Cheyenne's Jim Casey becomes first honorary member of 10th Special Forces Group
CHEYENNE — The 10th Special Forces Group (Airborne) welcomed its first honorary member into the group Thursday.
Command Sergeant Major (Retired) Luke Emanuel, previously assigned to 10th SFG(A), said the group doesn't usually make exceptions, but that Jim Casey is an exceptional man.
Casey is the president of Halladay Motors in Cheyenne. Although he has never served in the military, it has always been an important part of his life since his father moved his family to Cheyenne to work at F.E. Warren Air Force Base.
'I'm very honored, but, you know, I'm humbled too, because the men and women that serve and what they sacrifice and what they give is what really matters,' Casey said after being inducted into the group.
Emanuel was one of the founding members of the 10th SFG(A) in 1952 in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, after he returned from the Korean War. He said the group was created to continue the duties of the First Special Service Force after World War II. The FSSF was an elite joint American-Canadian commando unit attached to the United States Fifth Army.
The 10th SFG(A) is the oldest Special Forces Group in the country. Its original mission was to conduct partisan warfare, using small, independent forces, behind enemy lines in the event of a Soviet bloc invasion of western Europe.
In 1991, the 10th SFG(A) was deployed to Saudi Arabia during the first Persian Gulf War and has been heavily involved in the War on Terror, deploying consistently to Iraq and other countries. Although their operations are classified, Emanuel said the group operates in 141 different countries.
Casey was inducted as an honorary member after making a generous donation to the group's charitable fund, though he did not disclose how much that was. The charitable fund is used to support families who have lost loved ones in the SFG(A).
'He is a special person,' Emanuel said of Casey. 'He likes to contribute to different charities all over Cheyenne. He's been doing it for many years.'
The pair have been friends for around 30 years, and Emanuel said Casey sold him his first car, a Nissan Maxima.
Emanuel also presented Casey with a green beret similar to the ones members of the 10th SFG(A) wear and artwork of a Trojan horse, the insignia of the group.
According to the United States Army Special Forces Command History Office, the Trojan horse insignia was chosen to represent a similarity between the techniques of the original Trojan horse and the operations of the 10th SFG(A).
'Surreptitious entry, undercover placement for a while, and then coming out and doing your thing,' 2nd Lt. Timothy G. Gannon told the History Office.
The 10th SFG(A) is now based at Fort Carson in Colorado.
'I get the privilege to live in this great country and to have my life I have because of guys like Luke and those young men and women that are down there,' Casey said.
He previously told the WTE that Halladay's Buick, Cadillac, GMC, Nissan and Subaru dealership is involved with more than 100 charitable organizations, and has contributed more than $4 million in financial support to local organizations.
After graduating from Cheyenne's Central High School in 1979, Casey attended the University of Wyoming. One semester before graduating college, he took some time off and got a job selling cars.
Casey began his career as a finance manager at a Ford store in Cheyenne. He moved to Halladay Motors in 1990, where he remained for 10 years before taking a general sales manager position at Fremont Motor Company in Sheridan.
In 2007, Casey returned to Halladay Motors as general sales manager and worked his way from general manager to vice president to eventually buying the dealership.
In 2024, he was nominated for the TIME Dealer of the Year award by the Wyoming Automobile Dealers Association.
Casey is also on the board of the St. Mary's School Foundation and the Parish Pastoral Council for the Cathedral of St. Mary, and has served on the boards of the Greater Cheyenne Chamber of Commerce and the COMEA House and Resource Center homeless shelter.
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CNN
28 minutes ago
- CNN
Once home to the CIA, this tiny Southeast Asia runway was considered ‘the most secret place on Earth'
Deep in the sweltering jungles of central Laos, a 4,500-foot stretch of cracked concrete cuts through the trees — an airstrip without an airport, in a village where many have never been on a plane. But behind its crumbling control tower and bomb-cratered runway lies a hidden chapter of America's Cold War history — a site once known as 'the most secret place on Earth.' The village of Long Tieng sits in central Laos, about 80 miles northeast of the capital, Vientiane. Today, it's a sleepy settlement of a few thousand people who mostly rely on the land to carve out a living. There are a couple of restaurants, two guesthouses and a handful of multipurpose shops selling everything from rice to farming tools made from repurposed bombshell metal — a nod to the village's agricultural roots and wartime past. At the village center lies the airstrip. It no longer serves aircraft, instead now functioning as a kind of outdoor community center: children ride scooters, farmers herd cattle and elderly villagers take early morning strolls before the intense heat engulfs the valley. But 50 years ago, the scene was vastly different. From the 1960s to the early 1970s, Laos played a central role in the United States' fight to stop the spread of communism in Southeast Asia. Long Tieng was the secret headquarters of a US-backed Hmong anti-communist army fighting against the communist Pathet Lao forces, which were supported by the North Vietnamese Army. At its height, tens of thousands of inhabitants — Hmong soldiers, their families, refugees from other parts of Laos, Thai soldiers and a small contingent of American CIA operatives and secret US Air Force pilots, dubbed 'Ravens' — called this place home. It was the heart of the largest paramilitary operation ever conducted by the CIA. At one point in time, the tiny airstrip handled 900 daily take-offs and landings, making it one of the busiest airports in the world. Cargo planes would offload crucial supplies including ammunition and food, which would then be loaded onto smaller planes that flew to even smaller airstrips around the country. Despite the scale of the base, it was so secret even some of those participating in the war in other locations did not know of its existence, says Paul Carter, a Laos Secret War specialist who lives in Southeast Asia. 'The war in Laos was so compartmentalized … I knew guys who participated in that war, they did not even know Long Tieng existed until the late 1960s when they started letting the reporters in there,' he tells CNN. From this remote mountain village, the CIA-backed Hmong army, led by the charismatic General Vang Pao, fought not only the communist Pathet Lao forces but also conducted guerrilla operations — destroying North Vietnamese supply depots, blowing up critical supply routes and generally harassing communist forces — all with full support from the US. As part of this secret war, the US launched a brutal bombing campaign that paralleled its broader military operations in Vietnam. And because international agreements barred direct military involvement in Laos, the effort fell almost entirely on the CIA. American pilots flew thousands of missions from Long Tieng's airstrip, which was known by the codenames Lima Site 98 and Lima Site 20A. Fifty years after the fall of Long Tieng in 1975, I set out to explore the remnants of the US presence in the area. I was drawn here after reading the book, 'A Great Place to Have a War' by Joshua Kurlantzick. It pulled me into a world I'd never known — a hidden Cold War battleground on the sidelines of the Vietnam War. Watching old, grainy newsreels of reporters wandering around the base only deepened my fascination. Somewhere along the way, I realized I needed to see Long Tieng with my own eyes. Before long, I find myself in Vientiane with an old college friend who I've convinced to come along for an adventure and Mr. Pao — the only driver I could find with a car suitable for the journey. Pao says he used to work at the mines near Long Tieng and is familiar with the area, though he admits he's only visited the village once before. Several tour companies organize trips, but the number of tourists that visit Long Tieng still pales in comparison to Laos' major tourist destinations like Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng. Chris Corbett, owner of Laos Adv Tours and Rentals, tells CNN that his company operates around 10 motorbike tours a year to the site, taking a total of around 40 people to the village. He said his guests mainly come from the United States, Australia and Europe. Today, the village remains largely cut off from the rest of the country. Though just 80 miles from Vientiane, the drive takes over eight hours. Beyond the capital's outskirts, roads quickly degrade — first into unsealed dirt tracks, then into rugged mining roads scarred by landslides and potholes. Visibility is often poor — dust kicked up by mining trucks combines with smoke from slash-and-burn agriculture. At times, we crawl forward, barely reaching 5 mph. Part of the road winds over a rugged mountain pass with no guardrails, just a sheer drop into the valley below. Sitting in the back of the car, I grip the seat in front of me as our driver edges closer to the cliffside, the tires skimming loose gravel. At one point, our driver glances back and warns us that if we get a flat tire out here, we'll likely be stuck for a long time — maybe hours. There's no phone signal. We nod silently and keep going. As we approach Long Tieng, the rough dirt road suddenly gives way to smooth pavement. Cresting the final mountain pass, we expect to glimpse the airstrip — but thick smoke shrouds the valley, limiting visibility to a few hundred meters. Descending into the village as the sun sets, there's little sign that 30,000 people once lived here. Family farms now occupy land once filled with barracks and command centers. Military convoys have long been replaced by scooters and cattle. We stay in a guesthouse next to the airstrip. It's barebones — a wooden bed and a single creaky fan that spins with little effect. There's no air conditioning, and the humid air hangs heavy and unmoving. It's hard to sleep — not just because of the heat, but because I can't stop thinking about what this place had once been. The next morning, we walk down the center of the airstrip as the sun rises over the valley. Once one of the busiest runways in the world, it now lies silent. Tall grass sprouts from potholes left by artillery strikes. The crumbling control tower is only half its original height, and the hangars at the far end sit abandoned — rusting reminders of a war long past. As I walk along its length, I notice the absence of signposts, statues or any form of commemoration. Despite the airstrip's historical importance, there's nothing to mark it. Among those who operated out of Long Tieng during the war were the Ravens, a secret group of active-duty Air Force pilots who volunteered to serve in Laos. Their primary role was to act as forward air controllers (FACs), flying low behind enemy lines to identify and mark targets for US Air Force bombers. 'They were just kind of taken off the books,' Carter says. 'They operated under a different cover.' The Ravens wore civilian clothing and were issued US Embassy ID cards. In some cases, Carter notes, pilots were also issued US Agency for International Development (USAID) identity cards. The Ravens often flew in pairs — an American pilot in front and a local Hmong 'backseater' who communicated with ground forces. But they weren't alone over the skies of Laos. Pilots from Air America, a secret CIA-owned airline, also operated in Long Tieng; they flew in crucial supplies to the base and conducted daring search and rescue missions to recover downed pilots deep behind enemy lines. 'I landed there pretty much every other day,' Neil Hansen, a pilot stationed in Laos during part of the war, tells CNN. Hansen worked for Air America between 1964 and 1973 and detailed his experience in the book, 'FLIGHT: An Air America Pilot's Story of Adventure, Descent and Redemption.' 'I was flying a C-123, bringing in munitions, supplies and fuel for 'the little birds,' which would then distribute it to other sites,' Hansen recalls. As part of his mission, he also transported 'CIA customers.' During one flight in 1972, Hansen was shot down over the Plateau de Bolevan in southern Laos. 'After getting my crew out and bailing out, I watched the C-123 fall out of the sky and explode,' he says, noting he was rescued by Air America helicopters shortly after. About 100 meters west of the airstrip stands a two-story house that once served as the headquarters of General Vang Pao, the leader of the CIA-backed Hmong army. From this remote compound, Pao worked closely with American operatives to coordinate a covert war, marshaling thousands of Hmong fighters while receiving US air support, weapons and humanitarian aid in return. Set behind a tall fence and overgrown garden, the house still feels separated from the rest of the village — distant, guarded. A sign on the front door, written in English, reads: 'No entry without permission.' It's the only English sign we've seen in the entire village, and it stops us in our tracks. With no one around, we circle the property, peering through dusty windows, unsure whether we can get inside. An older man in weathered military fatigues appears nearby. Without saying a word, he approaches, slowly dangling a key in front of our faces. He doesn't speak English, but types out a number on his phone. We nod and hand over the cash. A moment later, we're inside. The house is not what I expected. I'd imagined a preserved time capsule, cluttered with mementos or forgotten artifacts — but the rooms are eerily empty. No furniture, no decorations, no posters or portraits of the general. In the foyer, dozens of artillery shells are stacked neatly in one corner, with several mortar rounds resting nearby. It's surreal to see these instruments of war arranged with such quiet precision. Through a translation app, the man warns us not to touch anything — some might still be live. Upstairs, a single wooden desk and chair have been placed near a panoramic window facing the airstrip. I sit down, imagining General Vang Pao and CIA officers in this very spot, directing B-52 bombing runs on communist strongholds. The war — so vast, so devastating — had largely been coordinated from this small, simple room. It was almost impossible to reconcile the scale of the conflict with the modesty of this setting. We climb up to the roof. From there, the view stretches across the old airstrip and into the mountains that once shielded Long Tieng from attack. Today, the village is quiet. A few people walk slowly down the main road. Stray dogs nap in the sun. It's hard to believe that tens of thousands of people once lived here. Today, the impacts of the intense US bombing campaign on Laos are still being felt. Of the 270 million sub-munitions dropped on the country, an estimated 30% did not detonate, according to the Mines Advisory Group (MAG). These unexploded ordnances continue to kill, injure and hinder development across the country, according to MAG. Around the hills of Long Tieng, villagers still rarely venture off established roads and trails to avoid unexploded munitions. Full US-Laos relations were restored in 1992 and since 1995, the US has invested more than $390 million in a Conventional Weapons Destruction program aimed at addressing the legacy of the war. However, questions remain about future US funding of explosive ordinance clearance in Southeast Asia following the Trump administration's widespread suspension of foreign aid. 'I fell in love with Laos,' says Hansen. 'I look back on my time as exciting and a place where I could immerse myself in the culture. I was fulfilling a purpose where I knew I was accomplishing something that was needed.' Back in Long Tieng, children riding scooters zoom past my friend and me, their tires bumping over the broken concrete that once launched warplanes into the sky. I now understand why the community gravitates toward the airstrip whenever they can: it's one of the few open spaces cleared of unexploded ordnance. A rare place where children can play without fear of becoming another casualty of a war that ended 50 years ago. The legacy of a secret conflict — barely remembered back in the United States.
Yahoo
40 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Semaine Québécoise de la Paternité - June 9-15 - Giving a voice to immigrant fathers
MONTREAL, June 9, 2025 /CNW/ - Difficulty in getting a decent job, adjusting to parenthood, family isolation – these are just a few of the many challenges facing immigrant fathers, whose immigration plans are often driven by the desire to offer their children and family a better future. To mark the Semaine Québécoise de la Paternité, Regroupement pour la Valorisation de la Paternité (RVP) is seeking to zero in on these challenges. With the support of a scientific committee, RVP analyzed data from the Québec Parenting Survey (QPS), a population-based survey conducted by the Institut de la statistique du Québec. Together with a close look at the results of several Quebec studies of immigrant fathers and their families, this brought to light four major issues: Immigrant fathers are better educated but poorer According to QPS data, 63% of immigrant fathers have a university degree, almost twice the proportion of Canadian-born fathers (34%), yet they are three times as likely to belong to a low-income household (26% of immigrant fathers, compared with 8% of Canadian-born fathers). "Access to employment to support the family is one of the most critical obstacles in their path, particularly in the first years as newcomers. Often, however, they suffer a loss of professional status, owing to the non-recognition of foreign credentials or the experience they gained in their home country, that forces them into precarious employment," stated Saïd Bergheul, a professor at Université du Québec en Abitibi-Témiscamingue and a specialist in issues relating to immigrant fathers. Fathers derive greater satisfaction from their role as parents but experience greater parental stress Overall, 42% of immigrant fathers surveyed for the QPS reported a high level of satisfaction with their role as fathers, compared with 21% of Canadian-born fathers. However, more of them experience high parental stress (24% vs 20%). "For fathers, immigration often means new ways of looking after their children, but also the need to adapt their parenting practices. These fathers report greater involvement in their children's upbringing, as well as in helping them with schoolwork and their leisure and social activities. On the other hand, many fathers express incomprehension or fear about certain aspects of education in Quebec," explains Christine Gervais, a professor at Université du Québec en Outaouais and an immigration specialist. The people in their various circles are less available to help them Left without the support of their extended family back home, and often with a more limited social network, fathers and mothers from a migrant background often have to cope with a lack of support in their parenting role. Among the fathers who took part in the QPS, 59% said that the people in their various circles were not available to help them – a proportion twice as high as for Canadian-born fathers (28%). They have a stronger co-parenting relationship Compared with Canadian-born fathers, more immigrant fathers surveyed in the QPS reported high levels of support from their spouses (66% of immigrant fathers, compared with 51% of Canadian-born fathers). They are also more likely to say they are seldom or never criticized by their spouse (57% vs. 52%). "As a result of immigration, parents grow closer and feel that in the absence of their extended family they have to help each other get by. Many fathers thus become their spouse's main source of support during the transition to parenthood. They learn their new role with the help of their spouse," stated Christine Gervais. Welcoming and supporting immigrant fathers To better welcome and support immigrant fathers, RVP proposes the following: Provide better support for integrating immigrant fathers into their jobs, and help them to meet their family's basic needs; Support immigrant fathers in adapting to their role as fathers, and promote the father-child bond through appropriate interventions; Support the co-parenting relationship and its transformation, in particular by paying attention to each parent's specific circumstances; Help mitigate the effects of lack of support from extended family and friends by developing strategies with organizations that support immigrant families, including better promotion of and access to services and resources. "If immigrant fathers and their families are to find their place in our society, we must be sensitive to their realities and the very real challenges they face. The best way to do this is to give them their say and to listen to them attentively. They really have a lot to tell us, a big contribution to make," stated Raymond Villeneuve, executive director of Regroupement pour la Valorisation de la Paternité. What about the language question? According to EQP data, 85% of immigrant fathers in Quebec are able to carry on a conversation in French. However, 37% of them speak English and other languages at home, a proportion that increases to 45% for fathers who arrived in Canada less than 5 years ago. To meet the needs of immigrant fathers, it is important to take this reality into account. We invite you to consult the analysis and proposals document entitled Mieux comprendre la diversité des réalités des pères issus de l'immigration afin de mieux les soutenir et valoriser leur apport à la société québécoise. QPS highlights : About Regroupement pour la Valorisation de la Paternité RVP is a group of 250 organizations and individuals from all regions of Quebec whose mandate is to promote father engagement for the well-being of children, with a focus on family and with respect for gender equality. RVP's objective is to enable the integration of father-inclusive practices into family services and public policies in "For my kids and my family – building a hopeful future here"13th edition of the Semaine Québécoise de la Paternité The 13th edition of the Semaine Québécoise de la Paternité takes place June 9 to 15, 2025 on the theme "For my kids and my family – building a hopeful future here." The theme was developed based on what immigrant fathers themselves said as well as on the testimonies of people who work with them. It reflects the motivation of the vast majority of Quebec fathers of immigrant origin. The theme of SQP 2025 is to make Quebec society more aware of the realities experienced by immigrant fathers, so that collectively we can better help and support them. SOURCE Regroupement pour la Valorisation de la Paternité View original content:
New York Post
42 minutes ago
- New York Post
You're saying these Long Island towns wrong — even the ones you think you know: ‘Butchered'
This will have you spit out your 'cawffee.' It's a dead giveaway that someone isn't from Long Island if they bungle how to pronounce local communities – but it turns out even 516 and 631 lifers are doing it wrong. Teams like the New York Islanders and Long Island Ducks even post videos of out-of-town players brutally mincing Wantagh, Patchogue and other Native-American names. Advertisement 6 The New York Islanders and Long Island Ducks post videos of out-of-town players brutally mincing Wantagh, Patchogue and other Native-American names. Heather Khalifa for the NY Post But you may not have to venture far to find folks messing up Massapequa and Ronkonkoma, which have been anglicized over the past few centuries. Their real pronunciations sound unrecognizable to the modern ear, according to former longtime Unkechaug Nation Chief Harry Wallace, an expert in Algonquian. 'Our language wasn't written in the sense of being translated into English or French — the sound is what they're trying to copy,' Wallace, based on on the island, told The Post. Advertisement He compared how Algonquian is the root base of many different Native American languages, some of which were spoken on Long Island, much like the Romance languages, such as French, Spanish, and Italian, all of which stem from Latin. However, during colonial times, much was lost in translation because the European settlers 'didn't know how to spell,' especially with hard consonants like the letter 'H,' which are vital to the Algonquian language, he added. From there, readers would only see, but not hear, the real pronunciation. Ultimately, it turned into a telephone game that has been ongoing for a few hundred years. Advertisement Wallace recognizes that there's no one official way to sound out some towns, such as Wantagh, which islanders say as 'wan-tah.' And the local way of saying Patchogue as 'patch-hog' is pretty close to its origin, he said. These, however, are some Native American-named local towns that even the most bona fide residents are getting wrong, according to Wallace. Copiague 6 Algonquian is the root base of many different Native American languages, some of which were spoken on Long Island. Copiague Chamber of Commerce / Facebook Advertisement Townsfolk and the recorded voice on the Long Island Railroad alike sound out this Suffolk community as 'co-peg,' but really it should be pronounced closer to 'co-pi-ah-e' with a short 'I' and long 'E,' he explained. '[Europeans] would elongate the A when they read it…and that's all they would hear after,' Wallace added of what translates loosely to grove or forest. Massapequa 6 As with other Algonquin hard consonants, the real sound is 'Mass-a-peek' without the open vowels at the end. Massapequa Park / Facebook The town that has caught the eye of President Trump over as it fights to keep its Chiefs team logo in the face of a state ban on Native American mascots isn't straightforwardly pronounced 'Mass-a-pequa,' said Wallace, who opposes the school using the name. As with other Algonquin hard consonants, the real sound is 'Mass-a-peek' without the open vowels at the end, he added, explaining that it means place of great water. Cutchogue 6 While it's spoken today as 'cutch-hog,' Wallace said the real way is 'cutch-e-hoki,' spelled as 'kecheahki.' Alamy Stock Photo Unlike Patchogue, residents aren't remotely close to getting the pronunciation of the quiet North Fork escape spot on. While it's spoken today as 'cutch-hog,' Wallace said the real way is 'cutch-e-hoki,' spelled as 'kecheahki.' Advertisement In the same vein as Massapequa, it translates to mean great place. Setauket 6 Wallace says it as 'Se-tau-ah-ki' and added its definition is place of streams, something the north shore enclave by the Long Island Sound is known for. Alamy Stock Photo Similar to Cutchogue, Setauket, spoken like Secaucus in New Jersey, is a world apart from its perceived pronunciation. Wallace says it as 'Se-tau-ah-ki' and added its definition is place of streams, something the north shore enclave by the Long Island Sound is known for. Ronkonkoma Advertisement 6 Its prototypical 'Ron-cahnk-ama' pronunciation — which Neil Patrick Harris projected on the LIRR 2 a.m. drunk train in a sitcom — should be 'Ronkon-koman.' James Messerschmidt That's right, Long Island's showstopper that's been a punchline on 'How I Met Your Mother' and an Artie Lange monologue on an insufferable Yankees fan 'has been butchered,' Wallace said. Its prototypical 'Ron-cahnk-ama' pronunciation — which Neil Patrick Harris projected on the LIRR 2 a.m. drunk train in the sitcom — should be 'Ronkon-koman,' he explained. Advertisement The town name derives from its kettle lake, formed by the glacier that carved North America, which was sacred to its native population. One translation for Ronkonkoma is 'deep cavern place' in reference to the lake, which is tied to urban legends of hauntings and drownings attributed to a Native American-related curse — a story Wallace has explicitly called bunk on.
