1Bn/246 Armor Michigan National Guard

01/16/2026

I stumbled across this article from 2021. Tap on the words below here "The M103 and M60 Tanks..." and the link opens up. Then tap "YES" that you are 18 years old.
Kelly ~ Admin

My wife and I like driving around and war memorials, VFW displays, and military tributes are always likely to cause us to stop, read and take pictures. Dowagiac, MI, is about 45 minutes from where we live and one fine summer day we decided to stop at the National Guard Armory there and take pictures...

01/16/2026

Shared by Michael Moran South Haven, MI. 27 Aug 1994

01/16/2026

Shared by Michael Moran Benton Harbor, MI 6 Nov 1958

01/16/2026

Shared by Michael Moran. St Joseph, MI. 21 March 1959

01/16/2026

Newspaper articles shared by Michael Moran
Dowagiac Armory 17 May 1993

01/14/2026

This is Charlie Niner Two, Scouts report enemy armor in your sector, battle carry sabot and report REDCON status.

This was shared by Michael Redmond .

Tanks Michael

01/13/2026

01/10/2026

This is a beautiful tribute and memorial to our 246th President, Gary L. Sternaman 's lovely wife. Sandy was such a kind woman and I feel so fortunate to have been able to call her friend. Sandra Sternaman you will be missed. Rest peacefully in God's arms my friend.

Kelly ~Admin

SANDRA KAY SMITH
Online Obituary

Sandra Smith passed away peacefully, late evening on Dec.31, 2025, at Advent Health in Port Charlotte, FL, after a very short illness, with husband Gary Sternaman holding her hand at her side. Sandy is now with her Lord and Savior, her son Brad, and her parents.
Sandy was born in Marshall, MI, on Feb.19, 1948, to George Smith and Jackie (Margie Rule) Smith. She would have been 78 yrs old next month. Surviving are brothers Lanny (Carolyn) Smith of Austin, TX, and Larry (Beth) Smith of Climax, MI, along with numerous nieces, nephews, grand children, one new great-grandson, cousins, and many, many friends. All of the Sternaman family loved her like one of their own, too. She was loved by everyone that ever met her If she wasn't, it was their loss !
She has always been a part of the Ludwick family, of Bronson, MI. Her son, Brad Ludwick passed away at age 52, in Oct. 2022.
Sandy retired in Jan. 2009, from the H.R. Dept. of a cousin's solar company in Albion, MI.
Gary and Sandy got married on Aug. 12, 2006, in St. Joseph, MI. They met in Oct. 2004 at the Proud Veterans Motorcycle Club, in Parma, MI. A mutual friend introduced them one night, and that was that ! They loved traveling on their Harley with the Club and their close friends, Larry and Marilyn Shears. Those were great times on all of those trips.....Yellowstone, Glacier Natl. Park, Rolling Thunder in D.C., Sturgis and Deadwood, Charlotte, NC, Savannah, GA, etc., etc. !
Sandy's hobbies were making greeting cards (her passion), "some" quilting, and playing golf with her gal pals in Arcadia Village., where her and Gary moved to in 2016. They were FL residents, but would come back to their summer location, in MI, every year from May-October.
Sandy was a great cook. She loved cooking for everyone, and even did some baking, too. She made the best blueberry muffins, snickerdoodles, molasses cookies, and cherry pies.
When she would do something for people, whether it be cooking, baking or greeting cards, she always gave it her 110%. If she did not like the end result of what she was making, she would do it over until she was happy with it.
THIS story could go on and on forever, with everything that sandy and Gary did together. She will be sadly and greatly missed by everyone who loved her.
Per her wishes, Sandy was cremated and her ashes will be buried next to her mother and father in Bronson, MI. A graveside service will take place at the cemetery, sometime late June or early July. Details will go out the end of May, and everyone will be invited, not just the family.

01/01/2026

It is with a broken heart and great sadness that I write this. I was informed this evening that Gary Sternaman's wife, Sandra, passed away this evening after a very brief illness. I do not have any further information at this time. I ask that you keep Gary in your prayers as he navigates the days ahead. 💔😭😭💔🙏🙏🙏
Kelly ~ Admin

12/30/2025

Wishing everyone of the 246th family a Happy New Years be safe and enjoy.

12/28/2025

On Christmas Eve, 89-Year-Old Alan Alda Took 15 Minutes to Walk 100 Meters — Just to Visit “Trapper” One More Time 💔

Christmas Eve, 2025.
New York was just waking up when Alan Alda opened his eyes with a simple thought:

“Today… I’m going to see Trapper.”

He got dressed slowly. Sweater. Coat. Scarf. The same careful ritual he’d learned to live with since Parkinson’s moved into his life ten years earlier.

A car took him to the cemetery.

When it stopped, the driver hurried around to help, but Alan waved him off gently.

“I’ve got it,” he said, taking his cane. “This part… I have to do myself.”

From the parking lot to Wayne Rogers’ grave was maybe a hundred meters.
On a good day, that’s a two-minute walk.

For 89-year-old Alan Alda, it took fifteen.

Each step was work.
His legs trembled.
His hand shook on the cane.

A groundskeeper started toward him.

“Sir, can I—”

“No, thank you,” Alan said, breathing hard but steady.
“I need to walk to him on my own.”

So he did.

One slow step at a time.
Boots crunching on winter grass.
Cold air burning his lungs.

Not once did he turn back.

Because at the end of that path wasn’t just a stone.

It was his friend.
His partner.
His first on-screen brother.

It was Trapper.

At last, he reached it.

A simple marker:

WAYNE ROGERS
1933–2015

Alan stood there, chest heaving, cane planted in the earth.

For a long moment, he just… looked.

Then, in a voice rough with age and memory, he whispered:

“Trapper… I’m here.”

His hand—shaking like always now—reached out and rested on the top of the stone.

“Ten years,” he said quietly. “Ten years since you left… and I still miss you.”

He smiled through tears.

“Look at me, pal. Eighty-nine. Walking like a baby deer,” he joked softly.
“Parkinson’s took a lot from me. But it didn’t take you. Or what we had.”

He stared at the name again, and the years washed over him.

“Do you remember?” he said. “1972. We were just a couple of kids who didn’t know what this little show would become.”

“Hawkeye and Trapper. Two smart-mouth surgeons at the end of the world.”

He chuckled.

“First week, we were strangers. Second week, we were brothers. By week three… it felt like we’d known each other forever.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“People ask me all the time,” he went on. “‘Did you love B.J. more or Trapper more?’”

He shook his head.

“I tell them the truth: I loved them both. But it was different.”

“B.J. was my friend.”

He leaned in, pressing his palm more firmly to the stone.

“But you, Trap? You were my brother.”

He swallowed, his voice breaking.

“You’d look at me across the Swamp, and I’d know exactly what joke you were about to make before you opened your mouth. I’d look at you, and you’d know when I was about to go too far.”

“That’s what brothers do.
They don’t need scripts.
They just… know.”

The winter wind moved softly through the trees.

Alan stood there in the cold, an old man in a coat and scarf, talking to a piece of granite as if it might talk back.

“Trapper, Hawkeye misses you,” he whispered. “Misses you a lot.”

He let the words hang in the air, like a prayer.

After a while, his legs began to ache. His back throbbed. His hand tightened on the cane.

He knew he couldn’t stand there forever.

So he did what Hawkeye Pierce would’ve done for a fallen friend.

He straightened his shoulders.

He placed his hand flat on the stone one last time.

“Okay, buddy,” he said softly. “I made it. I kept my promise. I came for Christmas.”

He smiled through the tears.

“Save me a chair up there, will you? One day, we’ll run lines again. No cameras. No notes. Just you and me.”

He gave the stone a gentle pat, like a shoulder.

“Goodnight, Trapper,” he whispered. “From Hawkeye. Always.”

Then, slowly, he turned and began the long, careful walk back to the car.

From the parking lot, if anyone had looked his way, they might have just seen an old man leaving a grave on Christmas Eve.

But if you’ve ever loved MAS*H…
if you’ve ever watched two surgeons laugh their way through hell…

You’d know what really happened that morning:

Hawkeye went to see Trapper.
And even with shaking hands and unsteady legs…

He never once stopped walking toward his brother. 💔🌲🕯️

12/24/2025

Thank you Brian Ratter for this Tankers Christmas Eve story. Thought I'd share it with our 246th Armor Family. May your home be filled with love, joy, and peace this Christmas.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.