The Best Adventure ever....

Early Monday morning, as the late summer sun peeked over the forested Delaware horizon, My trusty adventuring companion (and eldest son Kevin.... my Philippe Cousteau) loaded up our Honda adventuremobile and headed to the environs of our Nations Capitol. Little did we know at the time, that the unforgiving gods of Adventure had some shenanigans planned for us.

First, the great mystery of 495, the beltway triangle. After making fantastic time, we hit traffic about 10 miles north of the 95/495 split. We did about 5 mph for ever, even when we got on the belt way...then.... for no apparent reason... traffic vanished. We werent by a exit, there was no accident, it just went from fender to fender, barely moving to 55mph in 10 feet...WTF!

Notes for foreigners in regards to 495.... Turn indicators are only used during the holiday season to add to the festive atmosphere. The guy in the Audi IS more important then you and IS allowed to drive like a full fledge Jackwagon and there is no reason why the guy is doing 45 mph.... he just is and you should deal with it because he is about to drop down to 25mph in the middle lane of a major interstate because his god demands it.

Note to the Government of whomever....That toll road to Dulles, loved it, as I was the only one on it...but....Coin baskets??? I spent a hour try to explain them to my son and frankly I expected to see Sonny’s bullet riddle car parked by the toll booth to 28.

Our first stop was the Smithsonian’s Udvar-Hazy center, in one word, Incredible. The layout, the Facility, the exhibits themselves are all fantastic. I was let down that I wasnt able to jump the rail and sit in the Sparrowhawk and play for hours, but I’ll look past that. They have that darn german Dornier with the propeller in the front and back, I built a model of that as a kid and fell back in love with it this Monday. All the rare German planes were fantastic. In the refurbishing area I think they are going to start working on a Helldiver and what could be a Japanese fighter. The P-40.... A plane I have been liking since the flying tigers special on the Military channel...is totally lathered in pure unrefined cool. There was a huge plus for us...a Mcdonalds... it made Kevin a happy camper. I could have spent all day there but we had a train to catch...literally.

We headed to 66 then to the Vienna Metro station, you know, if your nice to those guards, they are nice right back to you, as he advised us since we were going to make multiple transfers we should get passes and even hit the buttons for us...and they worked great as we headed boldly and without fear, towards the National Zoo.

The National Zoo is certainly unencumbered by such things such as animals, As noted by my son, most of the exhibits seemed to be empty. We did see the Panda’s, Guerillas, a single elephant a single lion and a single Tiger. The small mammal house had some cool critters and the reptile house was appropriately creepy but all and all not the best zoo my son has visited. I did note the the natural flow of the zoo seemed to take you to the bottom of a hill then said “thats it....have fun climbing back up the hill to go home” as sort of a bad joke.

Note: I will say that Connecticut Ave was kind of cool.

After the zoo we headed back to Vienna and searched for a Hotel, we soon pulled into the Fairfax Econo-lodge which wasnt to bad....providing you don’t like to take showers, as it seems when they refinished the bathroom they neglected to put in any device to activate the shower head. Our dinner was a disappointment (outback) and we were both asleep by 9:00 PM.

Tuesday

Early morning, we headed back to the Metro station....

Note for non-metroids: You can’t use passes until after 9:30, so if you want to get into the city early buy a one way card as well.

.... And headed into our favorite Station, Smithsonian. It was early but luckly the Castle opens at 8:30. We went in and viewed some small exhibits, Kevin got a great picture of Franco Harris’s Helmet and we went to grab a bite at the little cafe they have and can I say we had the best doughnut in the world, that thing was fricking god like, the smithsonian should have a Museum of Doughnuts with that one as the cornerstone exhibit, Im not joking...that was a great doughnut.

(Once again I will say, if you treat the guards and police politely, they are really nice guys, Kevin wanted to know what one of the buildings was so we politely asked a guard out front and he was very nice “Its the department of Justice, also called the Robert F. Kennedy building”)

The Spy Museum was our first real stop, a Totally awesome place. Kevin is to young to do the one Spy experience thing they have so I have never seen that but would love to go back and give it a try. We had been before but it was wall to wall people it was perfect today and everything Kevin wanted to do, he could.

After the Spy museum we headed to the Smithsonian American History Museum. A great place with a great Military exhibit, though I will say I am shocked by how brief the WWI section is... but hey, most people think numbered world wars began at 2. Kevin really didnt enjoy this museum as much as he had the last time we were there but was a good sport. We decided to head over to the Air and Space Museum so we headed out the front doors to the mall.....thats when the Earthquake hit.

The Earthquake...(BTW Great weather for it)

We had just crossed the street to the mall proper and were crossing under the trees, there was a smash of glass and Kevin said “Dad that lamp just broke” I turned to see one of the Brown lamps that line the mall swaying back and forth with part of its glass dome broken on the ground. I remember thinking “What the _____! is this the haunted lamp post of DC?” as we hadn't noticed anything else and we started across the mall.

We began to notice that all the people from the Smithsonians were beginning to assemble on the mall but didnt make any connection, I got a voice message but couldn't get anything but a busy signal, the woman on a bench by us with her kids had Verizon and she couldn't get anything either. Then somebody who was on the interwebs with there smart phone said, we had a earthquake.... as soon as he said that sirens began to be heard in all directions, Fire trucks and police cars were actually passing each other going in opposite directions.

All of the Museums had been emptied onto the mall by now and there was a mass of people. A helicopter was circling down by the washington monument at one point very close to the ground. We could see lots of emergency lights up by the capitol and sat down in the shade in front of the Air Space Museums.

We had some chats with some other tourists, including a family from Germany as we waited. Kevin seemed a little worried but we talked and he was soon himself. We soon saw people heading into Air and space so we decided to head in and to our surprise, we were allowed in. I should have taken the worried guy in a tool belt looking up at the planes hanging from the ceiling as a sign but we covered the WWI, and Aircraft carrier exhibits and headed around to finish the 2nd floor, as we did a guard said “2nd floor is closed...everyone goes to the first floor” so we obeyed and went to the escalator, as we descended the intercom blared “The Museum is closed...please exit the Museum”.

We asked a guard if they were going to be reopening today and he said no so Kevin and I decided to start our way home....or as it shall be called... “The Exodus”

The Exodus

We walked down towards the Smithsonian Station but it was Closed, or was supposed to be but people were forcing their way down the up escalator. So Kevin and I politely asked a park Ranger where we should go....these people must not deal with respectful people to often in the day because once more a expression of disgust turned into a helpful demeanor as she not only explained that we should “head up the orange line out of the City Center”, she gave us a map to help us.

We didnt have to go to far as we soon reached Federal Triangle and it was open, though it looked like the lifeboat deck on the titanic as many of the buildings had sent people home early. Kevin and I made our way down and he suggested that we should wait a couple of trains to let the people clear out...so we did.

Note too the guy in the Boy Scouts of America hat: If you ever bump into a person like that again and dont say excuse me, I’ll shove that hat down your fricking throat, I dont mind you being a total ass, but dont do it in a BSA hat. ( it wasnt us but the nice old woman we were talking to)

The platform did clear off... that is until people up the track realized they had a better chance of getting on a train if they came down to our station. We were reminded every 5 minutes that the Orange line had been damaged and that was only operating with one track up by new Carrolton and that the trains were only going about 15mph.

After a patent wait we managed to get on a train, we had to stand but we were on one and with some Old Metro hands who filled us in on this and that. At every stop, dozens of people would literally just try to cram themselves in, in their defense more sardines did get in the can but they just pushed people around. on guy got on and it was like he was the only person in the world as he didnt just grab the bar that Kevin and I were holding, but laid his whole sweaty arm against....over Our ( and several other peoples) hands and just didnt care. Apparently one Driver actually had people clear her train because they werent listening to her about people forcing their way on.

We started our trip home at about 3:15 and got to our Truck on the roof of the Vienna Parking garage at about 6:30. Our trip home down 66 to 495N then to 95N was surprisingly traffic free and we got home about 9:00PM

All and all it was a fun, eventful and exciting 2 days....what the heck am I supposed to do to top it?

The Harry Confession

My son, the young sage that he is, turn to me one day and said “Dad, you know the guy who plays Ron in the Harry Potter movies?” I said yes and he continued “ He gets uglier in every movie”. The comment in its self may not seem like much but the fact is it relates directly to one of my darkest secrets... I do not like Harry Potter.

Thats right, I have never even read a entire book, I have seen one or two of the movies and they did not suck, but neither did they do anything for me. Its strange, the series is Englishy and Magicy, two things that someone would assume would appeal to me....but it never has. Maybe the blame can be set entirely on my children’s shoulders neither of them have had much interest, though Kevin I believe has seen most of the movies, When I tried to read him the first book it just didnt seem to take.

I’m not a “I hate Harry” kind of guy, Hell I can even name some of the houses and remember some of the stuff from the movie, It just never grabbed me...not like the way “Game of Thrones” did or the first 3 Star Wars films ( to be precise Episodes IV, V, VI). I can’t explain this oddity, I want to be a Harry geek, lining up to see the last movie wearing my Hufflepuff scarf... but I just can’t.

My wifes family is full of Harry fans, I have friends who adore the series and from these people I beg forgiveness for my lack of enthusiasm....but then again, I will probably not see them in line for “Captain America: The first avenger” ( He did not just plug Captain America in a Harry Potter post? ..BAM!!... Oh yes I did) on Thursday at Midnight either.

It ain't the heat...

I truly believe that, Its the humidity. I go out side and its 96 with a breeze blowing and low humidity... thats ok in my book but when its 96 with the average Delaware Humidity of say 3000%...that gets old quick.

When I was young, it just didnt matter for some reason, we were outside playing no matter what, it never seemed to bother us (plus we could always hop in the creek). I can’t tell you when it began to be noticed but at the grand old age of Fluuffelnuffelflurf It begins to matter.

Why isnt Delaware covered with jungle? I mean It seems we get the heat and humidity but not the bananas and the monkeys...we got jipted. Why aren't there vine covered Ziggurats in Middletown? How about one bit of Delaware folklore about a Claymont boy raised by apes... there has to be some sort of pay off.

People who have moved away or live in other parts of the countries think i am exaggerating but I tell you, people who live in Jungle ridden countries complain about the heat and humidity here in Delaware.

I like to think its a Jersey generated Suck vortex that draws the moisture from the rest of the east coast, but then I blame Jersey for everything.

Part III "Jesus Wept"

It was always the wait that I hated, once you scrambled over the top and into the twisted moonscape that was no-mans land you had to much to think about, but in the minutes before the attack, as you all stood on the duck-boards staring at the ladder leading up to your possible death, your mind had fields of fear to frolic in.

It was in these moments before the attack that I envied the new guys in their ignorance. One guy, Meyer I think his name was, knelt trying to re-tie his puttee while two others cracked wise about who would get the better souvenir. “Souvenir” my inner voice said “Who would want a memory of this place” I promised my self my life would begin the moment I got this uniform off.

The veterans all stood quietly immersed in their own thoughts, some muttered prayers, others smoked one last pre-made like a man going before a firing squad. Hoyt, the BAR gunner from 3rd platoon lovingly wrapped a rag around the breach of his weapon in a bid to keep mud from it while Urbanski, 2nd squads Sergeant, ran his bolo knife over a wet stone a few more times.

Owens stood like a statue, not moving, one foot and one hand on the ladder as the other hand held up his pocket watch up to his scared face, illuminated only by the moon light. He had said all that there was to say, he had beat it into the squad leaders and assistant squad leaders that they were to head towards the “Devil’s Elbow”, a terrain feature at the base of Carrion Hill and from their they would utilize Two of the old communication trenches to get to the top of the hill. He made sure I understood that I was to be on the right flank and make sure that 3rd squad and its new Sergeant, Turner ( My former corporal, and good steady guy from New Hampshire) found their way to the elbow.

My mind raced through every type of death that awaited me, I saw visions of my pop and Mom getting the news but the worstof all was when my mind would take me back to the dream and the grim visage of death hovering over me. My hands shook a little and I grasped my springfield a little tighter to steady them as I tried in vain to look the part of a grizzled marine to inspire the men.

It being november, the night was cold and crisp, The moon broke through the clouds every now and then though I would have preferred no moon at all but hey... I wasn’t calling the shots.

Suddenly, Owens hand shot up into the air, the ready signal, and all fear vanished. I began to whisper reminders, “Follow your NCO’s” “Stick to the assault lanes” (They were paths cut through the wire that were supposed to be known only by us) “make sure your safeties are on” as I climbed part way up the ladder in front of me, just far enough that my head didn't raise above the lip of the trench “and above all....no noise!”

Owen’s up raised hand shot forward and I saw him spring up his ladder but then I was to occupied to notice much else. We emerged like the warriors of hell spewing from a crack in the earth.

The moon lit landscape before us was beyond description, how do you tell a rational man about what a field looks like that has been shelled, gassed and bleed upon for 4 years, It is a surreal visage of shattered equipment, unburied corpses and a cratered landscape where what remained of trees stretched out to the sky like the decaying bones of the earth. Yet it was a fitting canvas to reflect the madness of this war.

It was into this macabre scene that we moved, I tried to keep the pace to a jog in order to keep everyone together as we began exiting through the maze that was our own wire. I saw a Marine get tangled up not far from me and moved to him. He was beginning to panic and the sound of his struggle and cussing started to grow in volume. “Knock it off you Ape!” I whispered harshly as I grabbed the shovel on the back of his pack and used it as a handle, not only to free the man, but to steer him along as he let me know he didnt appreciate me ripping his pants like that.

Once we made it through the wire, we obliqued to the left and moved from shell hole to shell hole towards Carrion hill and the feature at its base known as the Devil’s Elbow. When the clouds parted and the pale fall moon shone through, you could make out the hill, it seemed to be waiting for us.

I began to worry that we were starting to spread out to much, I could see the MG crew that had been assigned to us drifting back and sent a runner to tell them to get the lead out. We were just over halfway there and things seemed to be going our way, some random flares had gone up and bathed the landscape with their redish white glow, but the boys had frozen well and I began to think we had pulled one over the huns... then it happened.

It was a kid from the MG crew, bent over by the weight of the big tripod on his back, that had set the events in motion. While climbing out of a shell hole he had tripped and stumbled. He was new, he wasnt hard yet, he still thought like a civilian and when he came down face first into the rotting carcass of a German who had been killed maybe two weeks ago... it was to much for him, and he began to scream.

The kid wouldn't shut up, he just kept screaming and screaming, Everyone hit the dirt, everyone prayed that the Germans were deaf tonight but with each horrific syllable, as the boy tried to scrape the guts off of him self, drifted towards enemy lines every marine could feel fears icy grip begin to squeeze their stomach. In the moon light I could see the #1 gunner rise up over the kid, raise up a box of ammo and bring it crashing down on the kids head...a moment of silence followed where everyman was afraid to even draw a breath. Did the heines hear us?

Time slowed as I looked over towards the german lines, it was like a lightning storm was busting loss over the horizon, quiet little flashes of light. “Get up you Mugs!!! Move it!!! get the lead out!!!” came a shout from the Lieutenant and at once I was aware, with growing terror, what was happening, it was german Artillery.

You didnt hear the report of the guns, no, as we scrambled towards the devil’s elbow as fast as we could run, it was the the shells slicing through the air that you heard then physics and rational thought stopped to hold sway over the world.

To me, it seemed the barrage lasted a hour, 60 minutes of air and earth mixing with fire and shrapnel. I saw guys simply vaporize, one minute they were there then boom, nothing. Little Marcus Jenkins lay against a tree, missing his legs, his screams unheard by men whose ears had been deafened by the blasts of shells. I think I saw some of second squad moving along together but they didnt look to be moving in the right direction. I became confused, was I even moving in the right direction? All I could do was act as if I had a clue and began to move off, grabbing up a couple of guys as I went, hopefully heading towards the Elbow.

We ran, I would like to say we moved with purpose and determination but the truth is we ran for our lives, when a shell exploding in front of us we moved immediately into its crater, from one to another as fast as our legs could take us through the shaking and erupting landscape. I could feel blood coming out my nose and ears but I still kept going, trying to drag along anyone that was at hand.

At one point I looked over to my left and saw Corporal Madison with a few fellas peering over the lip of a crater, I shouted out to him to follow me, I saw him rise up and put his hand to his ear but before I could shout louder... there was a explosion. I was blown back by the concussion and when I scrambled back up to the lip of the trench to see how Madison was, I saw a Helmet. It was lying right in front of me, a Helmet with its chinstrap still around the head of Corporal Madison, staring right at me. I ran for my life.

Suddenly I was tumbling down into a trench, landing hard on the shattered muddy boards of its floor, some bodies tumbled in behind me through the apocalypse beyond. I was no longer capable of telling one shell from another, it was just one long roar. We pulled our selves against the wall of the trench and huddle together under its illusion of protection and I was oddly comforted by the thought of when the time came...I would not be alone, and there we waited for the end.

Some time passed and I began to be aware that the barrage had ceased. My head began to clear as I looked about me. with me were two other marines, Urbanski and a guy name Gross from 2nd squad who had lost his rifle. Urbanski wiped the dirt from his face and looked over at me, he let out a long shaky breath that sounded as if he had been holding it through the entire barrage while gross shaky hands try to pull a Lucky Strike out of its tin. “Are we it” whispered Gross, his voice quivering with nerves.

Just then a shower of dirt pored down on us as three more men slipped into the trench. I began to raise my rifle, thinking “what if they were Huns” but I could make out our distinct helmets on the figures. Then he was there, his cold dark eyes locked on mine, Lt. Owens.

“You made eh college?” he whispered “Aye Aye sir” I stammered “But I only have Urbanski and Gross with me.” He looked around the trench at the men there, the two that had come with him were breathing like they had just ran a race. “I got Hoyt and Doc Stoltz. Good job getting to the elbow Sergeant”. I nearly laughed, through all the hell and confusion we had moved through fate had delivered us exactly where we were supposed to be. “ Gross!” Owens suddenly snapped “Where the Sam Hill is the Rifle the U.S. Navy was letting you use” he growled, even in the dark his eyes bore holes into the shaking private “I...” he began “I dropped it sir”. Owens seemed to visibly steam “you did what?” he took a breath “If you live Gross, and I highly doubt you will, you and I are going to have a long talk” and he looked towards me. “Ok college we’ll take 5 minutes then start up the hill, Urbanski first then me, Hoyt, Doc, Gross and you”

I was stunned “we’re going up?” I whispered and as it left my lips I wished I could have recalled it as Owens turned slowly on me. I tried to quickly add the missing “Sir” but it was to late. “I am sorry if the whole war is a inconvenience to you your lordship...” he spat “but we plebs here in the Marines got these things called orders see, and we follow them see, because thats what we do, the skipper didnt say nothing about coming back if you got a bloody nose so as long as one of us moves, we climb this hill...” his face got closer and closer to mine as he talked and I swore I could see skulls in his eyes as he finished “You Savoy college?”. I drew a breath “Aye Aye Sir” and Owens withdrew.

I had Hoyt give Gross his .45 ( As I had grown to love mine) so the kid would have a weapon. I had my Rifle and pistol, Urbanski his rifle, Hoyt his BAR and Owens was carrying his pistol and a Shotgun he had picked up during the barrage. These weapons, together with a handful of grenades and knives represented all we had to complete this mission. As we began to move out up the hill, I could hear Dock Stoltz some up my feelings and probably everyone else's as he whispered “Jesus Wept”.

Part II "Bastards in Brassards"

Battalion HQ was like a ant hill of activity, that is, if the ants all wore drab army uniforms and tin hats. Owens and I shouldered our way to the area the MP’s had said the oldman was waiting for us. I should have known something was not quite right then and there as the closer we got to our destination the fewer people we saw till finally, after passing one more Check point, it was just Owens and I.

He stopped right before the curtain which was indicated by the MPs we had to pass through. I was behind the man and couldn't see his face but he seemed to pull himself up straighter (if that was even possible for someone with a ram-rod backbone already) and tilted his head from side to side as if he was trying to get a read on the room beyond... and wasn't succeeding.

“oh well” he grumbled “Damn the torpedo’s, eh College?” I simply muttered “Aye Aye Sir” as he pushed aside the curtain and the dim golden lights beyond filled the dark tunnel we had emerged from.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust but when they did I felt some what out of place, in the room were about 5 of our Battalion Staff officers, The Major, Our skipper (company commander) and these 5 Limey officers who looked all spit and polish with there red and green brassards on their arms. They stood around the map table on which lay a map, certainly not one of ours (might as well just given us blank sheets of paper instead of those damn French maps) but a amazingly detailed one with some photo’s from airplanes scattered about.

“Lt Owens reporting as ordered with his Platoon sergeant sir!” growled the scarred Owens as he smartly saluted Major Dupree. The Major gave a casual return salute “at ease Lt. hope you and your boys are rested because we got a stunt for you tonight...Mack?” he looked over to our skipper, Captain Curtain, who looked every bit the man who had to break bad news.

Curtain looked across the table at Owens and began “Sorry Joe but this one comes from the gates of heaven itself...” he looked over at the brits then he pointed at the map, when his finger landed on a rise in the middle of no mans land my blood nearly froze in my veins, we hadn’t been in the line long, but we sure as hell knew that hill, like the Brits we called it carrion hill and for almost 4 years it was a place that people went to die. “we need you to take your platoon out and get up to the top of Carrion Hill, The Limey’s lost some people there this summer when the heines launched their big pushes and they are more then a little interested to find out what happened to them. You’ll go over at 10:00 Pip Emma we think surprise is the best bet so.....”.

“Excuse me sir?” said Owen’s, his voice sounding like sand paper being drug across gravel, so ominous did it sound that every noise in the room stopped and even the Brit officer’s seemed to lose their look of boredom. “Yes Lt?” The Major asked, for a moment it looked like the Major was trying to intimidate Lt Owen’s, but when he looked up at the Major with that face and those dark eyes...it was the Major who blinked. “You want me to take my live men, out looking for their Dead men? I ain’t a college man but Im going to venture to say they are beyond the carrying of modern medicine, why risk our boys on this sir?”

The room seemed to grow colder, not a sound could be heard, our staff officers seemed to be studying their navels as the major and the Captain slowly looked over at the Limey’s in the corner. All of them had mustaches and uniforms that looked like they had come from the finest tailors in London, but one had a slightly grander mustache and it was he who spoke up.

“Fair question old man...” he took a drink from a flask and studied the room, his eyes taking the measure of each person in the room. “Now this is all “Hush-Hush” stuff you understand but we had a chap up on the hill, a Dr Norbert Clive, real Tom Swift kinda fellow, helped design your gasmask. Dr Clive was in the process of developing a new gas, real devils own stuff, supposed to make everything before it look like cheap french cologne. Clive and his team were placed on the hill to give it a go but the day before the test, The hun took us totally by surprise, we never had a chance to get him and his lads off the hill.” he paused and once more looked around the room as he pushed the end of his mustache with his riding crop. “Now this is the sticky part, one day, maybe sooner then we all think, this war will end, and we need to know before then if the Hun has any idea what we were up to on this hill” he indicated Carrion Hill with his Riding Crop “ Thats why you and your chaps are going to climb that hill, ID any British Bodies you find and bring back any “material” that may be related to Clive’s research” again he paused to let it sink in “now... rumor has it that you Marine chaps are good at following orders... well follow them.”

I could feel Owens tense up, like a spring that was about to snap, I could almost smell his desire to pound this limeys face into one to the ceiling braces but all he said was “Aye Aye Sir.”

The Captain continued with the plan, laying out pass words, flare singles and additional personnel to go with us ( 3 extra Corpsmen and a MG crew) and the time table. I wrote in my orderly book like a demon trying to get all the details straight and frankly did a A-OK job at it to but Owens was a distraction, he only ever answered “Aye Aye Sir” or yes and no, he was like a boiler about to explode.

After we were dismissed, and we started back to the Platoon, I had the privilege of listing to one of the longest strings of uninterrupted obscenities ever witnessed on earth up to that time. There were english cusses, french swears, colorful phrases in chinese and spanish, even a brief discourse on why the British made the Navy look like geniuses and when we came to two of our guys Skylarking in one of the communication trenches, he tore into them like a dog into a new bone.

As the afternoon wore on, Owens and I saw to everything needed for the attack, Squad leaders were briefed, extra ammo brought up and the 10%, those men chosen to remain behind so the Platoon was never officially “wiped out” were picked.

I was nervous, I had been Platoon Sergeant for only a matter of hours and now i was going on a Stunt, my hands shook as I secured my gear and cleaned my Rifle and pistol. Before the war I hadn't been very religious, and maybe I still wasn't, but then and there I prayed that I wouldn't let Lt Owens down and I cursed all Bastards in Brassards.

Part I "try to look like a Marine and you might just survive"

November 09, 1918

“Old man wants to see you” the runner said as he kicked me awake with his hobnailed shoe “Easy mack, what were ya in civilian life a field goal kicker or something?!” I snapped back trying to shake the images of the dream from my head. I looked around, in the firing bay of the trench, Turner stood watch, his eye glued to the trench periscope peering across the blasted waste of no-mans land as the rest of the squad lay sleeping on the firestep, except Hoyt who was lovingly cleaning the new Browning Automatic Rifle he had been issued, happy to be rid of the French abomination known as the Chauchat that had been trying to kill him since July.

The afternoon Sun tried to fight its way through the gray clouds, I became aware of the distant artillery (the percussive accompaniment of this war) pounding away at some sucker some where, someone not me and god forgive me, I was thankful.

My folks back home in their brownstone would never understand us laying around in the middle of the day, Dad would say we were lazy but the truth is, most of the war, Patrols, Raids, Work parties and the like, all happen at night. During the day you just tried to survive and somehow remember you were human.

“best square your self away Sergeant... Scuttlebutt has it you and he may be taking a hike to Battalion” quipped the runner, a short Irishman named O-something or other. I have to admit, I still thought of myself as the atypical Yankee College kid who had joined the Marines on a lark (alcohol may have been involved), being called “Sergeant” just didnt seem to sit right... but the last 4 months had made allot of opportunities for advancement in the corps.

I pulled on my gear, grabbed my gas mask, helmet and rifle and started out down the trench with the runner in tow. It was a short way to Communication trench that led to the platoon command post, They call the section of trench Kensington Street, apparently the limeys named it, them and the french had been fighting here for 4 years before the Germans knocked them out during their summer pushes and here it was November and we allies were back in them, net zero. We hadnt got around to changing the names and I hoped to god we wouldn't be here long enough to do it.

As we pounded down the duckboards I thought of the Platoon. The platoon, that was a laugh, we had been patched up so many times since june I hardly knew anyone outside my squad. Most of the old Marines had bought a piece or a hospital bed and even the replacements for the replacements had been buried in the big graves around France. The new guys, I have to smile, They stick out like sore thumbs in their Marine uniforms. You see General Pershing hates us, he refuses to ship any new Marine uniforms to france so we have to make do with these brown army suits, they look like crud and are as comfortable as a stone sweater...I’m putt’n a match to these duds the minute they sign my discharge.

There was one thing that made me hate the new guys... and that was there faces, they reminded me of us when we first got here, faces that hadnt seen it...that indescribable horror that was modern war and I hated them for it. Even their fear was born of a naive innocents that had yet to be ripped apart by the Maxium gun or tangled in the barbed wire.

As the runner and I turned down Kensington we passed Doc Marvel doing a boat inspection... inspecting peoples feet for trench foot. Doc was a Navy hospital corpsman that had been with us since forever and because of the nature of his job, we loved him and over looked the fact he was navy. “Hey Doc” I nodded as we shouldered by “better take a look at Myer” I joked, seeing Corporal Meyer sitting shoeless for the examine “I here he is just back from Paris”. The men laughed as Myer fired a back something about my lice raiding a near by farmhouse, “You leave my lice out of it you gob! I’ll not have you tarnish their reputation in mixed company” I returned, pointing at Doc, the soul representative of the Navy, the parent service of the Corps, as we cut the corner to the CP. It was good to here the boys laugh as Doc’s retorted with the age old insult “Tell it to the Marines” as their laughter faded in the distance.

The Platoon CP was a bunker and was unique in that, at one time or another, it had been occupied by the forces of half a dozen nations. The Rats were even said to all be polyglots. Each occupant had left their mark, but it was the Heine’s that had made the most recent improvements with the addition of a deeper sleeping bunker complete with stove, not that we got to see it. The entrance was labeled in French, English, German, and Portuguese, but it was the last entry that had brought a smile to me, it read simply “Paris Island (Annex)” with a well drawn Globe and anchor over it.

As we stopped at the door, the runner shoulder past me, I could hear some chatter inside and then “Get in here College”. Through the blackout curtains I went and down a short staircase into the darkness. As my Eyes adjusted I saw our Platoon officer standing in front of a mirror shaving. It was almost hypnotic, the way he made slow passes with his straight razor scrapping off the days growth but then, in the reflection of the mirror, I saw him turn his face and he began to carefully navigate the hideous scar that ran from the corner of his mouth to the back of his jaw with the razor carefully moving over the raised areas that the sutures had left and through the sunken valleys left by a German trench knife. The scar almost gave the impression of hideous gritted teeth. I thought of my dream.

“They call them razors” he growled through the undamaged side of his mouth “Thought you college kids knew all about them... best introduce your self to one when we get back” he said turning as he wiped his face clean of the soap “If your going to be my platoon Sergeant”.

I must have looked as stunned as I felt, “Platoon Sergeant? Me?” my head screamed. I had only had a squad for two months. I should never have mentioned I had taken ROTC courses in college. My stomach was gripped by fear, fear of the responsibility. I was soon brought around by the old man talking.

“Sergeant Blevens is down with the Flu” he said as he pulled on his Forest Green tunic “and that left the choice between you and a monkey...” he turned and fixed his Dark emotionless eyes on me. Ice ran down my spine as I thought of my dream and the reflection of the skulls. “...and I seriously considered the monkey”.

The old man had been our Platoon Sergeant, but he was made a officer when he had returned from the hospital. For a week he had soldiered on with his wounds, Doc had stitched his face together under a poncho with a flash light and a needle and the old man hadn't even flinched. But it was his hand that had done him in, doc had tried to clean it and bandage it, he cut the rest of the pinky off but infection had set in and finally the skipper himself had to drag him to the First aide post to be evacuated, 20 days latter he was back and a fresh new 2nd luey with a horrific sneer scared into his face and pinky side of his left hand missing (they had to cut it off on account of the infection). It was a common practice in the Corps, they even had a term for it, “Mustangs”, officers promoted from the NCO ranks.

Since then we had 4 Platoon Sergeants, Gunnery Sergeant Hawks being the longest stint, but he went batty during a barrage and got sent down the line to see if they could put him back together. Now it was me...A two year Marine, before June some fellas had been Privates for 20 years... now I was a Platoon Sargent.

“Best batten the hatch there College” he said indicating my gapping mouth “I didnt make you Emperor of China...” he finished doing his collar dogs, and turned to me and with a slight movement of his dark eyes, down to my neck then back to my face, indicated that I had better do mine “...Kid, you’ll do fine, your smart...” he looked like he needed to qualify that “well...you arent a idiot at least, you’ve seen the beast...” (the beast being his term for war) “...and you can fight, Just remember, let the Sergeants run the squads, you run the Sergeants, they get out of line, you take them somewhere private and set them straight, with your hooks if you have to, but dont do it in front of the men”. He took a deep breath and for a moment, a brief click of the clock, he looked weary, “Look, I know your turning in your sea legs the minute this dance is over” (he knew I had enlisted for the duration) “but until that time remember you belong to the Corps, your back is stamped “Department of the Navy, Property of” so just Sail straight and keep your lines from fouling and you’ll look great strutting down Broadway with your medals on your chest on decoration day”

He turned and began to, as Shakespeare would have said, gird himself for war. There were no half measures for the old man, no allowance made for the mud of France. His Sam Brown Belt went on first, sort of a joke really, the Brown leather belts with its single shoulder strap were required wear for all officers of all nations in france, the thought being that a ape in the french army may not know what a captains bar looks like but he sure knew only officers wore Sam browns. Then he pulled on his Rig, made of woven canvas (except the holster for his 45) with eyelets, everything he required in war was fastened to it and like the illustration in the manual...he wore it perfectly parallel to the ground riding above the flaps of his lower pockets of his jacket, not slanted downwards like some bizarre gunslinger. Then came, not one, but two respirators in case of gas attack, The british Boxed respirator was secure on his chest while a french mask hung from his side. When he finished with his gear, he smoothed out any creases in is jacket, as i watched him something inside of me said simply “squared away”.

As he reached towards a hook to take his helmet he turned back at me “We’ve been called to Battalion, some sort of stunt for tonight...” He pulled his helmet on a let it tilt slightly down over his eyes like a man looking for a fight “... just stand there and don't say anything and try to look like a Marine and you might just survive”.

My Zombie story.....

Taking a page from Aravan's blogook and "Just post it" mentality. I decided to try to write my Zombie story... based on something I wrote way back in the 90's....and for the record, I can't write, I can't spell and Grammar is on my enemies list.

Introduction

I am falling, sliding uncontrolled down the muddy sides of the shell crater. It is night and the images of a fall come to me in the flashes of lighting and the flickering of flares in the stormy night skies. My hands claw and rake at the sides but I can not stop my descent, mud oozes between my fingers, it is as if the world is made of liquified earth.

There is a splash, the world of noise, machine guns, the screams of men and the Artillery mixing with the thunder, fade to a muffled nothingness as I crash into the muddy pool of battlefield swill at the bottom of the crater. I struggle to stand as I become aware of the bodies that float around me, I begin to panic as my feet try to push against the soft mire below. There is a brief moment of hope as my head brakes the surface but it is cut short by the realization that I can no longer lift my feet, I am sinking.

Around me, the eyes of the dead, sickly cloudy orbs, gaze at me in expectation, wordlessly communicating to me that I am soon to join their ranks. I fight and strain as I sink to my chin, “Lord no!!” I scream “Not like this!” as my mouth sinks beneath the surface, I try to will my nose higher as my final moments approach and then... it is there.

It is like he emerged from the greek underworld onto the mortal plane, its dusty, dirty wings tucked behind his huge cloaked visage as his bone hand grasped the sickle he would use to sever the threads of my life, I beheld death himself. It is if the rain fears him as not a drop touches his horrible form. I can not scream, I can not run, I am at the mercy of he who has none.

Slowly his hand pulls back his hood and I stare into the void of his eyes, his skull face tilting from side to side trying to make sense of my predicament. With one sure footed stride after another he begins to descend towards me almost looking as if he were gliding down the slippery slopes.

He does not sink into the water, but crosses it like a man walking across his living room carpet. The nearer he gets the more panicked I become, my hands are thrashing, only my eyes and the top of my helmeted head remain above the surface, I can feel the last grains of sand falling from the hour glass of my life. He bends down towards me...and that is when it happens.

As the light of a flickering flare touches this horrible vision, it transforms...not all of death, just the portions touched by light. Confusion now mixes with my rampant panic as I see him the way he first appeared to me on that night in June in the woods west of Bouresches,as death becomes the form of Gunnery Sargent Owens.

He stood over me like he did that night, His cheek laid open from the corner of his mouth to his infected wisdom tooth ( that, in one of the ironies of war had stopped the progression of the Heine’s trench knife and at the same time removed Owens bothersome tooth) and now the flesh flapped open to reveal his bloody clenched teeth...his Forest green tunic turned brown by the blood that soaked it. His eyes...his dark eyes showing no sign of pain or any other emotion for that matter, seemed to take in the world around him. The world changed

No longer was I in the shell hole but I was once more in the woods, those horrible woods, tangled in the debris of a German Machine gun nest that we had just rushed. Collins was next to me with the Heine Entrenching tool sticking from his head and Rose lay nearby nearly ripped in half by a burst from the gun...and he, Owens, hovered over me, his horrible visage glaring down at me “You ain’t dead yet kid....lets go you ape, your on the clock” he grunted, barely audible, through his clenched teeth. He reach out with his left hand to help me up, and as I grabbed it, I realized that the pinky was dangling from it, blown off by a german luger. I looked up to apologies, it had to hurt, but as I stared into that ripped face....his eyes showed no pain and as the light from a flare caught in his dark eyes... they reflection looked like skulls of light.

Then I wake up... Its always the same, a unchanging nightmare.

A Aravan moment... (Spoiler Alert)

It is no secret that I am a super huge “Game of Thrones” fan, both the written and the HBO series. For the most part I have embraced some of the changes they have made to bring it to the TV screen, But last night I had a Aravan moment.

A Friend, Aravan, loves the written word, I believe it is because of the images that it brings to his mind make the work a calibration between the author and him self. He has in the past surprised me with his acceptance of changes but he does have his “Aravan moments” when he simply can not fathom a change or added scene.

Last nights GOT gave me my first true “Aravan Moment”, to level set, I still liked the episode...however... I was livid at what they did to Tyrion last night. For the first time it seems that they put in some stupid slapstick moment that in my opinion severely undermined the fantastic job they were doing with his character. To have him knocked out in such a silly fashion and then miss the entire battle, a battle in which he led his clansmen in the book, was ridicules.

not quite as major for me but a bother none the less was the scene with Drogo, for some reason I envisioned that all happening around dusk and night time with the shadows of the dead dancing showing on the walls of the tent. This could just have been a me moment but it bothered me.

Ned’s execution, so many things right yet the one wrong spoiled it for me, him telling the man from the Night’s Watch “Baelor”. What made that so cool in the book is that he saved her without being asked, despite his pledge to the Wall, he still rescued the girl. Having Ned say that....just marginalized the acted.

I have to say that besides a few scenes, last nights episode had some powerful stuff, I am surprised I have come to like Varys so much more then Book Varys and I was surprised I didnt hate Sir Walter Frey as much as I did in writing.

The one scene I thought was great was the scene between Rob and Aemon, but again the handling of Tyrion this week made me so angry that I couldn't enjoy it. After the credits rolled all I could see was the giant novelty hammer swinging at him.

Next week episode has allot of ground to cover, lets hope they come through.

Rainy Days (<--- i pondered if I should have used a Z to sound cool but decided against it)

You look out side and the world is wet and gray, you listen to rhythmic patter of the rain against your transparent viewport to the world and dream of different times and far of places.... or at least I used to. You see, I love rainy days.

When i was a teenager rainy days used to make me want to sit and read, day dream or gather some friends together to game... as opposed to when I was really young and they made me want to run out and race pop-sickle sticks down the gutter of Longview dr. If you were to add lightning to the mix.... that just made it perfect.

I don’t know what it is about rainy days that effected me so, I wonder if anyone else felt they way I did about them. I imagine normal people dread the rain because it interferes with their normaling and stuff (normaling being the acts of being normal... its ok if you havent heard it used before as I just made it up). In High school, a rainy saturday would have me sitting around thinking of girls I never had the nerve to ask out or, via the minds eye, touring middle earth or the battlefields of france.

A sunny day never hit me the same way, I was never one of these people who went vaulting out the door on the first warm day of spring to rip my shirt off and play frisbee in the front yard while the transistor radio played the latest Aerosmith song.

My Mom used to have a third floor apartment at University plaza and for some reason Thunder storms always sounded as if they were blowing the place apart. You literally used to brace when you saw the flash of lightning...then BOOM!!!, I loved it.

I don’t know why some people are sunny day people and I am a rainy day person, maybe it was being lonely or some super deep psychological thing that I havent the slightest desire to understand, but the fact remains, that to this day I love a rainy day.

Pirates....

This Friday will see the mass opening of the new Pirates of the “Caribbean” movie. The return of the great Captain Jack Sparrow is sure to have movie goers all a flutter and bodice stores low on stock for months to come. Everyone will be Pirate crazy.... all except me.

I don’t like Pirates... well truth be told, I did like the first PotC, but the next two....not so much. I know, I know “Who the Frak cares what you think Clockwinder” the poor PotC fans are chanting and I must confess that I seldom care what I think about something as well, so please regard this poor entry as a simple IMHO sort of thing.

I certainly have nothing against women in bodices and when I become king we will certainly see more of that, and I think Johnny Depp is a brilliant actor so why did (and in fact do) hate these movies so much?

I don’t know... all I can say is I never even made it all the way through 2 and 3 in one sitting... I just have to get up and leave. There is not one thing that I can put my finger on...its like fruit cake.... you don’t know why but you hate it.

So fear not fans of the series, as you stand in line this weekend I will not be in front of you nor behind you to enjoy this new cinematic Masterpiece. I do hope the fans enjoy it and ....of course, to the ladies i say..... Buy and wear more bodices.

Geeking at the Aravans

Got to visit the estate of Lord Aravan on Friday and had the rare opportunity to geek out over GOT with his lordship and the Sourcemaster.... and loved every taped glasses pushing, pocket protector wearing minute of it.

His Lordship and the SM both had the advantage of reading all the books but we limited our conversation over the first book and they alluded to a few things in the other books (Something I don’t mind at all) and they succeeded in flaming my desire to get the other books.

We also played a game called “Never have I ever” in which his lordship and I nearly died of thirst but it was so much fun hanging with the crew of geeks and nar-do-wells.

They make very happy drunks (for the most part) and great company!

The Game of Thrones....the book

first off beware....Possible spoilers ( as I don’t know what Im truly going to write yet)

Fueled by my love of the HBO series based on it, I purchased the audio book for George Martin’s “Game of Thrones”. 44 hours of book, in 4 8 plus hour sections appeared to be a daunting listen but with time while I waited for Kevin to finish he track practices...I had at.

I don’t normally go gaga over popular fantasy, sure I love me some Tolkien and I read the “Lord Foul’s Bane” series, but besides that I steer clear of the like...with that said, I loved every second of GOT.

I mistakenly began liking some characters in the book only to have the author gleeful slay them in the festering pit of deceit that is Kings landing and the 7 kingdoms. I am thankful that Jon Snow made the cut and remained true to his oath but now I am wary that he may have his dark day ahead.

The book is full of so many great Characters, both good, bad and undetermined that at times you can’t wait for the narrative to return to them. The Mormounts became a favorite of mine, the father, the Son and the sister all coming together to paint the portrait of a minor noble house, though only in the background, richly alive with the Father who was forced to take the black, the son who fled into exile and the Warrior sister who’s daughters carry on the name with the smashing of the morning stars.

The author seems to happily build of the Stark family then takes fiendish delight as he suffers them to all sorts of hardships. I like the Starks and the northern families, the author makes me think of the northern english folk of the border with his descriptions... and their stalwart honorable streak.... a benefit in the north.... that turns out to be their glass jaw in the Machiavellian towers of the capital.

Even the battles come to life with a rich history as the author describes the various bannermen and lords that flock to battle under their various sigels, each appear to be unique and many seem to be dual edged blades ready to cut both sides like the Frey’s and Grayjoys. The battles them selves are bloody and believable.

Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf son of the lord of Casterly Rock is a wonderful character, though he tells you that if he wasnt the son of a lord he probably would have been killed as a newborn, his short comings (forgive the pun) make him more and more a giant in the book as he endeavors to out smart his opponents instead of out fight, but we must say that when push comes to shove....his little body houses bear size courage.

The book is wonderful as it follows the fall of Robert Beratheon, the usurper King and the rise of his son Geof. The secrets that end up killing two “Hands of the king” and the crowning of the kings younger brother Renley towards the end of the book and leaves the 7 kingdoms on the edge of being ripped apart.

With all that happening....we are told the tale of the last of the Targaryen, Daenery, who finds love married to a horse lord and the tragedy that follows.... but in the end, for the child she losses she gains 3.... the first in 100’s of years and we are led to believe the Dragon of House Targaryen is turning its eye once more to the “Iron Throne”.

Though some of the readers voices annoyed me to no end, I have to say I loved the book more then any Fantasy book that I have read in a long time. If you have not read it, I encourage you to pick it up.....the only problem you’ll have is putting it it down.

Spin the bottle....

Sometimes I sit and listen to my younger friends tales of the wild parties that they have attended... full of naked women, beer and what not and I think back to my party days and the fun that was spin the bottle.

Thats right, the game were you and the girls sit in a circle, spin the bottle and whoever the bottle points to...you have to kiss. WILD!! INSANE!! Off the Hook!!! I know...it was all this and more and truth be told I only played it once.

We had just moved into our apartment in Springrun and we had some friends over. These many years latter and I have no idea how we all came to be sitting on the brown carpeting spinning a 2 litre bottle...but there we were.

Like I said....it was my only game of STB and truth be told it was kind of fun. I believe all the guys afterwards agreed that Mike’s girlfriend was akin to kissing a board and I remember Dave and Nat having a wild kiss or two but nothing you couldnt show in the 8:00 time slot on ABC.

A “wild and Crazy” time was had by all though, we seemed to have played for a while and I do not believe any alcohol was involved. In this day and age you have to laugh at the innocents of it I supposed...at least when compared to some parties I have listened to. I wonder if kids still play Spin The Bottle?

Epic Fail

Thats right.... The Clockwinder has epic failed in his quest to keep his blog flowing regularly. I could plead a busy life, but instead I will chalk it up to supreme lameatude on my part and endeavor to get my act together.

Time to wind the clocks

Winter is Coming......

This Sunday HBO aired the first episode of “Game of Thrones” based on the Novels of George Martin (yes I refused to use his middle initials). I have never read the books but the idea of a Fantasy series on HBO really stocked the fires of my inner geek so I was looking forward to the series.

Last Month HBO began posting some video’s “Ondemand” explaining some of the houses and the world and such and I found my self looking more and more forward to the series. As a Uber nerd I am accustomed to being disappointed so I made sure that I was well armored against the chance of major Suckage.

As A non-reader of the books I didnt have a predetermined idea of what should or shouldn't be, I was the preverbal clean slate. So Sunday when the kids and wife had gone to bed, I sat and watched episode 1.... Two Times.

The series had me right from the first minutes, as the Knights Watch rode through the Icewall and were attacked by the White walkers ( or is it Wight). I loved the way the scene played out against the snow covered forest backdrop and the creatures even though they were only shown in glimpses were Terrifying.

As the episode progressed it introduced a world of great intrigue, the “Kings Hand” had just died ( I think the queen and her brother were responsible) so the king heads north to ask his friend Lord Stark to be the new Kings hand. As all of this takes place, in another land we learn of the Targaryen’s, who were apparently over thrown or something (they may have killed the kings first love.... cause he sure hinted he liked killing Targaryens) and were plotting their return to power.

One of my Favorite scenes happened late in the episode, when the Queen’s Dwarf Brother, Tyrion and Lord Stark’s bastard son, Jon Snow, have a brief conversation and Tyrion advises him to embrace the fact that he is a bastard and no one can ever use it to harm him. Jon Snow asks “What would a Dwarf know of being a bastard” and Tyrion answers “All dwarves are bastards in the eyes of their fathers”. I just thought that was a great scene showing a shrewd wisdom on Tyrion’s part and Jon Snow is one of my Favorite Charecters so far.

Ok....HE PUSHED THE KID OUT THE FRIGGIN WINDOW!!!???? holy crap!!! In a way you knew it was coming but part of you was still going “neh...he cant do that” and sure enough he does. The he is the Queens brother...and he and the queen were up in a tower “getting to know each other better” when one of the Stark children climbs the tower and discovers them. Well the Queens brother catches the boy and then nonchalantly pushes him out the window while saying “the things I do for love” wow...do I hate this guy.

As I have said, I loved so much about this first episode, I pray it continues to be as solid. I enjoyed it on various geek levels as well, I thought the costuming was fantastic, from the black of the Knight’s watch, to the Gilded armor of the people from King’s Point (Though who the hell was the guy in the black armor with the Grumpy Bear helmet?) I was impressed. I have to say that the fashions of House stark are my Favorite so far.

For those of you who have never read the books, Give it a go, you won’t be disappointed.

My Zombie Load out.....

What would you carry into the frightening landscape of the Zombpocalypse... The question was asked while we were at the home of Lord and Lady Aravan and I wish we had more time to geek over it. I thought about it carefully and decided the following.

First to Level set... My ground rules were I could only choose from weapons I had.Second, many people who do this sort of exercise have never really had to carry A Weapon let alone Weapons and their corresponding ammunition for any real length of time so I decided to choose based on the fact that I would eventually find myself walking.

My Rifle.... for I would only carry one... would, by necessity by a AR15 (5.56). Why? you ask, simple every police department and national guard until throughout the nation either A. use a AR15/m4/m16 or a rifle that fires 5.56, so this gives you a source to scrounge parts and ammo. The AR is not my favorite rifle, not by a long shot but you got to go with the most common (IMHO).

The real question is, which AR do I take, I have a COLT SP1 with a A1 upper and full length barrel ( tricked out to Vietnam Specs) and I have a Bushmaster lower and a A1 “XM177” upper making it a carbine (16” barrel) with collapsing stock. one is compact and handy in tight spaces, the other gives me a bit more range in my opinion.

I think I would take the longer rifle, I am under the impression that the carbine is 5 times as loud ( just due to the muzzle being closer to your head) then the longer and I might need some range when Zombie comes to shove. I only have a few 30 round mags, but I have a whole mess of 20 round mags so I think I would be OK. So my colt SP1 (AR15) it would be.

Pistol...or in this case Pistols...like a moron I will have decided to carry 2 of them. The first would be my Berretta 92F, Its 9mm and has High capacity mags. 9mm will be common enough and the 92f or clones are pretty common as well. The second, will be my Colt 1911 45ACP... I love the .45 and couldn't bare to be without it... so I would be a total idiot and burden myself with two pistols.

So those are the weapons I would go into the harsh night of the Zombpocalpyse with. Facing the the hordes of the walking dead to the sharp report of 3 weapons used by the US military.

A place holder of sorts.....

I am posting something right here...right now... so I can say I have posted something. I am getting ready to go to one of the little cog's soccer game so I can't put anything to voluminous but here it is. Stay tuned for more from the Clockwinder network.

In the mean time.... Miss Betty Grable.

The fastest hunk of junk in the Galaxy....

Our next Clockwinder favorite was a bit of a tough one... What is my Favorite Spaceship, Merchant class. You may be saying “Merchant Class?! come on ! thats easy” but it really wasn’t.

Think of the choices you have, The Serenity, a Firefly class transport that gave its name to a movie and class name to a series. Serenity was practically a charecter in her own right, with her own problems and rising to the occasion when needed. She would have been a solid choice.

Then there is the “Red Dwarf” from the BBC series of the same name. A super huge cargo ship that seems to have a little bit of everything ( but not enough Kristen Kachanski... sorry Dave). Where as the “Red Dwarf” may not have been a Special Effects wonder, you bought into it and its crew.

But my choice as favorite is probably no surprise at all, The Millennium Falcon, the beat up old YT-1300 freighter of the famous Han Solo. I first glimpsed her sitting in hanger bay 94 when our heroes approached here (and before the addition of the Jabba the Hutt scene in the Spec Edtn) but never had luke’s adverse reaction to her. It was love at first sight.

Her dents and scratches do not detract from her beauty, they enhance it and give her character. The interior... dirty impact pads and burned out panels... add to her mystic like qualities. She is fast...”how fast?”... lets explain it this way, Han jumps into hyperspace, comes into the crew area, has some playful force related banter and then they are entering the Alderon system...ZOOOOOOOM!! dat is fast.

And she has bite, two quad mounts and apparently some hidden blasters here and there just to keep people guessing and in ROTJ we see she is armed with missiles. Her way of saying “You and who’s army?”

In ESB we get to see more of her battered interior and the fact that she is feeling the years... but when it counts, this ship dodges and weaves, zooms and blast better then any out there. I salute you Millennium falcon... as the Clockwinder’s favorite Merchant class vessel.

GASP!!!

Sorry Clockwatchers, truth is I actually have been playing a new computer game and that has taken out of my writing time. Poor bloody excuse I know but I shall endeavor to get back on the Clockwork bandwagon.

For those of you that have miss me....rest assured that I have missed you as well :::whimper:::.

It is starting to be springish and I find myself in need of a lawn mower. The old craftsmen fell apart and no parts were available for it so it looks like I need to go out and buy one.

The Clocklings are both playing sports now... Track and Soccer ... so that will make things a little more hectic but it will also give me some time to listen to some books while At practice... the ying and yang thing.

Why The John Wayne Photo? Why Not? its him in "the Searchers" and if you havent seen it, you should.