Wait, What?

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Had a lazy day Wednesday, thought seriously about another one on Thursday, but dontcha know, that front lawn needed cutting, needed it bad.

So I did that, after a brief pause to let said lawn dry off after a wee passing shower.

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Now when I finally got off my ass resolved to cut the grass I noticed a lot of sketchy looking clouds hanging about. Checked my weather app, which said rain likely at 1600 and 1700. Note, it was 1530 when I was set to go mow.

OAFS Photo

I decided, after a little voice in my head yelled "Hey Sarge, they're called weather guessers for a reason," that I would head out and if it started raining, well, then I'd get wet. Unlike past days where I would keep going unless it started up with lightning and thunder, I'd have to call it off if it started raining again. Hey, water wouldn't stall my mower, just clog it. These days though, the electric mower might actually sustain damage.

Well, I'd do what I could, if it rained, well, like Little Orphan Annie sang, "there's always tomorrow." I mean, what the hey, I'm retired, ain't I? I've got the time, don't I?

Anyhoo. Got it done. Then thought about blogging. Took some photos outside, did some reading inside, was looking for inspiration. Couldn't find it.

Life has been passing strange lately. Losing a buddy at 55 still freaks me out. It shouldn't, after all, I've lost friends and colleagues in the military at much younger ages, but still, when you can see the end of things not that far off, it's rattling to see someone else get there first.

I've seen death up close and personal, not a fan, I can tell you, but ...

Enough of that. Miss you, Doug.

Anyhoo. Had an exceptionally bizarre dream the other day, I mean really bizarre.

The Missus Herself sent me to the store, so I went. When I stepped outside, I was no longer in Little Rhody, but had somehow managed to get transported to Paris, yes, the one in France. And the City of Lights was an awful mess.

All the bridges over the Seine were down, but you could get to the other side via tunnels under the river. As I approached the entrance to one tunnel, I noted that I was wearing naught but my skivvies. Odd that. But no one seemed to care.

Entered the tunnel which, for some reason, was being painted. I complimented the two chaps actually doing the painted. Didn't strike me until much later that the two painters were dressed like Mario and Luigi. Yes, that Mario and Luigi. (Probably because I watched the original Mario Brothers movie, and the second one as well in the theater, a couple of weeks ago with my youngest grandsons. FWIW, I liked the first one better, why is it that sequels always seem to fall short?)

Just about the time I got to the other side of the Seine, finding myself near the Eifel Tower, I realized that none of the people in the dream were actually, ya know, speaking French. Then I woke up.

What the actual fire truck?

Don't remember what I ate that night.

Like I said, life has been a little strange lately.

It'll get better ...

Right?

I'm binge-listening to Puddle of Mudd as I try to remember where I was in the story I was telling. You know, that war thing. It ain't helping, but damn, that's an excellent band.

I shall return, most likely.

Hopefully far less pensive and a lot more motivated

I'm Back ...

Not Again?
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My latest sojourn down in the Old Line State has come to an end. With The Missus Herself out in California, with three feet of snow on the ground, I made the call to flee to the south, see The Nuke and her tribe. It was a good call. Though the 2nd of March presented that opening scene ...

It didn't last. What you see is about all we received, maybe another few fractions of an inch, but no more. As Shakespeare might have said ...

Much ado about nothing

But it was picturesque as one might imagine. Sitting on the sun porch, one of my favorite spots down there, just watching the world go by as the snow gently fell.

Unlike two weeks ago when Little Rhody (and much of the Northeast along the coast) got hammered by a blizzard which left three feet of the white stuff. But that, thank you very much, lies in our wake as winter is winding down. The robins have returned from the deep woods and can be seen cavorting on the grass. At least in Maryland they are.

The trip down was pleasant and uneventful, the trip back was much the same. Flying solo I could leave as early as you like and crank the tunes up on the CD player (yes, I have one in my car, most convenient it is.) Surprisingly, I didn't listen to music the entire way, I like a little peace and quiet from time to time as much as the next man.

No. Really.

Anyhoo ...

Got back to the picture below Sunday instant.

What Snow?
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Most of of it is gone. Driveway is clear, street is clear, mailbox is accessible, all is well.

Thanks to juvat for keeping the fires burning while I was away.

Good man there.

Too much death lately, in the world and personally. I know it's inevitable but it still sucks when it hits close. Friends losing significant others, friends losing beloved pets, it's all too effing much sometimes.

But life, and love, goes on.

I hope you have it, if not, I hope you find it.

Peace.

Miss those days. Miss that band.

Mr. Mill Speaks

 At the time you are reading this, I have high hopes of being on my way to College Station to get MBD's final approval of my idea for renovating her built in book shelf.  It's pretty darn big, taking up almost all of the main wall of their living room.  But...I think they've got the books to fill it.  More to follow on the subject.

As I've been reading Sarge's posts on Waterloo, I got to thinking about what a horribly crappy situation those poor schmedleys were in.  Schmedley being a highly defined word describing the folks that nobody really gave a crap whether they lived or died.  Nor did they get much out of it in return.  Pay sucked, food sucked, quarters sucked (if they were lucky they got a tent half).  In short, life sucked and was short.  Unfortunately, the method of dying was often protracted and excruciatingly painful.

Why?

And would it be any different today?  Now, that's the question.  There's a lot of nuancing going on about the situation (situation being synonymous for skullduggery/shenanigans/corruption, choose your favorite) today.  I'm even hearing folks whose opinions I respect (if not wholeheartedly agree with) saying it's not worth fighting for, we can't win.

Now, I've never been at or in a war.  Never fired a shot in anger. So take this or leave it.  The closest I've been to combat was sitting 5 minute alert at Osan AB ROK in the F-15.  Our mission was to protect the reconnaissance aircraft patrolling on the south side of the border watching for any sign the North Koreans were intending to vacation in the South without reservations.

Our requirement was to be airborne with 2 Eagles within 5 minutes of the horn going off.  We'd be vectored and briefed on our way.  

However...

Assuming we got scrambled as the "Bad Guys" headed south, but hadn't crossed the border yet. And assuming both of us were doing 600 Knots or 10 miles a minute.  That means we'd be at the merge in... let's see 56 NM/2 =28/10= 2.8 minutes.

2 minutes and 48 seconds..not a lot of time to sort things out and build your Situational Awareness.  Compound this with the fact that the rules don't apply to the "Bad Guys".  They most certainly do to us.  If we screw up, it's all over international news.  If they screw up.  It never happened,  And the USAF was harassing them. And THAT was all over international news.

Yeah, I did a lot of thinking about War while sitting alert.  My wingman and I did a lot of what- iffing as we certainly weren't going to get a lot of time to do it while airborne.

So, no, I've never been to War.  (Thank You, Lord!) But we did a lot of practicing for it.  We'd practice scramble frequently, generally when the assets we were protecting were not airborne or scheduled.  But every once in a while the Guys in the HQ on the advice of the Guy in the HQ wearing a Star would put a fake asset on our schedule, so we'd not be expecting a practice scramble. 

The horn would go off, generally when we were sitting down to a meal.  The first words were "Oh S--t" or worse. And off we'd go.  Jump out of the van, sprint to the jets, pull the Jet Fuel Starter (the starter motor) as we stepped into the jet and the crew chief strapped us in while we were turning equipment on. When done, he'd jump off the ladder and remove it just in time for us to start the left motor.  Soon as that was going, he'd pull chocks and we'd be taxiing.  

Since we were parked at the end of the runway, that didn't take long.  Just long enough for my prayer.

"Dear Lord, I don't feel the need to show off my aerial prowess nor take someones life today, but if you disagree, please don't let me screw (or another word) it up!" 

By that time, I was at flying speed, I'd rotate, the jet would come off the ground, the gear handle would be up. I'd level off until I got to 500K (which was before I got to the end of the runway) I'd do a 4g pull to the vertical. Contact our controller for a heading to the targets. Roll the aircraft to that heading and begin to pull the nose back down to level flight on that heading.  At this point, #2 was about 3-4 miles behind me.  Now, we're heading towards the border.  Any contacts are well within radar range and very soon (mere seconds) will be in shooting range.  For both us and them.  I haven't gotten any word yet on WTF is going on, nor had my radar pointed at the threat vector for long enough to have good Situation Awareness yet.

OT Suz, I wonder what my Cardiologist would say about a heart monitor reading I'd have right then.

Then they'd give us the daily code word for WTF was going on.  Fortunately in my case, it was always the "Good" one.  Meaning no one was going to die today.  Had it been the other one, and given the NK's weren't going to send just one bad guy, chances of us RTBing were not real good.  

So, I haven't been to war, nor have I been all that close, but I've got a pretty good feeling what it might be like.

Do I want a war?  F**K NO! But as I was reading and thinking about the way people are "talking" these days, I'm reminded of this (very long) quote.

“War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things: the decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth a war, is much worse. When a people are used as mere human instruments for firing cannon or thrusting bayonets, in the service and for the selfish purposes of a master, such war degrades a people. A war to protect other human beings against tyrannical injustice; a war to give victory to their own ideas of right and good, and which is their own war, carried on for an honest purpose by their free choice, — is often the means of their regeneration. A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for, nothing which he cares more about than he does about his personal safety, is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free, unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. As long as justice and injustice have not terminated their ever-renewing fight for ascendancy in the affairs of mankind, human beings must be willing, when need is, to do battle for the one against the other.”

John Stuart Mill

That quote is as true now as it was in 1867 when he spoke it.  I fear for this country and the road it's headed down. 

Peace out, y'all! (I pray) 

Just because I hate to end on a down note, here's what an F-15 Afterburner Takeoff and climb out looks like. Damn, I miss flying that jet!

 

So ...

The entrance to Bancroft Hall, 2018

Some of you may recognize that space above. Especially if you attended the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, MD. If not, well the caption and the first sentence in this paragraph rather give it away.

Anyhoo. For the first time in a few years I did not watch the Army-Navy game on Saturday last. The Missus Herself had arranged a dinner meeting with another couple the week before the game, I agreed to said meeting. I like the other folks and the restaurant to which we would repair, so saying "yes" was something of a no-brainer. Until I remembered the game, the only college game I watch year after year.

For those wondering (even those who are not) Navy lost, and fired their coach the next day (maybe same day, I'm not privy to the timeline). A move which I thought overdue. A cuppla years ago Navy was trailing Army late in the game and 4th down came up. (Forgive me, those of you not familiar with this American sport, I'll explain in a foot note.¹ Yeah, that one.) In a close game that actually means something to those playing and to the thousands of graduates who attended either West Point or Annapolis, punting on fourth down wasn't what I thought of as "smart."

It smacked to me of "striking the colors" - to use a nautical expression². (Yup, 'nother foot note.) At which point I felt the head football coach, though an exceedingly nice guy, should have had his employment terminated. Admittedly, punting was the "safe" play, but it was relying on a defense which had proven rather deficient at stopping Army from moving the ball in the second half. That is, "well, maybe the defense will hold this time."

Nope, colors struck, game over.

Anyhoo (again).

This is rather meant to be a "What do you think?" sort of post. The chance for you, the readers of this here blog, to sound off on a topic. The topic being ...

The Service Academies

That is, those four-year colleges which are free of charge for those attending (other than committing a certain number of years of one's life³) and which upon graduation they are granted a commission in the service of the United States. (I was going to say "Armed Forces," but there is the Merchant Marine Academy, though they provide a vital service, they are not part of the Armed Forces).

I saw a comment over on the Book of Faces from a guy I respect a great deal, questioning the need for those schools to seek high level athletes for their sports programs at the possible expense of someone who is going to school there for to be an officer in the U.S. military. Certain allowances are made for some of those so-called "student athletes." Well, they are technically students but in reality their job is playing sports. Those same allowances are NOT made for others at the academies. What do you all think of that?

As a kicker, just to be difficult, I'll throw out my own thought on the service academies: if you wish to go there, be ready to sign a contract for twenty years. Otherwise go ROTC or OTS. Just my two cents.

What say you?

Now I'll kick back and watch, be nice, avoid profanity, and remember to turn the lights off when you're done.

¹ In American football, each time one has the ball, one is allotted four tries (downs) to make ten yards, or more. Getting that ten yards gives you four more downs to get another ten. Until you score, or can't make the ten yards. Typically, depending on field position, if one cannot make the ten yards on that fourth down, one kicks the ball (punts) to the other team. Then they get four downs, etc.

² In days of yore, during the age of sail, ships advertised their national affiliation with a flag, usually near the stern. In battle it was customary for the loser, not being able to get away for some reason or another, to haul down said colors to indicate one's further unwillingness to fight. Oft times the colors might get shot away, but a ship determined to fight would somehow get a set of colors back up again. To "strike the colors" meant "I surrender."

³ Depending on whether or not we get in a war, it might be committing the rest of one's life due to being killed in action.