Heroic Action

I've got nuthin' so I borrowed this, and because he's a Brit and we like the Brits.
This Weeks Hero Was Suggested By Mary Ann
Wednesday Hero was started to put a face to the men and women of the American Armed Forces and what they do for us. Vary rarely has there been a member of a foreign military profiled. In fact, in the two years Wednesday Hero's been going on it's only been done once before. Here's the second.
Lance Corporal Matt Croucher
24 years old from Birmingham, England
40 Commando Royal Marines

L/Cpl Matt Croucher is not only one of the bravest men alive, he's also one of the luckiest men alive. On the morning of February 9, 2008 L/Cpl. and his unit were searching a compound near Sangin in Afghanistan that was suspected of being used to make bombs to be used in attacks on British and Afghan troops. Walking in the darkness among a group of four men, Croucher stepped into a tripwire that pulled the pin from a boobytrap grenade. His patrol commander, Corporal Adam Lesley, remembered Croucher shouting "Grenade!"

As others dived for cover, Croucher did something nobody expected. He lay down on the grenade to smother the blast. Lesley got on the ground, another man got behind a wall, but the last member of the patrol was still standing in the open when the grenade went off.

"My reaction was, 'My God this can't be real'," said Lesley. "Croucher had simply lain back and used his day sack to blunt the force of the explosion. You would expect nine out of 10 people to die in that situation." L/Cpl. Croucher was that 1/10. Not only did he survive, amazingly he only suffered shock from the blast and a bloody nose. He was saved by the special plating inside his Osprey body armor. The backpack he was wearing was thrown more than 30ft by the blast.

"I felt one of the lads giving me a top to toe check. My head was ringing. Blood was streaming from my nose. It took 30 seconds before I realized I was definitely not dead," said L/Cpl. Croucher.

For his actions that day, L/Cpl. Croucher was in line for the Victoria Cross, the highest award for a British Serviceman, but it has yet to be awarded.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.

We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. For more information about Wednesday Hero, or if you would like to post it on your site, you can go here.

Pistol Match Target Update

We shot at 50yards and then placed a new center on the target and shot again in "timed" - and did that again from 25yards in "rapid", so there's three sets of holes one on top of the other. It was fun.

Awesome-Beautiful

Firehand , who is an occasional reader and commenter here, and here and there among the other blogs I frequent, received the most MARVELOUS letter from a friend in Denmark regarding our election:

"We in Denmark cannot figure out why you are even bothering to hold an election.

On one side, you have a bitch who is a lawyer, married to a lawyer, and a lawyer who is married to a bitch who is a lawyer.

On the other side, you have a true war hero married to a woman with a huge chest who owns a beer distributorship.

Is there a contest here?"

God Bless Denmark and the Danes! A beautiful country which I have had the good fortune to visit a couple times, generously bestowed by God with gorgeous women, yet nowadays cruelly beset by foul flag-burning Islamists in their midst. God perserve them.

Rangeday Springtime

Nice day Saturday...

I think I shot a 405-2X - they havn't posted the scores yet.
Afterwards we held a pistol match and I had brought along Old Betsy, the Colt 1909 New Service. She acquitted herself pretty well too although again I don't know the score, other people shot better and I don't know how low I finished in the standings.
We shot from 50 yards and then 25, and from each distance I got an X which surprised hell out of me.

Memetag

Got myself over to Linoge's barricade at Walls of the City and saw a meme floating around on the pool of words filling his moat, and decided to give it a go...when I notice I had been tagged! Zounds!
I should have noticed that by the reflection in the water, or like Gideon at the stream paid attention while drinking it from my hands.

1. Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating!

Yeh, right...but ok.

I looked up and pulled out the nearest 123-pager in the case above the 'puter...

2. Find page 123.

Hmm...here we are.

3. Find the first five sentences.

Da duh, da dum, herr-um, ta duh, mpfh. Here.

4. Post the next three sentences.

...He just asked me whether I was happy. When I told him, he said I had to go away for a time, at once, otherwise he wouldn't be responsible for my life.'
A memory crossed my mind.

WTF?? It's from John Masters', The Road Past Mandalay, a book about his service with the Chindits in the China-Burma-India theater, under their creator the eccentric genius-sonuvabitch-bastard General Orde Wingate -- also known for creating another guerrilla force called the The Gideon Force... Hmm...coincidence, but Gideon again...?

The CBI is probably best known to Americans as the fighting-venue of General "Vinegar Joe" Stilwell, Merrill’s Marauders, and the Curtiss P-40 Warhawks of another group of semi-guerrilla fighter/independent contractors, Chennault's famous Flying Tigers...

Master's had a lover, a lady who's marriage to another soldier was falling apart like his own marriage, and she was pregnant - and this was part of their conversation while away from it all, camping up in the foothills of Nepal...

5. Tag five people.

Awww...let me think about that.

B.A.G. Day!

Dammit today is Buy A Gun Day, and I nearly forgot! What did the Gun Fairy bring you?
I'd have to say that gunwise it's the Noveske, especially now that I got it sorted out (pretty much) ... or it could be the actual BAG for the not-guns, the club-bag.

And oh yeh I'm not bitter - I took a Pepcid AC, but I’m really tired of all the narrow-minded, rigidly ideological pseudo intellectuals surrounding Bay Area University campuses trenchantly clinging to their mordant Atheism and Ivory tower elitism when they don’t get tenure or even venture capital - they need a paradigm shift away from their outdated and disproven Socialist values. Hell the Communists didn't even win a seat in Italy of all the goddamn places. They're totally OUT.
And the Greens got canned too. Yay! So even the Italians told 'em to stick it where the eco-friendly lightbulbs and pasta don't shine - and they've had how many different governments since WWII - 61? Sheesh, by now they oughtta know a thing or two about Communists and Greens... Greens belong in a salad anyhow.

Barry and the Farmers

Barak Hussein Heavenlymoonlight Obama went to private school in Hawaii - must have been sheer torture, at least it wasn't Public School... A friend of ours went to public school there, was teased terribly and called "Haole" and had his lunch-money stolen because he was a little blond kid - wait, that's not true, it was his brother who was blond - nobody bothered our dark-haired friend whatsoever. He looked like a native and had good luck with the wahinis.
After a visit to The City by Barack Lion of Egypt Obama last week, he raised some funds from the fabulously heavy pockets of the local wealthy trust-funders, inheritors, and general Bay-Aryan elites - the San Francisco Democrats. People who's Great-Grandfathers used to work for a living. Some of his off-the-cuff whimsy and remarks caused a ruckus among the Leetel Peeoples who were spying at the keyhole.
Barak Messiah Obama sure knows how to pick 'em (really-rich), but the typical Center-of-the-Universe Bay-Aryan who went to Stanford or Berkeley really does tend to think and believe that way about the rest of benighted and unenlightened America. They are the distant relatives - family but never really visited or even understood. Milk a cow? To a Bay-Aryan the Midwest and flyover country begins as soon as the jet hits altitude somewhere over Modesto. Tahoe is a cold Oasis.
Visiting some sort of distant family in Nebraska (2nd cousins?) was always simply strange. After all, people escaped from the horrible drudgery and grinding poverty of Farm-Life in the 30's just to hit a Dorthea Lange photo-op and come to Stanford to solve ALL the PROBLEMS of "those people" - the farmer-types and CURE the DISEASE of Rurality. Besides, it smelled there.
Why anybody stayed behind was an anthropological mystery for the Tenured to Solve. So far the Tenured havn't, but one day, after more Tenuriffic ideas (and some Grants and Contracts) they might. Pleae send money to thne Starving Tenured of Stanford.
You know, they call Stanford "The Farm" - but affectionately only, and it never, ever, really was one. It's always been a vacation estate for the Uber-wealthy insular San Franciscans - with a few horses and a camera by Muybridge thrown in - pet eccentrics (and monkeys) are always invited. Steinbeck of course got a "C" because he was from Salinas for Goddsake, which is just outside Oklahoma, or might as well be. Viva La Raza and all that, cheerio and pass the dutchie!
Updated: with Haikupictograms!

Good Book, Must Read

I'm a little over halfway through it and I'm impressed enough to recommend it highly.
He discusses the mistakes and setbacks as well as the corrections and successes including the undeniable success of the surge.

Click on the book to go to the publisher's page.

Ammo for Birdies for the Brave

Given we play badly and carelessly, a lot of balls get lost in the water hazards, down in the creek-bed, and just plain who-the-hell-knows-where - they disappear.
So I needed some ammo for the bag, cannon fodder - and couldn't think of any more appropriate.

Practice Skipping, Skipping Practice

Saturday morning, instead of heading down to the Range by myself, together we went looking for something we didn't find. Ok, ouch it hurts to say, but I went shopping.
We had plans for Sunday and some preparation to do Saturday, so I skipped the formality of Club Practice and made the decision to shoot-off the rounds I'd just finished, all eighty-eight, in an effort to improve my unsupported offhand in a session of individual practice.

The thing we went looking for, well there was a SALE and a feeding-frenzy over a trifle - and when we saw what we'd come for, we acknowledged it was hype and not worth the commotion and tension displayed by the shoppers who fought over them.
We savored the taste of sour grapes.
My wife was let-down because in part she'd prevailed upon me to attend, and because of the disappointment factor. But really they were not worth the energy or tussle.

Sunday I found it in an unlikely place, and bought my first bit of digital multicam - but first we went to Deep Cliff.
We're not very serious about following the rules and etiquette of Golf among ourselves, but try to avoid afflicting or offending others who do. We mainly play with a girlfriend of my wife's, at a couple small par-3 courses where seriousness isn't a factor.
These "executive courses" let us get around in 8-holes fairly quickly, and then we're ready for lunch and drinks. I've only played longer courses twice, and after ten holes I'm starting to flail and my feet hurt - my golf shoes suck.
It's a nice way to spend a sunny day (if it's sunny) out in the fresh air, in one of the few places in California where you can enjoy an Arturo Fuente Hemingway - up until your feet start to hurt. In the 1970s, the brand moved production to Nicaragua. It ceased production there when its factory was burned down by the Sandinistas. Another good reason to hate the damn Sandinistas. I brought along a hip-flask of Barbancourt Rum, because they no longer have a guy who drives a drink-cart around. When the weather is blustery and cold it warms you up.

The weather started out like cold and gray, but then improved to bright, clear and sunny on the 4th Hole - and lasted like that till the 7th when it closed-in again.
I'm pretty crappy but every once and a while even a blind pig finds the acorn, and on the last hole managed a high towering drive that avoided the water.
So we had a nice outing, finished up, and then drove over to The Fish Market to grab some lunch and a glass of wine - I had a Bloody Mary - and talk about our upcoming trip to Kauai. My wife's friend had been there before and was telling us about stuff to-do, and we talked about maybe playing a small course while we're there.
I had an itch that needed scratching though, having seen what I wanted and what had been denied me in the shopping-frenzy of Saturday.

My old bag was getting tired and inconvenient, with too-few pockets for stuff - I needed a bit of retail golf-therapy.
Up at the Clubhouse a guy had a stand-bag in this pattern and I was hooked like a trout. Damn!
Callaway donates a portion of the proceeds from each bag to Birdies for the Brave which is a non-profit organization created by pro-golfer Phil Mickelson and his wife, Amy, to support troops injured during combat.

Since 2005, the TOUR has joined with PGA TOUR players and corporate partners to raise millions of dollars for military homefront groups that directly serve military men and women lost or seriously injured in performance of their duty, through fundraising events at TPC clubs nationwide.

The whole thing is an umbrella organization that covers the following:

Homes For Our Troops
A non-profit organization supported by TOUR player Phil Mickelson that adapts or builds new homes designed for military men and women returning to America with serious injuries and disabilities. This is accomplished through the generous donation of funds, land, building materials and professional labor. All services are provided at no cost to the veteran.

Special Operations Warrior Foundation
A non-profit organization supported by TOUR player Phil Mickelson dedicated to providing free college scholarships and educational counseling to the children of Army, Navy, Air Force and Marine Corps Special Operations personnel lost in performance of their duty. The Foundation provides full funding for tuition, books, fees, and room and board. Currently there are more than 700 children in the program.

Naval Special Warfare Foundation
A non-profit group supported by TOUR player Jerry Kelly dedicated to providing educational, motivational, health and welfare programs to the Naval Special Warfare community, as well as perpetuating the history and heritage of the U.S. Naval Commandos. Its services include educational scholarships and tuition assistance; financial support and counseling for the families of SEALS lost in performance of their duty; and outreach to NSW families with special needs.

Wounded Warrior Project
A non-profit organization supported by TOUR player Frank Lickliter dedicated to providing tangible comfort and unique, direct support to meet the specialized needs of severely injured service men and women as they recover and transition to civilian life. Among other programs, WWP provides Wounded Warrior backpacks and transitional care packages for severely wounded soldiers upon their arrival at military trauma centers.

Operation Homefront
A non-profit organization supported by TOUR player Corey Pavin that provides emergency assistance and morale to our troops, to the families they leave behind, and to wounded warriors when they return home. Since its inception following September 11, Operation Homefront has provided critical assistance to more than 50,000 military families in need through emergency aid, financial support and social outreach programs.

Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund
A non-profit organization supported by TOUR player Rory Sabbatini that serves a fundamental role in the U.S. Navy SEAL community by providing tragedy assistance for the families of SEALs lost in training or combat; family events and support to uphold morale and camaraderie; educational assistance and scholarships; and preservation of the rich history and heritage of these elite warriors to ensure their contributions are always remembered, recognized and documented.

Anyhow, I like the bag, it's my first bit of multicam.

It's Started

24.4 grains of H-4895 into those teeny leetle cases...it practically fills them so there's no possibility of overcharging.

The little 69-grain boat-tailed hollowpoint bullet pressed in, down to an OAL of 2.260" and then placed gently in the little smoked-plastic box. 92 left to go...

UPDATE:

51 down , 49 to go. I told you I'm slow!

UPDATE:
Whew! I got 88 done and decided to take a break, enough for the practice match tomorrow. Took off to buy some more cornholio-media for cleanign and tumbling.

Upon returning the scale was acting funky so I decided to re-calibrate it for zero.
Now I get Err l and nothing works right. Tried to re-calibrate the dispenser and it went all spazzy too, fillign the measure almost over the brim and all ovedr the bench - Whoa! Way more than 150-grains, more like 150 GRAMS. Time to call PACT, again - but it's Friday and they don't have any kind of off-hour support, wait until Monday.
Don't cry for me Robb!

Swearasuarus

Created by OnePlusYou

Fairly mild results I suppose.

In case anybody want to expand their vocabularic knowledge of vile and insulting language, and extend it to other entire linguistic families, from Albanian to Zulu, here's the Swearasaurus.
Totay kushta roga heu, sala gandu badipoda!

Teasing and Mockery

They just sit there at attention yet unattended, fifty primed but empty cases of premium Nosler brass that smirk and mock. Much more is needed.
Fifty is not enough - fifty-five is the minimum with sighters, so why the red-tray with it's deep and ordinary insufficiencies - fifty is just a round number to the manufacturers.
But even fifty-five is not enough, not for a State Championship Competition where several multiples of fifty are routinely discharged over a few days.
I don't have enough, there's never enough, and there's no such thing as too much ammo.
I must assemble more than what's laid out by several times the trays before me - I need seven trays-full.
Anyhow I'm not going this time since I don't shoot well enough yet and the weekend is not free to take.
The realization that "I suck" has a truth-to-power ratio evidenced by my own targets and scores. It's reality, not overwhelmed by inappropriate self-confidence, wishful self-indulgently bad Hope for Change, or deranged self-congratulatory analysis - it's stark and numeric addition without the New Math.
I should probably get my 600-yard actual distance baptism experience ahead of time anyhow, but this event is also a good way to just plunge right in, so THEY say. Next time.
In the Fall I will have 100-rounds of the 77-grain Sierra Match Kings loaded and 250 rounds of their 69-grain little brothers - done over time so the repetitive stress tendinitis and arthritis doesn't show up again - and if it cannot be beaten-off by Ibuprofen then I'm goin' shoppin' for Ammo, baby!