SOCNET - The Special Operations Community Network - TAPS SFC Randall L. Lamberson (former 1st ID LRSD and 1-508 trooper)

Here's something that one of our LRSD brothers (who is now a school teacher BTW) put on our site. He served with Lambo in Panama w. the 508th and in Desert Storm w/ LRSD. It's long but a good tribute.

[COLOR="Blue"]None of us are 20 something anymore. Most of us aren't anyway. But to me, Randall Lamberson will always be that mid-twenties guy that exists only in memories, from a time and place so far away in my mind that nobody has been allowed to go there.

Hell, even I have had to stay out of that place for a long time. But when I heard about what happened to Lambo, it all came back. Imagine that - two worlds colliding at the least expected moment. Shit, I'm a 35 year old history teacher/football coach/basketball coach trying to get by. I paint my living room for excitement during the off season, and I go on April Vacation like the kids do. I get to hang out at school all day, shape minds and put my spin on history.

I don't talk about the world I came from. But today, I feel like writing about a guy who was a big part of who I used to be. A big part of why I got the opportunity to become a better person. Tonight, I'm going to write about Lambo.

Our First Encounter

Anyone who has ever seen Lambo's face when he is thinking about something knows the look. Eyes kind of squinted, lips together in a quarter of a grin. He's sizing you up. He's trying to figure out how he's going to test you.

Back in November of 1989, I saw that face for the first time. I just got to Panama, and the shit was getting ready to hit the fan. He'd been there for a while already. We were in the 508th Airborne, and on that night, Lambo decided to take the new guys out to the back field - under the lights - in the muddy grass - for a game of "smear the queer". Kill the man with the football. Now, I coach defensive backs to this day. Nobody on my team can lay a hit like Lambo did. And nobody had a harder head than the ex-boxer from Missouri, who emulated Sugar Ray Leonard when he fought. After taking more hits on my body than this website has taken, Lambo accepted me into his fold. It was a good place to be.

A Friend “for life”

If he liked you, it was like All State Insurance: “You were in good hands“. If he hated you, you were on your own, brother.

You knew he liked you when he brought that bottle of Jack down the hall, and split the 5th with you. You knew he liked you when he hailed a cab to go into the red district, where soldiers weren't supposed to go - and you felt safe, because - hey ---it was Lambo you were rollin' with.

And when the shit hit the fan on December 20th, 1989, guess where my ass was: find Lambo, and look two inches to his right. If I was goin' down, it was going to be with the best. That was Lambo - the best. The thing is, about 15 other dudes agreed to the point that Lambo had a platoon full of cherries attatched to him like a fucking congo line at a Jewish wedding. It's amazing any of us made it.

Crazy Black Pajama Guy…

Picture this: Lamberson had this pajama-like jumpsuit that was all black and zipped up the back. On the front of the black jump suit, head to toe, was a printed set of human bones - like a skeleton. One night in Panama, we saw these Panamanian kids on the field in the back. Those kids always pissed us off. Lambo put on that black skeleton suit, slipped out the back door, and chased those little mother f**kers around with a machette - screamin' and hollerin' God knows what. That was a sight to see, man. Every now and them he'd do some crazy shit like that.

Hook Ups

In the field, there wasn't a more "squared away" soldier. He knew his shit, he knew your shit, and he knew that you didn't know your shit. How many people ever got to use his poncho in the pouring rain? How many people ever ran out of water in Yuma, and he'd let you have some of his (for ten bucks, but what the hell). Who built the fire when your feet were freezing in a Kansas field and pulled your guard shift because he knew you were too tired. Who leant you money when you were flat-assed broke? Yeah, if you were in the 508th or the LRSD 101MI in the early 90's, chances are he hooked you up. Maybe you never even knew it. But that was Lambo. Lambo with the silent grin

Leaving Panama for the LRSD

I remember one day back in 1990, it was probably May - but Lambo was leaving us and going to a new place - Fort Riley, Kansas. We all acted like the day was never going to come, because nobody wanted to see the day when Lambo wasn't there anymore. But the day came. And so when he asked me to tag along in the hoochie-cab, to the airport where he'd be flying out from, I went. It was sad, though, because I knew I'd be going back to Fort Kobbe without him. I figured I would never see him again, at least for a long time.

I had six months to go in Panama, and Lambo was heading to some place called Kuwait with some group called the LRSD.

It's funny the things you miss. That laugh, egging you on when you were making fun of some pogue in the mess hall. That beret, with the unique, Lambo-swooping motion that covered his right eye and looked like the Rolling Stones tongue as it curved down. That landing strip haircut always perfect. Those moles on his face that he'd kick your ass if you made a connect the dots comment about - but it was worth the ass kicking.

Reunion Interrupted
As fate would have it, I got my orders six months later. I, too, was headed for Fort Riley Kansas. They were getting ready to deploy, and if I made it on time, I could go, too. I had two weeks leave out of Panama, and I went home - back to the real world I escaped from a year before. Now I don't know about anyone elses upbringing, but I know life isn't fair.

I work with kids who are abused everyday. Boys get knocked around by Dad all the time - I know I did. But when it comes to girls, I take that shit personally. I will teach your kid all about World War two. I will coach your kid to the state finals. I will let your kid score his 1000th point and stop the game to give him that ball. But I will protect your kid if I think that some shit is going on at home.

Back in 1990, that was what was happening in my house. When I went back home, I walked right into it. It took me a lot of pride swallowing to deal with it, and more time than I was allowed to have. But I did. And I got back to Fort Riley. But the LRSD was gone. My reunion with Lambo would have to wait.

Waiting for Extraction / Runnin’ with (Edited for PERSEC)

For some people, Hell is a place of fire and a pointy eared devil. For some, it's riding on a bus for eternity listening to Cold Play on repeat for ever and ever - oh, and sitting next to Oprah. But for me, it was being stuck on a 113 with four pogues from a unit in Germany, waiting for the LRSD to come get my ass. But that was how I spent Desert Storm.

As it turned out, we saw more action than I would have if I were with the LRSD. We were at Medina ridge. But I hated those bastards. They were fat, whiney bitches and they listened to the Scorpions.

One night, some guy from Division came and got me the hell off that track, brought me for an all-night ride out to where the LRSD was. "Welcome home" he said. "You're fucked."

Some guy named (Edited for PERSEC) was lifting weights on a make-shift bench. He was told to bring me for a run. He was in PT gear. I was in dirty green BDUs, with a rifle and full gear. It was 120 degrees. My hair was long and I hadn't shaven in a week. I looked like one of those Ahkbars we were fighting. Smelled worse.

(Edited for PERSEC) decided that the run would be with me and all my gear, rifle too. We were going over the berm.

After about a mile (seemed like 100), (Edited for PERSEC) stopped and said "you want to hit me".

I said "This is all a game, man, so the answer is 'no' ".

That pissed him off "All a game?" "All a fucking game?".

Well, we got into it verbally, and told me that if I wanted to shoot him then I had one shot, but he'd kill me if I missed.
To this day, I don't know if (Edited for PERSEC) knew that when I came over from the 113 that night, my weapon was loaded. And it still was.

As it turned out, (Edited for PERSEC) was one of the coolest guys I'd meet in that unit, and had a hot girlfriend down at the club. But when his screaming ass brought me back into camp, Lamberson was right there. He pulled (Edited for PERSEC) aside and said something. Then he embraced me like a brother.

He made sure I got clean clothes, a shower, a shave, and some food. He had my back. He made it so that no matter what anyone said, I was going to be OK. And the thing is, people respected him so much that they accepted me because of it. A week later we were at Kobar towers and I was hitting Home Runs off (another guy; Edited for PERSEC) ' weak ass pitching. I was home again. A home I wanted to be in this time.

And Dana…

When we got back to Fort Riley, I got to meet Dana. She was truly the love of Lambo's life, and he adored her like I'd never seen. I knew that if I ever got married, I'd better have the same type of relationship - one built on adoration. I lucked out. I've been married 9 years to a beautiful co-teacher. But I learned that from Dana and Lambo. Build it on trust and respect.

Lambo had settled down a lot when we got back to Kansas. He was a family man now, not a 20 year-old renegade running around Panama. I respected that. We did a lot of Land Nav, went a few rounds in JTF 6 and defied our maker on many a lightning-splashed night helecopter run. But when all was said and done, we had a blast. And, like everything else, it all came to an end. Lambo was getting out, going back home. We helped him load up the moving truck. He was out - but not for long.

One last piece of advice…

We all get pretty lonely sometimes. When I got out, I was on my own. Didn't want to go back "home". I somehow got accepted to college, and struggled to make it for a while. I called a few of you guys along the way. I called (three other guys; Edited for PERSEC) and finally, Lambo. He was going back in, and going to Colorado.

He was busy, and we didn't have a chance to chat much. He did tell me to do what I was doing and to never go back. That was it. I never spoke to him again.

I finished that degree. I went back and got another one. I played college basketball, and then got a job coaching college basketball in Providence, RI. We went to the NCAA tournament in 2004. My teams went 80-35 in four years. But you know what? I could never find it again. I could never find that comradery we had, especially with Lambo. Do you know what? I changed our uniforms to look like the LRSD colors and lettering. That shit didn't work. My guys didn't get it. So when one of my players went to jail for an alleged rape he committed prior to me recruiting him, I got out too. The school turned their back on him, and then I walked away from them.

I started teaching, but had to get back into coaching on a smaller level. I was asked to take a job in North Carolina, come on as a history teacher and to coach a girls' basketball team that hadn't won shit ever. Also, could I coach football? Yeah - Lambo taught me how to hit. I'd do it.

Talk about Long Range? These girls led the State in Three point shooting, won 9 games and played out of their minds. All coming back this year. And do you know what? They wear black, gold and white (no red). But this year, they will waer a red "R.L." on their jersey. And they will know why. Because if it weren't for a man like Randall Lamberson, there would be no (Edited for PERSEC) today.

Final Thoughts…

So there it is, and here I am. I printed out a picture of Lambo and it sits in black and white on my desk now - with that half smile, and all of those awards.

Which one of them is for being a best friend? Which ribbon means "greatest mentor a poor, sorry bastard could ever ask for?" I don't know.

But I do know that on April 10th, we lost him. Damn, I wish I had picked up that phone last year. Hell, I drove right through Kentucky when he was at Fort Campbell, on my way to Nashville one time. Could have stopped. Didn't.

Should have said "Thanks, Lambo" when we cut the nets down in '04, headed for the Big Dance. I always thought I'd get that chance someday. But not like this.

Who are those fucking bastards who put that road side bomb there? Who were they to take Lambo from Dana and his kids? He believed in them. But they took him.

But they can't take his legacy.

They can't take our memories, the thousands that there are.

So I'm going in to school on Monday, and I'm going to tell those bored Seniors that once upon a time, there lived a great man...Teddy Roosevelt can wait for another day.

Sometimes our worlds collide. I look at it like this: Life growing up in Boston, Life as a soldier, life as a college student, and my life today. The rules say that these lives must stay separate. Sure, you can link them together with a phone call or an email sometimes. But they exist on separate planes, for me.

You guys wouldn't even know me now. I wouldn't know you. But tonight, or whenever you read this - we are all back there again. We are outside of that C-130, taking a picture before the jump into Riley. We are with Lambo on a football field, or at a bar. We are two inches behind his right shoulder. We are safe. Tonight, we are all brothers again.

Rest in Peace, Randall Lamberson.

Duty First, Lambo. [/COLOR]

"Randall believed in what he was doing,” his wife, Dana Lamberson, said in a statement issued by the post. “He felt the future of Iraq lived in the children. Each time he looked in their eyes he saw hope for their future and their freedom. "He was a beloved husband, father and a great leader of soldiers."

Along with his wife, Lamberson is survived by a daughter, Kelsi, and son, Evan, of (Edited); and father, Lloyd, of (Edited)