Borrowing from the Bangles

Okay folks! It's been another exciting week so far!  So,  "Off we go into the wild blue..." You know the rest, in fact you're probably humming the tune right now as you read this.  

So, juvat, what's going on for you to be so excited this week? Well...Tuesday I get a PET scan. One's gotta look forward to that!

No Beans, I'm not taking the dogs to the vet.  No, Mrs J is taking me to the Doc.  A PET scan is a Positron Emission Tomography.  

 

So, you lay down on the two bars and stick your head into the toilet bowl.  They flush it and it takes pictures of the inner working of your noggin. 

That clears things up a lot doesn't it?  Just kidding of course.  It detects early signs of cancer, heart disease and brain conditions.  In my situation those conditions are ordered in increasing likelihood.  My short term memory is horrible since the accident and my heart caused the accident so...

We've also had a bit of a vehicle problem.  Our only vehicle, Mrs J’s car, ran over a nail and we didn't notice it until the next morning when the tire was flat as a pancake.  Got out the spare and the jack and never having had to use it on this car, found out that the wrench head didn't fit the nuts on the wheel.  Since we bought the car used, we think the prior owner just went to WalMart and bought a tire iron.  Hadn't needed it until we did!

Well...Fecal matter!

So, finally gave up and called a service to come and change the tire.  The service guy showed up 15 minutes later and I hear his power tool turning lug nuts.  15 minutes after that, he drove off.  

Mission complete!  We're taking the flat tire to Costco to replace along with the other 3 that are approaching end life.  So be it.

 That's the highlights for this week. (I hope and pray!)  We shall see what will be.  In the meantime, I think I'll go back in time to a song I kinda like.  Hope you do also.

 

 

Peace out y'all! 

Ashore

U.S. Army Photo

It had been a rough ride in, but the entire team made it, along with all of their equipment. Wolf was nervous, nothing had gone wrong yet. He always expected something to go wrong, when it didn't it felt like the pending catastrophe had just been pushed down the line a bit. Something always went wrong, at least that was his experience and he had a lot of that.

He had left the Army when the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq had wound down, garrison life wasn't for him, too much chickenshit to be honest. He was a soldier, he wanted to be in the fight, not languishing at some Stateside base under some career lunatic who only cared about his next promotion.

So he'd got out, the existing security companies didn't suit his style, so he started his own outfit. It wasn't long before he'd secured a number of contracts and a reputation for getting things done.

Security for senior businessmen and politicians traveling to dangerous areas of the world was one thing, this mission was something else altogether.

"They move well, don't they?"

Alistair Stewart handed the night vision set to his colleague, Seamus MacDuff, who surveyed the area of the beach below their position atop the bluff.

"Indeed, they have excellent noise discipline and it's bloody obvious that this is not the first time they've done this. Shall we make contact?"

"Paddy Riley's down there. Wolf is expecting someone to meet him on the beach, Paddy is there for just that purpose."

MacDuff was surprised to see the boats the men had come in on head back out to sea after unloading. Certainly saved them the trouble of hiding the small craft. That had been one aspect of the plan that had worried him. The beach was very open, almost no vegetation to be seen. They would have had to haul the boats off somewhere or leave them to be found by some beachcomber. Seemed that Wolf had really thought this through.

Wolf saw the winking light through his NVGs, he readied his weapon as he walked toward the light.

"Albatross," he hissed into the night.

"Ancient mariner," came the proper reply.

In the dim starlight Wolf could see that the man who stood up to greet him was a rather large fellow. Had to be at least six foot five or more.

"You Wolf?" the man's voice rumbled from his chest.

"The same, you are ...?"

"Paddy Riley, I'm the welcoming committee, my boss and his 2IC are up on the bluff."

Wolf heard "two aye see" and realized that the man meant the second in command, what he'd call the XO, that whole 'separated by a common language' theme seemed to be in force.

"Transport?"

"Yes, couple of lorries stashed nearby."

Wolf nodded, fortunately he'd worked with the Brits in the past so he knew what a lorry was. Why couldn't they just call it a truck?

Wolf's team of fifteen men were riding in the two trucks, heading for Edinburgh. He was sitting in the cab of one vehicle with the man who was his employer's liaison with Wolf's team. Guy's name was Stewart and Wolf looked at him expectantly.

"I suppose you want the details of why you're here, Mr. Wolf."

"That would be nice, fifteen men isn't enough to overthrow a government but it's enough to make a lot of trouble in a country where everyone has been disarmed."

"Well, not everyone, but yes, your average citizen is not going to take up arms. Can't even own a bloody kitchen knife without the proper sort of license. You're not here to overthrow a government, you're here to help establish a new country. Well, to assist in the rebirth of an old country to be exact."

Wolf shook his head, "Scottish independence? Is that why we're here?"

"In a nutshell, yes. But the government in London isn't the only obstacle to that."

"Your rather large population of 'refugees' is another I take it." Wolf had practically spit the word refugee out of his mouth.

"Indeed. They are why Scotland wishes to break away, there's a reason why London is now known as Londonistan. The mob rules down there and in many of the major cities. We have the problem in Glasgow but the further north you go the fewer of that lot are about. The United Kingdom is turning into a third world country and we, in Scotland, want no part of that."

Wolf nodded, "So we're hired guns, muscle you can use to intimidate the bolder of those who might oppose you?"

"Oh dear, Mr. Wolf, not at all. We don't want you to intimidate them, we want you to kill them."

A Rainy Night in Scotland

Source

MacDonald nodded and said, "I see. Well, thank you for letting me know."

Setting the phone down he walked over towards the fireplace, the man sitting on the sofa looked at him, one eyebrow arched. The man wanted to ask, but knew better than to break the silence.

MacDonald sat heavily in the armchair and looked towards the night outside. Rain was still falling, occasionally the wind would shift and drive that rain hard against the window panes, as if someone had just thrown a handful of pebbles at the glass.

"They said no."

Gordon sighed and sat back against the sofa, "No? Just like that, no. I don't suppose ..."

"There is no argument I could make which would change the man's mind. You know what he's like. That business in the Gulf has them tied down for the moment. They've just squeaked through another contentious election and he's got a lot of house cleaning to do. He can't spare the money or the resources to help us."

Gordon stood up and began to pace, "Sure, we've made our bed and now ..."

"At least not publicly ..."

Gordon stopped in midstride, "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is technically treason, but it's the only chance we've got. The only choice really."

"What in God's name are you talking about, Mac?"

"Mercenaries, men we'd have to pay for ourselves, but not right away. The man said that he'd front us the money to get, as he put it, the party started."

Gordon shook his head, he had never gotten used to the way the Americans phrased things. Most of their upper leadership spoke the way a European would, nuanced and polite on the surface, but the man in charge over there now was something of an anomaly. His predecessor had been a bull in a China shop at times but he knew how to conduct business. The new fellow was altogether something else.

Gordon allowed himself a slight grin, "So the man's a cowboy after all?"

"It would seem so."

The boat surfaced some ten miles to the west-northwest of the Fife Ness Lighthouse. There was virtually no chance of being spotted by the Royal Navy, what few ships they had left were in port or in drydock. The nation which once ruled the seas barely controlled the approaches to London these days.

The captain had wanted to stay submerged, "All we need to do is raise the radio mast, there's no need to expose my boat to ..."

The passenger had overruled the captain, "I understand, Sir. But my boys need to get a feel for the seas and the wind. It's a bit of a haul in our small boats from ten miles out. If the signal comes in and it's a 'go,' we'll be on our way and you can slip beneath the waves. But if the weather is shite, I'll need to see that first hand."

The OOD let the captain know that the lookouts were in place on the sail, "Heavy swells, light rain, but not a lot of wind. Manageable for our visitors, barely."

"Con, radio," came over the speaker near the captain's head.

"Captain here, report."

"Signal received, dogsbody is a go. Repeat, dogsbody is a go."

"Understood."

Before the captain could say another word, his passengers were in motion, getting their gear topside and making preparations to head for land. As their commander brushed past him, the captain reached out and grabbed the man's sleeve.

"Godspeed."

Special operator Martin Wolf (a pseudonym), nodded and said, "Thanks for the lift." Then disappeared through the after hatch.

"Sir, what the hell is going on?" the XO sounded pissed off, he had not liked the mission when it had been explained to him two days out of Norfolk. He liked it even less now that he realized that they were putting armed men ashore on the coast of their closest ally, without their knowledge.

"The less you know the better, Mike. Prepare to get underway as soon as our passengers have departed."

"Aye, Captain, but ..."

"Enough Mike, talk to Chaps, I've heard enough. I'll be in my cabin."

Author's Note: Bit of an experiment really, we'll see where this goes. The idea has been camped out in my head for a few days now, time to get on with it I suppose.

Ed Rasimus redux

 

 OK, Campers, as you may have noticed, things are a little hectic in the juvat domain lately.  We've still got a few Doctor visits to attend in the next week or so.  So, it shall be.  The Doc's haven't found anything serious so we're hanging in there. we hope that trend continues obviously.  But it does take time away from other "duties".

So...Here's a rerun about a Fighter Pilot I had the great honor to meet, be a student of his, a wingman and eventually a Flight Lead and have him as a wingman occasionally.  I did fix a couple of my errors from one of my very first blog posts in this version though.  

One of my greatest thrills was reviewing my gun camera film from a 1 v 1 BFM (i.e. dogfighting) mission.  My gun camera film showed my pipper steady on his airplane for the requisite time of flight of the bullets.  Upon review, he swore he'd done his best.  I still have my doubts.

A great Fighter Pilot, Officer, War Hero and American.  I miss him. 

So a repeat posting.  Cheers, Ed! 

 Ed Rasimus

Ed Rasimus  (AKA Ras) was a retired United States Air Force Major and a veteran fighter pilot of the Vietnam war. He passed away on 30 January 2013. Ras flew more than 250 combat missions in F-105 Thunderchief and F-4 Phantom II fighters during the conflict and received the Silver Star, the Distinguished Flying Cross five times, and numerous Air Medals. Rasimus was an award winning author residing in Northern Texas.
Published Books

• Fighter Pilot: The Memoirs of Legendary Ace Robin Olds - Co-authored by Robin Olds and Christina Olds - ISBN 978-0-312-56023-2 - St. Martin's Press (April 13, 2010)

• Palace Cobra: A Fighter Pilot in the Vietnam Air War - ISBN 978-0-312-94876-4 - St. Martin's Paperbacks (August 28, 2007) (Hardcover edition, April 2006, St. Martin's Press)

• Phantom Flights, Bangkok Nights: A Vietnam War Pilot's Second Tour - ISBN 978-1-58834-199-0 - Smithsonian Books (November 30, 2005) (Never Published, released as Palace Cobra in April 2006, hardcover from St. Martin's Press)

• When Thunder Rolled: An F-105 Pilot Over North Vietnam - ISBN 978-0-89141-854-2 - Presidio Press (September 28, 2004) (Hardcover edition, January 2003, Smithsonian Institution Press)*

I discovered in Ras's blog, Thunder Tales, back in December of 2012. Just in time to learn that the man was dying. Less than a month after I'd discovered another jewel in the blogosphere,  Ras was gone.

It was a rough year for fighter pilot bloggers and those who loved them.  Ras was laid to rest Wednesday, the First of May, in the year of Our Lord Two-Thousand and Thirteen at Arlington National Cemetery. One who was there had this to say.

I didn't know about the man  until I met him at Holloman AFB where he was my instructor for my transition to AT-38 IP, I wish I had prior to that. I knew men like him. They all went downtown, Route Pack 6.

His blog is still there. It will remain linked on this blog until this blog is no more.

I know a number of my readers loved the man dearly. Reading old posts on his blog, I can see why.

Requiescat in pace Major. Hope to have a beer with you someday.

Tell Lex, I'm buying.

Sure They're Ugly, But ...

Source

... they're also completely ineffective.

The Royal Navy's newest aircraft carriers illustrate the sad state of that navy. The French under the Bourbons and Bonaparte couldn't destroy the RN, neither could the Germans in two World Wars, sadly, all it took was bad government at home.

A cautionary tale ...

Well....NUTS!

 

Sorry folks, I've got very little to offer today.  Frankly, I don't know how Sarge went so long publishing 6 out of 7 days a week.  In any case, we've had a lot of Doctor's Visits lately both for Mrs J and I.  Most of today was taken up with Mrs J having to get a couple of MRI exams.  

As many of you are aware, she was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago.  Fortunately, the doctors found it early and Chemo and Radiation worked at the time.  Well this week she had to go through a couple of MRI's to see that the wee bastiges were still gone.  

A couple of MRI's, juvat?  Why?  Well, I'm not a doctor nor have I ever been to med school, but as I understand it, one was a plain MRI of "her parts" and the other one checked the same things but with a dye injected into her.  I suppose that makes the bastiges easier to find then.

The outcome?

No hits, no runs, no bastiges left on base!

Yes, I've said "Thank You" to the Big Guy, several times this month.  But I am truly grateful.

So,  I'll see all y'all a bit later!

juvat...Out! 

The Throttle is Set to Idle ...

Portrait of Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos
Francisco de Goya, 1798

So we haven't seen any new fiction here for some time. I'm just not feeling it.

Health issues (nothing serious), deaths in the family (both by blood and by choice), and an upcoming eye procedure have all been weighing heavily on my mind. Kinda saps the creativity dontcha know?

But in truth, I've been taking advantage of being retired. For years I was at the beck and call of others, now I have no boss, no one telling me what to do and when. I'm my own man, though I do have a partner in crime, The Missus Herself and I are a team, no one is in charge and it works for us. When I'm not being a selfish prick, which does happen from time to time.

I do have some story ideas floating around, nothing firm, just ideas. One involves real-world events in an abstract sort of way, another involves World War II and the Italian Campaign. James Holland's books on that campaign are an inspiration, to be sure. I'm about halfway through the first volume, Sicily '43: The First Assault on Fortress Europe, and I'm learning a lot about that fight. Fascinating stuff, Mr. Holland does the sort of thing I enjoy, looking at all sides, the Americans, the British, the Germans, the Italian soldiers, and the Italian civilians. Everyone suffers in war, this book shows that well.

Bear with me, things will get back in stride eventually. But I'm taking my time about it, after all I'm not getting paid to do this, I do it because I enjoy it. So when I'm not, I ease up on the throttle.

So hang in there.

Ciao!