Friday, October 29, 2010

Still Here

First internet access in days. Here's where we are.

At the bottom of the hill is this river.

These aren't the best, and there's no editing software on this computer. I found a computer I could use at the public library. Just wanted to post something.
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.
--John Muir

Sunday, October 24, 2010

The 25th Bicycle Corps

An Army unit, the 25 Bicycle Corps, under command of Lt. James Moss, undertook to test if bicycles were going to be useful as military transport. The 25 Infantry was a black unit in a segregated army, and the men that were selected for the Bicycle Corps came out of that unit. That being important to the story if only because of the adventure that follows.

21 soldiers, a reporter, an Army surgeon, and Lt. Moss rode bicycles loaded with equipment from Ft. Missoula, Montana to St. Louis, Missouri. It took 41 days. They did this in 1897, long before any part of their journey would have been paved.

I would write more, but it has been done for me. The journals, news reports, maps, daily history, biographies of the riders, and more can be found at The 25th Infantry Bicycle Corps. A tip of the hat to Steven who suggested the story to me and a thank you to Mike Higgins who captured such a wonderful piece of American history in such detail.
Adventure is worthwhile in itself.
--Amelia Earhart

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

A Story Well Told

Epijunky, at Pink Warm and Dry, has a story from her work as a paramedic. It's about why she does the work she does and the compassion we can all pray we receive when our turn comes around.

I linked her for a second reason, as well. This is about writing, and having the opportunity to read the words of someone I never have had the chance to read until the web came along. A concise vignette about the crossing paths of two people, this story deserves to be recognized.
Write without pay until somebody offers to pay.
--Mark Twain

More Thoughts on the Four Rules

Alan at SnarkyBytes has an interesting post about the 4 Rules and how rule 1 cannot always be applied. His post and the comments make a starting point for discussion.

N.C. Hunter safety has "Always point the muzzle in a safe direction." as their primary rule, and if I was writing gun handling rules, I would probably start with that one. There are several circumstances where all of us handle guns and while we always check the chamber and magazine, after that we act securely in the knowledge that the gun is unloaded.
Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.
-- William Shakespeare, King Henry the Fourth, Part I

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

The First Digital Camera

From an idea, a 100x100 pixel digital black and white CCD chip and parts from broken cameras, the inventor tells the story of the development of digital photography. This is pure geekery, but I had to share.

Where a new invention promises to be useful, it ought to be tried.
--Thomas Jefferson

Red Rag Top

This song was a big hit for Tim McGraw. The version in the video is the song performed by Jason White, the writer. It's not as polished as the hit version, but I like it better. Whatever pain and melancholy he's remembering comes through.

A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember.
--Lewis B. Smedes

Monday, October 18, 2010

Negligent Discharge

Killed his dad on a hunting trip, apparently while clearing the weapon when returning to the vehicle.


Point the muzzle in a safe direction
--Inside the front cover, and on pages 19, 21, 42, 43, 50, 52, 54, 55, 56, and 58 of the N.C. Hunter safety Training Manual

Sunday, October 17, 2010

The John J. Harvey

The John J. Harvey is a fireboat. 130 feet long and 268 tons, she can pump 18,000 gallons a minute. She was built in 1930 by the Todd Shipbuilding Plant and was put into service in 1931. She saw service in New York harbor and was part of the effort to fight the fires on the USS Normandie and the El Estero ammunition ship during WWII. Like all ships, she got old, rusty, and was finally removed from service.

In 1994 she was turned over to a group of preservationists that could not stand the idea of her being cut up for scrap. What followed was a full on effort, not just paint and a display, but corrosion control, drydocking, welding, engine and pump work. Here's some pictures of the work. When they were done, she was capable of operation, protected by repairs to her hull and ready to carry visitors on occasional excursion rides.

On September 11th, 2001, a group of her volunteers took her off her mooring and were ferrying people from Battery Park across the river, part of the spontaneous effort to help people evacuate after the collapse of the World Trade Center. She was ordered to drop off her passengers and return to Manhattan. The collapse had ruptured all the water mains around the site and the John J. Harvey was once again an active fireboat. The NYFD designated her as Marine Company Two and assigned an officer onboard. Her volunteers used her as a rallying point and she pumped to provide water continuously in the firefighting effort until the primary mains were restored.

38 million gallons pumped in 3 days. Not bad for a 70 year old museum boat crewed by volunteers.
Those who can, do. Those who can do more, volunteer.
-- Anonymous

280 mm Gun

I had read about these guns, but never seen video of one. They were built for the expected ground war with the USSR, designed to break up large masses of Soviet armor. Nuclear artillery.

Be absolutely sure of your target, and what is behind it.
--Col. Jeff Cooper.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Blogroll Add

Eyes Never Closed is another gunnie, and his posts on firearms and RTKA make his site worth adding to your regular stops.

Not only that, but when I looked at his blogroll, I was already there.
I am a registered republican, however my beliefs lay squarely with the libertarians. I am a fiscal conservative. I am a gun owner, a hunter, a meat eater. I have a banjo, sometimes I try to play it.
--JP, writing about his blog Eyes Never Closed

Thursday, October 14, 2010

This is Parris Island

This is what it looked like back in the day. Bayonets, running in boots, no nets on the Confidence Course, the old WWII barracks used as Recieving. I came through a few years later and we had M-16s, but everything else looked the same.

The United States Marine Corps, with its fiercely proud tradition of excellence in combat, its hallowed rituals, and its unbending code of honor, is part of the fabric of American myth.
--Thomas E. Ricks; Making the Corps, 1997

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Dieter Dengler

Dieter Dengler was an immigrant from Germany. His lifelong dream to be a pilot led him to first join the Air Force, and then the Navy. Accepted into the flight training program, he was eventually assigned to fly Douglas AD Skyraiders. In 1965 his squadron was flying missions off the deck of the USS Ranger in support of operations in Vietnam.

He was shot down in Laos in February 1966 and captured by the Pathet Lao. He led an escape in June. On July 20th, 1966, after evading capture and surviving a month in the jungle, he managed to signal a C-130. It was a near thing, because no recent pilots had been lost in that area, but he was rescued by the Air Force.

The Air Force and the Navy squabbled over him, and a team of Navy Seals "rescued" him from the Air Force and returned him to the USS Ranger. He had to be hospitalized due to malnutrition and parasites, but he recovered, was promoted, and awarded the Silver Star.

There is a new book about his life, titled Hero Found: The Greatest Escape of the Vietnam War.

This post is only the barest of outlines, here is a link to an excerpt from the book and here's the Wiki article, which is a good starting point for his story.
The Navy Cross is presented to Dieter Dengler, Lieutenant (j.g.), U.S. Navy (Reserve), for extraordinary heroism during an extremely daring escape from a Prisoner of War stockade on 30 June 1966.

Playing a key role in planning, preparing for, and developing an escape and evasion operation involving several fellow prisoners and himself, Lieutenant (j.g.) Dengler, keenly aware of the hazardous nature of the escape attempt, boldly initiated the operation and contributed in large measure to its success.

When an unplanned situation developed while the escape operation was being executed, he reacted with the highest degree of valor and gallantry. Through his courageous and inspiring fighting spirit, Lieutenant (j.g.) Dengler upheld the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

--Lt(J.G.) Dengler's Navy Cross Citation

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Heard This on the Radio Yesterday

It brought back the memories.

Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and cannot remain silent.
--Victor Hugo

Monday, October 11, 2010

Ernest Thompson Seton

Ernest Thompson Seton was a writer, a naturalist, an early leader in the formative years of the Boy Scouts of America. The section about him begins at 2:15 on this Boy Scout video.
Before he was those things he was an outdoorsman and a hunter. He became famous because of his book, Wild Animals I Have Known, which you can download and read thanks to the Gutenberg Project. He lived at that period of time when the West was being tamed and fenced and his influence helped preserve some pieces of wilderness in the form of National Parks.

The only reason I do not go on is that I would not stop for many pages, and the Seton Institute website has everything I would want to say. Go, read about one of the giants, and remember.
It is something to do, something to think about, something to enjoy, something to remember, in the woods, realizing all the time that manhood, not scholarship, is the aim of all true education.
--Ernest Thompson Seton, when asked about his Woodcraft movement.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Equipment Failure

I laughed out loud.

Humor is just another defense against the universe.
--Mel Brooks

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Leaves

You don't see people burning leaves much anymore. Most towns don't permit it. Coming home from the range today, out on a county road, there was a big leaf pile and a man watching them burn. I was driving with the windows down and as I passed through the cloud it took me back 40 years.

The leaves would turn and then fall. Raking them into piles, playing in them, running and jumping into them, that was the kids job. Once the weather turned cold, and the leaves were dry and brown, the dads would rake them into the ditch along the road and burn them. On a dry weekend day in late October or early November, the smell of burning leaves was everywhere.
The fall of a leaf is a whisper to the living.
--Russian Proverb

Friday, October 8, 2010

Ford Giveaway

We missed it.

What's right about America is that although we have a mess of problems, we have great capacity - intellect and resources - to do some thing about them.
--Henry Ford

Thursday, October 7, 2010

E. J. Korvette

I worked for one of the outlets for a few months in the spring of 1976. It was a lot like a K-Mart. Some of everything, and not as nice as Sears. The Wiki article has some information about the decline and bankruptcy. I didn't know any of that at the time, just that they had a Father's Day sale and nobody came. Everyone who had be hired in the last six months was let go.

It was June, I got a job at a summer camp as a lifeguard and met the girl that became my wife. If a lot of people had come to the sale, I would have spent my summer stocking shelves in the automotive department.

Here's an reminder of the times as they were. At 50 seconds in, on the TV screen in the background, you can see the future.

The future is always beginning now.
--Mark Strand

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Gunsmoke

TV was different when I was a kid. There were good guys, bad guys, and there was going to be a fight before the ending credits. My dad like the westerns. Movies, of course, but the TV shows as well. One he always watched was Gunsmoke. It was the number one show on television from 1957 to 1961, with good reason.

YouTube has whole episodes, clips, and edited homages, but I picked this clip to take you back, before color television, when everything seemed black and white.

I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people, and I require the same from them.
--John Wayne, in The Shootist

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Over the Intercom

Every morning at the start of the school day, the intercom would click on. The audio quality was terrible and it would hiss and crackle. The principal would read the announcements, then everyone would stand and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. When the Pledge was done, they would play a recording of a song. We usually sang God Bless America, but sometimes it was America the Beautiful.

When the song ended, the intercom would click off, we would sit, and class would begin.
The philosophy of the school room in one generation will be the philosophy of government in the next.
--Abraham Lincoln

Saturday, October 2, 2010

A Boy Scout Ghost Story

Remove a young man from walls and electricity, put him in a forest after nightfall, and he reverts. If his elders are his Scout leaders, and he he is only on a 3 day trip, well, it doesn't matter much when the wind picks up and the stars are bright points glimpsed through the tops of the trees. A campfire is welcome heat and light, gathered there with his friends, a small bright spot in the darkness. He is just another youngster like so many other over the centuries, looking out into the darkness and imagining.

After the skits and the songs, and not long before everyone retires to the tents, there is often a story. I heard a lot of them, some funny, some thoughtful, some scary. I told some, in my turn, and had a reputation for bringing a good story now and then. This is one I heard as a Scout Leader, at a campfire I attended when I went to some leader training about 1995. It is a ghost story, I suppose, and one of the best I ever heard.

I only wish that we were all gathered at a campsite beside a lake, at the end of a beautiful day like today, and I was closing out the campfire with my tale.

"Tom and Paul were best friends. They went to the same schools, right from kindergarten. They were best friends right from the beginning. Tom was a little bigger, not afraid of anything. Paul was smart, inquisitive, and ready to try whatever Tom came up with.

Their families got used to seeing them together, more like brothers than friends. They were Cub Scouts in the same Den, and they both got their Arrow of Light at the same ceremony and crossed over into Boy Scouts together. They joined Troop 17, it met at the Methodist Church and had a reputation as a Troop that did a lot of camping.

They were active Scouts, picked up rank, went on almost all the camp outs. Tom was a Patrol Leader when he made Star, and Senior Patrol Leader as a Life Scout. Paul was Quartermaster the same year, 1965.

They weren't just Scouts, of course. They had school and girlfriends, family, part time jobs. Tom worked summers on his grandfather's farm. Paul lifeguarded at the community pool. The summer they graduated from high school, class of 1966, they both decided to work at Scout Camp. Tom got assigned to the Camp Quartermaster, drove the camp truck and worked maintenance jobs. Paul had his Red Cross certifications, and he worked at the waterfront.

They had a great summer, and promised each other they would come back the following year. Well, more than promised, really. They swore an oath, on their honor, that they would come back to camp together, that nothing, not girlfriends or jobs or anything, would prevent them from coming back to camp.

Promises like that are hard to keep.

Paul went to college in the fall, he had decided to study engineering, and joined Navy ROTC. It would help pay for school, and in those years, it meant he had a sure deferment from the draft.

Tom got drafted. He went to Army basic training and shipped out to Vietnam. He wrote letters home, even sent a couple to Paul. He had been there eight months, and his unit had seen a lot of action, when he sent on a patrol as part of a larger operation. His platoon got ambushed. The after action reports pretty much told the tale, they got hit hard, and in the effort to set up a defense and bring in the wounded, Tom had gone out under fire three times. On the way back that last time he was shot and fatally wounded.

There was a military funeral, and a small collection of ribbons, including a Silver Star. Paul spoke at the funeral, and told everyone of the promise they had made and how now it could not be kept, of their adventures, and the trouble they got into now and then, and what it was like to have a friend like Tom.

Paul graduated from college in 1970. He was commissioned as an Ensign in the Navy, and selected for flight school.

He wanted to be a fighter pilot, just like everyone who goes to flight school, and he came close, but didn't make the cut. He was assigned to A-6 Intruders, and excelled at that. He qualified for carriers, joined up with a Squadron and went to war. The Vietnam War was in it's final years, but there was still a lot of air support missions being flown, and his carrier was off the coast of Vietnam most of his first year at sea.

He was on a close air support mission, trying to protect South Vietnamese troops and their American advisors when his plane was hit. He came up off the target, but before he regained control, his plane crashed into the jungle. The plane burned, he and his copilot were never recovered.

Now that's just a sad story from the past, I suppose, two good men, two Eagle Scouts, both lost in the Vietnam War, but there's some more to this story. Because they had made a promise, an oath, on their honor, to spend at least one more summer at this camp, and they didn't give themselves an out just because they died.

The first I heard of it was in the 80's, an 8 year old Cub Scout on a family overnight got lost on the trail out to the Wilderness area. All the Scout troops in camp and the local Sheriff's department had started a search. A Scoutmaster found him walking out of the woods up on the hill by the horse barns. The kid said 2 adults in Scout uniforms had walked him up there, only when they asked him to describe what they looked like, he described the old green uniforms that were used in the 60s.

The next time was a Scout on wilderness survival overnight on the ridge. He had built his shelter and was bedded down when he saw 2 Scouts walking along together. Same description, young adults in old time uniforms. They looked over at him, but didn't stop, just continued their hike out on the ridge trail. He was pretty spooked by it, being alone overnight and trying to tell his Scoutmaster the next morning. That time the word got around and it turned out some of the Staff at camp said that they had seen them too.

Now, I never saw them, but the camp ranger says he did, winter before last, right after that big snow in February. He had walked into camp late in the day, going to the dining hall and the bath house to check the pipes. He said they were in front of him on the main trail, in those same uniforms, walking along like it was a summer day. He was bundled up against the cold, crunching through the snow, and started to speed up to catch them. He said he wasn't thinking about it too clearly, just wanted to know who the heck was in camp when they weren't supposed to be.

He stopped when they turned around. Because when he saw their faces, well, the camp ranger used to be a Boy Scout, too. A Boy Scout in Troop 17, and when he made First Class in 1965, his Senior Patrol Leader was named Tom and his Quartermaster was named Paul. He still had Troop pictures, but he wouldn't have forgotten what they looked liked, especially in their summer uniforms. He said they smiled, and Tom waved, and then they turned and hiked down the trail toward the waterfront like they were on patrol.

The night the ranger told me this, he didn't expect me to believe any of it, and I don't expect you to believe me, either. But he stood there for a few minutes as dusk gathered, and when he looked down, there weren't any tracks in the snow. He looked back and his footprints were right there in the snow, but only his, and none on the trail in front of him.

He told me he believed that they had kept their oath. That they were here in camp, and that they were content, that they had come back to the camp they had loved.

So when you're out on the trail in the evening tonight, or on an overnight somewhere remote in the Wilderness, remember those two Scouts and their promise, and how maybe, just maybe, they managed to keep it after all.

Good Night, Scouts."

The ghosts you chase you never catch.

--John Malkovich