Comments by "Colonel K" (@Paladin1873) on "The History Guy: History Deserves to Be Remembered"
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It reminds me of the assassination of Albert Patterson, a disabled WWI hero, lawyer, and crusading reformer who fought political corruption and organized crime in Phenix City, Alabama until he was murdered shortly after winning the Democratic nomination for Alabama Attorney General in 1954 (making him a shoe-in for AG). So outraged were citizens of the state that the governor sent in the National Guard and declared martial law. Over 700 people were indicted for various crimes, of which 400 were convicted and paid fines or served some time, but three of them were charged with the murder of Patterson. This included Chief Deputy Sheriff Albert Fuller, Circuit Solicitor (district attorney) Arch Ferrell, and most stunningly, State Attorney General Si Garrett. Only Fuller was convicted, while Garrett never went to trial, having committed himself to a mental asylum in Texas to avoid prosecution. While there his mental condition deteriorated to the point that he was deemed mentally incompetent to stand trial. In the end Albert Patterson's son, John, was elected state AG and later became governor. A 1955 movie of these events, "The Phenix City Story", is brutally heart-stomping reenactment of the actual events.
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I'm a regular viewer of your program, but this one touched me in a personal way and brought back memories from my early youth. It's hard to believe it has now been over a century since WWI ended. I say this because I can clearly remember, as a small boy, visiting my grandparents in Tampa, Florida every summer. During The Big One my Grandpa had served aboard a Navy minesweeper as a boatswain's mate. After the war he joined the American Legion, serving in a variety of capacities, including Post Commander. Forty years later he remained quite active and still served as a committee member at American Legion Post 5, USS Tampa, on Bay Shore Boulevard. The Post was named after the USS Tampa, in honor of a Coast Guard cutter which was sunk with all hands to a German U-boat in WWI. This was the largest loss of life of US Navy personnel to known enemy action in WWI, and because so many of the crew were Coast Guard, this tiny service suffered the greatest loss of life per size of any branch of service. Being a Navy veteran of the same war, Grandpa always tried to honor and remember these men. Almost every day would find us at the Post, where there was always something exciting for a kid to do. I pretty much had free run of the place, so at any given moment I might be sitting on the old torpedo near the flag pole, helping scrape old paint off the building, shooting pool and sharing a "short" beer with Grandpa (I was about five years old), or watching a few veterans play cards and chat with Grandpa, whom they called Sam. At the end of the day I'd help him fold the American flag and put it away. He was always very serious when we did this, and he taught me how to properly fold and respect the flag, and why it was so important. On membership night I'd help out in the bar (I got pretty good at working the tap and sliding long neck bottles of Budweiser and Busch-Bavarian beer down the slick waxed surface of the bar). Each month the wives prepared large dinners for the great hall, and entire families would show up to participate in the always popular BINGO night, with everyone sitting below the beautifully haunting stained glass memorial of the USS Tampa. On quieter evenings, I would sit on the Post 5 veranda with my grandparents, slowly swaying in the rocking chairs, while watching the lights of ships as they entered and left the harbor, the smell of salt air strong in the warm evening breeze. I loved that old Legion Hall, and each visit there brought a new experience to my young eyes. About the only place I recall being off limits was the second floor, so naturally curiosity got the better of me, and not yet able to read and heed the sign chained across the creaky old staircase, I once sneaked upstairs to discover a musty room full of WWI era parade rifles sitting in wooden racks. Next to them were two old machine guns that now lay silent, coated with years of dust. Like the torpedo, the machine guns were defunct and forgotten relics, but the rifles still performed a solemn duty whenever the Legionnaires were asked to provide an honor guard for the funeral of a comrade, and during Memorial Day services, where they would thunder loudly as a volley of blanks was discharged to salute the fallen. They're all gone now, the veterans, their wives, even the old post itself. Another post was built some years later in a new location. Presumably, they still have the torpedo and the memorial. As for me, I will always have the memories. Thanks, Grandpa.
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You mowed me over with this one. I suffered from a lawnmower accident at 16, and have despised the chore ever since. When I retired I decided not to have a lawn, and instead made a large rock garden with flowers, shrubs, waterfalls, and ponds. Beyond that are pastures and trees. My biggest problem now is keeping the grass at bay, which is accomplished by a combination of weed blocker, mulch, hand weeding, grass trimmers, and horses. It's more irritating and slower than mowing, but I only have to do the manual labor a couple times, once in the spring and again in the summer. if only somebody would invent a weeding robot.
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@solarnaut Sol, I can actually top that. When my wife and I were first married we lived in a small house on my tree farm. All we got was UHF and VHF reception, and it was poor even with the aluminum foil I added to the rabbit ears (it didn't work on the UHF loop antenna). Even though this was in the mid to late 90s, I couldn't afford to add cable or satellite TV, so when we built a larger house, I installed a roof antenna for better reception. I had "cleverly" mounted it to a pole which itself was held in place by two extended brackets that I'd bolted to the outside wall of our second floor bedroom. We soon discovered that the best reception could only be achieved by "tuning" the antenna for each channel. The only way to do this was for me to rotate the antenna, but the only way to rotate it was for me to climb out the rear bedroom window onto the back deck roof, walk to the edge of the house, and carefully lean around the corner so I could just barely grab the pole and twist it. Meanwhile, my wife, who was in our downstairs living room checking the reception, had to repeatedly run up the stairs and shout to me the result of each minor twist. When a major change in antenna direction was required, my only option was to take a short ladder onto the deck roof and use it to climb onto the main roof of the house, then move to the edge of the roof where I could get a good grip on the antenna and rotate it as much as needed. In these situations my wife had to run up the stairs and into the bedroom, lean out the back window, shout the results to me, then dash back downstairs to check the progress before running back up again for the next report. Mind you, this feat was normally performed at night. Rainy nights were particularly challenging.
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In the role of blocking the attacker, yes, the security team failed. In their other roles they succeeded. We studied the photos and video footage of the shooting when I went through protective service training in the USAF a year later. Our instructor pointed out that a police officer assigned to screen the crowd was looking at Reagan instead of the public, thus providing Hinckley an opportunity to penetrate security. As Hinckley opened fire, Secret Service Agent Tim McCarthy spread his body in front of President Reagan and was shot in the abdomen. Meanwhile, the agent in charge, Jerry Parr, quickly shoved Reagan into the limo. As he was doing so, the President was hit by Hinckley's last bullet, which had ricocheted off the armored body of the limousine. According to forensic evidence, had Parr not pushed Reagan so violently into the car, the President would have been struck in the head instead of the arm and abdomen. While racing toward the White House, Reagan's only complaint was of a broken rib which he assumed was caused by Parr's action. But when Parr noticed blood frothing on Reagan's lips, he instantly realized the President had likely been hit in the lung, so he diverted the limo to George Washington Hospital. Collectively, the actions of the Secret Service that day saved Reagan's life. As an interesting aside, Parr first considered becoming a Secret Service agent while still a boy, after watching Ronald Reagan in the 1939 movie "Code of the Secret Service". How's that for coincidence or providence?
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@tundralou The USA did not ratify the 1925 Geneva Gas Protical until 1975. At the time of its signing, several major powers, including the United Kingdom, France, and the Soviet Union, explicitly reserved the right to use the forbidden weapons for retaliatory purposes. Also, the 1925 document failed to address the production, storage, testing, and transfer of the forbidden weapons, a failure that allowed countries such as the Soviet Union and the United States to amass large supplies of chemical and bacteriological agents.
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Excellent review. Now for the nitpicking :) Truman may have said "won" but military medals are not won, for it is not a competition wherein only a few are allowed to be recognized. The CMH, like ever other medal, is earned. On a separate note, I remember reading about the Cochise affair as a boy. I realize that western photos from this time period are either scarce or nonexistent, but the images you used appear to show post-civil war soldiers, based upon the weapons and uniforms. I believe the Army of 1861 was equipped with the 1858 Hardee hats (one side of the brim pinned up), forage caps, and kepis. I don't think any flat brimmed slouch hats were in use at the time, though uniform variations during the conflict were so common that the term "uniform" hardly seemed to apply. Nevertheless, the photos certainly provide a feel for the time period.
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I well remember the Firestone radial tire fiasco of the late 70s. The steel belts on all four of my 500 series tires separated, but when I took the car into a Firestone dealership, they refused to warranty them, claiming my tires weren't part of the recalled lot. I stopped buying Firestones after that. Being a Ford family member, I continued to acquire their vehicles, but they always came factory equipped with Firestone tires. I'd swap them out with Michelins as soon as they wore down sufficiently. When the next round of faulty Firestone tires were recalled because of Explorer rollovers, our local Ford dealership did replace them for free, but they were out of Michelins, so I had to settle for Goodyears (or was it Goodrich, who can keep those two names straight?). That incident was the final straw for Ford, which severed its nearly century long relationship with Firestone. The final indignation for me came when I retired from the Air Force a few years later and tried to rent a U-Haul trailer. Because of the rollover issue, U-Haul refused to rent me anything, despite no longer having Firestone tires on my vehicle.
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Quite true, but at least one movie made during the war did not change the names of the principal characters, and that was "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo". It remains an astonishingly honest film, full of depth, love, fear, bravery, and sacrifice. I still feel the pathos that movie evokes when I reflect on the horrific sacrifices paid by 250,000 Chinese civilians in the aftermath of the raid. Many decades later I watched a film of one of the Doolittle Raiders, who had returned to China to thank the people for their efforts. As he spoke and recounted the price in lives to his audience, he lost his composure and cried. Who woundn't be moved by such a scene.
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"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds -
and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of -
wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind along
and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.
"Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
and, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God."
This sonnet is the official poem of the Royal Canadian Air Force and the Royal Air Force. It was written by John Gillespie Magee, Jr., an American volunteer pilot with the Royal Canadian Air Force in the Second World War, who served in a Spitfire squadron until he was killed on 11 December 1941 after he bailed out too low following a collision with another aircraft near Ruskington, Lincolnshire county, England. He was 19 years old. What a loss to the literary world.
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I would like to correct a popular misconception at the beginning of this video. John Chivington was never a US Army Colonel. He served in the U.S. Volunteers (USV), a sort of forerunner of the National Guard. As with state militia forces, the USV augmented the Regular Army in times of war but was separate from it. No Regular Army unit participated in the Sand Creek Massacre, nor did all of the USV forces join in. Captain Silas Soule refused to obey Chivington's orders, and he stood down his company, but they watched the unfolding horror, which he later described in gory detail at an official Army inquest. His testimony was very damning of Chivington and helped turn the nation against him, thus ruining Chivington's planned political aspirations. Soon afterwards, Soule was murdered in retribution. His killer, Charles Squier, though wounded by Soule, escaped, but suffered a most deserving fate five years later in Central America when his legs were crushed, resulting in gangrene and death. Despite his past crimes, his body was buried in Mississippi with honors.
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Like you, I wasn't aware we lost any Army troops to the Kaiser's U-boats, but I am familiar with the loss of the USS Tampa, which sacrificed itself escorting them. There were no survivors. My grandpa, a WWI Navy veteran, was later the American Legion Post commander in Tampa, FL, where the ship was enshrined in a stain glass display. In 2018, a mural, “A Memorial to the U.S.C.G.C. Tampa and her Crew,’’ was put on permanent public display at the Tampa Bay History Center.
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Please forgive my being a nitpick regarding your excellent condensed histories and biographies, but I'd like to offer a few minor observations. While not publicly demonstrated, the first recorded flight of the Wright Brothers heaver-than-air powered flyer was on Dec 17, 1903. The Quest Expedition left England on 17 Sep 1920. Shackleton died along the journey on 5 Jan 1922. In 1969 a Russian-Italian financed movie, "The Red Tent", was made about the Italia disaster. Peter Finch played Nobile and Sean Connery played Amundsen. While taking some literary license with the actual events, as all films tend to do, it remains a fairly accurate and interesting recreation of the disaster. Two fictional period movies also worth viewing are "The Lost Zeppelin" (1929), whose lead character is patterned after Byrd, and the surprisingly well done (particularly the special effects) Dirigible (1931). The latter was written by famed Naval aviator and early aviation advocate, CMDR Frank "Spig" Wead, about whom was later made a biographical movie starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara.
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Philip Freeman Phil, like you I was born in the 50s and grew up in the south when racism and segregation were still common, but my parents fought against it, as did most Americans from all over the country. Our nation remains a work in progress, and always will be as long as we are free to make our own choices, be they good, bad, or ugly. Each generation has to experiment and learn for itself. We're not born wise, but we can obtain wisdom, even if some never do. Hatred is a strong emotion, but it is one which can ultimately destroy a person, assuming he isn't killed by somebody else first. Racism and bigotry are learned behaviors. They can be taught by your parents, your friends, your teachers, or yourself through your own life experiences. I try not to hate or despise entire groups of people because I know that each person is an individual whose ideas and behavior are not always in lockstep with others in his group. But I must admit that some people are making it awfully hard for me to think kindly or respectfully of them when I see them so many of them behaving badly. I'm always willing to be polite and listen to somebody's story, but I do so while checking my back because sometimes it's just a ruse to get me to drop my guard. Long ago I learned that if you don't feel right about a person or situation you are in, maybe it's time to get the hell away. Most folks are decent, but there wolves among the sheep, so let your prejudices work for you, but don't let them rule you. It's a balancing act, to be sure.
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The cruel reality of war is that height can matter, just as intelligence, strength, daring, and skill matter. It is rarely wise to form units of men who possess a unique characteristic unless the mission calls for that ability. In the case of the Bantams I've little doubt some of those men were killed by opponents who were bigger, just as some larger men died because their size made them easy targets. Audie Murphy was no Sergeant Rock or Sergeant Fury. He was underage, too small, and too light to get into the Marine Corp, and the Army was hesitant to take him, but he managed to bulk up just enough thanks to the nutrition he received during training. He volunteered for the infantry when the airborne refused him, and he went on to become America's most decorated hero of WWII.
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Another bit of buried history can be found at the Battle of Natural Bridge historic site near Tallahassee, FL. It was little more than a skirmish near the end of the Civil War between local militiamen and units of Colored Infantry. The marker that stands on the site states that federal troops numbered 893 (500 reportedly at Natural Bridge), with 21 killed, 89 wounded, and 148 missing. Local militia numbered 595, of whom three were killed, 23 wounded, and none missing. There is a rumor that the 148 missing union troops were in fact captured and executed by furious whites. A similar rumor, but on a grander scale, surrounds the much larger Battle of Olustee a year earlier. Is it history worth exploring and remembering, or is the truth lost to time? I do not know the answer.
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@danielponiatowski7368 Yes, ROTC stands for Reserve Officer Training Corps. The Army, Navy, and Air Force each have their own ROTC programs which are broken into two types. The first is Junior ROTC, which operates in many high schools, grades 9 - 12, with students typically being ages 14 - 18. The second is Senior ROTC, which is a college level program that offers a commission as a 2nd lieutenant or ensign (Navy) to those who successfully complete it. In both programs the members are called cadets, except in the Navy/Marine program where they are addressed as midshipmen. It is typical for a state funded college or university to have one or more service Senior ROTC programs on or near campus. Some private colleges also run Senior ROTC programs. I went to Georgia Tech and we had all three service programs. I was in Air Force ROTC. In high school I was in the Army Junior ROTC program (typically high schools only offer one service program option). There is no service commitment for those who participate in Junior ROTC. For those who join Senior ROTC, the service commitment does not begin until the last two years of the program, so an individual can opt out of the program at any point prior to that. Any member who fails college or drops out of Senior ROTC during the last two years of the program is subject to induction into that service as an enlisted member for up to four years.
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Around 1959 my Dad and a couple of his friends each chipped in $200 to purchase a 1929 Curtiss Robin that one of them had seen wasting away on a farm in central Florida. The man who owned it had bought it many years before to haul his family and possessions cross-country to his new farm, whereupon, no longer having a need for it, he parked it in a corner of his property and built a hangar around it. After acquiring legal ownership from the farmer, my Dad, who was a licensed A&E (aircraft & engine) mechanic, removed the wings from it because the hangar supports blocked them, and they feared if they simply moved the supports, the roof would collapse onto the plane. They put the Robin on a flatbed truck and drove it 175 miles back to our hometown airport in north central Florida where they spent the next two years rebuilding it in an open bay hangar they had constructed for this purpose. When the 225 HP Continental engine was inspected, they discovered it was in excellent shape and only needed new oil before they could fire it up. All the fabric was rotted, and after they stripped it off they found only a few small sections of the tubular frame had rusted and required replacing. New linen was fitted over the fuselage and wings, and then coated with dope before applying the paint. Their biggest concern at this point was finding replacement tires, which were actually large rimmed 1927 automobile tires. As luck would have it, the owner of a local tire dealership remembered still having an unsold set of 1927 Chevrolet tires in the back of his store which fit perfectly. With a beautiful new blue fuselage and yellow wings, finished with a hand-painted robin on the tail (courtesy of my grandmother, who was an artist), this rare four-seat Robin was ready to take flight again. And fly it did. It lifted off the ground like a homesick angel, though after half an hour behind that thundering Continental engine on a hot Florida summer day it felt more like we were headed to the other place. It was a roomy beast which featured dual stick controls in front and car windows you could roll up and down. We used to take it to airshows around the region, and after several years of fun, the group sold it for about 60 times what they paid for it. As the years passed I would occasionally see her listed in the trades for sale again, each time priced much higher than before. I've been told old 563N now sits in museum somewhere. I certainly hope so. I would hate to think she ever suffered the fate of so many of her brethren, forgotten hulks scattered about the fields, forests, and junkyards of America, or other parts unknown.
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I have an unusual Colt revolver in my collection that has stumped me and the Colt historian I spoke with. It is a Colt Official Police 38-200 that was factory acquired by the British Purchasing Commission in 1941. As far as I can tell, the markings and dimensions are all original except for the grips and a missing lanyard swivel. What makes it unusual is the barrel and cylinder were made for the 38 Special cartridge, which is dimensionally narrower and longer than the 38-200 cartridge used by the British military at the time. Despite the wrong chambering, the barrel is marked 38-200. I once read an online article that in the rush to satisfy the British, Colt did use standard 38 Special barrels instead of true 38-200 barrels, though I cannot verify this claim to be accurate. I suppose it is theoretically possible, given the rather anemic nature of the 38-200 load, but it does seem like it would cause potential accuracy problems. I would have accepted this explanation as plausible except for the fact that the revolver’s cylinder is also chambered in 38 Special. I know many postwar gunsmiths altered 38-200 cylinders to 38 Special by boring them through to accept the longer case, but the result was always an oversized chamber which caused case splitting. The chambers in this cylinder are a perfect fit for a 38 Special cartridge and include a step inside to prevent a 357 Magnum cartridge from being inserted. Further, since a 38-200 round is too fat to go into any of the chambers, this cannot be an altered 38-200 cylinder. I can only think of two possible explanations for this anomaly. Either this is a factory mismarked 38 Special (there was a war on) or else somebody later replaced the cylinder (but not the numbered crane) with a 38 Special cylinder. The condition of the cylinder matches that of the rest of the pistol, so I’m inclined to think it might be original to the revolver unless Colt marked the Purchasing Commission cylinders in some way. You’d think the British acceptance inspector would have checked cylinders and bores with a gauge before approving them, but who knows, given the exigencies of the time. To date it remains a mystery gun.
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This episode was very uplifting because it reminded me of the only electrical elevator we had in our small town in the 1960s. It was in the five-story Masonic building and was operated by an elderly black woman who opened and closed the cage door and managed the operating lever. We also had a rope and pulley operated cargo lift elevator in our two-story hardware store, which was certified annually by a state inspector. We used it from the late 1920s until the 1970s, when the state decertified it. Because we could no longer lift material upstairs, the upper floor storage room became frozen in time. The few items we could store upstairs had to be manually carried up the staircase, but eventually rain rot through the roof made it unsafe to use the second floor for this purpose. This presented a bit of a problem because the lavatory was on the second floor, so in order to use it one had to be careful where to step, lest a foot went through a floorboard. Everything began to decay, including an old 48 star flag, unused display cases, a glass cutting table, and sales record books dating back to 1909 (a different store had been used across the street prior to the construction of the new store around 1929). In the end an electrical spark ignited a fire that burned the place to the ground. Aside form a safe, the only other things I salvaged were a few hundred bricks from the outer wall which I used to pave a walkway in front of my house. When I sold my home and moved away, I took a couple of leftover bricks as a reminder of a time and place that is no more. All this because of a a faulty elevator.
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The Hamilton-Burr duel contains many controversies, not the least of which is the dueling pistol set itself. These pistols belonged to Hamilton's brother-in-law and contained a feature which allowed the shooter to set the trigger so that a slight touch would discharge it. Some have speculated Burr was unaware of this fact and instead fired his gun using the customary 10-12 pound trigger pull, an act which could have adversely affected his aim. Others claim Hamilton attempted to use the "hair trigger" feature to his advantage but misjudged its sensitivity, thus inadvertently allowing his shot to discharge prematurely and go wild. On his deathbed Hamilton denied he used the lighter trigger pull feature. As far as we know, Burr made no mention either way, nor ever claimed any intention not to shoot Hamilton. So what we are left with is pure speculation. If the character of each man is accurately represented by written history (a questionable assumption at best), it is easier to assume Hamilton granted quarter where Burr did not, thus putting to the test the notion of Burr's ruthless ambition. Had it not been for the duel, it is possible suspicion about Burr's future endeavors would have amounted to naught. Instead, he is regarded today as being just one step short of another Benedict Arnold, while Hamilton is lionized. The truth, most likely, rests somewhere in between.
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@TheHistoryGuyChannel It depends upon what one considers suitable diversity. Each military unit is a team, but the team needs clear standards in order to become cohesive. If a member falls outside these standards, the unit suffers. But this does not mean everyone must be alike. As one Marine General put it, I don't want to command a squad of eggheads or a squad of dimwits. The former will waste too much time debating their best course of action, while the latter will rush forward without a plan. In a balanced organization, the leader will have sufficient intelligence and determination to quickly formulate a plan, while the team will be of sufficient skill and grit to willingly trust him and execute it. In the case of the Bantams, one gets the impression that many of them suffered from an inferiority complex which drove them to act rashly, hence the brawling to prove their mettle. This was certainly true of the 442nd Infantry Regiment of WWII which was composed mainly of Japanese-Americans (Nisei). It was highly decorated, but it suffered many casualties, and, as several veterans later admitted, they went to extremes to prove they were just as American as anyone else.
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I live in Montana and have read several accounts and books on the operations of various vigilance committees around here. According to these sources, in the case of the "Plummer Gang", each member was tried before a miner's court. Some men were freed by the court, but most were convicted and hanged. While this may seem illegal by today's standards, there was no other law available in their communities at that time. The general consensus since then has been that Plummer was guilty as charged. This assumption is based partly upon eyewitness testimony and on the fact that the murder spree began after Plummer was elected sheriff and ended with his death. His family has long proclaimed his innocence, but one need only look at Plummer's past violent history to realize he was easily capable of murder. In many ways he was the precursor to another more famous legend of the old west, a tuberculous-ridden gambler and dentist by the name of Doc Holiday. Today, the history of early "civilized" life in Montana has been preserved by the Montana Historic Commission which operates a seasonal tourist attraction in the twin mining communities of Nevada City and Virginia City. Visitors can ride a small gauge railroad between the two towns (only a mile apart), tour over 150 period buildings that have been relocated to the two sites, enjoy some fine dining, pan for gold, spend the night in a historic hotel, ride a stagecoach, get photographed in 1900 costumes, shop for souvenirs, and enjoy live performances at the local theater. Oh, and everyday the crowd gets to participate in a reenactment of an actual arrest and hanging of a convicted murderer. 3-7-77 (If you don't know what these mysterious numbers mean, you aren't alone, but you can do a quick Google search to learn more)
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In a book I read about the OSS in WWII there is a section describing their operations in Yugoslavia. One interesting aspect of it was the different strategic goals of the US and the British at that time. British operatives were adamant that supplies only go to the Chetnik forces, while American operatives were willing to support anyone who would fight the Axis. The British desired a postwar Europe devoid of communist governments, while the Americans simply wanted to end the war as quickly as possible, the future cost be damned. The result was the Partisans had a better relationship with the OSS than they did with British SOE. This was well illustrated by an incident where the OSS had to intervene to free some SOE men captured by Partisan elements. Eventually, the British, for more immediate pragmatic reasons, did start supplying the Partisans. One would think the Partisans would have been more appreciative of the USA's efforts in all of this, but Tito, ever the deft political operator, simply told his people that the supplies marked "US" were actually an abbreviation for USSR, their true socialist friend and supporter against the decadent forces of capitalism and fascism. Postwar, Tito proved equally adept at keeping the country "united" for the sake of maintaining Yugoslavian independence from Stalin (the only east bloc nation to do this). In the end it may all have been for naught because ancient rivalries reared their ugly heads once Tito died, and the long anticipated civil wars erupted again, resulting in the nation-states of Croatia, Slovenia, Serbia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Bosnia-Herzegovina, and Kosovo (sort of). Forged on the anvil of post-WWI politics, the nation of Yugoslavia is no more. Does anyone really morn the passing of the country that gave us the Yugo? I think not.
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@mathewkelly9968 That's a popular explanation, but saying it is an admission that competition helped kill Avro. Competition is a major part of economics, so you are making my point. As for the Swedish aerospace industry, it exists only because the Swedish government was willing to fund it. The Swedish government was willing to make this massive commitment because of its neutrality and its location (sandwiched between NATO Europe and the USSR). Canada had the advantage of being both a NATO ally and a neighbor of the USA, so politically it saw no advantage, and several disadvantages to continuing the Avro program. The Avro Arrow was a massively large interceptor, more on the scale of a medium bomber. The Lockheed F-104 was a tiny interceptor, and more cost effective, but neither plane represented the future of fighter development, which was to be multi-role fighter-attack aircraft such as the F4 Phantom (which also started life as an interceptor). Lockheed was able to turn the F-104 into a passable multi-role aircraft for its foreign customers, but I'm not sure the Arrow would have proven equally adaptable. For the interceptor role, the Canadian government opted for an even cheaper alternative, and bought the F-101 Voodoo, a mediocre aircraft at best. The RCAF also operated the F-104 in Europe in a nuclear strike role. Blaming Lockheed for Avro's demise may make some people feel better, but it's only one part of the story and should not be taken out of context.
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@patrickscalia5088 Since you specifically asked, I'm going to provide a tediously detailed answer. You have been warned!
Yes, the 38 S&W (aka 38-200, 38 Colt New Police) cartridge uses a .361" diameter projectile, while the 38 Special uses a .357" diameter projectile. The 38 S&W projectile is seated in a brass case that is much shorter (.775") than the 38 Special cartridge case (1.155"). The 38 S&W case is larger in diameter and slightly tapers down from .3865" at the base to .3855" at the mouth. The 38 Special case is straight-walled and only .379" in diameter.
In 38 S&W revolvers with short cylinders it may be possible to insert the smaller diameter 38 Special cartridge, but it would stick out the front of the cylinder and prevent it from closing. The 38-200 caliber Colt and S&W revolvers the British purchased during WWII were full-sized pistols originally intended for the 38 Special cartridge, thus they had to be built/rebuilt to only allow them to chamber the 38-200 cartridge. This was done by boring the rear of the cylinder to chamber the 38-200 case. The remainder of the cylinder was bored smaller to only allow the passage of .361" projectile. The result was stepped chambers inside each cylinder that prevented the longer 38 Special case from seating flush. This prevented the cylinder from closing. Postwar, may 38-200 revolvers were returned to the USA as surplus and dumped on the public market. Enterprising gunsmiths realized they could bore out the step in the cylinders so the revolvers would chamber and fire 38 Special cartridges, albeit rather sloppily. These converted pistols are easy to spot by their markings and by measuring their bores and chambers. Even if you lack the means to gauge the chambers, you'll find out soon enough when you shoot 38 Specials through them. The empty casings will bulge and/or split inside the oversized chambers. For the occasional shooter this may not be a problem, but for those who like to reload their empty brass, it is a nonstarter.
In theory the barrels of these wartime guns should have been bored and rifled for the larger 38-200 projectile, but it is possible to fire the larger diameter projectile through the smaller 38 Special bore. However, accuracy will suffer because the projectile will deform as it squeezes down to fit the tighter bore. This raises several questions. In their early rush to acquire firearms did the British Purchasing Commission allow under-bored barrels? Did Colt goof by putting the wrong cylinder in this gun? Did Colt accidentally mismark the barrel caliber? How many such guns exist?
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The image of those two planes at time mark 1:50 brought back some powerful memories. My Dad learned to fly in a Taylorcraft and a Cub, then later purchased his first plane, a Luscombe (the plane in the foreground). When I was a teenager his second Luscombe was the first "tail dragger" learned to fly. One of my brothers and a sister also learned to fly it. I spent many hours in it buzzing around north and central Florida and much of Georgia.
By the way, the first combat use of Cubs by launching them from ships during Operation Torch in North Africa proved to be something of a disaster. Navy gunners on other ships were unfamiliar with the aircraft and opened fire. After evading naval gunfire the three little planes continued to the beach where one was forced down by friendly Army antiaircraft fire. French gunfire brought down the second plane, flown by the unit leader, Capt Ford E. Allcorn. He managed to drag himself from the wreckage before it exploded and was promptly captured by the French, thus earning him three dubious distinctions. He was the first pilot to fly a Cub from the deck of a carrier into combat, the first Army aviator to be wounded in the campaign, and the first one to be captured. The third plane made it to the improved landing strip, but when the pilot attempted to fly his first artillery spotting mission he was again shot at by US Army units unfamiliar with the aircraft, and was forced to return to the strip. Matters only got worse after this, and the entire program was in jeopardy of cancellation. The situation was eventually rectified as new tactics and leadership evolved, but like the Army itself, much was being learned on the job under combat, a less than desirable state.
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Regarding the USS Roper's rescue of survivors of the torpedoed steamer, the ship was actually the SS City of New York. According to uboat.net, "One of the passengers was Desanka Mohorovicic, the pregnant wife of an attaché to the Yugoslav consulate in New York, who travelled [sic] with her daughter Vesna. Luckily the ship’s surgeon, Leonard Hudson Conly, had followed her into the same boat and delivered the baby in the bottom of the lifeboat that was tossed about in 15 foot waves, even though he himself had two broken ribs." The name New York must have an ominous one, for a different ship, the British registered coastal steamer New York, was torpedoed and sunk in October of 1942. Tragically, many of her survivors were lost the next day when one of the rescue ships, HMS Veteran, was sunk with the loss of all hands while attempting to rescue some of the New York's survivors.
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@julianneale6128 I never said the Allison did not seize up, nor did I say it was more reliable than the Merlin. I said my late friend preferred the P-38 because losing one engine wasn't a big problem. For a Mustang or any other single engine aircraft, it was a very big problem indeed. This is an example of the law of probability at work and has nothing to do with engine reliability unless you have truly terrible engines. I do not consider our main combat aircraft engines of WWII, the Allison, Packard/RR Merlin, Pratt & Whitney R-2800, and Wright Cyclone, to be unreliable engines for their time, if properly maintained. I don't know which one was the most reliable, but I suspect it would be the P&W, due to its simplicity and ruggedness. Of course there are many other factors that go into this equation, and it would make an interesting topic for discussion.
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At 5:30 you state their actions did not change the war or the battle. I must strongly disagree. Taylor and Welch not only downed at least a half dozen Japanese planes, they damaged many more. Combined with losses inflicted by Army and Navy ground fire during the second attack wave, Admiral Nagumo called off the third attack. Fully 15% of his attack force had been destroyed or seriously damaged. Oil storage tanks, repair bays, armaments, and dry dock facilities had been left intact. Had he authorized a third wave attack, Nagumo would have left Hawaii completely defenseless and useless to the Navy and Army for months to come, meaning our aircraft carriers would have been without a safe harbor from which to arm, fuel, and repair. It might even have precipitated a disastrously premature engagement between our carrier forces and theirs. But Nagumo was a cautious man who essentially snatched defeat from the jaws of Japanese victory. If Taylor and Welch not been so aggressive, history might well have turned out quite differently and not been worth remembering.
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Ralf, I'm not talking about the actions of the skipper of the Indianapolis. I'm talking about the protocols the US Navy had in place at the time, which would not have prevented the sinking, but did contribute to the magnitude of the disaster. I spent years working command and control. Keeping track of personnel and resources is critical when failure to do so can result in loss of life and property. That was the fatal flaw in Navy operations during this period. As with most airplane accidents, there is usually a chain of events that leads to downfall. In this case the critical issues included failure to notify Captain McVay that a Japanese submarine was operating in his area of transit, using assumptions rather than actual reports to plot a ships position, failure by the losing command (Marianas) to confirm the ship had arrived in port, false reporting of her arrival by the gaining command (Leyte), failure of the gaining Port Director to report and investigate the ship being overdue, and failure of three independent radio monitoring stations to report the ship's distress signal (one station commander was drunk, another did not wish to be disturbed, and the third thought it was a Japanese trick). These are command and control shortcomings which should not have existed this late in the war. The Sultana overcrowding may have been motivated by greed, but it was a general failure of command and control that allowed the disaster to happen.
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Regarding the USS Roper's rescue of survivors of the torpedoed steamer, the ship was actually the SS City of New York. According to uboat.net, "One of the passengers was Desanka Mohorovicic, the pregnant wife of an attaché to the Yugoslav consulate in New York, who travelled [sic] with her daughter Vesna. Luckily the ship’s surgeon, Leonard Hudson Conly, had followed her into the same boat and delivered the baby in the bottom of the lifeboat that was tossed about in 15 foot waves, even though he himself had two broken ribs." The name New York must have an ominous one, for a different ship, the British registered coastal steamer New York, was torpedoed and sunk in October of 1942. Tragically, many of her survivors were lost the next day when one of the rescue ships, HMS Veteran, was sunk with the loss of all hands while attempting to rescue some of the New York's survivors.
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