2Lt Lloyd H. Hughes MOH

 

Source

Lt Hughes  was the first Texas A&M Corps of Cadets Grad to receive the Medal of Honor.  There are 9 total, 2 of which have received them in the past few years. The Corps of Cadets taught you well, Lieutenant  as it did to  all the rest of you. I'm not an Aggie, but I have 4 in the next generation and at least 3 more in the following one. Couldn't be prouder.

Anyhow, on with the history.  As many of you know, the Americans came up with a plan to launch 179 B-24 Bombers on an 18 hour, 2400 mile mission to bomb the oil refineries at Ploesti, Romania.  Success would cause a huge fuel problem for the Axis Powers.  Unfortunately, damage was minimal and casualties were high.  54 Aircraft were shot down.  5 Aircrew members received the Medal of Honor, 3 postumously.  

Not a good day for the Air Force.

Source

 

Someone always has to be "Tail End Charlie", the last bomber in the attack, unfortunately that was Lt Hughes and his crew.  Thoroughly awakened now the AAA gunners managed to hit his bomber with both large and small caliber AAA.  Barrage Balloons (Large Balloons with heavy metal cables hanging from them that can cause severe damage to an airplane that flies into one) were very numerous in the target area, also complicating the attack.

So, his aircraft was hit by several rounds of AAA and fuel was leaking from the bomb bay and wing fuel tanks. Not a good thing to be happening when there is fire coming up from the target area and you are a LONG way from home. 

Rather than abort his attack and doing a crash landing, he continued the attack, dropping his bombs accurately on target.  As he left the target area, his left wing was on fire so Lt Hughes slowed down to 100 knots to minimize the flames.  He attempted to crash land his plane in a dry river bed, but as he approached it the left wing collapsed and the plane cartwheeled into the ground. 10 men were on board. Lt Hughes and 5 others were killed in the crash.  2 died within a few days of the crash and the two survivors were POWs.

As you may have surmised, that was an extremely tough, costly mission which, unfortunately, had little impact on the outcome of the war. 

But...If you never try, you always fail!

Rest in Peace, Lt Hughes and Crew.  Hero's all! 

Citation for the Award of the Medal of Honor

For conspicuous gallantry in action and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. On August 1943, 2d Lt. Hughes served in the capacity of pilot of a heavy bombardment aircraft participating in a long and hazardous minimum-altitude attack against theAxis oil refineries of Ploesti, Rumania, launched from the northern shores of Africa. Flying in the last formation to attack the target, he arrived in the target area after previous flights had thoroughly alerted the enemy defenses. Approaching the target through intense and accurate antiaircraft fire and dense balloon barrages at dangerously low altitude, his plane received several direct hits from both large and small caliber antiaircraft guns which seriously damaged his aircraft, causing sheets of escaping gasoline to stream from the bomb bay and from the left wing. This damage was inflicted at a time prior to reaching the target when 2d Lt. Hughes could have made a forced landing in any of the grain fields readily available at that time. The target area was blazing with burning oil tanks and damaged refinery installations from which flames leaped high above the bombing level of the formation. With full knowledge of the consequences of entering this blazing inferno when his airplane was profusely leaking gasoline in two separate locations, 2d Lt. Hughes, motivated only by his high conception of duty which called for the destruction of his assigned target at any cost, did not elect to make a forced landing or turn back from the attack. Instead, rather than jeopardize the formation and the success of the attack, he unhesitatingly entered the blazing area and dropped his bomb load with great precision. After successfully bombing the objective, his aircraft emerged from the conflagration with the left wing aflame. Only then did he attempt a forced landing, but because of the advanced stage of the fire enveloping his aircraft the plane crashed and was consumed. By 2d Lt. Hughes' heroic decision to complete his mission regardless of the consequences in utter disregard of his own life, and by his gallant and valorous execution of this decision, he has rendered a service to our country in the defeat of our enemies which will everlastingly be outstanding in the annals of our Nation's history.

Sources

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lloyd_Herbert_Hughes 

What Did You Call Me?

Source

While out and about on Wednesday, The Missus Herself and I were both feeling a bit peckish, so we stopped at a local favorite eatery (Palmer River Grille) for lunch. She had the pasta, I had the lobster roll. (For a really good briefing on this New England delight, chase the source under the photo, tells you how to make 'em as well.)

Growing up in New England I didn't get the chance to eat a lot of seafood, Vermont's only coastline of note is along Lake Champlain. We did go to Maine often where I developed a taste for clams, both fried and steamed. But lobster, no didn't get a chance to try it. (Though Dad and my Grandfather would often get lobster from somewhere, from where was a mystery to us kids, and cook them in the kitchen. Which seemed a rather cold blooded thing to do. IYKYK.)

But yes, trips to Maine were a thing as a child. Every now and again Mom and Dad would load up the car (to include Your Humble Scribe and his two kid brothers) early on a Saturday morn and off to Maine we'd go. Usually the Wells/York area.

One of the highlights of those trips was to stop along the way for breakfast. Not at some eatery but at a place with picnic tables. Mom would break out the cereal bowls, milk, cereal, and (a special treat) some fresh fruit to go on top of the cereal. Blueberries were a huge favorite of mine, peaches being a close second.

We'd spend the day at the beach, braving the Arctic waters of the North Atlantic (my earliest memories are of sweltering in the hot sun on some sandy beach then going into the water to freeze my butt off), then as the sun began to sink behind us, we'd load up and head back to Vermont. (A three hour trip IIRC. Queue the Gilligan's Island theme.)

More often than not we'd stop at a restaurant in Maine, or along the very short New Hampshire coast, to eat. Mom and Dad always got lobster, at least my memories say so. Once upon a time one of the brothers asked, "What's lobster taste like?"

Panicked adult looks would follow, along with the answer, "This is grownup food, you wouldn't like it. Do you want a hot dog or a burger?"

I learned later in life that the phrase "grownup food" generally meant, "this stuff is damned expensive, if everybody wants lobster, no one gets lobster." I mean I get it, I was once a lowly enlisted guy with a wife and three kids living in base housing making somewhere around a thousand bucks a month. Not bad, but we didn't eat lobster, ever. (We kept  the Hamburger Helper people in business for years!)

As I got promoted, we could indulge, but I didn't get lobster, I'd kind of forgotten about it. Another thing is, we were never stationed in New England or anywhere near New England and trust me, Red Lobster ain't "bad" but I think you get thrown out of New England if you actually ate there while traveling.

When we'd visit New England I'd always get fried clams (whole belly damn you, take those strips back to the bloody kitchen, damn your eyes!), and was content. After retiring, having spent the last years of my Air Force career in Germany (nope, no lobster there, but schnitzel to die for) I actually tried lobster again. Fell in love I did.

Not with the entire animal mind you. When I eat, I want to eat, not wrestle with the thing I'm trying to eat. The Missus Herself once jumped in when our waitress¹ was recommending some rather messy sandwich concoction to me, she said, "Oh no, he doesn't like touching his food, that looks far too messy."

Well, okay, I confess that I am that way. I even get a little grossed out eating fries. Lately it's all done with a fork. Now sandwiches are an exception, as long as they ain't too messy (sorry sloppy joe, you taste good, but no, too messy) I don't mind touching bread, I love bread, bread is good.

So (back to our theme) lobster rolls were just the thing for me. A little messy yes (after all they grill the bun with butter) but I don't mind. Lobster is delicious, there are days I literally crave it.

Wednesday was one such day, but while talking about lobster rolls and a particular friend of ours The Missus Herself said, "She doesn't like too much mayonnaise on her lobster sandwich."²

Time seemed to stop ...

"What did you call it?"

"A lobster sandwich," she answered with a warning look.

"Now babe, understand, this is New England, it's called a lobster roll, because it comes in a roll. Do you call a hot dog a hot dog sandwich? No, it's just a hot dog." My explanation obviously fell on deaf ears.

"Why not call it a hot dog roll?"

Okay, she had me there. English is, in truth, a very confusing and contradictory language at times. In truth, she speaks it very well, the nuances she simply ignores. Until I point them out.

Then she ignores me.

So I went back to eating my lobster sandwich, er, roll and life went on, much as it has done for thousands of years. Though for a very long period with no hot dogs and no lobster rolls. I mean yeah, those are both sandwiches of a sort, we just don't call 'em that.

One way or the other, I love 'em.

¹ Back when you could call them that. I despise political correctness.

² Lobster rolls come in two styles, Connecticut style - which is served hot with melted butter, on a New England style hot dog bun, and Maine style - cold lobster salad, with mayo and often chopped up celery or some other accent. The Connecticut style, while absolutely delicious is far too messy. Melted butter squirting over my fingers, thanks, but no. I'll eat it with a fork if that's all they've got.

John Levitow Medal of Honor

 

 

 

 

  

Source

 

 Ok, campers, there's going to be a lot of smoke and noise, death and destruction in this posting.  When y'all were kids (Sarge was in his 30's but still a kid), we all listened to the song "Puff the magic Dragon" released by Peter, Paul and Mary in 1963.  Catchy tune!

Source

 

Anyhow, somehow that became the nickname for the AC-47.  The C-47 was an early cargo transport for the new USAF.  As in "OK Army, we don't belong to you anymore, but we'll still deliver cargo and provide air support for you provided you give us your cargo aircraft".   Voila!, the C-47 became an Air Force Aircraft.  Well, as the aircraft aged and bigger, better, faster cargo airplanes were developed, the Army  said, "Hey Air Force, we need some Air support aircraft that can provide a lot of firepower and can stay on target for a long period of time." 

 

Source

The Air Force said "we can put some Gatling guns on the C-47 and turn it into a Close Air Support aircraft.  But because it's old, slow and has to be fairly close to the target, it's got to be used at night."

"Light up the sky" takes on a new meaning 

Source

 

So, the AC-47  went to war and did a pretty darn good job. and subsequent more capable versions were/are being built.  Currently that mission is handled by the AC-130.

Anyhow, back to A1C Levitow. The Medal of Honor action occurred on February 24 1969 when he was asked to fill in as Loadmaster for another guy. The aircraft's call sign was "Spooky 71"

His job would be to "set the ejection and ignition timer controls on Mark 24 magnesium flares and pass them to the gunner for deployment. These flares were 27-pound (12 kg) metal canisters 3 feet (0.91 m) long that would burn at 4,000°F, illuminate with the intensity of two million candlepower and burn for two and a half to three minutes."  Source

The gunner wold place the safety pin ring on his finger to pull it quickly when given the order by the pilot.  Unfortunately, the aircraft had a AAA round go off which damaged the aircraft, wounded several people, including A1C Levitow.  It also threw the gunner off balance and he dropped the flare, pulling the fuse.  Despite A1C Levitow's wounds, he managed to crawl over to the fuse, pick it up, hugging it to his body (remember the temperature I cited above, the heat  was rapidly getting there) and crawled to  the door and threw it out.  A couple of seconds later, the flare exploded further damaging, but not destroying the aircraft.  The aircraft managed to make it home.

I'm known to say "I'd rather be lucky than good".  In this case, it was infinitely better that A1C Levito was good AND lucky!
 

President Nixon presented him with the Medal of Honor on May 14, 1970.  Well deserved IMHO.  Unfortunately, SGT Levito died of cancer in November 2000.

SGT Levito proved the validity of this statement.

"No man is worth his salt who is not ready at all times to risk his well being, to risk his body, to risk his life, in a great cause."

Theodore Roosevelt.

 

Rest in Peace, Hero! You earned it! 

 

Citation to accompany the award of the Medal of Honor to Sgt John Levitow

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Sgt. Levitow (then A1C), U.S. Air Force, distinguished himself by exceptional heroism while assigned as a loadmaster aboard an AC-47 aircraft flying a night mission in support of Long Binh Army post. Sgt. Levitow's aircraft was struck by a hostile mortar round. The resulting explosion ripped a hole 2 feet in diameter through the wing and fragments made over 3,500 holes in the fuselage. All occupants of the cargo compartment were wounded and helplessly slammed against the floor and fuselage. The explosion tore an activated flare from the grasp of a crewmember who had been launching flares to provide illumination for Army ground troops engaged in combat. Sgt. Levitow, though stunned by the concussion of the blast and suffering from over 40 fragment wounds in the back and legs, staggered to his feet and turned to assist the man nearest to him who had been knocked down and was bleeding heavily. As he was moving his wounded comrade forward and away from the opened cargo compartment door, he saw the smoking flare ahead of him in the aisle. Realizing the danger involved and completely disregarding his own wounds, Sgt. Levitow started toward the burning flare. The aircraft was partially out of control and the flare was rolling wildly from side to side. Sgt. Levitow struggled forward despite the loss of blood from his many wounds and the partial loss of feeling in his right leg. Unable to grasp the rolling flare with his hands, he threw himself bodily upon the burning flare. Hugging the deadly device to his body, he dragged himself back to the rear of the aircraft and hurled the flare through the open cargo door. At that instant the flare separated and ignited in the air, but clear of the aircraft. Sgt. Levitow, by his selfless and heroic actions, saved the aircraft and its entire crew from certain death and destruction. Sgt. Levitow's gallantry, his profound concern for his fellowmen, at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty are in keeping with the highest traditions of the U.S. Air Force and reflect great credit upon himself and the Armed Forces of his country.

Sources

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Levitow 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_AC-47_Spooky 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter,_Paul_and_Mary 

Wait and See ...

OAFS Photo

As some of you may recall, I'm fighting with a bum knee. No, no, it's not like my knee is unemployed and shiftless, it's, like me, retired. But unlike my brain, I need it to function at full efficiency 24/7. I mean it's part of what keeps me upright, which I need lest I fall into sloth. (Okay, further into sloth ...)

Before I get into that, see the lead-in picture? It's my new internet box. On Thursday, when I still had two mostly functional knees (we'll get to that, patience) The Missus Herself remembered that she needed a new phone as she's going back to the homeland for a few weeks with her sisters, again. Not a problem, she's earned that right.

Anyhoo, after years of faithful service and being abused by grandkids ...

It was definitely time for a new phone. (Okay, the grandkids didn't treat her phone as badly as the chimp does that suitcase, but there were times ... Okay, it got dropped, a lot.)

So off to the AT&T store we went (that's our carrier, we've had them since they took over Cingular just after the last Ice Age) for to purchase a new communication device. (An Android, we don't do Apple, okay, The Missus Herself does have an iPad, but I don't like the way Apple does things. Sorry, it's a personal deficiency no doubt.)

Now at the store one of the chaps asked me who I used for my internet provider.

"Cox."

"Are you happy with them?"

"Happy is not a word I would use, let's just say that it's adequate and is better than the only other competitor in my wee town fast on Narragansett Bay."

Source

I looked at the lad and said, "I'm listening ..."

"It's high speed, up to a billion bps, and it's only $35. How much do you pay now?"

"Wow, $35? I pay a hundred right now."

One thing led to another and they convinced me to try it for a week, gratis. So I took it home, found that my AT&T internet speed was two to sometimes three times faster than Cox. And seriously, like my cell phone, I could theoretically take that box anywhere and have internet. Like my Mom's house. So, I'm a happy camper and Cox lost a customer. (Before you ask, I don't bundle, I do everything on my computer, everything.)

So that being said, the next day is when my right knee decided that he'd had enough of my bullshit and decided to go on strike. I literally could put no weight on it at all, hurt like bloody hell it did.

Was prescribed a week's treatment of Prednisone and here it is (Monday as I write) and I'm down to only using one crutch and that is very much a "just in case" kind of thing. In reality it was better on Sunday as well. My old boss was going to drive over from the other side of the bay, as she had a walker I could use. That's twenty miles as the crow flies, close to fifty miles by road. (That whole Narragansett Bay thing is in the way, gotta go around it, through Providence, which is its own special hell right now due to bridge work.)

I called her while having my coffee and said, "Skip it, thanks but I can walk pretty good now on crutches."

Sunday down to one crutch, Monday I keep it with me, but can walk without it. Yeah, it hurts, which is why I still use the crutch. Doesn't hurt at all if I take the weight off the knee.

A nurse called me up on Sunday to inquire as to the health of said knee, I told her that it was much better. She asked if I wanted to see the orthopedics doc soon, or ...

I said that I'd wait, explained how The Missus Herself was going to be out of town, so any procedure requiring someone to drive me there and back was right out until the fall. She said, "Well, if the pain is under control and you can walk on it, let's play wait and see."

So I'm waiting.

And we shall see ...

Leo Thorsness Medal of Honor

 

I'm not sure where this happened. It happened before I really learned what the Medal of Honor meant or what it took to earn one, but I actually got to meet Col Thorsness in person.  I thought it was at Webb AFB, when my Dad was an IP there.  But come to think of it, my Dad was there in the late 60s,  and Col Thorsness was in the kind care of the North Vietnamese (may they rot in hell) at that time.  So it probably was a visit when I was in college and he came to visit the ROTC Detachment.  In any case, Col Thorsness ranks quite high on my list of folks I wanted to emulate.  You'll see why shortly.

Source

 

 Ok, there are a lot of dangerous missions flying fighters.  Air to Air isn't a walk in the park, neither is dropping bombs well behind the combat line.  Close Air Support is a step up in danger.  All of which I have practiced. However, without a doubt the next step up is Wild Weasels attacking and destroying the enemy's anti-aircraft sites.  If you can shoot at them, you are in range for them to shoot at you.  The only flying mission I can think of that is more dangerous is flying a helicopter into enemy territory to pick up a shot down aircrew.  

Just to set the record straight, when an Air Rescue crew walks into a Fighter Bar, they very rarely have to pay for drinks.  Just sayin'.

Back on Target, juvat!

On Target, Aye, Sarge!

 So, here's Lt Col Thorsness Story.  Yes, Beans the picture below is the actual aircraft he flew on his Medal of Honor mission as well as on the same mission he was shot down on and spent six years under the kind care of the North Vietnamese prison guards.  Just as a comment the Guards did not like Wild Weasel crew members.  You know what I mean. He spent those 6 years getting to know them, unfortunately, very well and in a bad way.

 Ok, the following is copied verbatim from Wikipedia.  There's a heckuva lot more data and detail than I could rework/reword, so Mea Culpa.

 

"On April 19, 1967, Major Thorsness and his Electronic Warfare Officer, Captain Harold E. Johnson, flying F-105F AF Ser. No. 63-8301, led Kingfish flight (three F-105F Weasel aircraft and an F-105D single-seater) on a Wild Weasel SAM suppression mission. The strike force target was JCS target 22.00, the Xuan Maiarmy training compound, near heavily defended Hanoi.  Thorsness directed Kingfish 03 and 04, the second element of F-105s, to troll north while he and his wingman maneuvered south, forcing defending gunners to divide their attention. Thorsness located two SAM sites and fired a Shrike missile to attack one, whose radar went off the air. He destroyed the second with cluster bombs, scoring a direct hit.

After this initial success, matters turned for the worse. Kingfish 02, crewed by Majors Thomas M. Madison and Thomas J. Sterling. Fying aircraft F-105F AF Ser. No. 63-8341, they were hit by anti-aircraft fire and both crewmen had to eject. Unknown to Thorsness, Kingfish 03 and 04 had been attacked by MiG-17s flying a low-altitude wagon wheel defensive formation.  The afterburner of one of the F-105s wouldn't light and the element had disengaged and returned to base, leaving Kingfish 01 to fight solo.

As their F-105 circled the parachutes of Kingfish 02-Alpha and 02-Bravo, relaying the position to Crown, the airborne search and rescue HC-130 command aircraft, Johnson spotted a MiG-17 off their right wing. Thorsness, even though his F-105 was not designed for air-to-air combat, attacked the MiG and destroyed it with 20-mm cannon fire, just as a second MiG closed on his tail. Low on fuel, Thorsness outran his pursuers and left the battle area to rendezvous with a KC-135 tankerover Laos.

Thorsness described the incident:

It appeared the MiG was going after the chutes so I took off after him. I was a little high, dropped down to about 1000 feet, and headed north after him. We were doing about 550 knots and really catching up fast. At about 3000 feet (range) I fired a burst but missed. I lined him up again and was closing very fast. I was a bit below him now. At 700 feet or so I pull my trigger and pulled the pipper through him. Parts of his left started coming off. Suddenly I realized that Harry Johnson was frantically trying to get my attention. There were a couple of MiGs on our tail! If I had hit that MiG dead on, we probably would have swallowed some of his debris. But we got him! I lit the burner, dropped down as low as possible, and ducked into the hills west of Hanoi. The MiGs could not keep up with us.

The F-105F, AF Ser. No. 63-8301, flown by Maj Thorsness and Capt Johnson on April 19, 1967.

As this occurred, the initial element of the rescue force—a pair of A-1E "Sandies"—arrived to locate the position of the downed crewmen before calling in the waiting HH-53 Jolly Green helicopters orbiting at a holding point over Laos. Thorsness, with only 500 rounds of ammunition left, turned back from the tanker to fly RESCAP(rescue combat air patrol) for the Sandies and update them on the situation and terrain. As Thorsness approached the area, briefing the Sandies, he spotted MiG-17s in a wagon wheel orbit around him and attacked, probably destroying another that flew across his path.

He commented^:

One of the MiGs flew right into my gunsight at about 2000 feet (range). I pulled the trigger and saw pieces start falling off the aircraft. They hadn't seen us, but they did now! Johnson shouted at me that we had four more MiGs on our tail and they were closing fast. I dropped down on the deck, sometimes as low as fifty feet, hit the burner, and twisted through the hills and valleys trying to lose them.

Pairs of MiGs attacked each propeller-driven Sandy as it came out of its turn in search orbit, shooting down the leader (Maj. John S. Hamilton in A-1E 52-133905) with cannon fire when he failed to heed warnings from Sandy 02 to break into the attack, and forced the wingman into a series of repeated evasive turns. Sandy 02 reported the situation and Thorsness advised him to keep turning and announced his return.

Although all of his ammunition had been depleted, Thorsness reversed and flew back to the scene, hoping in some way to draw the MiGs away from the surviving A-1. However, as he re-engaged, Panda flight from the 355th TFW strike force arrived back in the area.  It had dropped its ordnance on the target and was en route to its post-strike aerial refueling when Kingfish 02 went down. Panda had jettisoned its wing tanks, making the rescue radar controller reluctant to use it to CAP the rescue effort, but it filled its internal tanks and returned to North Vietnam at high altitude to conserve fuel.

Panda's four F-105s burst through the defensive circle at high speed, then engaged the MiGs in a turning dogfight, permitting Kingfish 01 to depart the area after a 50-minute engagement against SAMs, antiaircraft guns, and MiGs. Panda 01 (Capt William E. Eskew) shot down a MiG, during which the surviving Sandy escaped, and he and his wingman Panda 02 (Capt Paul A. Seymour) each damaged one of the others. Two other MiGs were shot down by members of a third F-105 strike flight, Nitro 01 (Major Jack W. Hunt) and Nitro 03 (Maj Theodore G. "Ted" Tolman), in another of the 17 MiG engagements on this mission.

Again low on fuel and facing nightfall, Thorsness was headed towards a tanker when Panda 03 (Capt Howard L. Bodenhamer), an F-105 of the flight that had rescued Sandy 02, transmitted by radio that he was critically low on fuel. Thorsness quickly calculated that Kingfish 01 had sufficient fuel to fly to Udorn, near the Mekong River and 200 miles (320 km) closer, so he vectored the tanker toward Panda 03. When within 60 miles (97 km) of Udorn, he throttled back to idle and "glided" toward the base, touching down "long" (mid-runway) as his fuel totalizer indicated empty tanks. Johnson told Thorsness upon touchdown, "Leo, that was a full day's work." Source 

 With reference to the last of that passage, I'll bet it was!

 Unfortunately on a similar mission 2 weeks later, he and his backseater were shot down and got to spend 6 years under the kind care of the North Vietnamese.  Both survived that adventure and returned to active duty.

However, the treatment they received caused both to be grounded from flying.  Both retired from the Air Force as Full Bird Colonels.  Col Thorsness passed away in 2017.  Rest in Peace, Hero! and Thanks. 

Once again, Lord, Where do we get such men? He earned his eternal reward on May 2, 2017. Rest in Peace, Sir!

Citation for the Award of the Medal of Honor to Col Leo K. Thorsness

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. As pilot of an F-105 aircraft, Lieutenant Colonel Thorsness was on a surface-to-air missile suppression mission over North Vietnam. Lieutenant Colonel Thorsness and his wingman attacked and silenced a surface-to-air missile site with air-to-ground missiles and then destroyed a second surface-to-air missile site with bombs. In the attack on the second missile site, Lieutenant Colonel Thorsness' wingman was shot down by intensive antiaircraft fire, and the two crewmembers abandoned their aircraft.

Lieutenant Colonel Thorsness circled the descending parachutes to keep the crewmembers in sight and relay their position to the Search and Rescue Center. During this maneuver, a MIG-17 was sighted in the area. Lieutenant Colonel Thorsness immediately initiated an attack and destroyed the MIG. Because his aircraft was low on fuel, he was forced to depart the area in search of a tanker.

Upon being advised that two helicopters were orbiting over the downed crew's position and that there were hostile MIGs in the area posing a serious threat to the helicopters, Lieutenant Colonel Thorsness, despite his low fuel condition, decided to return alone through a hostile environment of surface-to-air missile and anti-aircraft defenses to the downed crew's position. As he approached the area, he spotted four MIG-17 aircraft and immediately initiated an attack on the MIGs, damaging one and driving the others away from the rescue scene. When it became apparent that an aircraft in the area was critically low on fuel and the crew would have to abandon the aircraft unless they could reach a tanker, Lieutenant Colonel Thorsness, although critically short on fuel himself, helped to avert further possible loss of life and a friendly aircraft by recovering at a forward operating base, thus allowing the aircraft in emergency fuel condition to refuel safely.

Lieutenant Colonel Thorsness' extraordinary heroism, self-sacrifice and personal bravery involving conspicuous risk of life were in the highest traditions of the military service, and have reflected great credit upon himself and the U.S. Air Force.

Source 

 

Peace out, y'all!

Why?

Imagery courtesy of Castle Argghh!
(IYKYK)

A number of times over the last year I've learned to check Facebook before wishing someone a happy birthday. Too many times I've checked on an elderly buddy only to discover that he'd passed away at some date in the past, since his/her last birthday.

Now Facebook is kind of an odd thing. I have many friends there whom I've never met in person. Why am I friends with them on Facebook? Common interests, knowing people in the real world we have in common. It's also a great way to keep up with family when those family are spread over the world.

Some of my Facebook friends are folks I used to work with, being retired (twice over now) there are folks I don't want to lose touch with.

That opening picture? I got that from a friend who did it using some sort of AI tool. I thought it came out very well.

The central character is a badger, an American badger to be more specific. He's surrounded by cats, all walking into the sunset. It looks as though they are emerging from a forest, following a narrow path which leads to a clearing.

There's a saying in one of my circle of friends "they've entered the clearing, at the end of the path." Signifying that that person, or beloved pet, we'll get to that, has passed from this existence to the next. Whatever that might be.

That saying comes from The Dark Tower by Stephen King¹ -

“Go now. Our journey is done. And may we meet again, in the clearing, at the end of the path.”

We have other sayings about death, some far cruder, some perhaps more enlightened.

Now to specifics.

I first encountered this fellow over at the old Neptunus Lex blog. He commented as "SCOTTtheBADGER," as his first name is Scott, and he's from Wisconsin, the moniker made sense. (Far better than some I've seen.)

He was a gentle soul, he loved cats, he lived on a farm and had a large number of cats, working and homebodies, that he called friend. He posted a lot of photos on Facebook of him and his cats, usually them piled on top of him during a cold Wisconsin winter.

His birthday was the 21st of August, as Scott was in his mid-sixties² and in relatively good health, at least he hadn't reported any recent ailments, I went ahead and posted on his page for his birthday. Later in the day I saw a post in one of my Facebook groups that Scott had actually passed away, one week before his birthday.

I was stunned, to say the least.

There's just been too much of this death crap going around lately. I know, I know, it's part of that whole "circle of life" thing, but I still hate it.

A friend of mine from the old days on Okinawa lost his wife this year, a cherished colleague from work passed away in May, my daughter's dog of 14 years died, one of my best friends lost her cat of 15 years recently, the list continues. I hesitate to check my phone/computer in the mornings these days for fear of someone else entering the clearing at the end of the path.

There are those who say, "they're in a better place now, no more pain, no more sorrow." I do believe that, the pain and the sorrow is left for those of us mourning our dead.

I mourn you Scott, I truly do. You were a gentle soul, a fellow lover of the feline race, and a good, solid human being.

Though we never met in person, and I hate to realize that now we won't have that chance, I felt I knew you as a person. I counted you as a friend, a comrade, a fellow veteran.

Scott mourned the loss of a number of his feline friends over the years, he had just commemorated the one year anniversary of the passing of one of his favorites. Now he can be with them.

I shall truly miss you, brother.

See you in the clearing someday.

As to the question in the title ...

Someday we'll know.

¹ Before becoming a political radical he was a very good writer. I'll say no more about that.

² I thought Scott was in his fifties, a mutual friend notified me of the error, so I corrected this. Still far too young in my opinion.

Alrighty then ...

IYKYK
OAFS Photo

So yeah, had some soreness (of the painful type) in my right knee on the drive back from Maryland last Sunday. Thought nothing of it, after climbing all over four ships the Thursday before, just figured it for an old age thing.

Friday The Missus Herself needed a new ID, so to the naval station we went, where I discovered that walking was really painful, unless I moved really, really slow.

After the appointment, it was worse. So off to Urgent Care we went. Almost couldn't make it into the building. Once inside, they gave me a wheelchair. Then poked me for blood, had me don a gown so that they could x-ray my knee.

Everything came back normal. The doctor was kinda stunned that my knee showed no evidence of arthritis, kinda stunned me too.

First thought was gout ...

Nope.

Second thought was something skeletal ...

Nope.

So I've got an orthopedic appointment sometime in my future, for now it's ibuprofen and a steroid (prednisone).  Awfully hard to get around, as I write this I walk like a ninety year old man. Right leg won't support any weight at all.

Fortunately, The Missus Herself found the crutches which I had received after having run afoul of Bear who wanted to sniff the flowers while we were out walking. You can read about that here.

So I won't have to sleep in the dining room at the table tonight. I've got that going for me.

It doesn't hurt if I don't move it.

As I live on Earth, I do need to move occasionally, it's gonna be a LONG night methinks.

Getting old ain't for sissies.

Author's Note: This post is dedicated to the memory of my friend Scott the Badger. Friday was his birthday, told him happy birthday on Failbook, only to discover an hour or so later that Scott had passed away on the 14th of August. Damn, that sucks.

I'll always see him in the comments here, gone too soon, brother. Gone too soon.