The Opening Moves

(Source)

Capitaine Joseph Martin walked next to his company Sergent-major, Alphonse Juin. This countryside was so familiar to him, as it should be, he had grown up in this area. His little farm wasn't but two leagues from where he walked with his men.

He wondered if his wife would ever speak to him again? She had been angry when he had left to rejoin his emperor. His father had assured him that she would forgive him, eventually. Provided, of course, he came back alive and in one piece.

The preceding days had passed in a muddle of orders and counter-orders. His unit had sat idly by the road when units from an entirely different corps had begun to pass through their bivouac.

"What is this? Where are you men bound?" He had inquired of another captain on the road.

"Fourth Corps, why haven't you people moved yet? The sun has been up for an hour now."

Martin's Third Corps had indeed received no orders, General Vandamme, the corps' commander, was still asleep in his headquarters when elements of Gérard's Fourth Corps began to pass through his area.

Vandamme had been awakened and had been furious, "What is that fool Soult up to? Why have we received no orders? Damn it, Capitaine Auger, get the men up and moving while I try to figure out what the Hell is going on."

Once things had been straightened out, they were trying to hustle up the roads towards Charleroi to make up for lost time. But one did not try to move 16,000 men along the same routes being clogged up by the men of another corps.

Martin looked over at his men, they seemed happy to be moving forward. 

"Alphonse."

"Oui, mon capitaine?"

"The men are in good spirits, aren't they? They seem to have a spring in their step, an eagerness, don't you think?"

Sergent-major Juin looked at the men, most of them seemed a bit put out for setting out late, and without having had a chance to make breakfast. He rolled his eyes before looking back at this new captain with his silly Belgian accent.

The captain had been assigned to this company in mid-May, Juin hadn't had much of a chance to get a feel for the man yet. But to Juin, he seemed a bit over-eager.

"Yes Sir, the men seem fine. Too bad we couldn't have had breakfast this morning, but the boys will get their cooking pots out at midday I suppose. We'll have time to prepare rations then, right Sir?"

Martin was looking at a windmill in the distance, that had to be near Marchienne he thought. "What's that Sergent-major?"

"Food, Sir. The men are hungry, I know I could use a bit of biscuit or something myself right now."

"I'm sure the Emperor will have thought of that, Juin. For now we march!"

Juin shook his head, "Oui, mon capitaine." 

Privates Will Thomas and Jack MacKenzie had their eyes on a couple of chickens pecking in the dirt near their bivouac. Though they'd eaten breakfast that morning, they were still hungry. Army rations, though good, weren't always plentiful.

Neither man could really remember the hardscrabble existence they'd led before joining the army. All they knew was they were hungry right now, and who knows if they'd be eating again today. Rumor had it that Boney was on the move and that their regiment might be moving up soon.

"Right lads, eyes off the poultry. You do know that looting is a hanging offense, right?"

Captain Morris McGilvery had seemed to emerge from nowhere just as the two lads had convinced themselves that no one would miss one of those chickens.

"Of course, Sir, we was just thinking about it, that's all, Sir. No harm in thinking, is there Sir?" MacKenzie had protested.

"Mind you don't act on those thoughts now. I'd hate to see ya swinging from a tree, don't ye know?"

"Sir, we wouldn't like that either, Sir." Thomas had agreed with his officer.

"Right then laddies, best be getting your kit in shape. I've a feeling we'll be in action soon."

"Really Sir, are the rumors true, Sir?" MacKenzie seemed about to continue on when McGilvery stopped him with a raised hand.

"Don't be listening to rumors, Mac. We just go where the Duke and old Tom Picton tell us to go. No need to gi' yersel a headache with thinking too much. Right laddie?"

"Of course, Sir, right you are!"

After the captain had moved on Thomas looked at MacKenzie, "Maybe them chickens laid some eggs nearby?"

MacKenzie shook his head, "Ye're daft, if I'm to be hanged it'll be for a whole chicken, not just the bleeding eggs!"

Michel Ney approached the Emperor carefully, though he was furious that he had been recalled to the army this late in the game, he was also somewhat nervous. If Napoléon was to fail, he doubted Louis would forgive his changing sides. So they must not fail.

"You sent for me, Sire?"

Napoléon looked up from his maps, he seemed distracted. "Yes Ney, it seems that Gérard and Vandamme have made a muddle of things. But I'll sort that out. The Prussians are here."

As Ney looked at the map and saw where the Emperor was pointing, he spoke, "How can I help, Sire?"

"Yes, yes, yes, now pay attention Ney. I want you to take Reille's corps in hand along with Kellerman's cavalry. Advance along this axis." Napoléon again pointed at the map, Ney noted that the Emperor was pointing at a small crossroads, Quatre Bras from what he could see.

"While I crush the Prussians, I want you to take the crossroads here so that the English won't be a danger to my left flank. I will also give you the corps of d'Erlon. But I expect you to send them down this road, the one leading to Sombreffe, while you drive les Anglais away from the crossroads, d'Erlon will come in behind the Prussians. Is that clear, Ney?"

"Yes, Sire, very clear. Am I to command then, your left wing?"

"Yes, yes, now go. I have to make sure Soult sends out the right orders. He has confused things, but there is still time to make it right!"

Ney hesitated, Napoléon noticed and snapped, "Why are you still here, Ney? Activity, speed, now go, get your troops moving!"

The board is set, the pieces are in play.

The clouds of war gather on the horizon.

As the Research Ain't Done Yet ...

Screen capture from the video below

You get music ...

That music from Last of the Mohicans always gets to me. The name of the tune is The Gael, written by Dougie MacLean of Scotland. So yeah, that music is in my bones and the appreciation of it comes down from my ancestors. One of my favorite movies, one of my favorite soundtracks. Breathtaking scenery, incredible music, and an excellent film.

In other news, the Foo Fighters have a new album coming out in early June . The first since the death of their drummer, Taylor Hawkins, over a year ago. Yes, I have heard the first single from the album, and sure, why not, I'll post it here ...

Yes, I like it. Some Foo fans don't, I do.

As to research, I haven't re-read the book sections I mentioned before, I also need to grab the characters I've already created and figure out what I want them to do over the course of the book. (Grab as in put in a spreadsheet, I'm an engineer. We use spreadsheets, sometimes flow charts ... Sigh.)

Enjoy the music, see you in a bit.

Ciao!

Where We've Been, Where We're At, and Where We're Going ...

Charge du Quatrième Hussards à la Bataille de Friedland, 14 juin 1807¹
Édouard Detaille (PD)

So, a bit of a pause in the fiction writing in order to let you know where I'm going with this latest effort. One of those "behind the scenes" posts I will do when I'm too lazy/tired/burnt out to actually work on the actual, ya know, fiction story I'm working on. Or supposed to be working on ...

The last time I started a Napoleonic series I burned out pretty quickly and the reason for that is I was starting at the beginning of the Napoleonic wars with no real concept of how I was going to form the story into something coherent. The entire thing was just too big.

I really want to do a novel of the Napoleonic Wars, but I let that simmer for a while. Then it hit me (after reading Andrew W. Field's superb series on Waterloo and the excellent book on the defense of La Haye Sainte by Brendan Simms), why not a novel of the Waterloo campaign? Start when Napoléon lands at Golfe Juan and take it to the bitter end.

The early part would introduce the characters, and set the stage historically. That's the "where we've been" part, though we're not quite finished with that, the prelude if you will.

Where we're at is early June of 1815 (the last installment ended on the 31st of May), Wellington's and Blücher's armies are in place, sitting in Belgium with a plan to invade France in July. They are not yet aware that Napoléon is headed their way.

Well, Napoléon and about 120,000 of his men are moving north.

We've met some of them, we've also met a few of their opponents in the Anglo-Allied and Prussian armies.

The army being led by the Emperor of France is called l'Armée du Nord, the Army of the North. There were other armies in France, much smaller and with duties that were defensive in nature because most of Europe was in arms and advancing towards the French frontiers. But they would take a while to arrive, do you know how long it takes to walk from Moscow to Paris?

Twenty-three days according to Google maps, and that's if you don't stop! The distance is roughly 1,700 miles, traveling that far in 23 days means walking at a steady pace of 3 mph. Coming from Vienna is a little quicker, 720 miles (give or take) would take about ten days (non-stop) at 3 mph.

Of course, first you have to get those armies together, give them their orders, then start marching. So Napoléon does have some time, not a lot mind you, but some time to deal with those two armies in Belgium before the Russians and Austrians show up. (Not to mention the Swedes, Bavarians, and other smaller states who have a beef with the French emperor and are also marching towards France.)

Strategic situation in the Spring of 1815
Map courtesy of The Department of History, United States Military Academy
Click to embiggen

What I've been doing is setting the stage, introducing the players (which I'm not sure if I'm done with that or not, may be a few more guys who need to be in the mix, depends on which aspects of the campaign I intend to cover, which right now is "all of it.") We're almost ready for the first shots to be fired.

I first need to go back and reread one of the sections of one of Field's books where he covers the errors made before the French encountered their first enemy soldier. Units not getting orders, units getting orders out of sequence and hey, for good measure let's throw in a French division commander who deserts to the enemy before the campaign has heard its first shots fired. (He took quite a few of his staff with him by the way.) I think I remember what happened but I need the details clear in my own head.

Fighting began on the 15th of June with the French working to get over the Sambre River, which the Prussians were guarding, sort of. Things got hot, but at the end of the day the French were over the Sambre and had taken Charleroi. Blücher was prepared to fight just north of the town of Fleurus and awaited the French there with three-fourths of his army.

The Anglo-Allied army was still up in the air as to Napoléon's intentions, Wellington seemed to think that the French would try and turn his right flank to sever his line of communications with the English Channel so he was set up to prevent that.

Once French intentions were clearer, he ordered his army to concentrate at a place where he could cover Brussels and the Channel but not really stay in contact with the Prussians. A Dutch general countermanded one of Wellington's orders to a Dutch unit and had them hold the little crossroads of Quatre-Bras, a decision which probably decided the entire campaign in favor of those fighting against the French. 

The 16th of June saw heavy fighting to the west of the town of Ligny. The French won the day forcing the Prussians back. Further west, at that little crossroads noted above, the Anglo-Allies managed to hold out against the rather lethargic efforts of French Marshal Ney. So one day, two battles, I intend to cover both.

The 17th was a day where Wellington's army and Blücher's army had to retreat. The Prussians because they lost the Battle of Ligny (which went down in history as Napoléon's last victory), the Anglo-Allies, though they had won the Battle of Quatre-Bras (or at least enforced a stalemate) because the Prussians had left Wellington's left flank in the air. And yes, we will be there during that retreat.

Napoléon had succeeded at his first goal, split his enemies, defeat one, then turn on the other.

The 18th saw two battles, the more famous one at Waterloo and the little known Battle of Wavre. Yes, we'll see both of them play out, but with a heavy concentration on the main affair on the ridge at Mont St Jean.

So that's what I'm planning. This effort seems more "do-able," which means I might actually finish it, having a clearly defined, relatively short, time.

We shall see.

I'm ready to write, I have the urge to write. Work is going to be very busy the next couple of weeks but I shall strive to move my story forward. (And also get Almost A Lifetime finished and published, finished we're close, published, we shall see.)

That's where I'm at, that's where I'm going.

But man, April has kicked my ass.

Ciao!

¹ Charge of the 4th Hussars at the Battle of Friedland, 14 June 1807.

Don't Interrupt the Sorrow ...

The Sorrow of Love
(Source)

Tuesday was an emotional day, Anya's ashes came home, which completely took the wind out of my sails.

A horrible dream on Monday night, "they" had lost her ashes and I feared she would not find us. A primitive fear, but very real to me. Sleep was fleeting and disturbed. Much like the night before her final trip to the vet.

Before lunch, something told me to make a phone call, so I did, to our vet. When they answered they said, "Ah, we left you a message to call us, Anya is here."

Yes, I know, she wasn't there, but what remains was. Important to us as we mean to have our cats with us when we travel to the other side. Not having her ashes would have left me bereft.

I was in the main lobby of our building at work. I thanked the lady, she sounded sad, no doubt she's made that call many times. I stood there for a moment after hanging up, emotions bubbling up, but I took a deep breath and went about the rest of the day. A short one but a tough one nevertheless.

I left early to pick her up, remembering the last time I went there. This was different but nearly as hard.

She's home now, spiritually and physically.

As we did with our cat family members before - Tiger, Pat, Sasha, and now Anya - we can mourn, we can eventually recover and think of all of the happy times together. Nearly thirty years worth.

It's a time to mourn, a time to remember, and yes, even a time to cry.

More Waterloo on the 'morrow ...

But not right now.

Peace.

On the Banks of the Sambre, Near Charleroi

Generalfeldmarschall Gebhard Leberecht von Blücher
Commander of the Prussian Army of the Lower Rhine
1815
(Source)

Manfred and Wolfram Klepper were simple soldiers in the Prussian Army. Both had been inducted into the army in 1813, neither had fought at Leipzig, but both had been in at the kill in 1814. The boys remembered Paris well.

Now Bonaparte was back at it and they, along with the rest of their battalion, were guarding a bridge over the Sambre River, just south of Charleroi. The brothers were on duty at a road block which their pioneers had constructed at the mid-point of the bridge. Their orders were simple: delay the French long enough so that the pioneers could light the charges they had set on and under the bridge.

"Hopefully those fuses are long enough to let us get back to our side of the river!" Wolfram had said, glancing at their officer.

"You'd best pay attention to your own duties, Klepper! If I want you on this bridge shooting Frenchmen, then by God you'll stay right on this very spot until I say otherwise!" their sergeant had barked.

Sergeant Hans Pizzeck was a rough old fellow, Manfred (the older of the brothers by five minutes) said more than once that the old sergeant had probably served under Frederick the Great. Wolfram had guffawed aloud at that.

Which had earned the twins extra duties for a week!

Though Pizzeck wasn't quite that old, he had fought in the battles in 1806 and had seen the Prussian Army torn apart by Bonaparte's new way of war, he was an old soldier by any definition. He'd been a sergeant in 1806 and hadn't seen battle since then! Now in his mid-forties, he often complained that if they had hanged Bonaparte in 1814, he could be at home with his grandchildren.

"Keep your eyes peeled you two, we've had reports of Frenchies sneaking across the river to spy on us and Belgies sneaking south to rejoin their old comrades. I suspect that Corsican bastard will make his move soon. I feel it in my bones!"

Wolfram sniggered and said, sotto voce, to his brother. "Is he sure it's not the rain making his bones ache?"

Manfred snorted then quickly covered it with a fit of coughing.

Pizzeck snarled at them, "Less comedy, more soldiering, you two idiots. If you like extra duties, I've got plenty."

After the sergeant had moved down to the next post, the houses on the Prussian side of the river were all manned and set up as strong points, Wolfram looked at his brother.

"Well, I guess we better keep our eyes open, brother. Hey, look, over there, gotta be a French cavalryman, right?"

Manfred looked in the direction Wolfram was pointing and saw a very old farmer riding a very old horse. "Sure brother, probably Imperial Guard, Lord knows he looks old enough to have been in Egypt before the turn of the century!"

The "old" man saw the two Prussians on the bridge, laughing and gesturing at him. He could hear their gibes as well. Looking closer, he could see ten or fifteen other men atop the bridge behind the barrier on the bridge.

He also noticed the houses along the far bank, all with signs of being occupied by soldiers. He made a mental note to advise his commander that this bridge might not be the one he'd choose to cross on the way to Charleroi. There was another further upstream which had no houses on the far bank and was manned only by a detachment of Prussian cavalry.

Dash across there and these Prussians here would have the Emperor's Armée du Nord behind them. They would have two options at that point, surrender, or die.

Chef d'escadron¹Louis de Gaudry preferred that they would choose the latter option. He hated the Prussians with a passion, they had hanged his father during the 1814 campaign in France and had raped the women in his family when they had overrun his home village.

Satisfied that his disguise was working, he nevertheless decided to turn back to his camp. He didn't think this horse he'd borrowed had many more leagues in him. Poor thing had to be fifteen years old and had been worked hard every day. But he was a tough old nag, rather like de Gaudry himself.

He actually had been in Egypt with Bonaparte in 1798, nearly 17 years ago when he'd been a brand new sous-lieutenant of Chasseurs à Cheval. Of course, he was nearly 23 at the time, having served in the ranks for five years before that.

Now he was forty, well, he would be on the 18th of next month. And yes, he was in the Imperial Guard. Perhaps his disguise wasn't as good as he thought!

The column halted again, Sergent Nicolas Guilbert wondered what the hold up was this time.

"I tell you Pierre, at this rate we might make Brussels sometime in October!" he groused at his fellow sergeant, Pierre Grandchamp.

Pierre nodded and said, as he pulled out his pouch of tobacco and his pipe, "Might as well have smoke while we wait."

He offered the pouch to Guilbert, who shook his head and muttered, "No, but thanks ..."

Guilbert turned as he heard a commotion towards the rear of the column. "Damn it, another damned courier."

As he said that he had his men shuffling off to the side of the road to make way for yet another mounted courier from headquarters.

As the man passed them, his horse kicking up clods of mud, Guilbert noticed that this courier was one of the Imperial equerries, a messenger from le Tondu himself.

It was the last day of May, the weather had been spotty with quite a bit of rain. It was still chilly at night and they had been sleeping rough since they'd left the outskirts of Paris. Marching ten hours a day, every Guardsman could sense that the Emperor was in a hurry.

One of the officers had asked a farmer that morning, "How far are we from the Low Countries?"

The man had thought about it for a moment, then said, "About four days on foot. You lads might make it in five, there's an awful lot of you!"

The Emperor had decided, he would strike into Belgium. He knew roughly where the dividing line was between Wellington and Blücher, he would strike there. He had a feeling that the English would be worried about their line of retreat to the coast. The Prussians would be looking over their shoulders back to the Rhine.

Strike them while they're separated, crush one, then crush the other.

Then, and only then, he would dictate the terms of peace from the palace in Brussels!

¹ Squadron commander, cavalry rank equivalent to a Major.

Potpourri

 So...There I was...*  Flat out of Airspeed, Altitude and Ideas. (Yes, Beans, been there before, never liked it, nor the usual outcome).  Fortunately, in a comment on Sarge's post from yesterday where he had revealed his inner U-Boat driver wish, Scott the Badger had mentioned "Norwegian Forest Rescue Cats".

My first thought was "We have two of those!" But the "Forest" part threw me for a loop.  I didn't think that had been part of their breed's name.  So, I went to the source of all possible knowledge about any possible subject both in the known Universe and the unknown Universe.

Why, Beans, that would be my Wife, of course, not Google!  What a silly question to ask.

I will edit out portions of her response, because Sarge wants this to be a Family Friendly Blog.

"juvat, you **** ***** ****,  They're not Norwegian anything Cats!  They're Korats!"

Me being me, and ever curious where my brain has wandered off to, decided to confirm her answer.

Yes, Beans, after we had returned from Breakfast and I was alone in my office.

ANYHOW, and as usual, she was right.

You decide

Norwegian Forest Feline	Korat Feline
MoushKa	MooshKa
Guarding Mrs. J's Desk	This Guard Cat Thing is HARD work

So, juvat, what new and important information did you find out about Korat Cats? Well, Sarge, interestingly this site had some pretty good info about them.  Much of that, I had already learned from the cats themselves.  They are quite affectionate, vocal, playful and very friendly.  First written about in 1350 BCE, until the '60s, they were only given away as gifts as a sign of respect and affection.  There was one other statistic in the article that caught my eye.

Korat's cost between $400 and $2000.  We have two.

So,  juvat, how did you afford that much for a couple of cats?

Well, Sarge, apparently their former owners are either extraordinarily generous in "giving" them to us or they are dumber than a box of rocks. My vote is on the latter.

You see, there appears to be a program in place where city folk who have grown tired of their pets, drive out into the country and drop them off in the middle of nowhere.  The Animal Good Fairy then directs them to a suitable domicile where they will be welcomed with open arms.

Or, they starve to death, get killed by a predator, run over by a car or otherwise meet their demise.

Moushka and Mooshka showed up at our doorstep early one morning.  They were pretty dirty, very thirsty and incredibly hungry.  A bit of water, a small helping of kitty food, a wipe down with a damp rag and a successful introduction to the other adoptees all obtained from a similar situation (grand total for the family is now 7 Cats and 1 Dog, plus 2 pound puppies and 2 pasture ponies, 3 cats, 3 dogs and 2 horses are still with us).

From Front to Back: Oskar (pound puppy), Cooper (pound puppy), Annie (wandered onto the property)

 

Schmedley wandered onto the property. Based on injuries she had, the Vet believed she'd been thrown from a moving car.

Suffice it to say, if I EVER catch someone doing that dump and run crap...well, I hope the jury is composed of animal lovers.

This was done right. Breeding farm was going under.  Turned the horses over to a Vet, who advertised them.  Cabernet and Merlot (L to R) now reside on Rancho juvat

 

Oh, well, on to a happier subject.  MBD and The Rev have signed the contract for their house.  Our plan is to visit next Saturday and give it a look see.  It was a bit pricey, but doable.  Our objective is to see what Mrs. J and I can do to help and lower fixing/moving costs a bit.  Back in my caveman days, I painted my way through college, so I should be able to help there.  We'll see.  I may have to negotiate with my blogger boss as painting on the weekends with a 3 hour drive each way, may impart a slight impedance to blogging on Monday, we'll see.

Had a good time Saturday nite at our Wine Maker Friend's Winery.  They host a quarterly dinner for their wine club members.  This one's theme was Poor Man's Dinner.  It's generally held around April 15th and features Beans and Corn Bread as the menu, hence the name. It did include Wine (of course).  Surprisingly, the meal was quite tasty.  Many of the participants had gone on the Wine Cruise in March, so Mrs. J and I knew most folks there.  Mrs. J's heavily into planning another Wine Cruise from Nuremburg to Luxembourg on the Rhine,Moselle and Main Rivers in November '24.  Our Friends wanted her to give a short spiel about the trip to start generating interest.  The March Cruise was a blast, this one should be no different.

While we were sitting at the table eating, we got introduced to the Brother of one of the ladies that went on the cruise.  He'd obviously been briefed as the first thing he asked was what had I flown.  I told him and he told me that he'd been a C-130 and C-5 pilot.  He was about a year ahead of me going through pilot training, so we had a blast telling "war" stories.  All in all, it was a good time.

Finally, MBD and Little J had asked me to put together a notebook of my favorite recipes that I cook.  It's one of those on again/off again projects.  While I've typed up a lot of my recipes, I haven't had much enthusiasm about the project.  Until now.

 

This week, I happened to have been going through the closet in my office (sometimes referred to as "The Dump") when I saw a plastic box I had forgotten about quite a while ago.  It was full of my Mom's favorite (and therefore my favorite) recipes.

Well, retyping them into the computer should keep me off the streets at night for a while.  All were hand written.  Yeah, my eyes leaked a bit. Only fair...She is my Mom!

Peace out y'all!

Nichts Neues¹

Control Room, USS Dolphin (AGSS-555)
Sandy Eggo, January 2016
OAFS Photo

Well, Saturday was the day I chose to do my taxes, both Federal and State. So yeah, fun times.

It wasn't too bad, yes, I had to send money to Uncle Sam, but that just means that I get to use my money during the year. I remember the days of looking forward to a return, until the day I said, "Hey, wait a minute, that's my money, I think I'll keep as much as I can."

So I had less taken out, just enough to abide by the ever changing rules. Now I don't wait for a refund, Uncle Sam gets to wait on the check. (Though in truth it's all done online, he gets his dough immediately.)

I was going to write this post yesterday, then inspiration hit so I worked on advancing the story of Les Cent Jours, which if you've been reading the labels (down there, near the bottom of the post), you'll note is the label (and probable overall title) for this current batch of fiction.

The Hundred Days, which is roughly the amount of time which passed from Napoléon landing on the Riviera to his having lost his throw of the dice. Give or take a week or two and depending on who you listen to as to the criteria used to block off this period in time.

It seemed like a very limited and well-defined (not to mention documented) period of history within which I could have a few fictional characters and a cuppla real people. I didn't do that in Almost a Lifetime but I'm doing it here. Couldn't resist the urge to put my words in the Emperor's mouth. I do try to keep it close to what might plausibly have been said by these famous personages.

I've got a John Blackshoe post in reserve but it won't see the light of day just yet, for various and sundry reasons known only to myself. It's a fine post, but it's kinda sad and I've had my fill of sadness for the moment.

In case you're wondering, yes, the house feels bloody empty without a feline presence. I hear a bump and it sounds just like a cat jumping down off of something. I hear them meowing too at times. The furry kids are missed. A lot.

Not sure if we'll do it again, I've heard The Missus Herself go from a straight up "No" in one conversation some days ago, to a qualified, "I don't know, we need to think about it."

But for sure not until next month, we have some traveling on tap and don't wish to leave new kitties behind while we do that. It was hard enough doing it with the established felines. They did not appreciate not having their full time human staff at their beck and call.

Can't say I blame them.

Speaking of travel, a possible work trip to Sandy Eggo might be happening in July. I'd like to get out there one last time for the ship I've been working for and on. Retirement looms, but with this new four-day schedule, I just might push that out to the right a bit more.

The money is good and medical benefits beat the you-know-what out of whatever Medicare and the like provide. So for now, I'm thinking about it. (Staying on longer that is ...)

Anyhoo, we'll get back to the war, or more properly the preparations for war, on Tuesday, unless something comes up, one never knows.

So, as juvat is wont to say, "Peace out."

Talk at you soon.

Ciao!

¹ Nothing new