Monday, December 5, 2016

Egypt, Egyptians, and the New Me

(Revised version)

Leviticus 19—“The stranger who dwells among you shall be to you as one born among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.”

This verse speaks to the overriding change that Egypt helped produce in me.

I last visited one of my favorite places in the world 11 years ago. Yet Siwa Oasis, the little jewel of Egypt’s Western Desert, still looms big and fresh in my memory.

All of Siwa’s individual traits can be found elsewhere in the world—but I know of few locations that have so many special characteristics in one place. Tens of thousands of palm trees, huge and pure sand dunes, ancient ruins, the mud town of Shali, Cleopatra’s Pool and lots of other springs, the Palm Trees Hotel and Abdu’s Restaurant—both cheap but sufficient—countless bicycle trails and donkey carts, starry nights, and a lack of traffic signals make up this beautiful desert home.

Egypt has many attractions beyond the ancient wonders (or current problems) that receive all the headlines. Even more importantly, Egypt has charming people who also elude media attention—including in Siwa.

Siwans, like the people of other desert havens in the nation, consider themselves citizens of their oasis first, and of Egypt second. They are North African Berber, not Arab or pharaonic, and they retain their own language, culture, dress, and history. Today many speak Arabic and a few speak English, but whatever the linguistic connection or barrier, you can sip tea for hours in local shops with your gracious, smiling hosts. This may result in trading email addresses—and some actually do write you—or even in receiving gifts on your subsequent trip…a year later.

Back in Cairo and Alexandria, people often look at you with dollar signs in their eyes. But if you speak a little Arabic or patron a shop or restaurant multiple times, Egyptians may help you, laugh with you, spend the day with you, or become your friend. Egyptian associates like to pull pranks, but they will feel deeply honored if you ever respond to their requests to hang out. Just note their invitations assume several hours of your time—whether you get stuck in traffic or not.

Egyptians enjoy discussing religion and politics. Muslim friends have asked me genuinely about the nature of the Trinity or the life and death of Christ. One Osama and Mohamad found it funny, because of their names, to drink tea with a Christian American. But personal topics are fair game also: “I am a strong man; I have six children!” Or, “Why aren’t you married yet?” (By the way, I did find my Christian American bride in Egypt!)

Egypt was the first place in which I lived outside my own country. I was excited, but scared, not knowing the people, food, or language—and only trusting one viewpoint about their religion and government. I met my first Egyptian on my Munich-Cairo flight. His friendly enthusiasm for my visit started a rapid, dramatic shift in my approach to this ancient nation, which, after all, was far older than my own. Now I have dozens of Egyptian contacts, including my closest non-American friend.

The spiritual state of Egypt greatly tugs on my heart and informs my prayers. I long to see hearts redeemed in phenomenal communities like Tanta, Dahab, Agouza, and Siwa. Among my richest memories in Egypt was worshiping at Maadi Community Church. Members hail from across the globe. My small group had Czech, Egyptian, Brazilian, or American passports. One morning the pastor invited everyone to turn and face the sunlight—and Egypt—behind us. With hands raised, we proclaimed:

“Shine Jesus, shine; fill this land with the Father’s glory!
Blaze Spirit, blaze; set our hearts on fire!
Flow river, flow; flood the nations with grace and mercy.
Send forth Your Word, Lord, and let there be light!”

I spent nine months in Egypt between 2004 and 2006. The government has changed greatly since then. But after working with many Egyptians in Qatar in 2010-2013, I think the people have only changed a little. When you travel, and live, with a heart that strives to love and learn from others, God might change you more than anyone you meet along the way.

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(Originally published by the Maadi Messenger, in Egypt.)

Sweet Grass County Goes to War: The lives of veterans a century ago—before, during, and after their military service

In the summer of 1898, the United States defeated Spain in one of its briefest and most one-sided military victories: the Spanish-American War. Then from 1899 to 1902, America fought a longer and costlier war against the Philippines, ultimately subduing the islands. In that pre-travel period, many young men from Montana participated in both conflicts.

One War Becomes Two

Cubans had sought independence from Spain, and Americans sympathized with them, especially when Spanish rule was harsh. Moreover, American economic interests in Cuba had been surging, and the imperial endeavors of other major powers spurred America to increase its global military and political reach.

For many Americans, the last straw was the sinking of the USS Maine battleship and its 260-plus sailors in Havana Harbor in February 1898. Spain was never proven to be the perpetrator, but the public outcry was unforgiving and impatient. Congress declared war in April, and the subsequent four months saw fighting in Cuba and the Philippines, another disgruntled Spanish colony.

The United States demolished the Spanish fleets in the Caribbean and the Pacific, and won many land battles—most famously the July advance of Theodore Roosevelt’s “Rough Riders” in Cuba. Around 3000 Americans died in the war, most from disease. Combat ended in August, and Spain and the United States signed the Treaty of Paris in December. Spain gave up most of its overseas possessions, and America liberated Cuba—though arguably only technically—and purchased the Philippines for $20 million. America had become a world player.

Yet many Filipinos had desired independence, not another colonial occupation. They rejected the protracted presence of U.S. troops, and war broke out in February 1899 between the recent allies. Each side committed atrocities, and peace stalled for more than three years. Tens of thousands of Filipinos perished, as did some 4200 Americans. The islands finally achieved independence after World War II.

The First Montana

Seemingly far removed from all this, in a state with a name ironically derived from the Spanish word for “mountain,” was a Big Timber laborer named Bird Vestal, Big Timber painter George Pitcher, and Melrose farmer (or engineer, records vary) Oscar Fallang. In May 1898, these men joined Company L of the First Montana Infantry, a volunteer regiment under the command of Colonel Harry C. Kessler, a Civil War veteran and future one-star general.

The 1st Montana was mustered into service in Helena on May 9, 1898. By the end of the month, it was stationed at Camp Merritt in San Francisco with more than 1000 men. While there, one of the Big Timber enlistees, W.J. Hannah, wrote home as follows:

“Armed with their new Springfield rifles and dressed in new uniforms, the men of the regiment appear second to none…There is very little of the ‘dude’ and ‘prig’ element to be seen among our officers or the soldiers…Although few in number, the Sweet Grass County boys are in evidence on all matters of import…The Montana men are more than anxious to go to the front…This moment the regiment is happier than ever before. Each of the soldiers has received $29.64, his pay for two months’ service, and permission to leave camp until 8:30 p.m.”

Hannah decries some issues with old guns and low rations. But he also remarks that Bird Vestal has “superior marksmanship,” George Pitcher is “unsurpassed by the best men in the regiment,” and Oscar Fallang “is a soldier and a gentleman.”

Late in August, the regiment disembarked at the Philippines, where it served with honor for one year. In a pre-travel age, the Montanans were far from home for 17 months until October 1899, when less than 900 returned. Roughly 40 soldiers had died, 100 had been wounded, and 10 had deserted. The adjutant general’s official report calls these numbers “mute but eloquent evidence” that “war is a serious business.”

Three Local Soldiers

Bird Vestal was five feet, five inches tall, with grey eyes, brown hair, and a “ruddy” complexion. So read his enlistment card, which also said he was 21 years old in 1898. But he might have lied about his age in order to volunteer, given that two other sources note he was born as late as 1882. When Bird was young, his parents James and Harriet moved from Oregon to Montana, where his father became a sheep rancher. Just a few years later, his mother died. Yet he evidently overcame this tragedy as he grew up. His father hosted a party for his 11th birthday, he made the honor roll in school—possibly at Springdale—and at 12 years of age he helped guide some tourists through Yellowstone Park. Besides all this, Bird had three siblings—including his older brother Ora, who also served in the military (hence their first name references).

George Pitcher was born in Fort Ellis. His enlistment card shows he was 26 years old, had brown hair, grey eyes, and a fair complexion. Also, he was five feet, eight inches tall. Pitcher was single before the war, but like Bird and Fallang, married afterward. In Pitcher’s case, marriage ended in a catastrophe—abuse, divorce, drunkenness, and finally his own murder.

Oscar Fallang was the second of six children born to Peter and Inger Fallang. Peter served in the Norwegian Army for a few years until 1873, when he and Inger immigrated to the United States. Oscar was born about two years later in Wisconsin, but eventually Peter started a ranch near Big Timber. According to a biographical sketch on the “Progressive Men of the State of Montana” page on archive.org, Peter “does not belong to any secret society, but is a firm believer and active worker in the Lutheran church.” He shied away from public office more than once, but he did become an early commissioner of Sweet Grass County, albeit refusing pay. Peter felt Montana was “one of the best and most promising [states] in the Union.” Oscar joined Company L at age 23, and had blue eyes, light hair and complexion, and a height of five feet, seven inches.

Fighting in the Philippines

The 1st Montana saw action numerous times in 1899. According to one source, Bird Vestal took part in 23 engagements. In its history of the regiment, the Butte Miner states that at least one unit was in combat each day for six weeks in February and March. On February 23, enemy fire killed Second Lieutenant Eugene S. French, of Company L, while he and his men secured a bridge. He actually tried to help some Filipinos who wanted to surrender, but exposed himself to a shot from the trees in the process. He was the regiment’s only officer to die in battle. The military honored him with a formal funeral—yet he left behind his wife and four-year-old son.

Also in February, Colonel Kessler’s superior officer told him his men were in front of the firing line, when they were supposed to be in reserve. Kessler’s prompt response was as follows: “My compliments to the general and tell him to bring up his firing line.” The 1st Montana stayed put. The same general lauded Kessler’s men as “coyotes” which “nothing can stop.” Time and again the regiment displaced the enemy, inflicting greater casualties than it sustained itself.

The first regiment death resulted from disease in July 1898, a month before going to the Philippines; while the final death came in July 1899, also from disease, a month before leaving the Philippines.

Homecoming

Kessler’s soldiers got a huge “welcome home” when they returned to Montana in October 1899. Dignitaries, the state governor, members of the press, volunteers, and “800 lunch boxes” awaited them in Dillon, their first train stop. To those who were from Dillon, a parade, schoolchildren, an arch, flags, Civil War veterans, and a feast awaited them. A town leader addressed them, saying, “The city is yours. If you see anything you want, take it. If you do not see what you want, ask for it; and it will be given to you.”

In Butte, another party awaited the majority of troops who continued beyond Dillon. And for Big Timber’s six 1st Montana veterans—including Bird, Pitcher, and Fallang—a fundraiser had been under way to prepare the town by October 25. Crowds, live music, family and friends, speeches, a reception, and engraved gold watches were given to the returnees.

The following weeks must have been exciting but strange. The men were home—and away from the fighting and free from orders. They could find regular jobs, live in relative comfort, and even consider marriage. Yet maybe they missed their comrades or their adventures, or some may have felt guilty that others were still fighting, as the war dragged on into the new century. And nobody knows if they had nightmares or other symptoms of post-traumatic stress.

The Fourth Soldier

Ora Vestal was Bird’s oldest sibling. He led an extraordinary life for his day, especially given his location and age. He was popular as a teen. When he turned 15, the Big Timber Pioneer mentions that seven boys and 17 girls attended a surprise birthday party for him—“and with games and dancing the evening was very pleasantly spent.” The following year, Ora played a clown during a city-wide masquerade. Before long, Ora enrolled at Montana Agricultural College—today’s Montana State University—60 miles away in Bozeman. He earned a business degree, one of just two graduates from Big Timber at that time at the College.

Around 1896-1897, Ora left the United States for at least a year. Sources are unclear, but he may have volunteered for the Argentine Navy for a time, and his passport likely acquired a variety of stamps in it. When he returned to Montana in late 1897—not even 18 years old yet—he declared he was “only back on a vacation.” (In those days, the local small-town newspaper regularly identified fairly monotonous, or even personal, details of individuals’ lives and locations.) It was evidently a lengthy vacation, as he started bookkeeping at Big Timber National Bank in January. But by mid-1898, with war under way, he signed up for the American Navy and ended up on the USS Yosemite, which went to Haiti and Cuba. He wrote a letter from Philadelphia to his sister Maud, also cited in the Big Timber Pioneer, just before sailing south. He cheerfully described his office, which had “Brussels carpet and China silk curtains”; his responsibilities, such as “anchors that weigh twenty tons”; and his daily routine, which included chores, drills, and reading “a good book.” His signature affectionately read, “I am yours as ever, Ora Vestal.”

After the war, Ora briefly tried a calm life, becoming a bookkeeper again in May 1899. But even in Montana, it seems he could not settle down, as he spent “a month’s visit in the western part of the state” early that fall. Then in October he joined the Army, and bade farewell to his family for the hundredth time. But his younger brother Bird—whom he had not seen in nearly 18 months—and the 1st Montana were still returning from the Philippines. Amazingly, their mutual transition helped them cross paths in Oregon—Ora going to war, Bird coming home.

Before long Ora became a sergeant, “and was in line for future promotion.” He served honorably with his unit for around six months. In the summer of 1900, the Big Timber Pioneer printed two letters by his fellow soldiers. One called Ora “a soldier if there ever was one, and a friend to all.” He had “an almost superhuman endurance…smiling face…congenial way…utter disregard for self” and a “kind and loving disposition.” Officers and soldiers saw Ora as always “ready to help a weaker comrade, intelligent and self-reliant, always ready to volunteer for any dangerous or arduous duty.” Then in May 1900, at age 21, his accomplished life abruptly ended.

Some of Ora’s men were positioned across a river and had run short of supplies. Ora put supplies into an old local boat and began crossing the river. But the boat filled with water, and Ora started swimming the rest of the way. By all accounts he was a great swimmer, and for a time he and his men called to each other. Then silence. The company made all efforts to rescue him, but without success. They never learned whether a crocodile or an undercurrent brought Ora down.

After the War

Bird Vestal seemed to live a good life after the war. He married May Baxter in Missoula in 1900. A year later he joined the military again. In August 1901, Company C of Montana’s reorganized national guard was mustered in Big Timber, and Bird became First Lieutenant. Whether this unit saw any action, how long Bird was part of it, or whether his brother’s adventures or fate inspired him to reenlist—are unknown. After the armed forces, Bird and May homesteaded near Sumatra, Montana. The Crazy Mountain Museum notes that May became a teacher, but died in 1923. Bird moved to Alaska for several years, but he eventually returned to Montana. He died in Harlowton in 1948.

George Pitcher also joined the respectable Company C in 1901. Five years later, Pitcher married Caroline Watkins, but their marriage had big problems from the start. Less than eight years after their wedding, Pitcher had been in trouble with the law multiple times for beating his wife. They separated by 1913.

On October 7, 1914, George visited Caroline’s house while intoxicated and threatened to kill her. She retorted in kind. Then she noticed him through a window, stepped outside, and shot him. She and a neighbor went over to where George lay on the ground. He died within minutes. In a quick trial, the jury accepted their troubled past and ruled that she killed her ex-husband—but acquitted her of murder.

The day after George Pitcher’s death, the Big Timber Pioneer editorialized the killing as follows: “The Pioneer believes that it but voices the universal sentiment by stating that [the] deceased got simply what he had been looking for, and what he should have gotten years ago.” When Caroline was declared innocent, the paper repeated its earlier opinion, adding, “Comment is unnecessary.”

Less than two years after killing her husband, Caroline was back in jail for 12 days. Using a fake name in Livingston, she and an apparent lover violated contemporary city ordinances by seeking “the use of rooms [sic] for immoral purposes.” During her murder trial, she had used her maiden name, Watkins, but in 1916, the newspaper identified her as “Mrs. Pitcher.” The paper also cited the Big Timber police chief as calling her “a woman of doubtful character.” Ironically, the article just above this one was about efforts to recruit the 2nd Montana Infantry “to full war strength” in order to quell trouble with Mexico.

Maybe coincidentally, the same copy of the Pioneer mentioned one more story regarding George Pitcher. A fellow veteran of the Spanish-American War, John Douglas, petitioned a congressman and a one-star general to rebury Pitcher in a national or military cemetery, rather than the one on the edge of Big Timber. But Douglas’ request was denied due to technicalities. Why he hoped to honor Pitcher in this way is uncertain, especially since his name is not on the 1st Montana roster. Pitcher’s body remains at Mountain View Cemetery. But his white military headstone, which has neither a cross nor dates, is now surrounded by dozens of other soldiers’ headstones from wars in the 20th century.

Oscar Fallang served “with distinction” during his time in the Philippines. But he left the military when Company L came home. In 1900 Sweet Grass County elected him sheriff, a job he held for 14 straight years. On Christmas Day 1902, he married Susan Whitfield, who was a teacher. They had two sons together, before Susan died in 1907. That year Fallang became a charter member of the iconic Big Timber Lutheran Church. His name is on the charter plaque in the main sanctuary, as is one of this author’s great-grandfathers. Fallang remarried in 1911, possibly to Susan’s sister Sarah.

When Fallang became sheriff, “the ‘rustlers’ had the county.” But by the time he retired, the last of the “rustlers” had “disappeared years ago.” The Pioneer praised his service: “Throughout the state he is known as an able, honest, fearless, close-mouthed official, one who has made good in every undertaking.” For much of his remaining life, Fallang went back to agriculture. He died in 1952. Sarah outlived him by a decade.

War and Peace

These men are merely four out of 37 from Sweet Grass County to serve in the Spanish-American and Philippine-American Wars. More than 300,000 Americans served in these ostensibly modest conflicts.

Weeks after World War II, the Fallangs received a letter from Oscar Jr., by then a staff sergeant. After serving in the European Theater, his unit was transferred to the Philippines. But in contrast to his father, Oscar Jr. was on “P.I.” during a time of peace. A year later, the islands gained their independence from all foreign powers.

America’s victory and half-century rule over the Philippines overtly benefited the former more than the latter. Yet the great power politics of the nineteenth century granted small powers like the Philippines little or no room for their own freedom. This trend notably reversed itself in the decades after Americans like Ora and Bird Vestal, George Pitcher, and Oscar Fallang bravely served their country.

(Originally published by the Montana Pioneer.)