Category: Well I thought it was funny!
The Type VIIC U-boat was considered the state of
the art at the end of World War II. Photo by Wassen.
World War II saw the most profound technological advancements in military history. That’s where we got assault rifles, jet combat aircraft, ballistic missiles, and nuclear weapons. WWII also saw the widespread employment of submarines.
The modern combat submarine was really introduced during the First World War. The sinking of the Lusitania by U-20 in May of 1915 helped make WWI a truly world war. However, the world really didn’t get good at submarine warfare until the 1940s.
Technical Challenges
Building a functional and effective transoceanic submarine involved solving literally countless little problems. Figuring out how to let some fifty guys eat, sleep and breathe for weeks on end, both on the surface and submerged, while simultaneously sinking Allied shipping was a Gordian chore. One of those countless little problems was what to do with human waste.
That seems pretty straightforward on the surface. The ocean is a pretty big place. Most submarines, in general, and U-boats, in particular, carried a wastewater tank much like that of a modern RV.
In quiet moments, sailors would simply pump the tank empty straight into the sea. However, these tanks took up weight and space, both of which were at a premium on subs. As a result, German naval engineers contrived a solution.
The answer was a high-tech series of high-pressure valves. Once a sailor did his business, he could direct the waste overboard by opening and closing these valves, even while cruising submerged. That was great, but the system was complicated.
So much so that there was a guy on board whose job was to safely flush the commode. I can only imagine how that discussion with the recruiter went. Be all that you can be …
Kapitanleutnant Karl-Adolf Schlitt, in addition to having a terribly unfortunate name, did not enjoy a particularly
stellar U-boat command. Public domain.
Nature Calls
U-1206 was a Type VIIC boat launched toward the end of the war. It had all the latest bells and whistles, including a snorkel and a fancy submerged toilet.
After a very brief shakedown, U-1206 launched on its first combat patrol on April 6, 1945, under the command of Kapitanleutnant Karl-Adolf Schlitt. Eight days later, while cruising submerged at 200 feet, Captain Schlitt needed to take a dump.
Service as a submarine commander is one of the most challenging jobs available for a military officer. You operate for long periods without contact with higher headquarters and are expected to be able to seize the initiative.
Sub commanders are unrepentant type A individuals. In this case, Cpt. Schlitt figured he knew how to use his own toilet. Only he didn’t.
This was an admittedly complicated piece of kit. Once he got flummoxed, Cpt. Schlitt called for the toilet flushing guy. He quickly explained the problem, but the toilet operator misunderstood the details.
He operated the valves in the wrong sequence and allowed a deluge of seawater and sewage to flow back into the boat through the toilet. Gravity still being in effect, all this foul stuff promptly flooded the battery compartment.
These batteries were never intended to get wet. Once the batteries flooded, they began to give off great volumes of toxic chlorine gas. Chlorine gas was used as a chemical warfare agent during WWI. Cpt. Schlitt had to either surface his boat or see his entire crew asphyxiated.
It Gets Worse
April 1945 was a hard time to be a U-boat crewman. While the early years of the war saw unfettered success against Allied shipping convoys, by mid-1945, the Allies had invested vast resources in countering the U-boat threat. Surface vessels, jeep carriers and long-range patrol planes scoured the combat zones searching for U-boats.
U-1206 was in quite a state. The crew had to jettison the ready torpedoes to establish positive buoyancy, given the extensive flooding. As soon as they reached the surface, they opened all the hatches and turned on the fans in an effort to clear the deadly gas. It was in this awkward configuration that they were discovered by a British patrol plane.
I couldn’t find a specific reference to the type of British aircraft involved, but they were most frequently at this point in the war American-made B-24 Liberators.
These massive four-engine bombers typically carried radar systems to aid in locating submarines as well as aerial depth charges to assist in killing them. This plane rolled hot on U-1206 without hesitation. Cpt. Schlitt knew he was doomed.
In his defense, the entrails of a U-boat were
pretty complicated. Photo by James Steakley
A Costly Mistake
One German sailor was killed in the attack. A further three drowned, trying to reach the shore. The remaining 46, including Cpt. Schlitt were made prisoners of war by the British.
Sinking your own U-boat because you couldn’t figure out how to flush the toilet just looks bad. Cpt. Schlitt subsequently denied any role in the sinking despite reports from his crew to the contrary.
His official report said, “I was in the engine room, when at the front of the boat there was a water leak. What I have learned is that a mechanic had tried to repair the forward WC’s outboard vent. I would say — although I do not have any proof — that the outer vent indicator either gave false readings or none at all.” Who knows?
Kapitanleutnant Karl-Adolf Schlitt survived a three-year internment and eventually went home to study law. He worked in a variety of public service roles over his long career after the war, eventually dying of natural causes in 2009 at age 90.
Schlitt carried with him the distinction of having been the only U-boat skipper to lose a submarine due to a misadventure with the toilet.
Categories
Ron White anyone ?
Report on man killed by Glacier National Park grizzly contains disturbing new details
By
FILE: A grizzly bear in Glacier National Park, Mont
A surprise night time encounter with a grizzly bear led to the death of Anthony Pollio in Glacier National Park this spring, according to a new report containing previously undisclosed details of the attack
Compiled by the Interagency Grizzly Bear Committee, the board of review report describes how evidence at the scene helped investigators reconstruct what led to the incident on May 3. “The attack was likely brief and intense and not prolonged,” * the report reads.
*(No shit !)
With Lake McDonald 4,300 feet below, trees burned by the 2017 Sprague Fire stand along the steep Mount Brown Lookout Trail in Glacier National Park, Mont., on Sept. 17, 2019.
Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images
Members of the review board included bear experts from state and federal wildlife agencies, as well as Glacier National Park’s carnivore biologist and chief ranger.* A report is required after any human fatality caused by a grizzly bear.
*(You do have to know that this “report” had to cost us Taxpayers a shit load of money!!)
Pollio, a 33-year-old man from Florida, was hiking the Mount Brown Lookout trail, one of the steepest in the park, alone. According to messages with friends and family sent before the attack, he planned to hike to the lookout and watch the sunset.
(Insert Florida man joke here!)
Investigators believe he was descending the trail, known for its jigsaw of standing and dead trees, in the dark around 9:30 p.m. “Darkness and dead fall on the trail would have prevented the bear and Mr. Pollio from seeing each other until they were very close,” the report reads.
A view of the attack site in Glacier National Park, Mont., from below the trail looking upslope.
Interagency Grizzly Bear Committee
It’s unknown if Pollio was making noise* or if he was using his cellphone as a flashlight when the bear, a male grizzly thought to be at least 15 years old, charged.
*(Yeah, I guess that his screaming does not count!)
The report confirmed that Pollio was able to deploy a full can of bear spray.* However, it’s unknown if the spray made contact with the bear. The bear killed Pollio via injuries to his head after a short pursuit. Search and rescue teams found the bear spray in the bushes just off the trail before finding Pollio’s remains.
(I am convinced that some bears like the spray just like my son Willie loves extreme hot sauces on his chow!)
DNA from bear hair and bear scat* collected at the scene matched a grizzly bear with no previous history of human conflict, aggression or capture, described as a “life-long resident of the park.” Investigators found no evidence of predation or caching at the scene, and no bears were found in the area during the search or investigation process.
(A word known as shit or what was left of Poor Pollio’s recycled remains by the rest of us!)
Glacier National Park did not immediately respond to questions regarding whether any management action * was taken, or will be taken, against the bear.
*(Shooting the bear!)
FILE: A road sign warning of dangerous grizzly bears alongside the highway near Glacier National Park, Mont.
Buddy Mays/Getty Images
Bear experts made numerous recommendations for future hikers to avoid similar surprise encounters with bears. That includes making noise by talking, clapping or singing, which is “critical when visibility and hearing are limited.” Traveling in a group is always recommended*, as “groups of people are usually noisier and less likely to surprise bears.”
*(That way more large caliber guns can then be carried!)
Experts also suggest not traveling when bears are most active at night, dawn or dusk.
(No scat Kemosabe ! Now I don’t know if a gun would of helped. But I do know that wandering around alone in the woods is just asking for it! Grumpy)
Now I am sorry if this upsets the family or friends of the dead. But being a weak person, I just could not pass up the poor writing of this incident ! Or the frankly really dumb actions of poor old Pollio in the field! Mea Culpa, Grumpy
Redneck buddies form an unshakeable bond. ChatGPT image.
Edgar Simmons and Cletus Bellefontaine had been best friends since the church nursery. They grew up together, gutted through as much school as was demanded of them, and eventually married. Their wives were large, intolerant of foolishness, and best friends in their own right. Edgar and Cletus kept food on the table, serving ably as sign holders for the county road department.
Success turns on perspective. To the outside world, Edgar and Cletus were just barely scraping by. However, they met their respective mortgages and had enough left over for beer and fishing gear. The two buddies felt themselves inordinately blessed.
Prep
“Pass me another Miller Light, brother,” Cletus said amiably. WWE SmackDown roared in the background. Brutus Creed was about to go mano a mano with El Grande Americano, and the crowd was getting properly tooled up. Edgar’s expansive plasma-screen TV caught every nuance. It was almost like being physically in the ring. The effect was all the more compelling during the women’s matches.
“Cooler’s empty, loser,” Edgar responded without taking his eyes off the screen. “You’ll have to go hit the fridge. Get me another bag of Fritos while you’re up.”
Cletus was awfully comfortable.
“This is why God made wives,” he said flatly. Both men snickered.
“Jimmie Earl!” he shouted. “Be a dear and bring us some more beers and another bag of Fritos.”
The raw potato was half the size of a football. It flew out of the kitchen and crossed the living room in an instant. Jimmie Earl Bellefontaine had played competitive softball in junior college, and she still had an arm.
The heavy projectile caught Cletus behind the right ear and lifted him bodily out of the tattered recliner. The man fell unceremoniously across the coffee table and landed in a heap on the floor. Beer cans and empty chip bags skittered across the dingy carpet. Edgar reflexively leaped to his feet and took cover behind his wife’s favorite potted plant. He hoped that Pauline’s weakness for horticulture would spare him from a similar fate.
“Dang, woman!” Cletus said as he lifted himself to his feet with difficulty. His head swam from the well-placed blow. “I am forever amazed at that chick’s rarefied sense of hearing.”
“Yeah,” Edgar said as he surveyed the mess. “You know, it might be best if we wrapped up anyway. It’ll be an early day tomorrow, and them fish ain’t gonna catch themselves.”
With that, both men smiled. They would sooner fish than breathe, and the weather forecast was sublime. Cletus collected Jimmie Earl and bid his best friend goodnight.
History in the Making
The specific location of the Fishing Spot was a secret more closely guarded than the President’s nuclear launch codes. Edgar’s beat-up Ford pickup bounced to a stop underneath a familiar elm. Cletus moved to unlock the chain that secured their old john boat to a nearby tree, while Edgar unloaded the fishing gear and beer cooler. Unbeknownst to both men, however, danger lurked in the skies nearby.
“Sensors detect two bipedal life forms, Captain,” the reptilian helmsman hissed across his bifurcated tongue. “One creature is preparing an aquatic vessel. The other is preoccupied with a piece of equipment of some sort. It could be a weapon.”
The mission of the Archon-class scout ship and her twelve-lizard crew was armed reconnaissance. Their objective was to compile a detailed assessment of the indigenous life forms on this planet and relay that information back to the waiting invasion fleet via tachyon burst transmission. This would be their first encounter with the native bipeds.
“Bring us into position within range of both creatures,” the Captain hissed. “Ready photon cannons. Let us observe their response, but be prepared for any eventuality.”
Scaly three-fingered appendages tightened on sundry controls.
Edgar noticed the bizarre little object first. It was maybe three inches across and resembled a dark grey hockey puck as it hovered motionless some twenty feet distant. The compact object made no sound.
“Cletus, you seein’ this?” he said. “That thing some kind of drone? You don’t suppose anybody else has got designs on our fishing spot, do you?”
Cletus looked up from his tacklebox and spotted the curious little object in an instant. Without a moment’s hesitation, he snatched up his skulling paddle and advanced.
“Ain’t nobody stealing our fishing spot,” he said with authority. “We been fishing this place since we were weaned. It’s ours by rights of eminent domain.”
Neither man really knew what eminent domain meant. They likely intended squatter’s rights more accurately, but the gist was there. Cletus raised his wooden paddle and prepared to strike.
Rednecks for the very soul of the American Deep South. I proudly count myself among their ranks.
“Captain!” the helmsman exclaimed. “The creature is positioning itself to attack!”
“Right,” the senior officer said flatly. They had trained for this eventuality. “Forward batteries, fire as you bear. I had hoped not to have to resort to violence, but this will send an indelible message.”
There was a modest blue spark, and the air reeked of ozone. In an instant, Cletus Bellefontaine was simply gone. All that remained were his two pig boots, smoke trailing lazily up from the gory stumps where they were insulated by the rubber. Edgar processed the scene in an instant.
“Sweet holy crap!” the stunned man exclaimed. There was no time to grieve. Reaching through the open door of the pickup, Edgar retrieved his well-worn Remington slide-action 12-bore.
He cycled the action by rote and had the front bead on the malevolent hockey puck before the reptiles could respond. Edgar Simmons had a near-supernatural gift for wing shooting. At twenty feet, his tight bolus of number sixes struck the little starship squarely. The snuff can-sized cylinder spun crazily away and plopped into the lake without further fanfare.
Edgar cycled his gun without conscious thought. His ears rang, but his lizard brain was too preoccupied to notice. The confused man switched his gaze between the ringlets now propagating uniformly across the lake and his buddy’s smoldering footwear. He struggled with the decision regarding who to call first.
The tachyon feed had related all of the gory details in real time. The Commodore of the invasion fleet reviewed the pertinent data several times from three systems away before making his decision. He possessed the firepower required to subdue these primitive apes.
However, none of the raw materials to be found on this wet, cold orb justified the expense or effort. He dictated an order to bypass the planet and signed it with a single perfectly manicured claw. He would have a subordinate draft the notices for the families of the lost crew.
Turning his attention back to his tactical plot, the reptilian commander occupied himself with the particulars of fuel reserves and manpower.
A Grandfather* was tossed 8 FEET into the Air by a Bison! Film at 11 !!!
Grumpy
- You would think that somebody who has lived that long to become a Grandfather. Would be old enough to know better!
