Interesting Military Quotes - Courtesy Mike West (7th Mar '08)

'If the enemy is in range, so are you.'
- Infantry Journal
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'It is generally inadvisable to eject directly over the area you just bombed.'
-   U.S.  Air Force Manual
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'Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword obviously never encountered automatic weapons.'
- General MacArthur
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'You, you, and you ... Panic. The rest of you, come with me.'
- U.S. Marine Corp Gunnery Sgt.
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'Tracers work both ways.'
-   U.S .  Army Ordnance
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'Five second fuses only last three seconds.'
- Infantry Journal
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'Any ship can be a minesweeper. Once.'
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'Never tell the Platoon Sergeant you have nothing to do.'   - Unknown Marine Recruit
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'If you see a bomb technician running, follow him.'
-   USAF  Ammo Troop
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'Though I Fly Through the Valley of Death , I Shall Fear No Evil. For I am at 80,000 Feet and Climbing.'
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'You've never been lost until you've been lost at Mach 3.'
- Paul F. Crickmore (test pilot)
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'The only time you have too much fuel is when you're on fire.'
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'If the wings are traveling faster than the fuselage, it's probably a helicopter -- and therefore, unsafe.'
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'When one engine fails on a twin-engine airplane you always have enough power left to get you to the scene of the crash.'
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'Even with   ammunition, the  USAF  is just another expensive flying club.'
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'What is the similarity between air traffic controllers and pilots? If a pilot screws up, the pilot dies; If ATC screws up, .... The pilot dies.'
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'Never trade luck for skill.'
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The three most common expressions (or famous last words) in aviation are: 'Why is it doing that?', 'Where are we?' And 'Oh Shit!'
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'Airspeed, altitude and brains. Two are always needed to successfully complete the flight.'
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'Mankind has a perfect record in aviation; we never left one up there!'
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'Flying the airplane is more important than radioing your plight to a person on the ground incapable of understanding or doing anything about it.'
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'The Piper Cub is the safest airplane in the world; it can just barely kill you.'
- Attributed to Max Stanley (Northrop test pilot)
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'There is no reason to fly through a thunderstorm in peacetime.'
- Sign over squadron ops desk at Davis-Monthan AFB, AZ, 1970
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'If something hasn't broken on your helicopter, it's about to.'
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'You know that your landing gear is up and locked when it takes full power to taxi to the terminal.'
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As the test pilot climbs out of the experimental aircraft, having torn off the wings and tail in the crash landing, the crash truck arrives, the rescuer sees a bloodied pilot and asks 'What happened?'.   

 The pilot's reply: 'I don't know, I just got here myself!'
- Attributed to Ray Crandell (Lockheed test pilot)

New Equipment for the RAF - Courtesy Mike West (16th Jan '08)

Gordon Brown has announced a large order of these aircraft for the RAF.

But, don’t get too excited until you see all of the pictures and open them in order.

The four builders are shown in the image above. Colin Straus, the owner, is at the nose of the aircraft.

This 1/9th scale radio-controlled C-17 model was built in the United Kingdom. It was built as the centerpiece of a 15 program television series produced in the U.K. for the Home and Leisure satellite TV channel.

Built with the aid of three friends, it took one year to build and is powered with 4 Jetcat P-120 turbines with a total thrust of 108 lbs. The model weighs over 250 lbs fuelled, and carries 12.5 litres (3.3 US gallons) of 95% kerosene and 5% turbine oil fuel. Other details include 5 Futaba PCM receivers, 16 battery packs (93 cells), 20 Futaba servos, on board air compressor, electro/pneumatic retracts, etc. Wingspan is 20 feet 8 inches, and the top of the fin is 74 inches (6 feet 2 inches) above the ground. Takeoff weight is 264 lbs.

The rear cargo doors open and they drop an r/c jeep on a pallet, as well as 2 free-fall r/c parachutists.

The model also has smoke systems on both of the inboard turbines, and uses a 2.4 GHz dat a link to provide real-time data to a laptop computer on the ground while in flight. This data includes airspeed, turbine RPM, EGT, fuel consumption, etc. Built mainly from balsa and ply, with many glass and carbon fibre mouldings to reduce weight. It is covered in fibreglass and epoxy resin. Complete with retractable landing gear and pneumatically operated flaps.

This C-17 Globe Master III is one of the largest jet models in the world today!

Now this is what I call a real Bitch (11th Jan '08)

Just received this from from a "friend" who will remain anonymous to protect his good name. But he lives in Mandurah and is married to my fourth daughter, Anne. Thought you mike like it and might be able to learn from it if you really have to send a "bitchy" reply.

Dear Mr. Barlow,

It has come to my attention that you are not answering my e-mails!   Now I fully appreciate this could be caused by various situations, some of which may well be beyond your control, such as the failure of the electrical grid or the takeover of the northern extremities of the UK by terrorist insurgents.  Alas, I feel it’s more likely to be less serious.

You could for example, be hitting the bottle to such an extent that the computer screen has just become a blurred kaleidoscope of colour, or perhaps you’ve sat on your glasses and those hawk like eyes that used to watch so diligently over the shoulders of shuddering flight engineers are no longer able to focus on the letters of the key board.  On the other hand, living in that frigid climate, on the outer limits of civilisation as it’s known to man,  those poor, fragile hands wrapped in strips of cloth to protect them from the winter’s chill, are at last incapable of operating the key board.    Just to think, in the years gone by when you played the 747 Engineers panel like a concert piano and were known as ‘Magic Fingers’.     Indeed, a very tragic picture!

Mind you, I may have this totally wrong and you could be seriously ill, God forbid!  You could even be suffering from a runny nose, or runny bowels, or perhaps even a combination of both with a constant demand for tissues both in the northern and southern hemispheres, so to speak!   I trust this is not the case.

My most serious concerns centre around that distasteful term ‘racialism’.   Whilst it’s unthinkable from my perspective, I have to face the fact that people unfortunate enough not to live in God’s Country may just consider themselves to be racially inferior and hesitant to make contact with those muscle toned, bronzed beasts of manhood, strutting around in the midday sun wearing nothing but a Colgate smile and Budgie Smugglers !  

As the Queen once said, “it’s sad, but we can’t all be queens, we have to have someone to form the kingdom”.   But then again, with the current change in the world’s sexual preferences, perhaps she’ll be proved wrong.  However I’m getting off the track here.

Seriously, and this is most difficult for me as a grown man, but I sincerely hope this lack of two way communication is not simply another of your little temper tantrums!   As embarrassing as it is, I know you’ve been prey to these character destroying traits on the odd occasion, I trust this is not one of them.    For the life of me, I have no idea what would have triggered such an event, but Dr.Phill tells us the inner child works in mysterious ways which may not always be evident to the casual observer.  Yes I know, it’s scary but the truth often is!

Well, I’m afraid I’m at a complete loss for further words.  I live in eternal hope that whatever it is that ails you soon passes and that cheerful, bubbly, mischievous little Scotsman that we all liked, comes bouncing back real soon.

Best Regards,

Undisclosed Sender

P.S. In case it’s another nationalistic trait that has you concerned, perhaps I should point out that e-mails are free!

A Flight of Fantasy, by BJ. (5th Jan '08)

Departure is delayed an hour and we’re issued with meal vouchers. It’s not the best way to start our trip but as we all know, these things occasionally happen. Anne and I wander the huge terminal complex in KL Malaysia, looking for somewhere to have a snack. We don’t feel like eating much so Hungry Jacks fills the bill.

After a gate change and a replacement aircraft we board and settle in, staring at the bulkhead immediately in front of our row of seats. The two seats next to me are occupied by a woman with a young child and a baby in arms, the child apparently fixated on becoming Jack in The Box. Behind us a screaming young brat refuses to behave, kicking the back of my seat in a temper tantrum. This is going to be just great !

And then further delays, but this time we’re kept on board. After some time, the soothing tones of the Captain announces a 40 minute delay whilst maintenance workers attempt to fix the problem. Oh sure, I’ve been here before, but I mustn’t be cynical.

Time drags on and on. The kid keeps kicking, the baby will not settle and cries constantly whilst her brother thrashes about in the seat next to me.

Another announcement, this time proposing to swap aircraft yet again, but first we’re to be served dinner on board ! It’s absolute chaos as Cabin Crew try to maneuver food carts up the narrow aisles whilst passengers refuse to sit down, cueing at toilets, opening lockers and retrieving computers and other personal effects from their cabin baggage. It’s a circus, but there’s nothing funny about it.

Eventually, with meal trays cleared away, we’re herded off the crippled aircraft and onto our third for the night. Everything goes like clockwork and were soon charging down the runway and up into the night sky, some 6 hours late.

It’s midnight and I try to settle down for a sleep, but it wont be easy. A bassinette has been attached to the bulkhead in front, half of it protruding across in front of me, it’s young occupant still exercising her lungs, refusing to be quiet whilst Jack in The Box franticly competes for his mother’s attention. The monster behind appears to get some sadistic pleasure from using my seat back as a football every time I try to get comfortable, despite my irritated glares over the seat at him and his parents.

“You mustn’t do that Darling”, the mother bleats to him, pathetically.

Restrain him, get the handcuffs, leg rope him , do something I pray but it’s just not going to happen. He keeps kicking.

I try half a bottle of red and pop a valium. Eventually I drift off into a form of unconsciousness ……

“Seat 23B and enjoy your flight”, says the angel at the desk as she hands me a boarding card. I move through the long silver tube of the Air Bridge, arriving at the aircraft door to be greeted by another angel, tall, with long blond hair and steely grey eyes that seem to look right through me.

She glances down at my two children and immediately steps into the center of the doorway.

“I’m sorry Sir, but children aren’t allowed in the Cabin”, she says with a soft but firm voice, the tone of authority plainly evident and unquestionable, but I try.

“They’re with me”, I plead.

“It’s OK”, she says, “we’ll look after them”, reassuring me with a smile that would melt icebergs. A figure appears from the gloom, attaches tags to my kid’s arms displaying our destination and gently ushers them away.

As I pear through the aircraft window at the tarmac below, I can see lots of kids all wearing tags grouped together next to the baggage trolleys. One at a time the kids are placed onto a long , moving conveyer belt along with the baggage and delivered up into the cargo hold. The peace and tranquility of the aircraft cabin is overwhelming…..

In the Arrival Hall, the baggage carousel kicks into gear as the first of the luggage appears from underground and slides down the short ramp onto the moving belt. Children also appear from the underground void, interspersed with the bags, some silent, some squabbling, others playing with electronic games. Mothers reach out and pluck them from the moving carousel as they pass by, loading them on top of their luggage and hurrying off.

Outside, the Hotel Shuttle bus is parked at the kerb, a line of adults climbing on board. At the same time children are being loaded into the baggage trailer hooked on the back. It’s peaceful, there’s no noise, no argument, just adults going one way, children the other.

“Room 2801 Sir. I hope you enjoy your stay. We’ll have your bags sent up right away.

The Hotel Clerk catches my concerned glance at my children standing off to the side.

“Don’t worry about the children Sir, we’ll look after them” she says, knowingly.

A Bellhop appears, tags my bags with my Room Number and attaches labels to the kids. “Kids Floor” the labels announce in big red letters on stripped yellow and black tags, just like the old crew tags we used to display on our baggage.

“Excuse me Sir, Sir, excuse ….”. The hostess is gently shaking me as she struggles to wake me from my drug induced sleep. “We’ll be landing shortly, please put your seat upright ……

I glance at my watch and realize I’ve managed a good 4 hours of sleep. The tiny, sleeping bundle in front of me is being transferred to her mother’s arms whilst Jack in The Box appears to have broken his spring. The monster behind me has somehow been transformed into a picture of pure innocence.

I struggle upright in my seat trying to clear my befuddled brain, looking around the cabin, somehow hoping to catch a glimpse of the blond angel with the steely grey eyes. But reality crashes back into focus as we thump onto the runway.

It’s been a flight I’ll not soon forget, in more ways than one.

Miller's Musings - The 12 Days of Christmas (4th Dec '07)

One Kestrel eagle, five turtle doves, four crested mynahs, one monitor lizard, 185 land turtles, and . . .

Foreigners had reported the pet shops of Kartimar selling endangered species, so the National Bureau of Investigation (NBI) and the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) had set up a buy and bust operation. In charge was Alma Balasfin, chief of the Protected Areas and Wildlife Bureau (PAWB).

As you will see, the operation was part of the Complete Responsibility Action Program (CRAP).

"Get ready," Officer Balasfin whispered into her walkie-talkie. "Go!" Gerardo Cabreros, DENR Special Concerns Director, crossed Libertad Street in Pasay City, and went into one of the many pet shops of Kartimar. "I'd like to buy a crested mynah," he said. "What's that?" asked the shopkeeper. "You know, a mynah. I want a coloured one." "You mean a black one?" "No, a coloured one, a male ... a young one." "Lemme get this straight - you want a young black male minor, is that right?" Director Cabreros put a 500 peso note on the counter. "A coloured one," he said. "Are you some kind of child molester?" the shopkeeper shouted. "We don't keep minors here - get out before I call the cops." "You don't understand, I am a cop."

The raid on the pet shops netted only: one Kestrel eagle, five turtle doves, four crested mynahs, one monitor lizard, 185 land turtles, and . . .

"It's not what we expected," Alma Balasfin said. "Where are the rest?"

The rest had long gone. The Inquirer reported: "Pet shop owners ... knew there was going to be a raid because a radio reporter announced it on the air two hours before the DENR agents arrived."

Miller's Musings - A Jolly Good Jollibee (4th Dec '07)

     (Note: Jollibee is a Philippine fast food chain similar to KFC.)

Jamie put the plates on the table, and using tongs carefully lifted a sandal from the frying pan and placed it on a plate. He then placed a sandal on each of the other two plates.

"Come and get it kids, it's on the table," he called. "Coming Daddy," Little Billy answered from the next room. A few moments later Little Billy and Janet entered the room and sat at the table. Little Billy giggled and started poking the sandal on his plate with a fork.

Janet pointed at the sandal on her plate. "Daddy, is this some sort of sick joke?" she asked.

"No my dear," Jamie replied, "this is a new breakfast product from Jollibee. Look, there is the Jollibee trade mark." He pointed to the Jollibee mark on the sandal - a bee's head smiling and wearing a white chef's hat. "See, it's the real thing."

He ladled rice onto the sandal and topped it with a splash of tomato sauce. "Ok kids, dig in. Should be yummy."

                                                                                                               *****

November 28, 2007, the Philippine Inquirer reported:
MANILA, Philippines -- First to become a Pinoy (Filipino) favorite was Jollibee Yum Burger, followed by Jollibee Chicken Joy and then came -- Jollibee shoes? Not so fast.

A man who put a mark and logo similar to that of the popular fast-food chain on his footwear products is facing the maximum prison time of five years for violating the Intellectual Property Code.

In its Nov. 19 ruling, the appellate court said the "Jollibee" mark on the shoes and slippers sold by Chua was almost identical to the "Jollibee" of the popular fast-food chain. The logo of a bee's head found on Chua's footwear "practically duplicated" the one used by Jollibee.

The close similarities between the mark and the logo on Chua's footwear and the ones used by Jollibee might confuse the buying public, it added.

Miller's Musings - Hot Diggedy Dog (29th Oct '07)

The Philippines has once again failed to gain the recognition it seeks. It has had recognition of course, but of the wrong kind: volcanoes, earthquakes, typhoons, politicians pillaging, and mayors shooting dead bodies, but nothing very positive. But then someone got an idea - get the Philippines into the Guinness Book of Records. That's the way to fame, and perhaps fortune. And the Philippines needs some fortune. After all, the World Bank must surely read the Guinness Book of Records. What better way to get the economy moving?

Then the plan. Brilliant. And so simple. Just create a world record. A hot dog. A big one. How about a two and a half kilometre long hot dog? How? Easy - make heaps and heaps of hot dogs and tie them together. Arrange the fanfare - the world must know - photographers, journalists, TV reporters. Make it big.

It was big. Two and a half  kilometres of hot dog. A world record. Hot dog after hot dog tied to its fellow with bits of cotton, string, knitting wool, rubber bands, whatever . . . But two and a half kilometres . . . that's about one and a half miles. How to display it? Can't trail two and a half kilometres of hot dog in the dirt, especially Philippine dirt. Enlist the schools. After all, this is a national event. Having gone to all that trouble it would be imprudent not to protect it - call the police as guardians.

In February 1994 the great day arrived. History in the making. Fame and fortune. The national debt to be repaid. The economy saved. Kids lined the streets and with scrubbed hands held their part of the Philippine salvation waist high. Cameras clicked. TV cameras whirred. Politicians arranged teeth into smiles. Bands played. Parades paraded.

Success was almost there - but for one thing. Someone forgot to feed the kids. They got hungry. And what were they holding in their sterile little hands but lunch. And dinner. And perhaps even breakfast. It was too much to resist. The police moved in. But what the heck - policemen have to eat too, right? And they did.

Miller's Musings  The Pants Job (29th Oct '07)

The Pants Job

Hernandez and Moreno peered into the Senator's office from the ceiling trapdoor. "How we gonna get down there?" Hernandez asked. "Easy," Moreno said. "I'll just swing down and move the table. You wriggle your fat ass through the trapdoor and land on the table. Watch me." Moreno lowered himself through the trapdoor, swung by his arms for a few seconds, then dropped quietly to the floor where he hauled the Senator's desk over until it was directly under the trapdoor. "OK," he said. "Your turn." Hernandez sat with his legs through the trapdoor, then rolled over onto his stomach and slowly inched his way down. He was through to his waist when a ceiling beam broke. There was a crash of falling tiles, a cloud of dust, and he found himself swinging, holding on with only one hand. "S***, Moreno, I can't hold . . ." He fell heavily onto the desk, feet sliding on the slippery surface, his body crashing into the computer and knocking the monitor onto the floor. He lay across the computer gasping for breath, Moreno trying to lift him. "You OK Hernandez?" Moreno asked. It was a few moments before Hernandez could answer. "Oh s***! Brilliant. How we gonna get out now?" "Don't worry, we'll think of something. Let's get what we came for. You search the desk, I'll do the cupboards." A few minutes later Moreno came back holding a pair of trousers. "Look what I got. Gotta be worth a fortune," he said. "What? A pair of pants?" Hernandez said. "Not just any pants - these are Senator's pants. Without you dressed properly you can't get into the Senate. He'll pay plenty to get these beauties back. What you got?" "I got the Bulls*** Book. You know, the one that has all that Senate mumbo-jumbo. Without this he's stuffed." He held out a red covered book titled "In the Presence of My Enemies." "Great, let's get out of here." At the office door Moreno said, "It's locked. We'll have to use the window." "Oh s***, not again," Hernandez said.



On May 22, 2003, the Inquirer reported:

Suspected burglars broke into the office of Sen. Robert Barbers Thursday, the third reported robbery at the Senate in a month. Barbers said that whoever broke into his office stole a pair of pants belonging to the office janitor, and a copy of the book "In the Presence of My Enemies," written by American missionary and former Abu Sayyaf hostage Gracia Burnham. Senate sergeant-at-arms Jose Balajadia said a member of Barbers' staff discovered the burglary. The culprits were able to enter Barbers' room through the ceiling, as shown by hand prints the suspects left on the white walls of the office.

Chat Sites - Beware. Graham, (3rd Oct '07)

I was sent this, by email, by my daughter Gail and it gave me much food for thought. I doubt many of us have young children (due to out advancing years - sorry) but many of us have young, even teenage grandchildren. You may have come across it before, so sorry in advance. If, however, you have not read it, perhaps you should and pass it on as appropriate.

EVERYONE NEEDS TO READ ALL OF THIS and HAVE CHILDREN READ IT TOO!

After tossing her books on the sofa, she decided to grab a snack and get on-line. She logged on under her screen name ByAngel213. She checked her Buddy List and saw GoTo123 was on. She sent him an instant message:

ByAngel213:

"Hi. I'm glad you are on! I thought someone was following me home today. It was really weird!"

GoTo123:

"LOL You watch too much TV. Why would someone be following you? Don't you live in a safe neighborhood?"

ByAngel213:

"Of course I do. LOL I guess it was my imagination cuz' I didn't see anybody when I looked out."

GoTo123:

"Unless you gave your name out on-line. You haven't done that have you?"

ByAngel213:

"Of course not. I'm not stupid you know."

GoTo123:

"Did you have a softball game after school today?"

ByAngel213:

"Yes and we won!"

GoTo123:

"That's great! Who did you play?"

ByAngel213:

"We played the Hornets. LOL. Their uniforms are so gross! They look like bees. LOL"

GoTo123:

"What is your team called?"

ByAngel213:

"We are the Canton Cats. We have tiger paws on our uniforms. They are really cool."

GoTo1 23:

"Did you pitch?"

ByAngel213:

"No I play second base. I got to go. My homework has to be done before my parents get home. I don't want them mad at me. Bye!"

GoTo123:

"Catch you later. Bye"

Meanwhile.......GoTo123 went to the member menu and began to search for her profile. When it came up, he highlighted it and printed it out. He took out a pen and began to write down what he knew about Angel so far.

Her name: Shannon Birthday: Jan. 3, 1985 Age: 13 State where she lived: North Carolina

Hobbies: softball, chorus, skating and going to the mall. Besides this information, he knew she lived in Canton because she had just told him. He knew she stayed by herself until 6:30 p.m. every afternoon until her parents came home from work. He knew she played softball on Thursday afternoons on the school team, and the team was named the Canton Cats. Her favourite number 7 was printed on her jersey. He knew she was in the eighth grade at the Canton Junior High School. She had told him all this in the conversations they had on- line. He had enough information to find her now.

Shannon didn't tell her parents about the incident on the way home from the ballpark that day. She didn't want them to make a scene and stop her from walking home from the softball games. Parents were always overreacting and hers were the worst. It made her wish she was not an only child. Maybe if she had brothers and sisters, her parents wouldn't be so overprotective.

By Thursday, Shannon had forgotten about the footsteps following her.

Her game was in full swing when suddenly she felt someone staring at her. It was then that the memory came back. She glanced up from her second base position to see a man watching her closely.

He was leaning against the fence behind first base and he smiled when she looked at him. He didn't look scary and she quickly dismissed the sudden fear she had felt.

After the game, he sat on a bleacher while she talked to the coach. She noticed his smile once again as she walked past him. He nodded and she smiled back. He noticed her name on the back of her shirt. He knew he had found her.

Quietly, he walked a safe distance behind her. It was only a few blocks to Shannon's home, and once he saw where she lived he quickly returned to the park to get his car.

Now he had to wait. He decided to get a bite to eat until the time came to go to Shannon's house. He drove to a fast food restaurant and sat there until time to make his move.

Shannon was in her room later that evening when she heard voices in the living room.

'Shannon, come here,' her father called. He sounded upset and she couldn't imagine why. She went into the room to see the man from the ballpark sitting on the sofa.

'Sit down,' her father began, 'this man has just told us a most interesting story about you.'

Shannon sat back. How could he tell her parents anything? She had never seen him before today!

'Do you know who I am, Shannon ?' the man asked.

'No,' Shannon answered.

'I am a police officer and your online friend, GoTo123.'

Shannon was stunned. 'That's impossible! GoTo is a kid my age! He's 14. And he lives in Michigan !'

The man smiled. 'I know I told you all that, but it wasn't true. You see, Shannon , there are people on-line who pretend to be kids; I was one of them. But while others do it to injure kids and hurt them, I belong to a group of parents who do it to protect kids from predators. I came here to find you to teach you how dangerous it is to talk to people on-line. You told me enough about yourself to make it easy for me to find you. You named the school you went to, the name of your ball team and the position you played. The number and name on your jersey just made finding you a breeze.'

Shannon was stunned. 'You mean you don't live in Michigan ?'

He laughed. 'No, I live in Raleigh It made you feel safe to think I was so far away, didn't it?'

She nodded.

'I had a friend whose daughter was like you. Only she wasn't as lucky. The guy found her and murdered her while she was home alone. Kids are taught not to tell anyone when they are alone, yet they do it all the time on-line. The wrong people trick you into giving out information a little here and there on-line.. Before you know it, you have told them enough for them to find you without even realizing you have done it. I hope you've learned a lesson from this and won't do it again. Tell others about this so they will be safe too?'

'It's a promise!'

That night Shannon and her Dad and Mom all knelt down together and thanked God for protecting Shannon from what could have been a tragic situation.

Miller's Musings  The Philippines: 22 June 2007 (22nd Sept '07)
 

Through the Eyes of a Child

Many years ago Captain Dave Richards, the father of Diddie, told me that you can't put an old head on young shoulders. I used to think that was a pity; now I say - thank God! But I have just found a way to put a young head on old shoulders - thank God again!

I have been reading Ray Bradbury's "Zen and the Art of Writing" - "Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me. After the explosion, I spend the rest of the day putting the pieces together. Now it's your turn. Jump!"

And, "Zest, Gusto, Curiosity. These are the qualities every writer must have . . . ."

About half way through the book I had a revelation; suddenly I realized why I love this place, the Philippines. It's because here I see everything though the eyes of a child. Others would look at the shanties and call them slums; I see them as through the eyes of a child. Those shanties are amazing; almost magical. There children live in poverty and yet they are happy. They have no toys so they invent them out of sticks or stones as I used to when I was a kid.

I look across the water to the headland and see the little shade huts, not as humpies but as places strange, places that don't exist in Australia. I see the banca boats as if for the first time even though I have known them for over 30 years. I cross the end of the runway and am amazed at the little goats following their mothers. I walk past the junk yard and delight in the smile and the wave of a 2-year old girl with her mother who encourages her to say hello .

And the runway workers who wave and say hello whenever they pass. And the guard who sits in a lookout near the end of the runway and who always waves and calls "hello" and asks if I am going to Bali Hai.

Whenever I take a tricycle or a jeepney there is always something I see that touches my little child - it could be a sign, a chicken, a child, a bamboo fence, a shack - there's almost nothing that doesn't awaken the child within me.

It is like being born again and growing up again, always with new things to plan and to look at. Right now I'm sitting in Sunset Bay Resort looking at the headland. I know that beyond that headland is the bay where Jacko-Smith and I, along with my sons David and Gwam, arrived in the yacht Apocalypse back in 1985. And I know the red lights on the headland will flash all night tonight. And I know I love those lights as I love the sound of the waves I hear now.

And I can hear the twittering of birds - what sort of birds I don't know, perhaps just little sparrows. Now there's the sound of a helicopter, a Huey by the sound it makes - a regular thump thump thump - that takes me back to Vietnam in the '60s.

I see a fisherman waist deep in water casting his net in a huge circular pattern then wading out to see if he has a catch.

And I look out at the rocks showing above the water and can see my daughter Jennifer paddling there when she was 2-years old. And I can see her looking out over the restaurant railing, or standing under the shower by the stairs that lead to the beach.

If you think this is just a second childhood all I can say is that it should have come years ago. But unfortunately it will disappear when I get back to Australia.

Later . . . back at the house in Baccuit:

I look out the back window from the kitchen and see a huge caribou with its calf. The calf is paddling in a pool of muddy water that is surrounded by chickens. From the front I can see another caribou, this one is dragging an old-fashioned plow through a paddock with the farmer walking along behind giving orders. There is a faint smell of caribou poo but it doesn't bother me. In fact it reminds me of the days when I had to collect buckets of moo-poo for my Dad's garden.

And I'm re-reading the book "How to Write with the Skill of a Master and the Genius of a Child" by Marshall J.Cook. He, like Bradbury, emphasizes seeing the world through the eyes of a child, seeing with wide-eyed wonder, seeing with zest and gusto and curiosity. There is no better way.

Thank you Ray Bradbury.

***

I earlier mentioned that I look out for signs. Here are a few I have seen recently:

Pls keep surrounding clean.

Pls throw your garbage at the garbage drum.

Please throw your garbage properly.

On the back of a car: Drive with care - Please give God a rest.

Another: No swerving. Keep foot from evil. God is in control.

Second Coming Auto Repair Shop.

A sign in a Manila restaurant's toilet: No squatting on the toilet. If you need potty training please see the manager.

And the best of all:
Vendors are not allowed inside . . .the management.

Miller's Musings - Police English (18th Sept '07)

 

The Judge turned to the Prosecuting Attorney. "You may proceed Mr. Guinto," he said. Mr. Guinto walked to the witness stand and looked at Police Officer Tingting. "Officer Tingting," he said, "where were you at the time of the alleged shooting?" Officer Tingting scratched his head and said nothing. Mr. Guinto waited but still no reply. "Officer Tingting," he said again, "where were you at the time of the alleged shooting?" Officer Tingting shrugged his shoulders and looked at the Judge, but still said nothing. The Judge leaned toward the witness stand, and tapped his gavel lightly. "Officer Tingting," he said, "you will answer the question!" Officer Tingting scratched his head again and said, "But I no understand." "You don't understand what?" Mr. Guinto asked. "That word you said - 'allege' or somefin'" "Oh, that word. It means 'declared but not proved.' Is that clear?" "Well, no," Officer Tingting said. "What don't you understand about 'declared but not proved?" "All of it." "All of what?" said Mr. Guinto, now clearly annoyed. "All of that stuff you said," Officer Tingting replied. "You know, that stuff about 'declare' and the other stuff." The Judge leant forward again, and this time slammed has gavel so hard that the noise made Officer Tingting jump. "Officer Tingting," the Judge shouted, "You are wasting the Court's time. Are you playing games? Do you find this amusing?" Officer Tingting shrugged again. "What's mean 'amusing'?" he asked. The Judge swallowed hard, his face now a reddish hue. "Officer Tingting," he screamed. "Just tell us in your own words what you saw that day." "Oh that! Now I know," Officer Tingting said. "I seen the man doin' it wiff mine own eyes. Dey stuck somefin in da safe when it all wen orf wiff a big banger and ya shouda seen the smoke 'n shit it was every which where and I couldna even see wot they was doin after dat they not bein good boys so I said to 'em, jus stan up and done be doin that sortta stuff and then they got their guns and started shootin at me an lucky there was so much smoke cause they missed me but got the manager or teller or somfin anyways they -" The Judge banged his gavel again. "Thank you officer Tingting," he said and turned to the Court Interpreter. "Miss Lalane, did you get all that?" Miss Lalane looked up and flushed. "Well Judge," she said, "I found Officer Tingting's English very hard to understand. What does 'wiff mine own eyes' mean?" The Judge groaned. "Court is adjourned," he said. "And send for an English teacher."

*

On January 5, 2005, the Philippine Inquirer reported:
Cops need to brush up on grammar, too.

POLICEMEN will be made to undergo a six-month English grammar course to improve their communication skills, Philippine National Police Director General Edgar Aglipay said Wednesday.

Professors from the Ateneo de Manila University and the De La Salle University will teach the grammar classes at the Philippine Public Safety College (PPSC), Aglipay told reporters in Camp Crame.

The improved language skills of policemen will prove useful in their work, especially when they present their cases before the courts. . . .

Miller's Musings - Fire Trucks Of Hell (18th Sept '07)

The fire truck loaded with kerosene drove slowly down Edsa. High up on the tank MMDA chairman Bayani Fernando sat behind a bulletproof shield looking down at the street vendors and their stalls. As the fire truck drew level with the first stall a vendor stepped onto the road and threw a bottle. It bounced harmlessly off the shield and smashed onto the pavement. Other vendors joined in, throwing bottles and rocks while chanting:

MMDA go away We have a right And we will fight MMDA go away!

Bayani Fernando readied the double-barreled hose then opened the valve. Twin high-pressure jets of kerosene engulfed the vendors, their stalls, and their wares. The vendors fell back against the storefronts screaming and wiping their eyes. The fire truck continued down the street still spraying kerosene. It stopped at the intersection and Bayani stood up. "Have a cigarette," he called as he flicked a lighted cigarette onto the pavement. There was a flash, a roar, then a wall of flame swept down the street. He called to the fire truck driver, "Back to the station Lito - time to celebrate."

On November 11, 2002 the Philippine Daily Inquirer reported:

Facing a bleak Christmas, vendors again sought a dialogue with the Metro Manila Development Authority chairman (Bayani Fernando) on Monday to dissuade the agency from carrying out its tough sidewalk clearing campaign. . . . Fernando said he is ready to spray kerosene on the vendors' goods and is only waiting for an opportune moment to do so.

"I'm now considering using kerosene so that our work would be easier and violence could be prevented," he told reporters. He explained that with the spraying of kerosene, there will be no need for physical contact between the MMDA personnel and the vendors, and patrons of sidewalk vendors will be discouraged from buying the kerosene-soaked wares as well.

Just got this one from David Baker, It's great (6th Aug '07)

Did not know where to put it, Humour or Articles, but this seems fine - G

This has got to be one of cleverest E-mails I've received in a while. Someone out there either has too much spare time or is deadly at Scrabble. (Wait till you see the last one!)

DORMITORY:
When you rearrange the letters:
DIRTY ROOM

PRESBYTERIAN:
When you rearrange the letters:
BEST IN PRAYER

ASTRONOMER:
When you rearrange the letters:
MOON STARER

DESPERATION:
When you rearrange the letters:
A ROPE ENDS IT

THE EYES:
When you rearrange the letters:
THEY SEE

GEORGE BUSH:
When you rearrange the letters:
HE BUGS GORE

THE MORSE CODE :
When you rearrange the letters:
HERE COME DOTS

SLOT MACHINES:
When you rearrange the letters:
CASH LOST IN ME

ANIMOSITY:
When you rearrange the letters:
IS NO AMITY

ELECTION RESULTS:
When you rearrange the letters:
LIES - LET'S RECOUNT

SNOOZE ALARMS:
When you rearrange the letters:
ALAS! NO MORE Z 'S

A DECIMAL POINT:
When you rearrange the letters:
IM A DOT IN PLACE

THE EARTHQUAKES:
When you rearrange the letters:
THAT QUEER SHAKE

ELEVEN PLUS TWO:
When you rearrange the letters:
TWELVE PLUS ONE

AND FOR THE GRAND FINALE:

MOTHER-IN-LAW:
When you rearrange the letters:
WOMAN HITLER

Yep! Someone with waaaaaaaaaaay too much time on their hands! (Probably a son-in-law.)

Bet your friends haven't seen this one!!! DON'T FORGET TO SHARE THIS

Miller's Musings - Hong Kong Glimpses Part 2: A Journal, March 3 - March 6, 2007. (22nd April '07)

I am back in Ockerland again after an expensive trip to Hong Kong. Hong Kong continues to amaze me. I wandered around for days and was constantly surprised. Talk about a city of change!

The main reason for my trip was to apply for the new Hong Kong Smart ID Card.

I got to the issuing centre at Elizabeth House, Causeway Bay, at 7:33 only to find a queue outside the lifts that snaked around and down every corridor. It seemed to go for miles. But someone eventually opened the lift doors and carefully counted the allowed number of passengers - I think it was 15 per lift. My ticket number for walk-in applicants was 53, and up on the 6th floor I found myself again in a huge queue. But by 8:03 I was at the counter where a bloke took my details and told me to be back at exactly 8:45.

At 9:10 I walked out of Elizabeth House having completed the entire process. It was a very efficient process considering the number of people they were dealing with. One thing surprised me and that was the number of old people queuing up. There were no young people at all. Then it dawned on me - the application process is done by age groups and all those old fogies were about my age. What a terrifying thought! It was good to get back to Wanchai and walk down streets filled with young people.

Later that day I returned to Wanchai and during my walk down Lockhart Road I was dragged kicking and screaming (a slight exaggeration) into one of the many girlie bars where I was entertained by a bevy of beautiful young Thai girls. That came to an end when the bar was suddenly overrun by sailors from the US Ronald Reagan, supposedly the world's largest aircraft carrier. Brilliant timing - it reminded me of Hong Kong in the 60's when it was overrun by visiting US forces on R&R from Vietnam.

I had lunch at Jimmy's Kitchen in Ashley Road. At least Jimmy's is still there as is Ned Kelly's Last Stand. But even Ned Kelly's has changed. The smell of stale beer and rotting wood has gone as has the old Chinese waitress who called everyone "Darling." But the new waitress is nice - a very attractive and friendly girl from Nepal.

I went to the Sheraton Hotel intending to go to Someplace Else where the plaque outside used to read something like, "On this spot in 1859 - nothing happened" I have always liked Someplace Else and have been going there for years. Imagine my horror when I found it had closed - for good. It was like a slap in the face. I have no idea what they are doing - the whole area is boarded up.

Rick's Cafe used to be in a basement opposite The Stag's Head in Hart Avenue but then moved to Kimberley Road, but it has also gone forever.

The Kangaroo Pub at the end of Ashley Road closed several years ago and re-opened in Wanchai, Now another one has opened in Chatham Road just south of the Park Hotel. They are both in basements and rather difficult to find because they are poorly signposted, but the atmosphere is much like the old one.

And of course the hotel where I often stayed, The New Astor, has been gone for ages. In fact that whole block bounded by Hanoi, Carnarvon, and Mody Roads has been demolished and an enormous high rise is starting to appear.

A couple of trips ago I noticed the Hyatt Hotel had been boarded up. Someone told me that it was being converted into an office block. "Converted" was hardly the right word - demolished would be more accurate. The entire hotel has gone and in its place is rising something gigantic - God knows what.

I took the Star Ferry to the Hong Kong side and when I got off I had no idea where I was! That both amazed and disappointed me because I have happy memories of the old Hong Kong Star Ferry Pier. Later, on the morning I left Hong Kong, I was on the 47th floor of One Exchange Square and I looked out over the harbour to where the old Star Ferry Pier used to be. The manager of the office told me that the big Hongs are planning to reclaim the whole area from Exchange Square to the Convention Centre. God - if they keep that up there won't be any harbour left!

And the weather has changed - for the worse. The pollution was dreadful! During the four days I was there I didn't see the sun once. Not because of cloud cover - there were some clouds - but the culprit was pollution, like a thick blanket of smog that lasted all day and all night. And it was very cold for March - people were walking around with overcoats and scarves.

I stayed at the Regal Kowloon Hotel in Tsim Sha Tsui East, quite a long walk to the Tsim Sha Tsui MTR. But there is something else new - a pedestrian subway with moving walkways that take you all the way. And there are off-shoots from the main subway to the KCR stations, to the New World Building, to the Cultural Centre, and other places. Amazing!

It is almost 17 years since I left Hong Kong. However, in order to maintain my ID card I have been back at least once every year, and as long as I am able to afford the air fare I will continue to return. It is the city of my youth, the city where my dreams came true, the city that will always feel like home.

Cheers Hong Kong!

Miller's Musings - Hong Kong Glimpses: A Journal, March 2 - March 8, 2003. (15th April '07)

Hong Kong hasn't changed much by the sound of Alans article. Not for shell like ears but no doubt true. - G

The Holiday Inn Golden Mile. A room similar to the one I had back in October '01, smaller, but with the same view - the arse end of Chungking Mansion with pigeons crapping on the window ledges. I feel instantly at home.

Walking around Tsim Sha Tsui and taking in the smells. Not like the smells of Manila - smells of urine and filth - but smells of Chinese cooking, so varied and so tempting. I'm hungry already.

Even Ned Kelly's Last Stand has its old familiar smell. My daughter-in-law, Nicole, said it was the smell of stale beer and rotting wood and she's probably right. At least it's consistent. And so is the old Chinese waitress with the Aussie accent who calls everyone "darling."
*
Unlike the Philippines where the dogs and the roosters wake me every morning at three, nights here are quiet. When I get back to OZ my priority will be to find a quiet environment.
*
Pommie in the Kangaroo Pub, well groomed, hair brushed back, grey glasses, posh accent, dark suit, white shirt with tie, condescending attitude. He wags his finger at the waitress, "No, no, no, no," he blabs. I don't know what he's on about but the waitress walks by me and whispers, "He's an arsehole."
*
Walking down Haiphong Road toward Silvercord when I sense my wife and daughter who are back in the Philippines. I'm across from the Ornamental Garden Park where they used to play on the swings and the slides while I was seeing my bank manager. I'm suddenly lonely and wish they were here now.
*
Rick's Cafe: sitting here, the only person in the place, ignoring the music but looking at the faces on the posters - Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Marilyn Monroe and others. And James Dean with blond hair brushed back, eye to eye contact, a stern "don't dare me" look, red '50's jacket, holding a cigarette in his right hand with finger pointing left and left hand indicating his crotch. Trying to paint my own reason onto those faces long gone. It's like this every time I come here - the song playing now, "Move Your Body Real Close" is appropriate - even though those bodies have long gone, although in this place they seem to have been resurrected. Weird but true. It also takes me back so many years to the old Rick's Cafe that my sons, Dave and Gwam, used to frequent. While thinking about the old days comes the song, "Oceans Apart" - how true - so lonely, and as miserable as the weather - cold and wet.
*
The most annoying things about Tsim Sha Tsui are the Indian touts. I had the same problem last time. They are everywhere. If they're not trying to drag you into their tailor shops they are trying flog you fake watches. I usually make no eye contact and ignore them, but once in a while I am forced to say something like, "Piss-off rag-head." "Ah, but I am not wearing a rag head I am telling you." "No, it's between your ears."

The next most annoying thing is the number of Americans and their loud mouths.
*
The Kangaroo Pub: The American Bunch - a woman speaks, "Heart pounding and couldn't breathe - knew from the first time I saw him I would jump his bones." Shrieks of laughter. Serial bullshit with each trying to outdo the other with their romantic and "funny" stories. Peer pressure gone mad - and these are supposed to be adults - a scene right out of the worst of American soaps.

A guy from the other side of the bar comes over. "I believe you're the Pink Panther," he says. He's Garry Standen who later introduces me to another Cathay pilot, Kev Beech. Kev reckoned that I did his final command check. He said that on the final sector to Hong Kong I went back to first class and didn't reappear until just before touchdown. How's that for confidence?
*
Early afternoon in Wanchai. Stop for a beer in The Old China Hand. It's changed and now has an open front with a street view. Boring. Reminds me of an Aussie public bar. Go to a new place called the Mes Amis. No draft Carlsberg so I order a bottled one. Forty nine Hong Kong dollars for 330 millilitres! That's over 10 Aussie dollars! At Bali Hai in the Philippines I can buy almost 12 bottles for that.

Crossing the walkway to the Wanchai Star Ferry and look back at the Luk Kwok Hotel, the hotel that was used as the model for the film "The World of Suzie Wong" and I'm instantly back in 1960.

In 1959 when I was working for Qantas in Port Moresby I read Richard Mason's book, "The World of Suzie Wong." I didn't realize it at the time, but that book was to change my life. I had a weeks vacation and decided to give Hong Kong a look. I looked, I liked, and I stayed - and I have lived in Asia ever since.
*
Crossing from the World Wide Plaza to the Peninsula Centre and have to walk through the corridors of a building that is under renovation. The walls are decorated with some of the best photographs I have ever seen. All of Hong Kong, tightly cropped, each with a specific depth of field, and each conveying its own message. Reminds me of some of those my son took back in October '01. If I had a camera I would photograph the photographs.
*
Rick's Cafe: 18:10 - freezing with strong smell of disinfectant. Eyes watering and nose running - pew! No DJ and I'm the only person here again - I wonder why.

The DJ arrives, plays a few songs that mean nothing, but then, "I Still Have The Blues For You." Suddenly my mood is changed and I'm back as part of the place as I used to be.
*
The P&O cruise ship Aurora docked yesterday. Today the QEII docked, dwarfing the Ocean Centre. Item in the South China Morning Post says that the Ocean Centre is not big enough to take the P&O Queen Mary and it won't be coming to Hong Kong.
*
Red Lion Inn: At the bar. He lights a cigarette. Bald, glasses. "My girl friend here is Bavarian," he says to the bloke perched at the bar next to him. From what I can see he means barbarian: she smokes, is fat and bloated, hair like a floor mop dyed red, and wears dirty grey running shoes. Back to the bloke - Aussie accent, dark shirt and trousers with flip-flops - a real class act.

About 10 Thai girls work here and they are all expert "under-the-table gropers", much to the amusement of the passers-by, since the door is always left open. Innocent customers off the QEII looking for a quiet drink get quite a shock. So do their wives!
*
The plaque reads, "On this spot in 1859 nothing happened." This is Someplace Else in the Sheraton Hotel where Jennifer, my 5 year-old daughter, lost her balloon. Now I'm seated at the balloon table next to a Yank - he's on his mobile with a loud, high-pitched voice - "That would be so wonderful, yes, yes. Oh, nice! You are so kind." His meal arrives. Set down. "Oh perfect, perfect, how can I ever thank you?" Later gets up and minces up the stairs. A raging poof.
*
When I arrived on Sunday the temperature was about 20 with a little drizzle. Now, four days later, it's down to 10 with a strong NE wind. Just bought a pullover but the wind simply rips through it. This is the coldest I have been in 13 years. It's almost too cold to go out for a beer. Almost.
*
It's my last day and I still haven't seen a Chinese girl I would call beautiful. To me they have several problems: their rat's-tail hair cuts, their unsmiling faces, their lack of eye contact, and their rush to get someplace unimportant.
*
Back in the Philippines:
The L.A. Cafe in Ermita, Manila, on the site of the old Rosie's Diner. It's mid afternoon and already the place is packed with hopefuls, prostitutes, and poofs. A girl in a red dress comes to my table. "Hello," she says. We make small talk and when she figures she isn't onto anything she goes out the front door. I can see her through the window checking her chances. She comes back. "Hello," she says as if she had never seen me before.
*

Note: to be continued as Hong Kong Glimpses Part 2, March 2007

Courtesy David Baker - Fancy a Wild Ride - Read This (9th April '07)

F-22 (Raptor) takeoff, Sounds like a rocket.
                                                                                                        
I'm sorry to bother you people with this technical stuff, but I was so impressed with the capabilities of our new line fighter I had to share so you will know what you are buying. The planes I was lucky enough to fly would only gain about 10-12 thousand feet if you went straight up. So read and I hope you will enjoy.

"OK - my first chance to let the F-22 loose on takeoff. I was the last IOT&E pilot at Edwards and it was only a few months before I was to move to Langley. The test folks were nice enough to still let me fly there occasionally, and they had a perfect mission for me. It was a single ship, no test support (control room) required, and I had my own tanker. All I had to do was takeoff and fly around for 2 hours collecting data from the MLD's (missile launch detectors). In other words it was a free sortie with a lot of gas available and I had the airspace to myself since it didn't matter what I did during the sortie, in fact more maneuvering was better to get data.

Having never had a chance to really see what the jet would be like on takeoff, and since I had a tanker to keep me full of gas, I decided to do a max performance takeoff and let it go straight up to see what it would do. Edwards has that 15,000 foot runway, and an unlimited ceiling since it sits in a restricted airspace. So on taxi I asked for a max climb out to 25,000 feet, the controller said, 29,000? I said, sure that'll work. I really had no idea what I'd end up with and with my Eagle time I figured I'd be lucky to get to 29,000. So I let it go to about 570 or so which was prior to the end of the runway and started a pull, not too much g, maybe 4 or 5, and went to 90 degrees nose high. I wasn't really paying attention to the airspeed or altitude because I was really enjoying the view and the ride, it was amazing. I started to feel a little buffet and looked inside to see what the deal was, expecting that I was starting to slow down to the point where I was getting the same kind of buffet you feel as the jet slows down and a little alpha starts to build on the wings, that's how it goes in a Eagle too. Well, there's also a little buffet in the Raptor when your about to go supersonic, and to my surprise, and I started laughing, the jet was at .99 mach and trying its best to punch through to supersonic flight, straight up, passing about 18 or 19 thousand feet or so, it began a slow deceleration as I stared in awe at the HUD mach indication and at .94 mach I realized I was at 25,000 and was going to blast way through my altitude, so I rolled and started a 4 to 5 g pull to level out, which of course didn't work and I leveled at about 31,500 feet at about 330 knots (don't know why those numbers stick in my head but they do). Now for you pilots out there, you know when you pull g, especially at higher altitudes and heavy weight, it's a fairly energy depleting event.

So go figure, I'm FULLY loaded with fuel at takeoff, ALL of the weapons bays were loaded, so I am in my combat configuration, in a regular line jet, no tweaks, no special modifications, no weight taken out (as in the Streak Eagle or MiG 25 flights, etc.), nothing, just a line jet any old pilot could step to and fly. So I talked to the engineers and with some quick math they guessed I could have topped out in the low 60 thousand numbers. That wasn't flying a special profile like other jets have either (Rutowski profile - misspelled?), it was just a pull to the nose straight up.

This...jet...is...a...monster!!"

-Marc

Miller's Musings -The Dead Fred Saga (19th Feb '07)

In June 1991, after lying dormant for 600 years, Mt. Pinatubo erupted with a violence that shocked the world. The eruption threw debris 50,000 feet into the atmosphere, covered 100,000 hectares of agricultural land with lahar, made over 650,000 people homeless, and killed another 650. Fred was one of those killed, although at the time he was just another nameless victim.

Pilots from Subic Bay Naval Base found him during a routine chopper patrol. He lay embalmed in lahar on an upper slope of Mt. Pinatubo, an arm and leg pointing skyward in a final gesture.

The pilots were looking for a navigational marker, but the countryside, covered in lahar to a depth of 10 feet, showed a uniform bleakness as if a giant cookie cutter had set down a chunk of lunar landscape. Fred was the only identifiable object for miles around, so the pilots selected him as a nav aid, marked his position on the charts, and called the coordinate "Dead Fred".

Two members of the US Navy drone team, W/O Don Welty & Chief Mike Baumann, kept the Bali Hai regulars informed of Pinatubo chopper operations and Dead Fred. Dead Fred, they said, was a reliable and popular marker. But then the rains came, and with them mud slides, and slowly Fred sank into the lahar until only his outstretched arm was visible.

A few days later a young navy recruit announced “Dead Fred is no more.” By then Fred had become more than a marker; he symbolized the tragedy of Pinatubo. But the Bali Hai PT Safari Club refused to let Fred die, and organized the first Dead Fred Memorial Celebration. Special guests included the chopper pilots from Subic who first found and named him.

Many PT Club members claim to have had encounters with Dead Fred, usually late at night in the Bali Hai bar. The late Ray Clarke, Patron Saint of the PT Safari Club, claimed several discussions with Fred, although he was unable to recall them in detail.

The PT Safari Club adopted Dead Fred as an Honorary Life Member, and each year on the first Friday of June, hold a Dead Fred Memorial Celebration. This year, in the Bali Hai bar, club members will raise their glasses to Dead Fred, a man who did more than most to coordinate the Pinatubo relief operations; a man who became more famous in death than he was in life.

Cheers Dead Fred.

Learn Chinese in 17 Easy Steps (15 Feb '07)

We are all encouraged to be learning Chinese these days ..

Velly basic, ah don no foh sua, but maebe can come in useful Won Dae. 

1)  Great..........................................................Fa Kin Su Pah

2)  Are you harbouring a fugitive.......................Hu Yu Hai Ding

3)  See me ASAP......