king' s outdoor world - Index

king' s outdoor world - Best of 2007 Feb-March 2008 - Index

Ted Nugent
Wheels up, 2:30 p.m.
Eastern Time, November
2nd, 2007, we take
off in the pouring rain,
departing straight out of
the U.S. Naval Base in
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.
Our USAF DC9 is once
again loaded to the
hilt with weapons
of mass rock-n-roll
construction as my
hearty bandmates,
crew and I take
off from the
U.S. warrior
epicenter on
this communist
island. We
are headed
homebound,
back to my
sacred Michigan deer
camp and swamp grounds. We
have just spent three rather
frustrating, yet spiritually
invigorating days with the hero
warriors of the U.S. Navy, Army,
Air Force, Coast Guard, National
Guard and Marine Corps - right
here on one of the many frontlines
of freedom. Our hopes included
a good, old-fashioned, rock-
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FACTOR
GITMO SPIRIT
BLOODBROTHERS
n-roll hellraiser concert
of the highest order -
performing the heart and
soul battle cry soundtrack
for the greatest warriors
ever known to mankind.
My entire tribe went to
great lengths to reorganize and
manipulate personal schedules in
order to join the ol’ Whackmaster
on this intense freedom celebration
adventure. My band and
many of my
master sound
and stage
technicians
had to come
from Europe
and beyond so
that they could
show their sincere
appreciation for
the military’s
great sacrifi ces.
I had left deer
camp during the
electric rut days of
Halloween, November
1st and 2nd, surely
the three most
magic deer
hunting days
of the year in Michigan.
However, this was nowhere
near the sacrifi ces made
by the great U.S. Military
Warriors. This was only a trip
to say thank you to this, one of
the few groups of people that
could possibly tear me away
from my deer grounds at this
time. I did it without hesitation
and I’d do it again. But, these
three days are mystical to say
the least.
Alas, Mother Nature, as
she is want to do, threw us a
vicious left hook with a savage
tropical torrent raging throughout
the Caribbean and, though we
persevered with much gusto and
eventually made it to Gitmo, the
intense storm surge prevented all
but my manager and assistant to
join me and Admiral Bianchi on
a treacherous fl ooded Hummer
ride through dangerous high
waters to the Navy speedboat
that sped us across angry seas
to the wayward side of the Gitmo
bay. Ugh. At least I was able
to hang onto the Ma Deuce .50
cal and a pair of ..308 M240s for
hardware enjoyment. Improvise,
adapt and overcome indeed.
Though not able to
perform, I was