(By The Tactical Hermit)
A Great read both from a historical point of view and practical, Civilian Operator POV on the RELEVANCE of Guerilla Warfare in the 21st Century.
You have to Understand the Lessons of History in order not to repeat the mistakes of the past….this is why every Warrior needs to be a Scholar and Historian FIRST!
Read this article twice and look up the links and read about them…this is a study worthy of your time I promise you.
Stay Alert, Stay Armed and Stay Dangerous!
As part of Operation Tonga, the British airborne component of Operation Neptune (the official name of the D-Day), the 9th Parachute Battalion was tasked with capturing the Merville Gun Battery, whose guns were trained on Sword Beach and the British troops who would be assaulting it on the morning of the invasion.
The gun battery’s defenses were formidable. It had four reinforced concrete casemates housing four guns with a garrison of over 150 men and numerous machine gun emplacements. The battery also had an anti-tank ditch on two sides and two sets of barbed wire fences, with a minefield in between, surrounding the perimeter.
The paratroopers drilled relentlessly for their mission over the preceding months. The plan called for the 9th to land on drop zone ‘V’ along with gliders bringing in heavier equipment for the mission. Once the battalion was formed, they would assault the battery from the rear while three Horsa gliders would land directly on top of the battery bringing in paras and sappers armed with flamethrowers and explosives to clear the casemates and destroy the guns. Should the assault fail, the Royal Navy cruiser HMS Arethusa was scheduled to fire on the battery in hopes of destroying it at 5:50 am, ten minutes before the start of the landings.
Unfortunately, as was the case with most airborne units on D-Day, nearly nothing went as planned. Intense anti-aircraft fire, broken Eureka beacons, dust, darkness, and confusion all consorted to scatter the drop of the 9th Parachute Battalion across the French countryside. The Battalion Commander, Lt. Col. Terence Otway, landed nearly on top of a German headquarters. He was able to escape only when he threw a brick through the window and the confused Germans hit the ground thinking it was a grenade.
Lt. Col. Otway made his way to the assembly point to find he was nearly alone. The news only got worse from there. The five gliders carrying jeeps, anti-tank guns, and other heavy equipment never arrived. Of the men who did arrive, the heaviest weapon they had was a single Vickers machine gun. Explosives consisted of twenty Bangalore torpedoes and some Gammon bombs. There were no mortars, no anti-tank guns, no sappers, and only the orderlies from the medical team. By this time, the battalion assembled about 150 men. As one para would later put it: “Company C was about three men, which struck me as a rather limited force.” As the time to launch the attack approached, Otway decided he would have to proceed anyway, the men hitting the beach were counting on them.
Read the Remainder at Business Insider
As construction of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture progresses toward its September opening, Museum Director Lonnie Bunch joined CBS “60 Minutes”’ Scott Pelley on a visit to Mozambique in search of a ship that carried hundreds of African slaves to the bottom of the Indian Ocean when it foundered 220 years ago.
“The story of slavery is everybody’s story,” Bunch explained to Pelley. “It is the story about how we’re all shaped by, regardless of race, regardless of how long we’ve been in this country. We hope that we can be a factor to both educate America around this subject but maybe more importantly help Americans finally wrestle with this, talk about it, debate it…”
So how are 21st Century citizens of the United States obliged to “finally wrestle” with, in this case, the long-ago deaths of Africans who were enslaved by other Africans, forcefully driven for many miles through a Mozambique port and on to a Portuguese slave ship bound for Brazil, while the descendants of all those who actually participated in this event are allowed to be wistfully unconcerned and guilt-free?
You see, Mr. Bunch is wrong on one key point. Slavery is not everybody’s story — it must remain exclusively a story for the United States and its people. Only we are required to bear the indelible stain of this country’s original sin — and it appears those who entered or will enter here assume this mantle of guilt themselves a century-and-a-half after the institution of slavery was ended.
It is a scab that must be picked at incessantly — not out of any real concern for those who suffered centuries ago, but to gain political advantage today. Our nation can nominally assuage its relentless shame with assorted forms of reparations from those who never were masters to those who never were slaves.
Hollywood again obliges this week with an eight-hour retelling of Alex Haley’s “Roots”, a venture apparently so vital it requires an unprecedented simultaneous airing on three television networks over four consecutive nights. Varietymagazine suggested the new miniseries finally will provide the truth about the “cruel persistence” of this peculiar institution in our country to “generations of Americans who are uninformed about the true dimensions of slavery, or who prefer to remain willfully ignorant of its scope and lingering effects.”
However, those generations of American schoolchildren have been marinated in the notion that the institution of slavery sprang fully formed in 1619 when 20 Africans slaves landed in Jamestown, Virginia. (Actually, they originally were destined for Vera Cruz, Mexico aboard a Portuguese slave ship before being intercepted by a British privateer. It is believed the 20 were accepted as indentured servants and eventually were freed.)
Any discussion of slavery in this country should start with the recognition that the North American British colonies were remarkably small players in the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Of the approximate 12.5 million Africans taken in bondage to the New World, the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Databases estimates only about 388,000 came to what is now the United States — and virtually all aboard European-flagged slave ships. That represents a little more than 3% of the Africans brought to the Western Hemisphere.
So is Washington D.C. really the most appropriate place for a museum that focuses so heavily on the desperate institution, or should other candidates be considered? Here are some possible alternatives:
Read the Remainder at American Thinker
If some bizarre criminal held you at gunpoint and asked you to name six gravel-shitting badasses from the Old West, you’d probably get as far as Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday before you started wondering whether the Lone Ranger was based on a real person. But a closer look at Old West history reveals a solid collection of mighty gunmen who didn’t get their own movies, possibly because they were too busy kicking ass to waste time telling everyone how awesome they were.
Andrew “Buckshot” Roberts is probably best known for killing Charlie Sheen while taking a dump inYoung Guns. The actual story of that day is no less amazing.
You see, Billy the Kid (the famous gunfighter and co-author of Bill and Ted’s history report) and his gang the Regulators had a warrant for Roberts’ arrest, implicating him in the murder of a rancher named John Tunstall, whom Billy used to work for. Roberts didn’t actually have anything to do with Tunstall’s death, but he was a shit-kicking Texas outlaw who didn’t shy away from gunfights, so when Billy and his gang staged an ambush, Roberts was more than happy to engage in a free exchange of bullets.
That’s right — rather than surrender when he realized he was surrounded by 14 Regulators (that’s enough guys to field one and a half heavily armed baseball teams), Roberts instead told them all to go straight to hell.
As the battle commenced, Roberts was hit in the groin almost immediately, which would’ve taken the fight out of Quick Draw McGraw himself. But Roberts continued firing until his rifle was empty, wounding three Regulators and taking them out of the fight. Billy the Kid tried to take advantage of Roberts’ dick wound by rushing him, but Roberts took his empty rifle and clubbed the blazing pigshit out of him.
Roberts retreated into a house to reload, where Regulator Dick Brewer (Charlie Sheen’s character in the movie) tried to sneak up on him. Roberts spotted Brewer and blasted his head into skull-and-brains confetti. At that point, Billy the Kid decided it was way too early in the day for any more of this bullshit and ordered his gang to beat feet, leaving Buckshot Roberts alone to bleed to death a day later. Go back and read that sentence again — one of the most famous gunfighters in history, backed up by his entire gang, wasn’t enough to bring the mortally wounded Buckshot Roberts down.
James Riley was an 18-year-old kid stricken with tuberculosis, meaning the guy could barely get out of bed without vomiting up a gallon of lung tissue like Val Kilmer in Tombstone. But when his mentor was gunned down in front of him, the sickly young Riley managed to perforate the four ruthless bastards responsible in a matter of seconds, all for the sake of righteous revenge.
You see, Riley had been taken under the wing of a policeman named Mike McCluskie, who taught him how to shoot and, presumably, how to chew tobacco and whistle at busty corseted women. In 1871, McCluskie was cornered in a saloon by four gruff Texans looking to settle a score, since McCluskie had killed a friend of theirs (probably while fulfilling his duties as a police officer, but this was the Old West, so it’s really anyone’s guess). The four cowboys unloaded on McCluskie, chewing him up into a pile of pulpy red mist as Riley looked on in horror.
However, instead of hacking up the rest of his lungs in terrified spasms like some knee-knocking wiener, Riley stood up to face the four armed men who had just killed his only friend and proceeded to unleash a storm of Pacino-esque fury on McCluskie’s killers, eliminating two of the men and severely wounding the other two (and killing two bystanders in the process). When the smoke in the saloon finally cleared, Riley was gone, never to be seen or heard from again
That part isn’t legend, by the way — immediately after avenging his friend’s death, James Riley walked out of the saloon, into the desert, and freaking disappeared. Nobody knows where he went or where and when he died. He’s like a gun-slinging phantom.
Read the Remainder at Cracked
IT WAS 100 years ago this week that a coalition of armed republican factions seized the city of Dublin and proclaimed Ireland’s independence from Great Britain.
The disturbance, which began on April 24, 1916, would go down in history as the Easter Rising.
Four four days, 12,000 insurgents from the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Citizen Armyoccupied the capital as soldiers and local police battled to regain control. The two rebel armies were joined by a third outfit — an all-female paramilitary unit known as theCumann na mBan or the “Irish Woman’s Council”.
Formed in 1914 to “advance the cause of Irish liberty,” the 10,000-strong resistance movement trained young women volunteers with pistols and rifles in preparation for an armed confrontation with the British Empire.
Sixty of its members served as nurses, messengers and even snipers during the 100-hour rebellion. One of the group’s leaders, a 47-year-old Anglo-Irish aristocrat namedConstance Georgine Markievicz, famoulsy gunned down an unarmed city constable as fighting raged throughout the city. Dozens of Cumann na mBan soldiers were captured in the final hours of the disturbance, which was brutally crushed by British soldiers on April 28; all but 12 were released before the end of May.
Read the Remainder at Military History Now