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July 29, 2005
Happy Birthday, Armorer!
Because today is a very special day, I would like to take the opportunity to pay tribute to that Man Among Men (and he ain't no metrosexual neither), a true occifer and gennilmun, The Donovan. If you don't know John, you should make the effort. He and I go back to when I was just a brand new blogger, still occasionally flogging my posts to other bloggers because I'd read somewhere that you were supposed to do this if you ever wanted to amount to anything. Well, I still have not amounted to anything, but that's not for lack of trying on John's part.
Although he long since ascended to Mortal Human status, John has a heart bigger than the state of Kansas. He remains unstintingly generous to tiny blogs like VC, linking to them daily. Like VC, Castle Argghhh!!! is a family of sorts: the Castle Denizens scamper about its dusty hallways, pursued by (and pursuing) scruples, playing pranks on one another, and generally getting into all sorts of mischief.
Since the Armorer is (like the Unit) a Redleg, there could be no finer way to celebrate his natal day than to mock him mercilessly wallow in gun porn, but also while we're at it to learn a bit of artillery lore as well. So with no further ado, let the festivities commence.
I'll wager you didn't know that the artillery community has its own patron saint. The field artillery are steeped in tradition and history: their proud legacy stretches back through time. Some have said the artillery is outmoded - that planes can take their place.
As John would say, "Feh". And "Double feh...". Try sending up jets when sand fills the air during a desert windstorm. Only the artillery can put steel on target, 24/7 in all kinds of weather with deadly accuracy. When it absolutely, positively must be destroyed overnight, there is nothing like the big guns of the cannon cocker. Just ask him...
For some bizarre reason, the number 82 seems to be hovering at the back end of my mind.
[shaking her head and trying to regain her concentration]
I am the United States Field Artillery. I fly the skies with my light forces, sail the sea with my Marines and pound the ground with my heavy forces. I see with satellites, touch with my terrible thunder and taste the sweet glory of victory. I am everywhere-mobile, agile and lethal. I Deal in Steel.I was born of necessity in 1775 when the British fired upon our militia at Lexington and Concord. My six-pounder cannons were captured field pieces, drawn by oxen from battlefield to battlefield. I crossed the Delaware River with Washington on Durham boats and wintered at Valley Forge. At the moment of victory at Yorktown, it was I who fired the decisive rounds. I am Firepower for Freedom.
I was called to defeat the British again in 1812. I fired for the charge at Chippewa, out-dueling the Royal Artillery and carrying the day. I was there at the Battle of New Orleans with my lethal lanyards pulling devastation down on our enemy. Then in 1846, I stood fast against the superior forces of Santa Anna. The Mexicans came close enough to smell the smoke of my cannons and feel the deadly sting of my "grape" as my Flying Artillery bombarded the battlefield. I Rule with Thundering Steel.
And then in 1861, with my muzzle-loaded guns and my observers positioned by my side, I saw us torn apart by the War Between the States. I was there on both sides with the Blue and the Gray. My fires decided victory at Malvern Hill, Antietam, Shiloh, Chancellorsville and Gettysburg. I am Mind-Numbing, Bone-Shattering Savagery.
I was part of the American Expeditionary Force that, under General Black Jack Pershing, helped defeat the Kaiser and the German Army in 1918. I had larger cannons, but my main arm was the French 75-mm gun drawn into battle position by horses. As World War II approached and the forces I fired for became more mobile, I moved by trucks and became armored Field Artillery. With my Priest 105-mm self-propelled howitzer and my observers forward with the tankers and infantrymen, I adjusted my ferocious fires for our forces. I massed fires by battery, battalion, Div Arty and even dealt my death by corps artillery. I am the Greatest Killer on the Battlefield.
I was there in the mountains of Korea and jungles of Vietnam. From Pusan and Inchon north to the Yalu, the pounding of my 155-mm towed guns helped bring about the Peace Accord at Panmunjom in 1953. In fire bases in Vietnam and with my airmobile firepower, it was I who brought howitzer hell to the enemy for our maneuver forces, using my multiple field pieces-105, 155, 175 and 203. I am Death on Call.
I was there for the Cold War as America stood her ground for international democracy. I gave her my Lance and then the mighty Pershing missile, which forced our opponents to the negotiating table. Though I never fired a missile in anger, my Pershing Peacemaker was strategic. I am Persuasive Power for Peace.
And I'll be there when you need me. I am ubiquitous on the battlefield. I can focus my firepower like a flashlight beam, raining death and destruction down upon our foe. My "rockets red glare" is now white-hot from six-packs of steel-rapid, far-reaching and awesome. The autonomous actions of my howitzers can shell out hell to bring our enemy to his knees. And when I'm done, he'll bow before me because -- I am and always will be The King of Battle.
Indeed, the other MOS's would be sorely lost and bewildered, were it not for the comforting presence of the King of Battle. Should you doubt this, just ask an Artilleryman - he will quote you chapter and verse:
1. In the beginning there was chaos and the chaos was the Infantry, for the Infantry was alone.2. And fear was with the Infantry and they cried unto the Lord saying, "Lord, save us for we are afraid."
3. And the Lord heard their grunts and set some of the Infantry on beasts of burden and these he called Cavalry, and the Cavalry became Armour.
4. And when the Lord had seen what he had done he laughed saying, "Well, you can't win them all."
5. The Infantry and the Armour again cried out to the Lord saying, "Lord, save us for we are afraid." And the Lord heard their pitiful cries and decided to end their sniveling.
6. And the Lord said unto them, "Lo and behold, I send you a race of men noble in heart and spirit." And the Lord created the Gunners.
7. And the Lord said unto the Infantry and Armour, "When it is dark, the Gunners shall light your way."
8. And when you need smoke, there shall be smoke, and when you need HE, WP, H & I and counter-battery fire, all this ye shall have."
9. And the Lord gave the Gunners big guns and field guns, and the Infantry and Armour were jealous for they had naught.
10. And the Infantry cried out saying, "Lord, thou hast created the Infantry as Queen of Battles, but now thou hast made the Gunners King of Battles and well knowest thou what the King does to the Queen."
11. And the Lord replied, "Right on!"
12. And the Lord gave unto the Artillery rockets and missiles and, best of all, nukes. And when the Infantry and Armour saw this they fell to their knees in wonder saying, "Surely God is on the side of the greatest - THE GUNNERS."
13. And the Lord sayeth, "You got that right."
Now abideth Infantry, Armour, and Artillery; but the greatest of these is..."Artillery".
There is no way conclude this artillery odessey, but at the ending. For when the life of an artilleryman comes to a close, there is a special place reserved for him where he can stretch his crimson legs, knock back a cold one with comrades long since departed, and rest at long, last knowing his nation is secure:
THE LEGEND OF FIDDLER'S GREENImagine, if you will, a starry night in southwestern Oklahoma just after the Civil War. Nestled in the shadows of the Wichita Mountains is a battery of smoothbore cannon camped for the night. As the campfires dim and the flasks of rum and lemon empty, the conversation turns to life in the hereafter. A rugged, old chief of section is surprised to learn that all present have not heard of the special destiny of Redlegs. As the young cannoneers listen intently, he shares with them the legend of Fiddler's Green.
The chief of section explains that the souls of the departed eventually end up in heaven or hell. Heaven lies about six miles down the dusty road to eternity, and Redlegs get there by turning left at the first crossroad. From this same junction, hell is about eight or nine miles straight ahead. The road's easy to identify: it's the one paved with good intentions. A little way down the road to hell, there is a sign pointing to a trail that runs off to the right of the main road. It reads "Fiddler's Green--Artillerymen Only."
He then teaches them the following poem:
Half way down the trail to hell,
In a shady meadow green,
Are the souls of many departed Redlegs
Camped near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddler's Green
Though other must go down the trail
To seek a warmer scene,
No Redleg ever goes to hell,
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so returns to drink again,
With friends at Fiddler's Green.The campfires die out, and the Redlegs doze off to sleep, knowing Fiddler's Green awaits them and all their cannoncocking brethren in the life hereafter.
No doubt as he closes his eyes and drifts off in peaceful slumber, the last thing he will hear is the voice of his heavenly Father whispering:
"Job well done. Rest now, my good and faithful son."
And so may it ever be.
Happy Birthday.
Posted by Cassandra at July 29, 2005 06:52 AM
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Comments
Snerk! Oh, my, a paean! I *am* humbled....
Oh, bovineshite, I'm a Redleg!
Thanks, Cassie!
Posted by: John of Argghhh! at July 29, 2005 09:00 AM
Ohhhh Cassandra, you made my day!!! I am one of thousands of Redlegs over here in Mordor performing 'other duties'; the closest I've been to an artillery piece is a couple beat up Iraqi pieces at Ali AFB at Tallil. It's been a bitter separation!!
'Only the artillery can put steel on target, 24/7 in all kinds of weather with deadly accuracy. When it absolutely, positively must be destroyed overnight, there is nothing like the big guns of cannon cocker.'
Well, you know that and I know that ... especially since I've been here and seen one flight after another cancelled because of sand storm, sadly I don't think our SECDEF sees it that way ... he seems to think we've gone the way of horse cavalry. It will be a sad day indeed when the boys are in a fight and can't get support because the air boys can't fly and there's no artillery to be had.
Posted by: Frodo at July 29, 2005 09:03 AM
Frodo, I made sure I got that in.
If I had a dollar for every time some asshat has said to me..."Hmmm... artillery... aren't they outmoded nowadays???"
I could just scream. They have no (**&^^%%$%YUJKG idea what they're talking about.
Mortars aren't big enough and don't have the range, planes can't fly in all SORTS of weather, and I'm not taking anything away from them either. And you don't have to risk a human lfie to put a barrage of rounds on target the way you sometimes do with a jet.
The King of Battle is still just that.
Unique. Commanding. Irreplaceable.
Posted by: Cass at July 29, 2005 09:07 AM
And I agree about SECDEF and it's not just him. It's one of my sore spots, Frodo.
I watched a good man sit on his hands and almost scream in frustration for almost two years when he could have been in the fight. They were ready. Don't even get me started.
/rant
*opinions are solely those of a loving wife and do not reflect those of Higher Management, who would turn her over his knee in a heartbeat
Posted by: Cass at July 29, 2005 09:12 AM
This is a celebratory thread and all, but I think I'll leave that last comment alone...
Posted by: Masked Menace© at July 29, 2005 09:25 AM
Except for MOS 111B's I would agree with the below statement. Other than this slight correction, Happy Birthday to The Big Guns.
"Indeed, the other MOS's would be sorely lost and bewildered, were it not for the comforting presence of the King of Battle."
Posted by: Paul of York at July 29, 2005 09:40 AM
I was a mere 67N...but Happy Birthday anyway, wherever you are, Armorer.
FWIW, there used to be a tavern here in town called "Fiddler's Green"...
Posted by: camojack at July 29, 2005 09:44 AM
Smart move MM, and I wil follow your lead!! ;-)
Posted by: Frodo at July 29, 2005 10:19 AM
What a great post - You've done yourself proud, Lass! I always learn sumfin when I visit here :-)
Posted by: Barb at July 29, 2005 10:24 AM
Frodo - while I *don't* surrender my objectivity... you'll be happy to hear that every study and analysis I've conducted in the last 5 years only argues about the amount of cannon and the mix of ammo for them...
There isn't a study yet (that stands up to rigorous analysis) that retires the Guns.
Thanks, everybody... and Cassie - I link for the quality, not because I'm some big-hearted sap!
8^)
Posted by: John of Argghhh! at July 29, 2005 11:16 AM
John darlin', one accuses the Armorer of being a sap at her peril.
But I still accuse you of having a big heart. There are a lot of big bloggers who don't notice anyone who can't send a lot of traffic *their* way, quality or no quality. It takes heart to look beyond your own self-interest.
I am not on the blogrolls of very many major blogs - only 2 or 3 after all this time. I write more in one day than some bloggers do in a week. And I will never forget that you were one of the first people who gave me a chance. Your lady is a very, very lucky woman (not that Beth doesn't deserve you - I know she does :)
Posted by: Cass at July 29, 2005 11:26 AM
Frodo - contact me at my email via your .mil address, and I will send you, via my .mil address a copy of the current Fires Brigade O&O.
Cheers,
John "Still Serving the Guns" of Argghhh!
Posted by: John of Argghhh! at July 29, 2005 11:46 AM
Oooh. A cavalcade of gun porn! Naval gun porn, and yet more naval gun porn!
Congrats Armorer!
Posted by: lawhawk at July 29, 2005 03:08 PM
I'm 0331/2...
Lighter artillery for the in close fighting...
Yes, Mother Deauce can be used as an indirect fire weapon (with a Forward Observer)... Does that count?
My tribute to John is on The Gun Line...
Posted by: Sgt. B. at July 29, 2005 04:00 PM
Hey - you're the expert! The Unit actually thinks a lot of that stuff is cool - the big guns can't do everything. I just get aggravated when people say there is no need for artillery - it's an ignorant opinion.
We used it a lot in the war and we're STILL using it. People don't know that, but it's true.
Posted by: Cass at July 29, 2005 04:52 PM
Cassie - that Fires BDE O&O (26 July 05) is on offer for the Big Unit, too.
Posted by: John of Argghhh! at July 29, 2005 05:20 PM
"I crossed the Delaware River with Washington on Durham boats and wintered at Valley Forge."
Actually, the artillery crossed in Garret Johnson's fore-and-aft ramped ferry boat. In order to get a field piece in and out of a Durham boat, you'd have to disassemble it--Durhams had steep sides and were tapered.
That said, "
Posted by: cw4billt at July 30, 2005 01:55 AM
*ahem* It's been a while...
(continued from above) That said, "I crossed the Delaware River with Washington on Garret Johnson's fore-and-aft ramped ferry boat..." kinda loses in poetry whatever it gains in accuracy.
Posted by: cw4billt at July 30, 2005 01:59 AM
"Wowee! Look at the big boom booms and see the flashing lights and smoke! Pretty!"
*claps hands wildly over the ability of the guys of guns to deliver*
Happy Birthday.
Posted by: Cricket at August 1, 2005 11:46 PM