Dear Ma and Pa,
Am well. Hope you are too. I knows Pa don't read reel fast, so I'm writin this reel slow. Tell brothers Walt and Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Benz. Tell them to join up quick before maybe all of the places are filled.
I was restless at first because you gots to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing .Men got to shave but it is not bad, they git warm water.
Breakfast is strong on trimmings. Like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc…, but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried maters, pie, and other regular food. But tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit between two city slickers from Ohio that live on coffee.
Their food plus holds you till noon, when you get fed again. It’s no wonder these city boys can’t walk much. We go on “route” marches, which the Platoon Sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it is not my place to tell him different. A “route march” is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys gets sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.
The country is nice, but awful flat. The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags some. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and Colonels just ride around and frown. They don’t bother you none.
This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don’t know why. The bulls-eye is near big as a chipmunk and don’t move. And it ain’t shooting at you, like the Couch boys at home.All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don’t even have to load your own cartridges. They come in boxes.
Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry up and join before other fellas get onto this setup and come stampeding in
.
Your loving daughter,
Dawn
Saturday, October 25, 2008
New chemical warfare
An instructor in chemical warfare asked soldiers in his class: “Anyone know the formula for water?”
“Sure, that’s easy,” said one man.
“ H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O.”
“What, what?” re-asked the instructor.
“H to O,” explained the chemistry expert.
“Sure, that’s easy,” said one man.
“ H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O.”
“What, what?” re-asked the instructor.
“H to O,” explained the chemistry expert.
Change....
Officer: “Soldier, do you have change for a dollar?”
Soldier: “Sure, buddy.”
Officer: “That’s no way to address an officer! Now, let’s try it again.”
Officer: “Soldier, do you have change for a dollar?”
Soldier: “No, SIR!”
Soldier: “Sure, buddy.”
Officer: “That’s no way to address an officer! Now, let’s try it again.”
Officer: “Soldier, do you have change for a dollar?”
Soldier: “No, SIR!”
Flying backseat in an F-14....
Below is an article written by Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated. He details his experiences when given the opportunity to fly in a F-14 Tomcat. If you aren’t laughing by the time you get to “Milk Duds,” your sense of humor is broken.
“Now this message if for America’s most famous athletes.
Someday you may be invited to fly in the back seat of one of your country’s most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have…John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me urge you, with the greatest sincerity…
Move to Guam. Change your name. Fake your own death! Whatever you do…Do Not Go!!!
I know.
The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was toast! I should have known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff) King of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.
Whatever you’re thinking a Top Gun pilot named Chip (Biff) King looks like, triple it. He’s about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair, finger crippling handshake—the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his leisure time. If you see this man, run the other way. Fast.
Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA missions. (“T-minus 15 seconds and counting….” Remember?) Chip would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack would wake up from naps surrounded by nine year olds waiting for him to say, “We have a liftoff.”
Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60 million weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin Montgomerie. I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning.
“Bananas,” he said.
“For the potassium?” I asked.
“No,” Biff said, “because they taste about the same coming up as they do going down.”
The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name sewn over the left breast. (No call sign – like Crash or Sticky or Leadfoot – but, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed. If ever in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole Kidman, this was it.
A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me my safety briefing and then fastened me into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would “egress” me out of the plane at such velocity that I would be immediately knocked unconscious.
Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs up. In minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then canopy rolled over another F-14.
Those 20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80. It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell. Only without rails. We did barrel rolls, snap rolls, loops, yanks and banks. We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of 10,000 feet per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us.
We broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me, thereby approximating life as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie.
And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the pizza from the night before. And lunch before that. I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth grade. I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G-s, I was egressing stuff that did not even want to be egressed. I went through not one airsick bag, but two.
Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing target and the G’s were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to throw down.
I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman making a five-iron bite. But now I really know cool. Cool is guys like Biff, men with cast iron stomachs and Freon nerves. I wouldn’t go up there again for Derek Jeter’s black book, but I’m glad Biff does every day, and for less a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.
A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he’d send it on a patch for my flight suit.
What is it? I asked.
“Two Bags.”
“Now this message if for America’s most famous athletes.
Someday you may be invited to fly in the back seat of one of your country’s most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have…John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me urge you, with the greatest sincerity…
Move to Guam. Change your name. Fake your own death! Whatever you do…Do Not Go!!!
I know.
The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was toast! I should have known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff) King of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.
Whatever you’re thinking a Top Gun pilot named Chip (Biff) King looks like, triple it. He’s about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair, finger crippling handshake—the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his leisure time. If you see this man, run the other way. Fast.
Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA missions. (“T-minus 15 seconds and counting….” Remember?) Chip would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack would wake up from naps surrounded by nine year olds waiting for him to say, “We have a liftoff.”
Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60 million weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin Montgomerie. I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning.
“Bananas,” he said.
“For the potassium?” I asked.
“No,” Biff said, “because they taste about the same coming up as they do going down.”
The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name sewn over the left breast. (No call sign – like Crash or Sticky or Leadfoot – but, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed. If ever in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole Kidman, this was it.
A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me my safety briefing and then fastened me into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would “egress” me out of the plane at such velocity that I would be immediately knocked unconscious.
Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs up. In minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then canopy rolled over another F-14.
Those 20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80. It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell. Only without rails. We did barrel rolls, snap rolls, loops, yanks and banks. We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of 10,000 feet per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us.
We broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me, thereby approximating life as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie.
And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the pizza from the night before. And lunch before that. I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth grade. I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G-s, I was egressing stuff that did not even want to be egressed. I went through not one airsick bag, but two.
Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing target and the G’s were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to throw down.
I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman making a five-iron bite. But now I really know cool. Cool is guys like Biff, men with cast iron stomachs and Freon nerves. I wouldn’t go up there again for Derek Jeter’s black book, but I’m glad Biff does every day, and for less a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.
A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he’d send it on a patch for my flight suit.
What is it? I asked.
“Two Bags.”
What time is it??????
On some air bases the Air Force is on one side of the field and civilian aircraft use the other side of the field, with the control tower in the middle.
One day the tower received a call from an aircraft asking, “What time is it?”
The tower responded, “Who’s calling?”
The aircraft replied, “What difference does it make?”
The tower replied,” It makes a lot of difference.
If it’s an American Airlines flight, it’s 3 o’clock.
If it’s an Air Force plane, it’s 1500 hours.
If it’s a Navy aircraft, it’s 6 bells.
If it’s an Army aircraft, the big hand in on the 12 and the little hand is on the 3.
If it’s a Marine Corps aircraft, it’s Thursday afternoon and 120 minutes to “Happy Hour.”
One day the tower received a call from an aircraft asking, “What time is it?”
The tower responded, “Who’s calling?”
The aircraft replied, “What difference does it make?”
The tower replied,” It makes a lot of difference.
If it’s an American Airlines flight, it’s 3 o’clock.
If it’s an Air Force plane, it’s 1500 hours.
If it’s a Navy aircraft, it’s 6 bells.
If it’s an Army aircraft, the big hand in on the 12 and the little hand is on the 3.
If it’s a Marine Corps aircraft, it’s Thursday afternoon and 120 minutes to “Happy Hour.”
Thumbs Up....
I guess we’ve all seen Air Force pilots look up just before taxi for takeoff and look at their fist to see if their thumb is sticking straight up.
The crew chief on the ground then agrees and confirms that it is there, salutes and the Air Force pilot then takes off.
Few people know the true reason for this time tested tradition. This is the last link in the Air Force safety net to confirm just prior to takeoff that the pilot does not have both thumbs up his ass.
The crew chief on the ground then agrees and confirms that it is there, salutes and the Air Force pilot then takes off.
Few people know the true reason for this time tested tradition. This is the last link in the Air Force safety net to confirm just prior to takeoff that the pilot does not have both thumbs up his ass.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Funny Quotes
“Do not touch anything unnecessarily. Beware of pretty girls in dance halls and parks who may be spies, as well as bicycles, revolvers, uniforms, arms, dead horses and men lying in the roads – they are not there accidentally.” Soviet Infantry manual, issued in the 1930’s.
“One of the serious problems in planning the fight against American doctrine, is that the Americans do not read their manuals, nor do they feel any obligation to follow their doctrine…” From a Soviet Junior Lt’s notebook.
“The best tank terrain is that without anti-tank weapons.” Russian military doctrine.
“The reason the American Army does so well in wartime, is that war is chaos, and the American Army practices it on a daily basis.” From a post-war debriefing of a German General.
Pearl Harbour radio operator, “Is there anything we can provide?” Response from the Marine Commander on Wake Island: “Send us more Japs.” Said to be the last radio transmissions received from the Marines on Wake Island before it fell to the Japanese, 1941.
In 1836, the Creek and Seminole Indian tribes in Georgia and Florida were waging war against the United States. The U.S. Army had it’s hands full. The Fifth Commandant of the Marine Corps offered the services of a regiment of Marines for duty with the Army. Henderson placed himself in command and, taking virtually the entire available strength of the Corps, left for the extended campaign after tacking a terse message on his office door which read: “Have gone to Florida to fight Indians. Will be back when War is over. “ A. Henderson, Col. Commandant.
“The best armor is staying out of gun-shot.” Italian proverb.
“Airplanes can barely keep themselves in the air. How can they carry any kind of load?” William Pickering, astronomer, 1908.
“Airplanes suffer from so many technical faults that it is only a matter of time before any reasonable man realizes that they are useless!” Scientific American (1910)
“No flying machine will ever fly from New York to Paris.” Orville Wright
“Artillery is the King of Battle: The King cannot swim, however, which is why we need you guys.” USMC arty specialist to a group of Navy officers in Amphib Warfare Indoc Course.
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, and a lot of bitching.” Unknown.
“To throw bombs from an airplane will do as much damage as throwing bags of flour. It will be my pleasure to stand on the bridge of any ship while it is attacked by airplanes.” Newton Baker, U.S. Minister of Defense (1921)
“Samuel Morse must have lost his mind if he believes in this idea himself!” Senator Oliver Hampton Smith, after having seen a demonstration of Morse’s new invention (1842)
“Radio is just a fashion contrivance that will soon die out. It is obvious that there never will be invented a proper receiver!” Thomas Edison
“There is no problem that cannot be solved by the use of high explosives.” Bumper sticker.
“One of the serious problems in planning the fight against American doctrine, is that the Americans do not read their manuals, nor do they feel any obligation to follow their doctrine…” From a Soviet Junior Lt’s notebook.
“The best tank terrain is that without anti-tank weapons.” Russian military doctrine.
“The reason the American Army does so well in wartime, is that war is chaos, and the American Army practices it on a daily basis.” From a post-war debriefing of a German General.
Pearl Harbour radio operator, “Is there anything we can provide?” Response from the Marine Commander on Wake Island: “Send us more Japs.” Said to be the last radio transmissions received from the Marines on Wake Island before it fell to the Japanese, 1941.
In 1836, the Creek and Seminole Indian tribes in Georgia and Florida were waging war against the United States. The U.S. Army had it’s hands full. The Fifth Commandant of the Marine Corps offered the services of a regiment of Marines for duty with the Army. Henderson placed himself in command and, taking virtually the entire available strength of the Corps, left for the extended campaign after tacking a terse message on his office door which read: “Have gone to Florida to fight Indians. Will be back when War is over. “ A. Henderson, Col. Commandant.
“The best armor is staying out of gun-shot.” Italian proverb.
“Airplanes can barely keep themselves in the air. How can they carry any kind of load?” William Pickering, astronomer, 1908.
“Airplanes suffer from so many technical faults that it is only a matter of time before any reasonable man realizes that they are useless!” Scientific American (1910)
“No flying machine will ever fly from New York to Paris.” Orville Wright
“Artillery is the King of Battle: The King cannot swim, however, which is why we need you guys.” USMC arty specialist to a group of Navy officers in Amphib Warfare Indoc Course.
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, and a lot of bitching.” Unknown.
“To throw bombs from an airplane will do as much damage as throwing bags of flour. It will be my pleasure to stand on the bridge of any ship while it is attacked by airplanes.” Newton Baker, U.S. Minister of Defense (1921)
“Samuel Morse must have lost his mind if he believes in this idea himself!” Senator Oliver Hampton Smith, after having seen a demonstration of Morse’s new invention (1842)
“Radio is just a fashion contrivance that will soon die out. It is obvious that there never will be invented a proper receiver!” Thomas Edison
“There is no problem that cannot be solved by the use of high explosives.” Bumper sticker.
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