The port of Brest was a critical objective for the Allied forces fighting in France after D-Day. To break out of their relatively small portion of France, the Allied liberators needed 37 divisions by September 1944, along with the 26,000 tons of materiel to supply them. To make this happen, they needed Brest and its port.
Given its importance, it's surprising that the Battle for Brest is often overshadowed in D-Day history. Admittedly, a lot was happening at the same time. Allied forces surrounded and destroyed German defenders in Normandy. Gen. George S. Patton began his fast-paced thrust across the country, and Allied soldiers were bogged down in hedgerow country.
Even with all that in mind, however, the Allies could not maintain those gains and their foothold in Nazi-occupied Europe with the port of Brest. 75,000 Allied troops began an assault on the heavily-defended city on August 7, 1944, despite the heroism of men like U.S. Army Sgt. John McVeigh, they wouldn't push the Germans out until nearly the end of September.
The fight for Brest was one of the most brutal battles of the European war and for good reason. Not only was the city vital to the success of the Allied invasion, but when the Allies reached the city in August, they had it completely cut off from the rest of the German Army. The defenders inside had nowhere to retreat, so they dug in. Brest became a fight for survival for the enemy's 45,000 troops.
Sgt. John J. McVeigh had been drafted into the Army in 1944 while working as a rust proofer. He was promoted to sergeant and was in charge of a platoon of riflemen and heavy machine guns during Operation Cobra; the Allied thrust into Brittany. His men were setting up a defensive position near a hedge to hold their recent gains, but the enemy had other plans.
The Germans launched a counterattack to push the Americans back, which was excellent timing for the Germans and disastrous for McVeigh's platoon. The heavy guns hadn't had time to set up yet, and they had no support from his riflemen. The line began to sag under intense pressure from German small arms, machine guns, and even anti-aircraft flak guns.
As the Germans approached and were nearly on top of his machine gunners, 22-year-old Sgt. McVeigh stood up in full view of the enemy and began unloading his M1 Garand rifle. He ordered his men to do the same. Despite his effort to lay down fire and protect his machine gunners, the rounds from his rifle weren't enough to deter the onslaught of the enemy counterattack.
And they came charging at him.
With his position now in danger of being overrun and out of ammunition for his rifle, Sgt. McVeigh pulled his trench knife, the only weapon he had left, and charged at the oncoming Germans. He killed the first enemy soldier with his knife and charged toward the other three, but he never made it. He was dead, shot at point-blank range. But his heroic charge bought time for the rest of his men to reload and concentrate their fire, killing the three Germans McVeigh attacked and allowing the machine guns time to finish setting up.
When the guns started firing, the Germans were pushed back; their counteroffensive stalled, thanks to the efforts of one man, his knife, and the NCO's determination to protect his men.
The enemy would hold Brest until September 18, 1944, but by then, Paris had been liberated, and the Germans had been pushed all the way back close to their own border. Sgt. John McVeigh would receive a posthumous Medal of Honor in 1945 for the valiant defense of his men during the battle.
During the War of 1812, the young United States was still asserting its independence from Britain despite its earlier military victories in both the Revolution and the Barbary War. In 1813, Americans captured and burned the capital of Upper Canada, the city of York (modern-day Toronto). It was a tactical victory but did little to win the war - and it would cost them in a big way.
The British would finally bring a significant force to bear against the Americans, and a combination of miscalculation and inexperienced command would result in the burning of the nation's capital. The only silver lining was 500 Marines who kept them at bay long enough for the U.S. government to escape.
For two years, the British Army and Royal Navy were focused on defeating Napoleon in Europe. They didn't have the resources to dedicate themselves to fully execute a war in North America. They simply didn't have the manpower or material to avenge defeats like the one at York. In 1814, however, the French Emperor and his Grande Armée were beaten, and Napoleon was sent into exile.
With this new influx of hardened veterans fresh from defeating Napoleonic France, the British decided to use them to finally implement an over strategy against the Americans. They wanted to control New England in the north while capturing New Orleans to split the Americans in two.
Their next move would be to raid the U.S. Atlantic coast, sapping citizen morale for the war. Knowing British ships were on the way, American war planners believed their target would be Baltimore, a commercial center that seemed ripe for plunder. While Washington, D.C. might have been the capital, attacking it would give the invaders little strategic advantage.
The British would attack both cities eventually, but a joint force of soldiers, sailors, and Marines would make a stand at Bladensburg, Maryland, to try and prevent the British from capturing Washington.
The Royal Navy approached the U.S. with four ships of the line, twenty frigates and sloops of war, and twenty transports with the goal of first destroying the U.S. Chesapeake Bay Flotilla. Under Commodore Joshua Barney's command, the flotilla destroyed its own gunboats and marched to Bladensburg, the key to defending Baltimore and (especially) Washington.
Brig. Gen. William Winder was in command at Bladensburg, and defending the capital was his first goal. He had 6,500 men at his command, but most were not professional soldiers; they were mostly militiamen going up against the 4.500 Redcoats who just defeated Napoleon's Imperial Guard.
He organized his forces in three lines to block the road to Washington, with Barney's sailors and Marines in the third line. In their haste to cross the Anacostia, they left the bridge crossing intact. Moreover, the lines of infantry were spaced too far apart to support each other.
The British crossed the bridge and attacked just after noon on August 24, 1814. President James Madison was on the battlefield and was still there when the British assault began. Despite not fully being prepared, he attacked the Americans right away. His light brigades hadn't even arrived yet.
Their assault went off like clockwork. In the face of heavy rifle and artillery fire, they put enormous pressure on the Americans. U.S. skirmishers and artillery crews started to fall back in the face of the assault. The left flank of the line became enveloped and broke, causing the American militia to flee. Meanwhile, the U.S. government was hurriedly packing its things to do the same.
British reinforcements began to arrive, and although the Americans stopped to regroup and fight again, the sight of more and more Redcoats was overwhelming. Winder ordered a retreat, but Commodore Barney didn't get that order. His sailors and Marines had their own guns and were on the high ground, so British troops assaulted their position.
The Marines didn't break; they charged the British charge and fired grapeshot into the attackers. Not only did they hold their ground, but they also pushed the Redcoat tide back. Had there not been another brigade of reinforcements, the Marines might have won the day.
Their spirited two-hour stand at Bladensburg bought the government time to evacuate the capital before the British arrived and burned most of the government buildings.
It's said that because of the Marines' outnumbered fight against a veteran enemy, the Marine Corps Commandants' Home and Marine Barracks Washington at 8th & I were spared from the torch when the British burned Washington.
Great bonding place and meeting past and present Marines, and developing new friendships. You can't do this anywhere else. And not to mention finding past brothers and sisters. It's a great tool.
GySgt Terrence D'Alesandro, US Marine Corps (Ret)
Served 1989-2014
At the end of almost every July 4th fireworks show, there's a grand finale. Many times, that finale of explosions is accompanied by a stirring rendition of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture." It seems a natural fit for independence day: a rousing theme that ends with a volley of cannon fire and chiming bells.
The only problem is that the theme, though based on a war, has nothing to do with the United States and certainly nothing to do with the War of 1812. The only thing the U.S. has in common with the song is that Russia and the United States were both at war in 1812, though not with each other.
Tchaikovsky debuted what is probably his most famous work In Moscow in August 1882. The overture was meant to commemorate the 70th anniversary of Russia's victory over Napoleon's invasion in 1812. The French emperor invaded Russia at the head of more than half a million men.
At Borodino, some 75 miles west of Moscow, Napoleon met Russian Gen. Mikhail Kutuzov. When the smoke cleared, an estimated 100,000 men were killed or wounded. The French won the battle, but Napoleon's victory was hard won. His supply lines were overextended, and the battle had given time for the Russians to burn Moscow and take everything of value.
Napoleon was eventually forced to retreat in the dead of winter. He could not feed or properly clothe his massive army, and as they made the long walk back to France, Russian cossacks harassed them the entire way. By the time they left Russia, only 10,000 men were still alive.
In the song, as in real life, France loses the war. The French national anthem, "La Marseillaise," can be heard prominently during the 13-minute overture. It's soon drowned out under cannon fire and the melody of "God Save the Tsar."
Napoleon's ultimate defeat after his retreat from Moscow did have an effect on the Americans during the War of 1812. With the French defeated, Britain could move its best troops from European battlefields to North America, where they would inflict stunning defeats on the Americans, including the burning of Washington, D.C.
I enjoyed recalling my service and years in the CG. This is a great app for veterans to connect with crewmates.
MKFN John Beare, US Coast Guard Veteran
Served 1986-1990
Serving in the military has several features. These include solid training, leadership opportunities, and competitive compensation. Generally less recognized are the various monetary benefits from the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs for those who served honorably. These are earned benefits, not entitlements. Veterans should be aware of these benefits, how they can be accessed, and, most importantly, how they can be used to improve post-service life.
The most used benefits include:
• Disability compensation – a tax-free monthly payment based on an injury or disability that occurred while in service. This can be used to offset lost income or expenses.
• GI Bill – provides education support. Serve for three years and earn four years of free college. It can also be used for high-tech apprenticeships, advanced Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math training, and credentials and certificates. Time limitations on when this benefit can be used have been removed.
• No money down home loan guaranty – Veterans can purchase a home with no money down. This is a tremendous advantage over our civilian counterparts, who must save for a down payment prior to purchasing a home. Subject to restrictions, this can be used to purchase a mobile home or farm residence.
Other benefits are:
Veterans Readiness and Employment – counselors are assigned to identify Veteran's interests and needed training to find stable employment. The identified training is provided through this benefit.
Pension – a means-tested payment for eligible Veterans. This can help Veterans who are heading toward or who are homeless.
Fiduciary – under certain conditions, a Fiduciary will be appointed to manage the Veteran's financial affairs.
Insurance – VA administers several insurance programs that might be attractive to certain Veterans who cannot purchase similar commercial insurance. This includes Life and Mortgage insurance.
Importantly, if you are not satisfied with a decision about your benefits, there is a new, faster appeal process to have any decision reviewed. If you believe you were improperly denied a benefit or received too low an amount, an appeal may be appropriated.
I often receive these comments and questions when discussing benefits with Veterans and their families:
1. I'm fine and don't need these.
That may be true when you leave service, but over time "things get worse." Many conditions that came up in service may become problematic later – for example, hearing or back conditions worsening. It's better to identify these conditions earlier, while you have the needed documentation, than later when searching for misplaced or lost records is harder and more urgent.
2. Other Veterans are worse off and need the money more than me.
This may be true, but the money for VA benefits is what is called "mandatory spending." Congress must provide these funds. Money for one Veteran's benefits does not come at the expense of another Veteran's benefits. In this situation, Congress must provide for both.
3. I have been out for many years. Is it too late to apply for benefits?
No. It's never too late. Even if you don't have your service records, VA will assist you in finding these and other documentation. In addition, there is no penalty for coming back repeatedly to review the appropriateness of your benefits. A good rule of thumb is to review your benefits every three to five years, as conditions generally worsen as we age.
4. I've heard the process is complicated. Who can help me?
Service officers are trained and often accredited by VA to help Veterans access their benefits. No-cost help from service officers can be obtained from Veterans Service Organizations such as The American Legion, Disabled American Veterans (DAV), Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW), and Wounded Warrior Project (WWP). States, through their Departments of Veteran Affairs or Services, also provide no-cost assistance from their service officers. Depending on the state, counties may also have service officers to help Veterans.
5. How can I find out more?
Learn about your benefits by visiting VA.gov or by picking up a copy of my book.
Paul R. Lawrence, Ph.D., served as Under Secretary of Benefits at the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs from May 2018 to January 2021. He is the author of "Veterans Benefits for You: Get what You Deserve," available from Amazon.
It's hard to know which scenario is more bizarre: NASA having fighter pilots, NASA bullying naval aviators, or the Navy actually admitting to being bullied by those fighter pilots so they'd stop. All three really happened – and it started when the Navy wanted to replace its vaunted F-8 Crusader air superiority fighter.
Vought's award-winning F-8 Crusader was one of the longest-serving airframes in American military history, so replacing it was going to be tough for anyone who tried. It was the last fighter to use mounted guns as a primary weapon, it had a top speed of Mach 1.8, and it claimed the best kill ratio of any American aircraft during the Vietnam War.
Two competitors were vying to give the Navy its carrier-based fighter. The first was McDonnell Douglas' F-4 Phantom II (which would ultimately become the fighter for the Navy, Marine Corps, and Air Force), and Vought's XF-8U Crusader III. It was a difficult but important choice to make. One of these would become the plane that would intercept incoming Soviet bombers before they reached Navy fleets.
A lot has been said and written about the F-4 Phantom II, which would serve not only in Vietnam but also through Desert Storm. A lot less has been written about the Crusader III, which was actually the heavy favorite to replace the original F-8 Crusader. The new XF8U-3 was larger and more powerful. Some would even say the best supersonic fighter ever made.
It was appreciably faster than the F-4 Phantom II, and featured excellent maneuverability, acceleration, and stability. It was, in many ways, superior to the Phantom but was ultimately not selected for a few important reasons. The first is that it tended to go into a compressor stall at high Mach speeds. It also had a long takeoff time without an afterburner, and it could only carry three Sparrow missiles (missiles were the primary weapons of fighters), instead of the requisite four.
Vought argued that, despite these drawbacks, the new Crusader was smaller and lighter than the F-4 and would be easier for pilots to transition from the old Crusader to the new one. The Navy authorized five prototypes of the Crusader III in 1955, and by 1958, it was ready for a demonstration flight.
In practice, the pilot of the Crusader III was a lone seater, which meant he had to keep flying the plane while painting a target for its Sparrow missiles, which proved to be a difficult task for many. Meanwhile, the F-4 had a pilot and a Radar Intercept Officer for using the radar system. Adding in the fact that the F-4 would be capable of hitting targets on the ground while the Crusader was an air superiority fighter only and the choice became clear.
In December 1958, the Navy announced the selection of the Phantom as its next carrier-based fighter, for better or for worse. Many veteran pilots of the U.S. military are happy to share their thoughts about the Phantom – good and bad alike – if you ask them.
The five Crusader III aircraft were sent to NASA because of its ability to fly above 95% of the earth's atmosphere. They were converted to research planes.
In his 1990 book “MiG Master,” author Barrett Tillman writes that the Crusader III got the last laugh against the Navy and its F-4 Phantoms in the skies above Naval Air Station Patuxent River. NASA pilots started intercepting Navy F-4s and embarrassing them in mock dogfights, causing the Navy to complain to the military top brass. The Pentagon had to request that NASA stop the harassment officially.
Reprinted with permission from We Are The Mighty.
There's an old story that made its way around back in the brown-shoe Air Corps when most airplanes were propeller-driven, and there was no inertial guidance system to tell the pilot where he was. According to the post-WWII air jockeys, a grizzled old pilot found he had a new, fuzzy-cheeked navigator fresh out of flight training. Quick to let the new arrival know the 'pecking order,' he placed his .45 on the aircraft console when they entered the plane for their pre-flight check. His curiosity aroused, and the neophyte navigator asked why he did that, to which the crusty old veteran replied, "I used that on the last navigator who got me lost."
"Oh…Okay, sir," replied the new crewmember as he opened the latch on his map case, removed his own .45, and put it on his desk.
"And what's that for, Junior?" thundered the plane commander.
"Well, Sir, if we get lost, I'll know it before you will."
My Operations Officer had scheduled me for my first navigation flight check since joining the 46th Air Rescue Squadron at Westover Air Force Base, Massachusetts, in January of 1957. This would be my first flight in the SA-16, the military version of the Grumman Albatross. This aircraft is a flat-sided, wide-bodied, slow-flying seaplane with a boat-hull shape on its bottom. Some of them are still around, used to fly rich sport anglers into remote lakes or exhibited as curiosities at Air Shows.
The plane's short wings, located at the top of the fuselage, supported twin engines whose roars were mightier than their bite. The engines' acoustical vibrations threatened to deafen anyone in the plane, making normal conversation during flight possible only through the intercom system. A pontoon float jutted downward from each wing, giving stability to the plane when in the water. Two torpedo-shaped fuel tanks are attached to the underside of the wings. A large radar bubble on the plane's nose, looking much like that of the old-time movie comedian, W.C. Fields, completed the designer's attempt to make the world's ugliest airplane. I had a love/hate relationship with it; it was like having a girlfriend with a plain face and a great personality.
In 1957, Captain DeWitt might easily have been that tough old pilot I referred to earlier in this story. He was then an aircraft commander, having been called back into the Air Force some years before, the result of the Korean "police action." At the ripe, old age of thirty-five years, he seemed a little long in the tooth. The pink glow of his nose confirmed his years of taking advantage of inexpensive Officers' Clubs liquor. His attitude toward his subordinates reflected the frustration of his civilian career being interrupted twice. Only now did he accept military service as his only viable career choice? Hopelessly mired in a system that afforded scarce hope of advancement, he saw little in his future. An overabundance of officers of his rank meant he would probably remain a captain for a long time.
The brash navigator in the anecdote could likewise have been me. I was twenty-one years old, green as grass, fresh out of the Aviation Cadet Corps, and owned the world. Young and strong, with a pretty girl back home, I knew it all and loved the feel of the shiny gold bars on my collar and the wings on my chest. The sun shone only for me. I felt immortal.
Our co-pilot was Bill Leeper, a "down-home guy" and a country-fresh family man with a couple of well-behaved kids. He had a nice hearty laugh. He had come right out of an Ohio farm and into the Air Corps during WWII. I liked flying with him. He was a damned good pilot. I would find out just how good he was before the day was over.
The squadron's Chief Navigator, Jim Kellem, would check me out. His job was to find out if I had learned anything in training school. He briefed me on the flight, and the crew went down to the airfield to do our pre-flight checks. I was confident that I was on top of everything and knew my job, and with my usual smart-aleck attitude, I let Jim know I knew. We took off without incident, my only reservation being that the tip of the starboard propeller was whirling past my ear only a few feet away from my workstation.
Nevertheless, I was comfortable with the maps, charts, and orange glow of the radar and other electronic devices in front of me. Under Kellem's critical watch, I directed our pilots to our assigned starting point east of Cape Cod. For a few hours, Jim put me through the drill. Neither of us knew how soon we all were to be tested.
The excitement began with a call from the radar tracking station at North Truro, located near the tip of Cape Cod's peninsula. I didn't hear the call since only the pilots were tuned to air traffic control frequencies, but I could feel the charge in the air change in an instant. The roar of the engines grew to an unbelievable fury as the pilots pushed the throttles to the firewall. Walking up to the cockpit, I asked, in an almost childlike manner, "What's going on?"
Leeper leaned back and yelled in my ear, "We've got two guys bailing out of a jet trainer. North Truro's vectoring us to them." I knew instinctively that this was not part of the check ride; it was real. I would not wake up in bed and wonder about this strange dream. Everything up to this point in my life had been schooling, learning, and training.
So, this is what it was all about. I thought I was about to graduate. I didn't think about the possibility of failure; tests had never terrified me. However, a bit of knowledge I had picked up along the way did unsettle me almost immediately. We were over the North Atlantic in the middle of winter, with the ocean at near-freezing temperature. I had been taught that, without cold-water survival gear, a man suffers hypothermia at that water temperature in four to five minutes. Was it possible, I thought to myself, that we could get to these fliers before they succumbed to the cold?
No sooner had I asked myself the question than my eyes answered it. "Oh, Lord," I breathed. They were; right out in front of our cockpit windows, hanging in the sky! I think we all saw them at the same time. The parachutes almost seemed painted against the grayness. The sight fixated me, but DeWitt was all business. "Go to the back, and strap yourself in," he barked. I hastened to obey. No sooner had I secured myself than the plane banked sharply to the left and went into a steep dive. We were headed for the water two thousand feet below. The ocean appeared green and gray, with a frothy covering of whitecaps. I had never landed in water before, much less a wild and freezing ocean. A level of excitement and alertness I had never felt before now overcame me.
Up in the cockpit, Leeper flipped a switch. A sharp 'Thump!' confirmed that mounting bolts had been exploded, allowing the extra fuel tanks to be torn away from the underside of the wings by the rush of air. After what seemed like hours, the plane leveled off, only a dozen feet above the water. Our pilots were looking for a spot where the waves and troughs cancel each other out for just a moment and form a short-lived smooth lake in the middle of the raging ocean. The pilots would pull off engine power and allow the plane to mush gently into the sea. At least, that was what it said in the manual.
Suddenly…we were in the water. We hit hard, and I watched the water boil up over the window from which I peered. The body of the plane partially submerged, as if it were a submarine, and then, like a cork, we popped into the light. The landing hadn't been pretty, but Leeper had helped Dewitt maintain control. There was no time for a planning session. Each crew member knew his job and jumped into action. Our flight engineer was already pulling up hatches in the deck, checking to see if we had taken on leaks in the hull. The radio operator was busy relaying messages to the radar station at North Truro. Kellem and I bounced out of our seats and wrenched open the two side doors. The plane pitched wildly in the nine-foot seas as our pilots fought to maintain stability. Through all the pitching and rolling, our eyes kept scanning the ocean surface. We knew the parachutists were in the water...and they were already dying.
I have always been a lousy sailor; I even get seasick in the bathtub. This time was not to be different, but even as I was sharing my lunch with the fish, I kept looking for the bright parachute colors I knew would lead us to where the pilots were. Then…a shout erupted over the intercom. Someone had spotted one of the pilots! Looking straight out my door, I could now see him, too, perhaps a few hundred feet out our port side. It obviously wasn't possible for him to swim to us or even for us to tell if he were conscious. We would have to go to him.
I didn't think we could make the delicate maneuvers necessary to bring a twenty-ton plane alongside him in those turbulent seas. So…with the foolhardiness and overconfidence of youth, I told myself I'd have to go to him. After all, I was strong, virtually indestructible, and immortal, right? Looking back, in my defense, I plead immaturity and/or, at least, temporary insanity. Perhaps envisioning the medal being pinned to my chest, I started tying one end of a nylon rope around my waist in preparation for jumping into that water and swimming out to the flier. That was dumb, dumb, dumb...especially considering that I'm not a strong swimmer, and the water was intensely cold. In retrospect, now I know that I probably would not have made it to him. Fortunately, Kellem was both more levelheaded and experienced than I was, and he easily dissuaded me.
With the delicacy required to pluck a butterfly from a spider's web while leaving both web and butterfly unharmed, our pilots maneuvered the plane alongside the man in the water. Inching closer by the second, he was almost within reach. Then, as if in an act of mercy, a sea swell lifted him up as I leaned out the door. My fingers clutched at the back of his flight suit and tightened in a near-death grip. With a single motion, my strength multiplied by the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I lifted him clear of the water and in through the door. No event in my life, before or since, ever gave me a bigger high.
He collapsed immediately onto the deck, assuming the fetal position that is common to people who have been found frozen to death. Jim and Ralph were on him in an instant, removing his Mae West life preserver and soaking his flight suit and boots. They had him wrapped in a blanket and sipping hot soup in a matter of minutes. All this time, the rest of us kept looking for the other flier. I would have liked this story to have a happier ending, but sadly, we never found him. Even the helicopters that joined us in the search could find no trace of another parachute or life jacket. A C-123 "Flying Boxcar" arrived and flew a search pattern for several hours while we scoured the surface of the sea. Of course, we knew that even if we found him, it would now be too late. The unstated rule was that he was one of ours, and we had to bring him home, even if it were on his shield. It was not to be. He now belonged to the sea.
We were ordered to abandon the search and return to base. We had, however, damaged the aileron surfaces during our controlled crash-landing, and could no longer take off or fly. Instead, we taxied for several hours over the water surface until we reached the North Truro radar station, where we tied up in the bay and transferred to the station for debriefing, a meal, and a bed. After the meal, several of the crew decided to play a little poker before hitting the sack. "It's just a 10 and 25 cent game," our survivor said, inviting me to join the game.
I quickly recalled that he had bailed out over the freezing Atlantic Ocean, without a survival suit, but with our Air Rescue seaplane only minutes from his position. Amazingly, we had located him in that raging water, the rough equivalent of finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Finally, he had the incredibly good fortune to have had a sober Captain Dewitt and determined Bill Leeper at the controls of that plane.
Reason prevailed over foolhardiness. "Thanks, but I don't play poker with guys as lucky as you," I told him.
I was right. He won eleven dollars that night. He was The Big Winner.
It allows me to see where I was and how my friends are doing now. It reminds me of all the places and experiences I have been able to encounter and places I have been able to visit. It reminds me of the cultures and people that I have met in these places. It helps me remember the good old days. Since I retired from the Navy, my wife and I have traveled back to some of the places to visit some of the friends that I met and still enjoy.
AMCS Robert Collins, US Navy (Ret)
Served 1964-1985
Remi Adeleke is an actor and author these days, appearing in the Amazon Prime Video series "The Terminal List" and Fox's Special Forces: World's Toughest Tests. The transition makes sense: he spent his youth enamored by movies.
If there was good storytelling, it was a great escape from his everyday life. He was born in Nigeria, but his family came to the United States when he was five years old to escape persecution. Growing up in New York City, he began to work the streets as a drug dealer. Watching movies showed him he could be something more.
"When I was about 15, I saw a movie called 'Bad Boys,'" Adeleke says." That began to change my perspective as far as what I could be because I saw these two guys who looked like me and came from where I came from, but they maintained that same swagger. It showed me that I could maintain who I am and be a hero. I don't have to continue selling drugs."
"A year later, I came across a film called 'The Rock,' and that was my first exposure to Navy SEALs. I told myself if I ever turn my life around, that's what I would do: I'd be a frogman."
It wasn't long before a young Adeleke got on the wrong side of some bad people. Looking for an escape, he turned to the U.S. Navy. The recruiter worked with a local judge to get his criminal record expunged so he could join. Remi Adeleke became a Corpsman, and after a stint with the 1st Marine Division, he joined the Navy SEALs – just like he always said.
He left the Navy in 2016, spending his time in the SEAL Teams as a human intelligence operative. He collected information and vetted it by day. By night, he was suiting up with other frogmen for action missions, putting the information he collected to use. It was an exciting but classified life, filled with true stories he can't tell.
Adeleke wrote about his real life and rise through the ranks of the SEALs in his first book, "Transformed: A Navy SEAL's Unlikely Journey from the Throne of Africa, to the Streets of the Bronx, to Defying All Odds." This time, he's expanding on that story by using a fictional story to tell how he operated in the real world.
"Chameleon" is the story of Kali Browder Kent, a member of the CIA's Black Box program. Known as a chameleon, he can almost transform into another person, become a ghost when it comes to stealth and surveillance, and maintain a deep cover for long periods of time – years if necessary.
Kent is on the hunt for South African ex-commando Lucas Van Groot, who's made it his business to take wealthy hostages and hold them for ransom. Kent discovers the South African's scheme is much more complex. Van Groot's plan includes crippling global stock markets and threatening global economic collapse.
To prevent this global tragedy, Kent will have to use all his skills to track down Van Groot and his teams of international criminals.
"Fans of the espionage world who love a good action thriller and are intrigued by grounded, authentic storytelling will love it," Adeleke says. "Kids and adults who may come from where I came from and never saw themselves in this type of light will be excited about a grounded character who comes from where they come from."
To learn more about Remi Adeleke, his life and work, and his new book "Chameleon," visit the HarperCollins website. "Chameleon" hits bookshelves everywhere on July 25, 2023. It is available for pre-order on Amazon in hardcover, Kindle reader, and Audible audio, starting at $14.99.
Given its importance, it's surprising that the Battle for Brest is often overshadowed in D-Day history. Admittedly, a lot was happening at the same time. Allied forces surrounded and destroyed German defenders in Normandy. Gen. George S. Patton began his fast-paced thrust across the country, and Allied soldiers were bogged down in hedgerow country. 
As the Germans approached and were nearly on top of his machine gunners, 22-year-old Sgt. McVeigh stood up in full view of the enemy and began unloading his M1 Garand rifle. He ordered his men to do the same. Despite his effort to lay down fire and protect his machine gunners, the rounds from his rifle weren't enough to deter the onslaught of the enemy counterattack. 
The British would finally bring a significant force to bear against the Americans, and a combination of miscalculation and inexperienced command would result in the burning of the nation's capital. The only silver lining was 500 Marines who kept them at bay long enough for the U.S. government to escape. 
The Royal Navy approached the U.S. with four ships of the line, twenty frigates and sloops of war, and twenty transports with the goal of first destroying the U.S. Chesapeake Bay Flotilla. Under Commodore Joshua Barney's command, the flotilla destroyed its own gunboats and marched to Bladensburg, the key to defending Baltimore and (especially) Washington. 
British reinforcements began to arrive, and although the Americans stopped to regroup and fight again, the sight of more and more Redcoats was overwhelming. Winder ordered a retreat, but Commodore Barney didn't get that order. His sailors and Marines had their own guns and were on the high ground, so British troops assaulted their position.
The only problem is that the theme, though based on a war, has nothing to do with the United States and certainly nothing to do with the War of 1812. The only thing the U.S. has in common with the song is that Russia and the United States were both at war in 1812, though not with each other. 
The most used benefits include:
1. I'm fine and don't need these.
Vought's award-winning F-8 Crusader was one of the longest-serving airframes in American military history, so replacing it was going to be tough for anyone who tried. It was the last fighter to use mounted guns as a primary weapon, it had a top speed of Mach 1.8, and it claimed the best kill ratio of any American aircraft during the Vietnam War.
In practice, the pilot of the Crusader III was a lone seater, which meant he had to keep flying the plane while painting a target for its Sparrow missiles, which proved to be a difficult task for many. Meanwhile, the F-4 had a pilot and a Radar Intercept Officer for using the radar system. Adding in the fact that the F-4 would be capable of hitting targets on the ground while the Crusader was an air superiority fighter only and the choice became clear.
"Oh…Okay, sir," replied the new crewmember as he opened the latch on his map case, removed his own .45, and put it on his desk. 
The excitement began with a call from the radar tracking station at North Truro, located near the tip of Cape Cod's peninsula. I didn't hear the call since only the pilots were tuned to air traffic control frequencies, but I could feel the charge in the air change in an instant. The roar of the engines grew to an unbelievable fury as the pilots pushed the throttles to the firewall. Walking up to the cockpit, I asked, in an almost childlike manner, "What's going on?"
Suddenly…we were in the water. We hit hard, and I watched the water boil up over the window from which I peered. The body of the plane partially submerged, as if it were a submarine, and then, like a cork, we popped into the light. The landing hadn't been pretty, but Leeper had helped Dewitt maintain control. There was no time for a planning session. Each crew member knew his job and jumped into action. Our flight engineer was already pulling up hatches in the deck, checking to see if we had taken on leaks in the hull. The radio operator was busy relaying messages to the radar station at North Truro. Kellem and I bounced out of our seats and wrenched open the two side doors. The plane pitched wildly in the nine-foot seas as our pilots fought to maintain stability. Through all the pitching and rolling, our eyes kept scanning the ocean surface. We knew the parachutists were in the water...and they were already dying.
He collapsed immediately onto the deck, assuming the fetal position that is common to people who have been found frozen to death. Jim and Ralph were on him in an instant, removing his Mae West life preserver and soaking his flight suit and boots. They had him wrapped in a blanket and sipping hot soup in a matter of minutes. All this time, the rest of us kept looking for the other flier. I would have liked this story to have a happier ending, but sadly, we never found him. Even the helicopters that joined us in the search could find no trace of another parachute or life jacket. A C-123 "Flying Boxcar" arrived and flew a search pattern for several hours while we scoured the surface of the sea. Of course, we knew that even if we found him, it would now be too late. The unstated rule was that he was one of ours, and we had to bring him home, even if it were on his shield. It was not to be. He now belonged to the sea.
Remi Adeleke is an actor and author these days, appearing in the Amazon Prime Video series "The Terminal List" and Fox's Special Forces: World's Toughest Tests. The transition makes sense: he spent his youth enamored by movies.
Adeleke wrote about his real life and rise through the ranks of the SEALs in his first book, "Transformed: A Navy SEAL's Unlikely Journey from the Throne of Africa, to the Streets of the Bronx, to Defying All Odds." This time, he's expanding on that story by using a fictional story to tell how he operated in the real world.