It's been five years and is my life's work thus far. I sincerely hope you fuckers read it. I love you all! Pick it up on Amazon: https://a.co/d/bb5PjWK

I'm finishing it up right now. LIMITED FIRST EDITIONS are the first copies to run. More deets on that soon. Wrapping up a 5 year project. It's gonna feel good. This one is gonna blow your fucking mind. I can't wait. -JLM

This is where it all started! You can literally go back through the threads in this forum and watch Tadpole get all riled up and end up writing his own fucking book. Congratulations, brother. I've just gotten it and I fucking love that parts of it are blacked out by the fucking Intelligence Community. Brother, epic fucking story, man. First of all, I want to thank you for all the support you've given me ever since i started my own bullshit, and secondly, I want to congratulate the fuck out of you for doing yet another epic thing with this life, this dragon, that you've been flying. Well done, Dragonrider. I salute you! -JLM

Nostalgia just hit, a thought or a smell or some other clue brought me back, not to a particular time or place but more like those moments that are "comfortable" that we retreat too when we think about the good times and forget about the bad times. It was in the field, non tactical, the sun isn't up, but it's threatening on the horizon, we are up and moving for the day. It was a cold night, but no fires were allowed in this T.A., so we are standing around trying to warm up. It will be a warm day so no one is wearing jackets, we are all shivering after climbing out of a warm sleeping bag or a Ranger Roll. We haven't showered in a few days so there is the smell of pine, the forest floor of detritus, DEET, a little B.O. and that smell that Surplus stores and supply huts have of issued equipment such as Deuce gear and Sleeping bags. Some guys are eating cold M.R.E.'s, some are warming them up (which adds to the smells), some are making MochaJava, all are sharing (even while bitching about it). Someone is complaining about a piece of gear being missing or broken, someone else is cracking a joke, laughter drifts through the air, we stand in groups telling stories about stuff that would get us thrown in jail in most countries or make us Kings in others. We both love and hate those around us depending on the minute of the day, but would die for any or all of them. We are ready for whatever comes at us today, good or bad. We are Brothers. The faces are not clear, and the names escape me as I grow older, but the sentiment and the feelings remain. The camaraderie, the esprit de corps, the affection. All the transgressions are forgotten and only the good remains, just as I sit here with aches and pains, I have forgotten the ones I had to have felt back then. For this moment, this very moment, I remember it as good as it ever was. These moments are the ones that will haunt me with nostalgia as I get older and older. Not the crazy insane things we did in Uncle Sam's Adventure Club, not the parties, not the explosions, the rounds expended, or the adrenaline rushes we all lived for, the things we did that would give our Mother's and Father's heart attacks. Not the the ass chewings or Forced Marches or Ruck Runs. Not the PT sessions after a night drinking. Not even holding a friend in pain, watching his life slip away, (for that will haunt us during those dark times). This is a memory of when it was good, and all was right in the world. And I will take this memory and hold it close for those times when I forget that I used to be cool. Cheers Brothers! And thanks for the memories.

The following story combines stupidity with bravery, which is, has been and will be, a feature of all war. Sometimes the combination results in tragedy or defeat. Sometimes such a mix results in victory. The story of SSGT Patrick Maloney is one of bravery and salvation and should be known by all who treasure our freedom and American fighting spirit. It is a story in which the stupidity was rightly neutralized, and bravery sealed the outcome. The fight against ISIS forces took place in the city of Mosul, Iraq on August 27, 2017. What’s with the decorations from Susan Hogan? What do they mean to me? Well...not every story has a happy ending but this one does. If you don’t mind, I’ll share it. My apologies but I want Susan and Patrick to know the full story. Let me be clear...all I did that day was talk on the radio... The Battle for Mosul was an urban slugfest: the most dangerous kind of war. The Iraqi Special Forces tasked with retaking it were ill-equipped, inexperienced and undisciplined by Western Standards but it was their fight. Eventually U.S. and Coalition Special Ops Forces were given the “Green Light” to go into the city and help them along. This was the biggest urban fight since Fallujah. Snipers, car bombs and IEDs were everywhere. A group of Marine Raiders found themselves in one hell of a gunfight. The SOF K-9 handler saw their best chance of survival was to jump in the machine gun turret and start rocking and rolling. Suppressing fire and well-aimed bursts into enemy positions were giving the Marines the momentum they needed. But now he was sky lined...in an urban fight...and an ISIS sniper found his mark. His Team now had to win the gunfight, get him to an LZ and secure it long enough for a DUSTOFF to get there; a tall order. They were outnumbered and could be easily surrounded. His very life depended on what they did next. And what they did next... 50 miles away I was sitting around the picnic table with my buddies. I was waiting to come off shift so we could eat, hit the gym and take a shower. 24 hour “Alert” status meant you slept in your clothes and were married to the radio should the call come in. A MEDEVAC call doesn’t care if you’re tired or hungry. YOU volunteered for this. I ran to the TOC to get the 9Line request. Garrick Turner ran to the chopper to crank up. Jared Belisle got the weapons ready while Ashley Lauren and Natsuki Hama grabbed blood and other gear they would need. I would meet them on the ramp in a minute or so. The aircraft wouldn’t start...neither would our sister ship. One of the Apaches broke on startup...this was bad. We needed 2 Hawks and 2 Gunships to make this happen. Mosul was no joke. Garrick calmly and professionally worked though the problems...never stopping. I can’t say the same about the PC of the other MED bird but I will leave out the negatives in this story. Dom Ollie (airline pilot and former medic) and his Air Assault crew, Darrell Busquets , Sean Woolever and Stephen Waller saw what was going on and against policy and the RAW jumped in their bird, cranked it up and said they were with us. They have never received official recognition for their actions, yet their decision was directly responsible for us departing on time. Time was not something those Marines had a lot of. One Apache was broke hard. It is a very complex aircraft and not really meant for this. As fate would have it the lone working Gunship was being flown by Stephen Frazee and his Battalion Commander. Steve had flown MED escort in Afghanistan and knew instinctively the importance of doing something now and doing the paperwork later. He advised the Commander and LTC Eddy Lee agreed. “Yes...bring everybody...we’ll sort out the “who’s and what’s” later.” Keith RB was in the TOC as the S3 Air. It was his job to coordinate at the upper levels with Generals, Air Force CAS and a multitude of other elements that always seemed to come up with a reason to turn down a mission. Many officers in his position would simply cower in the face of Generals and their staff but he had been shot down twice in one week on a previous deployment. He had been the man on the ground hoping for a rescue force. He knew what “Immediate Needs” meant, refused to take “No” for an answer and cleared us “Hot.” Hearing the tone of the JTAC I knew this time was probably different. “Are you lost!? Where the F@@k are you?!!!!!” This man was an Air Force JTAC/Combat Controller: an elite commando known for bravery and professionalism. He wasn’t being dramatic but he was VERY CONCERNED with the situation. A year prior to this battle, a SEAL had been gravely wounded. The DUSTOFF helicopter’s navigation computer failed giving the crew erroneous data. They were nearly shot down but kept looking until they found the Team. They were later assured by the SEALs that they knew the wound was fatal. Still the “Customer” had requested support and it wasn’t there in the timeliest fashion. With this in mind, we were determined not drop the ball in any way, shape or form. So, his concern was our concern. I double checked the navigation and told him we were just a few minutes out. He wouldn’t hear us until we were right on top of him. The 18D/SARCs ran the wounded Marine out to the chopper. Ashley and Natsuki worked their magic/witchcraft while Jared started pulling out the gear they would need. They have asked me not to talk about the details of what happened in the back of the helicopter. What I will say is that I saw them save a man’s life several times. From the Aviation side they were definitely the heroes that day. ISIS was known for rushing positions with car bombs so Steve and his Commander orbited high looking for suspicious vehicles, 30mm cannon and Hellfire missiles at the ready. Dom and his crew flew low and fast, his machine gunners looking for mortar teams and snipers. Those were a real concern and could be hiding anywhere. They could wreak havoc on a Landing Zone. Garrick flew us back and the Marine was transferred to the Forward Surgical Hospital. Our part was largely over. I made sure to tell everyone what a great job I thought they did. No sooner had we landed than my Commander pulled me aside and reprimanded me for “Taking off too fast.” He did the same thing to Dom but said “You weren’t even on the Risk Assessment! You weren’t supposed to fly that mission!” If you think this was the same person who jumped up and down, screaming at his LT, unable to crank up his helicopter you would be correct. Sorry for the negatives but he’s part of this story too. Susan Hogan got very spotty news about her son’s condition. Nobody seemed to know much. The Marine Recon/Raider/Scout Sniper Community is very small. It didn’t take long for someone to say “Hey there’s an Ex-Recon guy up there flying DUSTOFF. Maybe he knows something.” And so a retired Marine Officer named Jim Robinson reached out to me and asked if I would talk to the mother and put her mind at ease. “Don’t violate OPSEC or anything but please talk to her. Give her some good news: Semper Fi brother, always Beside You!” Can you even imagine what this woman was going through...can you imagine? I knew this man was a father and would be telling this story to his children one day. I mailed him the actual 9 Line I received, the notes I took on my knee board and a stick on “Dual Cool” the symbol of Recon Marines. I thought it appropriate that the Raiders knew that even in the middle of the desert the Brotherhood was there for them. Always Beside You Patrick was awarded the Bronze Star with V for his heroism that day. He was referred to as the “Audie Murphy of Mosul.” He has since left the Marine Corps. Susan and her family wanted to put a face on what happened that day. They chose me to be that face and I guess I’ll play the part. I wanted her to know what really happened and who really did heroics. I’ve named them in this post. All I did was talk on the radio but I was glad to be a part. Thank you, TADPOLE. Marine Raider receives Bronze Star with 'V' device for 'fearless actions' in Iraq Jeff Schogol November 6, 2017 Staff Sgt. Patrick H. Maloney receives the Bronze Star with "V" device at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, on Oct. 30. (Sgt. Salvador R. Moreno/Marine Corps) A Marine Raider who laid down a barrage of gunfire Audie Murphy-style after his unit was ambushed in Iraq has received a Bronze Star with “V” device. Staff Sgt. Patrick Maloney‘s “bold actions further contributed to the immediate withdrawal of enemy forces,” according to his award citation. On Oct. 30, Maloney received his Bronze Star with “V” device from Maj. Gen. Carl Mundy III, commander of Marine Corps Forces, Special Operations Command. Maloney, a dog handler [K9 unit], and other Marines from the 2nd Raider Battalion were on a reconnaissance mission with Kurdish fighters on Aug. 27, 2016. Suddenly three of Maloney’s team members were pinned down by enemy machine gun fire, the citation says. Bullets struck the vehicle they were using as cover. Showing his bias for action, Maloney attacked. He charged across open ground, grabbed ammunition and reached a Peshmerga heavy machine gun in the back of a truck. “Remaining deliberately exposed to withering fire, he laid deadly suppressive fire on the enemy fighting positions,” his citation says. Twice during the firefight, the machine gun stopped working. With enemy rounds landing within feet of him, Maloney got the machine gun back in action, allowing his teammates to reach cover. “By his extraordinary courage, zealous initiative, and total dedication to duty, Staff Sergeant Maloney reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service,” his citation says. Maloney is currently assigned to the Wounded Warrior Regiment, said MARSOC spokesman Maj. Nicholas Mannweiler. He was wounded on Dec. 30 during his fifth combat tour to Iraq, according to an online fundraiser organized by his family at the time. A family acquaintance told Marine Corps Times in January that Maloney had suffered a head injury. Tadpole now flies Apaches. He's part of the crew on this page and goes by @RamadiTaxiDriver60M. Thanks for the story, brother. Below is a picture of him in his sweet ass gunship. GLOSSARY 9 Line--the military version of calling 911 18D/SARC-18D is the Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) for Special Forces combat medic. SARC is Special Amphibious Reconnaissance Corpsmen, indicating Green Berets, SEALs or Marine Recon COIN—Counter Insurgency operations Dual Cool-- Marine slang for the USN/USMC gold jump wings and Combat SCUBA bubble worn on the uniform to designate a Force Recon Marine DUSTOFF—call sign for Army airborne casualty evacuation (CASEVAC). Actually an acronym developed during Vietnam for “Dedicated Unhesitating Service To Our Fighting Forces” JTAC—Joint Terminal Attack Controller—the modern version of the Forward Air Controller, responsible for coordinating and directing aircraft in support of ground combat operations K-9—typically German shepherds, retrievers or Belgian Malinois trained for various mission specialties Marine Raiders--train, advise, and assist friendly host nation forces. Raiders come under the Marine Special Forces Command (MARSOC) RAW—Risk Assessment Worksheet—document to be filled out by a mission commander to take account of all risk factors prior to a mission. ROZ—Restricted Operating Zones S3-Air—Command Staff officer who submits requests for close air support to the chain of command SOF –Special Operations Force-generally refers to all services Special Forces, with each branch having their own units and commands TOC—Tactical Operations Center, a unit’s command and control hub

Looking for a purpose and a good excuse to kick some ass again? My bro Rudy Reyes is one of the founders of Force Blue. These mofo's don't play when it comes to saving the god damn world. I highly recommend you check this shit out and get involved however the fuck you can. This is the kind of life giving shit we need to dive into. It will fuel your own life as well as this ball of mud in space that we love and call home. I'm not a hippie dippie type, but bro, you don't shit where you live, and we are doing just that as a human race. Let's take it personally. As in, you don't fucking leave target indicators, and you look after your house and your family, and we understand that shit. Check out the vid and get involved at www.forceblueteam.org.

Ya'll need to listen to this shit and sign up to be a battle buddy for Sound Off. This is the next step beyond Bitch & Moan. You don't have to have your shit together to help people get through shit. In fact, most people running through the Valley of the Shadow of Death got no time to listen to someone like that. It's we who helps us best. Get your fucked up ass off the couch and help fucked up people. It's actually the first and most important part of recovering from your own fucked-up-ness. https://sound-off.com/

This is a talk I gave a couple years ago at a veterans Townhall event put on by an organization called Everyone for Veterans. It’s an amazing organization that gives free dental work to any veteran anywhere in the US. If you want more information on this get in touch with me in the thread below and/or go VFR Direct to: https://www.everyoneforveterans.org Here's an article that the American Dental Association did on my experience with them: https://www.ada.org/en/publications/ada-news/2019-archive/march/program-to-help-combat-veterans-receive-free-oral-care-expanding-throughout-nation I'm pretty much famous. hahaha Anyway, this is a follow-up to some ideas we were kicking around in a previous thread.

After I stopped deploying I was a mess. Couldn't sit still, couldn't read a book (which I used to do 4 or 5 at a time - still can’t which sucks), either way, couldn't sit down long enough for a TV show, a movie, or a football game. Then I found cigars. I can sit still at peace now for 45 minutes to an hour no problem with a cigar in my hand. Plus they're fucking delicious. They've actually helped me quit dipping and smoking cigarettes. I just take the Zyn nicotine pouches and smoke cigars, so I'll pretty much never die. Try it out.

The Marine Recon Foundation has begun a fundraising campaign to publish The Perfect Fucking Life!!! Check out the interview below with Pep Tablada, Eddie Wright, and yours truly. If you want to donate, click on the link below. https://www.facebook.com/donate/406446874546992/ Let's do this!!!

what war feels like My mouth is so dry. I can feel my heart beating, especially in my ears against the sweaty earpiece that I keep checking to make sure it’s in tight, but the sweat won’t let it be. I take a quick look around, then take my left glove off and roll a foamy piece of ear protection as tight as I can so it will fill up the ear canal and occlude as much sound as possible. The sweat and dirt on my fingers make it slippery as I roll it. I put it in my left ear and hold it there as it expands and makes the world sound dull and flat. Now I can’t hear as well but once the shooting starts I won’t hear anything at all if I don’t put it in. It’s a tradeoff. I put my glove back on then swear to myself and take it back off. I forgot I was going to put a dip in. The tobacco tastes cold and sweet between my gum and lip. It’s so hot you can smell it. Something is about to go down. Everyone can feel it. The shops started to close afew minutes ago, the proprietors pulling down the garage doors that open to the dirty street. My back hurts from leaning back to counter the heavy ammo and grenades on the front of my ballistic plate carrier. I have 12 magazines on me and one in the gun totaling 390 rounds, and several types of grenades. I’m aware that I am scared, and it pisses me off. I’m not scared of dying. I’m not scared of pain. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that nothing will happen to me and I’m terrified of the shock and feeling of incredulity I will feel when it does. And I’m mad that I believe so strongly that nothing will kill me. It makes me feel like I’m not ready for something very big that I have to be ready for. It is insanely irritating. I feel daft. I keep trying to picture myself dead, or imagine the feeling of the explosion or bullet, so I’ll be ready, but I can’t. I’m not ready for death and it is infuriating. I block it all out. But I’m still livid. I decide to take it for granted that I’m invincible. It’s the best I can do. The Marine Explosive Ordinance Disposal (EOD) guys are out on route Michigan getting ready to blow a up mortar round that failed to detonate upon impact of the street to my front. I’m in a reviewing stand about 10 feet off the ground and 10 feet from the road. 10 foot concrete Jersey barriers line the street in front of the Government Center compound where we are and continue around its border. Sandbags are stacked two wide and about 3 feet high around the circumference of the 20 X 10 foot reviewing stand floor. It has a tin roof and tin walls on three sides. The Detail Leader, a former Delta Force guy named Pigpen, is sitting down in a folding metal chair with the PRC-119F radio handset jammed against his ear. “They’re going to blow it in 30 seconds.” Pigpen says. I take a hard look around before I get down behind the sandbags on a knee. “CRACK” The explosion is right next to us on the other side of the Jersey Barriers. “Damn bro, that was a lot closer than I thought it was going to be.” Pigpen laughs. The explosion has a catalytic effect on the tension that has been mounting and now it breaks like a dam. We’ve all been waiting. Thank God, here we go. Instantly rounds start snapping through the air by us. Sounds like maybe a PKM and some AK fire. The Marine Up-gunner’s .50 cal is already answering. Pigpen aims across my front and takes three shots. I see nothing to my front and down the alleyway that I’m covering. Suddenly it’s dead quiet. “Got that motherfucker.” Pigpen says smiling. “He was in that one little window we were looking at yesterday.” I smile not taking my eyes off my sector of fire. I know it’s going to kick off again in a second. I feel a lot better now.