Independence Day, 2006

(Source)

So the other day, over at koobecaF, this happened...

Here's that link mentioned above. (If you leave a comment there and it doesn't show up, it's because it's a post older than a week. Comments on old posts get moderated so siding salesmen from the subcontinent won't leave random comments. How they figure that increases sales is beyond me. What's more, I don't care. But I had to moderate comments on older posts. Sigh...)

I draw your attention to the comment The WSO (aka LUSH) made regarding the Fourth of July party held in the backyard at Chez Sarge when The WSO and her classmates were all newly minted ensigns in our Nation's Naval Service. Now bear in mind, as Lex might have said, it's my story though she might remember it differently. So, without further ado, here we go...

So, there I was...*

It was the Fourth of July, 2006, scarcely two months after The WSO and the Holy Cross NROTC class of 2006 had taken the Oath and pinned on their shiny new gold bars. Now The WSO was currently assigned duties out at T.F. Green (the local air patch) while awaiting a slot at NFO school down in Pensacola, or P-Cola, as it's sometimes called by the more raffish elements of society.

Anyhoo, the Navy had her flying about in a Cessna learning proper radio procedure from those who know such things. She'd talk on the radio, the pilot would fly the aircraft and tell her the right way versus the wrong way. (One of the wrong ways was intentionally mispronouncing Hyannis, as, you guessed it, "Hi Anus." One of the controllers there found it amusing, some of the others, not so much.)

As she was "working" nearby, she was assigned quarters at Chez Sarge (and no you will not charge your daughter rent). So it was good to have her at home (even if it was for free). At some point in the late spring or early summer, The WSO discovered that her college roommate's ship would be in Little Rhody for the Independence Day celebration. The ladies thought it would be just ducky to get the old gang back together for the Big Parade in Bristol. Perhaps The Missus Herself might cook her famous Korean BBQ and Yours Truly might spring for a selection of adult beverages.

I was in, as was The Missus Herself. The day of the parade things got a little dicey, when The WSO and I were spotted hauling an old door from the basement and laying it across a couple of saw horses.

"Um, what's that for?" the lady of the house inquired.

"Beer pong Mom. We're going to play beer pong." said The WSO.

"We are?" said Your Humble Scribe while displaying his trademark SEG.

"Oh no..." said the love of my life as she returned to the house.

So, the morning of the celebration of Our Nation's Independence, there were a number of newly minted ensigns on hand for the parade, Korean BBQ, and adult beverages. There was Megan, Danielle, Kyle, Chris, and a civilian classmate yclept Frigs (I think he was there, maybe not), The WSO, Yours Truly, and (of course) The Missus Herself. There might have been others, I can't recall. It was a long time ago. Relatively speaking.

Now I have friends who live on the parade route, hauling the young naval officers (and one civilian) down towards the main part of town, I realized that we had marched right past my friend's place. Surrounded by a gathering throng we had to "swim upstream" as it were. Most people were headed south, towards downtown, we had to backtrack north. Eventually we made it.

One of the young ensigns opined that perhaps we should have brought along some adult beverages as many were thirsty. I nodded and said, "Yes, that would have been a good idea. Stand by a moment..."

"REBECCA!! DO YOU HAVE EXTRA BEER?"

When the car alarms had all subsided, my friend Rebecca said that they were well stocked with adult beverages and the young'uns could help themselves. As could Your Humble Scribe. We watched the parade but eventually the call of beer pong was too strong. Into the street we went and again fought our way upstream.

Let me tell you something, I had never played beer pong before but I was killing it! The wily old Air Force Master Sergeant was showing the newly minted officers just how it was done. The young'uns were amazed and somewhat baffled that the fat old codger was slaughtering them at beer pong.

Well the point of beer pong is to land one's ping pong ball (beer pong ball?) into a beer filled Solo cup at the opponent's end of the table, forcing them to quaff said cup, and the more shots you sink, the more inebriated the opponent gets. Theoretically, after a while, all of their sensors will refuse to hold lock and hand-eye coordination deteriorates to the point where if they can even throw the ball in the general direction of the other end, they are doing quite well.

The playing field. (Source)

All the while however, Yours Truly is drinking what I liked to call "non-game beer." While I had to empty a Solo every now and then, I would have been fine except for the non-game beer. In other words, I was probably downing as much (if not more) then the kids at the other end of the table.

At one point I made some rather witty (and cutting) remark to one of my opponents and The WSO, who was sitting next to the table in one of those plastic lawn chairs (much like those in the opening photo) started to giggle. Her chair was adjacent to own of her mother's rose beds (of which there are many and by July the thorns are rather pronounced) and she then started laughing so hard that she inadvertently ejected herself from the field of play, into the rose bed, narrowly missing being ripped asunder by the thorns. All the while laughing like a loon. I too was laughing like a loon and discovered that I was quite inebriated now and none of my sensors would hold lock.

So the young'uns managed to make a valiant comeback and beat the wily old codger at beer pong. But at that point the Korean BBQ was ready. To the grill we went and fell on the results of The Missus Herself's cookery like hyenas on a gazelle carcass. There was much snarling and barking and posturing before she told us all to grab a dish, wait our turn, and shut the heck up. (She was rather like a lioness, driving off the scavengers! Though letting them back in once they stopped acting like hyenas.)

The food was excellent. Young Chris (who went on to serve in submarines and actually did a stint at the White House) decided, after dinner, that cigars would be just the thing. So, off he went to the tobacconist to purchase cigars.

Cheap cigars.

Never let an ensign buy cigars. Ever. This I have learned...

Well, I sat out front to smoke my cigar whilst quaffing another ale. I was feeling mighty fine, until dinner decided to reappear...

I swore The WSO to silence and indicated that I would be out in the morning to hose down the deck, so to speak.

Laughing maniacally she went to collect Megan, whose liberty expired at midnight, so we could deliver her to the pier to catch the last boat back to her frigate, anchored out in the Bay.

I had a heart to heart with the Senior Chief "welcoming" the sailors back from an evening on the town and would he please, please, please, get my ensign back to her rack all safe and sound like?

"Wow Sarge, she's blasted isn't she?" said the Senior Chief.

"Why yes, yes she is. As am I. I just hold it better." said I.

"Yeah Sarge, you're the very picture of sobriety."

With that we poured Megan into her ride and she rode the boat back to the ship, and I'm sure many recall Lex's tales of that last boat to the ship after a night on the town. Not that I know anything about that kind of thing.

The next morning, bright and early, head throbbing in the morning sunlight, awake before The Missus Herself, I was hosing down the front walk. Doing very nicely, all on the down-low without a soul being wise as to my task. Until the front door opened and the love of my life asked...

"Why are you watering the front walk?"

Before I could answer, The WSO, with an evil laugh, yelled down from upstairs...

"He's cleaning his puke off the walk!"

So much for keeping secrets.




*SJC

What Is That?

The tail of the Enola Gay
Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center

As I am still suffering the deleterious effects of getting up way too early after getting not nearly enough sleep, another short post is in order.

For those who need to know such things, on Wednesday last I dropped The Missus Herself off at the aeroporto round about four in the AM, ya know real early. While there were (much to my surprise and dismay) a rather large number of people there at that insane hour, we arrived with ample time for her to go through security and board her flight to California. She pinged me from Chicago, two hour layover, then later on from Sandy Eggo, six hour layover. Fresno, then Hanford once she left Sandy Eggo. Long day for her.

Don't question the scheduling, the overall journey, though long and boring, had two benefits 1) I didn't have to drive to Boston, and 2) it was fairly cheap for a semi-short notice flight. The WSO did all the scheduling (something she did professionally in the Navy... settle down, settle down, not all schedules are equal...) and met most of my criteria. Well, all actually. I also wanted an early flight out of PVD so as to avoid rush hour in the greater Providence metropolitan area. Which, while small, and no where near approximating Boston, NYC, DC or (shudder) Los Angeles traffic, is still a pain in the butt. (Heh, he said butt...)

Anyhoo, I dropped her off and returned to Chez Sarge with plenty of time to get ready for work and take myself thither, arriving much earlier than usual. After a cup of coffee, a wee breakfast sandwich, and the ritual perusal of the "overnight mail" (as Buck was wont to call it) I began my engineering activities.

Only to discover that I was about as effective as a manager semi-trained 12-year old boy. I could not focus, the computer monitors (I have two) were continually going fuzzy, and I had all the mental acuity of a sea urchin. (Not to insult sea urchins but they don't look all that bright, sorry.)

So after an hour and a half, I packed it in, I gave up, I departed the building and RTBed. I was just too tired to function at anything above the molecular level. In my defense, I have just finished a course of heavy duty antibiotics (for that whole intestinal malady I have mentioned in that past) and am still recovering. Made me grumpy and tired they did, not to mention tasting "like ass."

Once at home, I immediately dove into my rack (much to the delight of the feline staff, they like it when I stay home) and though having consumed two cups of coffee, I nearly immediately wandered off to dreamland. Where the dreams were many and weird. (Lately I have had many dreams of The Missus Herself and I living in domiciles different from where we actually live. Not sure what that means, not sure I want to know.)

Anyhoo. Whilst the explaining of why this is a short post has made it not so short, I see I have yet to get to the point.

And this is different from other days, how?

But yes, I digress.

The last time I was down in Old Virginny, The Nuke and her beau took The Missus Herself and I out to the Udvar-Hazy Center. The Nuke's beau, like myself, likes military aircraft, his late Dad actually flew F-106s in the Air Force, so he was an Air Force brat, though he did his stint in the Navy and, once again, I digress.

While at Udvar-Hazy he mentioned, "What's that door under the tail in the Enola Gay?" To my chagrin, I found I could not answer that question. Mortified I was and determined to "look that up!" (Old Air Force answer to any question you did not know the answer to. "I don't know," while honest, was unacceptable. Don't ask me, I don't make the rules...)

Now I have finally remembered to "look that up", perhaps now you might be wondering just what "door" am I talking about? Here's a close up -

That, my friend is a "retractable tail bumper."

No, really Sarge, what is it? Really, here's the proof, graphically and textually.

(Source)

Check out item #104 on the cutaway. (A larger version of that is here.)

This site had this to say: "The B-29 featured the first ever fully pressurized nose and cockpit in a bomber; an aft area for the crew was also pressurized. Since the bomb bays were not pressurized, a pressurized tunnel was devised to connect the fore and aft crew areas. A retractable tail bumper was provided for tail protection during nose-high takeoffs and landings."

So now I know what it is, and so do you. If anyone ever asks you what that door is under the Enola Gay's tail is, you'll know two things 1) it's not a door, and 2) you can tell them all about the B-29's amazing non-technicolor retractable tail bumper.

Or not.

New Civilian, Arriving...

PHILIPPINE SEA (June 12, 2015) Capt. William Koyama, commander of Carrier Air Wing (CVW) 5, prepares to achieve his 4000th flight hour in an F/A-18E Super Hornet from the Dambusters of Strike Fighter Squadron (VFA) 195 as it launches from the flight deck of the aircraft carrier USS George Washington (CVN 73). George Washington and its embarked air wing, CVW 5, are on patrol in the 7th Fleet area of responsibility supporting security and stability in the Indo-Asia-Pacific region. George Washington will conduct a hull-swap with the Nimitz-class aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan (CVN 76) later this year after serving seven years as the U.S. Navy's only forward-deployed aircraft carrier in Yokosuka, Japan. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Bryan Mai/Released)

Just a short post today. Spent far too little time in the rack last night as I had to get up at oh-dark-thirty to take The Missus Herself to the airport. She's off to California once again to assist The WSO as the latter makes the transition from the United States Navy to Civilian Contractor.

As she put it, "Dad, I can't just throw on a flight suit any more. I actually need to think about what I'm going to wear in the morning!"

Ah yes, the foibles and follies of "civvy street." Wearing mufti and all that, dontcha know? I had to adapt, millions of others have as well. Of course, the longer one stays employed by Uncle Sam in a uniformed capacity the harder it is to make the transition.

And boy howdy, no matter how you slice it, 11 years is a long time in the naval service.

From zipper suited sun goddess and member in good standing of the JOPA to Hinge Wife*. All in one day.

Congrats LUSH! Welcome to the "real" world.

And send your mother back soon, I suck at being a bachelor.



* Big Time became a "Hinge" on 01 March 2017.

Whither The Carriers?

USS Carl Vinson (CVN 70),USS Wayne E. Meyer (DDG 108) and USS Lake Champlain (CG 57) participate in a photo exercise with Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force destroyers: JS Hamagiri (DD 155), JS Samidare (DD 106), JS Umigiri (DD 1), JS Yudachi (DD 103). (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Kurtis A. Hatcher)

I will, from time to time, disagree with someone who leaves a comment. It doesn't happen a lot, but it does happen from time to time. If it's an intelligent comment and not some hysterical ranting diatribe, I will often leave the my own counter-comment "We agree to disagree." Hysterical ranting diatribes nearly always get deleted. It's my blog, I make the rules. However - comma...

Some comments with which I disagree do make me think. Sometimes I'll rethink my position and go forth a better man. Sometimes I still disagree, give it an "Oh well" and continue with life.

Now there are two fellows who comment here, with varying frequency, with whom I actually served in the Air Force. Both of them were Staff Sergeants on Okinawa when I was nobbut a lowly airman. I learned from both, both were good men to have around in a pinch. Especially if maintenance on the Weapon Control Systems of the mighty F-4 Phantom II was involved.

And what, pray tell you are asking yourself, does all this have to do with aircraft carriers? (For those of you of a certain age, I'll bet you thought I was going to say, "the price of tea in China," neh?)

Anyhoo, the two SSgts were yclept Russ and Bruce. Russ comments here under his actual name, Bruce prefers a pseudonym for his family name. Not a problem either way. Before I go too far off track, let's get down to it.

In my post from last month regarding the flattop, aka bird farm, aka aircraft carrier, Bruce left this comment. I gathered that he's not a fan of Uncle Sam's aquatically mobile airfield -

Bruce Brews March 24, 2017 at 9:43 AM

I'm going to voice what may be an unpopular opinion: I think building supercarriers is not the way to go. Compared to land bases they're obscenely inefficient, extremely vulnerable, and "too many eggs in the basket" both financially and in terms of morale.

Land bases are a much cheaper way to base aircraft than any carrier battle group ($4.5B to $13B for the carrier alone, depending on how you price it out, plus at least as much--maybe double--for the escorts). Land bases can be hardened so that you will only take out one plane or key building with a bomb (Tab-Vees, hardened maintenance facilities). You can't sink a land base: you can hole the taxiways and runways, but that's a relatively quick fix compared to months in dry dock for a damaged carrier--assuming the carrier makes it back to a friendly port. Land bases are also much more flexible in terms of the aircraft they can deploy: you can always use land bases for carrier aircraft. Using land-based planes on a carrier is much more problematic, the Doolittle Raid to the contrary.

Aside from the enormous financial cost, there's also the cost to morale if a carrier is lost. The Japanese were able to hide the loss of four carriers at Midway due to their total control of the press, but if we lost one or two supercarriers that's also a loss of 5000 sailors apiece: 100 per U.S. state. We could never hide that from the public. Can you imagine what a blow that would be?

I suggest it would be better to build smaller carriers with about 1/3 the displacement (50% heavier than the first Yorktown, 100% heavier than the first Wasp) and crew size of a super-carrier. I'm not a naval designer, so this is a pure guess on my part, but I think such a ship could carry up to 50 modern aircraft and would cost a lot less, maybe under a billion dollars. In terms of "showing the flag," a smaller carrier would be just as effective as what we have now. In terms of combat mission, a 40- or 50-plane air group would be adequate to carry out strikes in the initial stages of most wars. After the first days of the war, more carrier- and land-based aircraft (plus cruise missiles) could beef up the attack.

The biggest argument for carriers is their mobility, which allows you to apply airpower where you might not be able to. This is true. On the other hand, if we reduced the super-carrier force to five (one Atlantic, two Pacific, one Indian, one in drydock at any one time) and added seven to ten smaller carriers (let's say one North Atlantic, one South Atlantic, one Mediterranean, two Pacific, one Indian, one or two in drydock) we could have at least as much effective airpower around the globe.

The big-carrier lobby will never go for this, of course, but the battleship admirals would never have gone for a strategy that centered on submarines and aircraft carriers before the Pearl Harbor attack. I think it's something to be considered.

At the time I responded with a simple, "We agree to disagree."

In my defense for this less than cogent rely, I was under the weather suffering from the slings and arrows of diverticulitis. So to speak.

Now that I am once again the picture of semi-good health, I felt a more reasoned reply was in order. However, as I am an inherently fair fellow, I thought, "Why not give the readers a shot at this?" As many of you have actually served on those floating airfields and held key staff positions while serving, I count you as perhaps better qualified to answer Bruce's comment. He makes some good points, though again, we agree to disagree.

I will say one thing first, and it's something I believe in, heart and soul...

Si vis pacem, para bellum.

What say the commentariat? Have at it!

A little of This, a touch of That

So, evidently, Amazon has perfected Alexa in such a manner that even Pets can order through her.  Who knew?

However, my order last week for a case of blog posting ideas is on back order and delivery date is "undetermined".  After a week spent tormenting regaling Sarge's readership with vacation details, I am scrapping the bottom of the barrel for ideas.

But.....

There is hope.

In the Alles ist klar category, I learned something I'd always suspected, but was not positive was true.  The Air Force Academy was founded on April Fools Day.  Things make so much more sense now.  Who knew Old Ike was such a kidder.

Sitting on the porch of the Guest Cabin looking to the NorthWest.

In the "Life's little Pleasures" category.  Last week, we had a little problem with my Sister's cabin.  Seems that her shower would only produce hot water, which is great if you're planning to cook lobster, not so great if you're trying to get ready for work.  Mrs. Juvat has finally gotten an appointment to get Canine Flight's close in armament trimmed.  Given that I'm on blood thinners, even a little love swipe from one of them leaves me looking like something from a Friday the 13th Movie.  My sister can't get off work, so I finagled a late arrival for work.

The plumber swore "No problem, juvat! You're first on the list for tomorrow, we'll be there 0800 sharp, NLT 0830!"

Lying Bastiges!

So, I'm sitting on the porch of the Guest Cabin, since Blonde Flight was out in their yard, and I didn't need the hassle.  0945, Mrs Juvat comes back from the Vet.  She comes driving by with Canine Flight "helping".  I'm surprised she can see for all the help.

"Where's the plumber?"

"Good Question"

Fortunately, as you can see, it was a beautiful morning and it was fairly pleasant sitting out there doing nothing.

However......

"Well, something came up."

"Were you going to let us know?"

"Well....."

Arggggghhhh!

But it was a beautiful morning!

On the New Addition to the Family front.  It seems some fine person from town delivered a small crop of Kittens to the place in the dark of the night recently.  Momma Muskrat, leader of the Outdoor Feline Flight, has taken them under her care and Mrs Juvat (ever the Personnel Officer) has approved their reassignment to the Momma's flight.

So, welcome Mishka, Moshka and Mushka.  We hope to train them to become ferocious guard kitties who will protect Mrs. Juvat's Hibiscus plant from pillaging raccoons. But...It might be a while.

L to R Mishka, Moshka and Mushka.  I'm only certain about one's name. Hibiscus plant is on the left.

It's apparent, even to me, that vacation is over and things around Rancho Juvat are back to their always exciting rhythm.  Thank Heavens.

Although Google seems to know that we were in Scotland and is "helping me" accordingly.  Most of the YouTube Video recommendations I seem to get lately deal with Bag Pipes.  I thought this one humorous, YMMV.

It was a bit blustery, quite a bit of rain and a warning of a never spotted tornado, but in spite of all that things are quite lovely down here this time of year.

Anyone wonder why bluebonnets are the State Flower?

Fed Up

(Source)

Every now and then, Google and my machine, powered by Windows 10, will get into a pissing contest.

Google will refuse to search for anything and often will just declare itself "unavailable."

I know it's there, because I can pick up my Android phone and voilà, Google works just fine.

I suspect Microsoft of refusing to play nicely with others. Microsoft Edge will work just fine, except that, as a search engine, Bing sucks. Sorry there it is, I had to say it.

I am not a big fan of Microsoft. Before you point me at other operating systems, stop. In reality, I am not a big fan of computer software. It will stab you in the back every chance it gets.

Why?

Well, as a computer guy I know why. Nothing is ever done, there is always one more tweak that will make everything better. And guess what? That's like chasing unicorns. It ain't gonna happen.

Well, this too shall pass. But for now, I am too pissed off at Google and Microsoft to even contemplate writing a post. I have been wrestling with my software "tools" all afternoon and I've had quite enough thank you.

I refuse to participate in this dumpster fire.

Every now and then computers piss me off. Saturday night was one of those days. So for now...

Fire truck Google.

Fire truck Microsoft.

Grrrr...

Science Fiction

(Various sources, mostly Amazon)

As most of you know, I like to read. A lot. I always have something close to hand that I'm reading. It might be an historical work (right now it's Neptune's Inferno) or it might be a work of fiction. I tend to go with military stuff, loved Tom Clancy's work, with the possible exception of some of his last efforts, and have always been a huge fan of Stephen Coonts. (Hhmm, Naval Aviator, spins a great yarn, what's not to like?) There are others, the late Vince Flynn springs to mind and Lee Child is also a favorite. (I'll let you Google those thine own self, there comes a point on a Friday, after a long week, where the seeking and implantation of links becomes tiresome. Nah, I'm just lazy...)

One category I have not spoken much of is science fiction. That particular genre is an entire universe, all to itself, at least amongst the devotees of that sort of thing. (Hugo Awards? Sad puppies? While I know of such things, there is enough drama in this existence without adding to it. Just so you all know that I'm not completely out of touch with modern times.)

As a lad I did read quite a bit of science fiction. After all, it was a time when we as a species were first breaking the surly bonds of gravity and venturing into space. Sputnik, Mercury, Gemini, Apollo, Soyuz were all names familiar to folks of my ilk. That is, semi-geeky, college bound, well read (sort of) boys. I'm sure there were girls also very interested in such things but back then, well, girls were icky. (One of the first steps on the road to manhood is the realization that girls are most definitely not icky, and are actually far more interesting than any book.)

Anyhoo. Dune (all six original volumes, I understand that Frank Herbert's son has written more in collaboration with another author), Starship Troopers, Stranger In a Strange Land, almost anything by Heinlein for that matter, and the odd bits of Isaac Azimov here and there (The Foundation Trilogy was a favorite as I recall) all came over the transom at one time or another in the idle days of my youth.

Then long years passed before I read any science fiction. But sometime back when I was in the Air Force, I read three of those four books featured in the opening graphic. The only one missing was The Gripping Hand which, had I known of its existence, would have been read long ago. I only recently (in the last five years) found a (free!) copy of it. Saw the Niven/Pournelle names and picked it up for a glance. The whole "Sequel to The Mote in God's Eye" thing rang a few old dusty bells way in the back of my brain box, so I took it home and commenced to reading it. Many old memories were awakened and I enjoyed it immensely.

I've read a couple of Orson Scott Card's books fairly recently, Ender's Game and Speaker for the Dead and fully intend to acquire the rest of the books in that series. So while I'm not a screaming science fiction fanatic, there are certain authors I enjoy. Those four up top? Definitely my favorites. As a matter of fact, I just might need to re-read those this summer.

Just so you know, I do like a little science fiction from time to time, it's not all history and techno-thrillers at Chez Sarge. Why, I'll even read the odd Russian novel from time to time. (Then ask myself, "Why, why did I do that?")

On the gripping hand, there are so many books I want to read, I doubt I'll have the time to read everything I want. 'Tis a nice dilemma. Though these choices are all desirable.

It's off to the library! Быстро! Быстро

- I say "library" as I have been chastised by The Missus Herself lately as to the large number of books in the domicile and "where do you think you're going to put that?" is a frequent lament. So the library must become my friend. It's cheaper than buying and ya know what, they'll store the books for you! Wow. Don't suggest Kindle or Nook. I do have one of those but it's for traveling. Electronic reading devices are nice but I like the heft of a book and the aroma of ink on paper. Why eat astronaut food when you can have the real thing? Or something. Call me old school.



No, this is not an April Fools post, I was born in May...