Showing posts with label Glorious Gloucesters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Glorious Gloucesters. Show all posts

Monday, June 20, 2022

Rule Britannia

 



Great Britain's newly appointed Chief of the General Staff, General Sir Patrick Sanders, has issued a challenge to the country's armed forces. These along with their allies must be "capable of... defeating Russia."

"The world has changed since the 24th February and there is now a burning imperative to forge an Army capable of fighting alongside our allies and defeating Russia in battle," stated Sanders in a June 16 message to civil servants and all ranks.




With total respect to General Sanders, what a tall order. After several decades of cuts and the decimation of once proud regiments, such as the Glorious Gloucesters, the British Army amounts to some 76,000 men and women. But not to worry, it has a whopping 227 tanks, 5015 AFVs, 89 self-propelled guns, 89 towed guns and 126 rocket systems. 

Like what, 178 guns? 200 tanks? Wow, at least there's some rockets. But what does this mean. That by 2025, according to the UK's Army, the Sceptered Isle has one, yes one and only one combat ready battle group of maybe  25,000 troops. There you have it, and to put it another way, a meaningless force without US heavy firepower. And by way of context, several months fighting has cost belligerents in the Ukraine more casualties than UKLF has members.




More on this and the Western European gamble of never having to fight another major, industrial war again (read the link, not long) anon. But I'd argue Sir. Patrick Sanders has a lot on his plate right now, as in rebuilding the British Army. Good luck to him. 

Rule Britannia,

LSP

Thursday, July 8, 2021

The Boy is Back in Town

 



It was Tuesday when I got the call, "Hey, dad, I've missed my flight." I paused, "Excuse me?" It was true, the Specialist had specially missed his flight from Osan airbase to Seattle and thence to Dallas. And he was freaked out at the prospect of, well, all kinds of trouble.

In a spirit of "no man left behind," I called up Camp Humphreys, explained the situation, and before you could say "Imjin Hill meets Glorious Glosters" spoke to a perfectly polite Korean woman who perfectly rescheduled the flight.


Typical Goucesters

Another call, this time to a soldier in a taxi returning to base, "Your flight's rescheduled to Thursday, it leaves at Noon." A shocked silence, "You got through? Wow, thanks." And the next thing you know, the kid was standing at the carousel at Terminal C. "Welcome home!"

Seriously, it's the first leave of any length he's had in one and a half years. Thanks, scamdemic. I took him out to an Irish pub around the corner for Guinness, fries and orange duck, of all things. "Look at this, orange duck, just like being in Ireland, eh?" Tasty, though.


Justine Trudeau The Face of Canada

He's off to Canada on Saturday, if they'll let him through the border, and then back to Texas in August before deploying to Fort Hood. And that, readers, is the story of that. I tell you, good to see my eldest son again.

Cheers,

LSP

Friday, February 5, 2021

Hippies Are Rubbish - A Cautionary Tale

 



Hippies start off well with love, peace and save the planet. Good call, who wants hate, war and a ruined ecosystem. Then they hold a festival, aka freak fayre, and throw all their trash around, wrecking the park. Not so green, but some of them are politicals. Here's a quick real world example, from long ago 'Nam, Cheltenham:


Bullsh*t Nige: "I ain't part of no system!"

LSP: "But Nige, don't you collect a giro? (welfare)"

Nige: "I does."

LSP: "That makes you part of the system, right?"

Nige: "Errrrr... But I got a workshop outside Swindon!"

LSP: "What?"

Nige: "Makes howitzers, nuclear howitzers! And a UFO."


To be fair, Nige wasn't so much a hippy as a lower order biker who lived with Big Frank, a prospect, at the time, for the Wolves Outlaws, or "Wolfies." A friend, PA, said one morning as we srolled through the Regency streets of England's premier spa town, "Imagine. Nige wakes up, 'Frank! I can't tie my boots!' Wheels turn, 'Fkn eat them then!'" I had to laugh.




Well, PA went blue not long afterwards, followed by FT, S, K, SB and others. What a waste of young life! I rebelled, joined the army, left the Glorious Glucesters and became a padre. So there you have it. 

I hope Nige is lording it over copious pints somewhere in 'Nam right now, when not gunning his hog past Imperial Gardens. And yes, hippies are and produce rubbish. They don't wash, either. Just stating the obvious.

Cheers,

LSP

****

BONUS LIVE HIPPY INFOVIDEO


Thursday, July 16, 2020

Musical Interlude - James Road



All hail the legendary TS McPhee and his mighty Groundhogs. I caught a few gigs, lots of Colors, sortta thing. As in, "What you lookin' at, fckr!" Pan to regimental tie and straight in the eye, "Happy New Year, pal."

Whatever, rock on,

LSP

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Fun Guns in Waco, Texas


I know. You should be patient in firearms acquisition. Don't rush into things. But I didn't want to go through the hassle of a transfer and FFL fees to get an Aero Precision lower receiver. So I drove to Waco, where Fun Guns (which ones aren't?) promised stripped lowers, ready to go. 

The first thing you notice about Fun Guns is that they're playing Led Zep, the Stones, Blue Oyster Cult, Deep Purple and all kinds of '70s rock, which is alright by me. The next thing you see is your old pal, D, Waco's famous gunsmith, shut down by the Administration, behind the counter. D once told me that "the .303 is a shark gun." Right on.



Alright then, you look around the store, pick out what you want, and find yourself agreeably pleased by friendly, helpful, and generally young staff.

I bought a Spike's stripped lower, nothing wrong with that, and gave the completed background check form to the tattooed but efficient-seeming AR afficionado in charge. He phoned up the Feds and got into trouble with the birthplace part of the form. So he questioned:

"What's 'Oxford,' man?"
"It's like a city. In England."
"Yeah, I know, there's a few."
"Oxford, England. Not Oxford, Kansas, or wherever."
"Gotcha."



Check done, I complimented the store on its music policy, and learned that St. Patrick's Day meant listening to the Dropkick Murphys. Shipping up to Boston? On St. Pat's, for sure.



If you're in Waco and you want a welcoming place to visit, check out Fun Guns. They're alright.

Shoot on,

LSP