Our firebase was set up about seven clicks from the nearest village, so it wasn’t unusual for us to get a request for medical aid when someone there was ill or injured. However the runner that appeared at the gate wasn’t a person anyone recognized, besides he looked a little to well fed if compared to the denizens of the village.

Skipper gave us the go ahead after contacting Top Side to request permission. As he put it, “Be careful — there’s something hinky about this shit.”

“Aye-aye!” I called out as I climbed in behind the wheel of the Mighty-mite.

With me were five Marines, however the runner chose to remain behind. That too was “hinky,” as it was  rare a local would pass up a free ride.

We slipped out a side gate and were soon speeding along the rutted roadway towards the village. It was late in the afternoon and we knew it would be dark in a couple of hours, so we wanted to make it a quick trip.

Shortly after arriving in the village, we learned what we already knew: there was no need for our help. It was obvious we were being baited for an ambush — so we radioed the base and let them know.

Having zipped through the jungle en route to the village, we had pointed out two places where we would have established an ambush site, had we been doing so. Within minutes we were speed towards the first spot.

As we passed it, nothing happened. We would have all sighed a breath of relief, but we still had one more to get beyond.

I knew we had less than a fifty-percent chance of getting back without encounter some sort of trouble.

The second site was jus’ beyond a slight rise in the roadway. I stepped on the gas pedal, intent on preventing us from be stopped and overrun.

I hit the rise at 65 miles and hour and was immediately airborne.

Jus’ beyond the rise I saw the man with the AK-47 rifle standing in between the ruts cut into the red earth. He had the rifle raised as if ready to fire, but he never had a chance to squeeze the trigger.

The front-end of the Mighty-mite was on him before he knew it. It slammed into him and much to my surprise he got hung up on the hood of the vehicle.

His reaction to having been struck with such brutal force was to grit his teeth, glare at me and raise his rifle. If he pulled the trigger — it was certain I would be dead.

I had to react fast, so I stomped hard on the brake pedal.

The vehicle bucked and fish-tailed back and forth. I saw the terrified look in the gunman’s eyes as he flew from the hood and bounced several times ahead of us.

Without hesitation I gunned the Mighty-mite. I felt the heave and thumping of his body as he disappeared under the vehicle.

The moment I hit him, several shots hit our the vehicle. All five Jarheads started returning firing as I mashed the gas pedal to the steel floor board and sped down the road.

I looked into what was left of the passenger side rearview mirror and saw what remained of the gun man’s body, crumpled and twisted in a heap.

When we pulled back into the relative safety of the firebase, one of the Marine’s jumped out of the vehicle and proudly announced, “Doc here’s a real killer — jus’ ran an asshole right over without hesitation.”

I tried to smile — then quickly rushed to the head so no one would see me throw up.

My friend came over to the house for a visit. He’s the only guy I know that can screw up an old saying up still come out making it make sense.

We were talking about work, where he’s been having a difficult time with a new boss. I sat and listened to his complaints.

At one point he said, “Too many chiefs make the water boil.”

I corrected him, “Don’t you mean ‘Too many chiefs, not enough Indian’ or, ‘Too many cooks ruin the soup?’”

“Nope,” he quickly replied, “I mean ‘I’m always in hot water!’”

I should have known.

In a large, heavy-duty plastic box, labelled “brushes,” I have all my old combat field gear stored. As I was sorting through it, Kay came into the room and started asking questions about what this was for and what that was for.

“That’s a flak vest — not bullet proof, but it is resistant, and that’s my helmet and that’s my TLBV which stands for tactical load bearing vest,” I explained

She lifted the old teflon vest to which my two canteens are still attached and looked closely at their covers. Each one has a small pocket stitched into the front part of the cover.

“What’s this for, Tom?” she asked, adding before I could answer, “Change?”

I laughed at the idea of carrying a bunch of quarters in the little flap. But then I realized she was asking serious question.

“No,” I answered, “It’s for the water treatment pills to be used when  the canteens are filled with untreated water.”

“Oh,” she replied.

Then I added, “But taking change to feed the parking meters while at war’s practical too.”

Kay jus’ glared at me as I continued to laugh at the thought.

Our ambulance had jus’ rolled up on the scene where a man had been struck and severely injured by a city bus. I got out and immediately started assessing his injuries.

He was mess with both thigh bones broken, a broken arm, possible pelvis and  rib fractures and part of one ear torn from the side of his face. Needless to say we had to get this man to the hospital pronto or he’d die.

As my partner gathered the required gear from the ambulance, I leaned down and told the injured man, “We’re gonna package you up meaning get you on a back board, put on a neck brace and lift you onto the gurney.”

He looked at me and tried to nod. I told him not too as he could have a neck injury we didn’t know about.

“Do you understand me?” I asked.

He responded, “Yeah,” than after a slight pause added, “I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus.”

He started laughing at his own joke, which was followed by a fit of coughing. I knew then he’d make it.

I had been home a few minutes when my wife told me she had problems with the new set of headphones she’d planned to use the evening before to watch some television shows via the Internet. I didn’t understand what she was talking about.

“Here, I’ll show you,” she said as we walked to the room where we keep our computer.

Once there she lifted a chord and stated, “I don’t know how to plug this kind of jack into the computer.”

I looked at it and immediately started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she asked slightly peeved.

“That’s the plug to my cellphone — not the headphones,” I answered.

As I replied to her question, I picked up the headphones and dangled the jack in front of her. She turned slightly red and then started laughing at the situation.

As we left the room, she looked at me and in a very serious tone and commanded, “You’d better not write about this!”

Well, guess what, hun?

Did the now-extinct giant ground sloth live alongside native Paiute and Shoshone tribes?

In 1930, archaeologist M. R. Harrington started working in Gypsum Cave, in the Frenchman Mountain Range. He found evidence of mankind along side deposits of petrified feces.

Then he found the skull and bones from a giant ground sloth. Below these, he discovered spear points and evidence of cooking fires.

Harrington noted the bones had been split, showing stone knife cut marks. It left no doubt in his mind that humans had co-existed with prehistoric animals.

Meanwhile many Native legends hint at a giant, slow-moving animal seen wandering through the Sierra Nevada mountain range.

Its been a difficult day for people living on the Comstock as a historic building from 1876 is gutted by flames. The Seven Gables House at 98 Howard Street in Virginia City, was one of the oldest homes in Northern Nevada.

It took crews from Storey, Carson City and Lyon counties as well as the Reno and Sierra Fire to keep the flames from spreading to other nearby structures. Unfortunately the roof collapsed, leaving  jus’ the walls standing, as the fire gutted the old building’s interior.

No one was directly injured by the blaze, but one fire fighter had to be taken to the hospital after he suffered an apparent heart attack. He’s currently listed in satisfactory condition and is expected to make a full recovery.

The house had been being used as a rental while the owner is in China on a teaching assignment. Also the home’s current residents weren’t there at the time the blaze broke out.

Neighbors braved the smoke and flames to enter the home to pull two dogs out. One dog was non-responsive but first responders were able to get it breathing again and it was taken to a veterinarian for observation.

The blaze’s cause remains under investigation.

Once again — the few screw it up for the many and in the true form of corporate punishment the many get screwed by a few. Common sense be damned!

An Internet posting of a fist fight between students from Reno and Galena High has led Reno High’s student leader’s to cancel the schools’ Winterfest Week.  The festival’s a week-long celebration that ends in a prom-like dance.

Washoe County School District Police say one person from Reno High, two from Galena High and a former student were in the fight. Furthermore it occurred off school property and there were no reported victims.

The student leadership was allowed to cancel the  event as a way of meting out discipline for the one student’s bad behavior — which isn’t really discipline but rather punishment for the remainder not involved.  Somehow the real lesson that could have been taught — which is what discipline is and is not — was never mentioned.

Now every student at Reno High’s on notice that if their school mate messes up — expect to be held responsible.  While  it keeps the student body in line, it also creates a lack of personal responsibility and a sense of fear in the form of the “Big Brother Effect.”

Smaller organizations use the system of corporate discipline to correct behavior of individuals by leveraging peer-pressure against the offender. It works well in the squad-bay — but loses its effectiveness when administered to a crowd of a few hundred.

So, why not discipline the individual seen fighting in the now-viral Internet video?

Because it’s easier for an assembled body to hand down sentence on a faceless crowd than to look in look at the  accused, sift through evidence and draw a conclusion before pronouncing sentence. It’s a shame that such a real-life teachable incident has been wasted.

Asked once if I were to write a history of the Silver State, where would I begin? My answer:  Berlin, Nevada.

That’s because long before it was a mining camp – and I mean LONG BEFORE – it was home to a prehistoric creature we know as the Ichthyosaur. In fact the area was acquired by the State of Nevada in 1970 and turned into a state park featuring 40 fossilized remains of the ancient sea monster.

The Ichthyosaur was a giant marine reptile that resembled a dolphin. Ichthyosaurs averaged six and a half to 13 feet in length and could weigh anywhere between 360 pounds to jus’ over a ton.

At Berlin-Ichthyosaur State Park in Nye County, a 55-foot skeleton remains embedded in the rock and is protected from the elements in a large barn.  In 1977, the Ichthyosaur became the State Fossil State of Nevada, which is some 90 million years after it became extinct.

As for the mining camp of Berlin — in 1911 it also suffered extinction.

A private jet carrying U.S. Marine Cpl. Jon-Luke Bateman’s flag-draped casket landed at Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas.  A half-dozen family members, a flight of airmen, the base color guard and seven white-gloved Marines met the plane on the tarmac for his final journey home.

The 2007 Pahrump High School graduate died January 15th while trying to rescue another Marine involved in an electric generator mishap in Helmand province.  Lance Cpl. Kenneth E. Cochran of Wilder, Idaho, was also killed in that accident.

The incident remains under investigation.