Trinity Sunday

 

Typical Kitchen Glocks

Tomorrow we rightly remember and honor the fallen, today we celebrate the holy and undivided Trinity. Part of that, here at the Compound, means welcoming assorted soldiery on a weekend pass from Fort Hood. One of them, my eldest, is even a Sergeant, which seems very strange.

Perhaps you remember when Sergeants seemed pretty old. Now they're not, they're ludicrously young and full of youthful energy. That in mind, let the reader understand, would the NCO Club make it to Mass this morning?

Good question, and after Mass #1 at 0945 the Manse was ominously silent, like two minutes silence silent. You'll be pleased to know I resisted the heady urge to charge upstairs beating a wake up drum armed with a pick-axe handle, and brewed strong coffee instead. Let the kids rest, I thought to myself on the back deck, after all, they run around all week, so.

Then, irenic reverie over, lo and behold, there's a team in the dining room struggling into two button blazers and khakis. Why they couldn't do this in their rooms is and remains a mystery, but still, there it was and not bad for all that. And off we went to Mass #2 by the lake.

I'll spare you the trinitarian homily, which was a hopefully helpful Augustine/Aquinas hybrid, but I will say this: The faithful believe that a communion of divine persons in perfect love lies at the heart of reality, that ultimate Truth is personal love which loves us. The modern heathen believe in a very different God, that reality is impersonal force. You will notice, my dear friends, that people come to resemble the deity they worship. Choose wisely.

In similar news, a churchman sent me this excellent photo after Mass, from the restaurant where he was enjoying lunch. Have a look:

We must all eat at this place, and what can we say? A free man can defend himself, a slave can't. Go ask a Red Indian or someone in the UK if you doubt me.

#2A,

LSP

I Say Again

 

And big thanks to LL, who helped make this not unimportant evolution possible. No small thing. There is hope, my friends, in our youth.

Your Tan Suited Friend,

LSP

Back In The Hood

 

That'd be Fort Hood, of course, for my eldest's official promotion to Sergeant. It'd been a while since I visited the Great Place so first things first, go to the Visitor Center and get a pass, it's not hard, then check into one of the post's hotels. I chose the Holiday Inn Express, just around the corner from the main gate, and lo and behold, it was full of soldiers. It's also cheap, clean, and friendly, so there you have it.

Next step, set up by the pool of this former transit barracks (?) and enjoy a glass of wine while waiting for the acting Sergeant to arrive, and then go out for dinner and drinks. Easy. Or not. I'd foolishly thought there'd be a congenial NCO Club or some kind of restaurant open in the evening  on post where I could take the kid out for a pre-promotion ceremony celebration. But no, there wasn't. So we got an Uber to something called the Twisted Kilt, which is a kind of sports bar where the waitresses wear kilts and Killeen's ne'er do wells look for fights.

Still, it was fun, in a sports bar kilt kinda way and we made it back to the Hood safe and sound. Word to the wise, if you're going out for a drink or two, get an Uber as opposed to going through the Bernie Beck main gate in your truck and getting a DUI. This happens a lot, curiously.

Next morning, pull on a suit, I went two button, and drive over to Brigade for the promotion ceremony. It wasn't desperately formal but it was moving, at least for me. What happens is this: 

After a brief introduction to Company Command, "Fine body of men you have here, Sarn't," line up before the troops with the two men about to be promoted. Listen to valedictory acclamation from assorted leadership and then, when the time is right, face your son, take his corporal's hat off, replace it with one adorned with sergeant's chevrons and then do the same thing for chest rank. Take the old rank off, put the new rank on, and thump it in. 

For Goodness Sake, LSP, Stand Up Straight

As I understand it, the chest rank replacement used to be a bit of an ordeal because of actual, literal, metal pins. These days it's all about velcro, but you can still put the thing on with purpose. That done, stand aside before falling out. So there you have it.

Later that evening, take the newly pinned NCO out to Tanks because there's nowhere to eat and drink, apparently, on a Wednesday evening at the Great Place, huh. Stand outside Tanks and ask yourself, "What have we gotten ourselves into?" Damning the torpedoes you stride through the dark portal of this dive bar only to discover you can smoke there, great result, and that it's significantly better than the nasty Twisted Kilt. Not unlike Detroit in the mid/late '90s.

Tanks - I Recommend It

Pleased by this, we shot a few games of pool, which I embarrassingly won, enjoyed a few G&Ts and then headed back to Hood via Uber. All good, until disaster struck at the gate, "Do you have any firearms in your vehicle," asked security, sensibly, "Yes, a pistol," replied the driver, honestly. Hey, if you were driving Uber in Killeen you'd have one too. Whatever, he got detained, while the Sergeant and I walked back to the hotel through the long grass of Hood's fields. Well done, mission accomplished, and what can I say?

First: It's no small thing to take part in your son's promotion. Well done, boy. Second: I was impressed by the demeanor of the troops and command at B Company 57 ESB. Intelligent, well they are techs..., respectful, switched on and full of youthful vigor, patriots to boot. Third: This is very, very different than UKLF as I knew it, back in the mists of time.

Ahem, where's the starch, why is there not an hobnailed boot in sight? Why does a Platoon Sergeant have his hands in his pockets? Are there no rifles with shiny bayonets to Pre...Sent... Arms! Apparently not, and I brought this up with the boy over pool at Tanks. "Dad," he said, I know what you mean," he drilled with the Calgary Highlanders as a Cadet, "But, when this thing gets moving it's like an unstoppable machine." Hey now, I can believe it.

Huh, This Is Still Allowed

Back at the Compound now and all is well. Good work, son, proud of you.

Semper,

LSP

Epiphany

 

What a beautiful Epiphany morning, crisp and clear with the sun rising over the common behind the Compound. I say "common" but I don't think any of us have grazing rights on this bit of vacant land owned by the Civic Power. Regardless, I wasn't there to recce out a site for a new parade square or even admire the scenery, no, I was there to work.

Don't laugh, I was, and spent the morning hanging drywall for a new Habitat For Humanity house.  What a good cause and led, in this instance, by a neat guy who got me into the swing of things. He's retired now and spends his time putting up these houses for the good of the community, but had been a soldier for 20 years.

A Mexican immigrant, he joined up in 1969 and fought in Vietnam where he was wounded, "What's that, 49 inches? Sometimes my memory's not so good, I stepped on a mine." Mines aside, D stayed in and retired in 1989 as, I think, a  Command Sergeant Major with III Corps. "Phantom Warriors," I offered, resisting the urge to ask how an armored corps could somehow classify as "phantom." He grinned, impact wrench in hand, "That's right, III Corps."

What a good guy and he liked the fact that my eldest, the erstwhile and maybe future cadet, was stationed at Fort Hood, "It'll always be Fort Hood, man. Have you been down Tank Destroyer Boulevard?" I replied that I had. "There's a lot of power there," he said in a quiet tone and I agreed that there was.

Ahem, Civic Power, Roads

Then we were finished for the day and I tell you, I really enjoyed the work, the company and the chance to put faith into practice. All you biblical scholars out there will recall Christ was rather insistent on people helping out those less fortunate than ourselves. That in mind, I'll be back on the project, big fun to boot.

An Epiphany? Yes indeed, on several levels. Not least, tear yourself away from the appalling news cycle and do something good and constructive. Exercise your faith, put "tract into act" and all of that, and who knows who you'll meet along the way. But I won't preach.

Cheers,

LSP

This - That & Cooking With LSP

 

So what's it like in LSPland? all three of you ask with bated breath. Well I'll tell you. It used to be all about horses, guns and fishing but now it's mostly about driving between the Compound and Fort Hood Cavasos on account of an indigent soldier's broken truck.

This, bizarrely, ended up  in a guerrilla shop in between Millford and Italy where cash was king. And, to be fair, they did the work for a good price and the kid's Chevy is back on the road. Right on. Millford, readers, used to look like this:

Now it looks like this:

Well done, asset strippers, you've created a wasteland where we should have flourishing small country towns. Still, there's a Tesla Tower nearby so who knows what tomorrow brings. Good question, for us today's brought venison sausage pasta.

It's an incredibly complex recipe. Shoot a deer or get someone to shoot it for you. Turn the meat into sausage. Slice the sausages up into 1" chunks, brown them with onion, garlic and olive oil. Add diced tomato, I use Roma because cheap. Behold your culinary expertise and have a glass of cold wine, it's hot as Hades and you deserve it.

Then season your cheerfully simmering sauce with ground black pepper, iodized salt, basil, chili powder and a couple of bay leaves. I use Mex come-in-a-plastic-bag variety because, again, cheap and just as good. No rule, feel free to pay more for your bay leaves, your call.

Then, after an hour or so, when the hearty sauce has simmered down and its oil's begun to separate, fire up a large pan of salted water and cook up a pack of spaghetti. Serve the venison over the pasta with freshly grated parmesan and fall upon your scoff...

Like Warriors,

LSP

STAND STEADY

 

Well done, boy, go for that commission. Keep your eye on the ball.

Just sayn'.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

You Miserable Offender

 

Here's how it went down. 0600 and the phone rings, "What?" slightly terse perhaps. "Hey dad, I'm at the 7-11 next to Walmart and the car won't shift out of park." Huh, I thought grimly, "So you need a ride to Fort Hood?" Sure enough, that's exactly what was needed and off I drove.

It was a good drive as the sun rose over the expanse of Texas, though I35 was crazy as usual. Then there we were at Hood or Fort Carvasio, or whatever it's called now. Seriously, how many People of Color (POC) benefited in any way, at all, from the name change?  Like wow, just look how the indigent POCs in Killeen have prospered since.

That's the thing with virtue signalling mountebanks, they come on fast with good if fatuous slogans, like Black Lives Matter. Nice, of course they do, but who actually profits? Why, the virtue signalers themselves. You'll note BLM's founders are living in mansions now, poor POCs? Not so much, they haven't received a penny. The Biblical term for this is hypocrite.

Regardless, it was good to be back at Fort Hood and the soldiery seemed well presented if preposterously young. And the malfeasant vehicle's been towed to the Compound where it sits, awaiting the attention of a mobile mechanic or, more likely, a tow to a shop on Monday. Its issue? A broken linkage cable.

Easy fix, apparently, but I'm not about to try. In the meanwhile, what can we say?

Vivat,

LSP

Well Done Boy

We love it when our children do well and, of course, it grieves us when they don't. So well done boy on passing your promotion board this morning, by unanimous consent. This means he's off to Sergeant School in July.

front row, second from left

It's been a bit of a journey, both before and after he marched off the field at Benning, but he's risen to the challenge. Good work, keep it coming, and thanks again to LL for solid mentorship.

Happily,

LSP

Meet The New Rig Almost The Same As The Old Rig

 

Finally bit the bullet and got a new rig, which meant reaching over to the monkey, yes, a floor safe, extracting necessary bullion from the snarling simian and driving to Dallas and a cash only dealership. Run by Iraqis, no less.

There it was, a fleet 2018 F150 4x4, low miles, realistically way under dealership price, and it drove well, the truck I was after. So I bought the V8 beast, cash on the nail, and drove it back to the Compound, where it sat looking powerful next to the old rig. But not for long.

After Mass at Mission #1, a young soldier came downstairs; no, not to go to Mass at Mission #2, "Dad, there's a Battalion recall, I've got to get back in an hour." I pondered this for about a second, "Good thing there's an extra truck. Take it, don't crash, insurance docs in the glove compartment." And off he went back to the Hood where, apparently, someone had scored a DUI causing the Battalion to parade. Huh. 

In the meanwhile, the new rig's a definite upgrade, with a spacious cab, icy AC, a computer which tells you things, 4x4, and these massive great off road tires. Awesome. But... and I can't grumble given the price/miles, it has an IWE vacuum issue, maybe a faulty check valve, certainly a cracked hose. Easy fixes for cheap, rubbish, built to fail plastic/rubber parts. So, I'll get the rig checked out tomorrow.

Ride On,

LSP

A Good Sunday

 

After spirited, uplifting Sunday worship we ended up at Fort Hood's training grounds. Well, one of the entrances to the thing, and there it was, big Texas under a big sky and enough space for big Army III Corps to do its not inconsiderable thing, and then some.

The kid's proud to be part of that and fair play to him, I would be too, "Look, dad, this is where we ruck, and check out the 15 yard sight-in ranges, dead on at 300." Several motor pool drive-bys and a pit stop for food later we landed at the home of 57th Expeditionary Signals BN  (Enhanced) and that was that, "Train hard, think positive, fight easy," I offered by way of UKLF inspirational cozy farewell, and was met with a grin.

What a good result and what a good Sunday. The Sacred Mysteries offered, ite missa est, a son fast becoming a man under the watchful and doubtless patient eyes of good Command, thank you NCOs and Officers, and Fort Hood itself. Great result.

Next time I'll visit some of the post's museums, stay tuned.

God bless,

LSP

Fish You Fool

 

Boy With Fish

Elements of USARMY were asking, tragically, plaintively, "What shall we do?" Quick as a flash Command issued orders, "Go fishing." And so they did, putting rods and tackle into a Chevy Z71 which headed for the lake in search of fish.

Boy With Fish

Were they successful? Sure they were, fishing with light rods, circle hooks, frozen Shad and catching Gar, Flathead, young Striper and Black Drum. Well done, boys. 

Your Old Pal

Senior officers, on the other hand, stayed home, sorting out the admin of this irregular unit. Yes, this must change, we pride ourselves on leading from the front.

Fish On,

LSP

Back in the Hood

Today's mission was elegant in its simplicity. Get haircuts, for myself and the signalman, eat lunch and then drive in triumph to Fort Hood via I35 to drop the kid back at his post. You're probably thinking, "Great plan, so-called LSP, what went wrong?" 

Here's the thing, nothing. The mission executed flawlessly, the traffic even flowed through Waco at a steady 65/70. Miraculous, and we arrived at the objective in record time, an hour and half door to door. But as with so much in life this fast-paced forward movement came at great cost, $80 in gas.

Some Evil Subversive Sticker

Eighty bucks to drive from the Compound to Killeen and back. What? That's outrageous and before you can whistle most popular President in the history of history we'll be looking at $5 a gallon, in Texas. Wow. Thanks, Joe.

So it's a good thing our beloved ruler's invoked special war power emergency authority to relieve pain at the pump by building... what? More oil wells, pipelines from Canada, new refineries? No, of course not, solar panels. Let them eat sunshine and be glad of it. What a risible, corrupt, mendacious, lying, arrogant, out of touch clownshow. 

Speaking of which, here's a question for all the economic savants who read this inconsequential mind blog: How did prewar Germany end stagflation and is there a lesson to be learned. Discuss.

Regardless, the kid got off safe and sound at Thunderbird HQ and was happy to be back. After taking his ruck (ridic heavy) to his billet he returned to the rig for a final smoke and goodbye, "Dad, my roommate has a frog." I pondered this, "A frog?" Mind like a steel trap, you see. "Yes," the soldier replied, "It's a sweet frog, I like it. He has three tarantulas too, but they're young."

Farewells over, it was back on the highway for a bizarrely easy if expensive ride home, and I felt blessed in having a son who's made great strides in the last three years. Well done, young man.

And there it is,

LSP

A Bit Of This A Bit Of That

"So how's the Army treating you today, son?" I asked insouciantly, "It's been a good day dad, an easy day, except for the 5 mile run." I thought about that, "Whaddya mean, that's not too far." Ahem, let's see you do it, so-called LSP. Well, that was back in the day, so. "Right, not that far but half the platoon dropped out. I didn't."

I thought about it for an instant, "They're all getting back from leave, right?" and got a warning answer in the affirmative, "I know, we're Signals but still, if it ever gets real there'll be a great culling." A great culling. Let's pray that doesn't happen, and I mean it. Speaking of which, perhaps you remember our latest recruitment drive. Here's a snapshot:

In other news, our troops don't have to wear kabuki theater masks anymore and rejoice in their newfound freedom, or so I'm told. Perhaps war in Europe is focusing the minds of our rainbow elite General Staff.  

You can imagine. A Russian battle group, full of lessons from Ukraine, rolls over the rainbow border into Poland. Who will stop them? The Poles? Maybe, for a little while. The Germans? Hahahahahaha. The Dutch and the French? Snerk. No. What about England? Good call, but the Sceptered Isle doesn't even have an army, much less a navy. And on.

I say again, our elite rainbow oligarchy have been gambling on never, ever, having to fight a war again. Look how that's coming home to roost. Better cut your carbon footprint to net zero and open a trans bathroom. Pathetic.

Typical Chechens

Your Pal,

LSP

Heigh Ho Off We Go

 

Well, not me, just the eldest, and I have to say that plate rig's pretty heavy so I gave him a hand as he packed up to return to the Fort. He's all geared up for deployment in a month or so but ticked off about the state of his battalion's Humvees.

"Dad, they go back to the '90s, a lot of 'em are gonna end up as parts vehicles when we get there." I thought about this, "So you'll be useless as a mechanized force?" No, they'll use the working kit of the units they're embedded with and the broken become supply.

In the midst of this knotty supply and logistics issue an experienced solutions provider phoned in and I explained the problem. He thought for a moment, "We had the same thing in Gulf War I. We were running WWII Jeeps, seriously, Jeeps, because the Navy was cheap. I like Jeeps, but nothing has changed."

I passed that on to kid and he felt better. Soldiers like tradition.

Your Pal,

LSP

Soldier Gets A Ride

 

Here's the deal. Back in the day I told the Private that he could have my rig when he passed Basic and AIT. I, like a champion, would go out boldly and get a new one, a better one, and he could have the old beast. But things went sideways, the plan went awry.

The new Specialist returns from Korea and truck$ were stupidly expensive, "Son, because MillSoc incompetence and wrecking you must wait." Then truck$$ get even more ridiculously pricey, thanks, Xiden, and the kid has to wait some more, until yesterday.

A White Car

Cash in hand we marched into Barron's used car lot. "We want to buy a car, yes, cash on the nail." And that's exactly what happened. One 2015, 100k on the clock Kia later and the soldier drives off with his first vehicle. Nice and easy.

Park Up

Great result, and so much better than options on hand in Killeen, where they apparently gouge the troops; he was fixing to buy a '12 Merc for 13k but had a moment of clarity... thank God. 

Random DLC Spoon

So there you have it. Now the soldier's got a ride at a reasonable price and can nav the Fort on his own as opposed to scrounging lifts from somebody else. The plan evolves.

Parentally,

LSP