Kalli” then I ask her name and she responds “Irina”…..
Irina was a secretary at the Russian Embassy. She took these walks daily for exercise and rarely engaged in parties with locals. Her salary was such that she could not afford it, so most of her money went home to her mother to take care of a very young son. She would show up on the beach 2-3 times a week, look to see if I was around, and while she stumbled thru Icelandic, I stumbled thru it with her. One day she asked if I knew American words…I said I know some, what do you need. She was trying to translate a poster inviting the local community to dinner party and dance. I asked her if she wanted to go. She said she could not, that she did not have a party dress. The next day we met and I asked her to go to my apartment with me, just on the other side of the highway. She agreed to go for coffee……..and she stayed for dinner. The lady downstairs was a seamstress and I had picked out a dress that I really liked and asked her to make it fit Irina. It was quite a surprise. She was embarrassed, but I convinced her she would have fun. The dress fit like it was tailor made for her….all the guys were whistling and she held on to my arm, very tightly all night. It was the wee hours of the morning before we got home. I fully expected her to panic and head for the embassy compound, so I thought she was changing. I peeled off and headed for the showers, and a couple of minutes later another body slid in with me…….I have no idea how much water one of those tanks will hold, but it ran a long time. I was 37 years old, and she was 21….and it made no difference.
Things became more comfortable after that. She sent almost all her money home, but she was now staying full time at my apartment. I had two very small bedrooms, a small kitchen/dining room, a small living room with double French doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the harbor, The garage was barely enough for me to get a 73 super beatle inside. I taught her to drive. One day she asked if she could drive the car with some girlfriends to Thingvellir, inside the country. It was a popular tourist spot and the beginning of the Icelandic Court systems. I had her to drop me off at the front gate to the NATO base and told her I would find my own way home, do not worry. When she arrived home that night there was a 1932 Essex in the driveway, my “other car”. This may be about the time that she started paying closer attention to her surroundings. People did not use 2 way radio systems in Iceland in those days…But I lived with one, and she noticed that when certain problems occurred I would get a call to come to work, so she started asking questions. Up to this time she thought I was an Icelander, working on base learning pretty good English, now she knew better. She was comfortable, living better, liked where she was, but a little scared I think and then in the middle of all of it blurted out that she was pregnant. I couldn’t have been happier. I grabbed her and held her close, kissed her cheek and neck and then asked if she wanted to get married. She looked at me
with tears in her eyes and said yes. I told her I would buy the ring on base the next day. The next morning she was up and made a nice breakfast, we talked and joked about where to have the wedding and how many friends and from where. I left the VW for her to use and drove the Essex to the base. I picked out a very nice ring. The exchange had the ring for 2 years with no sales….I took it home. The stone was a 2.75 carat blue white diamond and it sparkled.
When I arrived home the VW wasn’t there. I called her office, no one knew anything. Next day I went to the embassy and spoke with the second in command and got absolutely no information, except a VW had been left in the parking area and the front desk had the key. Nothing, not a word or note. I wrote a letter to her home address, returned no one there….all of her clothing etc from the house was gone. And for the next 4 months that’s all I learned.

skipper68
03-10-2012, 06:42 PM
Thank you all. I only had a while to enjoy his glowing light, but knew he was very special. Hoping he is looking down and enjoying all the wonderful tributes to him. The forum hasn't been the same since he passed. :(