Spits to the rescue

 Since Sarge is gone elsewhere to discover new and exciting stories or drink beer (AKA leaving his devoted readership to go Cold Turkey on his articles) I ran across a post of a fellow blogger and frequent commenter that has an interesting post on how the Spitfire won the war single handedly in Europe.

Details can be found Here.

juvat

Sarge, Out

OAFS Photo

Yup, I'm literally outside, enjoying life, enjoying the grandkids. Think I'll take a few days off.

The "internet of things" takes up too much of my time, way too much.

So ...

Enjoy.

It Might Be Time ...

Source

Those who study such things, or simply know how to pay attention, knew that this would come. L.A. that is. Like the spoiled brats they are, the Left goes apeshit when they don't get their way.

But like ABC said, it's just folks having fun watching cars burning.

Nero, call your office.

Those who know their history might agree that it's time to "give them a whiff."

Or perhaps a little more precision is required, Peter Grant might be on to something.

Sorry to be so bloody minded today, but this nonsense needs to end.

As for me, I'm glad I'm on vacation, many miles from the effing insanity.

Your mileage may vary.

Be careful out there ...

Progress Report # 3.14159

 Well, Campers, another week older and lots of tasks remaining.  Hence the title, Mathmeticians will tell you there's no end to the decimal definition of Pi.  Presale tasks putting a house on the market are much the same.  

ANYHOW! Our current house is in pretty good shape, we'll just need to fine tune the house (e.g. remove everything from on top of the counters and wiping them down) whenever a walk through is scheduled.  

(Yes, Beans, we'll also need to load up the 4 dogs and one cat when we get notified of a visit.  I'm thinking of a small, round bread whose name is also the acronym that describes this process.)

However, the last remaining major task is repainting the living room/kitchen.  As most of you remember from last week, we couldn't get a close enough color match to just touch up the area.  

 Even though looking at the area straight on, is a different picture.

 Since you can see the touch ups from one view and not another, well...we'll be painting the whole thing.  Gotta touch base with our contractor to see how much he'll charge to do it.  Or, I can resurrect my painting knowledge from back nearly 50 years ago and do it myself.  However....There's Danger! in that option.

Our previous house, on the property, has been pretty well renovated and is ready to be opened as a guest house which will sleep up to 10.  We think it and the two other guest houses (max of 6 guests each) will be a nice draw in the sale of the property.  (Beans, meaning our pretty nice monthly income from them should encourage that sale.)

One of the major projects that Mrs J and I have been working on recently is the reconstruction of a set of chairs we'd found.  

 

They were in not great shape when we found them.  This past week, I've been getting the wobble out of them.  Lots of glue, a few dowels to make them sturdy and stable, an awful lot of sanding and finally restaining them.

 

 Then I turned them over to Mrs J to get them all nice and shiny.

M

I think she did a pretty darn good job! Only one down and four to go. :-)

 

She also had time to develop a new breakfast item.  It's called a "Native American Omelette".

 

 Now...That's funny, I don't care who you are!

 

Peace out, y'All! 

Southbound!

Not the destination, just part of the route ...
Source

'Tis time to go on a vacation - salt water, sea breezes whispering through the pines, sand, seagulls ...

Ah.

I am on a permanent vacation but the place we're going has no lawn and a magnificent view of Chesapeake Bay.

Hey, these guys are retired too!

Blogging could be sparse, who knows?

Enjoy yourselves and try not to empty the liquor cabinet.

And if you do?

Oh well ...

OAFS Photo

Ciao!

An Idea ...

PxHere

"Your Grace, the King is anxious to hear your response to his request."

The Duke looked for a moment at the messenger, then sighed.

"Isn't a request from a king normally considered a command?"

"Certainly, Your Grace, but His Majesty is not your liege lord, merely a neighbor seeking assistance in a matter which involves both of your interests. So it is indeed a request, not a command."

"Walk with me."

The Duke turned on his heel and walked out towards the battlements. A light snow was beginning to fall.

"Your Grace?"

The Duke looked to see that no one had followed him outside. His retainers were used to his impulses and knew better than to intrude. The Duke often preferred the solitude offered by the ramparts overlooking the surrounding terrain.

"Your King knows very well that the Earl and I have never seen eye to eye. We have both laid a claim to the territory your King now seems to covet. Has he sent an envoy to the Earl as well?"

"I am not privy to such things Your Grace, but it stands to reason that His Majesty may well have sent an inquiry to the Earl as well. But honestly, His Majesty finds the Earl to be such a dreadful bore."

"And I am not?"

The messenger bowed slightly, "It is well known that His Majesty and Your Grace share an interest in certain activities that the Earl does not."

"Drinking and playing at cards? Jousting? Whoring? Which hobbies do you think the King and I share?"

The messenger blushed this time, "Not those things, Your Grace, but the study of war and the history of that most violent of human endeavors."

"I see."

Before the messenger could speak again, the Duke turned abruptly and went back inside. The messenger was glad of that, it was getting cold on the battlements of the Duke's castle.

So the preceding is a rough idea I have for a story. It will be fictional and only loosely based on history, though the castle depicted in the opening photo actually exists. It is the Château de Harzé in Aywaille, Belgium, a country I have a great affinity for.

Though I'm starting vacation soon and don't expect to be writing much, this story has been wandering around in my head looking for a chance to ripen and be presented to the world.

We shall see.

It was late yesterday when I was sitting at my desk, watching another episode of The Tudors when it struck me, I hadn't written anything for Saturday.

Friday had been an excellent day, went out to eat with The Missus Herself, had an excellent dinner, then went home and cut the grass in the coolness of the early evening. No doubt this story has been somewhat inspired by what I've been watching as of late, and things which I've been dealing with in real life. We'll see where this goes.

So a late night Friday idea which might go somewhere, we shall see.

Until next time, my Lords and Ladies, I bid you adieu.

The Sixth of June

Into the Jaws of Death
Photo by Chief Photographer's Mate Robert F. Sargent

Eighty one years ago today, Allied troops landed on five beaches in France. Troops from United Kingdom, United States, Canada, France, Australia, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Netherlands, Norway, New Zealand, Greece, South Africa, and Southern Rhodesia came ashore to bring down Hitler's "Thousand Year Reich."

Less than a year later, Germany's cities lay in ruins, Hitler's charred corpse lay in the ruins of his capital, and the Soviet Union held that capital and would, in essence through their East German puppets, hold it until the Deutsche Demokratik Republik (East Germany) was reunited with the Bundesrepublik Deutschland on 03 October, 1990.

My father would have been 97 years old today, he was 16 years old on D-Day. In those days it wasn't unusual for kids to drop out of school in order to join the military and go fight. My father's two older brothers were in the Army, so he wanted to go as well. He dropped out of high school but didn't get overseas before the war was over.

He did spend three years on occupation duty in Berlin and brought back some pretty good stories of his time there. Like the time he and a buddy were driving in a jeep and a Soviet officer stepped into the street and commandeered their services at pistol point.

Apparently the only word in English the Russian knew was "go." So he would point, wave his pistol, and yell 'GO!" at the two G.I.s in the jeep. When he got where he wanted to go, he stepped out of the jeep, waved back to the west and yelled, "GO!"

So go they did.

I miss my Dad.

It's also worth noting that today our very own juvat joins the ranks of geezerhood as he turns 70 on this day. So all you other codgers, welcome the new kid. Be gentle with him, after all he used to be a fighter pilot, so his ego is rather fragile.

Not!

Give him both barrels, he can take it!

The Eyes Have It ...

OAFS Photo

Trip to the eye doc on Wednesday, got the eyes dilated and have been playing Mr. Magoo the whole afternoon and evening. Can't really see to type all that well, so you get pictures of the garden.

I do have a John Blackshoe post that I'm saving for a rainy day and another Dakota Viking post which is extremely Navy-centric, I mean engine room centric. Once I figure it out, I'll publish it.

For now, here's some pictures ...

OAFS Photo

OAFS Photo

OAFS Photo

OAFS Photo

I love this time of year, the garden is a riot of color and there will be more to come. So I'm sharing it with y'all. It's what I do, I share. (Not really, but hey, it sounds good.)

Ciao!

The Battle of Midway, 83 Years Ago

Torpedo Squadron SIX (VT-6) TBD-1 aircraft are prepared for launching on USS Enterprise (CV-6) at about 0730–0740, 4 June 1942. Eleven of the 14 TBDs launched from Enterprise are visible. Three more TBDs and ten F4F fighters must still be pushed into position before launching can begin. The TBD in the left front is Number 2 (Bureau No. 1512), flown by Ensign Severin L. Rombach and Aviation Radioman 2nd Class W. F. Glenn. Along with eight other VT-6 aircraft, this plane and its crew were lost attacking Japanese aircraft carriers somewhat more than two hours later. USS Pensacola (CA-24) is in the right distance and a destroyer is in plane guard position at left (80-G-41686).
Source

Midway is not a battle I post about every year, the last time was 2019, which is now six years ago. (In my mind 2019 wasn't that long ago, though in some ways it's now, to me, a very long time ago. Three more grandkids were born over that time!)

As I was looking through the archives this post popped out. I thought it was fitting to rerun this today.

Never forget those who gave that "last full measure of devotion."

I don't.

U.S. Navy Douglas SBD-3 "Dauntless" dive bombers from scouting squadron VS-8 from the aircraft carrier USS Hornet (CV-8) approaching the burning Japanese heavy cruiser Mikuma to make the third set of attacks on her, during the Battle of Midway, 6 June 1942. Mikuma had been hit earlier by strikes from Hornet and USS Enterprise (CV-6), leaving her dead in the water and fatally damaged. Note bombs hung beneath the SBDs.

Some of those who paid the cost of victory:

Torpedo 8
Standing (L-R): Owens, Ensign Fayle (transferred); Waldron, R.A. Moore, J.M. Moore, Evans, Teats, Cambell.
Kneeling (L-R): Ellison, Kenyon, Gray, sole survivor Gay, Woodson, Creamer, Miles.
(Source)

VT-8's first and best-known combat mission came during the Battle of Midway on 4 June 1942. Flying obsolete Douglas TBD Devastators, all of Lieutenant Commander John C. Waldron's fifteen planes were shot down during their unescorted torpedo attack on Imperial Japanese Navy aircraft carriers. The squadron failed to damage any Japanese carriers or destroy enemy aircraft.

Only one member of VT-8 who flew from Hornet on that day survived in the action, Ensign George Gay. Ensign Gay was rescued the day following the battle. Torpedo 8 was afterwards awarded the American Presidential Unit Citation. (Source)

USS Yorktown (CV-5) burning after the first attack by Japanese dive bombers during the Battle of Midway.

Major ship losses of the Imperial Japanese Navy -

Battle of Midway, June 1942. The burning Japanese heavy cruiser Mikuma, photographed from a U.S. Navy aircraft during the afternoon of 6 June 1942, after she had been bombed by planes from USS Enterprise (CV-6) and USS Hornet (CV-8). Note her third eight-inch gun turret, with roof blown off and barrels at different elevations, Japanese Sun insignia painted atop the forward turret and wrecked midships superstructure. Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives.

Japanese heavy cruiser Mikuma sinking on 6 June 1942.

The burning Japanese aircraft carrier Hiryū, photographed by a Yokosuka B4Y aircraft from the carrier Hosho shortly after sunrise on 5 June 1942. Hiryū sank a few hours later. Note collapsed flight deck at right. Part of the forward elevator is standing upright just in front of the island, where it had been thrown by an explosion in the hangar.

Yorktown's VB-3, commanded by Max Leslie, went for Sōryū, scoring at least three hits and causing extensive damage. Some of Leslie's bombers did not have bombs as they were accidentally released when the pilots attempted to use electrical arming switches. Nevertheless, Leslie and others still dove, strafing carrier decks and providing cover for those who had bombs. Gasoline ignited, creating an "inferno", while stacked bombs and ammunition detonated. VT-3 targeted Hiryū, which was hemmed in by Sōryū, Kaga, and Akagi, but achieved no hits.
 (Text Source)

Death of Akagi.
(Source)

Within six minutes, Sōryū and Kaga were ablaze from stem to stern, as fires spread through the ships. Akagi, having been struck by only one bomb, took longer to burn, but the resulting fires quickly expanded and soon proved impossible to extinguish; she too was eventually consumed by flames and had to be abandoned. All three carriers remained temporarily afloat, as none had suffered damage below the waterline, other than the rudder damage to Akagi caused by the near miss close astern. Despite initial hopes that Akagi could be saved or at least towed back to Japan, all three carriers were eventually abandoned and scuttled. (Source)

Death of Kaga.
(Source)

The butcher's bill -

Japanese Losses:

• 4 fleet carriers sunk
• 1 heavy cruiser sunk
• 1 heavy cruiser damaged
• 248 aircraft destroyed
• 3,057 killed
• 37 captured

American Losses:

• 1 fleet carrier sunk
• 1 destroyer sunk
• ~150 aircraft destroyed
• 307 killed, including 3 killed as prisoners

Of the six Japanese carriers involved in the attack on Pearl Harbor - Akagi, Kaga, Sōryū, Hiryū, Shōkaku, and Zuikaku - only Shōkaku, and Zuikaku were left. They would join Akagi, Kaga, Sōryū, and Hiryū at the bottom of the sea before the war ended in August of 1945.

Japan had sowed the wind, the reaping of the whirlwind was just beginning...

Clothes Don't Necessarily Make the Man ...

Photo by A. Duarte

Before you get all excited and start thinking that the Sarge has taken up Holy Orders or something, the photo is indeed of Your Humble Scribe at his place of worship on Memorial Day Sunday. I'm still a layman and only make the ascent to the pulpit for special (and fairly rare) occasions. The photo was upon one of those occasions

I have a list of men who I knew, who died in the line of duty and I remember them every Memorial Day, usually out loud and at church. This year my pastor, that's him with the beard behind me, asked if I'd mind reading that list (along with a few chosen lines from various poets, which varies year to year) up front during the announcements and prayer concerns moment of our service.

I didn't mind at all. Well, until The Missus Herself told me that I'd have to wear "something decent."

Argh.

Now I do own a couple of suits which actually fit, a few more which don't which I hold in reserve for that mythical day when I'm no longer fat. (Hey, it could happen. And please no lectures on the health benefits of not being fat. I know them all.)

I would quibble with the "something decent" clause of The Missus Herself's admonition as to my chosen garments for that day. None of my clothing exhibits anything but decency and proper form. I'm just, shall we say, a bit casual in my choice of dress.

I'm that guy at work who needs to be told, "don't wear jeans, we're meeting with the customer." You know, the customer who invariably shows up in camouflage uniform. I don't mind that (too much) as those uniforms tend to be far more comfortable.

The first time I showed up in my khaki slacks and button down shirt for a customer demo and most (read all) of the Navy guys present were in cammies, I let my boss know, "that's the last time I do that." He said, "just because they wore work clothing didn't mean ..."

"I mean it boss, last time. Come on, you know better than to let me loose near the customers anyway."

"But, but, you speak their language, they seem to like your hardbitten, crusty senior noncom schtick."

"Well of course they like me, they know damned well that I'd be wearing my cammies instead of khaki and a button down if I had the choice."

So of course the next time we met with the customer I was wearing canvas cargo pants and a polo. All but one of the Navy guys were in cammies, the exception was an old school captain who wore his nice uniform. He didn't care one iota that I was wearing cargo pants and, as I told the boss, "At least they're not jeans."

So I did dress up, coat and tie, pants matched the jacket and everything. At least for our post-church luncheon The Missus Herself didn't want Italian. If that had been the case I would have destroyed my white shirt, it always happens.

I prefer comfortable to fancy, it's just the way I am. I'm sure that if I predecease The Missus Herself, she'll plant me wearing a suit, after all, she won't want me looking like a slob in front of St. Peter now, would she?

Well ...

Family visit/Birthday Week! Ain't Life Grand?

 So...It's Birthday Week at Chateau Juvat.  The First of June is MBD's Birthday.  Seems like day before yesterday when the nurse handed me a swaddled little girl.  Our miracle girl.  We'd had several tries and all failed.  Doc had said if this one wasn't successful, no mas'.  Fortunately...Happy 30 something Birthday!  

The Second is Little J's Birthday. He's the older brother and  has passed another zero birthday.  Wish he was a bit closer to home, so we could celebrate in person.  But, we'll make do with a video conference.  Maybe next year.

Finally, this Friday will be a zero birthday for some cranky old fart!  Yesterday evening as I was prepping dinner, MBD and gang, under the influence of the Diabolical Mrs J, came walking into the kitchen declaring an early birthday celebration!  Surprised the heck out of me!   I must be getting older as I usually sense when Mrs J has something sneaky up her sleeve.  

 

Complete surprise!  Well done, Dear!

 On the "Reposition to College Station" front.  Progress is progressing!  Decluttering is going on full force at our house.  The realtor came by to check on progress.  Had a few suggestions, but was generally happy with the results.  Looking at the 2nd or 3rd weekend in June to go live.   We'll see what will be.

One of the "get it ready" projects was to touch up the walls where there might be a spill or scratch or something.  Took a flake of paint from the wall and took it to Lowes, the clerk ran it through a machine that was supposed to find the formula to duplicate the previous paint. 

As can be seen, not so much. Dug through the partial paint cans in the attic and found the one for the walls.  Took that formula down and got a quart.  Testing it in places is next on the To Do List. 

On the medical front, my ring finger, wounded in a fight with a Brown Recluse, is making good progress. Most of the black and blue stuff has gone away.  The surgical cut has pretty much healed, but the finger is still pretty sensitive.  For some reason it's much more sensitive if I whack it against something.  Who knew?

 

All in All, it was a fun week!

Look Papa, I'm drinking milk from a cup!

Look carefully, First shot at milk straight from a cup? RIIIGGGGHHHHTTTT!  Miss, could I get a straw, and lid please?

 

Peace out, y'all! 

Milites Olim Eramus ... et Iuvenes¹

OAFS Photo²

So I wasn't always an old fart. Seems hard to believe, but there it is. We were all young at some point in time. (Yes, Roberto, even Grandpa.)

I'm not bemoaning the fact of getting not just older, but getting old. While 70 years old isn't what it was in my grandfather's day (when I was a lad of 13, Gramp was 70 and he seemed very old indeed) it's still "up there."

Of course, my grandfather was a far more serious man than I. That's probably got something to do with the fact that I have never really "grown up." Never saw the point of it, I can be serious when the occasion calls for it. Which having spent nearly fifty years in the service of national defense, that sort of job requires a certain amount of "seriousness." After all, it's a job where the idea is to "blow things up and kill people.

On the gripping hand, a certain amount of levity is also required. The seriousness of the job makes a sense of humor necessary, otherwise the contemplation of the end results of one's labors could drive one mad. Folks in the military have a rather dark sense of humor which doesn't always translate well into the civilian world.

And no, that uniform doesn't fit anymore, seems that it has shrunk whilst hanging in the closet lo these many years.

I find myself slipping more and more into vacation mode. Vacation as in "actually go somewhere" as opposed to "don't have to go to work."

We shall be making our way once again down to Virginia to relax upon the shore of Chesapeake Bay, a favorite place of mine. Same place we went last year.

The Venue
No, I can't wait.
OAFS Photo

What I'm trying to say is, you shouldn't really expect a lot of content between now and sometime in mid-June. It might happen, but regaling you with tales of me relaxing and discovering "Com'è bello non fare nulla,³" would constitute cruel and unusual punishment. And I love you all too much to make you suffer in that way.

And yes, there are days that it really is beautiful to do nothing.

Go ahead, ask me how I know.

Ciao!

¹ We were soldiers (sic) once ... and young - borrowed from the title of Joe Galloway's brilliant book on the Battle of the Ia Drang Valley.

² I'm sure my friend Liz would make note of my "80s" spectacles, though that style was still "popular" in the mid to late 90s, which is when this photo was taken.

³ How beautiful it is to do nothing. (Italian)

Slow Day at the Lithium Mine ...

"Borrowed" from the Book of Faces

I mean really, how did that happen?

I am without ambition today, totally being a sloth and not caring.

I'm kind of missing the old job, not the job so much, but certain people there. I made some very good friends and, truth be told, it hurts not seeing them all the time.

In other news, grandson Roberto observed that Grandpa was heavy.

"You mean, like serious, right?"

"No Grandpa, you have a big belly."

Ah yes, the bluntness of children, probably why I like hanging out with them.

Somehow I will shake this ennui.

Oh wait a minute, going on vacation¹ in a week, down to the Eastern Shore and this paradise ...

OAFS Photo

It's going to be great. And yes, no boring moments there, I can tell you.

¹ Seriously Sarge? Aren't you on vacation all of the time now? Well yes, sort of ...

Snippy ...

Source

I have noticed lately that I can be a bit, shall we say, abrupt. With people and with events. It seems that as I age I no longer have the patience to deal with things as might be expected in polite society.

Then again, I've never been much for polite society. I prefer the blunt rollicking manners of the old school military, among equals, of course. Coarse, loud, and with no filter whatsoever.

At my retirement ceremony, some 26 years ago this month, my captain said of me, "If you want Sergeant Goodrich's opinion on something, just ask. But don't be surprised if he gives you both barrels." That was one wise officer. (He was also a damned good one, fellow northern New Englander he was.)

During my civilian career I tried to restrain myself, to no avail. While that worked for a number of years, it got me absolutely nowhere. I wasn't numbered among the "chosen" and never would be, so what did it matter if I was blunt or not?

At one review, my section manager said that one of my reviewers wrote that I "was not a team player." In response I said, "If that means that I don't go along with every stupid idea he has, then no, I am not. He doesn't have a f**king team, he has an entourage."

So yeah, no patience for the niceties when they consist of so much empty air.

While I don't intend to quit blogging, the thought has crossed my mind now and again. So don't be surprised if I get snippy in the comments from time to time. It's happened twice over the last couple of days. It's my natural fatigue at trying to be entertaining. It can be a chore at times.

If I get snippy with you, gentle reader, don't take it personally, perhaps I took your comment the wrong way, misinterpreted what you meant.

Or maybe I just didn't like your comment. It happens.

The really bad ones get deleted, some I let stand. Depends on my mood really.

Merriam-Webster defines curmudgeon as "a crusty¹, ill-tempered, and usually old man." Now "crusty," in the military, can refer to an individual, particularly a long serving individual, who is gruff, surly, and sometimes rude.

So am I a curmudgeon? It would seem so. But rather than plead guilty to that charge, I will simply say, "no contest."

If I hath offended thee ...

Oh well.

And, great picture, innit?

¹ Which Merriam-Webster defines as "giving an effect of surly incivility in address or disposition." I prefer the military variation, though the Merriam-Webster definition does fit.