TGIFF…

You can guess what the ‘other’ F is…

Three days of therapy on my back this week about knocked me out…

I need a few days off to recover, or at least try to!

Anyhoo, it was my turn to cook, and since “somebody” is joining the ranks of authorship, and it’d been a while since we had steaks…

Dinner 1

And the baked potato recipe came from HERE. Brigid makes a ‘passing’ mention of the garlic cloves being hot, believe me they are @@$&*&#% HOT!!! Burned my damn fingers, but everyone loved the potatoes!

Now I’m off to try to sleep off this meal… Y’all have a great weekend!

 

TBT…

Detachments…

Better known as “Dets” always were, and still are the bane of an aircrew’s existence, or a welcomed break depending on what was going on where…

If you were a straight stick crew, you might get one or two dets a year. If you were a ‘projects’ det, you might get one or two a MONTH…

And of course they weren’t usually to the ‘fun’ places, unless you had a pretty twisted version of fun…

Midway, Kwajalein, Adak, Kodiak, Eielson, Misawa, Keflavik, Kinloss, Stavanger, Thule, Lajes, Rota, Roosy Roads, etc…

Two days, two weeks, maybe a month, depending on what or ‘who’ we might be chasing.

One of the constants was always the maintenance crew that went out with us. Five or six sailors with enough cross training to fix pretty much anything on the airplane. They did the servicing, maintenance, required inspections, or anything else that came up.

VP-24 maint det

Without them, none of the dets would ever have succeeded…

But there were times when other folks stepped up and played a major part in those successes…

One det comes to mind- In the late 80’s we needed to take two West Coast P-3s to Iceland to support some testing. Simple, right?

Not so much. In addition to the seven hour time difference, there was a ‘flap’ in process when we started setting up the short notice det. So billeting had to be arranged, and fuel, and parking spots (critical issue), and working spaces in the operations center (critical issue), and the right comms codes (critical issue).

Rooms were located out in town (ouch, per diem cost just went through the roof), overflow parking was arranged (out in east bumf**k),  but no joy with comms or workspaces…

I walked into our secretary’s office grumbling about the problems I was having, and Barb said words to the effect of, “What’s got your tit in a wringer?” (She was married to a gunner’s mate, so she could out cuss most sailors). I explained the dead ends I’d run into, and headed off to the afternoon staff meeting.

The next morning I stagger in about 0600, planning on continuing to try to get things sorted. I walk into the break room to make coffee, and there is already a fresh pot! 🙂

So I grab a cup and head to my office, only to hear Barb call me. I stop, go back to her office, and she hands me two Navy messages and a page of notes. It’s authorization to draw comms from NAS Brunswick enroute, and the other message assigns us a space in the operations center.

As I read through the notes, I see she has provided phone numbers, points of contact that are current, and some other information. I look at her with a stunned expression and ask, “How?”

I’ll never forget how she patted her Rolodex (which was a BIG one), and said, “Never underestimate the power of the secretary.”

She had simply called the Admiral’s secretary in Kef, then the Admiral’s secretary in Maine and they worked the secretary’s network in less than an hour to get us everything I’d been working on for five days.  Sigh…

After than, I just took stuff to Barb, and asked her to ‘fix’ it. But I also made sure to:

a. NEVER piss her off.

b. Always bring her some kind of souvenir from the det.

c. Always try to answer any questions she brought to me as quickly as I could.

d. Gave her (and her replacement) good chocolates every Christmas.

Good times… Sigh…

Oh yeah, and everything worked like a champ on the det, EXCEPT the system we were testing… What a PITA!!!

Posted in TBT

Wordless Wednesday…

Grrr… Apparently my Wordless Wednesday also turned into a postless Wednesday…

Sorry!!!FUll moon

Hillary

Oops…

It appears I have been remiss, as an email pointed out I have not posted any pictures of the new grandbaby.

Without further ado, let me present Kaya Jean at three weeks…

image

And once… Just once, all three of the grandkids were asleep at the same time during the day…

image

Khalil, now 17 and 6’2″, Kaya, and Jace.

And Vito was asleep on the floor next to them.

PP is doing well, all things considered and recovering slowly.

Little things…

{1} Once all villagers decided to pray for rain, on the day of prayer all the people gathered, but only one boy came with an umbrella.

That’s FAITH

{2} When you throw a baby in the air, she laughs because she knows you will catch her.

That’s TRUST

{3} Every night we go to bed, without any assurance of being alive the next morning but still we set the alarms to wake up.

That’s HOPE

{4} We plan big things for tomorrow in spite of zero knowledge of the future.

That’s CONFIDENCE

{5} We see the world suffering, but still we get married and have children.

That’s LOVE

{6} On an old man’s shirt was written a sentence ‘I am not 91 years old … I am sweet 16 with 75 years’ experience.

That’s ATTITUDE

Have a good week and live your life like the six tiny stories !

h/t Frito

Aviation Art…

26

This image reflects the unique nose art of one of the B-24’s in the Zodiac Squadron. The original nose art was painted by Phil S. Brinkman while he was assigned to the Army Air Force Station 174 in Sudbury, England. Brinkman joined the Army Air Corps in the summer of 1942. He was assigned to Special Services, when he entered the army, since he was an accomplished commercial artist at the time.

Shortly after he arrived at Davis-Monthan Airbase in Tucson, Arizona, he completed a large mural which attracted attention and was seen by the commander of the 834th Bomb Squadron, Captain “Jip” Howell, who set up a transfer to bring Brinkman into the 834th.

The idea of adorning the B-24’s of Capt. Howell’s with unique nose art resulted in the famous “Zodiac Bombers” including “Leo.“ In the spring of 1944, the 486th Bomb Group, comprised of the 832nd, 833rd, 834th and the 835th Bomb Squadrons was sent to England.

Wow…

This is some incredible footage of the shuttle launch from a ‘different’ camera angle…

Onboard the booster rockets themselves!!! HD even!

You can read more details of the video HERE.

h/t Jimmy

The Grey Man- Partners…

Is almost done, in final edit now, and awaiting a couple of beta readers comments; expect to have it out next month…

This is a first cut on the cover, not finalized so expect some changes. Total is a little over 400 pages, so not by choice the price will go up by about a dollar on the print version.

Partners3

One last tease for y’all- This is the TD:DR version… 🙂

Epilog

Thanksgiving had turned out to be surprisingly warm, so they’d set up tables in the back yard. Gathered round the tables were Aaron, Jesse and Jace, Matt and Felicia, Clay and Ronni Boone, Eddie and Iris Guilfoile, Jose and Beverly Rodriquez, Billy Moore and the old man at the head of the table.

Jose asked, “So, Matt, how are you liking our little town and working for the old grouch down there?”

Laughter followed the question, as Matt took a sip of coffee, “Well, he hasn’t run me off yet, nor shot me, Sheriff. So I’m thinking that’s pretty good.” Reaching over and hugging Felicia, “And with Felicia’s family here, she’s happy too. I guess it doesn’t get any better than that.”

Beverly looked at Felicia and Iris, then asked, “Aren’t you both due?”

Felicia sighed, “Actually I’m due today. But the doctor says he’ll wait a week, if I don’t have the baby by then, he’s going to induce. Angelina checks on me every morning, and drives me nuts!”

Iris blushed, “I’m due next month. I just hope we have the baby before Christmas, or at least before New Year’s.”

Billy chimed in, “Tax break! Yep, you need to have it before the end of the year. If worst comes to worst Eddie, find the roughest road you can and…”

Laughter erupted around the table at that, and Iris blushed even redder as Jesse took a swipe at Billy. Eddie reached down and picked up a bag and handed it across to Aaron diffidently, “I been thinkin’ about your problem Aaron, and I come up with this bike thingie. I think it might work.”

Aaron opened the bag and pulled out a stirrup with a strange looking plate bolted to the stirrup. Looking at it, he cocked his head, “How would this work Eddie?”

Eddie said, “It’s one of those clamp thingies all them bike racers use to keep their feet on the, the pedals. I was thinkin’ if you wore one of them shoes like they do, you could clamp it in and it would stabilize the leg and foot. And you would be able to mount from the correct side.”

Matt looked at it, “Yeah, you slip the shoe in and press down, and it locks in. And if you needed to get out of the stirrup, all you’d have to do is twist the foot to release it. And I think they come loose if you fall too.”

Matt passed it to Clay and Ronni who looked at it curiously, and passed it on to the Sheriff and his wife. Clay commented, “You should look at patenting that Eddie, or something like it. That would be one helluva idea for those folks that want to ride but don’t because of prosthetics issues.”

Billy got it and said, “Nah, it’s not patentable, since the clamp is already patented, but it’s a damn good idea, and I’d get it out to all the veteran’s organizations for their therapy folks.”

Jose asked, “How’s the class going Aaron?”

Aaron shook his head, “The book stuff isn’t too bad, and the PT is no problem. The issue is being away from Jesse and Jace.” Giving Jesse a quick hug, he said, “With Billy letting me stay there, and getting the occasional weekend off, I can at least get back here a couple of times a month. And Billy is teaching me the ins and outs of the Texas code, which will be a big help when I finally take the tests for Peace Officer.”

Billy flipped his pigtail back and pronounced, “And I expect to never get another ticket in Pecos County for the rest of my life. That’s what I expect for putting up with Aaron.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, and everyone chuckled. The old man asked, “How is Momma Trần treating you?”

Aaron smiled as Billy laughed, “She’s convinced I’m not eating enough, or drinking enough tea, and she’s concerned about Jesse and the fact that I only see her once a month. Mother hen doesn’t begin to describe it!”

Billy chimed in, “She’s getting food delivered every day, and she’s making him breakfast at five in the morning. She won’t let him out the door until he eats.”

The old man nodded, “Yep, she’s adopted you. Maybe not officially, but you’re now a member of the family.”

Aaron asked curiously, “Is that good or bad?”

Billy and the old man chorused, “Good!” And the old man continued, “If she’s doing all that, it’s not because she has to, it’s because she wants to. Just don’t get her mad at you. She’s got a long reach!”

Clay asked, “Is she that connected? I’ve only met her that one time.”

Billy nodded, “She’s got connections into every Vietnamese business in Houston, and probably at least contacts in every Vietnamese enclave in the US. And no telling how much or how well connected she is back in Vietnam.”

Clay shook his head, “I didn’t realize she was that important, or that connected.”

Billy replied, “She’s managed to get a lot of folks out, and helped set them up in various parts of the US. I’m not sure how much money they got out with, but I’m betting she’s at least a millionaire, if not more.”

Aaron whistled, “I didn’t know any of that!”

Billy smiled, “You’re not supposed to. You’re supposed to think she’s a slightly dotty old lady, who doesn’t speak good ‘Engrish’ as she calls it, and tries ineffectively to boss her family around. She’d be horrified to know that I even know about it, much less that I’ve let anyone in on her secret.”

The old man turned to Eddie and asked, “Speaking of secrets, how are the colts doing? You’ve been staying pretty mum on them.”

Eddie ducked his head, “Good. I been working with Spots, and I’m going to bring him and Shadow back up here in the spring. They won’t be broke to the saddle and ready to ride, since they’re still yearlings, that’ll take another six months. But they will have ground training, I’ve been working on in-hand manners, longeing, trailer loading and good behavior for all grooming and health care stuff, like shoeing.”

Eddie spun his coffee cup, “I think Shadow will be better for Matt, since he’s going to be about seventeen hands, and Matt can train him on long-lining. Aaron would be better with Spots, since he’s going to be a bit smaller, and he’s more mellow than Shadow.”

Matt groaned, “Okay, one thing I’ve never done is horse training. Granted I can ride, after a fashion, and I can rope something if it stands still, but that’s about the limit.”

Felicia laid a hand on Matt’s arm, “You can, no, you will do it my husband.” Patting her bulging belly, she continued, “We have faith.” Another round of laughter followed that statement as Jesse went around the table pouring more coffee for those that wanted it.

Clay sipped his coffee and said, “Speaking of faith, or maybe fate, it’s been awfully quiet on the border the last month. Seems Los Zetas, LFM and Sinaloa are all battling over territory after an incident down in Chiapas with all of them blaming the others for losing a shipment of MANPADS and apparently some Muslim extremists that were supposed to be smuggled into the US.”

The old man met Aaron’s glance with a minute shake of the head, “That’s interesting Clay, where did you hear that?”

Clay set his cup down, “Well, originally from EPIC, but apparently Bucky had an agent down there paired with somebody that observed the incident.” Clay looked sharply at the old man, “Seems all that went down about the time you were on vacation.”

The old man held up his hands, “Wasn’t me! Hell, you know they didn’t believe me on the intel I passed. Aaron and I were sitting on the beach in Cozumel, drinking tequila and I was trying to get him up to speed on the ranch stuff.”

Clay looked at Aaron curiously, “Getting up to speed?”

Aaron nodded cautiously, “I was getting frustrated with trying to do things here, and I really didn’t understand not only the ranching side, but I really didn’t understand the oil royalty side.” Pointing at Billy he continued, “Mr. Moore is trying to beat it into my head, but it’s a slow process, and a lot of legalese. I’m a damn Jarhead, I don’t do legalese!”

Laughter erupted at that and the old man smiled, “It was a chance for us to talk about not only ranching, but about law enforcement. Aaron did understand that part, and it’s led him down that path.” Glancing at Clay he asked, “Are you really complaining?”

Clay shrugged, “Not really, it’s just that I get nervous when shit is going on that I can’t account for.”

Ronni chimed in, “I like the quiet though. Having Clay home every night is a blessing. Especially when it gets cold. He’s nice and warm.”

Clay blushed at that, and everyone laughed again. The old man stood saying, “A toast.” Everyone picked up a glass or cup and waited, “To partners. In love, in life, and in ranching.”

A chorus of, “Partners,” followed by the clinking of glasses and cups as everyone drank.

Sorry for the delay folks, but life intervened…

Cases dropped…

Baltimore prosecutors have dropped the cases against the remaining three officers in the death of Freddie Gray. Of course the mayor and State Attorney Mosby blame it on the police and ‘uncooperative’ police and a bad justice system…

Maybe she should have thought of that BEFORE she jumped out there with the protesters…

– The Washington Times – Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Prosecutors Wednesday morning dropped all remaining charges against three officers who were waiting to stand trial in connection with the death of Freddie Gray in Baltimore.

In motions ahead of the trial of Officer Garrett Miller, one of six officers charged in the Gray case, prosecutors announced the decision in the wake of three acquittals and growing pressure to cut their losses.

In an impassioned speech Wednesday at the site of Gray’s arrest Baltimore State’s Attorney Marilyn Mosby said she has no regrets in bringing charges against the six officers. While some trial watchers have said the state did not bring the evidence to prove its theory of Gray’s death — and city Judge Barry Williams agreed in acquitting three of the officers — Ms. Mosby blamed uncooperative police, the media and a broken justice system.

Full article HERE at Washington Times.

The better question is, has a SINGLE looter or rioter been arrested and prosecuted??? Of the original 200+ arrested, over half were released without charges in 48 hours…

An hour or so of digging and I came up with THREE people who were actually charged (by DOJ, not Baltimore State’s Attorney), HERE.

It’e enough to make you wonder where their priorities are, doesn’t it…

Truth…

However politically incorrect it may be…

The Greatest Disaster in U.S. Military History

By Ray Starmann

Operation You Go Girl is destined to fail; failure defined not as a NO GO, or an F, but as the nation’s young women flown home in flag draped Glad Bags when the nation loses the next war(s). When this happens, the Hollywood producers, the feminists and the cultural Marxists who were responsible for forcing the nation’s women to experience the horrors of ground combat will scratch their heads and wonder why reality is so much different from their imaginary ideas of women in combat.

Think about this: US defense policy is now being run on a fantasy propagated by Hollywood, feminists and cultural Marxists.

Hollywood created the fantasy of the rough and tough, hard charging female cop. On any given night, on any given network, you can watch an anorexic 95 pound model, turned NYPD detective brandish a pistol larger than her waist and proceed to karate chop and cuff and stuff a myriad of male heavyweight thugs with the imaginary aplomb of Chuck Norris on all night POW camp raid.

Goodbye Popeye Doyle…

Unfortunately, real war is much different than a Demi Moore movie. A battlefield is not gender neutral. On a battlefield the roughest, toughest sons of bitches win the fight. What remains of the losers are picked at by ravens or fade away like dust in the wind.

Unfortunately, the Pentagon, the White House and Congress are no longer living in reality.

Simply put, the authorization in December 2015 to allow women to serve in the combat arms (infantry, armor, cavalry, artillery) and special operations forces (SEALs, Green Berets, Rangers, Delta Force, Marine Raiders) of the US armed forces is the greatest disaster in US military history.

The defenders of this insanity will say that women have been in combat in Iraq and Afghanistan so what’s the big deal? Returning fire when your convoy is attacked or defending yourself during a military police security operation is different than being in a unit with the sole mission of killing the enemy and seizing and holding ground. It’s like comparing peddling a beach cruiser to racing in the Tour de France.

The social engineers will cry that the standards will remain the same. Horse dung and hay: the standards were already warped so that the three females could graduate from Ranger School. They had months of special training, nutritionists, endless chances to repeat the course, etc. Ninety-nine percent of the women in the world simply cannot meet the male physical standards of the combat arms and special operations units. No amount of estrogen charged You Go Girl battle cries, or Universal Studios light and magic shows can stop reality. Reality says a million times over that women simply don’t have the physical strength, aerobic lung capacity or aggressiveness to withstand life in the combat arms and special operations. They are also more prone to stress fractures and other injuries.

Has anyone in the Pentagon wondered why they’re authorizing women for ground combat duty, yet the PGA won’t allow women to play with Jordan Spieth and Dustin Johnson in any tournament. Why, because women don’t have the physical strength to hit a golf ball as far as men, that’s why.

So, the Masters is out for women, but the Green Berets are in. Are you kidding me?

Either there will be double standards or the standards will be made gender neutral and so weak that the fat ladies driving around Walmart in two horsepower electric carts will become Navy SEALs.

Another factor dooming Operation You Go Girl are the emotional issues surrounding young men and women living together in garrison and more importantly, in the field.

The military says that good leadership will put a damper on human sex drive. Newsflash social engineers, no amount of ROTC Leadership 101 is going to stop an 18 year old with an erection in a movement to contact with a 36-24-36 cheerleader, Private Babs Horny. Get a grip; the Army and the Marines are about to become nothing more than a high school summer camp with guns and high explosives.

You have to wonder if the social engineers who are throwing a wrecking ball into the US military have any knowledge at all about combat, the military and war itself. People like Obama, Joe Biden, Ash Carter, Ray Mabus, Eric Fanning and the rest of the military’s executioners should study battles like The Wilderness, Verdun, Tarawa, Peleliu, Okinawa, Iwo Jima, Normandy, the Bulge, Khe Sanh and Tet. Think modern war can be won by diversity and technology; just ask the Marines who fought at Fallujah, or the soldiers from the Big Red One in Desert Storm who got into hand to hand fighting with the Republican Guard during the Battle of Norfolk, on the night of 26 February 1991.

War is about one thing; killing the enemy before he can kill you. It has nothing to do with equal opportunity, diversity, LGBT rights, transgender expression and ludicrous fantasies emanating from Professor Birkenstock’s women’s studies class.

Call me a cynic, but I think the subject is such a third rail in American politics that even a PC bashing behemoth like Trump won’t touch the issue. If elected, Trump would rebuild the military, but I don’t believe he has the knowledge nor will he have any generals with the stones to tell him to amend this debacle. If Trump utilizes the same school of Pentagon jellyfish trolling the hallways of the E-Ring, it’s game, set and match bad guys.

And, of course if Madame Secretary is elected it really is End of Times, not only for the military, but for the nation itself.

Nope, it will take a colossal military disaster for this fiasco to end once and for all. Colossal military disaster defined as Putin’s Boys leaving the wreckage of the New US Army on the Ukrainian steppes; M1 tanks, red high heels and breast milk coolers. Or, the Chinese leaving a trail of tampons, mascara, lipstick and dead coed Marines throughout the tiny atolls of the South China Sea.

The true victims of this impending disaster are America’s young women in uniform. Well over ninety percent of women in the US military want nothing to do with ground combat, the combat arms and special operations. They are happy serving their country in the hundreds and hundreds of different jobs open to them. They know more than anyone what they are physically capable of doing in the military. It is a small minority of self-serving women in the military and leftist civilians who are pushing this nightmare agenda down the throat of the military.

The US military is on a collision course to defeat, disaster and perhaps complete destruction in war. The forced integration of women in the combat arms is not a civil rights victory, but rather the single greatest disaster in US military history.