I had no idea that the Nazi regime had even come up with the concept, let alone worked on building one. Turns out they got about 98% complete with it, but due to politics within the regime, it got shit-canned right at the end by Goering. Really interesting read, however, and the pictures are beautiful…
- Category Archives Navy
So, when I was in the Navy, I was on a ship that was male-only. We simply didn’t have the room for females on board, frankly. I have nothing against women in the Navy, even on the front lines, but the accommodations have to be made for the opposite sexes, or else there will be problems.
That being said, I respect that this guy waited until after he got out of the service before publishing this song. It is pretty darned hilarious.
So, just a couple of quick memories that just got dredged up from my time in the Navy, having to do with berthing aboard the ship…
I was berthed in the RE berthing, complex 13. Specifically, my rack was over by the lounge area of berthing, which meant that if I was going to get any sleep, I had to learn to sleep with people watching television or playing cards or whatever else. And I did.
The two things I am writing about here are these:
1. One day I was very very tired after having been up for the past 24 or 36 hours or something insane like that because of watch, and I simply needed some sleep. I got permission from our chief to rack out for a couple of hours during the day, and it happened to coincide with a field day. I had already done my portion of field day, so I climbed up into my rack and tried to crash. Along came Randy Strader (Snoop for those that knew him) and he starts yelling at me to get out of my rack while they field day. I wasn’t having any of that, and unlike my normal demeanor I basically exploded at him and told him to fuck off, that I had the OK from chief, etc. I think the very fact that I exploded on him was enough for him to back off, because that was behavior very unlike my normal self, because he backed off immediately. Just an interesting memory, I guess.
2. Where you kept your rack was a matter of seniority…. not seniority by rank, but instead seniority by how long you had been there and qualifications. Now, I was a total slacker and took forever to qualify (a different story that I will write about sometime), but I did eventually qualify senior in rate. As such, when the bottom rack in my stack of racks emptied out, I decided to move down there. I had finished moving when another member of our division came along and told me to move out because he was moving in there from RT division. Now, despite him being two ranks above me (he was a 1st class, I a 3rd) I was still senior to him in terms of qualifications, and I stood my ground on that. Based on that, everyone else in the division (including my LPO) backed me on it (Terry Fly is a good guy!) and the interloper backed off. He went back to RT division where he could be king of the roost.
“The future does not belong to those who gather armies on a field of battle or bury missiles in the ground.” – Barack Obama.
Let’s think about this statement now… if a country does NOT gather armies on a field of battle, than any other country is essentially free to come along, gather its’ armies, and essentially take over the country that no longer has any armies to gather.
Yes, it is possible to have an army and not gather it… we do it all the time… but when it comes time to defend your country, you must gather that army. According to Barack we don’t have to do this, and the future does not hold that.
The man is a fool.
The best memory I have of alcohol doing strange things to people was when my ship was pulled into Sandog, and one of my buddies had just received a Dear John letter. He wrote out a big letter back calling his ex all kinds of nasty things, put it in the mail box, then went out on the town to get rip-roaring drunk.
He came back later that night completely gone, and decides that he really doesnâ€™t want to say all of those things to his ex, so he tries to break into the post office and retrieve the letter.
Shore Patrol picked him up trying to scale a barbed wire fence at 2am, returned him to the ship, where he then spent the next 45 days on restriction and lost a chevron.
The kicker? It turns out he had put the letter in the ships mailbox, and it had yet to actually get transferred to the baseâ€™s postal system, so even if he had managed to get into the post office on base, he would never have found the letter.
Just woke up from a nap, and I think I have finally broken the cold. Woke up sweating profusely, etc.
Had a dream earlier in which I was in some sort of boot camp, but there was flooding or something. It was odd. I was in a position where I already knew everything that they were going to teach, but just going through the motions until graduation or something. I wonder if this is telling me something.