A Recommendation

Commander Salamander has a brilliant post up today. As I'm tied down at work, trying to be productive and all, the least I can do is send you off to read some good stuff by a chap I respect a great deal.

Go, go read it. Perhaps I'll have something up later.

I Want One

SdKfz 222

The Sonderkraftfahrzeug 222 or Leichter Panzerspähwagen or Special Purpose Vehicle 222 or Light Armored Reconnaissance Car. I think having one of these would be pretty nifty. Especially when I make the drive Up North, or Down South. (Yes, I'd like that with the 20mm cannon and the coaxial machine gun, thank you very much.)

Monday I decided to leave Chez Sarge later than normal to make my way to my FOL (Forward Operating Location, aka "Up North"). Normal departure time on Mondays is 0500. To all my retired colleagues, that translates to "too damn early". Unless you're one of those types who has this sick joy at being up before the birds even wake up. You know who you are. My maternal grandmother used to tell everyone how she "normally" got up at 0500. Everyday. Even after she'd sold the farm. Everyone was rather impressed by my grandmother's ability to get up so early. Except the Nuke. One day when her great-grandmother was going on about how early she gets up and yada-yada-yada, the Nuke jumped in with "But Gram, you go to bed at like 1900 every night, you're logging a good solid ten hours of rack time. Sure, I get up at 10, but I go to bed at 2, that's 8 hours. You're getting 10. I am not impressed." Hhmm, I see I've digressed. Big surprise that, eh?

Anyhoo...

Where was I? Oh yeah, Monday. I left later than usual. Okay, let's pick that thread back up again.

Instead of being wheels up (metaphorically speaking), I did not depart the manse until shortly after 0800. 'Twas a beautiful day, the birds were still singing (only now they could see what they were doing) and I was on the road. Thinking to myself, "What the heck was I thinking all those years? Getting up at 0400, leaving at 0500. This is nice."

Traffic through the capital city of Little Rhody (Providence most call it, I will sometimes refer to it as Rhodiopolis. Just because I can and I am weird that way. Or "corny" as the Nuke might say) was "not bad". We mostly moved along smartly except for a few spots where the idiots who love bouncing from lane to lane like frenetic squirrels hopped up on meth-amphetamines were driving. You know the type, far left lane until their exit is a hundred yards away, then the mad swerving dash across four lanes of traffic to make the exit.

Eventually I cleared the city and proceeded north at a good pace. Until I see the sign indicating that the Mass Pike (I-90 for you non-locals) is seven miles away. The second thing I see is that traffic is at an absolute stand still.

Wonderful.

So. Forty minutes later I clear the congestion of all the cars trying to leave I-495 and get on I-90. Mostly towards Boston. Me, I continue north. (Yup, 40 minutes to go 7 miles. Not exactly "life in the fast lane", neh?)

Eventually I arrive at the FOL. To face another week battling the dark adversaries of all that is beautiful and good. Yup, management.

It's a paycheck.

Now I remember why I get up at oh-dark-thirty to make the trek North. Apparently the idiots to whom the states of Rhode Island and Massachusetts issue driver's licenses don't get up that early. The roads are fairly clear. And safe.

Though for those days when I feel the urge to sleep in, the SdKfz 222 would certainly be "nice to have".

On Station

"Roger Red Crown, this is OAFS Five-Zero MigCAP, Angels Three-Zero, full load of 'Winders and Sparrows, on station at this time."

"Copy OAFS Five-Zero, no idea what to post today, correct?"

"Uh, Roger that Red Crown, I am bingo ideas, bingo motivation. It's Monday."

"Copy all OAFS Five-Zero."

Father's Day, 2013

My Dad

Happy Father's Day Dad!

Dad, it has now been four Father's Days without you. 2010, 2011, 2012 and now 2013. Yet my memories of you remain strong. You were an awesome Dad. Simply awesome. I know my brothers feel the same.

Much of who I am is because of you.

Ya done good Dad. Real good.

I miss you.

A lot...

Crickets Chirping...

Where is everybody?

I am suffering from some sort of nasal, upper bronchial, nastiness. Hence the absolute lack of posting today. I will attempt to fall back to prepared positions, resupply, take on new recruits and regain my strength in order to re-enter the blogging lists tomorrow.

Until then, talk quietly among yourselves. At the end of the night, turn off the lights, lock the doors and proceed to your vehicles. No doubt I will be feeling better tomorrow.

In the meantime, pity me.

Wuss...

198 Years Ago

Le Champ de Bataille

On a Thursday in June 1815, the French l'Armée du Nord crossed from France into Belgium. It was the culmination of Napoleon's 100 Days, the last roll of the dice. Napoléon's Grande Armée had already passed into legend some years before. The Armée du Nord was but a shade of the army which had made all of Europe tremble. But once again, a French army was on the march. Once again, Europe trembled.

Some of you may know of my passion for military history. In particular the history of the Napoleonic Wars which stretched from 1804 to 1815.

Eagle of the Sixième Régiment d'Infanterie de Ligne

I have walked the battlefield of Waterloo on many occasions. To survey those now peaceful fields and to think back and contemplate the fact that on those very fields, thousands of men and horses struggled and died gives you pause.

The Morning of Battle

Scotland Forever!

The Artillery Will Advance!

The Prussians Storm Plancenoit

Two locations of particular note still stand on the battlefield of Waterloo, the farm of La Haye Sainte and the Chateau d'Hougoumont. Standing outside of these buildings and picturing the horrific fighting which place in and around these places left me in awe of how men could stand such carnage. For warfare took place in those days at fairly close range. The old saying about "the whites of their eyes" held true. The weapons of those days were of short range and questionable accuracy.

We, as Americans, like to think we defeated the British Army in the Revolution because we hid behind rocks and trees while they stood out in the open with their bright red coats. Actually we didn't start to do well until such men as Baron von Steuben taught us to stand in straight lines and fire all at once. Much like the British.

For those smooth bore muskets to have much of an effect, you had to fire off a lot of them at once. Only then could you be assured of hitting someone!

Chateau d'Hougoumont Today

Chateau d'Hougoumont in 1815

La Haye Sainte Today

La Haye Sainte in 1815

The Attack of the French Cavalry
Marshal Ney

The Scots Greys and Gordon Highlanders

Scottish Square Assaulted by French Heavy Cavalry

From PiperMackay.com

Piper Kenneth MacKay at the Battle of Waterloo, 1815. A heroic piper of the British army was Piper Kenneth MacKay of the old 79th (Cameron) Highlanders.

This regiment was hard pressed like the rest of Wellington's army during the long hours of battle on June 18th, 1815 at Mont St. Jean near the village of Waterloo. During the course of the afternoon the French subjected the British to a number of massive cavalry charges in hopes of breaking Wellington's centre. The 79th Highlanders were forced to form squares, an all around defensive formation that infantry assumed against cavalry during this period. 

While the French cavalry dashed themselves vainly upon the British squares, the French horse artillery moved in close to fire murderously upon the exposed British troops. The situation was desperate as entire files were blown away by the French artillery. The 79th, like many other British battalions, were near the breaking point. The pipes and drummers of the battalion were kept in the centre of the square together with the colours and the regimental staff. 

During one of the lulls of the battle, Piper MacKay of the Grenadier company boldly marched in a deliberate fashion around the outside of the 79ths square playing the famous Piobaireachd "Cogadh no Sith" (Peace or War). 

MacKay's sangfroid under fire no doubt inspired his comrades, and the entire battalion. His devotion to the war like music of the pipes, played in these most appropriate circumstances, caught the public's imagination. 

King George III was so inspired by the event that he personally presented MacKay with a specially made set of silver mounted pipes that remain a treasured item in the regimental museum of the Queens Own Highlanders.

Here is that very tune that Piper MacKay played for his regiment that day.

The Last Attack of the Imperial Guard

Wellington and von Blücher Meet at La Belle Alliance

La Belle Alliance Today

L'Aigle Blessé

The Emperor Flees the Battlefield

The Aftermath

It is well that war is so terrible, otherwise we should grow too fond of it. General Robert E. Lee

Prayers for Joe...

The Scribe and The Brass
Joe Galloway, Gen. Hal Moore, & Col. Ted Swett

According to blog buddy SKK, Joe Galloway (We Were Soldiers Once... And Young) has had to undergo surgery for a serious lung condition.

Prayers for Joe...