The time has come for The Snipe to speak out again. I have been quiet long enough. There is a season for everything. Kudos to the Navy SEALs for bringing Peace Through Superior Firepower to the pirates. A hearty F off to DHS for saying I am a right wing “extremist”. The Don’t Tread On Me flag has flown from many a US Navy warship defending the Constitution that many now wish to trample on. I think the Oath Keepers are on to something. They are fixin’ to be added to my blogroll. As a matter of record, I refuse to fire on US citizens other than in defense of self and others, as *I* see it.
A Time for Everything
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace
We beat the pirates. That is one of the Navy’s oldest skill set, and along with the Marines from time to time(to the shores of Tripoli and all that) our raison de’etre. Roommate, Mrs. Roommate and I were discussing this today. Three shots three kills. HOO-YAH! As for their violence and retaliation, phthhh!(or however you spell it). We were trying to figure out who gave weapons release. It made for an intellectual discussion.
Stand Navy out to sea
Fight our battle cry:
We’ll never change our course
So vicious foes steer shy-y-y-y
Roll out the T. N. T.
Sail on to victory
And sink their bones to Davy Jones, hooray!
Inspired by item one from the previous past. I had just moved from one apartment in a bad neighborhood to an apartment in a better suburb of San Diego. I had talked to my buddy the Sheriff’s Deputy about how to legally move my edged weapons in my vehicle.
“Put ’em in a toolbox in the backseat of your truck.”
Easy enough. On the following Monday I reported for duty at NAVSTA San Diego. I forgot to remove one toolbox from my truck that happened to have a doubled bladed diver’s knife. I had met my new Chief and was on my way to personnel to square away my BAH.
On the way from BFE Parking Lot, I was flagged down by some Masters-at-Arms doing random vehicle contraband checks. I declared the Leatherman in my console but forgot about the toolbox with the diver’s knife. They found it.
I found myself being frisked by the MAs and being told, “Place your hands behind your head and face away from the sound of my voice. You are suspected of violating instruction umptysquat.”
I apparently was let off because hey forgot to tell me about Article 31 of the UCMJ, the military version of the Miranda Rights before asking questions.