Running on Empty

 Just as an FYI, this post, like most of my posts, is written on Sunday.  Sunday, June 6, 2021, as Sarge pointed out, is a momentous day in history.  The 77th anniversary of D-Day, and as he noted, the Battle of Midway was fought this week 79 years ago.  Most importantly, Sarge's Dad was born 93 years ago.  Had that last not happened.....Well, let's just say I most likely wouldn't be posting on this blog.  Additionally, if an additional event hadn't happened on this day, oh say, 66 years ago, I most definitely wouldn't be posting on this blog.

Just sayin'.

So....ON with the post!

It's been an extremely busy couple of weeks at Rancho Juvat.  Mrs J and I made our pilgrimage to Palo Duro Canyon as scheduled May 25-27.  We thought it was fabulous (YMMV).  For those who haven't been there, you make your way to Canyon, Tx, then head east on a Ranch Road for about 10 miles.  There is no indication there is a very large canyon in the area until you are within a mile,  then the horizon drops and the canyon is revealed.  

Absolutely beautiful.

Did a lot of hiking with the dogs.  Came back from the first one (2.2 miles), got back to the RV.  Dogs got in, laid down and crashed for a nap.  I decided they were wise and besides "VACAY!" so I joined them.  

Evening was even more spectacular.

The only downside to the trip was the drive to and from.  We had rented the RV from Boerne (20 mi NW of San Antonio). drove it up to the Park.  Rented a car in Lubbock, so we didn't have to unhook and re-hook the RV if we went somewhere.   Unfortunately, in the original Latin, RV stands for Extra Large Sailing Yacht.  

Suffice it to say, crosswinds were....Challenging, and, as anyone who has spent any time on the Llano Estacado knows firsthand...Always Present.

Next time, we'll rent the RV near the destination and rent a car near home base.  Far less excitement that way.

Speaking of excitement, last Friday, I'm coming home from town and pass my Sister headed into town. Get home and Mrs J reminds me she has a hair appointment, so she commandeers the truck.  Shortly thereafter, I get a text from her saying there's been a multicar accident on Dead Man's Curve and traffic was stopped. A while later I get a call from her.  She's upset.  

"I think it's your sister."

Well...Those words will just about stop time itself. She tells me they've taken the drivers to the ER and described one as a heavy set female, short dark hair and wearing a red shirt.  Fits my sister to a T.  Besides, one of the cars in the accident is a silver Ford Escape which is what she drives. I ring up DIL and ask for a ride to the ER.

It's kinda quiet in the car.

Get to the ER and things are pretty hectic, and the admin person says they don't have a current admittance with our last name, but they haven't ID'd all the drivers yet. So, I have DIL drive me to the local HEB where my sister works.  No sooner do I walk in the front door than I see her walking out of the office.

Thank you Lord!

But, it ain't over til it's over.  Tuesday, I had Carpal Tunnel surgery on my left hand.  I was told everything went well, although I don't see the Doctor again until the 16th and have to wear the bandage until then.  

I'm right handed, so I thought it wouldn't be too bad in recovery if I went left first.  It's amazing how much I use my non-dominant hand.  Or try to.  But, it's getting better and I can actually grab light things.  I've worked my way all the way up to an empty beer can.  So...Progress!  

The incision is still a little stingy and I can't open the driver side door to my truck with the hand, but other than that, it's not too bad.  

MBD and SIL have scheduled their move for the latter half of the month.  I've been told I've got a supervisory role only in the loading of the truck.  It's Houston, in the summer.  Supervisory roles are just fine with me.  Perhaps I'll have worked my way up to a full beer can by then,  One can only hope.

I just noticed the dogs are starting to curl up on the bed.  Think I'll join them.  I've been told naps are restorative.  Who am I to argue?

Peace out, y'all!

The Fate of Empires

Douglas SBD-3 Dauntless dive bombers of VS-8 from USS Hornet about to attack the burning Japanese cruiser Mikuma for the third time on 6 June 1942.

Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku said, "I shall run wild considerably for the first six months or a year, but I have utterly no confidence for the second and third years."

Nearly six months to the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the four fleet carriers of the Kido Butai¹ (機動部隊) would go to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. This same force had spearheaded the attack on Pearl, now it was crippled and, truth be told, would be virtually toothless for the remainder of the war.

The Battle of Midway, which took place from the 4th to the 7th of June in 1942, was a critical turning point in the Pacific War. Much hard fighting lay ahead, thousands more would perish before the Japanese Emperor commanded his forces to stand down in the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Yet most people in the United States barely remember that battle, instead they remember (if they remember anything at all about our history, Lord knows it isn't taught very well anymore) the Normandy Invasion of June 1944, D-Day, the 6th of June.

Assault troops in a landing craft approach Omaha Beach on D-Day. Normandy, France, June 6, 1944.

Midway turned the tide of the Pacific War, until then the war had been a string of Japanese victories, that string ended at Midway.

D-Day on the other hand was the first step in landing significant forces on the European mainland with a fairly clear path to the heartland of Nazi Germany.

Though Allied forces had been fighting on the continent since the Allied landings at Salerno in Italy on the 9th of September 1943, a cursory glance at a good map of Italy reveals that the defenders have many advantages.

Rugged terrain, a narrow peninsula, multiple river lines, getting to Germany via Italy can be categorized as an extremely bad idea. At the northern end of Italy there's also the Alps to get over. Sir Winston Churchill might have been a brilliant politician and an inspiring figure, but he was no strategist, Gallipoli and Salerno proved that.

If the truth be told, the British feared an invasion of France, their reserve of men of fighting age was weakened to the point that they had to be very mindful of casualties. They believed that the raid on Dieppe in August of 1942 proved that any landing on the coast of France might prove to be a complete disaster.

Dieppe's chert beach and cliff immediately following the raid on 19 August 1942. A Dingo Scout Car has been abandoned.

Events on Omaha Beach nearly proved them right, had it not been for the bravery of the men on the ground and various leaders taking the initiative² it could have been another Dieppe. Omar Bradley was at the point of recalling the landing force at one point.

Midway led to the United States Navy being the dominant force in the Pacific, not the Imperial Japanese Navy. Without seapower and the victory at Midway, the Pacific might have become a Japanese lake. A place we could cross only by their forbearance.

D-Day led to the Western Allies liberating all of Western Europe. A loss on the beaches of Normandy wouldn't necessarily have prevented the defeat of Nazi Germany. The Soviet Union might have continued on and the Red Army might have wound up on the English Channel. The agony of Eastern Europe would have been suffered in the west as well.

Like the aftermath of Midway, much hard fighting lay ahead for the Allies after D-Day. The events leading to the eventual capitulation of the Nazis on the 8th of May 1945 were kicked off as soon as the first paratroopers came down in Normandy.

Both events were important to the history of the world, both should be remembered. But most of all, the people who gave their lives to seal those victories must never be forgotten.

Midway sealed the doom of the Japanese Empire. Normandy hastened the fall of the Nazi Third Reich and prevented the Communist domination of all of Europe.

We forget the lessons of history at our peril.

¹ Literally the Mobile Unit or Force, not an official designation but one of convenience. It designated the six aircraft carriers which carried the 1st Air Fleet.

² Major General Norman Cota and Brigadier General Teddy Roosevelt Jr. immediately spring to mind.

Sarge Note: I would also like to mention that the 6th of June 1944 was my father's 16th birthday. He would have been 93 today. Miss you Dad.

A Silence on the River

(Source)

Alain and Jacques Gaudry, with their Abenaki companion Little Wolf, paddled silently up the Great River. They had come across an Abenaki village, a destroyed Abenaki village. The brothers had wanted to continue up river, but Little Wolf convinced them to land so he could investigate what had happened.

"My sachem will be interested in knowing who it is who comes into our lands, kills our people, and destroys our villages. I do not think the Anglais did this, more likely it was the Mohican, they seek to take our hunting grounds and our fields."

As the two brothers and the Abenaki warrior hauled the canoe ashore, Little Wolf gestured for them to wait at the river's edge, he would signal if things looked safe. He then disappeared up the river bank, moving quickly and quietly.

Moments later he signaled to the brothers that there was no danger at the moment and they should join him. Both brothers checked that their muskets were ready to fire.

When they climbed the bank they were appalled. The ruins of the tribe's longhouses still smoldered, the bodies of the dead were everywhere, neither man had ever seen anything quite like it.

"Les Anglais?" Jacques asked Little Wolf.

"No, Mohican," he gestured to an arrow jutting from the back of a young woman, "that is one of their arrows. They killed everyone, even the dogs."

Alain noticed that Little Wolf's eyes glittered, the man was struggling to control himself. While these people were a distant branch of the far flung Abenaki Confederation, they were still his people. Seeing them like this must have hurt.

"Why do people do such things?" Jacques, more open with his emotions, had tears streaming down his face. He and Little Wolf had become fast friends, what touched Little Wolf touched Jacques as well. Which, of course, extended to Alain, who cared for his younger brother deeply.

"When men take the warpath, they leave their humanity behind, not to be taken up again until they return to their families. My father told me of such things, this is the first I have seen this. I will not forget. Come my brothers, we must go."

Quickly the three men returned to the canoe and continued up river. Each man was lost in his own thoughts and no one spoke to break the silence. Only the lapping of the water against their canoe made any sound.

One of the men came rushing down from the platform on the southern wall of the stockade. The view down the river from that platform extended for at least a half a mile. Sergeant Josiah Adams made sure that men manned each of the four platforms at all hours of the day. So far they had seen no more sign of the Indian who had killed Ensign Mayberry.

"Sarn't Adams! Sarn't Adams!" Private Jonathan Walker yelled as he ran to the sergeant's quarters.

Sergeant Adams stepped out of the one room set aside for the sergeant of the post, pulling on his coat as he did so. "Damme Walker, what is all this noise about?"

"Sarn't! There's a column coming this way, red coats, look like proper soldiers they do! It's the rest of the company I daresay!"

Adams followed Walker back to the southward facing platform, his spyglass in hand. When he had mounted the ladder and brought the glass to his eye, he could see them. It was the remainder of the company. At last!

Captain Samuel Jenkins had spied the small fort as soon as they had cleared yet another bend in the river. In the late afternoon light he saw it atop a small rise. It was a welcome sight. He was wondering if the place was still occupied, he had begun to wonder if any Englishmen still lived this far west.

"Sarn't Major!"

"Sir!"

"Have the men look alive there! We're almost at the stockade, I don't want anyone to let their guard down. Who knows if the savages are in the area or not. Smartly lads, smartly!"

Sergeant Major Edward Jacobs had the men see to their firelocks. "Make ready lads, look alive now! We're almost there!"

Sergeant Adams turned to Private Walker, "Go to my quarters lad and fetch the colors, let's run them up so that the column knows we're still at our posts!"

"Right away Sarn't!" Walker said as he scrambled down the ladder.

Corporal Alan Barnes stepped out of the guard house and asked what the Hell was going on when he saw Walker raising the colors.

"The rest of the company Corp! They're comin' up the river. Sarn't Adams said to raise the colors!"

Barnes nodded and immediately had the men fall in, "Come on lads! The Captain and the rest of the boys are coming up the river! Let's welcome them in proper style!"

Jenkins felt a thrill when he saw the King's Colors break out atop the flag pole inside the stockade. It was then that he also noticed men in red coats near the top of the walls. So the garrison in this forsaken place still lived.

As they got within musket shot of the fort, the gates swung open and five men came out. Jenkins thought it rather odd that the sergeant of the place, Adams he remembered, should be greeting him and not Ensign Charles Mayberry. Perhaps the Ensign was out on a patrol or something.

"Sir! Welcome to..." Sergeant Adams began.

"Right! Adams isn't it? Where is your officer?"

"Sir, yessir, Sarn't Adams Sir, that's me. Uh, the Ensign is dead, Sir. Murdered by the savages, Sir."

Jenkins felt his spirits drop, murdered? Charles Mayberry dead?

"Let's get the company inside, shall we Sarn't Major? Adams, you're with me. Tell me everything which has passed since you first came to this place."

Captain Samuel Jenkins stood atop the west-facing platform and watched as the sun set on the other side of the Cannitticutt. From what Adams had told him, Mayberry had acted completely outside of his authority in destroying that Indian village. And what sort of idiot would think a war party would be encamped in the open within a half day's march of the fort?

"Damn fool killed himself!" Jenkins muttered aloud.

"What's that Sir?" Sergeant Major Jacobs asked as he climbed up the ladder to the platform.

"Nothing Sarn't Major, but I'm afraid we've arrived just in time to fight a war."

"Seems to me, Sir, that we've been in a war since we left Rumford. Not like the wars I saw in Europe mind you, but a nasty little war where even the civilians are fair game it seems."

"Quite. You go get some sleep Sarn't Major, I don't think I've seen you put your head down in days." Jenkins was also tired, but he relied on Jacobs more than he cared to admit, and the man looked ready to drop.

"No more than you Sir, but if you insist, I'll go put my head down for a bit. I'll see to the lads first, make sure everyone knows their duties and the like." Lifting his hat, Jacobs started back down the ladder, he paused as he did so.

"Mind you Sir, I'll send up one of the more experienced lads to this position. Seems the King didn't commission you to stand sentry duty, begging your pardon and all."

"Very good Sarn't Major, I appreciate that."

As the sun winked out over the mountains to the west, Jenkins scanned the area, he saw something to the north which gave him a start. Campfires starting, not all that far off.

On his side of the river.

Seems they might have company in the morning. He doubted sincerely that he would sleep at all that night. But he would let Jacobs sleep, it was the least he could do for the man.

After all, his services would no doubt be sorely needed on the morrow.

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

Rescued

(Source)

The column had halted for some reason and Captain Samuel Jenkins was moving to the head of the column to find out why. They had sighted the river two days ago, then he had assumed that they were a day's march away. At the end of the first day after the sighting, they had yet to reach the river. Now on this, the second day, he expected to arrive beside the waters of the Cannitticutt at any moment.

They seemingly had not.

"Sergeant Major! What seems to be the holdup?" Jenkins called to his sergeant major as he approached the head of the column.

"You need to see this Sir." Sergeant Major Edward Jacobs was walking back to find the company commander just as Jenkins had called out. 

Jenkins and Jacobs made their way to the head of the column, the captain saw what the sergeant major was talking about, it was a river.

"Can't be the Cannitticutt, it's too bloody narrow. Wide enough to keep us from crossing but not wide enough to be the Cannitticutt. Damme!" Jenkins pulled his map out, it was blank in many areas, very rudimentary, but it didn't show any tributaries of the Cannitticutt in the vicinity of where he thought they were.

"What now Sir? It's getting late. This area is defensible, even though we'd have our backs to the river. Best thing is, they can't get at us from behind." Jacobs asked his commander.

"Right Sarn't Major, see to it, I'll have a look around. You there, you two men, come with me!" He said as he pointed to the nearest two privates. "Your firelocks are loaded, yes?"

"Course Sir, I wouldn't be out here with an empty piece, no Sir. Are we going to have a look see up the river, past this island?" The older of the two men was named Rutland and he had asked the captain the question.

"Island?" Jenkins asked, one eyebrow cocked.

"Certainly Sir, see through those trees on the left, there's the main channel of the river. This is the Cannitticutt is it not Sir?" Rutland pointed and Jenkins looked in that direction. Now he saw it, there was water on the other side.

"Well done, what's yer name lad?"

"Rutland Sir, Edward Rutland."

"Well Rutland, nicely done, very observant of you. Thank you lad, return to the ranks. Sarn't Major!"

"Sir?" Jacobs came over and shook his head in disbelief when the Captain pointed out that this was a channel, there was an island, and to the westward of that was the great river itself. "Well damme, I should have seen that meself, sorry Sir. I'll be more observant next time."

"Not to worry Sarn't Major, I didn't see it either. We'll camp here and press on northwards in the morning."

Short Bear realized too late his peril, it was only through instinct and quick reflexes that he was able to conceal himself in the underbrush. But the girl, Ma-LEE, though used to hard work, was exhausted from their trek. She was unused to sleeping in the open and moving as long as it was light and all that on a diet of pemmican and whatever berries Short Bear had found.

As Short Bear turned to warn her, he knew it was too late. One of the Mohicans, for he was sure they were warriors from that Confederacy, raised a shout when he spotted the yellow-haired girl. Short Bear was certain that Ma-LEE would be killed on the spot.

Will Jefferson turned when he heard Lazy Fox shout out. What he saw amazed him, a white woman with yellow hair, her clothing ripped and torn, just standing there. She screamed, "Oh dear God!" when she saw a warrior striding towards her, reaching for his knife.

"Hold Standing Wolf! She is English!" Jefferson called to the warrior in Mohican.

Standing Wolf stopped and turned to Jefferson, "You know this woman, Blue Eyes?" Which is what the Mohican called him.

"No, but she is of my tribe, of my nation."

Molly Henderson reckoned herself to be a dead woman, she had cried out in anguish when the warrior had spotted her. Then there was an exchange between two men in a language which seemed vaguely familiar. (Molly did not know that the language of the Mohican was in the same family of languages as Abenaki, some words of which she had learned from the man she knew as Awasosis¹.)

Then she realized that one of the men speaking was white, oh no, what if he was French? She felt she was doomed. She fell to her knees and sighed aloud, then she shouted, "Please spare me!"

"We mean you no harm, dear girl. Please stand up, how do you come to be in this wilderness by yourself?" Jefferson saw the look of relief on the girl's face.

"You, you... you're English?"

"Yes dear, I'm an officer in the British Army. How did you come to be here?"

"I was captured in a raid on my town, which is, I'm sorry, was near the Cannitticutt. Though whether north or south I do not know. My captor and I crossed the river by floating on a log two days ago. I don't know what he intended to do with me, or to me."

Jefferson turned to Standing Wolf, "A raid on an English village, near the Great River, do our scouts know of this?"

"Yes, we know of this. It is the same Abenaki war party we have been tracking I think."

Jefferson turned back to Molly, "Where is your captor now, girl?"

"In truth Sir, I do not know. He must be near, I was following him when you spotted me."

"Standing Wolf, search the brush, there must be an Abenaki warrior nearby!"

Before the Mohican could move, they all heard Short Bear's piercing war cry as he leapt from the underbrush and struck down Lazy Fox with a tomahawk. In a flash, the Abenaki was off running, back into the woods. Standing Wolf started to pursue but Jefferson stopped him.

"Blue Eyes, he will escape!"

"We are on the path of a war party, not a single man. We let him go for now. We must continue on this trail." Jefferson told the tall Mohican.

"Very well Blue Eyes, you are wise. It is better to find and destroy the main threat, the little threat can wait. Though I doubt Lazy Fox's woman and child will appreciate that." Standing Wolf looked over at the corpse of Lazy Fox. No, his woman and child would wail when they heard of their man's death.

Jefferson looked back at the woman, "Can you travel girl?"

"Yes, I believe so. It's all I've been doing for days now, do you have any food, English food?"

Jefferson reached into his haversack and unwrapped a heel of bread, "This is all I have, other than pemmican. Do you know of pemmican?"

"Lord yes, it is all I've eaten since I was taken. But if it's all you have?"

Standing Wolf cleared his throat and looked at the English officer.

"Yes my friend, we must be moving," Jefferson said in Mohican. He then handed the bread to the girl, and the party began to move.

Molly was happy to have been rescued, she was also, surprisingly, happy that Awasosis had gotten away. He had not treated her badly.

He could have killed her, or worse, but he had actually seen to her welfare. She could almost admire the man.

Almost.

The Mohicans and their English companion were moving, and not slowly. Molly sighed, hitched up her skirts and began to follow. She wasn't quite out of danger yet.

¹ Short Bear's name in Abenaki.

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

Little Hawk's Revenge

(Source)

Ensign Charles Mayberry was beginning to wonder if the Governor had forgotten his small  detachment. It had been weeks since he had heard anything from Portsmouth. When his detachment had left, he had been under the impression that the rest of the company would be marching out to join them once the new men completed their training.

That had been months ago.

Since then the small settlement to their north had been destroyed by an Abenaki war party, his detachment had been attacked by that same war party, and he had taken his detachment south to destroy the nearest Indian village.

That the village his men destroyed had had nothing to do with the war party which had destroyed the settlement and had attacked his outpost didn't concern the young Ensign, to him all savages were alike. Even the ones allied to the Crown.

Little Hawk had been living near the small fort ever since his village had been destroyed by the soldiers. He caught periodic glimpses of the man with the fancy red coat who had killed his older brother with a long knife. He hungered for that man's scalp.

He had been haunting the forests near the fort, watching and waiting. All of the other survivors, women and children mostly, had fled the area, they had sought refuge at other Abenaki villages. Only Little Hawk remained behind. Before the day his village had died, he and his people had lived in peace with the English settlers. No more.

He was waiting for his moment to strike down the man in the fancy red coat and take his hair. The man was arrogant and often moved beyond the protection of his soldiers. Now that he had discerned the pattern of the man's daily activities, he was ready to strike.

"Adams!" Mayberry yelled for his sergeant.

"Sir!"

"Run back to the stockade and fetch my pistols, I think I'll do some shooting today."

"But Sir..." Sergeant Josiah Adams began to remonstrate with his officer.

"Now Sergeant, don't try my patience."

"Sir!"

Adams began to walk the hundred or so yards back to the stockade, as he did so, he looked around, wanting to make sure there were no Indians in the vicinity. Some of the sentries claimed to have seen a native boy in the area, he seemed to be watching the fort both day and night. He had been concerned, then he relaxed, the Ensign did have his sword, which he was very good with. After all, what danger would be posed by a mere boy?

Little Hawk shadowed the man in the fancy red coat, when the other man left and returned to the stockade, Little Hawk decided to make his move. Fancy Coat, as Little Hawk called him, was moving down to the river. The man seemed to have not a care in the world. He probably felt that he'd solved his Indian problem by destroying Little Hawk's village. How little he knew.

Mayberry was watching the sunlight reflecting off the waters of the river. It was a very lovely day he thought, he had made plans to settle here in this area when his time with the New Hampshire militia was over. Once he and his soldiers had pacified the natives, he thought. If the village they had destroyed was any indication, he didn't foresee a problem with that.

"Bloody savages are good against defenseless civilians I suppose, no match for a properly trained soldier though," he mused aloud.

Mayberry watched the water for a bit longer then he heard something behind him. Thinking that his sergeant was returning he turned and said, "About bloody time Adams, what did you do, crawl back from the fort?"

He was confused when he didn't see the sergeant, even more confused when he heard a hissing sound. In the very next instant Mayberry was doubled over with an arrow embedded in his belly. The pain was immense.

As he dropped to one knee, desperately fighting the pain, he saw a figure rushing towards him. An Indian youth, his chest painted red, his face painted black, his tomahawk raised in the air, and the most menacing scowl one could imagine on his painted face.

Mayberry felt no fear, just a deep sense of confusion. He was being attacked by a boy!

Sergeant Josiah Adams was some time in returning from the fort, two of the men had gotten into a fight, one badly injuring the other. He had had to discipline the corporal on duty, remand the uninjured man to confinement, and see to the injured man's treatment. No doubt Ensign Mayberry would give him Hell for the delay, but what else could he do?

As he walked out to the river bank he saw no sign of the ensign. He began to get nervous, he sensed something was wrong. Experience on a dozen battlefields in Europe had developed his instincts to the point where he could almost feel danger as a physical presence. He sensed that now.

He ran back to the stockade and gathered a party of men, all fully armed. Detailing the corporal of the watch to have all of the men fall in and to close the gate behind him, he led the party out of the stockade. The men marched in line, firelocks at the ready.

Little Hawk watched from a distance as the soldiers marched from the fort. The way they moved fascinated him, they moved nearly as one, each man an image of the one next to him. They dressed the same, they held their firesticks the same way, they even moved in step.

What an odd way to fight, Little Hawk thought as he disappeared into the forest, proudly wearing the fancy red coat of the man he had killed, the man's long knife carried in one hand, the man's scalp attached to his belt, still dripping blood.

Little Hawk knew, that even though he was a boy of only thirteen winters, he would now be seen by his people as a warrior.

It felt good.

"Sweet Jesus..." Adams muttered when they found the ensign's body. The man was splayed out next to the river, scalped, an arrow protruding from his lower belly, a deep wound in his head discernable even though the scalp was gone and the head was a bloody mess. Mayberry's coat and sword were nowhere to be found, Adams had to assume that the boy lurking near the fort had done this, or he had led someone else here to do the deed.

No matter how it had happened, Sergeant Josiah Adams realized that he now commanded the small garrison. He also realized that they were now isolated in this position, there was no way to send a messenger through the wilderness back to Portsmouth. A single man would never make it alive, in fact, even if everyone in the fort went, they would still probably be overwhelmed in the forests by the natives.

All they could do was wait, keep the gate closed and half the men, or more, on watch at all times. They were alone and in grave danger.

He would wait and, though he'd never been a religious man, he would pray.

Pray for deliverance.

Link to all of the Chant's fiction.

Long Drive, But...

It's good to be home!

Traffic was nowhere near as bad on Tuesday as it was on Thursday.

Now, I'm off to bed. (Wrote this Tuesday night mind you.)

See you on the flip side!

Travel Day...

(Source)

The visit to the shores of Chesapeake Bay is complete, time to return to the shores of Narragansett Bay. 'Twas a long drive down, no doubt it will be a long drive back.

Holiday traffic.

Sigh...

Stay well, see you soon.