This story recd in an email;

Years ago the phrase “Kilroy Was Here” was very popular. I probably heard it on TV programs in the 50’s growing up.  Even though it was from the WWII era,  I saw it written a couple of times when I was  in Vietnam.  I saw the following story and thought that it was interesting.   Who the heck was KILROY?? KILROY WAS HERE! In 1946 the American Transit Association, through its radio program, `Speak to America,` sponsored a nationwide contest to find the REAL Kilroy, offering a prize of a real trolley car to the person who could prove himself to be the genuine article. Almost 40 men stepped forward to make that claim, but only James Kilroy from Halifax , Massachusetts had evidence of his identity. Kilroy was a 46-year old shipyard worker during the war. He worked as a checker at the Fore River Shipyard in Quincy. His job was to go around and check on the number of rivets completed. Riveters were on piecework and got paid by the rivet. Kilroy would count a block of rivets and put a check mark in semi-waxed lumber chalk, so the rivets wouldn`t be counted twice. When Kilroy went off duty, the riveters would erase the mark. Later on, an off-shift inspector would come through and count the rivets a second time, resulting in double pay for the riveters. One day Kilroy`s boss called him into his office. The foreman was upset about all the wages being paid to riveters, and asked him to investigate. It was then that he realized what had been going on. The tight spaces he had to crawl in to check the rivets didn`t lend themselves to lugging around a paint can and brush, so Kilroy decided to stick with the waxy chalk. He continued to put his checkmark on each job he inspected, but added KILROY WAS HERE in king-sized letters next to the check, and eventually added the sketch of the chap with the long nose peering over the fence and that became part of the Kilroy message. Once he did that, the riveters stopped trying to wipe away his marks. Ordinarily the rivets and chalk marks would have been covered up with paint. With war on, however, ships were leaving the Quincy Yard so fast that there wasn`t time to paint them. As a result, Kilroy`s inspection `trademark` was seen by thousands of servicemen who boarded the troopships the yard produced. His message apparently rang a bell with the servicemen, because they picked it up and spread it all over Europe and the South Pacific. Before the war`s end, `Kilroy` had been here, there, and everywhere on the long haul to Berlin and Tokyo. To the unfortunate troops outbound in those ships, however, he was a complete mystery; all they knew for sure was that some jerk named Kilroy had `been there first.` As a joke, U.S . servicemen began placing the graffiti wherever they landed, claiming it was already there when they arrived. Kilroy became the U.S. super-GI who had always `already been` wherever GIs went. It became a challenge to place the logo in the most unlikely places imaginable (it is said to be atop Mt. Everest, the Statue of Liberty, the underside of the Arch De Triumphe, and even scrawled in the dust on the moon.) And as the war went on, the legend grew. Underwater demolition teams routinely sneaked ashore on Japanese-held islands in the Pacific to map the terrain for the coming invasions by U.S. troops (and thus, presumably, were the first GI`s there). On one occasion, however, they reported seeing enemy troops painting over the Kilroy logo! In 1945, an outhouse was built for the exclusive use of Roosevelt, Stalin, and Churchill at the Potsdam conference. The first person inside was Stalin, who emerged and asked his aide (in Russian), `Who is Kilroy?` … To help prove his authenticity in 1946, James Kilroy brought along officials from the shipyard and some of the riveters. He won the trolley car, which he gave to his nine children as a Christmas gift and set it up as a playhouse in the Kilroy front yard in Halifax, Massachusetts. So now You Know!! Of course there are possible variences in this, as in all storys. http://www.snopes.com/language/phrases/kilroy.asp

(This is from the NASA pilot who just ferried the Shuttle back to Florida. It was his first ferry flight.)   Well,  it’s been 48 hours since I landed the 747 with the shuttle Atlantis on  top and I am still buzzing from the experience.  I have to say that  my whole mind, body and soul went into the professional mode just before  engine start in Mississippi, and stayed there, where it all needed to  be, until well after the flight…in fact, I am not sure if it is all  back to normal as I type this email.  The experience was  surreal.   Seeing that “thing” on top of an already overly  huge aircraft boggles my mind.  The whole mission from takeoff to  engine shutdown was unlike anything I had ever done.  It was like a  dream…someone else’s dream.         We  took off from Columbus AFB on their 12,000 foot runway, of  which I used 11,999 1/2  feet to get the wheels off the  ground.  We were at 3,500 feet left to go of the runway,  throttles full power, nose wheels still hugging the ground, copilot  calling out decision speeds, the weight of Atlantis now screaming  through my fingers clinched tightly on the controls, tires heating up to  their near maximum temperature from the speed and the weight, and not  yet at rotation speed, the speed at which I would be pulling on the  controls to get the nose to rise.   I just could not wait, and I  mean I COULD NOT WAIT, and started pulling early.  If I had waited  until rotation speed, we would not have rotated enough to get airborne  by the end of the runway.  So I pulled on the controls early and  started our rotation to the takeoff attitude.   The wheels  finally lifted off as we passed over the stripe marking the end of  the runway and my next hurdle (physically) was a line of trees 1,000  feet off the departure end of Runway 16.  All I knew was we  were flying and so I directed the gear to be retracted and the flaps to  be moved from Flaps 20 to Flaps 10 as I pulled even harder on the  controls.   I must say, those trees were beginning to look a lot  like those brushes in the drive through car washes so I pulled even  harder yet!  I think I saw a bird just fold its wings and fall out  of a tree as if to say “Oh just take me”.   Okay, we cleared the  trees, duh, but it was way too close for my laundry.  As we started  to actually climb, at only 100 feet per minute, I smelled something that  reminded me of touring the Heineken Brewery in Europe…I said “is that  a skunk I smell?” and the veterans of shuttle carrying looked at me and  smiled and said “Tires”!  I said “TIRES???  OURS???”    They smiled and shook their heads as if to call their Captain an  amateur…okay, at that point I was.  The tires were so hot you  could smell them in the cockpit.  My mind could not get over, from  this point on, that this was something I had never experienced.   Where’s your mom when you REALLY need her?      The  flight down to Florida was an eternity.  We cruised at 250 knots  indicated, giving us about 315 knots of ground speed at 15,000′.   The miles didn’t click by like I am use to them clicking by in a fighter  jet at MACH .94.  We were burning fuel at a rate of 40,000 pounds  per hour or 130 pounds per mile, or one gallon every length of the  fuselage.   The vibration in the cockpit was mild, compared to down  below and to the rear of the fuselage where it reminded me of that  football game I had as a child where you turned it on and the players  vibrated around the board.  I felt like if I had plastic clips on  my boots I could have vibrated to any spot in the fuselage I wanted to  go without moving my legs…and the noise was deafening.   The 747  flies with its nose 5 degrees up in the air to stay level, and when  you bank, it feels like the shuttle is trying to say “hey, let’s roll  completely over on our back”..not a good thing I kept telling  myself.  SO I limited my bank angle to 15 degrees and even though a  180 degree course change took a full zip code to complete, it was the  safe way to turn this monster.        Airliners  and even a flight of two F-16s deviated from their flight plans to catch a glimpse of us along the way.  We dodged what was in reality very  few clouds and storms, despite what everyone thought, and arrived in  Florida with 51,000 pounds of fuel too much to land with.   We can’t  land heavier than 600,000 pounds total weight and so we had to do  something with that fuel.  I had an idea…let’s fly low and slow  and show this beast off to all the taxpayers in Florida lucky enough to  be outside on that Tuesday afternoon.   So at Ormond Beach we let  down to 1,000 feet above the ground/water and flew just east of the  beach out over the water.  Then, once we reached the NASA airspace  of the Kennedy Space Center, we cut over to the Banana/Indian Rivers and  flew down the middle of them to show the people of Titusville, Port  St.Johns and Melbourne just what a 747 with a shuttle on it looked  like.   We stayed at 1,000 feet and since we were dragging our  flaps at “Flaps 5″, our speed was down to around 190 to 210 knots.   We could see traffic stopping in the middle of roads to take a  look.  We heard later that a Little League Baseball game stop to  look and everyone cheered as we became their 7th inning stretch.   Oh say can you see…      After  reaching Vero Beach, we turned north to follow the coast line back up to  the Shuttle Landing Facility (SLF).  There was not one person  laying on the beach…they were all standing and waving!    ”What a sight” I thought…and figured they were thinking the same  thing.   All this time I was bugging the engineers, all three of  them, to re-compute our fuel and tell me when it was time to  land.   They kept saying “Not yet Triple, keep showing this  thing off” which was not a bad thing to be doing.  However, all  this time the thought that the landing, the muscling of this 600,000  pound beast, was getting closer and closer to my reality.  I was  pumped up!   We got back to the SLF and were still 10,000 pounds too  heavy to land so I said I was going to do a low approach over the SLF  going the opposite direction of landing traffic that day.   So  at 300 feet, we flew down the runway, rocking our wings like a whale  rolling on its side to say “hello” to the people looking on!   One  turn out of traffic and back to the runway to land…still 3,000 pounds  over gross weight limit.  But the engineers agreed that if the  landing were smooth, there would be no problem.  ”Oh thanks guys, a  little extra pressure is just what I needed!”  So we landed at  603,000 pounds and very smoothly if I have to say so myself.   The  landing was so totally controlled and on speed, that it was fun.   There were a few surprises that I dealt with, like the 747 falls like a  rock with the orbiter on it, if you pull the throttles off at the  ”normal” point in a landing and secondly, if you thought you could hold  the nose off the ground after the mains touch down, think again…IT IS  COMING DOWN!!!   So I “flew it down” to the ground and saved what I  have seen in videos of a nose slap after landing.  Bob’s video  supports this!  :8-)    Then  I turned on my phone after coming to a full stop only to find 50  bazillion emails and phone messages from all of you who were so super to  be watching and cheering us on!  What a treat, I can’t thank y’all  enough.   For those who watched, you wondered why we sat there so  long. Well, the shuttle had very hazardous chemicals on board and we had  to be “sniffed” to determine if any had leaked or were leaking.   They checked for Monomethylhydrazine (N2H4 for Charlie Hudson) and  nitrogen tetroxide (N2O4).  Even though we were “clean”, it took  way too long for them to tow us in to the mate-demate area.  Sorry  for those who stuck it out and even waited until we exited the  jet.      I  am sure I will wake up in the middle of the night here soon, screaming  and standing straight up dripping wet with sweat from the realization of  what had happened.  It was a thrill of a lifetime.  Again I  want to thank everyone for your interest and support.  It felt good  to bring Atlantis home in one piece after she had worked so hard getting  to the Hubble Space Telescope and back.         Triple  Nickel   NASA  Pilot

Memorial Day 25 May 2009 Op ed Albuquerque Journal; 

You are a 19 year old kid, critically wounded and dying in the jungle in the La Drang Valley, Landing Zone X Ray, Viet Nam. Your infantry unit is outnumbered eight to one and the enemy fire is so intense that your infantry commander has ordered the medivac helicopters to stop coming in.

You are lying there, listening to the enemy machine gun fire and you realise you are not getting out. Your family is half way around the world, 12,000 miles away. You realise you will never see them again. As the world around you begins to fade in and out,   you come to the realization that this 14 November 1965 is your last day on earth.

Then over the intense machinegun fire, you faintly hear that unmistakeable sound of a helicopter. You look up to see a single unarmed Huey. It doesn’t seem real because it has no medivac markings on it.

Captain ED FREEMAN is coming for You. He is NOT medivac, so it’s not really his job.  Unexplainably, Miraculously he is flying his Huey right down into the machinegun fire, after the medivacs were ordered NOT to come in.   Captain Ed Freeman is coming in spite of the withering fire. He drops it in and sits there in the gunfire as two or three of you are loaded on board.  Then he flys you up through even more intense gunfire and out to the doctors and nurses at the field hospital.

Capatin ED FREEMAN then turns back again, and again, a total of 13 MORE times. He keeps coming back until he has taken out about 30 of you who would never have gotten out without those miraculous flights.

Medal of Honor recipient, ED FREEMAN died this spring at the age of of 80, in Boise Idaho, may GOD rest his soul.

I will bet you didn’t hear about this true Hero’s passing, but we sure were told a whole bunch of total nonsense about some hip-hop coward beating the crap out of his ‘girlfriend’. …     Shame on ‘The American Media’……  

 S.A. Riley Albuquerque New Mexico

Fascinating account…clarifies some details and makes one wonder where our liberal media  is when the truth begs to be told…..Go Navy!!!….and a big Bravo Zulu (attaboy) to the Seals….CB

PATRIOTS: 

    Much more detail on the Alabama-Obama-Pirate-Seal Incident. You won’t be able to put this down once starting it! Further explains what went on with the Obama -FBI connection to the event.

 

 

 

Real story of Obama (POTUS) and the hostage rescue……

 XXXX brief went well Friday.
 
Mainstream Media’s  ”Real” story is not exactly the way I heard it, and probably has a few political twists thrown in to stir the pot.  Rather than me trying to correct it, I’ll just tell you what I found out from my contacts at NSWC Norfolk and at SOCOM Tampa.
 
First though, let me orient you to familiarize you with the “terrain.” 
 
In Africa from Djibouti at the southern end of the Red Sea eastward through the Gulf of Aden to round Cape Guardafui at the easternmost tip of Africa (also known as “The Horn of Africa”) is about a 600 nm transit before you stand out into the Indian Ocean .  That transit is comparable in distance to that from the mouth of the Mississippi at New Orleans to the tip of Florida at Key West– except that 600 nm over there is infested with Somalia pirates.
 
Ships turning southward at the Horn of Africa transit the SLOC (Sea Lane of Commerce) along the east coast of Somalia because of the prevailing southerly currents there.  It’s about 1,500 nm on to Mombassa, which is just south of the equator in Kenya .  Comparably, that’s about the transit distance from Portland Maine down the east coast of the US to Miami Florida .  In other words, the ocean area being patrolled by our naval forces off the coast of Somalia is comparable to that in the Gulf of Mexico from the Mississippi River east to Miami then up the eastern seaboard to Maine .
 
Second, let me globally orient you from our Naval Operating Base in Norfolk, VA, east across the Atlantic to North Africa, thence across the Med to Suez in Egypt, thence southward down the Red Sea to Djibouti at the Gulf of Aden, thence eastward to round Cape Guardafui at the easternmost tip of Africa, and thence southerly some 300 miles down the east cost of Somalia out into the high seas of the Indian Ocean to the position of MV ALABAMA is a little more than 7,000 nm, and plus-nine time-zones ahead of EST.
 
Hold that thought, in that, a C-17 transport averaging a little better than 400 kts (SOG) takes the best part of 18 hours to make that trip.  In the evening darkness late Thursday night, a team of Navy SEALs from NSWC (Naval Surface Warfare Center) Norfolk parachuted from such a C-17 into the black waters (no refraction of light) of the Indian Ocean– close-aboard to our 40,000 ton amphibious assault ship, USS BOXER (LHD 4), the flagship of our ESG (Expeditionary Strike Group) in the AOR (Area Of Responsibility, the Gulf of Aden). 

 They not only parachuted in with all of their “equipment,” they had their own inflatable boats, RHIB’s (Rigid Hull, Inflatable Boats) with them for over-water transport.  They went into BOXER’s landing dock, debarked, and staged for the rescue– Thursday night.
 
And, let me comment on time-late:  In that the SEAL’s quick response– departing ready-alert in less than 4 hours from Norfolk– supposedly surprised POTUS’s staff, whereas President Obama was miffed not to get his “cops” there before the Navy.  He reportedly questioned his staff, “Will ‘my’ FBI people get there before the Navy does?” 

 It took the FBI almost 12 hours to put together a team and get them packed-up– for an “at sea” rescue.  The FBI was trying to tell him that they are not practiced to do this– Navy SEALs are.  But, BHO wanted the FBI there “to help,” that is, carry out the Attorney General’s (his) orders to negotiate the release of Captain Phillips peacefully– because apparently he doesn’t trust GW’s military to carry out his “political guidance.”
 
The flight of the FBI’s passenger jet took a little less than 14 hours at 500-some knots to get to Djibouti .  BOXER’S helos picked them up and transported them out to the ship.  The Navy SEALs were already there, staged, and ready to act by the time POTUS’s FBI arrived on board latter that evening.  Notably, the first request by the OSC (On Scene Commander) that early Friday morning to take them out and save Captain Phillips was denied, to wit:  “No, wait until ‘my’ FBI people get there.”  
 
Third, please consider a candid assessment of ability that finds that the FBI snipers had never practiced shooting from a rolling, pitching, yawing, surging, swaying, heaving platform– and, target– such as a ship and a lifeboat on the high seas.  Navies have been doing exactly this, since Admiral Nelson who had trained “Marines” to shoot muskets from the ship’s rigging.  Ironically, he was killed at sea in HMS VICTORY at the amazing Battle of Trafalgar by a French Marine rifleman that shot him from the rigging of the French ship that they were grappling alongside.
 
Notably, when I was first training at USNA in 1955, the Navy was doing it with a SATU, Small Arms Training Unit, based at our Little Creek amphib base.  Now, Navy SEAL’s, in particular SEAL Team SIX (The “DevGru”) based at NSWC ( Naval Surface Warfare Center ) at Little Creek do that training now, and hone their skills professionally— daily. 

Shooting small arms from a ship is more of an accomplished “Art Form” than it is a practiced skill.  When you are “in the bubble” and “in tune” with the harmonic motion you find, through practice, that you are “able to put three .308 slugs inside the head of a quarter at 100 meters, in day or night– or, behind a camouflaged net or a thin enclosure, such as a superstructure bulkhead.  Yes, we have the monocular scopes that can “see” heat– and, draw a bead on it.  SEALs are absolutely expert at it— with the movie clips to prove it.
 
Okay, now try to imagine patrolling among the boats fishing everyday out on the Grand Banks off our New England coast, and then responding to a distress call from down around the waters between Florida and the Bahamas .  Three points for you to consider here: 

(1) Time-Distance-Speed relationships for ships on the high seas, for instance, at a 25-knot SOA (Speed Of Advance) it takes 24 hours to make good 600 nm– BAINBRIDGE did. 

(2) Fishermen work on the high seas, and

(3) The best place to hide as a “fisherman” pirate is among other fishermen
 
Early Wednesday morning, 4/8/2009, MV ALABAMA is at sea in the IO about 300 miles off the (east) coast of Somalia en route to Mombassa Kenya .  Pirates in small boat start harassing her, and threatening her with weapons.  MV ALABAMA ’s captain sent out the distress call by radio, and ordered his Engineer to shut down the engines as well as the ship-service electrical generators– in our lingo, “Go dark and cold.” 

He informed his crew by radio what was happening, and ordered them to go to an out-of-the-way compartment and lock themselves in it– from the inside.  He would stay in the pilot house to “negotiate” with the pirates.  
 
The pirates boarded, captured the Captain, and ordered him to start the engines.  He said he would order his Engineer to do so, and he called down to Engine Control on the internal communication system, but got no answer.  The lead pirate ordered two of his four men to go down and find him and get the engines started.
 
Inside a huge ship without any lights is like the definition of dark.  The advantage goes to the people who work and live there.  They jumped the two pirates in a dark passageway.  Both pirates lost their weapons, but one managed to scramble and get away.  The other they tied up, put tape over his mouth and a knife at his throat.
 
Other members of the crew opened the drain cocks on the pirates boat and cast it adrift.  It foundered and sunk.  The scrambling pirate made it back to the pilot house and told of his demise.  The pirates took the Captain at gun point, and told him to launch one of his rescue boats (not a life boat, per se).  As he was lowering the boat for them, the crew appeared with the other pirate to negotiate a trade.  The crew let their hostage go too soon, and the pirates kept the captain.  But, he purposefully had lowered the boat so it would jam.
 
With the rescue boat jammed, the pirates jumped over to a lifeboat and released it as the captain jumped in the water.  They fired at him, made him stop, and grabbed him out of the water.  Now, as night falls in the vastness of the Indian Ocean , we have the classic “Mexican” standoff, to wit:  A life-boat that is just that, a life-boat adrift without any means of propulsion except oars and paddles; and, a huge (by comparison) Motor Vessel Container Ship adrift with a crew that is not going to leave their captain behind.  The pirates are enclosed under its shelter-covering, holding the captain as their hostage.  The crew is hunkered down in their ship waiting for the “posse” to arrive.
 
After receiving MV ALABAMA ‘S distress call;

 USS BAINBRIDGE (DDG 96) was dispatched by the ESG commander to respond to ALABAMA ’s distress call.  At best sustainable speed, she arrived on scene the day after– that is, in the dark of that early Thursday morning.  As BAINBRIDGE quietly and slowly, a darkened-ship without any lights to give her away, arrived on scene, please consider a recorded interview with the Chief Engineer of MV ALABAMA describing BAINBRIDGE’s arrival. 

He said it was something else “… to see the Navy slide in there like a greyhound!”  He then said as she slipped in closer he could see the “Stars and Stripes” flying from her masthead.  He got choked up saying it was the “…proudest moment of my life.”   

Phew!  Let that sink in.
Earlier in the day, one of the U.S. Navy’s Maritime Patrol Aircraft, a fixed wing P3C Orion, flew over to recon the scene.  They dropped a buoy with a radio to the pirates so that the Navy’s interpreter could talk with the pirates.  When BAINBRIDGE arrived, the pirates thought the radio to be a beaconing device, and threw it overboard.  They wanted a satellite telephone so that they could call home for help.  Remember now, they are fishermen, not rocket scientists, in that– they don’t know that we can intercept the phone transmission also.
 
MV ALABAMA   provided them with a satellite phone.  They called home back to “somebody” in Eyl Somalia (so that we now know where you live) to come out and get them.  The “somebody” in Eyl said they would be out right away with other hostages, like 54 of them from other countries, and that they would be coming out in two of their pirated ships.  The “somebody” in Eyl just chalked up four more expendables as overhead for “the cost of operation.”  Next page.
 
Anyway, ESG will continue to “watch” Eyl for any ships standing out.
 
The Navy SEAL team, SEAL TEAM SIX, from NSWC briefed the OSC (Commander Castellano, CO BAINBRIDGE) on how they could rescue the captain from the life boat with swimmers– “Combat Swimmers,” per se.  That plan was denied by POTUS because it put the captain in danger– and, involved killing the pirates. 
 
The FBI negotiators arrived on scene, and talked the pirates into sending their wounded man over for treatment Saturday morning.  Later that afternoon, the SEAL’s sent over their RHIB with food and water to recon the life boat but the pirates shot at it.  They could have taken them out then (from being fired upon) but were denied again being told that the captain was not in “imminent danger.”  The FBI negotiators calmed the situation by informing the pirates of threatening weather as they could see storm clouds closing from the horizon, and offered to tow the life boat.  The pirates agreed, and BAINBRIDGE took them under tow in their wake at 30 meters– exactly 30 meters, which is exactly the distance the SEALs practice their shooting skills.
 
With the lifeboat under tow, riding comfortably bow-down on BAINBRIDGE’s wake-wave (”rooster tail”), had a 17-second period of harmonic motion, and at the end of every half-period (8.5 seconds) was steady on.  The light-enhanced (infra-red heat) monocular scopes on the SEAL’s .308 caliber Mark 11 Mod 0 H&K suppressor-fitted sniper rifles easily imaged their target very clearly.  Pirates in a life boat at 30-meters could be compared to fish in a barrel.  All that was necessary was to take out the plexiglass window so that it would not deflect the trajectory of the high velocity .308 round.  So, a sniper (one of four) with a wad-cutter round (a flaxen sabot) would take out the window a split second before the kill-shot– no change in sight-picture, just the window blowing out, clean.
 
Now, here’s the part BHO’s “whiz kids” knew as well as the Navy hierarchy, including CO BAINBRIDGE and CO SEAL TEAM SIX.  It’s the ‘Law’ ,  in Article 19 of Appendix L in the “Convention of the High Seas” that the Commanding Officer of a US Ship on the high seas is obligated to respond to distress signals from any flagged ship (US or otherwise), and protect the life and property thereof when deemed to be in IMMINENT DANGER.  So, in the final analysis, it would be Captain Castellano call as to “Imminent Danger,” and that he alone was obligated (duty bound) to act accordingly.
 
Got the picture?
 
After medically attending to the wounded pirate, and feeding him, come first light (from the east) on Easter Sunday morning and the pirates saw they were being towed further out to sea (instead of westward toward land), the wounded pirate demanded to be returned to the lifeboat.  There would be NO more negotiations– and, the four Navy SEAL snipers “in the bubble” went “Unlock.” 

 The pirate holding Captain Philips raised the gun to his head, and IMMINENT DANGER was so observed and noted in the Log as CO BAINBRIDGE gave the classic order: WEAPONS RELEASED!   I can hear the echo in my earpiece now, “On my count (from 8.5 seconds), 3, 2, 1, !”  POP, BANG!  Out went the window, followed by three simultaneous shots.  The scoreboard flashed: “GAME OVER, GAME OVER– NAVY 3, PIRATES  0!”
 
I hope you found the above informative as best I know it– and, please excuse me in that after more than 50 years the Navy is still in me.  I submit that AMERICA is going to make a comeback, and more than likely it’ll be on the back of our cherished youth serving with honor in Our military.  So, let’s
Look Up, Get Up– and, Never Give Up!
 
God Bless Our Troops, and
GOD SAVE AMERICA !
Bxxxxx

 

 

SPEED and ANGELS .. F-14

These are the real leaders of our Nation. The lifetime of dedication and training these young men and women go through, would surely prepare them for any leadership position anywhere in this world. The Pilots of The United States Navy, are the only pilots in the world that Take off  from and Land on, Aircraft Carriers both Day and NIGHT.  The UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, “One Nation Under GOD” .

http://www.hulu.com/watch/49206/speed-and-angels

Anyone that is questioning the qualifications required to fly an aircraft, specifically a ‘Fighter’ aircraft, in the United States Military, needs to read this recent account about one decorated Fighter Pilot. The ‘washout’ rate is phenominal. In actuality the regimen of training that washes out so many promising pilots, really saves their lives as they then join the ’support’ arena of their chosen military.  Also a reminder, The  ’Commander In Chief’ has to earn that title and respect,  lest any one forget.  http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200903/air-force

Seeing the recent excellent landing by US Air  in The Hudson River, brought attention to this bit of history starring Pan Am. Both incidents had many unaccountable ‘miracles’  in their favor. Only by the ‘Grace of GOD’ are these explained.  http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/01/24/MN7L15E4IC.DTL&hw=pan+am+943&sn=001&sc=1000

Surviving Partial Ejection From A-6 Aircraft  USS Abraham Lincoln Aircraft Carrier (CVN 72) Indian Ocean July 1991   http://www.gallagher.com/ejection_seat/

This is an IMAX documentary best viewed full screen, lasting about 50 minutes. If you have any doubts about a Fighter Pilots mental skills and proven qualifications, you need to get a little more education.

 http://www.hulu.com/watch/24197/fighter-pilot-operation-red-flag

recd; 12 Nov 2008

I just wanted to get the day over with and…. go down to Smokey’s for a few cold ones. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun. Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever — the heat and humidity at the same level — both too high.

 

I saw the car pull into the drive, ‘69 or ‘70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail’s pace. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed. She had a cane and a sheaf of flowers,  about four or five bunches as best I could tell.

 

I couldn’t help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: ‘She’s going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier…my hip hurts like hell and I’m ready to get out of here right now!’

But for this day my duty was to assist anyone coming in. Kevin would lock the ‘In’ gate and if…. I could just hurry the old biddy along, we might make the last half of happy hour at Smokey’s. I broke Post Attention.

My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight; middle-aged man with a small pot-gut and half a limp, in Marine Full Dress Uniform, which had lost its razor crease about 30 minutes after I began the watch…at the cemetery.

 

I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman’s squint. ‘Ma’am may I assist you in any way?’ She took long enough to answer. ‘Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days.’

 

‘My pleasure Ma’am.’ Well, it wasn’t too much of a lie.

 

She looked again. ‘Marine, where were you stationed?’ ‘ Vietnam , Ma’am. Ground-pounder. ‘69 to ‘71.’

 

She looked at me closer. ‘Wounded in action, I see.  Well done, Marine,   I’ll be as quick as I can.’

 

I lied a little bigger, ‘No hurry, Ma’am.’

 

She smiled………… and winked at me. ‘Son, I’m 85-years old and I can tell a lie from a long way off. Let’s get this done, might be the last time I can do this. My name’s Joanne Wieserman, and I’ve a few Marines I’d like to see one more time.’

 

‘Yes, Ma’am, At your service.’

 

She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the bunches out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn’t quite make out.

 

The name on the marble was; Donald S. Davidson, USMC, France 1918. She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek.

She put a bunch on a stone; the name was; Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943. She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone; Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944.  She paused for a second, ‘Two more, son, and we’ll be done’

 

I almost didn’t say anything, but, ‘Yes, Ma’am, Take your time.’

 

She looked confused. ‘Where’s the Vietnam section, son?  I seem to have lost my way.’ I pointed with my chin. ‘That way, Ma’am.’ ‘Oh!’ she chuckled quietly.   ‘Son, me and old age ain’t too friendly.’ She headed down the walk I’d pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted.

 

She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last one on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words…… I still couldn’t make out.

 

‘OK, son, I’m finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.’

 

‘Yes, Ma’am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?’

 

She paused. ‘Yes, Donald Davidson was my father; Stephen was my uncle; Stanley was my husband; Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all Marines.’ She stopped, whether she had finished, or couldn’t finish, I just don’t know.

 

She made her way to her car, slowly, and painfully.

 

I waited for a polite distance to come between us……. and then double-timed it over to Kevin waiting by the car. ‘Get to the ‘Out’-gate QUICK!, I have something I’ve JUST got to do.’ Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road. We beat her.

 

She hadn’t made it around the rotunda yet.

 

‘Kevin………. stand to attention next to the gate post. Follow my lead.’ I humped it across the drive to the other post.

 

When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny’s voice:   ‘TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!’ I have to hand it to Kevin, he never blinked an eye; full dress  attention and a salute that would make his DI proud.

 

She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing Duty, Honor and Sacrifice

 

I am not quite sure, but I think I saw…. a BIG salute returned from that Cadillac!

 

Instead of  ’The End’…. just think of ‘Taps’.   Please let me share a favorite prayer: ‘Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe, whether they serve at home or overseas. Hold them in Your loving hands and protect them as they protect us.’

 

Let’s all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before, in our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.

 

‘In God We Trust!’

 

Sorry about your monitor, it made mine blurry too!

 

I’m sure you might want to pass this one along to a few friends. . Semper Fi,

 

 

A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life wrote a blank check Made payable to  “The United States of America “  for an amount of  “up to and including my life”.  That is Honor, and there are way too many people in This country who no longer understand