I am grateful to learn more.
“There is a Patton Museum right outside the entrance to Joshua Tree,” Mom exclaimed, somewhat incredulously. I understand why because what on earth is it doing out there? We’ve been to the Patton Museum of Leadership at Fort Knox (which I guess used to have more weapons and war rhetoric when Fort Knox was home to Armor, but changed to the Museum of Leadership when the Army Human Resources Command Center re-located to Fort Knox from D.C. and Armor moved to Fort Benning. Personally, I would have rather seen it with the Armor-influenced exhibits because the new leadership slant requires a lot more reading.). The Fort Knox museum is fairly large with a lot of static displays. What could possibly be left to send to the desert? As it turns out, a lot.
The site for the Patton Museum in Chiriaco Summit (near Indio for anyone driving through after picking up a date shake and hopping a ride on the Palm Springs tram) sits on the Desert Training Center, where Patton commanded troops who were training for battle in Africa during World War II. I guess Africa and the Mojave/Sonoran Deserts are twinsies, much in the way that parts of California resemble Afghanistan. I’m not sure when the General Patton Memorial Museum was created, but it’s impressive given the fact that it’s really just one guy working to acquire artifacts that are tied to the Desert Training Center. And, whatever his background is, he has managed to lay it out in a way that is interesting, thought-provoking and gets the point across without laborious reading. Since having a child, that has become an important characteristic in a museum for me.
Outside, the Matzner Tank Pavilion and Tank Yard includes equipment from several eras, including the tank that Neal trained on back in the day (which is roughly 143 years ago if you ask Blue). We get so few opportunities to see these things together that I really do soak up every moment that I can to see exhibits through his eyes. He can tell you what this cable is for and what that rack holds. He can show you how to steer, how to stop, how to roll right over something in the way (but…like a rock, not a small child). I always wonder if he is triggered by anything else…the smell of the paint, the way it sounds on the move. None of this is part of my past so I listen to his stories and I take the pictures, but there is nothing for me to re-live.
I can see how men and women in the military would find each other, find comfort in the same experiences. If I was also in the service, I would be able to laugh about that one time I was stuck in a tank and had to pee so bad but 3 other people were within a foot of me. Or how we had that one harrowing night of sleeping on the top because we were stuck en route to a FOB. We would have those moments we could share while we close out everyone else around us. That’s a pretty significant part of Neal’s life that I appreciate but do not fully grasp. Fortunately, he spends an equal amount of time building memories with us that we can re-live and laugh about later. When we went to Sequoia and dry-camped but everything broke so by the end of the week we were basically living in a glorified tent. How it rained sideways for 3 days during a camping trip in Pennsylvania but we just sloshed through. What the Milky Way looks like from the darkest park on the eastern seaboard. By the time he’s done, Neal will have 40 years in the military and only about 20 years with me. But then the military part will end and I will go on. So, I win. In the meantime, he can take me to a tank yard any day.