Category: A Victory!
This is a Chinook helicopter. It is very expensive.
TZVECL. That same string of random letters read backward is LCEVZT. That’s line 9 on the eye chart at Lyster Army Hospital at Fort Rucker, Alabama.
When I was an Army aviator, I might not have had perfect vision, but I had a killer memory. They never should have left me alone unsupervised in that room. Now, I’ll have 20/20 vision until the sun burns out. In fact, I could now hypothetically read line 9 with my eyes closed.
They told us that wearing contacts was a disqualifying offense. Fortunately, I really did have perfect eyesight when I started flight school. One of my buddies, however, was not quite so blessed. I found out later that he wore contacts to the actual physical that would purportedly slightly reshape his eyes. He then excused himself to go to the restroom just before the eye chart bit. While there, he flushed his contacts down the toilet and proceeded to pass the test. Now that’s bad, I agree. However, he subsequently enjoyed a long and illustrious career flying attack helicopters.
There’s the Way It Ought to Be and There’s the Way It Is
I have Jesus in my heart. I consider myself a man of character. My word is my bond. However, we would have done absolutely anything to fly. Once we started, we would have done absolutely anything to keep doing it. In some cases, that meant a little selective truth management.
They really were Nazis about physical disabilities. Problems with eyes or ears meant having to find a real job. Among the many maladies the flight surgeons really frowned upon was head trauma, resulting in a loss of consciousness. In that world, such an event was a really, really big deal. Now, hold that thought …
Money Makes the World Go ‘Round
One of my Warrant Officer buddies was a simply great guy. Smart, driven, personable and cool, Dave was a warhorse. If something needed to be done right, you just gave it to Dave and got out of his way. He was a great asset to the unit, a superb pilot, and an even better friend. He also just couldn’t get enough of flying.
Dave and I flew Chinook helicopters together. Nowadays, a CH-47F Chinook costs $38 million. The reimbursable rate is around $6,000 per flight hour. Fuel burn in cruise flight is 2,000 to 2,400 pounds per hour. The aircraft carries 1,028 gallons. At my local aerodrome, Jet A costs $5.79 if you pump it yourself. Do the math. Ours was a mind-bogglingly expensive profession. However, we worker nugs didn’t see a whole lot of that cash. At home, we lived on a budget.
Dave took some of his hard-earned cash and bought himself a craptastic little ultralight airplane called a Weedhopper so he could also fly on the weekends. The Weedhopper was little more than a hang glider with a tiny engine. Flying the thing was a fairly austere experience. As were we all, Dave was also bulletproof and immortal. That’s what made him such a good pilot.
This is a WeedHopper. It’s not much of an airplane.
Junior Birdman
One fine Saturday, Dave was wondering how high his little ultralight airplane would go. The machine didn’t have an altimeter. Undeterred, he topped off the tank with fuel, took off, and started climbing at the craft’s maximum rate of climb. And he kept doing that for nearly three hours.
He later admitted that he had no idea how high he got. He said it was really cold and he had a hard time thinking straight. He might have reported seeing the curvature of the earth and mooning the International Space Station. He actually climbed until he ran out of gas. That’s when he realized that coming back down was not going to be a terribly expeditious exercise. It took most of the afternoon to finally reach terra firma. So, how high would it go? He was unsure of the details, but really, really high.
One Monday, Dave showed up for PT looking a bit ragged around the edges. When I inquired regarding the details, he reported that he had inadvertently destroyed his little airplane. We were all crushed for him. He had been out skimming the treetops, turning gasoline into noise. To entertain himself, Dave would zip over the trees and drag his landing gear in the uppermost branches. Now cue the ominous music …
I found out the details much later. One tree was apparently a bit more grabby than expected and snatched the tiny little airplane right out of the sky, crumpling it up like the flimsy diaphanous thing it was. In the process, it also just knocked Dave stupid. He regained consciousness an indeterminate period of time later amidst what was left of his little flying machine. He also never quite got around to telling the flight surgeon about his extracurricular mishap.
Dave went on to a fabulously successful career as an Army aviator. His exciting encounter with the sticky tree never caused him a lick of trouble. It seems what Uncle Sam doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
A veto out of Kentucky is drawing serious pushback from gun rights advocates.
The Citizens Committee for the Right to Keep and Bear Arms is calling Gov. Andy Beshear’s rejection of House Bill 312 a major misstep, arguing it strips young adults of their ability to defend themselves.
At the center of the fight is a simple question: Should 18- to 20-year-olds be allowed to carry for self-defense?
HB 312 would have created a provisional concealed carry license for that age group, giving young adults (who can already vote, serve in the military, and sign contracts) the legal ability to carry a handgun in public.
But Beshear vetoed it. And CCRKBA isn’t holding back.
Chairman Alan Gottlieb called the move “a direct attack on young adults.” He argued that it leaves many (particularly young women) more vulnerable in situations where they may need protection.
He also pushed back on what he described as a broader pattern of denying rights to younger Americans, pointing out that many in this age group are already taking on adult responsibilities, from military service to starting families.
Another flashpoint in the response is how the veto is being framed.
Some coverage has tied Beshear’s decision to the 2023 Old National Bank shooting. But CCRKBA argues that the connection doesn’t hold up. As the attacker in that case was older than the group impacted by the bill.
Instead, the organization says the policy ends up restricting law-abiding young adults, rather than addressing the individuals actually committing violent crimes. Now, attention shifts to the Kentucky legislature.
Lawmakers could move to override the veto when they reconvene, setting up a potential showdown over both the bill itself and the broader question of where Second Amendment rights begin for younger adults.
For now, though, the takeaway is clear: A bill aimed at expanding carry rights is off the table for the moment.
Categories
Old Elmer
In 1911 he attacks a train together with his gang but uses so much explosives to blow up the safe that nothing remains of the loot.
A few months later his escape ends with the police riddling him with gunshots, thus ending his life but not his adventure.
The funeral home that had been entrusted with the body couldn’t find anyone willing to pay for Elmer’s funeral, so they embalmed him, gave him a hat, a rifle and turned him into a local attraction that could be visited for a fee. .
Soon the rumor spreads that putting coins in his mouth brings good luck, so every day visitors fill Elmer with change which is extracted from his body in the evening.
In 1916, 5 years after his death, some relatives showed up to collect the body, but they weren’t real relatives, just some guys who had decided it was the easiest way to take over the local tourist attraction and turn it into a show for their circus. traveling.
Even though Elmer was embalmed, he still showed the signs of aging, so 10 years after his death he underwent a restyling in which he was covered in wax and made up, to be exhibited together with real wax statues in various traveling crime museums to which he was gradually surrendered.
In 1933 it was sold to the producer of an anti-drug film: “Narcotic!” by Dwain Esper who used it as a drug addict’s props for advertising purposes.
In 1949 he takes a break from show business and rests for more than twenty years in a Hollywood warehouse without anyone knowing that he isn’t a real wax figure.
In 1967 he made a cameo in David Friedman’s masterpiece She She’s Freak.
In 1970, now worn out by time and neglect, he was deemed worthless and sold to a house of horrors in Long Beach as a mannequin.
On December 8, 1976, an episode of The Six Million Dollar Man was filmed in that house of horrors.
For stage needs, an assistant director is sent to move Elmer who is hanging from the ceiling.
And one of Elmer’s arms is left in his hand.
He notices that mannequins aren’t usually filled with real bones, real muscles and real cartilage so he decides that maybe it’s time to call the police.
Truman Everts was a 19th-century American public servant who took stewardship of money to some fairly impressive extremes.
Wilderness survival. A river of ink has been spilled on that thorny subject. “Survival Experts” of a variety of stripes have eked lucrative livings out of eating vile stuff on television in the name of besting nature. Reality is a bit different.
I spent more than my share of time in the boonies back when I was a soldier. On a couple of occasions, a handful of mates and I airlifted into the wilds of Alaska to spend a week living on Arctic grayling, ptarmigan, and whatever else we could scrounge. Don’t be impressed with that. Alaska in the summertime makes that pretty darn easy. If nothing else, the entire state is covered in a thin patina of berries.
I completed the Army’s Northern Warfare Mountain Survival course and the USAF Arctic Survival School. They called the latter “Cool School.” I would more accurately refer to it as the “US Air Force Food Appreciation Course.” I actually got hungry enough to eat a boiled rabbit, but that’s a story for another day.
The typical human can actually make it about 30 days without food. However, that’s in a safe, controlled environment. Do that in the 19th-century American wilderness, and something is going to eat your emaciated butt for dinner. Now, hold that thought …
Truman Everts’ wilderness adventures captivated America. This is an image from a period article on the subject.
The Guy
Born in 1816 in Burlington, Vermont, Truman Everts was one of six brothers. His Dad was a ship’s captain. During the American Civil War, Truman earned a position as assessor of Internal Revenue for the Montana Territory. Abraham Lincoln signed his appointment. He served in this role from 1864 until 1870.
I guess as a sort of retirement gift to himself, in 1870, Everts struck out as part of an expedition led by Nathaniel Langford and Henry Washborn into what would eventually become Yellowstone National Park. On September 9, Everts fell behind for some reason. In short order, he lost his packhorse along with most of his grub. Now bereft of both sustenance and equipment, Everts trekked along the southern shore of Yellowstone Lake in an effort at locating his comrades.
Meanwhile, Langford and Washborn were actively trying to find the lost tax man. They fired their weapons into the air and built giant fires. They had a pre-established rendezvous point. However, once the expedition arrived, there was no sign of Everts. Eventually, they just gave up.
Mount Everts in Yellowstone National Park named after Truman Everts.
A Serendipitous Turn of Events
On October 16, some 37 days after Everts wandered away from the group, a pair of local mountain men — George Pritchett and “Yellowstone Jack” Baronett — happened upon this half-dead tax assessor. The poor man was delirious, frostbitten, and burned from hovering around natural geothermal vents in an effort to keep warm. He weighed a mere ninety pounds.
Baronett and Pritchett had actually been dispatched to recover Everts’ body. Imagine their surprise when they discovered him wandering about, delirious, some 50 miles from where he had first become separated from his party. One of the two rescuers stayed behind to help nurse Everts back to health while the other trekked a further 75 miles to get help.
Everts had subsisted mostly on raw thistle roots. This particular plant was subsequently named “Everts’ Thistle” in his honor. Henry Washburn later christened a mountain peak near Mammoth Hot Springs “Mount Everts” in recognition of his remarkable feat of survival. Everts penned a book titled “Thirty-Seven Days of Peril” that gained him some modest notoriety. However, all was not unicorns and butterflies for Truman Everts.
Everts harrowing adventure still available in print.
Those two mountain men weren’t out hunting Everts’ moldy old corpse just for giggles. There was a reward for his recovery. However, Everts himself insisted that the reward not be disbursed. He claimed that he had been fine and would have successfully walked out under his own steam if only they had let him be.
Given his fame, Everts was offered the position of first superintendent of Yellowstone National Park. While this was a prestigious thing, Everts turned down the offer as it paid quite literally nothing. He instead took a job in a post office in Hyattsville, Maryland. This unkillable guy eventually succumbed to pneumonia in his home in 1901. In the end, Truman Everts was indeed ever the tight-fisted tax man.