Jul. 14th, 2009
Close, but thank God not the real thing
Jul. 14th, 2009 09:02 amI went paintballing on Sunday. My dad used to be a deputy sheriff (he'd still be one, and may decide to do it again... Tennessee, as does Calif., has a program where one can do it as a Reserve Officer; i.e. for free. You have to jump through all the same hoops, get POST certified, etc, but you don't [at least in California] have to spend time as a jailer. There is no functional difference between them, but it saves the county a lot of money. I have a very mixed mind on this, but it's not germaine to the story), and one of his buddies from the department has about half a dozen acres of draw he like to paintball in. He invited us.
It was a good time. The usual mess of not knowing the lay of the land, so the first couple of rounds were learning experiences.
Rules were simple. Two hits and you're out. No requirement for the balls to break. If it lands on the body, it's a hit. Splash, and gear, don't count.
First one out: Two guys in, three guys to flush them. We'd been given a quick lie of the land tour, a fair number of log bunkers and chunks of dead ground. We were in the three. I took some fire from my left (and above), dove right; into some dead ground. Took some more fire from my left front. Spotted the shooter, and got into cover.
I moved up the dead space, while other shooting was going on, but the guy to my left found the time to rain a bunch of balls at me, and the ground wasn't dead enough; which meant I was.
Next round, my dad and I went in. We did it wrong. Too much experience with real lead. If it has been bullets, not paintballs, no contest. Two of them moved up our left. I pinned one, but the other was out of my line of fire. My dad could pepper him, but his placement was completely exposed to the guy who moved upslope. I lay doggo when my dad was killed out.
The two down-draw moved up, nervously, and the one to my right came down. He was doomed. Unless he saw me, there wasn't a chance he was going to make it. All I had to do was not move. He came to where I could see him, and I let him have a volley. One down.
Moved back, fast as ever I could; while balls are whipping past. Got to a rock (actual cover, even if had been live ammo, not paint), and waited. But the odds were not good. One got to where he could put grazing fire over the rock, and the other was able to move up to where he could fire into the space.
Third round, every man for himself. I started in a spot too central. Three of four had nominal shots at me. I didn't last long.
The thing about paintball... it's amazingly like the real thing. The adrenaline is up. The sense of dread is there. The hyper awareness is there. The pounding heart, and the willingness to put up with nuisances (like insects) that normally one would slap and yelp at is there. It's up to about eight on the scale. Not having the real possibility of dying keeps it from getting all the way up.
One guy had to leave. I was limping a bit (I managed to get a cramp in my hip in the second round. As with other things, I didn't notice it when the action was hot and heavy, but in between rounds; well it was double up on the drugs when I got home), but we agreed to one more.
Our host had not been really popped all day. Peppered, and suppressed, but not a single broken ball (helps to know the ground), so he went in, and we were going to flush him. The odds were probably about 50-50. He was defending, there were three of us. He had the choice of when to engage. All we needed to do was maintain supporting relationships, and keep far enough apart to prevent him from suppressing the lot of us with short bursts.
When my dad looked at me to see what the plan was... well it was amusing; he denigrates the Army, as only an old jarhead can, but he didn't hesitate to consider I actually knew the drills.
"We need to go in fast, get wide, and fix him. I'll take the left (up a slope. My father moves heavily, even when he thinks he's being quiet, so that was a bad idea), one of you needs to go up the center, and one up the right. No dawdling".
The kid (20) wanted to "take point", so he went "hey diddle-diddle, straight up the middle,", with my dad on the right. Lets just say the kid's idea of "no dawdling," and mine/my dad's were different.
We went in, and fast to the sides. I was up the hill, and into the bush, as fast as ever I could. I didn't care about noise yet. I actually wanted him to hear me. He wasn't going to fire when the balls couldn't possibly carry to get to me. I went way up. Then in. I'd picked a line I wanted to get to, and then stop. Breath hard in my ears (the masks resonate), and the blood pounding, I moved in. Staring into the brush, looking for the odd bit of flash, angle, or color, trying to spot the cobra lying in wait.
I heard him holler, "I hear you flanker". Good. I slowed down some, but relaxed a bit too. He was on my right, in toward the center. I wasn't going to find him behind one of the bunkers waiting to do to me what I'd done to the kid in the second round. I could see the range limit. I stopped.
And waited. And waited.
And waited. I needed to get in another 10 yards, and downslope, so I could double back and take him from the rear (in technical terms, "embarrass him", honest). For that I needed to be slower and quieter, but I also needed him to be distracted.
Where the hell is my support? Then the sweet sound of gunfire; aimed at someone else. The odds just went from even, to about 4-1. I moved. Irregular steps... don't make even a semi-rhythmic pattern. Once tree to another. Crouching, stepping, lowering, stopping.
.... rattle... I can hear him loading more paint into the hopper. That's a really directional sound. It's not a rattle in the brush. Now I know where to look. There! A bit of motion.
Got him.
Down a little, to where I have a slim tree to get behind. Line up. Breath... relax, and a burst of about eight. "Hit!"
"Are you dead?"
"No," and a blast of balls comes up the hill. I was behind the tree. Conic sections being what they are, I was pretty safe. So I slipped over to the right side, and a quick burst. That one was a little low.
Step back, as the next blast comes up. Move to the left. A couple to keep his concentration from settling. A couple more, to keep him from just aiming to the right side. Back behind the tree as a dozen come ripping up to the leftish. Slide over, aim... and pour it on until he calls himself dead.
My quads ache. My back aches. My abs ache. It's funny. Most of the time is spent on your side, or your belly, or crouched; mostly at rest. But the other 20 percent of the time, it's all out, zero to sixty in a heartbeat. Like a lizard, or a bird, one goes from apparent rest to explosive motion. I have a couple of good hits, but only one bit of real bruising. There used to be a place in Santa Cruz to paintball, may I shall investigate it when I get there.
It was a good time. The usual mess of not knowing the lay of the land, so the first couple of rounds were learning experiences.
Rules were simple. Two hits and you're out. No requirement for the balls to break. If it lands on the body, it's a hit. Splash, and gear, don't count.
First one out: Two guys in, three guys to flush them. We'd been given a quick lie of the land tour, a fair number of log bunkers and chunks of dead ground. We were in the three. I took some fire from my left (and above), dove right; into some dead ground. Took some more fire from my left front. Spotted the shooter, and got into cover.
I moved up the dead space, while other shooting was going on, but the guy to my left found the time to rain a bunch of balls at me, and the ground wasn't dead enough; which meant I was.
Next round, my dad and I went in. We did it wrong. Too much experience with real lead. If it has been bullets, not paintballs, no contest. Two of them moved up our left. I pinned one, but the other was out of my line of fire. My dad could pepper him, but his placement was completely exposed to the guy who moved upslope. I lay doggo when my dad was killed out.
The two down-draw moved up, nervously, and the one to my right came down. He was doomed. Unless he saw me, there wasn't a chance he was going to make it. All I had to do was not move. He came to where I could see him, and I let him have a volley. One down.
Moved back, fast as ever I could; while balls are whipping past. Got to a rock (actual cover, even if had been live ammo, not paint), and waited. But the odds were not good. One got to where he could put grazing fire over the rock, and the other was able to move up to where he could fire into the space.
Third round, every man for himself. I started in a spot too central. Three of four had nominal shots at me. I didn't last long.
The thing about paintball... it's amazingly like the real thing. The adrenaline is up. The sense of dread is there. The hyper awareness is there. The pounding heart, and the willingness to put up with nuisances (like insects) that normally one would slap and yelp at is there. It's up to about eight on the scale. Not having the real possibility of dying keeps it from getting all the way up.
One guy had to leave. I was limping a bit (I managed to get a cramp in my hip in the second round. As with other things, I didn't notice it when the action was hot and heavy, but in between rounds; well it was double up on the drugs when I got home), but we agreed to one more.
Our host had not been really popped all day. Peppered, and suppressed, but not a single broken ball (helps to know the ground), so he went in, and we were going to flush him. The odds were probably about 50-50. He was defending, there were three of us. He had the choice of when to engage. All we needed to do was maintain supporting relationships, and keep far enough apart to prevent him from suppressing the lot of us with short bursts.
When my dad looked at me to see what the plan was... well it was amusing; he denigrates the Army, as only an old jarhead can, but he didn't hesitate to consider I actually knew the drills.
"We need to go in fast, get wide, and fix him. I'll take the left (up a slope. My father moves heavily, even when he thinks he's being quiet, so that was a bad idea), one of you needs to go up the center, and one up the right. No dawdling".
The kid (20) wanted to "take point", so he went "hey diddle-diddle, straight up the middle,", with my dad on the right. Lets just say the kid's idea of "no dawdling," and mine/my dad's were different.
We went in, and fast to the sides. I was up the hill, and into the bush, as fast as ever I could. I didn't care about noise yet. I actually wanted him to hear me. He wasn't going to fire when the balls couldn't possibly carry to get to me. I went way up. Then in. I'd picked a line I wanted to get to, and then stop. Breath hard in my ears (the masks resonate), and the blood pounding, I moved in. Staring into the brush, looking for the odd bit of flash, angle, or color, trying to spot the cobra lying in wait.
I heard him holler, "I hear you flanker". Good. I slowed down some, but relaxed a bit too. He was on my right, in toward the center. I wasn't going to find him behind one of the bunkers waiting to do to me what I'd done to the kid in the second round. I could see the range limit. I stopped.
And waited. And waited.
And waited. I needed to get in another 10 yards, and downslope, so I could double back and take him from the rear (in technical terms, "embarrass him", honest). For that I needed to be slower and quieter, but I also needed him to be distracted.
Where the hell is my support? Then the sweet sound of gunfire; aimed at someone else. The odds just went from even, to about 4-1. I moved. Irregular steps... don't make even a semi-rhythmic pattern. Once tree to another. Crouching, stepping, lowering, stopping.
.... rattle... I can hear him loading more paint into the hopper. That's a really directional sound. It's not a rattle in the brush. Now I know where to look. There! A bit of motion.
Got him.
Down a little, to where I have a slim tree to get behind. Line up. Breath... relax, and a burst of about eight. "Hit!"
"Are you dead?"
"No," and a blast of balls comes up the hill. I was behind the tree. Conic sections being what they are, I was pretty safe. So I slipped over to the right side, and a quick burst. That one was a little low.
Step back, as the next blast comes up. Move to the left. A couple to keep his concentration from settling. A couple more, to keep him from just aiming to the right side. Back behind the tree as a dozen come ripping up to the leftish. Slide over, aim... and pour it on until he calls himself dead.
My quads ache. My back aches. My abs ache. It's funny. Most of the time is spent on your side, or your belly, or crouched; mostly at rest. But the other 20 percent of the time, it's all out, zero to sixty in a heartbeat. Like a lizard, or a bird, one goes from apparent rest to explosive motion. I have a couple of good hits, but only one bit of real bruising. There used to be a place in Santa Cruz to paintball, may I shall investigate it when I get there.
Holy crap!
Jul. 14th, 2009 12:15 pmI thought I'd seen pretty much every sort of whack-job trick to get out of a detail one didn't like.
What I didn't realise was that one of the classics, "You can't order me to do that" uttered by foolish privates, might be attempted by, of all things, a Major.
The claim... The Army can't send him to Adghanistan (where, we are assured, he wants to serve) because Obama isn't a "natural born citizen".
Officer refuses to deploy
MACON — U.S. Army Maj. Stefan Frederick Cook is seeking a federal court order to stall and eventually prevent an upcoming deployment to Afghanistan.
In the 20-page document — filed July 8 with the United States District Court, Middle District of Georgia — Cook's California-based attorney, Orly Taitz, asks the court to consider granting his client's request based upon Cook's belief that President Barrack Obama is not a natural-born citizen of the United States and is therefore ineligible to serve as commander-in-chief of U.S Armed Forces.
This, however, is the humdinger, from WorldNetDaily
A U.S. Army Reserve major from Florida with orders to report for deployment to Afghanistan within days has filed a court demand to be classified as a "conscientious objector" because without proof of the commander-in-chief's eligibility for office, the entire army "becomes merely a corps of chattel slaves under the illegitimate control of a private citizen."
I wonder, given that his counsel is Orly Taitz, just how he came to this principled stand (he alleges he that to obey orders from anyone in the chain of command would be to commit a war crime, and lose the protections of the Geneva Conventions. Already we have someone who isn't at the top of his class. One can't lose those protections. Mind you, were this an actually declared war, things might be a little clearer, none of which is relevant to his claim).
Taitz says he contacted her, which I have no reason to doubt (if someone were going to make this sort of asisnine argument, Taitz is the place to go. It seems to be what she does), but the follow on:
Incitement to Dereliction of Duty?
An officer has contacted me a few days ago (I will not provide his name), stating that he is about to be deployed to Afghanistan on July the 15th from Fort Benning. We were supposed to file an injunction, a stay of the deployment of this officer to Afghanistan until the eligibility of of Barack Hussein Obama as Commander in Chief is verified. The documents were supposed to be filed in the middle district of Georgia today. Due to personal reasons this officer cannot be the plaintiff at the moment, however all the pleadings in the case are ready to go. If you know any enlisted or officers, who are ready to be deployed, but want to stay their deployment until Obama’s legitimacy for the posittion of Commander in Chief is verified, please have them contact me. As the case is ready, it can be filed within hours.
[He might have thought to look into the talents of his att'y. I looked at the filing, I am certain I wouldn't do worse, and think I could do better, but this takes the cake
Wikipedia just can’t seem to make up its mind about where President Barack Obama was born.
The free, online encyclopedia this afternoon displayed at least two countries the commander in chief may have been born in – the United States and Kenya. That's right, she's making claims about the veracity of Obama's Birth Certificate based on an edit war]
I wish it was limited to this case, but no... an MP at Cp. Bucca has offered to be listed as a plaintiff as well.
(more WND)
The second soldier wrote, "I am an Army reservist who was activated last August and am currently serving with a military police battalion in Camp Bucca, Iraq. I will be here until at least June 2009."
He continued, "When I enlisted last year I had to show my birth certificate, as well as my driver's license, high school diploma, college transcripts, social security card; I also filled out loads of paperwork to include listing the names, addresses and phone numbers of my family members and had to answer any questions regarding foreign travel.
If that wasn't enough, a 40 year old contractor managed to get himself commissioned, and then decides Obama being president changed things.
Outside the Beltway
The soldier in question, 40-year-old contractor-turned 2LT Scott Easterling asserts that his oath to defend the Constitution require that, “Until Mr. Obama releases a ‘vault copy’ of his original birth certificate for public review, I will consider him neither my Commander in Chief nor my President, but rather, a usurper to the Office – an impostor.”
What do you want to bet, there will never be a copy of the certificate which passes muster?
This isn't the same as 2LT Watada. None of these guys is asserting the war is immoral, unlawful, or in some other way expressing a concientious objection to service. No, this little twerps are saying, "I don't like the president, so I won't serve anymore... not until someone I approve of is elected."
That's dangerous. Major Cook, he's contemptible. Obama was elected in November. Cook could have resigned his commission, refused to serve. I know people who did that. Enlisted soldiers who let their contracts run out, rather than serve under Bush, officers who resigned their commissions). The Major... he waits until he gets orders, and then refuses to go (at the last minute), to make a political point.
If you ask me, it's in the vein of a slow-burning coup. They are trying to turn him out of office. They can't. Obama is at least as eligible as McCain was. I don't know if rises to the level of Mutiny (though Taitz letter, asking for people to join her plaintiff is walking a fine line of incitement).
Add the reports that there are Nazi's serving, pretty openly and the Freepers running around wishing for "Americans to wake up, like the Army did in Honduras", and the future looks a little choppy.
What I didn't realise was that one of the classics, "You can't order me to do that" uttered by foolish privates, might be attempted by, of all things, a Major.
The claim... The Army can't send him to Adghanistan (where, we are assured, he wants to serve) because Obama isn't a "natural born citizen".
Officer refuses to deploy
MACON — U.S. Army Maj. Stefan Frederick Cook is seeking a federal court order to stall and eventually prevent an upcoming deployment to Afghanistan.
In the 20-page document — filed July 8 with the United States District Court, Middle District of Georgia — Cook's California-based attorney, Orly Taitz, asks the court to consider granting his client's request based upon Cook's belief that President Barrack Obama is not a natural-born citizen of the United States and is therefore ineligible to serve as commander-in-chief of U.S Armed Forces.
This, however, is the humdinger, from WorldNetDaily
A U.S. Army Reserve major from Florida with orders to report for deployment to Afghanistan within days has filed a court demand to be classified as a "conscientious objector" because without proof of the commander-in-chief's eligibility for office, the entire army "becomes merely a corps of chattel slaves under the illegitimate control of a private citizen."
I wonder, given that his counsel is Orly Taitz, just how he came to this principled stand (he alleges he that to obey orders from anyone in the chain of command would be to commit a war crime, and lose the protections of the Geneva Conventions. Already we have someone who isn't at the top of his class. One can't lose those protections. Mind you, were this an actually declared war, things might be a little clearer, none of which is relevant to his claim).
Taitz says he contacted her, which I have no reason to doubt (if someone were going to make this sort of asisnine argument, Taitz is the place to go. It seems to be what she does), but the follow on:
Incitement to Dereliction of Duty?
An officer has contacted me a few days ago (I will not provide his name), stating that he is about to be deployed to Afghanistan on July the 15th from Fort Benning. We were supposed to file an injunction, a stay of the deployment of this officer to Afghanistan until the eligibility of of Barack Hussein Obama as Commander in Chief is verified. The documents were supposed to be filed in the middle district of Georgia today. Due to personal reasons this officer cannot be the plaintiff at the moment, however all the pleadings in the case are ready to go. If you know any enlisted or officers, who are ready to be deployed, but want to stay their deployment until Obama’s legitimacy for the posittion of Commander in Chief is verified, please have them contact me. As the case is ready, it can be filed within hours.
[He might have thought to look into the talents of his att'y. I looked at the filing, I am certain I wouldn't do worse, and think I could do better, but this takes the cake
Wikipedia just can’t seem to make up its mind about where President Barack Obama was born.
The free, online encyclopedia this afternoon displayed at least two countries the commander in chief may have been born in – the United States and Kenya. That's right, she's making claims about the veracity of Obama's Birth Certificate based on an edit war]
I wish it was limited to this case, but no... an MP at Cp. Bucca has offered to be listed as a plaintiff as well.
(more WND)
The second soldier wrote, "I am an Army reservist who was activated last August and am currently serving with a military police battalion in Camp Bucca, Iraq. I will be here until at least June 2009."
He continued, "When I enlisted last year I had to show my birth certificate, as well as my driver's license, high school diploma, college transcripts, social security card; I also filled out loads of paperwork to include listing the names, addresses and phone numbers of my family members and had to answer any questions regarding foreign travel.
If that wasn't enough, a 40 year old contractor managed to get himself commissioned, and then decides Obama being president changed things.
Outside the Beltway
The soldier in question, 40-year-old contractor-turned 2LT Scott Easterling asserts that his oath to defend the Constitution require that, “Until Mr. Obama releases a ‘vault copy’ of his original birth certificate for public review, I will consider him neither my Commander in Chief nor my President, but rather, a usurper to the Office – an impostor.”
What do you want to bet, there will never be a copy of the certificate which passes muster?
This isn't the same as 2LT Watada. None of these guys is asserting the war is immoral, unlawful, or in some other way expressing a concientious objection to service. No, this little twerps are saying, "I don't like the president, so I won't serve anymore... not until someone I approve of is elected."
That's dangerous. Major Cook, he's contemptible. Obama was elected in November. Cook could have resigned his commission, refused to serve. I know people who did that. Enlisted soldiers who let their contracts run out, rather than serve under Bush, officers who resigned their commissions). The Major... he waits until he gets orders, and then refuses to go (at the last minute), to make a political point.
If you ask me, it's in the vein of a slow-burning coup. They are trying to turn him out of office. They can't. Obama is at least as eligible as McCain was. I don't know if rises to the level of Mutiny (though Taitz letter, asking for people to join her plaintiff is walking a fine line of incitement).
Add the reports that there are Nazi's serving, pretty openly and the Freepers running around wishing for "Americans to wake up, like the Army did in Honduras", and the future looks a little choppy.
Thanks, heartfelt and hearty
Jul. 14th, 2009 03:11 pmTo everyone who has been able to contribute to my Pledge Drive thank you.
To everyone who has expressed interest in buying a picture, thank you.
To those who were able to buy a picture, thank you.
To everyone, thank you. I couldn't do this blog without you.![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rikibeth pointed out that she thinks my writing valuable, in and of itself. I like to think so, but absent feedback, and commentary and criticism, I'd have stopped a long time ago. Writing for oneself is not for me. I am no Emily Dickenson.
At this point, with some of the usual trepidations, I am making the move. I'm calling the airline to change the date on my ticket, and find out what the better day to fly (it's an airline buddy pass, infinitely adjustable, but stand-by all the way).
So... in a vauge window from 22-25 July, I will be in the Bay again, this time to set up shop.
Thank you all, for all the support you've given me. I'd not be the person I am today, if not for all of you.
To everyone who has expressed interest in buying a picture, thank you.
To those who were able to buy a picture, thank you.
To everyone, thank you. I couldn't do this blog without you.
rikibeth pointed out that she thinks my writing valuable, in and of itself. I like to think so, but absent feedback, and commentary and criticism, I'd have stopped a long time ago. Writing for oneself is not for me. I am no Emily Dickenson.At this point, with some of the usual trepidations, I am making the move. I'm calling the airline to change the date on my ticket, and find out what the better day to fly (it's an airline buddy pass, infinitely adjustable, but stand-by all the way).
So... in a vauge window from 22-25 July, I will be in the Bay again, this time to set up shop.
Thank you all, for all the support you've given me. I'd not be the person I am today, if not for all of you.