I will, however, celebrate today as "Kill A Commie For Mommy Day." For it was today 68 years ago, that Ethel and Julius Rosenberg were EXECUTED for espionage. They were responsible for passing U.S. nuclear secrets to the Soviets, ultimately creating our main nuclear nemesis. They were both FRIED in the electric chair at Sing-Sing Prison in Ossining, NY.
Now if only we could get back to permanently removing Commies from consuming precious oxygen.
For general, commercial, and military aviation, because they ALL fly directly over my yellow house. The military flights are my favorite. Multiple pairs of F-15 Eagles out of Barnes AFB. Mostly during the day but also night training. They'll spend a good half hour at a time some nights "dogfighting" high above my house. If you happen to be outside when they head back, you can observe the parade of jets heading northwest at their cruising altitude. I have counted as many as 8 in four pairs. Then there are the CT ANG C-130's out of Bradley. Always in pairs they head out to the east around mid-morning, and west back to Bradley in late afternoon, again right over my house. Every once in a while, they do the low altitude stuff on the return flight, zooming over my house at 500 feet. THAT is extremely cool, but tends to upset some folks in town. My wife saw one do that while driving once and she thought it was going down. She came in the door and asked if there was a plane crash. Then there are the helicopters. Blackhawks, Chinooks, and private/charters. The non-military ones are pretty regular, and we see mostly single Blackhawks for military. Which takes me to why this post.
Earlier today, I heard helicopters coming from the west. It was a flight of six; 3 Blackhawks followed by 3 Chinooks up around 2500 feet. Normally I see them solo. Then, about 1/2 hour ago I heard a low vibration that got louder and louder. I went out on the deck and sure enough, it was the 3 Chinooks heading back to the west. Their altitude was lower than earlier. A few minutes later, I heard the distinct sound of the Blackhawks as they went by at about the same altitude.
I only flew in a whirlybird once, and that was in the military. It was an aircraft familiarization flight in a UH-1 Huey. We took off from Westover AFB and headed north along the Kommiecticut River up to Vermont and back. We flew just over the treetops and I remember waving to some kids in their backyard. I was seated in the bench seat on the side facing out the open door, with a canvas strap across our laps "for safety." The pilot banked pretty steep a couple of times, where first I was looking at the sky, then at the ground. It was very exciting.
For a long time before joining the Patriot Guard Riders, using a stupid but personal reason, I kept my military service on the down low. Being "just a reservist" that served one enlistment in peace time, and never overseas, I thought was inconsequential and never worth mentioning. Boy did I hear about that... from a combat wounded Viet Nam vet no less. He scolded me good and hard, because according to him being sent to combat is the luck of the draw. Support units and personnel are just as important as Special Forces or Rangers in the giant scheme of things. Plus, he reminded me that I signed the same blank check he did payable to Uncle Sam up to and including my life, whether a commo guy in a reserve unit, the 123rd Mess Kit Repair Depot, or Green Berets. Anyone at anytime can find themselves in the shit fighting for their lives.
So this exerpt of Patton's speech from just before D-Day smacked me in the face when I read it, and it felt like it was directed at me. I give the H/T to The Tactical Hermit for posting about this and giving me another gentle reminder.
“All of the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters, either. Every single man in this Army plays a vital role. Don’t ever let up. Don’t ever think that your job is unimportant. Every man has a job to do and he must do it. Every man is a vital link in the great chain. What if every truck driver suddenly decided that he didn’t like the whine of those shells overhead, turned yellow, and jumped headlong into a ditch? The cowardly bastard could say, ‘Hell, they won’t miss me, just one man in thousands.’ But, what if every man thought that way? Where in the hell would we be now? What would our country, our loved ones, our homes, even the world, be like? No, Goddamnit, Americans don’t think like that. Every man does his job. Every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit, is important in the vast scheme of this war. The ordnance men are needed to supply the guns and machinery of war to keep us rolling. The Quartermaster is needed to bring up food and clothes because where we are going there isn’t a hell of a lot to steal. Every last man on K.P. has a job to do, even the one who heats our water to keep us from getting the G.I. shits'"