The Road to Heaven Is Paved in Road Apples: The Memories of a Horseman

By P. A. -C. Bill Hunt

There is more than one good man credited with saying, Theres something about the outside of a horse that, is good for the inside of a man. In his book Bill Hunt explains to everyone what that quote means. In his service from the riding instructor for the Military Aides to the President, to High School and Handicapped Kids, he has almost certainly insured his place in a heaven that is especially for his horses.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496946133

P. A. -C. Bill Hunt

Bill Hunt is a retired army chief warrant officer with twenty-two years of federal service. After retiring, he taught high school in DC and Indiana. After leaving the classroom, he with his wife, Mary, acquired a forty-acre farm where they ran an equestrian facility until he re-retired at age of sixty-five. At that point, due to some good-natured kidding by friends, he took up writing and now has authored seven books with three more lying on the desktop. He has two sons, Timothy and Daniel, from a previous marriage, two German shepherds, two Hanoverian horses, and three cats.

Book preview

The Road to Heaven Is

Paved in Road Apples

THE MEMORIES OF A HORSEMAN

BILL HUNT, P.A.-C.

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© 2014 Bill Hunt, P.A.-C. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/16/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-4612-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-4613-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014918716

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1 Clay

Chapter 2 Mc Arthur

Chapter 3 Sophie

Chapter 4 Able a.k.a. Heavy Drop

Chapter 5 Peaches and Pound Cake

Chapter 6 Apache

Chapter 7 Dollar, Private, and That Horse

Chapter 8 Tadd and Bishop

Chapter 9 Mag

Chapter 10 Maui

Chapter 11 Skye Monster and Maxamillion

Chapter 12 Bishop’s New Beginning

Chapter 13 Tadd’s New Beginning

Chapter 14 Evil Mare and Moose

Chapter 15 Ladazio and Coronjo

Chapter 16 Happy Horse, Stick, and the Mare

Dedication

If you have read any of my other attempts at writing you already know they first began at the suggestion of Mary Meyer. A horsewoman in her own right, she suggested I write one about my times and trials with the horses I have worked with in my life and so here it is. Moreover, if it hadn’t been for, Nancy King, my editor, I would have never gotten anything into print at all. Additionally if it hadn’t been for Mary Ventline, I would have never gotten in to horses at all.

Especially for,

Nancy and Mary x’s two

Chapter 1

Clay

Four quotes have guided my life as a horseman. The first attributed to both Will Rogers and Winston Churchill, There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man. The second from an old Cavalry recruiting poster, The Horse is man’s most noble companion. Join the Cavalry and have a courageous friend. Three is by an unknown author and my favorite version is The history of man is littered with the bones of horses. The last is my own, I believe every kid should have a horse, if for no other reason than to learn what parenting is all about.

Mary, the woman who would become my better half, already decided what she wanted in a potential candidate for a husband: over 6 feet tall, brown eyes, speak, read, write English, must have a deep and unbending love for horses, and single.

I though six out of seven should at least get me in the door. I mean after all she met both of my requirements, female and intelligent. Although not a requirement, very attractive, didn’t dampen my enthusiasm in the least.

She worked as a medical secretary in the aviation clinic at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. I held down the job of Aviation Medical Officer (Flight Surgeon) for the Second Squadron of the Seventeenth Cavalry Regiment (Airborne) of the 101st Airborne Division.

I smiled to myself. I must have impressed her every morning when I sauntered into the clinic, my Cavalry Stetson, sitting jauntily, slightly tipped, to the side and with the a caduceus centered over my rank insignia, while totally unauthorized, worn nonetheless. However, if she in fact was, I never saw any signs of it.

I received a telephone call one morning from one of the Charlie Troop platoon leaders concerned about one of his Warrant Officer pilots.

If you’re free this afternoon can you take a check ride with me and the Warrant, he asked.

Of course, what seems to be the problem?

"I don’t want to prejudice your thinking so meet us on the flight line at 1400.

As far as the Warrant was concerned, you’re going with them to get in some hours.

Pilots with medical issues are very leery about having to fly with Flight Surgeons’. The primary job is to keep everyone safe and that means applying the rules for temporary or permanent grounding. Permanent leads to loss of flight pay. Therein lays the fear.

When I arrived, they already completed their pre-flight and had the bird cranked. I jumped into a seat behind the Warrant, and buckled in. I plug in my Y-cord,

Are you ready to go? the Lieutenant asked.

Roger that Sir, I replied

The Crew Chief cleared the tail and we taxied to the end of the active runway. The weather was severe clear.

We flew around for about an hour, boring holes in the sky, when all of a sudden the Warrant nosed the ship over, started decreasing altitude, and appeared headed for a clearing near a small stand of trees. As we set down, the Crew Chief said, Lieutenant, you take control of the aircraft.

The Lieutenant put his feet on the pedals and took the stick. The Warrant jumped out and headed for the stand of trees unbuckling his trousers as he ran.

I keyed my mike and said, Roger that El Tee, you take us home, he’s grounded. How long has this been going on?

I found out this morning, just before I called you. Allegedly about two weeks, it’s been getting worse and he evidently really scared the hell out of his crew yesterday.

The Warrant came back and climbed in, Sorry ’bout the Sir, must have been the greasy meatloaf at lunch.

The Lieutenant said, Roger that, I have the aircraft, if you need to set down before we get home just holler.

When we landed, I called the Gastroenterologist also an aviation medical officer

Bring him right over, he said.

I put him in my jeep and off we went. The doc called me the next day with the diagnosis of Chronic Ulcerative Colitis. I called his Troop Commander and informed him, I grounded the pilot until I got the paperwork done for Fort Rucker and will probably result in permanent grounding. I went out to the front of the clinic and asked Mary if she could hang around a bit that I had to dictate a permanent grounding and I needed her to type and forward it to Rucker as soon as possible. She agreed to stay.

After a few minor changes on the paperwork, I asked. Would you like to get something to eat?

Absolutely not, she responded.

A few days later one of her friends, a lab tech told me I should ask again. Therefore, I did. What part of ‘no’ is confusing you? came her reply this time.

I let it be for a while and then a different friend approached me and under the strictest of confidentiality, told that maybe the third time would be a charm.

I walked over to Mary’s desk and sat on the corner.

Look, no part of ‘no’ is confusing me. Why do your friends keep sending me back. If the answer is their playing games and if you are going to say no, I’m not going to ask the question. After having been swatted twice on the nose with a newspaper, this dog is ready to run.

Ask me again, she grinned, with a glint in her eye

Hearing the roll of the newspaper, I covered my nose.Would you like to join me for dinner sometime?

Sure, sounds like fun, she replied. When do you want to do it?

My jaw dropped and we set a time for the following weekend.

I picked her up at the appointed hour and we headed for the Officers Club. When we went in, I introduced her to a couple of my pilots. Half way through our first drink, she said, "I’m uncomfortable in this setting. Would you mind if we went somewhere else?

I waved a few good-bys as we left for a Bluegrass joint I’d come to like. I don’t know whether it was the dirt floor covered with peanut shells or the redneck ambiance, but half a beer later, we were on the road again.

I suggested that we should go to a local steak place where the server would bring out full. You had the option of how large a hunk they would cut off for you. They literally served their beer in buckets, and the baked potatoes swam in anything and everything that you could put on a potato.

No thank you. How about Burger King, she smiled.

I thought, Oh well, it’s still beef, I guess.

The following day we went for a ride up to the State Park outside of Hopkinsville. On the way back to post, we stopped for dinner. You got it, Burger King again.

A couple or so days later, I ask, Do you like to fly? The crew I usually fly with has to get up to date on their cross-country and night hours. How about going with us?

Sure, she answered quickly.

I told her boss what we were doing and, that if the bird developed mechanical problems, we might have to remain overnight somewhere.

Okay she’s covered if she’s not back in time for work, he said.

My next call was to a nurse in the emergency room.

Yes, she answered, and my roommate would love to go along and I’ll find a date for the crew chief.

I got an extra helmet and plugged it in so Mary could monitor the conversations from the crew. I handed her the helmet and while she put it on, and they started to crank the airplane. The pilot in the left seat looked back at me and made a rude comment about the passengers’ body parts. I keyed my mike Hey, you’re broadcasting.

Luckily, Mary was still trying to get her hair into the brain bucket and she missed what he said.

He turned back to the front of the aircraft. Oops,

The other pilot just snickered at him.

We lifted off and the eight of us flew to Paducah, Kentucky where we stopped for fuel. Then we went on to Evansville, Indiana. Usually at this point, someone would notice the chip detector light had come on and we would land again and have the crew chief check it. Depending on what happened over dinner at the terminal, he would claim to have found something and ground us until it could be repaired in which case we would have to remain overnight in Evansville. Alternatively, it was on to Bowling Green and home, but the crew chief’s date wasn’t happy with the RON prospective so we flew on.

The next thing I knew we saw quite a bit of each other. She insisted that we would go to the post rental stables a lot. That’s where I started working on that final condition.

After what seemed like a very short time, a twelve-hour drive up to Michigan to meet the family. She being the oldest, she had a sister and brother near her age, then came two younger brothers about ten years later.

We left on a long weekend and arrived in the late evening hours. She dropped me at Ralph’s motel and she proceeded home, to the farm. In the morning, I awoke at my normal time and tried to find some coffee. Deep in farmer territory, I made a futile attempt. No 7-11, McDonalds, or any other like type places had found out that Bad Axe, Michigan was in such dire need. I had to wait an hour and a half for the local restaurant to open.

I went back to the room and considered putting on a uniform. I figured that a United States Paratrooper always impresses everyone but I decided against it for this set of interviews. No bravado this time I would have to be just me. Instead, I just put on a shirt, and tie. Laid out my jacket and waited. Eventually her oldest brother showed up to pick me up. On the way back to the farm, he offered me a joint, I politely declined with no innuendo of disapproval.

We spent the morning, touring the farm and playing twenty questions while attempting to entertain her two younger brothers.

This would be the easiest of the day’s interviews. The kid’s questions were about farming so my answers came easy, I don’t know and it should have been I don’t care.

Over the course of the morning, both sets of grandparents arrived. The afternoon, I spent with her Dad and the Granddads playing euchre, drinking whiskey and playing a second round of twenty questions.

My partner was her granddad Mike, a robust jovial retired IAW member from Detroit. He had served overseas in World War II. His questions were service related interspersed in a continual diatribe on how the common drafted dogface had won the war and what a great person Roosevelt was. The best part about it, the more whisky that disappeared, the more super human Roosevelt became. I tried hard to bit my tongue and actually succeeded.

Her dad and his dad on the other hand, were a bit more on the relaxed side. Her Granddad had been exempt during the war due to his status as a farmer. Her dad had served post-war in the Navy. I felt that we didn’t have much of a common bond forming here. From him I got the expected, don’t rock the boat questions.

I tried to answer with yes and no as much as possible, but they dug deeper a little on some of the questions.

Where did I grow up? he asked.

In South Jersey, just across the river from Philadelphia

What did your dad do for a living?

Dad was born and raised on a small family farm in South Jersey, at age fourteen he went to work for the A&P. He stayed there until he retired. His only time away from that job was when he received his draft notice for the Army for World War II. He was a combat infantry badge and Bronze Star holder. Mom was a nurse and she also served overseas in the Army during the war.

Why did you go in the Army, have you been in Viet Nam, and are you going to stay for twenty years and retire?

I went into the Army to get some discipline into my life and yes I served in Vietnam where I had received the combat medical badge and a Bronze Star also. I didn’t know if I would retire at twenty but I would definitely stay at least that long. That seemed to draw a couple of definite maybes.

Mike took a long pull on his cigar and exhaled a large cloud of smoke. All the while, he smiled and nodded his head, and expressed his pleasure. I thought, one yes vote for the candidate.

During dinner, the third round of twenty questions took place. It was the mothers turn and I really didn’t fair to well on this one. They played no slack hard ball. Some of their questions I was willing to answer, some I was not.

Where are your sons?

With their Mother, per the Court order, I stammered.

Then they asked why I was divorced. I felt the hair began to rise on the back of my neck, I thought, that’s none of you GD business, biddy!

I immediately went into a passive- aggressive mode.

Perhaps some of these questions should be reserved for a later time, like when the younger folks at the table aren’t’ present.

This was followed by, wasn’t I too old for Mary, how long would it be before I dumper her for a younger one, was I going to get out of the Army and be a real husband and father, how many kids were we going to have, how would I support them after I got out.

At this point, I inverted my fork and crossed the knife and fork at the top of my plate pushed it toward the center of the table, interlocked my fingers with folded hands, placed them on the table behind the plate, and stared down the most egregious of my tormentors.

Realizing that the best I was going to do here would be one possible maybe, and that was entirely dependent on Mike’s power of persuasion. I would look at the younger boys and give vague answers as if I wouldn’t talk about it in front of them. It wasn’t working and dinner couldn’t end fast enough.

Right after dinner, her brother returned me to Ralphs. Another joint offered, this time accepted and a side trip to a local inconvenience store for munchies, morning coffee and sterno.

By the morning of the second day there, her Mother, both Grandmothers and her oldest brother decided this relationship wouldn’t continue. I am not Catholic, I am divorced, I had two sons, and they believed I appeared too old and ugly. On top of that I had a full time career soldiering. Additionally I stood over six foot, had brown eyes, I didn’t speak, read, or write Polish, and in the eyes of God, I wasn’t single.

They never even considered the horse part.

On the other side of that coin was the trip to my hometown, located just across the river from Philadelphia in South Jersey. Growing up I shared a bedroom with my brother. My sister had her own. Therefore, when we arrived Mary stayed in my sister’s vacant room

For Mary the obligatory game of twenty questions was relatively short. She only had to put up with Mom and Dad. As I recall Mom’s first and only question was in regards to her favorite food. When she replied, Blueberries

I cringed. She was now doomed to blueberries at every meal from now until we would leave.

Dad on the other hand started with, how many siblings he had, and asked about hers’. Then he told her, he had been born and raised on a small farm, and anecdotes about the things he liked and didn’t like about the farming life. She responded in kind. He had all the information he wanted.

Later that afternoon Mary laid down for a nap, and I was summoned to the kitchen table (make that the jury room) for the verdict.

They decided she was an intelligent, strong willed, attractive young woman who all things being equal, could and would keep me in line and for them a good thing.

It years later Mary told me her only regret about that visit was mentioning the blueberries.

The bottom line in fact