Friday Musings*

Panzerfaust-armed Finnish soldiers (soldier in foreground is also armed with a Suomi KP/-31) passing the wreckage of a Soviet T-34 tank, destroyed by detonation, in the Battle of Tali-Ihantala.
(Source)

That opening photo is for Juvat. He seems to like seeing knocked out tanks. That T-34 that those grinning Finns are marching by looks to have had it's ammunition storage cook off rather violently. I mean a tank is a tough sumbitch but if you punch a hole in it it will most likely cease to function. If an incoming round hits the ammunition, bad things happen.

It's what you might call a rapid, and catastrophic, disassembly of the vehicle. You don't want to know what becomes of the people inside that tank, trust me.

So I made a command decision on Wednesday that I would not be working on Friday, the day of this post (remember, I write this stuff the day before, and yes, it gets confusing at times, you don't want to be inside my head, trust me). There were a few reasons for what I thought to be a very wise decision -

1. I was off all last week, the first full week back is always a bear, so...
2. The WSO and the grand-progeny are still in town, back from their adventures at the great falls of Niagara, and as they're off to the Big Apple for most of next week, I thought to spend some more time with them, so...
3. Honestly, I felt like not working at all this week. I got a lot done, but it was a struggle. I'm tending to stay up too late which never helps, so...
4. I am inherently lazy, it's not that hard to convince myself to take a long weekend.

So there's that. As you read this, I am playing with my grandkids, unless you're Paul who will often arise at some hideously early and dark hour of the morning and peruse the blog. In that case I will probably be asleep, returning to my rack after ensuring that the feline staff has a fresh dish of water and summat to dine upon.

Beans coined an excellent term yesterday, "War-German." Now War-German encompasses terms which most Germans are unfamiliar with, to wit -

• Raketenpanzerbüchse = German copy of the American bazooka, literally, rocket armor rifle, which the German troops had two slang terms for:
• Panzerschreck = Armor fright, or tank terror and
• Ofenrohr = stovepipe
• and others too numerous to mention...

By now you probably want to know what the thing looked like, here it is...

(Source)

The "stovepipe" nickname is particularly apt based on looks alone, when you consider the smoke and flames generated by the thing (hence the protective shield in front of the user's face) the nickname is even more appropriate. The guys who used these had to be rather brave and rather nimble. After firing (at a tank, at ranges of 150 meters of less) the crew had to move quickly, or be reduced to ex-Germans when the tank (if they missed), or it's supporting infantry or another tank (if they didn't miss), fired back. But those guys weren't nearly as brave as these guys.

(Source)

Now that odd looking contraption was what was known as a Panzerfaust, or armored fist. It was a rocket propelled grenade carrying a shaped warhead which would eat its way right through the armor on a tank. Frying the crew and often cooking off the ammunition inside (refer back to the Finns in the opening photo).

You had to be very close to use these things, 60 meters according to the book, much closer in reality. It was a one shot, throwaway weapon and the Russians copied the idea in the ubiquitous RPG, this thing -

Polish soldier with an RPG-2

Now I always had thought that "RPG" was the English version of the name, "Rocket Propelled Grenade," and it is often referred to that way, but in reality "RPG" is the Anglicized version of its actual Russian name, Ручной противотанковый гранатомёт, or Ruchnoy Protivotankovy Granatomyot using English letters. Literally "hand-held anti-tank grenade launcher," a very technically accurate and concise name.

Perhaps that's what's called "War-Russian."

Upon arrival at Global Chant Headquarters after finishing up the paying gig for the week, I played with the grand-progeny a bit, exchanged witty banter with the adults, we ate dinner/supper (as the senior granddaughter calls it), and then we all settled down to overwhelm the Sarge's Wi-Fi. Alright, my computer, my phone, the phone of The Missus Herself, The WSO's phone, the television, and of course an iPad or three. Now all week my system has handled this load magnificently.

Then round about 1930 local, the senior granddaughter enters the command post and wants to know, "Grandpa, why does your Internet suck?"

Huh?

Sure enough, my computer reports that it has lost the connection. Then it was back, then it was down, then it was back. My machine reported that the speed was also abysmal, that is when it was actually connected.

I tried doing a cuppla things on my end to no avail, had to do the dreaded tech support call, via chat on my smart phone. First thing I notice is that the technician assigned to my call is named Miley C.

Huh?

No, I did not make any snide remarks about "twerking." Remember, I wanted my Internet restored, no sense antagonizing the person assigned to assist me. (For those who don't know what "twerking" is, thank your lucky stars. Google (or Bing) it if you must, but be forewarned...)

Anyhoo, the nice lady, for I assume she was both, proceeded to ask me how many devices were on my home network. Going for the day-to-day average, I said "Four." She then told me that I would need to "hard wire my device."

Huh?

"You need to hook your laptop directly to your modem."

Rather than go through the bother of explaining that I, disdaining most laptops as inconsequential things, use a desktop computer, I told her that I already had a computer attached ("hard wired") to my modem. (Oh yes, she also asked me if I had checked the connections to make sure nothing was loose. I assured her that I had.) She then said that she would now remotely reset my modem. Which was what I had been after from the beginning.

She did, the Internet came back in all it's glory. With much rejoicing, the bairns returned to watching My Little Pony on Netflix. For my part, I expressed myself as a certain badger of my acquaintance would...

After which it struck me that the hour was getting late and I had yet to write a post.

So here it is, in all it's glory.

Hey, you get what you pay for.

What?

Oh, all right, here's a video

More burning armored vehicles, I'm sure Juvat is beside himself with joy.




* Title stolen from Lex, obviously.