The obligatory (and GOAT) SR-71 copypasta:

As a former SR-71 pilot, and a professional keynote speaker, the question I'm most often asked is "How fast would that SR-71 fly?" I can be assured of hearing that question several times at any event I attend. It's an interesting question, given the aircraft's proclivity for speed, but there really isn't one number to give, as the jet would always give you a little more speed if you wanted it to. It was common to see 35 miles a minute. Because we flew a programmed Mach number on most missions, and never wanted to harm the plane in any way, we never let it run out to any limits of temperature or speed. Thus, each SR-71 pilot had his own individual “high” speed that he saw at some point on some mission. I saw mine over Libya when Khadafy fired two missiles my way, and max power was in order. Let’s just say that the plane truly loved speed and effortlessly took us to Mach numbers we hadn’t previously seen. So it was with great surprise, when at the end of one of my presentations, someone asked, “what was the slowest you ever flew the Blackbird?” This was a first. After giving it some thought, I was reminded of a story that I had never shared before, and relayed the following. I was flying the SR-71 out of RAF Mildenhall, England , with my back-seater, Walt Watson; we were returning from a mission over Europe and the Iron Curtain when we received a radio transmission from home base. As we scooted across Denmark in three minutes, we learned that a small RAF base in the English countryside had requested an SR-71 fly-past. The air cadet commander there was a former Blackbird pilot, and thought it would be a motivating moment for the young lads to see the mighty SR-71 perform a low approach. No problem, we were happy to do it. After a quick aerial refueling over the North Sea , we proceeded to find the small airfield. Walter had a myriad of sophisticated navigation equipment in the back seat, and began to vector me toward the field. Descending to subsonic speeds, we found ourselves over a densely wooded area in a slight haze. Like most former WWII British airfields, the one we were looking for had a small tower and little surrounding infrastructure. Walter told me we were close and that I should be able to see the field, but I saw nothing. Nothing but trees as far as I could see in the haze. We got a little lower, and I pulled the throttles back from 325 knots we were at. With the gear up, anything under 275 was just uncomfortable. Walt said we were practically over the field—yet; there was nothing in my windscreen. I banked the jet and started a gentle circling maneuver in hopes of picking up anything that looked like a field. Meanwhile, below, the cadet commander had taken the cadets up on the catwalk of the tower in order to get a prime view of the fly-past. It was a quiet, still day with no wind and partial gray overcast. Walter continued to give me indications that the field should be below us but in the overcast and haze, I couldn't see it.. The longer we continued to peer out the window and circle, the slower we got. With our power back, the awaiting cadets heard nothing. I must have had good instructors in my flying career, as something told me I better cross-check the gauges. As I noticed the airspeed indicator slide below 160 knots, my heart stopped and my adrenalin-filled left hand pushed two throttles full forward. At this point we weren't really flying, but were falling in a slight bank. Just at the moment that both afterburners lit with a thunderous roar of flame (and what a joyous feeling that was) the aircraft fell into full view of the shocked observers on the tower. Shattering the still quiet of that morning, they now had 107 feet of fire-breathing titanium in their face as the plane leveled and accelerated, in full burner, on the tower side of the infield, closer than expected, maintaining what could only be described as some sort of ultimate knife-edge pass. Part 2

Quickly reaching the field boundary, we proceeded back to Mildenhall without incident. We didn't say a word for those next 14 minutes. After landing, our commander greeted us, and we were both certain he was reaching for our wings. Instead, he heartily shook our hands and said the commander had told him it was the greatest SR-71 fly-past he had ever seen, especially how we had surprised them with such a precise maneuver that could only be described as breathtaking. He said that some of the cadet’s hats were blown off and the sight of the plan form of the plane in full afterburner dropping right in front of them was unbelievable. Walt and I both understood the concept of “breathtaking” very well that morning, and sheepishly replied that they were just excited to see our low approach. As we retired to the equipment room to change from space suits to flight suits, we just sat there-we hadn't spoken a word since “the pass.” Finally, Walter looked at me and said, “One hundred fifty-six knots. What did you see?” Trying to find my voice, I stammered, “One hundred fifty-two.” We sat in silence for a moment. Then Walt said, “Don’t ever do that to me again!” And I never did. A year later, Walter and I were having lunch in the Mildenhall Officer’s club, and overheard an officer talking to some cadets about an SR-71 fly-past that he had seen one day. Of course, by now the story included kids falling off the tower and screaming as the heat of the jet singed their eyebrows. Noticing our HABU patches, as we stood there with lunch trays in our hands, he asked us to verify to the cadets that such a thing had occurred. Walt just shook his head and said, “It was probably just a routine low approach; they're pretty impressive in that plane.” Impressive indeed. Little did I realize after relaying this experience to my audience that day that it would become one of the most popular and most requested stories. It’s ironic that people are interested in how slow the world’s fastest jet can fly. Regardless of your speed, however, it’s always a good idea to keep that cross-check up…and keep your Mach up, too.

There were a lot of things we couldn’t do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment. It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however.

Everybody loves stories of American heroes from WWII. Certain names just stir the blood, like John Basilone, Audie Murphy, Ernest Evans, or Pappy Boyington. They and so many others are legends.

But sometimes, someone like @gringorugger9 reminds us of some of the lesser-known heroes of the deadliest conflict in history.

Like Sergeant Siwash.

Better known as

"The Devil Duck"

*insert @CountDankulaTV Mad Lads music here* On November 20th, 1943, the #USMC Second Marine Division was busy attacking the beaches on Betio, the largest island in the Tarawa atoll. They were facing the Japanese Imperial Navy's Special Naval Landing Force, a highly-elite force. 18000 Marines stormed the beaches, facing rifle, machine gun, and mortar fire. To describe the fighting as "intense" is an immense understatement.

On this day in 1992, Randy Weaver and his family were attacked by Federal law enforcement at their home on Ruby Ridge in Boundary County, Idaho. What began on that day would quickly become known as one of the most egregious examples of Federal police tyranny in the nation's history. Randall Claude Weaver, who preferred to be called Pete as he hated his given name, was born in Villisca, Iowa to poor farming parents. One of four children, his family was extremely religious, though they often struggled to find a denomination that fit their beliefs. In 1968, Weaver dropped out of high school and enlisted in the US Army, becoming a Combat Engineer.

We tend to pick on our Cav friends a lot, so I thought I'd share a story of a true hero of Cavalry lore.

Time for another Civil War thread on one of the greatest Union Cavalry officers of all time.

James Patton Brownlow James (Jim to his closest friends) was born in Jonesborough TN in 1842. He came from a renown family. His father was a preacher, a newspaper editor, and one time Governor of TN. His elder brother was Colonel John Brownlow, CO of the 9th Regiment of TN Volunteer Cavalry.

Good morning. Today's an important anniversary, so instead of the normal safety brief, I thought you might enjoy a short thread on one of the most pivotal events in US history:

The Shot Heard Around the World

aka the opening of the Battles of Lexington and Concord The Redcoats had been occupying Boston since 1768, supported by the dreaded British Navy and their Marines. They were in place to enforce the Intolerable Acts of 1774, meant as punishment for the Boston Tea Party and other acts of resistance.

It would appear quite a few folks don't know the story of the assassination of Julius Caesar. Which is both shocking and not. So here's a very quick thread on the basics. Want more details, go do some reading, it's good for you. While leading Roman forces against the Gauls in the Gallic Wars and before adopting the name Gaius Julius Caesar, he was known by his original name, Threadus Maximus Voödisius.

Let's do a fun little thread. Guy on reddit called SealandGI made these. Bet you can pick someone from this corner that fits each description (or more than one).

Time to revisit a story that today is largely forgotten. A story of men who fought tyrants overseas and then came home to a fight tyrants in their local government.

The McMinn County War.

Also known as: the Battle of Athens. Post Civil War, McMinn County in Tennessee was typically Republican-run. Limited to the smallest size possible to get their jobs done, the gov't was well-liked because they mostly just handled day-to-day business and left the local residents and farmers alone.

The month marks 79 years since the beginning of the air campaign that presaged the ground invasion of one of the toughest targets of the Pacific Campaign: The Battle of Iwo Jima. This battle would also mark the passing of one of the greatest warriors the US ever produced. The little island contained two vital airfields, and lay in a strategic position to threaten the Allied bombing campaign against the Japanese mainland. Japanese fighters from Iwo Jima consistently attacked US B-29 formations, and bombers raided US-conquered islands to the East.

Being told by MilTwitter that only Nazis study history made me want to put up a short thread on some relatively unsung heroes of World War II: The Jedburgh Teams. The above announcement went out at bases where US forces were prepping for D-Day, and about 300 of them answered the mysterious call. Only after intense physical and mental testing would they learn their mission: operate behind the lines to disrupt the Germans in prep for D-Day.

On April 21, 1836, the Battle of San Jacinto was fought near present day Houston, Texas, and it became a defining moment in the history of Texas. This battle lasted only 18 minutes, but it changed the course of the Texas Revolution. The conflict was between the Texian army, led by General Sam Houston, and the Mexican army, led by General Antonio López de Santa Anna. Santa Anna's forces had been pursuing the Texian army for weeks, and the two armies finally met at San Jacinto.

Despite being "The Forgotten War", Korea produced stories of heroism that ring down through history. One such battle, where the USMC and Army fought heroically against incredible odds, is the Battle of Chosin Reservoir, and the legendary Last Stand of Fox Co. General Douglas MacArthur, CinC Far East, despite China's warnings and against orders, had advanced north toward the Yalu River to push N. Korean forces into China. In Nov. 1950, the U.S. 8th Army advanced in northwest and the X Corps in the east, near Chosin Reservoir.

In the highly likely event of a "digital war", the Restrict Act is a WMD.

https://twitter.com/Kronykal/status/1641188632579960833

Remember the Patriot Act and all the lovely power and overreach the gov have itself?

Here we do again. And like last time, they'll abuse it from the outset.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patriot_A…