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.

I Am ...

OAFS Photo

... the Gardener, or Landscaper, if you will.

For a number of years I had a crew to do the yard. The first one was put out of business by Covid (ahem). Primarily because their truck broke down and with the rising cost of everything, replacing it wasn't going to happen. Not to mention that the price of fuel would have cost them business as they would have to raise their prices.

Second crew was actually one guy, he was great, then he hurt his back, badly.

So now I am the crew. I break the lawn problem into two pieces (days if you will), front yard one day, back yard the next. Sometimes there's a two day lapse between front and back. Why, you ask.

Because I can.

I was in fine fettle on Wednesday, or as they say in Germany, Mittwoch, literally midweek. I had knocked out the front yard on Tuesday and tackled the back on Wednesday. Each day, once I had downed tools, I treated myself to an adult beverage ...

OAFS Photo

My youngest kid brother, The Musician, had provided me with that IPA for my natal day earlier in the month. I had two left, so I consumed one on Tuesday, the other on Wednesday.

Not too hoppy for an IPA, it seemed to me to taste "just right." Went down smooth it did, eased the aches and pains of slinging the string trimmer and chasing the mower around for an hour and a half.

The grin was warranted, it was a good day!
OAFS Photo

Life is good if you let it be. Being retired is awesome though I do really miss my old comrades. Did the breakfast thing with them last Saturday, found myself pining for the lab afterwards. The Missus Herself suggested "volunteer work," I said ...

"Sure, if it involves naval combat systems."

Forty nine years of being either in the military or involved with the military is hard to shake. I feel like an old war horse who snorts and paws the ground every time hears a trumpet.

So now I throw myself into landscaping, hey, it gets me outside!

The gate to the vegetable garden. Kind of a big gate for such a wee garden, but I like it.
OAFS Photo

Besides which, you can't beat the view in the garden, peaceful it is. I can almost imagine that the world doesn't exist beyond there.

Ciao!

Why?

A G.I. comforting a grieving infantryman in the Korean War.
(U.S. Army / Sergeant 1st Class Al Chang)

"What had been the point?" can be asked of far too many American military operations in the 20th and now the 21st centuries. We need to be more selective about when and where we risk our blood and treasure. Never as mercenaries, or to virtue signal, but only when our VITAL national interests are at stake. Never enter civil wars of other nations or cultures. Never defend national borders which have ebbed or flowed over the millennia. When necessary, kill people and break stuff as retribution or to establish domination, but never engage in nation building- leave that to the locals.... and let them pay to recover from their foolish actions which earned Uncle Sam's boot up their butt. - John Blackshoe

Coming on the heels of the Memorial Day weekend as it did, I thought that John's comment was excellent.

Once upon a time I read about Major General Smedley Butler, a two time recipient of the Medal of Honor. He made a speech (which became a book) about war being a racket. I used to disagree with his view.

Not so much anymore. I quote that book below, at length.

War is a racket. It always has been.

It is possibly the oldest, easily the most profitable, surely the most vicious. It is the only one international in scope. It is the only one in which the profits are reckoned in dollars and the losses in lives.

A racket is best described, I believe, as something that is not what it seems to the majority of the people. Only a small "inside" group knows what it is about. It is conducted for the benefit of the very few, at the expense of the very many. Out of war a few people make huge fortunes.

In the World War [I] a mere handful garnered the profits of the conflict. At least 21,000 new millionaires and billionaires were made in the United States during the World War. That many admitted their huge blood gains in their income tax returns. How many other war millionaires falsified their tax returns no one knows.

How many of these war millionaires shouldered a rifle? How many of them dug a trench? How many of them knew what it meant to go hungry in a rat-infested dug-out? How many of them spent sleepless, frightened nights, ducking shells and shrapnel and machine gun bullets? How many of them parried a bayonet thrust of an enemy? How many of them were wounded or killed in battle?

Out of war nations acquire additional territory, if they are victorious. They just take it. This newly acquired territory promptly is exploited by the few -- the selfsame few who wrung dollars out of blood in the war. The general public shoulders the bill.

And what is this bill?

This bill renders a horrible accounting. Newly placed gravestones. Mangled bodies. Shattered minds. Broken hearts and homes. Economic instability. Depression and all its attendant miseries. Back-breaking taxation for generations and generations.

For a great many years, as a soldier, I had a suspicion that war was a racket; not until I retired to civil life did I fully realize it. Now that I see the international war clouds gathering, as they are today, I must face it and speak out.

Again they are choosing sides. France and Russia met and agreed to stand side by side. Italy and Austria hurried to make a similar agreement. Poland and Germany cast sheep's eyes at each other, forgetting for the nonce [one unique occasion], their dispute over the Polish Corridor.

The assassination of King Alexander of Jugoslavia [Yugoslavia] complicated matters. Jugoslavia and Hungary, long bitter enemies, were almost at each other's throats. Italy was ready to jump in. But France was waiting. So was Czechoslovakia. All of them are looking ahead to war. Not the people -- not those who fight and pay and die -- only those who foment wars and remain safely at home to profit.

There are 40,000,000 men under arms in the world today, and our statesmen and diplomats have the temerity to say that war is not in the making.

Hell's bells! Are these 40,000,000 men being trained to be dancers?

Not in Italy, to be sure. Premier Mussolini knows what they are being trained for. He, at least, is frank enough to speak out. Only the other day, Il Duce in "International Conciliation," the publication of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, said:

"And above all, Fascism, the more it considers and observes the future and the development of humanity quite apart from political considerations of the moment, believes neither in the possibility nor the utility of perpetual peace. . . . War alone brings up to its highest tension all human energy and puts the stamp of nobility upon the people who have the courage to meet it."

Undoubtedly Mussolini means exactly what he says. His well-trained army, his great fleet of planes, and even his navy are ready for war -- anxious for it, apparently. His recent stand at the side of Hungary in the latter's dispute with Jugoslavia showed that. And the hurried mobilization of his troops on the Austrian border after the assassination of Dollfuss showed it too. There are others in Europe too whose sabre rattling presages war, sooner or later.

Herr Hitler, with his rearming Germany and his constant demands for more and more arms, is an equal if not greater menace to peace. France only recently increased the term of military service for its youth from a year to eighteen months.

Yes, all over, nations are camping in their arms. The mad dogs of Europe are on the loose. In the Orient the maneuvering is more adroit. Back in 1904, when Russia and Japan fought, we kicked out our old friends the Russians and backed Japan. Then our very generous international bankers were financing Japan. Now the trend is to poison us against the Japanese. What does the "open door" policy to China mean to us? Our trade with China is about $90,000,000 a year. Or the Philippine Islands? We have spent about $600,000,000 in the Philippines in thirty-five years and we (our bankers and industrialists and speculators) have private investments there of less than $200,000,000.

Then, to save that China trade of about $90,000,000, or to protect these private investments of less than $200,000,000 in the Philippines, we would be all stirred up to hate Japan and go to war -- a war that might well cost us tens of billions of dollars, hundreds of thousands of lives of Americans, and many more hundreds of thousands of physically maimed and mentally unbalanced men.

Of course, for this loss, there would be a compensating profit -- fortunes would be made. Millions and billions of dollars would be piled up. By a few. Munitions makers. Bankers. Ship builders. Manufacturers. Meat packers. Speculators. They would fare well.

Yes, they are getting ready for another war. Why shouldn't they? It pays high dividends.

But what does it profit the men who are killed? What does it profit their mothers and sisters, their wives and their sweethearts? What does it profit their children?

What does it profit anyone except the very few to whom war means huge profits?

Yes, and what does it profit the nation?

Take our own case. Until 1898 we didn't own a bit of territory outside the mainland of North America. At that time our national debt was a little more than $1,000,000,000. Then we became "internationally minded." We forgot, or shunted aside, the advice of the Father of our country. We forgot George Washington's warning about "entangling alliances." We went to war. We acquired outside territory. At the end of the World War period, as a direct result of our fiddling in international affairs, our national debt had jumped to over $25,000,000,000. Our total favorable trade balance during the twenty-five-year period was about $24,000,000,000. Therefore, on a purely bookkeeping basis, we ran a little behind year for year, and that foreign trade might well have been ours without the wars.

It would have been far cheaper (not to say safer) for the average American who pays the bills to stay out of foreign entanglements. For a very few this racket, like bootlegging and other underworld rackets, brings fancy profits, but the cost of operations is always transferred to the people -- who do not profit.

- Major General Smedley Butler, USMC (Source)

There are things worth fighting for, politicians suck at determining what those things are.

I'll be back when I'm in a better mood.

Ciao.

Over There - La Mort est Là

Gassed: 'In arduis fidelis'
Gilbert Rogers (PD IWM)

Murphy was on the floor of the trench, his mask was on but the eyepieces kept fogging up. He was terrified of attempting to clear them, he didn't know how or even if that was possible. So he stayed put, hugging his rifle and trying not to hyperventilate.

"Murphy, get up!"

He felt a hand on his coat sleeve, jerking his arm, someone was yelling at him. He shook his head vigorously, he wasn't going anywhere. Then he felt a kick.

"Goddammit, get off your ass!"

Murphy looked in the direction of the voice, he noticed then that the eyepieces of his mask were clear. He also recognized his platoon leader, 2nd Lieutenant Johnson, not by his face, covered by a mask as it was, but by the nervous energy in the man's voice.

"Sir!"

Murphy got to his feet, reluctantly, he looked up and moaned.

There on the parapet was a large German, masked, his coal scuttle helmet making him look like some demon from his grandmother's stories.

Eberbach had reached the enemy trench, he stopped, puzzled, these were not Frenchmen, they looked British. But when did the British get here.

"Keep moving, Soldat." A voice said as he was shoved from behind, the man jumping forward as he did so.

Murphy nearly jumped out of his skin as a second German appeared and a shot rang out from close by.

"Damn it, Lieutenant, use your pistol!"

Sergeant Morrisey had shown up just in time to shoot the second German, who tumbled into the trench knocking Murphy off his feet.

Eberbach saw the man who had shoved him fall into the trench, the soldier who had shot him frantically working the bolt of his rifle. He saw three enemy soldiers, one under the man who had shoved him, another, an officer perhaps, seeming to stare at him, holding a pistol but not pointing it at anything.

Eberbach jumped into the trench, impaling the rifleman with his bayonet. Pulling the bayonet free, he jammed the butt of his rifle into the pistol man's face, knocking the man's gasmask off as he did so.

"F**k, f**k, f**k!"

Murphy could hear his platoon sergeant screaming over and over. He got free of the dead German in time to see his lieutenant get hit in the face with a rifle butt. The lieutenant began to gasp and cough as soon as the gas hit his lungs.

There was another German standing between Morrisey and Johnson, trying to turn around in the narrow trench. Before he could, and without thinking, Murphy shot the man in the chest.

Eberbach felt as if he had been punched, he was having trouble taking a breath. He collapsed to his knees, was his mask loose? As he wondered what had happened, he noticed the man coming to his feet just to his left, the man he had been attempting to engage.

Just before his eyes stopped seeing, he noticed the man's insignia. An American?

That man shot him again. After that, Eberbach saw nothing.

The attack had been repulsed, but with heavy casualties. Captain Allen shook his head, he was still half deaf and he was shaking with fatigue.

"Say again, Corporal."

"Johnson and Morrisey are both dead. 2nd Platoon lost four privates as well. Lieutenant Wilkerson is wounded but he says it's a scratch, other than that, 1st Platoon has three wounded, one really bad, and two dead."

"3rd Platoon?"

"No idea, Sir. Can't find them."

"Can't. Find. Them?"

"No Sir, their section of trench is gone. Collapsed, it's just piles of mud and wrecked duckboard. I've got guys over there digging."

"But how? There was no preliminary bombardment, just gas and smoke, then the Huns were on top of us."

"Yes Sir, but when the Huns pulled back, they bombarded us, do you remember?"

Allen stared into the distance, "But it was only a few shells, nothing heavy ..."

Corporal Ramsey nodded, "But those were dead on target, Cap'n."

Capitaine Petit found Allen shortly after sunset.

"Mon ami, your company is being pulled back as soon as your replacements show up."

Allen looked at his French liaison, "Replacements?"

"Yes, another French company will be moving up, your company is going to the rear. Your time with us is up."

"Up?"

"Are you alright, Theodore, did you hear me?"

Allen nodded, "Yes Henri, I heard you. We've only been here a couple of weeks, why are we being pulled back?"

"Your Général Pershing wants all American units together, to form a single army under his command. Our Maréchal Petain does not agree, but he has been overruled by Paris. So you will be pulled back to refit and then move to another location where your countrymen will be replacing a French division."

Allen nodded, "My men?"

"They are being fed, your officers have been notified of the move."

"I shall miss you, Henri."

Petit grinned, "No, you will not, I am going with you, unless you've learned to speak French recently?"

Allen managed a weak smile, "Well, that's good news."

Bauer had checked everywhere, but Eberbach was nowhere to be found. He returned to his dugout, it seemed that his squad was down to just three men, other than himself. He looked up as someone entered.

"Friedrich, they know where Kurt is."

Bauer sat up, "Where, how is he?"

"He was left behind when the attack failed. Schmitz was there, saw Kurt kill two of the Amis before one of them shot him, twice it seems. Schmitz killed that American but he couldn't check on Kurt as more of the Amis showed up, and they weren't happy."

"Scheiße! Now the Eberbach's have lost another son, is the Hauptmann going to write that letter?"

"Probably not, Hauptmann Schmetterling is missing in action. He never came back, no one saw him fall."

Bauer nodded, "I'll write it. Kurt was a good man."

As the man left, Bauer wondered just what the point of the attack had been. Men had been killed and wounded on both sides, but no ground had changed hands. What had been the point?

He wished that he was home.

It's Monday! Pop Quiz Time!

 Quiz time, Campers! and Answers below!

Source

Source

What do these two aircraft have in common? Put your answer in the comments.

Hint: There are a lot of "Close but no Cigars" answers but only one gets the much sought after "Worthless Trivia Challenge of the Week Winner" Title.  Answer has been added below.

Now…On with the show!

Update on  The Brown Recluse episode. Swelling is down substantially. Still wearing a bandage, not really needed for bleeding or oozing, rather to protect my hand when I bash it against something. Dr's follow up visit is Wednesday first thing. Black and red areas are substantially reduced also. So, maybe...

Speaking thereof, the bite didn't help in the "getting the House rid of excess crap in prep to put up a for sale" phase of the "Move to College Station" plan.  Most of that phase has been one of three options. 

1) Recycle Center.  Advantage- They unload your vehicle. Disadvantage- You load the vehicle and secure it. Littering is bad, doncha know. Additionally, they don't take just anything, so a careful inventory of the load will save you from having to resecure what's left then figure out how/where to get rid of it.

2) Goodwill. Their website has a list of stuff they will not take. We did that research first. The next good thing...They will unload your vehicle. that's a special advantage trying to move heavy furniture into the store. Yes, Goodwill, my back thanks you profusely.

3) The dump.  They weigh your vehicle when you arrive and again when you leave. No assistance available, but not a lot of items on their "No Dumping" list. 

All three have some level of requirement for the driver to unload or help therein. Not my favorite, especially under the circumstances!

Realtor is coming on Tuesday to inspect. I've heard he wears white gloves while doing this inspection.  We'll see how it turns out. 

And just because

OK The F-4E was tail number 68-461.  The Eagle tail number is 78-564.  In the 80's there was a big sayonara to the Air Force from the fighter pilot community.  The Chief of Staff at the time had flown fighters.  He toured all the bases and found that a large number of pilots were disenchanted.

  

Desk jobs and additional duties (e.g. Snack Bar Officer) took over much of the day.  So they were leaving in droves (and the airlines were hiring). So the Chief put together a team of guys and sat them down to find out what could be done.  Increasing flying hours was a big one of course, reducing additional duties another, and one surprise was brought up by a young LT who' was a big reader of historical flying stories.  

 

He suggested painting a Pilot (and WSO) name on the canopy rail.  Give them a sense of ownership and pride.  It worked.  Aircrew would come out and check on the airplane and crew chief and see if there was anything needed.  Even if it was a steppin fetchit kind of task.  The crew chiefs loved it, because they now had a back door to get things prioritized.  A whispered word to the Pilot who whispered it to his Flight Commander who brought it up in the next meeting with the Squadron Commander who brought it up to the Wing Commander.  A lot of Good Ideas suddenly became reality.

 

Just happened to be looking at Airplane Pics recently,  My Tail Number flying F-4's at Moody was 68-461.  Did a little googling and voila'.  There she was!   Her last assignment was to Terra Haute AB.  Her last flight went to the boneyard.   I would have liked it to be at a Front Gate somewhere.

 

The Eagle, 78-564 was also my airplane while stationed at Kadena.  As far as I can determine, She's still flying last assignment was at Elmendorf AFB AK.   

 

Peace out y'All!  It’s Monday after all!

To the Memory of the Fallen ...

8th August, 1918
Will Longstaff

The long dusty column marches off into the distance. The soldiers look neither left nor right, only straight ahead, to some unknown, unknowable future.

They are the dead, they fought and they died. Does anyone remember why? Do they remember?

Will they be remembered at some dim point in the future? Long after their sacrifice, when even the history books have faded into memory, will anyone remember them?

I will ...

It is Memorial Day weekend, a time to remember, to honor those who died for us. Let it not have been in vain. What matters politics once the Last Post has sounded? Once the trumpet falls silent, once the last note of Taps fades into the stillness, it matters more that these brave men and women are remembered.

Always ...

(Source)

Yes, this is a rerun, a post I have done for a few years and will probably use again. But it expresses how I feel about Memorial Day, I remember those who have gone before, I cherish their memories.

(Source)

They were people, just like you and me.

They had hopes, they had dreams, they had people who loved them.

One day they went out to do their duty ...

And never came home.

Remember them, say their names ...

I remember these fine men, always, but particularly at this time of year.

I knew some, I miss them all.

Captain Carroll F. LeFon, Jr.
United States Navy

Lance Corporal Kurt E. Dechen
United States Marine Corps

Major Taj Sareen
United States Marine Corps

Lieutenant Nathan T. Poloski
United States Navy

Private Robert Bain
Royal Scots Fusiliers
(Source)

Private First Class Albert J. Dentino,
United States Army
Photo courtesy of Kris in New England

SP5 Wayne S. Bates, "Doc"
United States Army

LCpl Gary Arthur Holsclaw
United States Marine Corps

SSG Brian T. Craig
United States Army

Captain James Albert Graham
United States Marine Corps
Medal of Honor

When You Go Home,

Tell Them Of Us And Say, 

For Their Tomorrow, 

We gave Our Today

- John Maxwell Edmonds 

Enjoy the day, but take a moment to remember ...