Armistice Day

Or Veteran's Day, whichever you prefer. Of course, on this day we thank our veterans, alive and deceased, for their service.

But, in a corner of your mind - remember why this day - the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of 1918 - is relevant. Yeah, that was when the Armistice started - and hostilities more or less ceased, but it was painfully important to those who lived in that time.

When you think about it, the War to End All Wars pretty well rubbed out a generation of young men, and making significant inroads into those preceding the young men. All of Europe and major portions of Russia were also involved, with lesser impacts on the societies of the other Allies.

That war was a meat grinder, end of story. Best remember that, too.

K Staters remember, too

US Spitfire Reconnaissance

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I'd forgotten that I've seen this before. If you have as well, it's still worth a few minutes of your time.

An unarmed, unescorted reconnaissance plane over WWII Germany? Just for a chance for a high school graduate to fly?

These men had steel nards, and we owe a lot to them.

H/T Michael Z.Williamson on Facebook

If This Doesn't

Put a lump in your throat or a tear in your eye, then I got nuttin.'


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Memorial Day 2013

Every year I decorate the graves of my family at our local cemetery, take pics, and post them here so my relatives can see what I did. These four are the main reason I go - from left to right is my Aunt Patsy, my Grandmother Jeanette, my Grandfather Leo (who died before I was born) and my father - Robert J. Borland. Dad and Leo were both veterans, so I put flags as decoration on their graves.

Looking to the northwest, then west, then southwest from the family area - this is part of the "new" section, and it's usually fairly well decorated. Further south there are no graves.

This is in the old section of the cemetery - Jesse would be a great uncle of mine.

Jesse's parents and sister. Dad was named for R.J., and then I was named for Dad. I am a junior, but I really should be a III. Elizabeth - mother and wife, and Letha - a daughter.

These two pics more or less show the layout of the graves in the plot. There is still room there - this may be my final resting place since there is no room left near Dad, unless they tear out a shrub. I have to wonder what the holes in the concrete footings were for - they clearly had steel posts embedded and then cut off at ground level. I suppose there was a wrought iron fence there at one time.

And, as has become my custom - I purchased some extra small flags just like I used on these graves and went searching for veterans who had nothing decorating their resting place. Usually, I start looking in the old section and catch the old Civil War vets and others, but today I could see a few close by my Dad's place, so that is where I went. I couldn't believe the number I saw there that had nothing. I can understand why - as we will see in further comments.

I didn't even know "Mr. Giddens" was buried here. This veteran also happened to be the principal of good ol' USD #102 for years and years, certainly while I was there attending grade school and on into high school as well. There was no separate principal for grade and high schools back then - he was it.

Last I'd heard, his wife was still alive, but she had moved some years ago. None of his children are even close anymore, either. I'm sure it would be a hardship to drive to Cimarron each and every year to decorate his grave and say a prayer or three. Just a shame, anyways.

I've decorated Mr. Davis's grave before - his is just west of the old family plot. I had five or six flags left, but it was ninety nine degrees when I left the house for the cemetary, and all that walking and bending over trying to push things in rock hard dry pasture ground had me pretty well shot. I went to the grocery store and got something to drink, and after I'd had about half the cup, I started sweating. I hadn't noticed I was that hot. Certainly not acclimated to the heat yet - I should have had something to drink with me to chill some.

I never made it into the old section - it seemed my efforts were better spent in the new section this time. Maybe next year I'll bring more flags and hopefully more stamina. Like I've said before, I could give a rat's a$$ what anyone thinks about me decorated neglected graves - I do it for entirely selfish reasons. I just feel I could do more.

I noticed a flag holder on the house when I moved in, so I bought a flag, by golly. However, it didn't fit in that holder, but it did come with a new one. Which I mounted, obviously.

You know, I'm pretty likely to say that I enjoy the simpler things in life, and that flying our flag would probably qualify. However, there are a lot of complex thoughts and emotions involved in flying our nation's flag - all wrapped up in the symbolism, the sacrifice of our fore bearers, what our Founding Fathers endured, and the ideas of liberty and freedom it represents to the masses who would love to live here across the world. Maybe we're not so simple for flying it, after all.

A Story For Your Memorial Day

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This song by Lee Brice has charted well, and it's a heart tugging tear jerker. But wait, it turns out that it is true:

Then came the part of the interview that hit me hardest: It was the moment when Paul Monti talked about his son’s truck, and why he still has it, and still drives it. 

“What can I tell you? It’s him,” Jared’s father explained, nearly choking on his words. “It’s got his DNA all over it. I love driving it because it reminds me of him, though I don’t need the truck to remind me of him. I think about him every hour of every day.”

I was already tearing up before that story about Jared’s truck. But as the details piled up — the truck was a Dodge 4X4 Ram 1500 with decals on it that included the 10th Mountain Division, the 82nd Airborne Division, an American flag, and a Go Army sticker — I lost it.

And there I was sitting in my car in a Walmart parking lot on a sunny Memorial Day in my hometown crying hard. Crying like a child. Crying as if I’d lost my child.

I wasn’t the only one in a car crying that day. It turns out that a Nashville songwriter named Connie Harrington was in her car, too, listening to the very same story. Moved to tears, she pulled over to the side of the road, scribbling notes as the story proceeded.

She wrote down detail upon detail, everything she could remember. When she got back home, Harrington couldn’t get that story of the soldier’s father and his son’s truck out of her mind. So she did what writers do, and turned the words of that grieving father into a song. With the help of two co-writers, the finished product found its way to singer Lee Brice, who recorded the song called, aptly, “I Drive Your Truck.”

Last month, the song reached No. 1 on Billboard’s Country Airplay chart.

Sergeant Jared Monti (www.army.mil)

These are the sort of people that we remember on Memorial Day. As they say, some gave all. Perhaps some managed to come home alive - but they put in some serious time and sacrifice, and deserve our attention and thanks, especially on this weekend. So, if you read this and are a veteran, I thank you for your service and sacrifice. Would that I could do more, and that our country would do more.

H/T Ace of Spades

Every Once In A While

Image credit Google

Google does something right.

Cool Stuff!

Yeah, I did go there.

I was watching the History Channel today - Modern Marvels was on. In a segment about ice, they mentioned Pykrete:

Pykrete is a composite material made of approximately 14 percent sawdust or some other form of wood pulp (such as paper) and 86 percent ice by weight. Its use was proposed during World War II by Geoffrey Pyke to the British Royal Navy as a candidate material for making a huge, unsinkable aircraft carrier. Pykrete has some interesting properties, notably its relatively slow melting rate (because of low thermal conductivity), and its vastly improved strength and toughness over ice; it is closer in form to concrete. 

Pykrete is slightly more difficult to form than concrete, as it expands during the freezing process. However, it can be repaired and maintained using seawater. The mixture can be moulded into any shape and frozen, and it will be extremely tough and durable, as long as it is kept at or below freezing.

Yes, the various Canadian, British and American militaries were considering using it to make a sort of crude self propelled aircraft platform not unlike an aircraft carrier to help fill the gaps from submarine losses during WWII. But, with the advent of long range bombers, radar and sonar keeping the Wolfpack at bay, the need was less pressing, and the idea dropped.

Still interesting, though.

Honor

Painting by John D. Shaw/Copyright Valor Studios

On Dec. 20, 1943, a young American bomber pilot named Charlie Brown found himself somewhere over Germany, struggling to keep his plane aloft with just one of its four engines still working. They were returning from their first mission as a unit, the successful bombing of a German munitions factory. Of his crew members, one was dead and six wounded, and 2nd Lt. Brown was alone in his cockpit, the three unharmed men tending to the others. Brown’s B-17 had been attacked by 15 German planes and left for dead, and Brown himself had been knocked out in the assault, regaining consciousness in just enough time to pull the plane out of a near-fatal nose dive.

None of that was as shocking as the German pilot now suddenly to his right.
Brown thought he was hallucinating. He did that thing you see people do in movies: He closed his eyes and shook his head no. He looked, again, out the co-pilot’s window. Again, the lone German was still there, and now it was worse. He’d flown over to Brown’s left and was frantic: pointing, mouthing things that Brown couldn’t begin to comprehend, making these wild gestures, exaggerating his expressions like a cartoon character. 

Brown, already in shock, was freshly shot through with fear. What was this guy up to?
He craned his neck and yelled back for his top gunner, screamed at him to get up in his turret and shoot this guy out of the sky. Before Brown’s gunner could squeeze off his first round, the German did something even weirder: He looked Brown in the eye and gave him a salute. Then he peeled away.
What just happened? That question would haunt Brown for more than 40 years, long after he married and left the service and resettled in Miami, long after he had expected the nightmares about the German to stop and just learned to live with them.

Quite a story, no? There is more, much more, and I suggest you go and read the whole thing. Good stuff.

H/T Firehand

Veteran's Day

I generally rerun something I wrote back in 2007 for today. I guess I'm lazy?!?! At any rate, I think I said pretty much all I had to say back then. However, others speak volumes with their short posts, and are quite eloquent in how they do so.

The shape of the dog tag would change somewhat over the years, but its purpose has remained the same: to identify the fallen when they can no longer identify themselves. In other words, it’s a preparation for something you’d rather not think about.

There are times when I think the whole nation would rather not think about things like that; there is much talk of peace, comparatively little about the idea that maybe you have to fight once in a while to obtain it. They forget that during most of human history, peace was the exception, not the rule; and they believe that ultimately, mankind will happily lay down its arms. Anyone who’s ever had any of those arms pointed at him knows better. But there are fewer and fewer of them — of us — to serve as a reminder, and so we forget, lulled into a false sense of security by those who prefer butter to guns, or would if butter didn’t have so much darned saturated fat.

This is from Charles G. Hill, my blogging guru for whom I have a great deal of respect.

Go and read the whole thing.

Dusty

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I tell ya, it gets mighty dusty around here when the wind comes up.




H/T Rumpshot

Memorial Day 2012

If you've been reading me for a while, you know that I always use this blog as a means to show my relatives that I have decorated the family graves once again. And, since there are quite a few pics, I'll put 'em under the fold to help the main page load a bit quicker. If you wanna see more, you know the drill.

It About Took Us All To Win It

After I had selected my food from the buffet and sat down at the Colonel's today, the elderly couple came in. With their deliberate walk, together they waited their turn at the cash register, the man paying, and together they picked up their plates and filled them from the buffet as well. They moved with the comfort of knowing each other and moving as a team for many, many years.

Side by side they sat in a booth facing me, and that is when I noticed the gentleman's hat. WWII Veteran it said. I know you've seen 'em - dark royal blue with gold lettering. I got up to make one more trip (like I needed it), and decided to continue exercising my policy.

I walked towards their table, and leaning forward over it, I spoke to the old warrior: I couldn't help noticing your hat, and I just wanted to thank you for your service, sir. That's all I wanted to say, and please excuse my interruption of your meal.

Somewhat surprised, he thanked me and voiced his appreciation. I told him it was my outstanding policy to thank veterans for their service, and that I appreciated it. He said: You know, there aren't many of us left anymore.    I told him I sure knew that was true, and excused myself to continue my original plan.

Later, after I had eaten some more, reading the paper, I noticed him coming towards me to speak again. He thanked me again, and we started talking. He had been to Europe, and some of his friends had been to the Pacific. He wanted to know where I was from, and I told him and asked if he knew one of my neighbors, who had been in the Battle of the Bulge. He knew him, and some of my other neighbors, plus he knew my Dad. Once he said his name, I remembered hearing of him some years back.

That is when reflecting, he said: It about took us all to win it. He meant all his compadres and the people at home.

It damn sure did, didn't it?

I don't tell you this story to make myself sound good - I'm pretty poor at taking compliments anyways. No, it truly is rewarding to thank a courtly gentleman and his wife for the sacrifices they made, and get to see the gratitude of the recognition. I guarantee you I made his and the wife's day. It's something we should all do.

And I felt so good about it, on the way home, I made it a point to stop at another of my neighbor's place who was in the Reserves during Vietnam. He didn't go, but he was on the edge of getting shipped out for quite some time. He was ready if they wanted him to go.

I thanked him, too.

Morons!

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At the Tomb of the Unknowns, one shows respect.

H/T MoK

Veterans Day Part II

My grandfather, the doughboy. He passed before my parents married, so I never got to meet him. I'm the exception in the long line of those who have served in my family.

The best post I've seen about Veterans Day is by my blogging friend Earl of Just the Library Keeper. Go and read. I promise you it will be well worth your time.

Veterans Day

I really can't add to what I said back in 2007:

For me, Veteran's Day always brings memories of local veterans who I know (or in most cases these days – knew). I've spoken of my “Uncle Ted” before, but I also had an “Uncle Nate” as well. He and “Aunt Edna” lived about a mile north of Ted's place, and I spent many a happy hour in their basement house. Uncle Nate was a small man, and he had a son who was considerable larger. The younger and larger Nate was known as “Little Nate” and the smaller but older Nate was “Big Nate.” Which is why - while I'm a Jr I'm nicknamed Jeff and my Dad (Robert for both of us) was known as Bob. My parents didn't want me hung with the sobriquet “Little Bob.”

Anyways, being a veteran was a large part of Nate's life. Every year his unit had a reunion, which found he and Edna in various places across the nation. Nate was in the Battle of the Bulge. I'm pretty sure he was involved in D-Day as well. Nate was like most veterans – he just didn't talk about what he'd seen or where he'd been. He and a cousin (another veteran) went on regular fishing trips that involved a lot of Old Charter. There was always a pint or two stashed in the garage – I spotted them nosing around playing as a child. As long as I can remember, Nate wore hearing aids. Edna would harangue Nate about something, and Nate would shut them off. Then, Edna would harangue him about that, and turn to me and wink. Nate would surreptitiously wink at me when Edna wasn't looking. Nate passed away a few years back, and Edna is in the local nursing home. She is the last of my elderly neighbors.

One of my longtime friends (Steve) father was in the Battle of the Bulge as well. He also liberated Hitler's Eagles Nest. This apparently involved drinking the liberated wines stored there. Needless to say, one of Steve's favorite DVD sets is “Band of Brothers” since his father lived that life. Gene was a paratrooper. He even scored some trophies – one is an officer's sidearm. Sadly, Gene is no longer with us. Steve is the repository for much of his father's experiences.

Another neighbor was in the Korean War. Jim's prize possession was a Garand he purchased after he got out, because he considered it to be the finest rifle he'd ever used. He wanted one just like the one he was issued, so he got one. He used it, too. Many a varmint fell to that rifle over the years. Jim is gone, too.

My uncle in Denver was in the Navy during the Korean War. He was in the Reserves for a long time after the war was over. He served aboard the USS Cronin (DEC 704).

My own father was stationed at Okinawa during the Korean conflict. He didn't see any action. He was a lineman. Nowadays, I fear Dad painted a pretty pure picture of his activities. He enjoyed building and flying control line model aircraft, and most of his pictures reflect that. He got to go to Japan several times on leave – somewhere I've got some yen from those trips. However, according to him, he must have lived a very boring life, because I never heard about any sort of mamasans, cathouses or otherwise. Either Dad was as pure as the driven snow, or he sort of neglected to tell his son about any “good times” he might have had.

All these men were involved with the local chapter of the VFW. I can remember Dad dressing in his khakis for funerals on a regular basis. The neighbors did the same. They didn't expect anything back other than they wanted the same at their funerals. They didn't look at their service to their country or to the VFW as anything other than it was the thing to do. There were no questions of self doubt about a mission, or the political ramifications, or any other sort of distraction. They served their country. They ate and took breaths. They raised families when they got home. They saluted the flag. It was their duty, but there was more to it than just simply doing their duty – they loved their country, their way of life, and felt they had to defend it when called.

These are the men who are my heroes. They became the backbone of our country – in areas requiring morals and courage, and just the simple day to day existences. I grew up in the era when the draft had been dropped, and registration wasn't required. I sometimes regret not having served, but the Armed Services weren't a great place to be at that particular time. Am I the equal of the men of the past? I honestly don't know, as I've never been tested. I am heartened at the bravery and fiber of our soldiers serving now, and hope that as they come back into our society, they will have the long term effects my heroes had.

So, I remember. I think that I am incapable of forgetting.

Might be a rerun, but it still says what I wanna say. Thank you for your sacrifices, ladies and gentlemen who have served.

Refreshing

 

Captain Dale A. Dye. We mostly know him for his consulting work and appearances in films and television through his company Warriors, Inc., rather than his military record - which is pretty impressive. The man "got around." His Wikipedia page shows his military awards, headlined by a Bronze Star (with V for Valor) and three Purple Hearts among the many others you can see in the picture above.

So, when I start hearing "stars" give their political opinions and such, I'll tend to believe someone like the Captain on military matters far and above someone like Sean Penn or Michael Moore. It just so happens he has a blog at his Warriors, Inc site. Here the Captain expounds on the mission to assassinate Osama Bin Laden:

Its been a while since that infamous scum-sucker Osama Bin Laden assumed room temperature and was consigned to sleep with the fishes. With the exception of repeated self-congratulatory references to it by a certain high-level politician running for reelection, the raid carried out by Navy SEALs and Army SOF aviators on 2 May has slipped below the media radar to be replaced by more pressing stories...like a narcissistic congressman tweeting phone-photos of his man-meat. So maybe enough time has passed for me to weigh in with relative objectivity on a few elements of Operation Neptune Spear that got short-shrift in the hoopla surrounding the long-overdue whacking of the mastermind behind the 9/11 attacks and the titular head of Al Qaeda worldwide.
Looking back on all the breathless reportage immediately following the raid, what strikes me initially is the wild-eyed hyperbole involved. It's as if all the deadline-frazzled journalists in the world googled "daring, dangerous and audacious" and then shot-gunned every synonym they could find into their copy. It was all designed to make readers and viewers do a pee-pee dance, read more and keep their sweaty hands off the remote. That's the nature of the highly-competitive media beast these days, I guess, but it's also an unfair overstatement of the facts involved in the OBL mission. Neptune Spear was anything but a cobbled-together strike with high-speed, low-drag operators slapping mags into their weapons and launching off into the night with knives between their teeth and devil take the hindmost.

He goes on to say how well planned it really was plus how it was because of failures in the past that this sort of preparation came to breed success. He does not pull punches. Pee-pee dances indeed.

Neptune Spear put all of that into the deep, dark background and that's as it should be. What the media has so far ignored is that this OBL strike mission was definitive proof-of-product for our special operators. Where our operators, door-kickers and shooters of the SOF community have screwed the pooch in past operations, they have learned hard lessons and applied the knowledge to current tactics, techniques and procedures. And chief among those lessons was the extraordinary cooperation demonstrated in the OBL raid between the alphabet-soup intelligence organizations and the active forces that rely on vital, perishable information to carry off a successful clandestine operation. On Neptune Spear all the horses were pulling in the same direction and the internecine, bureaucratic walls that keep information from flowing back and forth to and from the people who need it crumbled. Those things are crucial in understanding how capable we really are in the longest, most difficult war America has ever fought.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't fire a few rounds downrange at the current administration and the voracious media that insisted with high dudgeon that they should be given every specific detail of how the raid was conducted so they could score political points, boost circulation or score audience ratings without the first thought of how all that brag and blather might affect future operations against our nation's avowed enemies. Imagine for a moment that we'd simply acknowledged that a covert operation was conducted and a high-level AQ member was killed; nothing more, and to hell with the screaming minions of the press. We might have had a real, workable chance to exploit and act on the intelligence our operators policed up within OBL's compound. And the AQ network would be sitting out there wondering what we knew and what we didn't rather than presuming that all their secrets were now compromised.
If the administration and the press had been willing to play it closer to the vest, we might have wound up hitting OBL's entire chain-of-command and eliminating much of their infrastructure before they had a chance to react, change codes and implement their own version of Plan B.
Like it or not - depending on your political and patriotic - bent there are things that the public does not need to know. Every time we ignore that or demand full and unfettered access to any and all military information, we tip our hand to the enemy and put the lives of our special operators in jeopardy.
Politicians, pundits and press weenies...how copy my last?

I'm with him here with reservations - sooner or later we the general public should know what happened. Immediately after? Obviously that was a political decision solely to bolster the image of a militarily ineffective Commander in Chief. Damn straight the covert ops could have made some serious hay if the mission wasn't publicized.

Here he takes on the politically correct movement controlling the military:

Somewhere along the twisted, constantly shifting, joint-service route that too many senior officers have had to traverse from bars to stars they've become uniformed politicians who succeed not by charismatic leadership but by going along to get along and allowing their soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen to become lab-rats for advanced social studies. Leaders bred to be Pattons and Halseys have morphed into placid bureaucrats. So where are the fire-breathing rifle company commanders, bone-in-the-teeth destroyermen and hot-stick fighter jocks now that they've gained flag status? Nowhere that I can spot. I'm painting with a broad brush here but the picture is bleak and deserves attention. It seems in order to merit stars and thus a say in our national military policies, senior men and women are required to wash off the war-paint and fall meekly into lock-step with politicians who hold both the defense purse-strings and the rubber-stamp required for promotion.

Those politicians - most of them without a day of military service in their padded resumes - come to the game with varying social agendas and see the military as a captive, easily-manipulated population they can use to work out the bugs before they launch legislation to dump the entire nation into one big Petri dish where they can grow the sort of American culture they desire. There's nothing especially new in all that. It's been going on for years in the guise of bringing the military in line with civilian social standards and practices. What's new is that it's being quietly allowed by senior officers who don't have the guts to fight back and preserve the special elements of military service that has kept America a force to be reckoned with by tin-pot dictators and wannabe world conquerors for decades.
The timing for all this could not be worse. Our military forces are holding a shaky line in Iraq, busting their collective butts in Afghanistan to get something meaningful done before a looming withdrawal deadline, coping with a confused and fumble-footed situation in Libya and watching a growing number of protesting populations in Middle Eastern countries that could easily spill over into more American military commitments. In the face of all this unrest, our military forces are increasingly being employed as a diplomatic arm of the U.S. State Department. No one at the highest command levels seems to be bitching very loudly if at all about that. It would be a dead-certain career-killer to do so. It would also be a display of courageous leadership and loyalty to the troops they command.
I'm confident our men and women up close to the pointy-end of the bayonet can handle those challenges. They've been the capable, guiding hand on a rudderless ship of state plenty of times in the past. What bothers me most are the distractions they are going to have to deal with while they try to keep us all afloat through this current mess. While our military people and their families are coping with a dizzying drumbeat of constant combat deployments and humanitarian missions in disaster-stricken areas like Haiti and Japan, they are also watching the warrior fabric that keeps them motivated being frayed by meddlesome, mandated social change that could easily be left to take a natural course after the operational pressure eases a bit. Need some examples?
How about the recent study ordered by Congress that reports a lack of diversity in our military leadership? It seems the proportion of minorities and women in our uniformed leadership is inadequate and will require immediate " affirmative action." That action will be ordered by politicians who believe only they know what's good for our military and are stone blind to potential consequences. Race, creed, sex or sexual orientation will inevitably become factors in accelerated promotion. The days of selecting the best based on proven performance may well be over in our military and that will lead to a closed loop that includes diverse careerists and excludes the warriors most skilled in the brutal business of killing the enemy and bringing our troops home alive.
Do the generals and admirals have their star-studded skivvies in a knot over this? Not that we are hearing or seeing in testimony before various Congressional committees. It's all good if you believe what you hear and our military will suffer any disruptions in silence as penance for past social sins. Yes, sir or ma'am, diversity and social sensitivity is going to make everything better and if those Neanderthal warriors don't like it, well, they can just take a hike.
The failure to rail against all this reminds me of Army Chief of Staff General George Casey's reaction after that nut-bag Muslim in uniform shot up a bunch of his fellow soldiers down at Ft. Hood and the Army was looking for a scapegoat to blame for the actions of a guy who had clearly telegraphed both jihadist leanings and violent intentions. Fearing knee-jerk reaction in the ranks, General Casey simply said we must be sensitive to diversity. All the soldiers I've asked said the more appropriate response would have been a drumhead court-martial leading to a firing squad.
Now, I'm watching sailors, Marines and airmen putting their lives on the line in yet another commitment of manpower, money and equipment to maintain a no-fly zone in Libya, a mission that is both without clear objective and a political hot-potato for a current administration that can't decide how much we are willing to do and for whom we ought to be doing whatever that turns out to be. While they deal with that turd in a political punchbowl, placid leadership behind the lines is issuing orders for the full and unfettered recognition of homosexuals in the military and preparing for a virtually inevitable mandate to open direct combat assignments to females. That situation will likely sort itself out by natural selection but the timing of such a ground-breaking departure from the warrior ethos is aggravating at a time in which more aggravation is the last thing we need in our military services.
As a guy who spent a large chunk of his adult life in uniform, I'm no stranger to the fact that there have always been homosexuals in the military and most of them have served honorably in both war and peace. I'm also aware that no amount of sensitivity training is going to thoroughly erase prejudices that have been invested and nurtured in the minds of many heterosexuals long before they joined the military. There's going to be divisiveness, unrest and a fairly long period of adjustment before it all sorts out so why force it on an over-stressed military right now? Assuming we survive the worldwide challenges facing us on battlefields around the world where cultures are clashing and our military people are struggling to defend our right of choice, do we really need to burden them with turbulence in the ranks?
Can we catch a break here?

He's not saying anything I haven't heard before, but he's saying it clearly, short, and sweet. The time to force the military to overcome the childhood prejudices of their members is not when they are at war.

He's got several other posts, and if you are interested in a military man's point of view, I highly suggest you check it out. Captain Dye is well spoken as well as provocative. Being politically correct is not in his genes, and I find that refreshing.

My First Thought

And I'm sure I wasn't the first, but anyways.

Okay, Bin Laden was buried at sea - "according to Muslim customs." Mmmkay, I'm betting the Navy had an imam or some such say the proper words, the proper teeth were knashed and so on.

But I'll betcha something else, too.

I'm for wagering that particular terrorist went to meet Allah with some bacon shoved up his ass.

And I have absolutely no problem with the idea.

Torpedo Test

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Highly impressive!

Had I been in the service, it would have been the Navy for this landlubber. However, I fear submarine duty would have to be right out, and not just because I'm too large. I dunno if smaller physiques are a requirement or not anymore, but the Navy wouldn't want me in a small tube for weeks at a time. Just sayin.'


H/T My Nuckle Kim, the ol' Mariner of the family

Awesome!

H5 – WWII Bombers over Arizona Landscape from H5 Productions on Vimeo.

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From the Vimeo site:

SaberCat1 filming in HD the B17 and the B25 WWII Bombers over and around Arizona's Superstition Mountains and Saguaro Lake. H5 Productions, in conjunction with The Commemorative Air Force filmed these aircraft during the Veteran's Day Celebration on Saturday, November 13th, 2010. The B17 Bomber was flown by pilot Russ Gilmore and the B25 Bomber was flown by pilot Spike McLane. The base for these bombers is Falcon Field located in Mesa, Arizona. SaberCat1 pilot, Mitch Kelldorf. SaberCat1 aerial cinematographer, Mike Murray. Editor, Mike Murray.

This video isn't your average flv from YouTube. It's probably gonna take a while to download, and I highly recommend using the full screen option -click on the four arrows pointing away from a center point between the HD and Vimeo graphics in the toolbar. You'll be glad you did.

H/T Cuzzin Tom

WWII In Color

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An officer aboard a U.S. submarine in WWII sometime approximately in 1945 shot this video of a crashing B-29, rescuing the entire crew of twelve, and the transfer of the survivors to another sub headed back to base. The film was forgotten until years later, when the tail gunner, Vanden Huevel, received a copy of the film. You really should go read the complete story from KUSA Denver.

Can you imagine getting this video of your rescue sixty five years later?

Aaand, while I'm at it, I got this video in a link to Brightcove (apparently who hosts KUSA's videos), so I wanted to attribute it to KUSA, who did the story. Do you think any combination of search terms entered into their search box would even find this story? I had to do a manual Google site search to find it. Wow - search fail KUSA. The story was from November of last year, but it's obviously in their archives.

At any rate, the video and it's context are kewl, In My Humble Opinion, carping about a news station's website aside.

H/T Lydell