Picture of the day
- Thread starter jwhc
- Start date
Also note the pre-drilled mounting brackets on either side of the shelves. You can see how they are utilized in the lower right of the centre console
as Fraserdw mentions
this wasn't just a 'Defensive Systems' operator control station
as Fraserdw mentions
this wasn't just a 'Defensive Systems' operator control station
I'm fascinated by tail gun.It's M61 Vulcan in wasp like cover capable of movement much like wasp or bee tail.That gun got used a lot over the years.
https://theaviationgeekclub.com/her...ds-moved-backwards-when-they-left-the-muzzle/
https://theaviationgeekclub.com/her...ds-moved-backwards-when-they-left-the-muzzle/
From the B/RB-58A - A1 Flight Manual:
The flight manual is a bit sparse on equipment descriptions when it comes to the Defensive Systems Operator compartment - apparently you need to have two different "Confidential Supplements". They may have been declassified at some point, though...
The flight manual is a bit sparse on equipment descriptions when it comes to the Defensive Systems Operator compartment - apparently you need to have two different "Confidential Supplements". They may have been declassified at some point, though...
Poor Bugger! How long did he lie there like that?
"Dulce et Decorum est pro patria mori" Wilfred Owen
Cottage Hill Bill
CGN Regular
- Location
- Pensacola, FL USA
Dulce et Decorum est pro patria mori - It is sweet and proper to die for one's country.
Dulce et Decorum Est
BY WILFRED OWEN
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
Dulce et Decorum Est
BY WILFRED OWEN
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
We presume that as an artilleryman, he helped a lot of other poor bastards die for the Faterland.
The is a common misconception that the generals were stupid. Not really the case they genuinely believed on the first day of the battle of the Somme that the artillery barrage would wipe out the German defences. They amassed the heaviest concentration of guns they possible could and threw everything they had at the German line unfortunately they just didn't have enough. Defensive systems were far ahead of offensive at the time. The generals wanted to break through the lines and get to open warfare they just didn't have the means to do it. It took until 1918 to develop the techniques necessary to achieve this. Yes there were screw ups but the whole methodology of warfare changed with WW1. You can argue that there was not enough flexibility in the command structure especially at the platoon/company level but again that was something that evolved during the war. Hard to summarize in a few lines but there is a lot more too it than just blaming the General. Rapidly changing methods and equipment, political pressure. Providing support to allies to relieve pressure on other parts of the line. Many many books on this subject and there are a lot of myths floating around that came about due to politics rather than reality. Nothing changes. The grunt pays the price.
Once the war went into a static position with the trenches established from the Baltic to the Swiss border, it became futile to launch assaults against impregnable positions that no amount of artillery could 'soften'. The loss of an entire generation of Frenchmen is proof of that. Attacks where the losses were in the hundreds of thousands were repeated again and again ..... and what is the definition of insanity? "Doing the same thing repeatedly, expecting different results each time."
Gallant frontal assaults against prepared positions bristling with machineguns, protected by barbed wire and artillery was the stuff of madness; indeed criminal stupidity.
During thus time of quarantine, I suggest viewing "Paths Of Glory" starring the late Kirk Douglas. It's about a French division that is assigned an impossible task and fails to take the objective. As a result, a lottery was held to select a few soldiers to be executed for cowardice in the face of the enemy. It speaks to the mutiny of the French Army who were exhausted after years of attrition with no appreciable gains to show for it.
To bad those Generals and Judges weren't taken to task for their inhumane decisions. Some of them were berated by the media after the war and a few were actually challenged within their own societies but that was the extent of it.
I've read books trying to exonerate the decisions made at the time. IMHO, the Generals were wrong on so many levels, simply because they were ill informed / inexperienced and weren't about to take any recommendations from those actually doing the grunt work in the trenches.
This had a lot to do with societal level influences at the time, where grunts were considered to be an expendable commodity.
