That is all.
Cheers,
LSP
Look here you lot, it's the great Feast of the Ascension, so enough Putinism, war theory and, ahem, bikers. Here's a meditation by Austin Farrer from Words of Life:
Where then, in all my spreading world is Jesus Christ, the man risen and glorified? When clouds received him from our sight, into what height, what distance did he go? However far away I place him, I gain nothing by it: he fits no better beyond Orion than behind the nearest trees. His risen being is no part of our interlocked system of bodily force, whether far or near. He is nowhere in this world. He is not outside it, either, for it hasn’t got an outside where he could be. Where is he then?
It is useless to start from me, and to fan out and out, looking for Jesus Christ: I must start from Jesus Christ, and fan out from there until, I reach myself.…
At first it may seem that we have two answers, spreading on independent planes and nowhere touching at a single point. Christ’s universe of spirit, and ours of physical force. Yet thinking further we perceive that it cannot be so. For while it is indeed impossible to place heaven in the world, it is impossible not to place the world in heaven. If Christ’s knowledge is spiritual, as ours is physical, then he knows us, for we are spirits too, spirits in fleshly bodies; and if he knows our spirits, he knows what our spirits know, including their bodily knowledge. He hears us speak from within our throats; he thinks our thoughts as fast as we can form them. But he feels in our fingers too, and looks through our eyes; he lives out along the lines of our vision, and our sun, moon and stars are his. By sheer love, heaven grafts the world into itself, and roots our universe in its own heart.
Jesus Christ, living Son of the living God, clothed in our nature, I cannot place you in my world, but neither can I escape from yours. I cannot reach you by many steps, but I can reach you by one, the single step of faith, which lands me in the heart of heaven. If ever I am to end with you, it is from you I must begin. Thou God seest me; and if ever I am to see across the gulf from me to you, it will be by starting with you, and seeing myself through your holy and compassionate eyes.
And again, from Crown of the Year:
WE are told in an Old Testament tale, how an angel of God having appeared to man disappeared again by going up in the flame from the altar. And in the same way Elijah, when he could no more be found, was believed to have gone up on the crests of flaming horses. The flame which carried Christ to heaven was the flame of his own sacrifice. Flame tends always upwards. All his life long Christ's love burnt towards the heart of heaven in a bright fire, until he was wholly consumed in it, and went up in that fire to God. The fire is kindled on our altars, here Christ ascends in fire; the fire is kindled in the Christian heart, and we ascend. He says to us, Lift up your hearts; and we reply, We lift them up unto the Lord.
Yes indeed.
Sursum Corda,
LSP
Just look at them dance. I say again, is Putin the new Constantine? Or would that be Tiberius?
Salve,
LSP
Military Power - Explaining Victory and Defeat in Modern Battle, by Stephen Biddle. The inimitable Armchair Warlord provides a synopsis:
Watching the slowly-developing advance of Russian forces across the line in Ukraine I've been brought back in mind of an excellent book I've read several times - Military Power by Stephen Biddle.
Using mathematical modeling, Biddle predicted that future wars would move slower at the tactical level than we were used to from the experience of WWII. This was due to technological trends in the range and effectiveness of modern weaponry forcing armies to operate in a more dispersed, methodical fashion so as to minimize their exposure to fire in a sort of neomodern reversion to the conditions of WWI. He also predicted that failures to do so would be punished with increasing severity as anything that could be discovered by increasingly omnipresent battlefield surveillance could be engaged effectively with precise and deadly weapons.
His recommendation on the optimum rate of advance for an army attempting to break through an enemy front line under modern conditions was a mere one kilometer per day; similarly he recommended that reserves be moved into position quite slowly to block such an advance to avoid their destruction by interdiction fire. Only once that breach in the front is slowly levered open can forces then mass into fast-moving columns to strike into the enemy's lightly-held rear areas.
I'm no expert but reviews by those who are glow with praise for Biddle's work. For example:
"Stephen Biddle's Military Power is one of the most important contributions to strategic studies in recent decades. Presenting a very powerful case for a very surprising argument on a very important question, it will be controversial in some quarters, but critics will be hard-pressed to refute the case."―Richard K. Betts, Columbia University, author of Military Readiness.
"Fascinating, precisely written, indeed, brilliant, Military Power is among the most important books ever published on modern warfare. Stephen Biddle fundamentally rethinks the causes of victory and defeat in modern war and challenges almost the entire corpus of scholarship on assessing force capability and the role of offense and defense in determining war outcomes. Presenting his argument with power, balance, and subtlety, he synthesizes many partial historical explanations and provides a basis for understanding why so many 'rules of thumb' and other explanations are misleading. A landmark work."―Lynn Eden, Stanford University, author of Whole World on Fire.
"Steve Biddle may be the best American defense analyst of his generation, and this book is quite possibly his career masterpiece to date. Few are as well qualified as Biddle to weave together vivid descriptions of the modern battlefield, clear explanations of historical lessons, a detailed understanding of defense technology, and a sophisticated use of military models and war games. Biddle does all these things, helping the reader understand modern warfare more than does any other book on the market. His argument about trends in warfare transcends the popular theory that a revolution in military affairs is now underway. He replaces this theory with a more convincing, more historical, and less technology-obsessed view of the modern battlefield."―Michael O'Hanlon, Senior Fellow, Brookings Institution.
You can buy Military Power on Amazon. It's most definitely on my list.
Ex Libris,
LSP
Nothing good, American cities didn't used to be the urban hellhole wastelands they've become. But maybe you doubt me and think "it's always been this way." No, it hasn't, here's a few before and afters:
Wishing a happy Easter to all our Orthodox brothers and sisters. Well done, unlike the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion (WANC) and the Marxist Climate Controller in the Vatican, you've resisted the urge to go rainbow gay.
God will bless you for it and one day, perhaps, when the West returns to sanity, we can restart true ecumenism and the Church will speak again with one voice. In the meanwhile:
Bless you all,
LSP
For sheer Jules Verne grandeur and scale it's gotta be the NatLib. I mean for goodness sake, the place is home to Europe's largest freestanding marble staircase and its minimum ceiling height competes with Mt. Everest. Hey, those Victorians thought big and the NatLib's got one of the best preserved Victorian interiors in London. All this to say nothing of a great Terrace and good food and drink at a very reasonable price, right there at No. 1 Whitehall. Respect, but it doesn't have rooms and's shut on weekends, also, its dress code is shocking slack. So.
The East India's smaller, better run (?) and more trad, more of a gentleman's "home from home," perhaps. It also has rooms, nice, a wildly historic location, think Waterloo, and an excellent Sunday lunch. Yes, this club's open on Sundays and is perfect for Brompton Oratory after-Mass. It does not, however, have a commanding stairwell or a Terrace. Huh. Why not let members enjoy the balconies off the Waterloo room? Too dangerous, apparently. Said no one ever in 1816.
Then there's the In & Out. You can go there after lunch at the EI on Sunday because, guess what, it's actually open on Sunday, albeit in a limited capacity, and enjoy smoking in the club's beautiful courtyard while you have a sip of the right stuff. Also, its stairwell is well put together as is the club itself. I like this place, not least for its brazen goat.
Farmers? Cheek by jowl to the NatLib lies the Farmers Club. Unpretentious, most congenial, with a lovely terrace where you can smoke and drink, this outstanding club not only has rooms in Whitehall at a ridic decent price but's also open on weekends. You can hang on their terrace sipping Bloody Mary's as you gaze at the scrum over yonder at the NatLib. Nice. It's ceilings, however, are only about 11' and it has no stairwell to speak of.
The Royal Scots does, and I have to recommend this place. Stay, if you visit Edinburgh, at the RSC. Get a double room overlooking the park, which is opened by real keys, and enjoy the congenial, country house vibe of this beautiful club/hotel. If you're a member you get discounted rates and access to a library, sitting room and recip rights all over. Seriously, I like this place. It's regimental, think Pontius Pilate's Bodyguard, it's civilized, not pompous, overblown and awful, it's well run and has outstanding recip rights. DM if you like.
So there you have it. Which club's best? NatLib for architecture, for sure, EI for put togetherness, I&O for courtyardery, Farmers for central London congenial at the right price, and the RSC for sheer tartan awesomeness. But of course they're all good, beacons of light and civilization in a world fast descending into darkness and barbarism.
Your Most Clubbable Pal,
LSP
A Warning to America: 25 Ways the US is Being Destroyed | Explained in Under 2 Minutes pic.twitter.com/qwmBO8DmMt
— Western Lensman (@WesternLensman) April 22, 2024
Cheers,
LSP
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.
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.
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.
Back at the Compound now and all is well. Good work, son, proud of you.
Semper,
LSP
