Grim's Hall is not a popular blog. It ranks reasonably high in the Ecosystem, where we are a Large Mammal at #408; but we have never had anything like the traffic the big blogs get. I've been idly considering the issue, and I think this is why:
1) Evolution: For fourteen thousand years or so, before civilization but during an important period of development for mankind, small bands of hunter-gatherers depended very closely on each other for survival. There are some lingering effects that touch on how blogs operate. Two of them are that the majority of people are extroverts; and that there is a strong, evolutionary drive in most people to desire agreement. Both of these drives developed because they kept the social networks of hunter-gatherer groups strong, which would tend to ensure survival and reproduction.
Most people are extroverts, which means among other things that they get their opinions from other people. That is, they decide what to think by talking to their social circle, feeling out what range of opinions is acceptable in that circle, and then staking out a position in the center of it. They don't approach issues by thinking about them in the sense of applying logic to principles; people who do that, who arrive at conclusions based on private thought, are quite rare. Such people are the only sort who will be comfortable here, because anyone who stays here long (including me, on many occasions) will have their ideas challenged and be forced to defend them on merit. The only merit most people are accustomed to seeking is 'it is commonly agreed.' Such people, most people, will not remain here because they will eventually be hit and be unable to reply.
The second drive is agreeability: the desire to find yourself in agreement with others. This has two expressions. The first is a willingness to yield on your own ideas in order to 'go along' with the crowd. The second is the desire to be a gatekeeper: to force others to go along with you. Most people express both tendencies strongly. You can see the results in any clique, from teenage girls to academics. People who have opinions outside the range of acceptable ones submit, or they are punished by the rest of the group. Either they themselves exercise agreeability by yielding, or others enforce it. Some people, I have noticed, feel it so important to enforce agreeability that they are happy to resort to the most ugly and brutal insults in order to silence people who are saying something they don't want to hear.
That kind of agreeability is simply forbidden here. The rules of the Hall are designed to promote the exact opposite: a place where people disagree, strongly, but with mutual respect. The weight of human evolution runs entirely against such an attitude.
That is not to say it is unnatural. Just as the great majority of humanity has brown eyes, there is a minority which naturally has blue. There are introverts, people who think carefully about things, and people who don't feel any particular need to have others agree with them -- or not much of one. They are something of a minority in the world, but they do exist. They will be happy here.
I think this will preclude us from ever being the next Kos, say. These two drives that are so important to most of humanity will not be satisfied here. Those for whom they are important will drift away. But there are other things that will be found, for those who are of that special few. You will find your thinking is improved by disagreement. If your interest is in truth, rather than social acceptability, you will find it here -- either someone will bring it to you, and you will discover it while trying to attack it; or you may bring it yourself, and find that your confidence and faith in it is reinforced by seeing honest, wholehearted failures to refute it; or we may find it together.
If that is what you want, welcome. If it isn't -- well, you were fairly warned.
Ev. & Blogs
Hunting
I see that Uncle Jimbo is going to be hosting the Carnival of the Badger, a blogger carnival about things associated with Wisconson. I don't ever get around to participating in these carnivals, though I probably should -- I just don't have the time to remember or keep up with them. Maybe I should appoint a Hall Warden in charge of making sure we get into at least a few of these things, like the Carnival of Cordite.
Anyway, this blog has nothing whatever to do with Wisconson, but Jimbo is doing hunting stories and I happen to know a couple of good ones. So, for your amusement, here is "Trophy Hunting for Dummies," or, "The Story of How Someone Gave Up Hunting Once and For All."
I have this story second hand, from a friend of mine down Atlanta way. An old friend of his had always lived in Atlanta, but had grown up on the great tales of safaris and hunters: Theodore Roosevelt's writings, the autobiography of Col. Patterson, the works of H. R. Haggard, that sort of thing. The Patterson book in particular could inspire a PETA volunteer to want to get out on safari at least once in his life.
So finally, one year this fellow decided that he would go wild boar hunting. You can do this down South pretty easily -- I don't know if they still do it, but they used to have annual wild pig hunts on Cumberland Island off the Georgia coast, and there are wild pigs all through Alabama and south Georgia. They're mean, dangerous animals and a man could feel like an honest-to-goodness big game hunter if he had successfully tracked one and taken it.
My old martial arts instructor, Ken Caton, used to hunt them with a boar spear. This fellow wasn't that brave, however -- he just wanted to hunt one. So, he found a place out in Alabama where he could hire a professional hunter to help him. He took his rifle, and went out.
The pro quickly came to understand how low the skill level was here, so he took the guy off to a tree stand and put him up in it. "The pigs come down this trail to the water," the pro explained. "Just wait here, quiet like, and you should get one." The pro went off, and the fellow waited. All day. No pigs.
Along about sundown, the pro came back. "Get any?" he asked.
"I haven't even seen any," the poor fellow said.
"Huh," the pro said. "Well, I think they might be coming any time now, what with sunset coming on. Just, ah, wait here."
The pro left again, and a few minutes later our friend heard what sounded like an all-terrain vehicle running around the brush. Sure enough, suddenly down out of the brush came a whole mess of the pigs, running in terror before the pro on his four-wheeler.
"Shoot! Shoot!" the guide called.
He just couldn't shoot. It wasn't right.
Now, this didn't put an end to the hunting thing. You don't give up on a lifelong dream just because of one bad experience. Roosevelt wouldn't have! So our boy sulked about it all winter and summer, but early next fall he booked a trip. This time there wasn't going to be any canned hunt; and this time, he was going to have the hunt of a lifetime. He booked his trip in Canada's north, way out in the wilderness.
His quarry? Bull moose.
Now, again, being a city boy he hired a professional guide to help him along. This guy was a real hunter, and together they carefully made their way into the forests and hills of Canada. Far away from civilization, they entered Bull Moose country.
Bull Moose are notoriously dangerous and bad tempered. The stories about them are downright frightening, and furthermore they are huge. So our city boy was a little nervous, fingering his rifle uncertainly as they proceeded through the grasses. Finally, the guide tapped his shoulder and pointed. A long rifle-shot off, standing by a lightly-wooded lake, a big bull was taking a drink of water.
Our hunter moved in closer, to be sure of his shot. He carefully, quietly got into position and slowly brought his rifle to bear.
Just before he could fire, the wind shifted. The moose raised his head, and looked right at him! The man froze. The moose froze.
Then, very carefully, the moose stepped sideways behind a thin little aspen tree. It just hid his eyes, but of course his great big shoulders and antlers stood out on either side, clear as can be. Having slipped into his clever hiding place, the moose stood perfectly still.
"Shoot!" whispered the guide urgently. But our boy couldn't shoot. It was just too pathetic. Instead, he laughed out loud, and laid down his rifle.
He took the story home instead of the antlers. It was probably a better trophy anyway.
Lewis
The New Yorker posts this biography of C. S. Lewis, written by Adam Gopnik. It is essentially hostile to Lewis' religion, comforted by doubt, and celebratory of Lewis' affair with a married woman, which Gopnik says was the real source of Joy in Lewis' life. Gopnik's subtitle is "Prisoner of Narnia," but in fact he ends on the opposite conclusion: that Lewis was a prisoner of Christianity, who finally learned to escape into "the darker realm of magic."
I. Heresy
I think that what I just wrote is accurate but unkindly put, which really captures the tone of Gopnik's piece. It is an interesting and thought-inspiring work, but not a kind one, which leads to unfairness. Gopnik chides Lewis' conversion as being insufficiently given to imagination: "[Lewis] is never troubled by the funny coincidence that this one staggering cosmic truth also happens to be the established religion of his own tribe, supported by every institution of the state, and reinforced by the university he works in, the 'God-fearing and God-sustaining University of Oxford,' as Gladstone called it."
The charge can be directed at the author as well. Gopnik himself celebrates Lewis' escape from orthodoxy into "the American cult of salvation through love and sex and the warmth of parenting," having glad words for sexuality in a number of places. Yet one of his original charges against Lewis is perversion; he makes much of his apparent fondness for spanking girls, which Gopnik puts down to the English boarding school culture. Perhaps; but Robert E. Howard, author of the Conan stories among other classics, never went near an English boarding school. As any reader of his knows, he also has a few kind words to say about the pleasures of spanking a willing woman.
It may be that the activity is more primal than perverse. Both Howard and Lewis spent a great deal of time and study on the Northern and Celtic myths, which involve powerful struggles between strong male and female warriors and gods. The power of these myths, as Gopnik himself says, is that they move us deeply and to the roots. Being moved by myths about these titanic clashes between strong and willful male and female heroes might naturally enough express itself in play, and particularly the play of men and women who love each other.
Still, it falls outside of Gopnik's own conception of right-sexuality, and is thus to be scorned as heresy against the true faith. Gopnik sees himself as an advocate of the true faith, the faith of the body. Yet he fails to see that his faith also is hemmed in with heresies and declarations of apostasy, intolerances and scorn.
II. Tribalism
Nevertheless, Gopnik's larger claim has merit. There is something here that needs an explanation:
It seemed like an odd kind of conversion to other people then, and it still does. It is perfectly possible, after all, to have a rich romantic and imaginative view of existence—to believe that the world is not exhausted by our physical descriptions of it, that the stories we make up about the world are an important part of the life of that world—without becoming an Anglican. In fact, it seems much easier to believe in the power of the Romantic numinous if you do not take a controversial incident in Jewish religious history as the pivot point of all existence, and a still more controversial one in British royal history as the pivot point of your daily practice.It would be odd that a man descended from Angles and Saxons, Jutes and Danes, and Normans whose name was itself a shortened form of "North-man," should practice a variant of a Jewish religion. Christianity's claim, of course, is that it is not a Jewish religion, but is instead the natural and universal religion of mankind. For that to be true, here is another thing that ought to be true: Jesus might have been born a Northman or a Greek instead of a Jew. If Christianity is true, there may be reasons why God chose to incarnate into the particular tradition of Judiasim; but if it is universal, and if God is indeed all God is said by the faith to be, He ought to have been able to teach the same message in any tradition. He should have been able to transform the teachings of Bacchus into Christianity. Just as Jesus turned Judiasm into something entirely different from what it had been -- a faith of forgiving rather than destroying your enemies, a faith of transforming all tribes rather than celebrating one's own particular tribe -- just as Jesus did that, if in fact he was God, he ought to have been able to do the same thing to any other religion.
It should not, then, be odd to see that Lewis finds Anglicanism to be a natural choice for him if he was convinced of the truth of Christianity. It is the point at which the stream of Christianity had most closely crossed the underlying traditions of his own people. Those traditions and myths are deeper than it is really possible to understand. They lie beneath the words of our language, such that Tolkien could retrieve dead forms of Old English and return them to us as living things that English speakers understand, though we don't remember why: ent and orc and warg seem like natural words that really should be what Tolkien said they were, because indeed they do mean those things. They always did. Somehow, though no one living had used the words for a thousand years, they still ring true to the ear.
A similar story from my own background: as a boy my parents gave me a book from the Childcraft series on myths of the world. It included myths from very many cultures, rewritten for children. They were also illustrated in forms that replicated the traditional art of the cultures from which they came. There were several stories that included dragons, stories about Chinese dragons and dragons forced to submit through the prayers of Christian saints, evil lizards and flying dragons. They were all amusing, but none of them seemed like more than a pleasant, obviously made-up story -- none except one.
That was was the Beowulf story. I remember having a clear understanding, which I drew from the text and the illustrations, that this story was actually true. This story, alone of all of them, got it right about dragons; it got it right about how men behaved and what dragons were like, and what kind of force it took to deal with them.
Why should that dragon have seemed real and right to me, among them all? The reason is the reason that myth underlies and moves our hearts so deeply; it is the reason that Lewis and Howard and Tolkien all drew first on the Northern myths. While two of the three felt it was important to reconcile those myths with Christianity, it was really the Northern myths that moved their hearts.
III. Myth and Truth
None of that says that Christianity is true, or that it is not true. As I said, if Christianity is true it ought to be able to work its transformation in any mythic tradition. It should be the case, if the claims of the religion are accurate, that Jesus could have been born a Dane; it should also be true that he shouldn't need to be one. God, if he is the God the Christian teachings say, should be able to work through Tolkien as much as through John the Baptist.
The test for that would be to see if the overarching power of what Jesus taught survives, even when it is entirely removed from the Jewish roots. If you look at the sterner sort of Christian textualist, those who closely read the Gospels but have little use for the Old Testament or the letters of saints, their faith should carry the same power even if it has a different feel. The Lutherans should be dour because the faith comes from a dour people; but it should still be Christian.
The scoring of that test I leave as an exercise for the reader. Grim's Hall has no official position on the truth of any religion (except Atheism, which we've declared to be false), even though I do myself. However, this isn't a church, but a hall for warriors, who are welcome whatever faith they advocate (even Atheism). I simply suggest that if you are looking for a test, this might be an illuminating one to apply.
It might be worthwhile to look at the writing of yet another myth-inspired writer, Fritz Leiber, who wrote a wonderful story entitled "Lean Times in Lankhmar." Leiber himself was (like Howard) not that interested in Christianity, and in fact the story is meant to be a parody of the faith, and how it adapts itself to other cultures. Fafhrd, the great Northern barbarian takes to rewriting tales of a Christ-like figure so that "Issek" begins riding dragons rather than simply being tortured. Leiber is a great writer, and even when writing what he intends as a parody is kind and fair to his subject. I think both Christian and non-Christian readers can benefit from thinking about the story he wrote, and reading it might make it easier to score the test.
IV. The Flower & the Sword
I was not familiar with the image of "the blue flower" before I read the Gopnik piece, but I find the concept familiar.
He loved landscape and twilight, myth and fairy tale, particularly the Irish landscape near their suburban home, and the stories of George MacDonald. Now too easily overlooked in the history of fantasy, MacDonald’s stories (“At the Back of the North Wind,” “The Princess and the Goblin,” and, most of all, “Phantastes”) evoked in Lewis an emotion bigger than mere pleasure—a kind of shining sense of goodness and romance and light. Lewis called this emotion, simply, the “Joy.” With it came the feeling that both the world and the words were trying to tell him something—not just that there is something good out there but that there is something big out there. The young Lewis found this magic in things as different as Beatrix Potter and Longfellow, “Paradise Lost” and Norse myth. “They taught me longing,” he said, and made him a “votary of the Blue Flower,” after a story by the German poet Novalis, in which a youth dreams of a blue flower and spends his life searching for it.For me, it was a poem written by Tolkien, which is included in The Hobbit:
I think I've been looking for that sword my whole life. I haven't found it yet, but I know that I believe in it. I know it's real, somehow, though I don't understand just how it could be. I just know it....For Ancient King and Elvish Lord
There Many a Gleaming, Golden Hoard
They shaped and wrought,
And light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
Lewis believed, as John Derbyshire does, that this is not the real world. That is a belief found in many places, and it might be true. I have heard that the ancient Irish believed it so strongly that they would accept debts to be paid 'in the other world.'
If that is true, it may be that seeking things that can only be found in that other world will lead you there. Or it could be that it condemns us to madness, if the world can't be found. Of course, it could also be that it is not true, and those of us who believe it are already mad. That, too, I leave to the reader.
Funeral
Via B5, we have a sad and moving story. The Funeral of SPC Tommy Byrd should be read, if you feel you can stand to read it.
Good Life
Daniel's apparently too shy to post a link to it here, so I'd like to direct you to his "Good Life" list. It all sounds pretty good to me, too.
WWII Vets
Via the Major's Lady, a compilation of Hollywood fighting men. Probably you knew some of these stories, but there may be one or two that will surprise you.
Rednecks
President of the Australian federation of Islamic Councils, Dr. Ameer Ali, had this to say in response to the arrest of 17 Muslims on terrorism charges in Australia:
I want the Government to assure my community that they will not allow the rednecks in this country to exploit the situation to cause disharmony in society.Well, aside from being shocked to realize that "redneck" is the same insult in Australia (and New Zealand) that it is in America, I'm not terribly surprised by this. After all, if there's one thing that society seems to be united on, it's that rednecks are bad.
Not just some of them, all of them. The political right and the political left are in perfect agreement on the question. We wouldn't think of condemning the Muslim community just because it produces terrorists at a rate absolutely unseen in any other group of humanity; no sir. Harmony is what is needed there. But we can just go right ahead and paint all poor, rowdy "rednecks" with the same broad brush.
Growing up in the red hills of Georgia, I met plenty of the type. They'll punch a man out for insulting Mama, but they'll charge into a burning building to save a child -- I knew many who did, with the Volunteer Fire Department. Or who did the same thing just to try to save a little of some other people's property, because they knew all too well what it was like to scramble hard all their lives for not so very much. For that matter, is it such a bad thing to have a culture in which people think it's a fighting offense to insult Mama?
You want harmony from them? Don't insult Mama, God, or country -- I expect that goes in Australia same as it does for America. They won't insult your God if you don't insult theirs -- but allowing your community to produce terrorists is going to be considered an insult to the country. If you want harmony with the rednecks, I suggest you do what you have to do to make sure that stops.
If you don't, I see no reason to think that demanding "Government protection" is going to solve your problems.
Evolution
Another sign of how much this blog has evolved since its initial days in 2003 is offered by the occasion of National Ammo Day 2005. This event is in its third year, even as Grim's Hall is.
Here are my rough thoughts, per year:
2003: "What a great idea! But, a hundred rounds? How will I afford it?"
2004: "I'm glad to support this idea. But, a hundred rounds? Where will I put it?"
2005: "Great idea. But, just a hundred rounds? I use that much every two weeks."
On the upside, my handgunnery has gotten a lot better. My "fliers" are still in the 8-ring, these days, even when I shoot one hand unsupported rapid-fire. That doesn't put me in "Gun Guy" or Doc's class, but it's a solid improvement over where I was a year ago.
Lang Poli
The other day in the comments, Cassandra said:
If I ever blog for you, you are likely to be stuck with me you poor miserable... bas... oh. I can't swear here, can I? :) That's the biggest reason I haven't done so, so far.I assume she means that the biggest reason is that she doesn't want to make me regret asking her on, rather than that she can't swear. I did stop to think about the question, though.
I generally let people say whatever they want as long as it conforms to the comments policy. I myself don't generally curse -- although if you read through the 2003 archives, you'll see that wasn't always the case. I blame Sovay, with whom I've been fortunate enough to spend a fair amount of time since 2004. Her influence has driven me to pursue virtue even in spite of myself, for which I am more grateful than I might have expected to be.
The comments policy at Grim's Hall is intended to keep the peace of the hall, not restrict the terms of debate. I'd like to make clear that you can say what you want here, so long as it adheres to the terms of the policy, which I adopted from the sadly-defunct Texas Mercury:
If you're looking for more guidance than that, I'll offer you the advice that Hank Williams Jr. gave to country music singers. I think it's a pretty good rule of thumb for gentlemen, Southern or otherwise:As we see it, modern society has all the important ideas of life exactly backwards: we are completely against the belief in sensitivity and tolerance in politics and raffish disregard in private life. The Texas Mercury is founded on the opposite principles- our idea is of tolerance and polite sensitivity in private life and ruthless truth in politics. Be nice to your neighbor. Be hell to his ideas.That stands, but I would like to clarify: hit & run attacks, whether they are on ideas or people, will be deleted. If you're a regular, you can say anything you want and expect to be treated kindly, personally, even if we beat your ideas to death.
No no, in country music you just dont use the f word;Two more pieces of business:
We've come along way but it's best if that ones not heard.
Oh, we had some hells and damns,
But we'd never say "B***h!", we say "Why, yes ma'am."
1) I'd like to take Eric's advice, and consider inviting some more co-bloggers to take up residence. Grim's Hall is a meadhall for warriors, so bloggers here ought to have an honest fighter's spirit. Beyond that, I'm open. Any regular reader may email me with suggestions. Just click on my name.
2) The trackback situation is sucking air. Haloscan reports more than half the time now that trackback pings are 'too far away' or 'don't appear to be valid.' Trackback is an important tool, though, and I hate to lose it. I'm thinking of swapping off to Movable Type or Expression Engine. Anyone with advice on that, feel free to email.
Jason van Steenwyk over at Countercolumn has just noticed that apparently the The Chairman of the House Veterans Affairs Committee, Steve Buyer (R-Ind.), announced plans to eliminate annual congressional hearings for Veterans Service Organizations.
Like Jason, I have to wonder, If they dont' have the time for this, what are they spending their time doing?
I am so glad I'm an Indpendent. Because if I was a Republican, I would be so embarrassed at this I wouldn't have the words to express it.
The folks at Situational Awareness, have posted some 11 stories for Veteran's day. These are all collected from JED, the Journal of Electronic Defense.
11. Paul Goddard: Royal Air Force
10. Mike Gilroy: USAF
9. Patrick Cordingley: British Army
8. Allan Lamb: USAF
7. Pierre-Alain Antoine: French Air Force
6. Yitzhak Zoran: Israeli Navy
5. John Geragotelis: USN
4. Scott Vogt: USMC
3. Michal Fiszer: Polish Air Force
2. Michael Svejgaard: Danish Air Force
1. Roger Ihle: USAF
Vet's Day
Thanks to all who have served, whether volunteer or by the draft. America today is as strong as she is in large part because of you; America tomorrow will be stronger for those who follow in your footsteps.
I salute you all.
Happy Birthday
This post will stay at the top all day. I'll update it as more links appear.
The Commandant's official greetings. "Marines create stability in an unstable world."
The Secretary of the Navy sends his greetings.
Col. Jeff Bearor writes on the birthday.
Mackubin Thomas Owens offers a history lesson.
Doc Russia posts his tribute.
And here are the links to Grim's Hall's previous celebrations, from 2003, and 2004 (although apparently my graphic from last year has died).
Drinks at Tun's Tavern.
UPDATE: Here is Joel's post at Southern Appeal, which I missed at first because (in his eagerness) he posted it on the 9th of November. I assume we'll be seeing a movie review of The Sands of Iwo Jima from Joel later today.
Outside the Beltway has this roundup, although they are apparently under the impression that the Corps was founded in 1875.
BlackFive has a few words from Tun's Tavern.
Daniel's birthday wishes are up.
Froggy wishes a happy birthday to the Teufelhunden.
LIFE IS HARD. IF YOU’RE STUPID IT’S HARDER
The above quote represents my favorite line from the movie The Sands of Iwo Jima. Those eight words, spoken by the character of Sgt Stryker as played by John Wayne, not only describe an inescapable truth about life they also accurately portray the no-non-sense, all business, blunt attitude of the ideal Marine NCO. That tuff attitude is what makes Marine Sergeants the backbone of the Marine Corps.
In the Spirit of full disclosure I must confess that The Sands of Iwo Jima has been one of my favorite movies since I first watched it as a little boy with my dad and my appreciation of the film has only increased over time. It is the classic 1940-50 American war movie. It is the story of a group of vastly different individuals that come together and learn to work as a team in order to accomplish a greater goal. Along the way they have to overcome obstacles both internal and external. They have to resolve personal conflicts both within themselves and with other members of the unit. All of this makes for a more dramatically fulfilling war movie than just about anything Hollywood has produced lately.
The story is narrated by PFC Peter Conway, played by John Agar. As the story progresses you learn that PFC Conway is the son of a senior Marine officer killed in combat. Furthermore, you find out that Conway and his father had a stormy relationship. This creates tension between him and Sgt Stryker who served with the elder Conway and thought he was one of the finest officers he had ever known. PFC Conway’s pretentious, no-it-all college attitude does not help matters.
Additional tension within the unit comes from the character of PFC Al Thomas, played by Forrest Tucker. PFC Thomas served with Sgt Stryker before in China. Sgt Stryker turned in him for an undisclosed infraction and kept him from getting promoted. Furthermore, Thomas lost the Marine Corps heavy-weight division boxing title match to Sgt Stryker. It is clear from the beginning that these two men do not like each other.
All of these tensions look as though they are going to come to head and end tragically. It doesn’t help that Sgt Stryker himself is struggling with a serious drinking problem and remorse over a failed marriage. However, through training and the crucible of combat the men overcome these problems and come together as a unit. They don’t initially understand Sgt Stryker’s uncompromising standards and demanding attitude until they realize that is exactly what was needed to teach them how to survive on the battlefield.
All of the above was often standard fare for war movies of that period. However, there are other things that make this movie more complex and superior to similar films. For instance, there is a persistent redemption theme throughout the movie. PFC Conway learns to get over his resentment of his father. Sgt Stryker stops wallowing in self pity and alcohol abuse. PFC Thomas, whose negligence in combat leads to the death and wounding of fellow Marines in the unit, overcomes his guilt and grief to ultimately become a strong Marine leader. All of this leaves the audience with a real uplifting feeling and demonstrates dramatically that while all of us fail it is the winners among us who don’t let those past failures prevent them from getting back up and trying again until they ultimately succeed.
I wish they still made movies like this.
Doc
Now, I know more than six of you read this blog. Take a moment and go vote for Bloodletting in the Clubs "deck of death" poll. The poll closes today. Consider it a USMC birthday gift for one of the blogosphere's proudest Marines.
Super Squad
In the Latest edition of the Marine Corps Gazette Col Jack Mathews, USMC (Ret) discuses which figures from American military history he believes would constitute the ideal “super squad.” The background for Col Mathews article is a picture commissioned by the Command and Staff College Class of 2005 depicting these different historical figures in the boat with General Washington during his crossing of the Delaware River.
The Squad is as follows:
Squad Leader
BG Daniel Morgan
1st Fire Team
Col John Stark
LTC George Rogers Clark
Col Edward Hand
Col John Glover
2nd Fire Team
MG Andrew Jackson
LTG Ulysses S. Grant
MG William Tecumseh Sherman
LTG Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson
3rd Fire Team
Col Joshua Chamberlain
ADM William “Bull” Halsey, Jr.
LtGen Lewis B. Puller
GEN George S. Patton
I think Col Mathews’ Super Squad represents an intriguing idea. One regularly hears theories about which collection of all-time great players would be on history’s greatest football or baseball team. Consequently, I think it is a good idea to spend a little time theorizing about whom from our military history would be in history’s greatest squad or platoon. Personally, I think Col Mathews’ squad has a few too many Yankees and not enough Marines. Additionally, I would have Made Andrew Jackson the squad leader.
From Cassie
In re: "Hey, Don't Laugh," below, our friend Cassandra sends an email:
Subject: President Bush may call up Marines to Aid France
FYI-- this press release just issued
President Bush has authorized the Joint Chiefs to begin drawing up a
battle plan to pull France's ass out of the fire again. Facing an
apparent overwhelming force of up to 400 pissed off teenagers, the President
doubts France's ability to hold off the little pissants. "Hell, if the last
two world wars are any indication, I would expect France to surrender
any day now", said Bush.
Joint Chiefs head, Gen. Peter Pace, warned the President that it might
be necessary to send up to 5 Marines to get things under control. The
general admitted that 5 Marines may be overkill but he wanted to get
this thing under control within 24 hours of arriving on scene. He stated he
was having a hard time finding even one male Marine to help those ingrates
out for a third time but thought that he could persuade a few female Marines
to do the job before they went on maternity leave.
President Bush advised Gen. Pace to get our Marines out of there as soon
as possible after order was restored. He also reminded Gen. Pace to make
sure the Marines did not take soap, razors, or deodorant with them.
The less they stand out the better....
HitchSudan
If we're quoting the great writers of the age, here is Hitchens on Darfur:
Any critique of realism has to begin with a sober assessment of the horrors of peace. Everybody now wishes, or at least says they wish, that we had not made ourselves complicit spectators in Rwanda. But what if it had been decided to take action? Only one member state of the U.N. Security Council would have had the capacity to act with speed to deploy pre-emptive force (and that would have been very necessary, given the weight of the French state, and the French veto, on the side of the genocidaires). It is a certainty that at some stage, American troops would have had to open fire on the "Hutu Power" mobs and militias, actually killing people and very probably getting killed in return. Body bags would have been involved. It is not an absolute certainty that all detained members of those militias would have been treated with unfailing tenderness. It is probable that some of the military contractors would have overcharged, and that some locals would have engaged in profiteering and even in tribal politics. It is impossible that any child of any member of the Clinton administration would have been an enlisted soldier. But we never had to suffer any of these wrenching experiences, so that we can continue to wish, in some parallel Utopian universe, that we had done something instead of nothing.Well? The Left will say that it is Bush's fault, for being too busy in Iraq to stop the genocide. But how did they do at the same test? No better.
Or not exactly nothing. The United States ended up supporting the French military intervention in Rwanda, which was mounted in an attempt not to remove the genocidaires but to save them. Nonintervention does not mean that nothing happens. It means that something else happens. Our policy in Darfur has not just failed to rescue a stricken black African population: It has actually assisted the Sudanese Islamists in completing their policy of racist murder. Thank heaven that we are tough enough to bear the shame of this, and strong enough to forgive ourselves.
Amid new calls for a new realism, this ought to be sufficient rebuke. What is needed is not more realism, but more idealism; not more negotiation, but a readier hand on the sword. We cannot solve the world's problems, but we can disrupt janjaweed militias easily enough. Bombs are good enough for buying time, so that rebel forces can form to resist the genocide, so that the military of corrupt third-world states cannot aid their proxies. We can ship arms to the oppressed. At least we can make a fight out of it, even if we can't win it for them.
But this which we can do, we have not done. Instead, we allow the UN to continue to ban arms shipments to the oppressed within war zones; and our reliance on their negotiations and 'peace processes' cause the deaths of hundreds of thousands. Are we strong enough to forgive ourselves, as Hitches says we are?
Steyn
His piece is here. The most chilling part of it is right at the end:
As to where Britain falls in this grim scenario, I noticed a few months ago that Telegraph readers had started closing their gloomier missives to me with the words, "Fortunately I won't live to see it" - a sign-off now so routine in my mailbag I assumed it was the British version of "Have a nice day".Mark thinks you will.