By lex, on December 29, 2006
Tedium my friends, is the end of human decency, and there was a fair bit of tedium to be found on the line during the Cold War. We’d sail around the world, ever ready for any contingency but quite unwilling to offend anyone, tip-toeing around off shore, always careful not to kick the can over on that whole global, thermonuclear war thing. Because of the nuclear winter that was in it.
What joy there was for a strike fighter pilot in the late 80’s consisted of deeds of epic personal heroism in port during all-too-rare quality of life visits – the kind of things you didn’t write home about – and the very unlikely chance that your battle group might be called up for one of those very occasional, but classically Navy, drive-by shootings*.
By lex, on December 27th, 2006
It’s always interesting to come home again, even if you never really can “go home” again. The neighborhood I grew up in was mature when I was young, and it hasn’t much changed in the intervening decades. Oh, the storefronts have all been gentrified down in the commercial: The old deli is replaced by a bistro now, and where Howard Johnson’s used to stand we now have an office building. The cinema that used to show second run films that everyone had already seen has been gutted and replaced by a multiplex that shows limited release foreign films that no one ever goes to see.
By lex, on November 18th, 2006
I think there’s money to be made – maybe even a book to be written – about the motivations people have for blogging and commenting on blogs. I have to admit that that I enjoy the pleasure of the well-turned phrase almost as much as I enjoy the thoughts of those who would use that construct for their own experiences. I write, others comment, we all learn a bit about the world around us – we see a single facet of reality through the prism of a different point of view.
But only slightly different for the most part. The information/entertainment market has become so highly segmented that each of us has a place to go where we know that we’ll be welcome. We tend to congregate there, among others who are mostly like-minded. We are comfortable.
But it’s the differences that make it fun, isn’t it?
Well, yes. Up to a point.
In his controversial article ‘Dismantling the Spitfire myth’ Matthew Willis asserted that the Spitfire’s role in British history is hugely over-stated. Jon Lake countered by defending its reputation in ‘Spitfire’s Revenge’. Now in the third part of a fascinating debate, Willis hits back.
Challenging the Spitfire is, due to its iconic status, always going to be a difficult thing to do. Nevertheless, after reading Jon Lake’s response to my earlier piece, I continue to assert that the Spitfire’s place in the history of World War II should be challenged.
If I might first answer the charge of ‘revisionist nonsense‘. On the second point (of it being nonsense), it’s not for me to say. On the first, though the word revisionism seems to have become a pejorative term of late, it properly stands for a proper historical re-examination of existing orthodoxy and accepted ideas. If the ideas…
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By lex, on September 19th, 2006
In port we were, between one nameless at sea period and the next, with five beautiful days to spend in sunny Sandy Eggo – a real treat for the high desert warriors of Naval Air Station Lemoore, California.
Lemoore was a wonderful place to learn the trade of flying strike fighters for there were bombing targets and fighting ranges and wide open countryside that a man and his wingman might rage around at, very down low, with never a living soul to complain, or if there was he didn’t have the telephone number of the complaint hot line. As wonderful as it was for learning the Art and Skill of breaking other peoples’ gear and flaming their jets, the better to let the sojers do their thing, it was very far from heaven from the perspective of Other Stuff to Do, once the flying thing was over.
By lex, on September 18th, 2006
Mugger was his name, or his callsign anyway – or very nearly, names having been minimally altered to prevent being placed on somebody’s “People to Kill” list, just in case. He was a drag-knuckle F-14 fighter pilot of the ould mould, flight suit zipped down to his navel, chest thrust pugnaciously out, boots unshined and often even untied, their tongues poking out like labrador puppies from under his pants legs and himself generally displaying but a faint relationship to what was commonly conceived to be a proper and military kind of personal appearance. (I think he was an AOCS graduate.) Never to fret though, for Mugger was thoroughly convinced of his own excellence, implacably certain of himself from tip to top and from long established custom needing little more than a mirror and a little privacy to break down his gruff exterior and have him making soft, cooing noises of appreciation.
By lex, on September 12th, 2006
In primary flight training you learn how to fly. In basic jets, you learn to fly jets, and carrier qual for the first time – day only. In advanced jets you learn how to fly a high performance jet, drop bombs (a little), fight (a little), and CQ again.
When you go to the fleet replacement squadron, you learn to fly the airplane that you’ll fly in the fleet. You’ll learn how to land her at night. But when you get to the fleet?
That’s when you really learn to fight.
I remember coming off target after a training mission in Fallon, Nevada, back in my junior officer days. We’d fought our way in successfully, hit the target with precision, and bugged out of Dodge, putting the spurs to it, hauling the mail.