September 11, 2008

This Day

Many of my fellow bloggers are posting tributes to those who fell on 9/11, or recollections of a sort — mine is closest to Ace's, if you care — but I can't form anything of which I'm proud.

I hate to say it, but can't be sure I clearly recall 9/11 anymore, and in fact, I'm pretty sure I don't.

I remember flashes of details, but what I archived of that September morning were little more than a swirl of naked unformed emotions I've never been able to articulate and I know I never will, and I know the memories of that day were rewritten and rewritten again in my mind in the days that followed.

One thing I recall with perfect certainty, without reservation. How unbelievably, beautifully crisp and blue the sky was that morning in the Hudson Valley after it all happened.

I lived in a little town on a bluff overlooking the Hudson River at the time called New Windsor.

In the days and weeks that followed, as the rest of the country was coming to grips with the magnitude of the total loss, we were watching funerals of our neighbors in the surrounding small towns, and hearing the survival stories of others. Again, I don't trust the memories and can't channel the emotions, and I won't cheapen the memories of those lost with what I do recall with forced sentimentality.

Those of you who lost someone that day or part of yourself, you have my sincere condolences. For my neighbor across the street, the NYPD cop that aged years in the months that followed, I'm sorry I could not take on part of your burden.

For the rest, I simply have nothing worth saying.

Sorry.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 09:36 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
Post contains 293 words, total size 2 kb.

August 21, 2008

"We Were Soldiers" CMoH Hero Pilot Passes

Ed Freeman, a helicopter pilot that flew fourteen missions into a hot landing zone to re-supply the 7th Cavalry and evacuate wounded soldiers in the Ia Drang Valley, has died at 80.

Check out Argghhh! for more.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 07:26 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 51 words, total size 1 kb.

August 14, 2008

Live and Let Pie

Chef Julia Child: OSS spy?

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 06:44 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 13 words, total size 1 kb.

August 12, 2008

We're All Going to Burn Up or Drown... If We Don't Freeze To Death First

Your latest global warming hysteria, courtesy of one Oliver Tickell:


We need to get prepared for four degrees of global warming, Bob Watson told the Guardian last week. At first sight this looks like wise counsel from the climate science adviser to Defra. But the idea that we could adapt to a 4C rise is absurd and dangerous. Global warming on this scale would be a catastrophe that would mean, in the immortal words that Chief Seattle probably never spoke, "the end of living and the beginning of survival" for humankind. Or perhaps the beginning of our extinction.

The collapse of the polar ice caps would become inevitable, bringing long-term sea level rises of 70-80 metres. All the world's coastal plains would be lost, complete with ports, cities, transport and industrial infrastructure, and much of the world's most productive farmland. The world's geography would be transformed much as it was at the end of the last ice age, when sea levels rose by about 120 metres to create the Channel, the North Sea and Cardigan Bay out of dry land. Weather would become extreme and unpredictable, with more frequent and severe droughts, floods and hurricanes. The Earth's carrying capacity would be hugely reduced. Billions would undoubtedly die.

Why, isn't that just peachy?

Tickell's solution to the problem? He doesn't actually have one, but he won't tell you that because he's busy whoring a book, trying to cash in on the fear to the same easily-fooled people who bought into the end of the world event known as Y2K... and we know how that turned out.

Here's the facts, folks.

The temperature of the Earth rose nearly one whole degree over the past century, but has actually been falling for the past decade (PDF).

As it now stands, the global temperature now is roughly near the median temperature of the last 2,400 years.



The highest temperatures, as recorded via the chemical record of deep-core Greenland glaciers, were during the height of the Roman Empire. Obviously, this was due to Nero's fiddling while Rome burned fossil fuels.

Over a longer-term view, the relative stability of the global temperature during the most recent interglacial period is more pronounced.



Again, current global temperatures are roughly around the median temperature of the past 10,000 years. Thag the caveman must have had a Buick.

Now let us look at the past 100,000 years, so that we understood how good we've had it as humans—there wasn't a bikini season for the previous 90,000 years.



"Ah-hah!" I can hear Global Warming true believers shouting. "See how the rise of human civilization coincides with global warming? Die, Heretic!" Rest assured I will at some point, but it most likely won't be because of global warming, as an even longer view reveals. Let's look back 420,000 years.



I'm pretty sure we weren't burning many fossil fuels way back when, as "we" didn't exist.

Once again, global temperatures seem to be part of a natural, poorly understood cycle, and our current interglacial period seems ominously close to being at an end.

I'll now turn you over to Drs. Richard A. Muller and Gordon J. MacDonald, whose charts I've been so shamelessly borrowing thus far from the introduction of Ice Ages and Astronomical Causes: data, spectral analysis, and mechanisms, for the big let down for the Global Warming Faithful.


From this plot, it is clear that most of the last 420 thousand years (420 kyr) was spent in ice age. The brief periods when the record peaks above the zero line, the interglacials, typically lasted from a few thousand to perhaps twenty thousand years.

These data should frighten you. All of civilization developed during the last interglacial, and the data show that such interglacials are very brief. Our time looks about up. Data such as these are what led us to state, in the Preface, that the next ice age is about to hit us, any millennium now. It does not take a detailed theory to make this prediction. We don't necessarily know why the next ice age is imminent (at least on a geological time scale), but the pattern is unmistakable.

The real reason to be frightened is that we really don't understand what causes the pattern. We don't know why the ice ages are broken by the short interglacials. We do know something – that the driving force is astronomical. We’ll describe how we know that in Chapter 2. We have models that relate the astronomical mechanisms to changes in climate, but we don't know which of our models are right, or if any of them are. We will discuss these models in some detail in this book. Much of the work of understanding lies in the future. It is a great field for a young student to enter.

Muller and MacDonald end their book's introduction noting that we'll probably see gradual rises in temperature through the middle of this century, but the historical record suggests that it is a cooling, nor a warming, that is in the Earth's future, and that the mechanisms are not understood, clearly predate human influence, and that there is absolutely nothing we can do about it.

Feel free to disagree. However, as you run to higher ground, please just leave me the keys to the beach house, will you?

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 09:19 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 915 words, total size 6 kb.

June 06, 2008

JUNE 6, 1944. Patton: Links in a Great Chain

[Repost]




General George S. Patton's Normandy Invasion Speech:


"Be Seated."

"Men, this stuff we hear about America wanting to stay out of the war, not wanting to fight, is a lot of bullshit. Americans love to fight - traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble player; the fastest runner; the big league ball players; the toughest boxers. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans despise cowards. Americans play to win - all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost, not ever will lose a war, for the very thought of losing is hateful to an American."

"You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Every man is frightened at first in battle. If he says he isn't, he's a goddamn liar. Some men are cowards, yes! But they fight just the same, or get the hell shamed out of them watching men who do fight who are just as scared. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some get over their fright in a minute under fire, some take an hour. For some it takes days. But the real man never lets fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to this country and his innate manhood."

"All through your army career you men have bitched about "This chickenshit drilling." That is all for a purpose. Drilling and discipline must be maintained in any army if for only one reason -- INSTANT OBEDIENCE TO ORDERS AND TO CREATE CONSTANT ALERTNESS. I don't give a damn for a man who is not always on his toes. You men are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready. A man to continue breathing must be alert at all times. If not, sometime a German son-of-a-bitch will sneak up behind him and beat him to death with a sock full of shit."

"There are 400 neatly marked graves somewhere in Sicily all because one man went to sleep on his job -- but they were German graves for we caught the bastard asleep before his officers did. An Army is a team. Lives, sleeps, eats, fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is a lot of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that kind of stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don't know any more about real fighting, under fire, than they do about fucking. We have the best food, the finest equipment, the best spirit and the best fighting men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity these poor sons-of-bitches we are going up against. By God, I do!"

"My men don't surrender. I don't want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he is hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight. That's not just bullshit, either. The kind of man I want under me is like the lieutenant in Libya, who, with a Lugar against his chest, jerked off his helmet, swept the gun aside with one hand and busted hell out of the Boche with the helmet. Then he jumped on the gun and went out and killed another German: All this with a bullet through his lung. That's a man for you."

"All real heroes are not story book combat fighters either. Every man in the army plays a vital part. Every little job is essential. Don't ever let down, thinking your role is unimportant. Every man has a job to do. Every man is a link in the great chain. What if every truck driver decided that he didn't like the whine of the shells overhead, turned yellow and jumped headlong into the ditch? He could say to himself, "They won't miss me -- just one in thousands." What if every man said that? Where in hell would we be now? No, thank God, Americans don't say that! Every man does his job; every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit, is important to the vast scheme of things. The Ordnance men are needed to supply the guns, the Quartermaster to bring up the food and clothes to us -- for where we're going there isn't a hell of a lot to steal. Every last man in the mess hall, even the one who heats the water to keep us from getting the GI shits has a job to do. Even the chaplain is important, for if we get killed and if he is not there to bury us we'd all go to hell."

"Each man must not only think of himself, but of his buddy fighting beside him. We don't want yellow cowards in this army. They should all be killed off like flies. If not they will go back home after the war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed brave men. Kill off the goddamn cowards and we'll have a nation of brave men."

"One of the bravest men I ever saw in the African campaign was the fellow I saw on top of a telegraph pole in the midst of furious fire while we were plowing toward Tunis. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing up there at that time. He answered, "Fixing the wire, sir." "Isn't it a little unhealthy right now?," I asked. "Yes sir, but this goddamn wire's got to be fixed." There was a real soldier. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how great the odds, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time."

"You should have seen those trucks on the road to Gabes. The drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching roads, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with shells bursting around them all the time. We got through on good old American guts. Many of these men drove over forty consecutive hours. These weren't combat men. But they were soldiers with a job to do. They did it -- and in a whale of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without them the fight would have been lost. All the links in the chain pulled together and that chain became unbreakable."

"Don't forget, you don't know I'm here. No word of the fact is to be mentioned in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell became of me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this Army. I'm not even supposed to be in England. Let the first bastards to find out be the goddamn Germans. Someday I want them to raise up on their hind legs and howl, 'Jesus Christ, it's the goddamn Third Army and that son-of-a-bitch Patton again.'"

"We want to get the hell over there. We want to get over there and clear the goddamn thing up. You can't win a war lying down. The quicker we clean up this goddamn mess, the quicker we can take a jaunt against the purple pissing Japs an clean their nest out too, before the Marines get all the goddamn credit."

"Sure, we all want to be home. We want this thing over with. The quickest way to get it over is to get the bastards. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we go home. The shortest way home is through Berlin. When a man is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, a Boche will get him eventually, and the hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My men don't dig foxholes. I don't want them to. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to dig one. We'll win this war but we'll win it only by fighting and by showing the Germans we've got more guts than they have."

"There is one great thing you men will all be able to say when you go home. You may thank God for it. Thank God, that at least, thirty years from now, when you are sitting around the fireside with your grandson on your knees, and he asks you what you did in the great war, you won't have to cough and say, 'I shoveled shit in Louisiana.' No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, 'Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Third Army and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-Bitch named George Patton!'"

"That is all."

God Bless the veterans of the Great Crusade launched on this day in Normandy, France in 1944, and the soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen that today carry on that same fighting spirit.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 10:02 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 1500 words, total size 8 kb.

April 19, 2008

Happy Patriots Day

On this day in 1775, the minutemen first stood their ground and started a revolution. Jules Crittenden compiles a series of first-hand accounts in April Morning.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 09:00 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 32 words, total size 1 kb.

November 11, 2007

Veterans Day Repost: Thirteen Folds

Originally posted on Nov 11, 2005



Our church was honored this past weekend when three American soldiers presented our congregation with a flag in recognition of the small acts we have performed for our military at home and aboard. As they presented the flag, the sergeant leading the detail explained the significance of each fold.

Via US History.org:

  1. The first fold of our flag is a symbol of life.
  2. The second fold is a symbol of our belief in the eternal life.
  3. The third fold is made in honor and remembrance of the veteran departing our ranks who gave a portion of life for the defense of our country to attain a peace throughout the world.
  4. The fourth fold represents our weaker nature, for as American citizens trusting in God, it is to Him we turn in times of peace as well as in times of war for His divine guidance.
  5. The fifth fold is a tribute to our country, for in the words of Stephen Decatur, "Our country, in dealing with other countries,
    may she always be right; but it is still our country, right or wrong."
  6. The sixth fold is for where our hearts lie. It is with our heart that we pledge llegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it tands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
  7. The seventh fold is a tribute to our Armed Forces, for it is through the Armed Forces that we protect our country and our flag against all her enemies, whether they be found within or without the boundaries of our republic.
  8. The eighth fold is a tribute to the one who entered in to the valley of the shadow of death, that we might see the light of day, and to honor mother, for whom it flies on Mother's Day.
  9. The ninth fold is a tribute to womanhood; for it has been through their faith, love, loyalty and devotion that the character of the men and women who have made this country great have been molded.
  10. The tenth fold is a tribute to father, for he, too, has given his sons and daughters for the defense of our country since they were first born.
  11. The eleventh fold, in the eyes of a Hebrew citizen, represents the lower portion of the seal of King David and King Solomon, and glorifies, in their eyes, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
  12. The twelfth fold, in the eyes of a Christian citizen,
    represents an emblem of eternity and glorifies, in their eyes, God the Father, the Son, and Holy Ghost.
  13. When the flag is completely folded, the stars are uppermost, reminding us of our national motto, "In God we Trust."

A sincere thanks to all of you who have served our nation's military.

Your sacrifices are not forgotten.

Update: Jonn Lilyea (Sergeant First Class, US Army-Retired) has a post from Arlington National Cemetery, including video of the wreath-laying at the Tomb of the Unknowns over at This Ain't Hell.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 12:22 PM | Comments (24) | Add Comment
Post contains 512 words, total size 3 kb.

July 04, 2007

Happy Independence Day


Reagan Flag


For one who was born and grew up in the small towns of the Midwest, there is a special kind of nostalgia about the Fourth of July.

I remember it as a day almost as long-anticipated as Christmas. This was helped along by the appearance in store windows of all kinds of fireworks and colorful posters advertising them with vivid pictures.

No later than the third of July - sometimes earlier - Dad would bring home what he felt he could afford to see go up in smoke and flame. We'd count and recount the number of firecrackers, display pieces and other things and go to bed determined to be up with the sun so as to offer the first, thunderous notice of the Fourth of July.

I'm afraid we didn't give too much thought to the meaning of the day. And, yes, there were tragic accidents to mar it, resulting from careless handling of the fireworks. I'm sure we're better off today with fireworks largely handled by professionals. Yet there was a thrill never to be forgotten in seeing a tin can blown 30 feet in the air by a giant "cracker" - giant meaning it was about 4 inches long.

But enough of nostalgia. Somewhere in our growing up we began to be aware of the meaning of days and with that awareness came the birth of patriotism. July Fourth is the birthday of our nation. I believed as a boy, and believe even more today, that it is the birthday of the greatest nation on earth.

There is a legend about the day of our nation's birth in the little hall in Philadelphia, a day on which debate had raged for hours. The men gathered there were honorable men hard-pressed by a king who had flouted the very laws they were willing to obey. Even so, to sign the Declaration of Independence was such an irretrievable act that the walls resounded with the words "treason, the gallows, the headsman's axe," and the issue remained in doubt.

The legend says that at that point a man rose and spoke. He is described as not a young man, but one who had to summon all his energy for an impassioned plea. He cited the grievances that had brought them to this moment and finally, his voice falling, he said, "They may turn every tree into a gallows, every hole into a grave, and yet the words of that parchment can never die. To the mechanic in the workshop, they will speak hope; to the slave in the mines, freedom. Sign that parchment. Sign if the next moment the noose is around your neck, for that parchment will be the textbook of freedom, the Bible of the rights of man forever."

He fell back exhausted. The 56 delegates, swept up by his eloquence, rushed forward and signed that document destined to be as immortal as a work of man can be. When they turned to thank him for his timely oratory, he was not to be found, nor could any be found who knew who he was or how he had come in or gone out through the locked and guarded doors.

Well, that is the legend. But we do know for certain that 56 men, a little band so unique we have never seen their like since, had pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor. Some gave their lives in the war that followed, most gave their fortunes, and all preserved their sacred honor.

What manner of men were they? Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists, 11 were merchants and tradesmen, and nine were farmers. They were soft-spoken men of means and education; they were not an unwashed rabble. They had achieved security but valued freedom more. Their stories have not been told nearly enough.

John Hart was driven from the side of his desperately ill wife. For more than a year he lived in the forest and in caves before he returned to find his wife dead, his children vanished, his property destroyed. He died of exhaustion and a broken heart.

Carter Braxton of Virginia lost all his ships, sold his home to pay his debts, and died in rags. And so it was with Ellery, Clymer, Hall, Walton, Gwinnett, Rutledge, Morris, Livingston and Middleton.

Nelson personally urged Washington to fire on his home and destroy it when it became the headquarters for General Cornwallis. Nelson died bankrupt.

But they sired a nation that grew from sea to shining sea. Five million farms, quiet villages, cities that never sleep, 3 million square miles of forest, field, mountain and desert, 227 million people with a pedigree that includes the bloodlines of all the world.

In recent years, however, I've come to think of that day as more than just the birthday of a nation.

It also commemorates the only true philosophical revolution in all history.

Oh, there have been revolutions before and since ours. But those revolutions simply exchanged one set of rules for another. Ours was a revolution that changed the very concept of government.

Let the Fourth of July always be a reminder that here in this land, for the first time, it was decided that man is born with certain God-given rights; that government is only a convenience created and managed by the people, with no powers of its own except those voluntarily granted to it by the people.

We sometimes forget that great truth, and we never should.

Happy Fourth of July.

Ronald Reagan
President of the United States
1981


Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 08:23 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 932 words, total size 5 kb.

June 07, 2007

Breaking Memo: Trapped in Fruitless Quagmire with Insurgents, President Considers Withdrawl

Oh, wait a minute. I might have read that too quickly.

It seems that the memo was from 1864, the President was Lincoln, and he told Meade to attack-attack-ATTACK until Lee's Army of Northern Virginia was destroyed, even as "peace Democrats" (gee, this sounds familiar) advocated for surrender and withdrawal.

I wonder if there is some sort of lesson to be learned here.... nah.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 06:14 PM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
Post contains 86 words, total size 1 kb.

June 06, 2007

A Link in a Great Chain [Repost]




General George S. Patton's Normandy Invasion Speech:


"Be Seated."

"Men, this stuff we hear about America wanting to stay out of the war, not wanting to fight, is a lot of bullshit. Americans love to fight - traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble player; the fastest runner; the big league ball players; the toughest boxers. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans despise cowards. Americans play to win - all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost, not ever will lose a war, for the very thought of losing is hateful to an American."

"You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Every man is frightened at first in battle. If he says he isn't, he's a goddamn liar. Some men are cowards, yes! But they fight just the same, or get the hell shamed out of them watching men who do fight who are just as scared. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some get over their fright in a minute under fire, some take an hour. For some it takes days. But the real man never lets fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to this country and his innate manhood."

"All through your army career you men have bitched about "This chickenshit drilling." That is all for a purpose. Drilling and discipline must be maintained in any army if for only one reason -- INSTANT OBEDIENCE TO ORDERS AND TO CREATE CONSTANT ALERTNESS. I don't give a damn for a man who is not always on his toes. You men are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready. A man to continue breathing must be alert at all times. If not, sometime a German son-of-a-bitch will sneak up behind him and beat him to death with a sock full of shit."

"There are 400 neatly marked graves somewhere in Sicily all because one man went to sleep on his job -- but they were German graves for we caught the bastard asleep before his officers did. An Army is a team. Lives, sleeps, eats, fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is a lot of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that kind of stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don't know any more about real fighting, under fire, than they do about fucking. We have the best food, the finest equipment, the best spirit and the best fighting men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity these poor sons-of-bitches we are going up against. By God, I do!"

"My men don't surrender. I don't want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he is hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight. That's not just bullshit, either. The kind of man I want under me is like the lieutenant in Libya, who, with a Lugar against his chest, jerked off his helmet, swept the gun aside with one hand and busted hell out of the Boche with the helmet. Then he jumped on the gun and went out and killed another German: All this with a bullet through his lung. That's a man for you."

"All real heroes are not story book combat fighters either. Every man in the army plays a vital part. Every little job is essential. Don't ever let down, thinking your role is unimportant. Every man has a job to do. Every man is a link in the great chain. What if every truck driver decided that he didn't like the whine of the shells overhead, turned yellow and jumped headlong into the ditch? He could say to himself, "They won't miss me -- just one in thousands." What if every man said that? Where in hell would we be now? No, thank God, Americans don't say that! Every man does his job; every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit, is important to the vast scheme of things. The Ordnance men are needed to supply the guns, the Quartermaster to bring up the food and clothes to us -- for where we're going there isn't a hell of a lot to steal. Every last man in the mess hall, even the one who heats the water to keep us from getting the GI shits has a job to do. Even the chaplain is important, for if we get killed and if he is not there to bury us we'd all go to hell."

"Each man must not only think of himself, but of his buddy fighting beside him. We don't want yellow cowards in this army. They should all be killed off like flies. If not they will go back home after the war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed brave men. Kill off the goddamn cowards and we'll have a nation of brave men."

"One of the bravest men I ever saw in the African campaign was the fellow I saw on top of a telegraph pole in the midst of furious fire while we were plowing toward Tunis. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing up there at that time. He answered, "Fixing the wire, sir." "Isn't it a little unhealthy right now?," I asked. "Yes sir, but this goddamn wire's got to be fixed." There was a real soldier. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how great the odds, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time."

"You should have seen those trucks on the road to Gabes. The drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching roads, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with shells bursting around them all the time. We got through on good old American guts. Many of these men drove over forty consecutive hours. These weren't combat men. But they were soldiers with a job to do. They did it -- and in a whale of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without them the fight would have been lost. All the links in the chain pulled together and that chain became unbreakable."

"Don't forget, you don't know I'm here. No word of the fact is to be mentioned in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell became of me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this Army. I'm not even supposed to be in England. Let the first bastards to find out be the goddamn Germans. Someday I want them to raise up on their hind legs and howl, 'Jesus Christ, it's the goddamn Third Army and that son-of-a-bitch Patton again.'"

"We want to get the hell over there. We want to get over there and clear the goddamn thing up. You can't win a war lying down. The quicker we clean up this goddamn mess, the quicker we can take a jaunt against the purple pissing Japs an clean their nest out too, before the Marines get all the goddamn credit."

"Sure, we all want to be home. We want this thing over with. The quickest way to get it over is to get the bastards. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we go home. The shortest way home is through Berlin. When a man is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, a Boche will get him eventually, and the hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My men don't dig foxholes. I don't want them to. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to dig one. We'll win this war but we'll win it only by fighting and by showing the Germans we've got more guts than they have."

"There is one great thing you men will all be able to say when you go home. You may thank God for it. Thank God, that at least, thirty years from now, when you are sitting around the fireside with your grandson on your knees, and he asks you what you did in the great war, you won't have to cough and say, 'I shoveled shit in Louisiana.' No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, 'Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Third Army and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-Bitch named George Patton!'"

"That is all."

God Bless the veterans of the Great Crusade launched on this day in Normandy, France in 1944, and the soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen that today carry on that same fighting spirit.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 02:23 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 1494 words, total size 8 kb.

May 28, 2007

This Memorial Day... (Bumped)

Enjoy your vacation, but always, remember them.


arlington

Also: The lyrics from Trace Atkins' tribute, Arlington (Video available here).


I never thought that this is where I'd settle down.
I thought I'd die an old man back in my hometown.
They gave me this plot of land,
Me and some other men, for a job well done.

There's a big White House sits on a hill just up the road.
The man inside, he cried the day they brought me home.
They folded up a flag and told my Mom and Dad:
"We're proud of your son."

And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property.
I'm on sacred ground and I'm in the best of company.
I'm thankful for those thankful for the things I've done.
I can rest in peace;
I'm one of the chosen ones:
I made it to Arlington.

I remember Daddy brought me here when I was eight.
We searched all day to find out where my grand-dad lay.
And when we finally found that cross,
He said: "Son, this is what it cost to keep us free."

Now here I am, a thousand stones away from him.
He recognized me on the first day I came in.
And it gave me a chill when he clicked his heels,
And saluted me.

And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property.
I'm on sacred ground and I'm in the best of company.
I'm thankful for those thankful for the things I've done.
I can rest in peace;
I'm one of the chosen ones:
I made it to Arlington.

And everytime I hear twenty-one guns,
I know they brought another hero home to us.

And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property.
I'm on sacred ground and I'm in the best of company.
We're thankful for those thankful for the things we've done.
We can rest in peace;
'Cause we are the chosen ones:
We made it to Arlington.

Yeah, dust to dust,
Don't cry for us:
We made it to Arlington.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 09:53 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 348 words, total size 2 kb.

January 03, 2007

Now That You Mention it, Yes, Mine is Bigger Than Yours...

A little Presidential Directive here, a little tug there, and my friend Ward Brewer becomes the first blogger with a military vessel of his very own.


dd574

The ship you see is the E-01 Cuitlahuac, formerly and soon again to be the DD 574 John Rogers, the longest-serving of the World War II-era Fletcher-class destroyers.

Ward will restore the ship into a floating museum, or begin pillaging, depending on his mood.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 10:25 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 92 words, total size 1 kb.

November 29, 2006

Treacherous Sands

Got any idea how many times the balance of power has shifted in the Middle East over the past 5000 years, or how many empires have risen, rules, and fallen over the region?

See 5,000 years of history in 90 seconds, courtesy of Maps of War:




Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 08:39 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 50 words, total size 1 kb.

November 10, 2006

Veteran's Day With Doolittle's Raiders

Michelle Malkin interviews some the surviving Doolittle Raiders and Hornet crewmen over at Hot Air.

Background on the Raiders here, and here.

A special thanks to these brave veterans, the other 25 million surviving veterans of past wars, and the millions of soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines that served before them to to ensure our freedoms.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 11:39 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 66 words, total size 1 kb.

September 11, 2006

Day of Denial

Today more than any other in the past five years, the Left continues to reveal how much they despise the essence of America.

They continue to mock the moment when our President found out that a sneak attack broader in scope and scale than Pearl Harbor was under way. They mock him for showing the same shock and dismay we all felt. They mock him for being moved near to tears as the realization set in that thousands of innocent Americans were dead or dying and that he, the most powerful single man on the planet, was powerless to stop it.

They belittle our pain as a nation, as if only those who had direct friends and family die had a right to grieve, feel pain, or remorse, or anger and resolve.

They lash out against those who do remember what happened under that bright blue September sky, and preemptively lash out against those who would remember future attacks before they've even come to pass.

They refer to memorial services as pornography, and seek to belittle every remembrance, every solemn moment, every tear, every voice raised in anger.

Well, not every voice.

They have plenty of time for their rage and anger. Anger that their peace and love and puppies plan for world peace came crashing down along with aircraft aluminum and structural steel and glass and human bodies that day in Manhattan, Washington, and Shanksville.

Five years later, American Democrats have more hate in their hearts for their own President than they do for the terrorists that killed almost 3,000 of their countrymen. They refuse to confront terrorism. Some would rather blame America and the world they think they understand, rather than face up to the fact that the world we all thought we knew was just an illusion. They are in catastrophic psychological denial, and cannot face the fact that "the other" they have spent their lives providing moral equivalence for were the ones who attacked our country.

It is so much easier to blame Bush than face the fact that we were attacked because we are the beacon of freedom for the world, and the greatest threat to radical Islam. It is so much easier to blame Bush, than realize that decades of denial led us to that horrific moment. If they can only blame Bush for that day—and every day since that their worldview has been shown to be vapid, self-serving, and a fraud—then their denial can go on, and "reality-based community" can continue to live in a world that has refuses to learn, to adapt, to change.

The Left refuses to learn from 9/11 and knows no way forward. It is why they grasp so insistently to the past, clinging to what was and what might have been, instead of moving forward to forcefully determine what should be and what must be done to secure our freedoms for the future. It is they that childishly insist for the "Perfect War" theory, stating a belief that any war not fought with perfect foresight and accuracy is wrong, while knowing securely no war has ever met their standard.

They show that they hate the present and don't understand the lessons of the recent past. They strive for stagnation and stasis and blaming ourselves, but they offer no hope for the future.

They blame Americans for radical Islamic plans for world domination. They vilify our troops instead of the terrorists they fight. They attack western governments fighting for freedom instead of eastern governments and the terrorists they sponsor that are fighting for oppression and destruction of our way of life.

The Left offers America and true liberalism a death sentence, seeking to repeat the failed policies of 30 years in denial.

We will not listen to them again.

That, perhaps, is their greatest fear of all.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 12:57 PM | Comments (155) | Add Comment
Post contains 644 words, total size 4 kb.

Five Years After

Five years ago this morning, a mid-air collision nearly took place over my home in New Windsor, New York. I wish it had. One of the planes was American Airlines Flight 11. The other was United Airlines Flight 175.

Pajamas Media provides the old and new media round-up of the day that changed our reality, Five Years After.

Update: That was then, this is now:


Five years on, a psychosis has gripped millions who can't and won't fathom the true nature of the war we are in. For many of them, having been born and raised in an essentially post-Christian West, they can't imagine that anyone might be motivated to kill and die because of something a warlord wrote down centuries ago. They cannot imagine any religion other than the one they believe they have outgrown being violent or causing violence. They cannot imagine anyone fighting for a cause that offers no material gains and therefore cannot be negotiated away. In our essentially materialist West, millions lack the imagination to believe that bin Laden's pining for the return of Andalusia to Muslim rule is in his mind a legitimate reason to wage war on America now. They can imagine their own countrymen being so motivated, though, and I think that's key to understanding their state of mind. They can imagine the Rotary Club member down the street plotting mayhem because he goes to church and votes Republican, but they can't imagine that the Muslim in Karachi is a real, live enemy who is actually plotting an attack.

This lack of imagination has bred the anti-war madness we have now. Rather than accept the reality of an enemy that cannot and therefore will not negotiate away what he believes to be the will of God, and rather than accept that this enemy will understand nothing outside total victory or total defeat, and rather than understand that this enemy's goals include enslaving the entire world in a global caliphate, and rather than accept that this reality necessitates the use of all tools including military might to defend ourselves, millions have embraced an alternate reality. The reality of the enemy outside the West and its motivations being too terrifying and too far beyond their own control, millions now imagine that the enemy in this war is within. The enemy, to them, isn't the turbaned man behind the plot to hijack multiple airplanes and crash them into multiple buildings in America. The real enemy, to these millions, is the man in the Oval Office, and the man or men behind him.

Read the tagline above, folks.

Because liberalism is a persistent vegetative state.

It wasn't chosen lightly,and continues to manifest itself to this day.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 06:14 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 456 words, total size 3 kb.

August 21, 2006

Goodbye, Joe

Via CNN:

Photographer Joe Rosenthal, who won a Pulitzer Prize for his immortal image of six World War II servicemen raising an American flag over battle-scarred Iwo Jima, died Sunday. He was 94.

Rosenthal died of natural causes at an assisted living facility in the San Francisco suburb of Novato, said his daughter, Anne Rosenthal.

"He was a good and honest man, he had real integrity," Anne Rosenthal said.

His photo, taken for The Associated Press on Feb. 23, 1945, became the model for the Iwo Jima Memorial near Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia. The memorial, dedicated in 1954 and known officially as the Marine Corps War Memorial, commemorates the Marines who died taking the Pacific island in World War II.


iwo-jima-flag

Update: The insipid nature of the anti-war left rears its misshapen head once more, as the malecontents at Sadly No! and their friends at Salon.com's Daou Report see my mention of Joe Rosenthal's passing as a chance to attack both myself and for some odd reason, Rosenthal. To using the passing of an iconic American photographer to attack a relatively obscure blogger betrays a pettiness I personally find repulsive and a bit unsettling, but sadly, par for the course. My response to Sadly No! in the comments of that site are as follows:


So the great “Sadly No!” catch of hypocrisy is what, exactly?

Some have postulated over the years that Joe Rosenthal somehow staged the second flag raising on Iwo Jima, yet not one human soul have ever been able to provide the first shred of proof that the allegations they raised were true, as even your own cited sources concur.

This is in stark contrast to copious evidence that some (I never said nor implied all, as you scurrilously and inaccurately charge) media photographers in Lebanon staged photos, and individual photos by several others were left suspect. No less an authority on photojournalism than David Perlmutter, a man who quite literally “wrote the book” on photojournalism, has come out strongly condemning the actions of these photographers and the media organizations that they represent in Editor & Publisher.

I've only played a small role in exposing some of the photojournalist fraud coming from Lebanon, but I am proud of the work I've done, as is Perlmutter, and at least one major combat photojournalist (a Pulitzer nominee, I may add) who has stated to me privately in e-mail that he is impressed with my ability to catch some of the things I've noticed in staged and biased photojournalism coming from Lebanon.

That you would try to make a comparison between the unproven and mostly discredited charges against Rosenthal that even your own sources cannot support, and the very real and proven charges that have been levied against some Lebanese war photographers, shows a sloppiness in thinking here that quite frankly, I've come to expect.

Not surprisingly, none of the commentors there has a substantive rebuttal.

Update 2:

Via email, from David D. Perlmutter, by permission:


The overwhelming evidence, including the testimony of everyone present at the flag-raisings--both of them--was that the photograph that has become the famous icon was NOT staged. In brief, what happened was that Rosenthal took a series of still pictures of both flag-raisings. At the same time, a movie cameraman recorded the full event. The second flag-raising occurred because the first flag was too small to be seen by Marines and other military personnel throughout the island and at sea. Joe Rosenthal did not ask anyone to raise a flag, did not pose anyone raising a flag, and the second flag would have been raised in same way even if there had been no photographers present. In other words, it was 100 percent NOT a staged photo. The complication occurred because at that time photographers rarely developed their own film in the field. Rosenthal put the role in a can and sent it off for developing. Subsequently, the picture of the second flag-raising, the shot that we now recognize as the great icon, became a sensation. Rosenthal, caught up in the battle, knew nothing about his own success. Weeks later, when told that one of his photographs had become celebrated, he assumed that the questioner referred to another photograph in which the military personnel posed around the flag and talked about it as one he helped set up. Unfortunately, even though the error was corrected very quickly, it has become a data virus in the history of photojournalism. I will add that it is also a very hurtful error, both to the men who raised the flag--some of whom were killed in the battle in the days to follow--and to a sensitive and decent photojournalist. As an added note, as any working Photog can tell you, the photo violates some basic schoolbook rules of photojournalism, so, for example, he would have gotten more faces in “staged” image.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 06:10 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 816 words, total size 6 kb.

July 29, 2006

Turtle Eggs and Cannons


abbeyroad

"Abbey Road, Mexico." (l to r) Sean Quigley, John Donovan, Ward Brewer, and John Nowakowski, half of "Brewer's Bandits" on the DD-574/E-01 in Lazaro Cardenas. Mk4 20mm cannon in the foreground.
Photo filched from Rob Harshbarger.

John Donovan of Argghhh! and the rest of Ward Brewer's crew are getting a lot of work done on the John Rodgers/Cúitlahuac as they continue to prep the destroyer to take the long trip from Mexico's west coast to Mobile Bay. The Mexican Navy is taking great care of them... perhaps too good of care of them. I'm jealous.

Read the latest posts at Argghhh! here and here to find out why.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 12:08 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 116 words, total size 1 kb.

July 27, 2006

Bringing the Rogers Home-Day 1

Ward Brewer and his team from Beauchamp Tower Corporation (Operation Enduring Service web site, blog) have arrived in Mexico City on the first leg of their trip to bring home the DD-574 John Rogers/E-01 Cuitlahuac (photos from NavSource Online), the longest-serving of the World War II-era Fletcher-class destroyers.


dd574


AA Action view from CVA-8 Hornet 14 May 1945 of kamikaze exploding over John Rogers (John Chiquoine via NavSource Online)

They will push on today to Lázaro Cárdenas, a Mexican port city in the state of Michoacán, where the John Rogers is currently berthed.

The blogging community is very lucky to have an exclusive on the repatriation of the Rogers, with milblogger John Donovan reporting in on Argghh!, and his first post form Mexico is already online.

Read it here.

I'll hope to have some additional commentary posted here on Confederate Yankee, and my brother phin will be chiming in as well, which isn't necessarily a good thing. He promised to reveal "deep, dark secrets" about me to Ward and John in exchange for the recipe for the Avocado Ranch dressing they use to lace the fish tacos he got addicted to on his business trips to the southwest.

Whatever the charge, I maintain my innocence, and will remind my dear brother that that particular street runs both ways.

Update: John has another post here, and the first pic.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 08:21 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 237 words, total size 2 kb.

July 25, 2006

The Longest Trip Home

Long-time readers of this site know that one of my pet interests is Operation Enduring Service, an effort of not-for-profit Beauchamp Tower Corporation to make the best practical use of retired U.S naval vessels currently facing the cutting torches of scrapyards.

Most of my focus has been on one aspect of OES, the creation of a disaster response fleet I long ago dubbed the "Salvation Navy." Negotiations for that part of the program are currently being worked out at the highest levels of state and federal government, but another part of the program hasn't received as much attention, and that is the restoration of World War II-era warships, beginning with the DD-574 John Rogers, the last of the serving Fletcher-class destroyers.

DD-574 John Rogers served in the Pacific theater of World War II, serving in raids and amphibious landings in places with names like Tarawa, Wake Island, Bougainville, Kwajalein Atoll, and Guam, where Rogers fired more than 3,600 shells to knock out Japanense defenses. Rogers also served of Iwo Jima and the invasion of Okinawa, and in July of 1945, participated in what was the deepest naval penetration of the war. Destroyer Division 25's anti-shipping sweep that came within 1½ miles of the Japanese shoreline. John Rogers steamed into Toyko Bay in September of 1945, having fought in almost every major offensive campaign of the Pacific theater.

John Rogers was decommissioned after the war like many destroyers, and was transferred to Mexico in 1968. The destroyer was renamed the E-01 Cuitlahuac in honor of the Aztec emperor. On July 16, 2002, more than 60 years after being launched, the longest-serving Fletcher was retired by the Mexican Navy.

But that was not to be the end of the story.

On December 7, 2005, 65 years to the day that the Japanese launched an attack on Pearl Harbor plunging America into World War II, CEO Ward Brewer of Beauchamp Tower Corporation signed a transfer agreement to return the ship to American hands.

Tomorrow, Ward Brewer's team from BTC, milblogger John Donovan of Argghhh!, and documentary film crew will fly to Mexico to tow John Rogers from the Mexican Pacific coast to the shipyard in Mobile, Alabama where the last serving Fletcher-class destroyer will be restored for future genrations.

In the coming days, follow the story of the Rogers repatriation at Argghhh!, starting with John's first post, A Series of Fortuitous Events. I'll also have commentary here at Confederate Yankee.

It has been 63 years since the DD-574 was launched on the Texas Gulf Coast, but the John Rogers is finally beginning the longest trip home.

Update: The Operation Enduring Service Weblog is back up and running at a new address: http://www.btconline.us/mt.

Posted by: Confederate Yankee at 11:08 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 457 words, total size 3 kb.

<< Page 1 of 2 >>
293kb generated in CPU 0.0442, elapsed 0.1257 seconds.
70 queries taking 0.0936 seconds, 435 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.