If you haven't read this, you should.
Psychology of Suicide Bombers, over at the Counterterrorism Blog.
Milestone: Jim B from Kansas posted comment 20,000. And mentioned Quantrill and Liberals in the same comment!
Administrivia: For those of you who will be participating in the Project Valour-IT blogathon shortly - here are the flyers that Fuzzy is mentioning.
All Flyers for you hi-speed guys.
Which is why CAPT H won't play the Whatzis game... Interesting suggestions. Salad shooter. Jacuzzi. Nose trimmer. Bloodspite was closest overall (at the time of this entry, anyway). And Devin was the most interesting of the plausibles...
It's all a matter of scale.
That's the nose of the WWI Austrian Universal Grenade, an attempt to make a grenade All Things For All Purposes. A Swiss Army Knife of a grenade. A one-size-fits-all solution. Y'know - like the F4 Phantom, or F111. Except those turned out to be useful, in the end. The Universal? Well, how many of you have heard of one?


The thing is about the thickness of a hot dog. (I can hear the Ya-Ya's twittering behind their fans already.) It gets the name Universal from its ability to be either a hand-thrown grenade or a rod-grenade fired from a rifle. An impact fuze or a time fuze. The one in the Castle Armory is the rod version, as you can see from the left hand photograph. This one is also configured for a friction time fuze (that thing dangling off the side), with the percussion fuze as a back-up. The item in the lower photo standing up on end is the cover for the nose, needed so that the propeller-safety of the percussion fuze won't inadvertently arm. We hateses it when that happens!

The rest of this will be in the Flash Traffic/Extended Entry.

Update: Since the Gurlz of Argghhh! (heh, a calendar, perhaps?) seem to be a little confused, the following information is provided to help the Ya-Ya Blog Sisterhood (YYBS) better comprehend what is in the photo above (because if you read the comments, the YYBS' are having some difficulty)...
Top, from left to right.
British No23 Mk1, bottom of Austrian Lakos, top of Austrian Kugelhandgranate (both from last week), German Diskushandgranate M1915, British No 5 Mk 1.
Next under is an Austrian Universal grenade in rod configuration.
Next under is a long-hafted brass-bodied grenade that while it does have a proper British No19 grenade fuze on it is probably not an official grenade at all but someones attempt at a repro.
Bottom, L to R: German Ubungs, or training grenade that substituted for the M1916 and M1917 stick grenades in Stormtrooper training exercises. Russian Lantern grenade, British No19, with streamers (which are prolly replacements), British No1Mk2 (short handled, missing the streamers), German Kugelhandgranate M1915, and lastly, a German M1917 stick grenade.
One of these grenades (unrelated to repro parts) has something wrong with it. Let's see if there's a grognard out there who can figure it out. Hint - *I* wasn't paying attention at some point - a factoid which will only assist a *real* grognard or dogged pursuer of the question. Oh, and if you think I've mis-identified a grenade, that's possible, but would only count as extra credit...
Oh, and yes, dear - I've taken all the toys and put them back in the case, rather than leave them strewn on your antique butcher block table... really!
Today is St. Crispin's Day... the most famous (and perhaps far-reaching in subsequent impact) event of this day in history is...
Agincourt - the Flower of French Nobility is slaughtered. Net IQ of the region improves.
St. Crispen's Day Speech
William Shakespeare, 1599Enter the KING
WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

There are words to Taps.
Day is done.
Gone the sun.
From the lake,
From the Hill,
From the sky.
All is well,
Sleep tonight.
God is nigh.
Now is the time at Castle Argghhh! when we dance, In Memoriam.
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