It's The Little Things

A Proud Day.

Wings.

Good Times.

Family.

One cat is great.

Two are awesome!

Kodi and Bear are ready for walkies. Or dinner. Which ever comes first!

One of my favorite places. One of my heroes.

Flowers are good.

So more flowers must be even better.

Daughters are awesome.

Old ruins are interesting.

Je pense que je vois le Sarge! (I think I see the Sarge!)

Newport.

Vermont.

Dirt roads are good.

Foliage is awesome.

Dusk.

Generations.

Laughing together is awesome.

Connecticut River in the gloaming.

Goofy WSOs are awesome.

The town of my birth.

My brother built that.

Never forgotten.

Forever loved.

Gardens are nice.

Four birds on a wire.

Faith is awesome. (Literally!)

The next generation.

Aircraft carriers are awesome. (As is Sandy Eggo!)

Snow is awesome. (In finite quantities!)

Recognize me?

A day in the park is awesome.

Dogs are awesome.

Sunsets are magnificent.

The sky is awesome.

A great time of year...

I know I'm blessed. And yes, I'm thankful.

A blessed Sunday to you all.

Unhappy Camper

This photo was taken last year, in Alexandria. I was actually having a good time.
I'm just not very good with "selfies."

Crap ton of rain Friday night. Lost Internet connection for a while. I guess we're not really in the 21st century just yet in Little Rhody.

The Missus Herself wanted to know why I was so angry. I guess paying money for a service that I actually do rely on isn't enough. I need to be patient with them as well.

I get that.

But I'm not happy about it.

Will someone knock a couple of bucks of the bill as a gesture of good faith?

I doubt it.

Maybe it's one of those denial of service attacks.

Why haven't we declared war on someone? Damn it, anyone.

I'm getting to be a real curmudgeon.

There are days technology sucks.

Oh well, when I was a kid we had no Internet.

And we walked to school in the snow.

Uphill.

Both ways.

Maybe I'll post something later today. Right now I'm a bit P.O.ed and a lot tired.

Hey, Friday nights are supposed to be better than this.

Maybe I expect too much.

Sigh...

A Pretty Good List

(Source)

It's one of those days where you get a video, and not much else. It's been a very long week. Like I have mentioned before, blogging is hard. (It's harder when you don't get enough sleep!) So let's get on with it.

The other day I posted a list of movies I really enjoy. As I was casting about for ideas for today's post, I ran across a video called "The Top Ten World War I  Movies." So I watched it. Some of the films I've seen, some I haven't. Some I need to track down and watch. It's a pretty good list, even if it doesn't have a few of my own favorite WWI films. (Sgt York and The Blue Max to name just two.)

These WatchMojo.com videos can be hit or miss. This one is a hit.

Perhaps I'll be better motivated tonight. After all, it is Friday and I can sleep in tomorrow.

Little victories. It's all I ask.



Nope, still not gonna bitch about politics. There are no good choices...

Scorched Earth

After enjoying the summer long view of lovely roses and other bits of flowering florae, and the local fauna which enjoy munching on said florae, there comes that time of year when The Missus Herself commences a little something I like to call "Operation Scorched Earth."

In which she goes through the town, leaving a swath of destruction in her wake. A barren landscape in which a scorpion would have trouble finding sustenance and...

No, not really.

When my better half began "Operation Fill the Yard with Flowering Things" (which sounds way more militaristic in German, to wit Operation Füllen Sie den Hof mit blühenden Dingen) I didn't give much thought to what would happen to all of those plants when winter fell upon the land.

Our first autumn in Little Rhody wasn't too bad, the gardens were still somewhat small and modest. It wasn't until the second autumn that we really had a fun time clipping, trimming, and bagging all of the plant life which had graced the yard in the summer.

Well, this year I'm "excused duty." (Yup, I'm still milking that post-surgical thing, truth be told, Doc said to take it easy until the end of November when I see him again. And no one has ever had to tell me to take it easy twice. Frankly, the surgical site still hurts a bit. At my age one does not heal very quickly.)

Anyhoo...

I came home last night to see a rather large collection of these out by the street...

(Source)

There have been years when The Missus Herself has filled upwards of thirty of those bags with yard detritus. Believe you me, it's no fun hauling all those bags down to the curb as they get filled. While sometimes they're not that heavy, there are years when I think my lovely wife has put a yard of dirt in each bag. While she doesn't really do that, there can be quite a bit of soil left clinging to the roots of all the plants she's yanked out of the ground.

Being hors de combat this year does make me feel a little guilty.

A little.

Perhaps I should emulate the granddaughters...

Ya know, hit the highway! (Little Bit seems really into driving, whereas L'il Sweetie looks rather like a bored commuter on the way to work. The WSO tells me though that the youngest member of our tribe was really into having her sister drive her around. And around, and around, and around...)

While we still have some flowers left, the time when the ground is barren again isn't too far off. Not to worry though, all that white stuff will cover it up. (Wait! What am I saying?)

Memory Dump

Prelude...

Blogging is hard.

First you have to come up with something to write about that a certain section of one's readership will enjoy. Hopefully that certain section is "all three of them." Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

Then, hopefully after coming up with a topic, you need to come up with a snazzy post title, something that will grab people's attention. There are a number of dirty tricks one can employ to get people to visit, but if it's a particularly tawdry ruse, they won't come back. The old "fool me once" thing.

Anyhoo, all that is simply the prelude for today's post, which I had originally thought to call "Flotsam and Jetsam." But that didn't fit. "Odds 'n' Sods" would have worked, but I've used that one before. Fairly recently as well.

Damn it! Digressed again. Anyhoo (x2)...

Act One...

I have had lots on my mind recently. The upcoming elections. My recent trip to my native lands. Dinner on Monday night...

Come again?

Yes, dinner on Monday night. The Missus Herself and Your Humble Scribe did gather with three old friends for to dine and to engage in witty conversation. There was our former pastor's wife, whom we like to call Miss Betty, as that's her name and adding "Miss" to the front just seems fitting. (And yes, whenever we give her a lift someplace I always think of Driving Miss Daisy. For Miss Betty never saw the need to learn how to operate a motor vehicle.) Sad to say that our former pastor himself could not be there as he passed back in 2008. He is sorely missed by all who knew him. A great friend he was.

The other two friends were a couple. Jeff and Maggie are originally from Jolly Olde England and used to live here in Little Rhody where Jeff was a pastor.

Yes, I seem to know a number of men of the cloth (one or two women as well) and no, it's not because I have lived the life of a rapscallion and feel the need to make amends at this late stage of my existence.

Though I daresay, it couldn't hurt...

Anyhoo...

At dinner we were all rather depressed about the state of the Union and the rather lackluster slate of candidates seeking to lead us into the future. So we stayed completely away from politics and turned to reminiscing about older, better times.

Speaking of avoiding politics...

Act Two...

Sometime back, Madame Mère remarked that my brother, Ye Olde Vermonter, had remarked that my blog was getting far too political for his tastes and that henceforth and forthwith, he would no longer waste his precious time coming here to read the ramblings of his older brother.

No, I didn't beat him about the head and shoulders for that remark. I do believe that that might have been something that might have earned him a thrashing when we were nobbut callow youths. Had I been prone to such behavior, back in the day as it were.

Truth be told, I too was getting sick of politics. I mean a fellow can rant and rave all day (and most of the night) over "just how bad things are" and all it will do is cause the already converted to nod their heads and say "Amen." Would my rantings and ravings convert the heathen to my way of thinking?

Nope. Not gonna happen.

So I, being convinced that my brother was (for once in his life) more correct about something than I was, backed off on the political posts. Found it refreshing I did. Did it cost me readers? No, at least not that I can tell.

When I mentioned this to Ye Olde Vermonter at dinner last Friday instant, he immediately did what he did back in the old days, that is...

"Mom!"

My Mother immediately sensed that somehow the middle of her three offspring had taken offense at something she had done. Or that perhaps I had slugged my brother (as he claims I was wont to do in days of yore) and he was appealing to her for justice.

He was somewhat annoyed that Madame Mère had told me of his feelings vis-à-vis politics on this here blog. Mom defended herself well and I remarked that I was glad to know what my readers did and did not care for as regards the topics I write about. Ye Olde Vermonter was somewhat mollified by this but I daresay that will perhaps be the last time he shares a confidence with our mater regarding this here blog.

From rumblings about the ancestral home I have discerned that both of my brothers and I are not, you might say, aligned when it comes to des affaires politiques. While I tend towards conservatism, there are times when my views seem, shall we say, a trifle too far to the right for some folk's tastes.

My brothers, I do believe, are slightly left of center. Not that there's anything wrong with that. (No really, I mean it. They are more liberal than I but they're not, as far as I can tell, raving Bolsheviks. I don't care for Bolsheviks. Sorry Bernie, but there it is.)

And there are days when even I can't tell if I'm being serious or not.

Entr'acte...

A good rule of thumb is to assume that I am trying to be witty most of the time. Heavy emphasis on the "trying" part of that last sentence. While I can be serious, it goes against my nature.

Now where was I? Oh yeah...

Act Three...

I have been ruminating as of late concerning writing a post about the events and history surrounding the siege of Jadotville (in the Congo) in 1961. An event which Netflix has seen fit to produce a film about. Aptly named, The Siege of Jadotville. I enjoyed the film, though others of my acquaintance did not. Having read up on that battle (after having seen the movie and questioning its veracity, as I often do, for Hollywood and others of that ilk aren't really known for accuracy in their depictions of historical events), I wanted to address the film's accuracy and perhaps place it in its proper context. Historically speaking that is.

Well, well. Seems that this particular battle was just one part of a very complicated and controversial sequence of events playing out on the African continent in the early 1960s. After all, it was post-WWII, the colonial powers were exhausted from WWII, the peoples living under European masters were somewhat tired of that and were seeking to get out from under their colonial bosses.

Of course, the colonial masters weren't all that keen on letting go of things, they, being old school European types, rather liked the status quo ante bellum. As the Cold War was then "all the rage," the colonial types thought they might squeak one by the old United Nations and perhaps get back what they felt was "rightfully ours." As the United States and the Soviet Union were not exactly "playing nice" with each other and were rather distracted by all that was happening in Europe, the UN had the chance to show what it was capable of. (Editor's Note: The siege of Jadotville was in September of 1961, the Berlin Wall went up in August of that same year. To say the USA was distracted is a bit of an understatement.)

So the post on the siege of Jadotville is going to be delayed for a while. I want to do it justice. The Irish Army, in its first fight away from the Auld Sod behaved admirably at Jadotville. Truth be told, one Irish infantry company did indeed fight off over three thousand well armed (though ill-trained) native levies led by white, European (think French and Belgian) mercenaries. The Irish did not suffer any killed in action. The Africans cannot say the same, they did, verily, get their butts kicked.

Initial reaction, based on preliminary research, the film The Siege of Jadotville is an accurate depiction of what happened in one small part of the Congo back in the fall of 1961. What it could have used was better placement in its historical context. Of course, then the movie might have been unwatchable. Movie audiences shy away from long, complicated stories where they really need to pay attention.Well, modern audiences that is.

Postlude...

Blogging is hard.

Today's example is what happens when I try to cover a bunch of things in one post.

Yup, memory dump it is.

I even bore myself at times...

It's Always Sumthin'

While the weekend was fantastic (the opening photo will attest to that as regards the weather), it didn't start off all that auspiciously. It was a three day weekend (the past week having been the short week of our 9/80 rotation), so it had that going for it. However comma...

After departing the office Thursday in the afternoon, I climbed into Big Girl (the name which I have given my automotive conveyance) and contemplated the coming weekend.

"Let's see, I'll get up around 0800, with all that getting ready entails, plus the need to fill the fuel tank...

Damn. Why is it so drafty in here?"

Turning to my right, I noticed that the passenger-side window was rolled most of the way down. My initial thought was...

"Did I do that?"

Perhaps that morning I had been fiddling with the switches after parking the vehicle, but prior to dismounting. So I hit the switch to put the window up.

Nothing.

Nada.

Bupkis.

So I dismount and walk over to that window. There is perhaps three inches of window exposed so I grab onto it. Slides up, slides down, effortlessly. Hhmm, seems like an automatic window should provide a tad more resistance.

Yup, the passenger-side power window is malfunctioning. As in, doesn't even feel like it's hooked up.

Well, thinks I, looks like we'll be taking The Missus Herself's car on the morrow. Not a big problem, just need to tape this thing up when I get home so it won't get wet if it rains. I did find that by wedging my window scraper betwixt door and window glass, and by the judicious application of duct tape, there was no need to tape plastic over the malfunctioning passenger-side window.

After I got back to Chez Sarge, that's what I did. The window seemed nicely fixed in place, there were no gaps where water might leak through, so we were good to go vis-à-vis automotive transport on Friday. Now I just had to await the arrival of The Missus Herself who was out purchasing an automatic feeder for the feline staff as their normal support staff were to be in New Hampshire and their auxiliary support staff (the next door neighbors) were going to be in California.

So rather than leave out a really big dish to hold a couple days worth of food, we opted for one of those automatic rigs. I wanted the nice, programmable expensive one. My better half overruled that and went with one of the gravity feed models.

Pretty simple and cheap. But to my way of thinking, no more effective than a big dish full of a couple days worth of food.

Thursday night we tested it. A certain amount of food was dispensed, more than the cats are used to, but they didn't complain. But when it was gone, that seemed to be the end of it. The feed jar had plenty of food in it, but it wasn't going anywhere. I watched Anya, with her head tilted all the way to the right, trying to wedge her face up into the feed spout. Nothing. No movement.

Hhmm. That's not good.

Friday morning, we're up and raring to go. The feline staff is behaving as if they haven't been fed yet.

Hhmm, why weren't you agitating for food at 0600, like every other day? Methinks, dear feline friends, that though doth protest too much. While the food level looked a little lower, it was hard to tell. So I tapped the top of the feed jar. Nothing. Not a single morsel of delicious cat fare slid down that feed chute.

Rocking back on my heels, I accidentally nudged the feed jar, from the side. Lo and behold food was dispensed. Seems logical. A cat wouldn't tap the top, no, she (or he) would no doubt nudge it. So I was reasonably certain that the feline staff would be fine, food-wise. After all, there was enough food in that dispenser for a week!

When we returned home Sunday afternoon, I dashed into the house half-expecting that the cats would have gotten frustrated with their new automatic feeder and knocked it about to get to the food inside. Nope. No mess. Seems they had figured it out.They had figured it out all too well. That week's worth of food? Seems they had eaten nearly all of it, in just two days.

Yup, it's always sumthin'.



Hat tip to Buck for the title. Miss him we do.

That Others may Live

Last week's episode regaled the reader with a story from the "So....There I was*" chronicles and detailed my exploits when I was shot down by a dastardly communist, then E and E'd my way to a hidey hole where I was eventually extracted, under hostile fire of course, by rotary winged Angels of Goodness and Light and returned to friendly forces.  

OK, no, I am not a democrat running for office.  That was the scenario for a training exercise I participated in which involved practicing with Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR) forces.  During said exercise, I learned a few things of importance.  The most important of those was to try and avoid situations where I would need their help.

Fortunately, I was able to complete my AF career and accomplish that goal.

But...As I was checking facts in writing that post, I came up with an interesting statistic.  According to this post on the National Museum of the United States Air Force (NMUSAF) website,  CSAR forces during the Vietnam War were awarded 190 Silver Stars, 24 Air Force Crosses and 1 Medal of Honor.  Those, in increasing order of precedence are the top 3 medals awarded for Valor in the USAF.  In other words, you won't be awarded one for a super spiffy powerpoint briefing at the Pentagon.  

So...in CSAR squadron buildings around the world, there were some seriously clanking brass ones as folks walk around.

But, juvat, to whom was the Medal of Honor awarded?

That would be this gentleman.

Source

I know, I always expect Medal of Honor Recipients to resemble the guy below also.

Medal of Honor Recipients are always Knights charging into battle, right?
Source

But, as I've worked my way through the list of USAF Medal of Honor recipients, I've come to appreciate that some of the most deserving Warriors look like ordinary humans (who performed above and beyond the call of duty when circumstances presented themselves).

So, here's an official photograph of LtCol (then Capt) Gerald O. Young.

Add caption

LtCol Young was born in 1930 and enlisted in 1947 serving until 1952 as, what would now be called "Petty Officer", but then as an Aviation Electricians Mate.  Yes...in the Navy!  Got out in 1952, but reenlisted in 1955 again, in the Navy!  He served until 1956 when he finally saw the light and joined the Air Force as part of the Aviation Cadet program. Commissioned and received his wings in 1958, then had a series of assignments flying helicopters, to include helicopter support for the A-Bomb test program in the Pacific.  Finally in 1967, LtCol Young was assigned to the 37th Aerospace Rescue & Recovery Squadron at Da Nang AB, Republic of Vietnam.  

I can hear Sarge now... "Ok juvat, got it.  Navy, helicopters, A-Bombs.  Get on with it!"  

Relax, Big Guy, have another ice cold Apple Cider Oktoberfest from Vermont!  I'm gettin' there!

On the afternoon of 8 November, 1967, a small US-ARVN force was conducting reconnaissance southeast of Khe Sanh and was ambushed by an battalion of North Vietnamese.  During the ensuing battle, two helicopters were shot down while attempting to rescue the team.  

As darkness fell, the North Vietnamese fell back hoping to lure another rescue attempt into the area.

Around midnight, that was exactly what happened.  A flight of 2 HH-3Es, 3 US Army helicopter gunships and a C-130 Flareship arrived.  Low ceilings and poor visibility forced the aircraft to operate within the range of the guns on the ground.  (In case you haven't figure it out, that's bad!)

The gunships attacked and after a while, the bad guys ceased firing, so the lead Jolly Green began recovery operations.  

According to this site, above is the actual location

Terrain in the area as well as the position of the team being rescued forced the Jolly to hover over a steep side of a hill. This put the aircraft at basically the same height as the attacking forces.  As the Jolly, hovered three survivors climbed aboard.

As might be suspected, as they began  rescuing survivors, the bad guys pulled the pin on the trap and began shooting again.  The lead Jolly is badly damaged, but flyable.  It departs the area, leaving the remaining survivors, two of whom are wounded Americans.  It is too badly damaged to return to Da Nang, landing instead at the airfield at Khe Sanh.  It is out of the fight.

As it is heading to Khe Sanh, the pilot, who is also the flight lead for the mission, advises the rest of the flight to cease the rescue attempt due to the ground fire as well as the low fuel status of the gunships.

Given that, it would have been perfectly understandable, reasonable, logical (you pick the word) to escort the other helicopter to safety.

Capt Young discusses the options with his crew and they decide to make one more attempt to recover the survivors.

Capt Young brings the aircraft around and touches one wheel down on the terrain, while flying the aircraft to hold it level against the steep terrain.  When the survivors and wounded are brought on board, Capt Young begins to takeoff and as he does so, the bad guys attack shooting small arms and rifle launched grenades.  

At that range, they can't miss and don't.

The right engine explodes flipping the HH-3 on it's back and crashing it down the slope on fire.

Capt Young is upside down, hanging by the straps and on fire.  He manages to free himself and escape out the side window, tumbling to the bottom of a ravine at the bottom of the slope.  He manages to put the fire out but sustains second and third degree burns over a large portion of his body.

Also at the bottom of the ravine was another crew member who had been thrown clear and was unconscious.  Capt Young crawls over to him, puts out the flames on his clothing and drags him to a hiding place nearby.

Source

About this time, a pair of A-1s arrives on scene and circles the area, resulting in the bad guys going back into hiding.  However, none of the survivors have a radio.  

The A-1s hold over head, planning on a first light rescue attempt.  Replaced by a new pair of A-1s, the rescue continues as dawn breaks.  The A-1s have been making low passes all night long, but the bad guys have maintained discipline and not fired a shot.  

Two hours after dawn without seeing any enemy activities, the A-1s call for the helicopters.  While waiting for their arrival, they locate Capt Young and the survivor he rescued.  Capt Young, however, notices that the North Vietnamese are moving in his direction.  

He realizes, since he can't communicate with the A-1s, the only thing he can do is draw the North Vietnamese away from the person he'd rescued.  Although badly burned, and without a doubt, in considerable pain, he moves into the jungle away from the hiding place.

For the next 17 hours, he leads the North Vietnamese on a chase, allowing the helicopters to recover the survivor and the bodies of the remaining crewmen and team members. Finally after traveling about 6 miles, Capt Young manages to lose his pursuers, signal a helicopter and is rescued. 

Unfortunately, at best, only one other member of the helicopter and team survived.  This source leads one to believe the crew member Capt Young rescued and hid survived.  However, this source says that Capt Young was the only survivor.  In either case, Capt Young, and his crew, certainly went "above and beyond the call of duty" on this mission.

After recovering from his injuries, LtCol Young finishes out his career, retiring in 1980.  LtCol Young  passed away in 1990 and is buried at Arlington.

RIP Warrior!

LtCol Young's Citation:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Capt. Young distinguished himself while serving as a helicopter rescue crew commander. Capt. Young was flying escort for another helicopter attempting the night rescue of an Army ground reconnaissance team in imminent danger of death or capture. Previous attempts had resulted in the loss of 2 helicopters to hostile ground fire. The endangered team was positioned on the side of a steep slope which required unusual airmanship on the part of Capt. Young to effect pickup. Heavy automatic weapons fire from the surrounding enemy severely damaged 1 rescue helicopter, but it was able to extract 3 of the team. The commander of this aircraft recommended to Capt. Young that further rescue attempts be abandoned because it was not possible to suppress the concentrated fire from enemy automatic weapons. With full knowledge of the danger involved, and the fact that supporting helicopter gunships were low on fuel and ordnance, Capt. Young hovered under intense fire until the remaining survivors were aboard. As he maneuvered the aircraft for takeoff, the enemy appeared at point-blank range and raked the aircraft with automatic weapons fire. The aircraft crashed, inverted, and burst into flames. Capt. Young escaped through a window of the burning aircraft. Disregarding serious burns, Capt. Young aided one of the wounded men and attempted to lead the hostile forces away from his position. Later, despite intense pain from his burns, he declined to accept rescue because he had observed hostile forces setting up automatic weapons positions to entrap any rescue aircraft. For more than 17 hours he evaded the enemy until rescue aircraft could be brought into the area. Through his extraordinary heroism, aggressiveness, and concern for his fellow man, Capt. Young reflected the highest credit upon himself, the U.S. Air Force, and the Armed Forces of his country.

No Ribbons for Exceptional Powerpoint on this Warrior's chest.