25th-Infantry-Division

Near Tay Ninh, Vietnam, November 4, 1966: A soldier stands amid swirling dust from a helicopter arriving to evacuate the wounded after the 1st Battalion, 27th Infantry, 25th Infantry Division came under heavy Viet Cong fire during Operation Attleboro. KIM KI SAM/STARS AND STRIPES

A combat engineer assigned to the 29th Brigade Engineer Battalion, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division, carry Bangalore torpedoes as he rushes to breach an obstacle on Schofield Barracks, Hawaii, on March 25, 2017. The purpose of the training was to clear a wire obstacle so Soldiers could pass through safely. (U.S. Army photo by Staff Sgt. Armando R. Limon, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division)

8

Paratroopers with 1st Squadron, 40th Cavalry Regiment, 4th Infantry Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), 25th Infantry Division, head toward an extraction point after a successful airborne operation in Deadhorse, Alaska, February 22, 2017. The battalion’s Arctic capabilities were tested as temperatures with wind chill reached as low as 63 below zero. (U.S. Army photo by Staff Sgt. Daniel Love)

9

A Kiowa Warrior helicopter hovers during the United States and South Korean Joint live fire Exercise at Rodriguez Range on April 11, 2014 in Pocheon, South Korea. This is a part of annual joint Combined Forces Command and U.S. Forces Korea training exercise known as Foal Eagle, participated by approximately 7,500 forces, intended to prepare the South Korean defence force for any potential action from North Korea.

VIETNAM. 1968-1969. Members of a rifle platoon ready themselves in the field. 

Charlie Haughey was drafted into the US Army in 1967, and served a tour of duty in Vietnam with the 25th Infantry Division 2nd Battalion 12th Infantry, as a rifleman. While serving as a point-man for a rifle company, Charlie was commissioned to be the new battalion photographer, and ended up shooting nearly 2,000 poignant photos over the course of 13 months while he served with his rifle company.

Photograph: Charlie Haughey

Paratroopers jump out of a Nevada Air National Guard C-130H Hercules while conducting airborne training at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, Alaska, April 13, 2017. The Soldiers assigned to 1st Battalion, 501st Parachute Infantry Regiment, 4th Infantry Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), 25th Infantry Division, U.S. Army Alaska, belong to the only American airborne brigade in the Pacific and are trained to execute airborne maneuvers in extreme cold weather/high altitude environments in support of combat, partnership and disaster relief operations. (U.S. Air Force photo by Alejandro Pena)

IRAQ. Nineveh governorate. Tal Afar. January 18, 2005. Samar Hassan, 5, screams after her parents were killed by U.S. soldiers from the 25th Infantry Division. The troops fired on the Hassan family car when it unwittingly approached them during a dusk patrol. Parents Camilla and Hussein Hassan were killed instantly, and a son Raccan, 11, was seriously wounded in the abdomen. Racan, paralysed form the waist down, was latter treated in the U.S.

Chris Hondros was with an army unit when its soldiers killed the parents of this blood-spattered girl at a checkpoint, and his photo was published around the world. Mr. Hondros was kicked out of the unit, though he soon became embedded with a unit in another city.

The following is an excerpt written by Chris Hondros about his photograph. The writing was pulled from his laptop recovered after he was killed on assignment in Libya. 

“At six in Tal Afar, it isn’t yet quite dark. A gloom hung over the roads and alleys with just a little dark blue light from the sky. No one was out. As we made our way up a broad boulevard, in the distance I could see a car making its way toward us. With all the relentless car bombings in Iraq, groups of soldiers are understandably nervous about any cars that approach them, and they do not allow private cars to breech the perimeter of their foot patrols, particularly at night. 

"We have a car coming,“ someone called out, as we entered an intersection. We could see the car about a 100 meters down but I doubt if it could see us—it would be hard to see this group of darkly camouflaged men in the gloom. That already gave me a bad feeling about what might conspire, so I moved over to the side of the road, out of anyone’s line of fire. The car continued coming; I couldn’t see it anymore from my perch but could hear its engine now, a high whine that sounded more like acceleration than slowing down. It was maybe 50 yards away now. “Stop that car!” someone shouted out, seemingly simultaneously with someone firing what sounded like warning shots—a staccato measured burst. The car continued coming. And then perhaps less than a second later a cacophony of fire, shots rattling off in a chaotic overlapping din. The car entered the intersection on its momentum and still shots were penetrating it and slicing it. Finally the shooting stopped, the car drifted listlessly, clearly no longer being steered, and came to a rest on a curb. I stared at it in shocked silence. Soldiers began to approach it warily. The sound of children crying came from the car, and my worst fears were instantly realized. I walked up to the car and a teenaged girl with her head covered emerged from the back, wailing and gesturing wildly. After her came a boy, tumbling onto the ground from the seat, already leaving a pool of blood. “Civilians!” someone shouted, along with a stream of epithets, and soldiers ran up. More children—it ended up being six all told—started emerging, crying, their faces mottled with blood in long streaks. The troops carried them all off to a nearby sidewalk. It was by now almost completely dark. There, working only by lights mounted on ends of their rifles, an Army medic began assessing the children’s injuries, running his hands up and down their bodies like he was frisking them, looking for wounds. Incredibly, the only injuries were a girl with a cut hand and a boy with a superficial gash in the small of his back that was bleeding heavily but wasn’t life-threatening. The medic immediately began to bind it, while the boy crouched against a wall, his face showing more fear than pain. From the sidewalk I could see into the bullet-mottled windshield more clearly, and even my hardened nerves gave a start—the driver of the car, a man, was penetrated by so many bullets that his skull had collapsed, leaving his body grotesquely disfigured. A woman also lay dead in the front, still covered in her Muslim clothing and harder to see. Body bags were found and soldiers grimly set about placing the two bodies in them. 
 Meanwhile, the children continued to wail and scream, huddled against a wall, sandwiched between soldiers either binding their wounds or trying to comfort them. The Army’s translator later told me that this was a Turkoman family and that the teenage girl kept shouting, “Why did they shoot us? We have no weapons! We were just going home!“
 There was a small delay in getting the armored vehicles lined up and ready, and soon the convoy moved to the main Tal Afar hospital. It was fairly large and surprisingly well outfitted, with sober-looking doctors in white coats ambling about its sea-green halls. The young children were carried in by soldiers and by their teenaged sister. Only the boy with the gash on his back needed any further medical attention, and the Army medic and an Iraqi doctor quickly chatted over his prognosis. “Oh, this will be okay,” the Iraqi doctor said in broken English, roughly pulling the skin on the edge of the wound, causing the boy to howl. “We will take care of him fine.” The unit’s captain, Thomas Siebold, was adamant that the children be kept in a waiting room when the body bags, which were waiting outside on gurneys, were brought through the doors to be taken to the morgue. “They’ve seen enough,” he said. “I don’t want them seeing any more tonight.” I thought of Seibold’s office where I’d met up with him earlier, and the picture of his smiling 5-year-old daughter filling the entire desktop of his computer at his desk.”

Photograph: Chris Hondros/Getty Images

THE SONG JOHN BROWN’S BODY - WHERE DID IT COME FROM?

FROM THE CIVIL WAR TO WORLD WAR II THIS SONG HAS INSPIRED MANY VERSIONS-THE TUNE EVENTUALLY BECOMING THE “BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC” MANY HAVE CLAIMED CREDIT!

According to an 1890 account, the original John Brown lyrics were a collective effort by a group of Union soldiers who were referring both to the famous John Brown and also, humorously, to a Sergeant John Brown of their own battalion. Various other authors have published additional verses and/or claimed credit for originating the John Brown lyrics and tune.

At a flag-raising ceremony at Fort Warren, near Boston, on Sunday May 12, 1861, the John Brown song was publicly played “perhaps for the first time”. The American Civil War had begun the previous month.

Newspapers reported troops singing the song as they marched in the streets of Boston on July 18, 1861, and there were a “rash” of broadside printings of the song with substantially the same words as the undated John Brown Song! broadside, stated by Kimball to be the first published edition, and the broadside with music by C. S. Marsh copyrighted on July 16, 1861, also published by C.S. Hall . Other publishers also came out with versions of the John Brown Song and claimed copyright.

  • Some researchers have maintained that the tune’s roots go back to a “Negro folk song”, an African-American wedding song from Georgia
  • An African-American version was recorded as “We’ll hang Jeff Davis from a sour Apple Tree”.
  • Anecdotes indicate that versions of “Say, Brothers” were sung as part of African American ring shouts; appearance of the hymn in this call-and-response setting with singing, clapping, stomping, dancing, and extended ecstatic choruses may have given impetus to the development of the well known “Glory hallelujuah” chorus.
  • Given that the tune was developed in an oral tradition, it is impossible to say for certain which of these influences may have played a specific role in the creation of this tune 

The tune was later also used for “The Battle Hymn of the Republic (written in November 1861, published in February 1862; this song was directly inspired by “John Brown’s Body”), “Marching Song of the First Arkansas,” “The Battle Hymn of Cooperation,” “Bummers, Come and Meet Us” , and many other related texts and knock-offs during and immediately after the American Civil War period.

SOURCES: George Kimball, “Origin of the John Brown Song”, New England Magazine, new series 1 (1890) , Blood on the Risers From Wikipedia, James Fuld, 2000 The Book of World-Famous Music: Classical, Popular, and Folk Courier Dover, Pg 32. 

8

Soldiers with U.S. Army Alaska’s 1st Battalion (Airborne), 501st Infantry Regiment, 4th Infantry Brigade Combat Team (Airborne), 25th Infantry Division, conducts close quarter battle drills with Japanese soldiers from the 27th Infantry Regiment, 5th Brigade, Northern Army, Japan Ground Self-Defense Force during military operations on urban terrain as part of Exercise North Wind 2015 at Yausubetsu Training Area, Hokkaido, Japan, Feb. 12, 2015. 

VIETNAM. 1968-1969. A formation of helicopters from the 116th Division “Hornets”.

Charlie Haughey was drafted into the US Army in 1967, and served a tour of duty in Vietnam with the 25th Infantry Division 2nd Battalion 12th Infantry, as a rifleman. While serving as a point-man for a rifle company, Charlie was commissioned to be the new battalion photographer, and ended up shooting nearly 2,000 poignant photos over the course of 13 months while he served with his rifle company.

Photograph: Charlie Haughey