Picture of the day

But how did all those shells get off the truck you ask?

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Well, if you're the British Army in 1918, you hire a bunch of local Italian girls to come by and lend a hand. Italianische Hilfermadchen, English style. :)
 
A Lancaster pilot told me of landing in Russia. the next morning the plane was found to have been moved to a new location on the grass field. It was a crude airfield with no plane mules. "How did you move the plane?" he asked. (It was fully bombed up.) Women. "Lots of Russian women."

He told me that when he got into the plane he found that the parking brake was still on.

This was a raid on the Tirpitz. They flew to Russia, refueled and then attacked. (They put it out of commission.)
 
Dan: Little one on the left with what looks like an 18-pdr is about the size of my Grandmother. She was very small, too, joined up just as soon as the King created the Women's Army. She went to driver-mechanic school, drove a staff car (Alvis) for the general Staff, then went into aircraft production when her first husband was posted "Missing" (he still hasn't been found), worked in an airframe shop until the dope got to her and then in an engine factory until the end of the War, came to Canada on an ex-Service warrant. Troopship to Halifax 13 days, then up the river to Montreal, then 7 days on a train across Canada.

We so often forget what some of the people in our own families actually DID just to get away from Europe.

Too bad, though. Europe took 1500 years after the fall of Rome to get this screwed up. We have done it in 100.

Progress, I guess.....

But this photo is a great reminder that Heroes come in all sizes and shapes and ###es.

We owe them so much.
 
Just some good ol' boys, never meanin' no harm...

WaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaHooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! :)

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Smellie, I know what you mean. Folks talk about the WW2 vets as "the greatest generation", and I understand the case for that, but the women sure did amazing things as well. My Mom's folks were dairy farmers in Athabasca, Alberta. Not big operation/big money dairy types, but a little farm with several head way the hell up and gone in the bush. Grandpa came home from taking the milk into town one day and announced to my very Irish Grandma that he'd joined the RCAF.

She Goddamn near killed him, but once she was done being angry, she got dedicated to showing him he could feck arf to the Air Force and she'd do fine while he was gone.

Grandpa shipped out and went through training for aircrew, where they determined fairly early that he was married, colour-blind, and a father, so off to maintenance training where, in a fit of "military intelligence", they made the guy for whom "red and green are pretty much the same" an electrician. He went to England, was assigned to 1659 HCU in Topcliffe, and spent the war patching Lancs and Halifaxes.

Meanwhile, back in the bush, Grandma worked hard, as did my 8-year-old mother.

Grandpa came home in the summer of '45, having signed up for Tiger Force so he could get home faster. Wisely, he chose not to mention this to Grandma. He found the farm paid off, the herd increased, more land bought, and new, solid business relationships built with the dairy. Grandma ran the farm better than he did, which we believe was something he never quite forgave her for. And the Japanese surrendered, so Tiger Force never happened, and Grandpa never got to see the South Pacific. Pretty raw deal all around for him...:)

My Grandma was the toughest old bird I've ever known, with the possible exception of my mother, who is both bulletproof and altogether wonderful, until you piss her off, which may be the last thing you do before you shake hands with God. I consider myself very lucky to have been raised by strong women. It's allowed me to appreciate them. Hell, I married one, and wouldn't have it any other way. Never understood why someone would marry a matrimonial "yes-woman".

Grandma "went west" in 2002. We miss her every day. Were she an Italian girl in 1918, she would have been throwing shells overhand to the next girl in line and telling her to pick up the pace.
 
Built on a 1915 Carl Gustav m/96

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Here's a gallery of all my photos: http://imgur.com/a/g9YAJ#0

Beautiful firearm.

I love Swedish Mausers. They were built on a fine action using the highest levels of early 20th c. production materials and craftsmanship. I like the ####-on-closing of the 96 Mauser action too. And I've always thought the Swedish 6.5x55mm cartridge was underrated. For a full-size cartridge, it's such a pleasure to shoot: accurate, flat trajectory, long range but surprisingly little recoil.
 
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