Why History?

Screen capture from the film The Red Baron

I write a lot about history, mostly because it fascinates me and it helps me to understand how we humans operate in groups. If you think that a group of people act the same as an individual, you are making a big mistake. Sometimes a fatal mistake. A study of history helps one see that.

There is a lot of crap going on in the country right now, most of it is meant to distract the less discerning members of the voting public from the real issues of the day. If you know your history, you can separate the wheat from the chaff. But not by watching most of the major "news" networks. They have convinced themselves that they are important, even though they are, for the most part, not important at all, they are no more than propaganda outlets. If we really thought about things, we'd know that most of what passes in this country for news, is not.

There are people in the world right now who are making history, most of the others are just making noise. I despise the noise makers.

I ran across the following clip on YouTube, it's from the movie The Red Baron which came out in 2008. I watched it a while back, it was entertaining. After watching this aerial sequence (most of which is CGI, but still good) I decided that I need to watch the movie again. (The film is available on Amazon Prime.)

I'll leave it to Juvat and the other pilots out there to judge the accuracy of the flying, but the clip "feels right," in other words, it gives an insight into World War I in the air. The end of the clip, mercifully cut short, is sad beyond belief, and not just for the obvious reasons.

Enjoy...

Another good clip, this one from the BBC. They quote Boelcke, which means that they did their homework.

The pilots of the Great War were brave beyond belief!

Hitler Moves East

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While I am not a big fan of reruns, typically I do those when the Muse has gone walkabout, I pondered for quite some time yesterday as to what to post to commemorate the invasion of the Soviet Union by Nazi Germany seventy-seven years ago today. So I went through the archives to see what I had posted in past years.

I was somewhat dumbfounded to see that in six years of blogging, I had posted but once upon this momentous event. Once. Five years ago.

Not exactly a record, is it?

That post remains one of my favorites. No way I could top that without a lot more writing and thinking. Some day I will extend the story of that German tank crew I introduced last fall to the Eastern Front. If you were a German of a certain age between 1941 and 1945, odds are you served on the Eastern Front. Odds were pretty good that you died there as well. Roughly 4,500,000 Germans died fighting in Russia, some 500,000 dying as Prisoners of War.

Yes, the Soviets suffered far worse, some 8 to 10 million dead.

It was a titanic struggle, almost inconceivable from a western standpoint.

Before hitting you with a rerun, I found a short film of the Eastern Front, gives you a picture, a very small picture of those days. One thing missing from the film? The appalling brutality of the Germans shown to the civilians they encountered, many of whom (particularly in the Ukraine) welcomed the Germans as liberators from Stalin.

Also note (and the film shows it) that many German units went into Russia much as Napoleon's army had in 1812, on foot, with much of their transport being horse drawn.

I don't know how many of you were reading back in 2013, but a lot of the new crowd hasn't seen this. As I rather liked the post, I decided to share it again. (This time there are sources for most of the photos, wasn't true back in 2013, I wasn't as careful back then. One learns.

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Seventy-two years ago, at 0315 on the 22nd of June, 1941, a Sunday, German aircraft began bombing Soviet positions behind the frontier inside Russian-occupied Poland.

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In conjunction with those behind the lines air strikes, German artillery began pounding Soviet positions along that same frontier.

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Shortly thereafter, German tanks and infantry moved forward. In many places overrunning stunned and disoriented Soviet troops. The largest military operation in human history had just begun, Fall Barbarossa, Case Barbarossa, the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union.

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This was more than a war over territory, this was a war of competing ideologies. A war to determine, in the sick, twisted minds of Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin, who would have the privilege of enslaving all of Europe. A titanic struggle, the end result of which might well plunge mankind into a new Dark Age.

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Again, the roads were choked with refugees. The first batches of prisoners were taken.

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Soviet soldiers began surrendering by the thousands.

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The Luftwaffe ranged over the front and deep behind Russian lines. For the most part, the Red Air Force had been destroyed on the ground.

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Each day saw the German armored formations penetrating deeper and deeper into Soviet territory.

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But all was not well. While the Panzers drove deep, they were also bypassing resistance, leaving tens of thousands of Russian troops in their rear. The hard marching infantry, try as they might, could not keep up.

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And the Panzers were starting to encounter a new foe, one which shocked and concerned the Panzer generals. The Soviet T-34.

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Russian resistance to the German onslaught began to stiffen.

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Appeals were made to the Russian people to fight back, for Holy Mother Russia. To defend their families, their native land.

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More of the powerful T-34s were reaching the front.

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The Red Army was finding its fighting spirit.

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The summer was gone, autumn was arriving, the weather was turning...

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Winter was coming...

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What began on the 22nd of June, 1941, would not end until nearly four years later in May of 1945 in the ruins of Berlin. Literally millions had died. Millions more had suffered from the deprivations of war.

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The Red Army would advance into Germany and an Iron Curtain would fall over Eastern Europe which wouldn't be lifted until the collapse of the Soviet Union itself in 1991.

It had been a massive campaign of global implications. The echoes of that campaign still resonate these many years later.

Russian Celebration of the Victory of Stalingrad
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Original post is here.

Fighting Fair

If you find yourself in a fair fight, your tactics suck.
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Never bring a knife to a gunfight, for that matter, don't get into a fight unless you're fully prepared to cheat. Right Butch?

The British complained that using submarines wasn't very "sporting." Countries that can't afford battleships will buy something that is cheap and can kill battleships easier than the battleships can kill them.

The Germans in WWII noted that the Americans were overly reliant on artillery. Well, why send in a guy who might get killed when you can shoot from far away and kill their guys?

If artillery isn't available, call in an airstrike. If an airstrike isn't available, wait for artillery.

In aerial combat, kill the other guy before he knows you're there. If he doesn't see you, he can't kill you. I always felt that the old phrase "beware the Hun in the sun," while good advice, also implied that the Germans were sneaky and that they were somehow cheating.

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In combat, if you're not cheating, you're not trying.

Apparently John Steinbeck had a number of things to say about fighting, while I can't guarantee the accuracy, nor the provenance, of the following quotes, good advice is good advice, no matter who gives it to you...

The purpose of fighting is to win. There is no possible victory in defense. The sword is more important than the shield, and skill is more important than either. The final weapon is the brain. All else is supplemental.

1. Don't pick a fight with an old man. If he is too old to fight, he'll just kill you.
2. If you find yourself in a fair fight, your tactics suck.
3. I carry a gun because a cop is too heavy.
4. When seconds count, the cops are just minutes away.
5. A reporter did a human-interest piece on the Texas Rangers. The reporter recognized the Colt Model 1911 the Ranger was carrying and asked him "Why do you carry a 45?" The Ranger responded, "Because they don't make a .46."
6. An armed man will kill an unarmed man with monotonous regularity.
7. The old sheriff was attending an awards dinner when a lady commented on his wearing his sidearm "Sheriff, I see you have your pistol. Are you expecting trouble?" "No Ma'am. If I were expecting trouble, I would have brought my rifle."
8. Beware the man who only has one gun. HE PROBABLY KNOWS HOW TO USE IT!!!

"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him." -G. K. Chesterton

Anyhoo, that's how I see things.

Battle Month continues shortly. Russia has been invaded multiple times, at least two of those invasions (and the most famous) started in June. The French and the Germans both took on the Russian bear. Neither won. I'll be looking at both of those invasions.

Those invasions might explain why Russians don't particularly trust outsiders. Can you blame them?

Stay tuned.

A Mini-Rant

The Zaporozhye Cossacks Replying to the Sultan - Il'ya Yefimovich Repin
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There are many views of the Cossacks, some view them as free men, roaming the steppes, answerable to no one but their chosen leaders. Others view them as tools of the oppressor (the Czars used them for suppressing revolts from time to time). The French who invaded Russia some 206 years ago saw the Cossacks as cowardly soldiers, unwilling to stand against them in a "fair" fight. Which just tells me that Cossacks were not idiots. Who wants a fair fight? Ever?

There is much going on in the world which makes me livid. I cannot watch the mainstream media as they lie to us all of the time. I find no truth in their words. That applies to both "sides" of things.

There is no civility left, each side wishes to shout down the other, each side holds to the misbegotten concept that only they know the real "truth." Both sides are pushing an agenda, both sides spew propaganda. Both sides appeal mostly to people unwilling to think for themselves. (Perhaps they are incapable of doing so. Who knows?)

I say screw them all, all I wish is to walk free, to worship (or not) as I see fit, to speak the things I wish to speak (and if you don't want to listen, that's cool, but I probably will stop talking to you), and listen to the voices of my children and grandchildren. Oh yeah, and music, the world needs more music. Something Skip commented about yesterday, we need more music  in the Blogoverse. I do write musical posts from time to time, yesterday was one such post, and I shall do so again. A number of the folks I follow do music from time to time.

Music is good.

What's up with the painting? It concerns a possibly apocryphal incident in history where an Ottoman sultan sent a letter to the Zaporozhye Cossacks demanding that they submit to the sultan and that they should stop attacking the sultan's interests. (You can chase the source of the painting for more details.)

The Cossacks essentially told the sultan to go fire truck himself. Or words to that effect. Their reply was insulting, coarse, and (to this old sergeant) very humorous. I gather that the sultan was not amused.

There are days that I would respond to the world, and the many bellowing idiots therein, much as the Cossacks replied to the sultan.

Dear World, Leave me and mine alone. I'm tired of your bull crap. Love, Me

Yeah, I cleaned up my reply, just a bit...

And so's not to be a total Debby Downer...

Music, which our John noted in the comments yesterday.

Different.

And. I. Love. It.

Ah what the heck, John posted two links, here's the other, two of my favorite genres. Call it East meets West, or Scotland in the Punjab...

Anyhoo, it's good.

And the lassies ain't too hard on the eyes neither.

Warrior Music

Kenneth Mackay, 79th Highlanders at Waterloo

No, I didn't forget that Monday was the 203rd anniversary of Waterloo. Not at all. But Mondays belong to Juvat, and what with the stress of his MBD's pending nuptials, I didn't want to upset the apple cart. Then there's the imminent (shudder) dance lessons and...

Hey Juvat, perhaps you should learn this dance -

I'm sure Mrs. Juvat would approve. (Or not.)

Anyhoo, to commemorate the battle, I offer some music. Warrior music!

During the assault on the Anglo-Allied center by the French Corps, the 8th Brigade of Sir Thomas Picton's 5th Division advanced as the British heavy cavalry drove the French back. They were forced to halt and form square to repel a counter-attack by the French cuirassiers (heavy armored cavalry).

The 79th (Cameron) Highlanders were starting to waiver, assailed by cavalry, hit with cannon fire, so Piper Kenneth Mackay stepped out of the 79th's square and began to play this tune (WARNING - Bagpipe Music! *)

Nothing like a rousing tune on the pipes to get the blood pumping!

No doubt somewhere on the field a French band was playing this tune, in English "The Victory is Ours!" (Not so fast there Bonaparte!)

No doubt this old British march was heard upon the field as well!

And as the Prussians rolled into action on the French right flank, "Prussia's Glory" might be heard over the rattle of musketry and the boom of the guns. (Though on the march from Wavre across muddy farm tracks, the Prussians were heard to sing old Lutheran hymns!)

And just because I like it -

Another Old Air Force Sarge favorite -

Loves me some military music. Stirs the soul and puts a little spring in one's step.






* A warning Buck always counseled me to provide.

Gaffney

OK, First the Important Stuff!

• MBD's dress is at the fitter's requiring minimal alterations.  As is Mrs J's.
• Dance lessons for mois are scheduled to begin this week.  
• While I think I dance like this.
  
  
• I really look like this. (and dance and sing) 
  
  
• I'll probably end up still looking like Frankenstein.
• The rest of the wedding stuff is coming together nicely.

So we might just get through this after all.

In other news,  my computational device has failed.  It freezes a couple of minutes after logging in, and requires a hard shutdown to recover.  It's 6 years old, so probably time for a new one.  

In case anyone is asking, I'm writing this from the computer in my office at work.  Yes, I'm working.

Or rather Powershell and Sql Server are working, querying every computer in the district for their name and service tag.  We'll be using that information to rename every computer in the district with a new naming convention which will, of course, make everything "bigger, better, faster".

Or so they say.

Dang, juvat! What an exciting job you've got!  Nothing boring like this.

Ahhh...Those were the days.

Sarge forwarded an email from Ox saying that he also had been a passenger onboard the USNS Hugh J. Gaffey a few years earlier than I.  Which led me to do some Binging on her history (sounds kinda weird saying "her" on a ship named for a guy, but I'm Air Force... wadooino?)

Anyhoo, here's the info packet distributed to passengers on the ship.

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Copied, almost verbatim, from this site.  The Gaffney was a Admiral W. S. Benson Class Transport:

Laid down, 15 December 1942, as a Maritime Commission type (P2-SE2-R1) hull, under Maritime Commission contract (MC hull 679), at Bethlehem-Alameda Shipyard Inc., Alameda, CA.

Launched, 20 February 1944

Acquired by the US Navy from the Maritime Commission, 18 September 1944

Originally commissioned USS Admiral W. L. Capps (AP-121), 18 September 1944, CAPT. Niels S. Haugen, USCG, in command

During World War II USS Admiral W. L. Capps operated in both the Asiatic-Pacific and the Europe-Africa-Middle East Theaters

Following World War II USS Admiral W. L. Capps was assigned to Occupation service in the Far East for the following periods:

Navy Occupation Service Medal
22 to 29 January 1946
20 to 25 March 1946

Decommissioned, 8 May 1946

Struck from the Naval Register, date unknown

Returned to the Maritime Commission for transferred to the US Army Transportation Service, renamed USAT General Hugh J. Gaffey

Reacquired by the Navy, 1 March 1950 and placed in service by the Military Sea Transportation Service (MSTS) as USNS General Hugh J. Gaffey (T-AP-121)

In 1956, a 10 month old boy saved the ship by reporting an Iceberg while enroute to Okinawa.

Placed out of service and struck from the Naval Register, 9 October 1969

Transferred to the Maritime Administration for lay up in the National Defense Reserve Fleet

Reacquired and reinstated in the Naval Register, 1 November 1978

Placed in service as a barracks hulk, redesignated Miscellaneous Unclassified IX-507

Laid up in the NISMF Pearl Harbor, HI., date unknown

Struck from the Naval Register, 25 October 1993

Given that she was laid up in Pearl Harbor at least until '93, I've probably laid eyes on her again since the area where those ships were stored was visible from my off base house when first assigned to Camp Smith.  Small World.
Apparently, on June 16, 2000, she had a rendezvous with a missile and can now be found about 2700 fathoms down as a reef.

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"Hugh Joseph Gaffey, born 18 November 1895, in Hartford, Conn., attended Officers Training School at Fort Niagara, N.Y., and was commissioned Second Lieutenant in the Field Artillery Reserve 15August 1917. Assigned to the 312th Field Artillery at Fort Meade, Md., he went to Europe in August 1918 and served in France and Germany before returning to the United States in August 1919. During the next two decades he served at various posts in the United States and served with the 15th and 18th Field Artillery and the 7th Cavalry Brigade. Assigned to the I Armored Corps in July 1940, he served with them until July 1942 when he was assigned to the 2d Armored Division. Appointed Brigadier General 5 August 1942, he was sent to the European Theater in November. From 1943 to 1944 he was the Commanding General of the 2nd Armored Division. In April 1944, he was designated Chief of Staff for General Patton's 3d Army fighting in France. He then assumed command of the 4th Armored Division in December. From 1945 to 1946 he was the Commandant of the Armored School. Major General Gaffey was killed in a B-25 crash at Goodman Field, Ky., June 1946." 

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Breed's Hill 1775

Boston, 1775
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"What say you Major? Time to give the bloody colonials the bill for Concord I would think."

Major John Pitcairn simply nodded at the man, that march through the Massachusetts countryside back in April still rankled with him. Too many fine men lost, and to what purpose? Here we are again, marching to the colonists tune, what will be the butcher's bill this day?

"Sergeant Barnes!"

"SIR!"

"Prepare the men, we will advance shortly."

"SIR!"

Major Pitcairn watched the first wave falling back down the slope, gaps in the ranks, the men a bit shaken but quickly recovering themselves. Drawing his sword he walked down the ranks of his Marines, gauging their readiness for this advance. Fine lads, he thought to himself, I almost pity those men on the hill.

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As the British fell back from the galling fire the militia had poured into them, one man stood atop the breastwork...

"Huzzah lads! We've shown the lobsterbacks what for! Huzzah!"

"Get down from there Wheelock, some redcoat might shoot you for making all that racket."

"Certainly Nathaniel, but we gave them a thrashing didn't we?"

"Yes we did, Private Wheelock. Need I remind you that when we're on active service, you're to call me captain? Is that too much to ask of my darling wife's idiot brother?" Though said with a smile, young Jason Wheelock took the hint, his older sister was always chiding him for being 'too frivolous.'

"Yes sir, Captain Sir! I shall try and remember."

"Good now, get ready, I hear the drums, seems like the lobsterbacks want to try again."

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"Marines! Shoulder your FIRELOCKS!" Pitcairn barked out as he moved to his position near the drummers in front of the battalion. Turning to his son, he said...

"Mind yourself well today William, we don't want your Mother to mourn either of us, do we?"

"No Sir, I shall tread cautiously this day!"

Drawing his sword, Major Pitcairn raised it aloft and barked, "Battalion! To the front, MARCH!" As the drums began to rattle, the 2nd Marines stepped off. Looking to his right, the major could see that General Howe's troops were rallying and were starting to advance back up the hill themselves.

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Captain Nathaniel Jones looked over his men, they were nervous, he could tell by the way they fidgeted and brushed the sweat from their foreheads.

"Steady lads, steady! Wait for it, don't fire too soon. Wait for it..."

The rattle of the British drums was most unnerving, the men advancing on their position appeared to be Royal Marines, Jones had served with them in the war against the French, not lads to be trifled with. Well then, I think that is close enough.

"FIRE LADS! GIVE THEM A VOLLEY!"

The British seemed to stagger as the smoke rolled down from the freshly turned dirt, chasing the hail of lead balls which had smashed into the redcoated men advancing up the hill. They faltered, but only for a moment.

Then another volley rang out, more men went down.

Captain Jones heard the British officers and sergeants commanding their men to fall back. Perhaps we have won this day, he thought to himself. At that point his neighbor and sergeant tugged at his sleeve.

"That's it Sir, we are dry, there is no more shot, nor powder to propel it. What are your orders Nate?"

He could see that some of the men were reloading, some of them with pebbles scooped from the ground beneath their feet.

"Alright lads, if they come on again, we'll give them one more volley, that should do it. But be ready to pull back towards Cambridge if need be. Steady now, here they come."

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As the Marines approached the breastworks before them, Pitcairn saw the colonials leaning forward, ready to give fire, but the volley was weak, uncoordinated. Damn my eyes, they are out of ammunition!

"BATTALION! CHARGE BAYONETS! CHARGE! AT THEM LADS!!"

As Pitcairn stepped forward, looking back at his Marines, he saw motion in the corner of his eye, to the left. Some fellow was actually aiming at him! How quaint...

The ball hit the major hard, he was down, barely conscious as his battalion dashed past him and into the rebel works. His son William had seen him fall and was quickly at his side.

"I have lost my father!"

A few Marines faltered and came back to where William knelt by his father. A few of them dropped to their knees and wept openly. Major John Pitcairn was a popular officer.

Death of John Pitcairn
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Somewhere over the crest of the hill, men were cheering. But to the men around John Pitcairn, it was a bitter day, a day many would remember to the day they died. The day their officer fell leading his Marines against their fellow Englishmen.

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The Battle of Bunker Hill, as we call it, though in truth it was fought on Breed's Hill was a British victory, but a very costly victory. One thousand and fifty four British soldiers fell taking a hill from colonial militia. The breakdown of the casualties:

• 19 officers killed
• 62 officers wounded
• 207 soldiers killed
• 766 soldiers wounded

Nearly 49% of the force. With victories like that, British hopes of quelling the rebellion were slim. Though they persisted in trying for eight more years. Sir William Howe, who was to replace Thomas Gage as commander in the colonies, was forevermore shy of assaulting American positions head on. Henry Clinton, also on the field, would succeed Howe and have even less success, content to sit in New York and let the rebels come to him.

So in the long run, it was a British victory that sowed the seeds of eventual British defeat.

But for William Pitcairn, it was the day he lost his father.

Major John Pitcairn, of His Majesty's Royal Marines, born in Scotland, died in Massachusetts within sight of Boston, where he lies interred in Christ Church Cemetery to this very day.

Perhaps 'tis fitting to remember the son, and the father, on this Fathers Day, which is also the 243rd anniversary of the Battle of Bunker Hill.

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It is well to remember, that history is made by people, that the casualties suffered in battle are not just numbers.