Sunday, March 9, 2008

Weekend Wings #10: Flying The Hump


Air transport today - whether civilian or military - is a complex, seamless web of people, machinery, locations and infrastructure. We take it for granted that we can ship anything anywhere in the world within a day or two, provided only that it can be broken down into loads that will fit onto an aircraft.

It wasn't always so easy.

World War II was the catalyst in developing our modern air infrastructure. During the war huge networks of intercontinental air travel were developed: new methods of freight handling and mass passenger transport were devised: and the experience gained by tens of thousands of service personnel formed the foundation for the incredible expansion of aviation after the war. Its effects are with us to this day.

The United States was unquestionably the world leader in these developments. The Air Transport Command (ATC) was established in 1942, drawing most of the leaders of US airlines and many of their pilots, mechanics and other personnel into uniform. The ATC set up immense air routes across the Atlantic and Pacific to ferry aircraft, convey urgent passengers and freight, evacuate seriously wounded personnel for treatment in rear-area hospitals, and a host of other purposes. After the war it would conduct the Berlin Airlift and become the Military Air Transport Service. Today known as the Air Mobility Command of the US Air Force (USAF), its mission continues.

The single most challenging, demanding and difficult task of ATC during World War II was to supply the armies of Chiang Kai-Shek in China. Japan had occupied almost all of the China coast, as well as Burma. Overland access was impossible to begin with. In order to supply the Chinese armies, the small but highly effective air element commanded by General Chennault (known to history as the Flying Tigers) and, in time, the US Army Air Force's B-29 bombers, an air bridge had to be established between India and China.

The first problem was getting aircraft to India. They flew the so-called South Atlantic Air Route, flying from Miami in Florida, via Trinidad in the Caribbean, to the port of Natal on Brazil's Atlantic coast. From there they made the long flight across the South Atlantic Ocean to Dakar in Senegal or Accra in the Gold Coast (today Ghana), then flew across Africa using the well-established Takoradi Air Route (described in the previous Weekend Wings) to Khartoum in the Sudan. From there they flew to Aden in Yemen, then along the coast of the Arabian Peninsula and across the Arabian Sea to Karachi (then in India, now part of Pakistan). From there they flew South-East to Delhi and Calcutta, then North-East to the Arunachal Pradesh province of India, the base for the China airlift. (Click the map for a larger view.) The area of the airlift's operations is within the black circle from North-East India to South-West China.




The China airlift was complicated by many factors. First was simply getting the goods there to be airlifted! They came by sea to India around the southern tip of Africa and, after the conclusion of the African campaign in 1943, through the Mediterranean Sea and the Suez Canal. German submarines sank many of the ships. Those that survived sailed to ports on India's West Coast and to Calcutta. From the ports their cargoes were placed in rail cars and made their slow, lumbering way to the airlift bases, where they were re-packaged for air transport.

The second major problem was that the Japanese had occupied most of Burma. Their fighter aircraft could (and did) intercept any transports trying to fly directly across Burma to China, the most logical and feasible route. This meant that the aircraft had to fly a curved course, heading North-East into the Himalaya mountain range to avoid interception then turning South-East to Kunming or continuing East and North-East to other Chinese cities. The Himalayas were a huge obstacle to the aircraft of the day, which couldn't climb high enough to cross over them (particularly when heavily loaded). They had to fly through valleys and past tall mountain peaks - and when the weather was poor and they couldn't see very well, this was an enormously hazardous undertaking. The satellite image below gives you some idea of the terrain.




Viewed from the side, the air route through the Himalayas resembled a camel's hump. That's how the airlift got its famous (or infamous) name - The Hump.

The map and satellite image below show the problems clearly. The map illustrates how much of Burma was Japanese-occupied (the red-shaded portion), and how this forced the airlift to fly around the interception range of their fighters. The satellite image shows the incredibly rugged terrain, with the airlift course overlaid to show how the mountains formed a major obstacle.






Added to the problem was the immense difficulty of getting aviation gasoline, spare parts and vital equipment to the airlift bases (and from there to China to service and refuel the aircraft for the return trip to India). The Hump was at the end of a supply line over ten thousand miles long, competing for supplies with every other major US effort in the war - the Atlantic, Africa, Europe, England, the Pacific war, and so on. Initially the supplies for The Hump were a mere trickle compared to what was needed. Even when they arrived in India they had to compete for rail space with the goods to be transported by the aircraft. Small wonder that there was a perennial problem with maintenance and aircrew morale. It would be near the end of the war in 1944/45 before these problems would be solved.

The weather can only be described as ghastly. In India, the monsoon season brought torrential rains (usually over 200 inches in four months) that turned airfields into quagmires. Attempts to reinforce the runways with so-called Marsden Matting or pierced steel plating (PSP) were not very successful: the aircraft were so heavily laden that they simply drove the PSP deep into the mud, where it vanished without trace. Eventually tarmac and concrete runways were constructed, but this was only towards the end of the airlift - there simply wasn't enough space to bring up the building materials on the already overcrowded railway network, and not enough labor to do the construction work.

Outside the monsoon season the dry, unbearably hot Indian summer took its toll. Dust got into the aircraft engines despite their filters and ruined them. One of the first commanders of The Hump, Colonel Edward Alexander, reported:

"Except on rainy days, maintenance work cannot be accomplished because shade temperatures of from 100 degrees to 130 degrees Fahrenheit render all metal exposed to the sun so hot that it cannot be touched by the human hand without causing second-degree burns".

Insects, wild animals, mosquitoes bearing malaria, the threat of disease from polluted water sources, and the sheer drudgery of incessant labor against enormous odds made morale a constant problem.

On the air route to China the challenges were immense. The need to fly through the Himalayas was bad enough, but bad weather, low clouds, fog, very strong winds and violent turbulence added to the problems and caused many casualties. If pilots made it through one day, they knew they had to do it all over again on the way back - and then again, and again, and again. If they ran into mechanical difficulties there was nowhere to make an emergency landing, due to the mountainous terrain. The crews had to bale out and pray - they would be hundreds of miles from help and it was impossible to reach them in the mountains. If a crew strayed too far South, Japanese fighters were waiting to shoot them down.

What about the aircraft? Three types of plane initially flew The Hump. The first was the well-known C-47 Skytrain, the military version of the DC-3 Dakota airliner. This was a very reliable and serviceable aircraft, but had a limited cargo capacity and could not fly very high when fully loaded - a potentially lethal handicap in the Himalayas. Nevertheless, the aircraft gave good service.




The second was the Curtiss C-46 Commando. This was twin-engined, like the C-47, but much larger. It could lift up to 12,000 pounds of cargo and its engines (2,000 horsepower each as opposed to the 1,200 horsepower of the C-47's engines) were powerful enough to get it to usable altitudes through the mountains. However, the engines were less reliable, causing many problems when spare parts ran short, and the aircraft had other vulnerabilities such as a tendency for gasoline to leak out of the fuel lines and pool in the fuselage at the wing root. This could be easily ignited by enemy fire or a stray spark, and was one reason why the C-46 was never a successful combat aircraft in Europe. Also, the more powerful engines consumed aviation gasoline very quickly. Very often when flying in heavy weather or against strong headwinds fuel would run low, causing many accidents.




The third transport was the Consolidated C-87 Liberator Express and its cousin, the C-109, which was a fuel transport with large gasoline tanks in the fuselage. These were modified versions of the B-24 Liberator bomber, with four powerful engines. They could carry a useful load, but had many problems. Chief among these was their sensitivity to center of gravity. A bomber such as the B-24 has its bomb bay in a fixed position, making it easy to design the aircraft around that center of gravity. A transport aircraft can have cargo loaded anywhere in the fuselage, making it vitally important to balance the load so that the aircraft is stable. Since the C-87 shared the B-24's center of gravity design, it meant that any instability in the load would make the aircraft very difficult to handle.




The C-87 was also particularly susceptible to icing in bad weather (a defect shared with the B-24 bomber). In the Himalayas, where icing was a common problem, this caused many accidents. Furthermore, the fuel lines crossed inside the crew and cargo compartment - and often leaked. This threatened to gas the flight crew with the fumes from the fuel and posed a major fire hazard. Finally, although almost 300 C-87's were built as new aircraft, many others were converted in the field from B-24 bombers. Those selected for conversion were mostly older aircraft that had seen hard use - after all, bomber commanders wanted to keep their newer aircraft for themselves. This meant that the converted bombers were often slow, underpowered and had poor serviceability due to being worn out.

These three types of aircraft provided most of the airlift on The Hump until 1944. It was only then that the new C-54 Skymaster became available. This purpose-built freight aircraft was superb, and could handle conditions on The Hump with ease. By 1945 it had taken over most of the flying - just in time for the end of the war.




The initial airlift effort was miserably inadequate, flying only a few hundred tons every month. By the end of 1943 the effort had expanded to the point where up to 10,000 tons per month was being transported, but at an incredible cost in lives and lost aircraft. Clearly something had to be done.

The US Army Air Force sent in General William H. Tunner to take charge of the airlift. During 1944 he succeeded in revolutionizing the operation. He stabilized personnel turnover, introduced regular maintenance schedules (which proved so effective that the US Air Force uses them to this day), and brought in the C-54. He insisted on fighter escorts for his transport flights, thus enabling them to fly further to the South and avoid the worst of the Himalayas, and also publicized the enormous efforts being put into The Hump, gaining for pilots and crews the admiration and respect of the rest of the world. This greatly improved morale - previously the Hump personnel had deemed themselves forgotten and ignored.

Despite all obstacles, and particularly under the leadership of General Tunner, The Hump turned out to be a success. It's estimated that from May 1942 to September 1945 some 650,000 tons of cargo and 33,400 personnel were transported in both directions, requiring about 1.5 million flight hours. These figures would not be exceeded until the Berlin Airlift of 1948. General Tunner would lead that operation too, and the principles he established on The Hump to handle massive airlift operations are in use to this day.

However, this success came at a heavy price. A total of 468 US crews and 46 Chinese crews died flying The Hump - more than 1,500 personnel. During some months more than 50% of the planes that departed never made it back. The casualty rate was at times as bad or worse than that of the bomber crews of the US Eighth Air Force assaulting Germany - but without the publicity and medals that the bomber crews received.

So, next time you take an airline flight or see a military transport aircraft flying overhead, remember those who flew The Hump. They paved the way (all too often with their lives) for the convenient, flexible, global air transport networks of today.

Peter

Saturday, March 8, 2008

They make 'em tough in Aussie!


I enjoy amusing foreign television advertisements - both real and imagined. This one isn't real, but is a spoof advert showing Australian men as they are reputed to be (or do they imagine themselves this way?). It's not exactly safe for work, so if you're not watching it in private, turn the volume down.





Peter

The undoing of gobbledygook


I'm sure we've all run into examples of gobbledygook from time to time. Forms to be filled out that are impossible to understand: regulations that are impossible to follow because no-one can figure out what they mean: academic theses, dissertations and articles that are incomprehensible to all except those with advanced degrees in Martian circumlocution: and so on.

Well, help is at hand from the Plain English Campaign. Their purpose in life is to help individuals and organizations, public and private, to clarify the language they use in communication by getting rid of excessive verbiage and making things as simple as possible.

I particularly like their awards - although recipients may feel differently, of course. The "Golden Bull" award goes to the worst examples of written language. In the beginning recipients were sent a pound of tripe through the mail, but this posed obvious problems of hygiene and sanitation: so the award was changed to a small statue of a bull. As an example, in 2000 the Luton Education Authority won a "Golden Bull" award for describing one of its activities as:

"a multi-agency project catering for holistic diversionary provision to young people for positive action linked to the community safety strategy and the pupil referral unit."


In case you were wondering, they were talking about go-kart lessons for kids.

There's also the "Foot In Mouth" award for public figures who make baffling pronouncements. Famously, former US Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld won this award in 2003 for the following statement:

"Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns — the ones we don't know we don't know."


Oh, absolutely. Quite so, old chap. I couldn't agree more. Hear, hear!

(What was that again???)

If you've ever despaired of such language (or if you want to make your own writing simpler and more readable) click on the link to their Web site and spend a while browsing. The award-winners of years past are hugely amusing, and you'll learn a lot.

On the other hand, I have a lot of fun responding to gobbledygook with my own version of it. If I receive an obfuscatory, verbiage-ridden communication, I send one back in precisely the same form. An excellent resource for such responses is the Web Economy Bulls*** Generator. This magnificent tool generates meaningless drivel with the click of a mouse button. Some examples:

"Transition impactful metrics"

"Deliver cross-media experiences"

"Benchmark front-end technologies"

"Synergize frictionless deliverables"

"Maximize intuitive platforms"

"Visualize bricks-and-clicks intermediaries"

Using the above, if I wanted to say that I'm writing this blog in order to convey my thoughts to my readers in the hope of interesting them, it would look like this:

"I visualize bricks-and-clicks intermediaries in order to synergize frictionless deliverables using benchmark front-end technologies so that I may deliver cross-media experiences to my readers and maximize their intuitive platforms."

I love this tool! I didn't have to hunt for any of the phrases I used in that sentence - the Generator is "generic" enough that almost all its output is usable "as is". Click on the link and try it for yourself. If you're ever at a loss for how to respond to the latest politically-correct verbal diarrhea, it never fails!

Peter

Friday, March 7, 2008

A tree surgeon . . . NOT!


Following my rather sad previous post, I thought a bit of levity might lighten the atmosphere - so here it is.

This video was taken in South Africa, where an enterprising soul decided to pull down a palm tree using a pickup truck.

Unfortunately . . . well, why spoil it? You can see the results for yourself.





*gigglesnort!*

Hat-tip to David Z. for the e-mail.

Peter

The tragic reality of evil


It's been a sad day for me.

A good friend, one whom I respect greatly, drew my attention to a court case in Australia.

Two lesbian lovers became sexually aroused while they bludgeoned a teenage girl with a concrete block and strangled her with a dog chain, a judge says.

The young women then kissed over the body of their dead or dying victim, 16-year-old Stacey Mitchell, the West Australian Supreme Court in Perth was told.

Justice Peter Blaxell yesterday sentenced Jessica Ellen Stasinowsky, 21, and Valerie Paige Parashumti, 19, to life in jail, with a minimum 24-year non-parole period, for the "sexually perverse" and "evil" killing. They are to be held in strict security.


My friend was utterly horrified at the very fact of the existence of such people, and - because she knew I'd worked as a prison chaplain, both part-time and full-time, for many years - wanted to know how I could ever face dealing with such "animals", as she described them.

I tried to break the news to her, as gently as possible, that there are thousands of people like that in high-security prisons in this country: and, even worse, for every one we've got safely locked up, there is at least one more just like him or her roaming the streets.

She absolutely refused to believe me. The concept was so far outside the frame of reference of her life that she simply couldn't accept it. She accused me of lying to her, of trying to scare her.

That's why I'm writing this now. I may not be able to get through to my friend - who, after today's conversation, may be less friendly towards me than previously - but I hope and pray that I can get through to you, my readers.

I'm going to post an excerpt from a memoir of prison ministry that I've written. (It's not yet published, but if I can find a publisher who's interested I'll let you know!)

It’s a strange feeling walking out of the penitentiary’s front door. To me it seems that the place has a dark, grim, glowering atmosphere. It falls away from me as I exit, almost like a weight coming off my shoulders. I can’t comment on the psychological implications of such a feeling, but I certainly have a spiritual explanation. The penitentiary is one of the Devil’s playgrounds. He has all too many willing servants inside its walls, even though many of them would scoff at the thought and deny his existence. I don’t. I’ve known corrections staff who are rampant atheists, who’ll deny the existence of God from dawn to dusk and all night long . . . but they won’t deny the existence of the Devil for a moment. Like me, they’ve worked inside a penitentiary and they’ve experienced the truth for themselves.

It’s hard to convey the raw, naked reality of evil to those who’ve lived a sheltered existence. Not all the inmates in the penitentiary are dedicated to evil, of course, but there are enough of them - as attested by our bulging two-binder Posted Picture File - that the oppressive miasma of their presence seems to be absorbed and radiated by the very concrete walls that keep them inside. You’ll sense the same foulness if you visit the site of a major atrocity such as a Nazi extermination camp (although, admittedly, it seems to feel worse in places like that). What else but evil personified can explain the actions of some of the hard-core criminals inside high-security prison walls?

There’s the Central American drug lord who silenced a prospective witness by ordering the kidnapping, rape, torture and murder of his six-year-old daughter. He then had her broken, bloody, naked body nailed to the front door of the witness’s home, with a note thrust into her mouth promising the same treatment to his wife and their other three children unless he ‘forgot’ what he’d seen.

There’s the terrorist who planted a bomb beneath a table in a fast-food restaurant. It blew off the legs of a mother and her two children as they sat there eating.

There’s the warped intellectual with what’s been described to me as a genius-level IQ. His intelligence didn’t stop him mailing parcel bombs to those expressing views with which he disagreed, killing and maiming the recipients (and sometimes their unfortunate assistants who opened the parcels) over a mere difference of opinion.

There are the prison gang bosses who couldn’t kill an inmate who was about to betray their secrets to the authorities, because he’d been moved to secure protective custody in another institution. Furious, they instructed their associates ‘on the street’ to murder his ex-wife, children, parents and grandparents (none of whom had anything to do with his crimes or the gang) in order to ‘wipe out the entire treacherous bloodline’ and teach him a lesson.

You may think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. I can name every one of those individuals and show you the prisons where they’re incarcerated right now. Evil incarnate: the Devil’s spawn in truth. None of them appear to feel even the slightest shred of remorse. It’s in the hope that some of their ilk may yet do so, and that we may be able to help those less steeped in evil from becoming like them, that people such as myself work in places like this. Most of the time we’re disappointed: but every now and again, in far too few cases for our peace of mind, we’re able by God’s grace to penetrate the walls of evil and viciousness which such people have built around themselves and lead them out. Fortunately, many of those in prison are less hardened. Only about one-tenth of the inmates in the Federal corrections system are classified as ‘high-security’, and of those not all are such hard-core evildoers. We hope and pray that we can turn inmates away from the life of crime that leads down that slippery slope . . . help them to change before it’s too late.

Many criticize us for even trying. They ignore the Biblical exhortation to visit the imprisoned (Matthew 25:34-46) and seem to think that we should be expending our efforts on those more ‘deserving’, those who haven’t become criminals. They point out (quite correctly) that many who ‘get religion’ behind bars abandon it as soon as they’re ‘on the street’ once more. However, not all abandon it - and our critics forget one crucially important aspect of prison ministry. With recidivism rates as high as we’re experiencing in this country, we can predict that two out of every three convicts will commit further offences after leaving prison. (That’s how many are likely to be rearrested for new crimes, statistically speaking. There may be more who’ll re-offend but who won’t be caught.) They tend to become more hardened and their crimes become more brutal and serious as they gain experience. They’ll make innocent men, women and children their targets. Even if they survive the victims will be traumatized, shocked, perhaps scarred physically as well as mentally.

That’s what drives us. If we can turn a criminal from his path, we’ve saved not only him but also everyone who would have become his targets had he gone on to commit more crimes. Prison ministry isn’t only for the inmates - it’s for all those who won’t become victims of crime because of our (admittedly few) successes. We won’t know those who would have been victims, and they won’t know what they’ve been spared - but we trust that God will. Perhaps one day we’ll find out.

Have you ever tried to help a family when the wife’s been murdered, leaving her husband a widower and her young children motherless? Have you ever been asked to counsel a seven-year-old boy who’s been sodomized - not to mention helping his distraught parents? Have you ever had to tell a father and mother that their eleven-year-old daughter, standing in the street with her friends, has been shot in the head during a random drive-by shooting and will be a mindless vegetable for the rest of her life? My fellow ministers and I have been in all those situations and more . . . and believe me, there are no words even remotely adequate to describe them.

One understands what the apostle Paul meant when he commanded,‘weep with those who weep’ (Romans 12:15). Sometimes that’s all we can do. It’s in the hope of preventing at least some such tragedies that some of us become involved in prison ministry.


Well, there it is, people. That's what drove me for many years in that ministry. However, I had to accept the brutal reality that for the really hard-core criminals like those I've described, I might - if I was very fortunate - get through to one in twenty. No more than that.

Many of these hard-core criminals will one day be released onto the streets. At current recidivism rates, it's likely that at least two-thirds will re-offend and be re-incarcerated. You need to take steps now in your life, and in the lives of your loved ones, to ensure that you're a more difficult target for them: and if you should be so unfortunate as to become their target, you need to be in a position to defend yourself and your loved ones against them.

Think about it. Do so before you or your loved ones encounter evil. Be prepared - and make sure they're prepared - to do something about it.

Otherwise you, or they, might end up like poor Stacey Mitchell.

May Almighty God have mercy on her soul.

Peter

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Not quite your classical golden "throne"!


It seems that the Hang Fung jewelry company in Hong Kong has long had a "Hall Of Gold" exhibit in that city. It's described as "an extravagant display that includes a golden palace and statues of Chinese goddesses, originally created to lure shoppers into the company's showrooms."

Everything on display is made of gold . . . even the toilet.




This piece contains a full ton of gold - which gives you some idea of the density of that metal!

Anyway, the rising value of gold has made it too expensive to keep on display. The company has announced that when the price hits $1,000 US per ounce, it will melt down the toilet and use its gold to make jewelry for sale in mainland China, where the demand is described as "unquenchable".

Perhaps so . . . but jewelry made from a toilet? Talk about "filthy lucre"!



Peter

A battle remembered, and heroes fallen


News from Norway is that the wreck of HMS Hunter has been discovered. She was an H-class destroyer of the Royal Navy that was sunk during the First Naval Battle of Narvik on April 10, 1941.




The First Naval Battle of Narvik saw the first award in World War II of the Victoria Cross, Britain's highest honor for gallantry in action. It was conferred posthumously upon Captain Bernard Warburton-Lee, Officer Commanding the Second Destroyer Flotilla (of which HMS Hunter was a member). His own destroyer, HMS Hardy, was so severely damaged in the battle that she had to be beached, and was later scuttled. He was mortally wounded during the fight. His last signal was, "Continue to engage the enemy."




His flotilla sank two German destroyers and damaged four, and also sank seven merchant ships loaded with munitions and supplies for the invaders, for the loss of two of their own vessels. The German invasion fleet was devastated.








HMS Hunter was discovered this week lying 1,000 feet deep in Ofotfjord near Narvik. The wreck was identified by the ship's crest, still readable after almost 68 years under water.




A memorial service is planned for Saturday. NATO warships will sail over HMS Hunter's wreck in line astern to salute their former comrades, over 100 of whom went down with their ship. The site will now be designated and marked as a military grave.

The German Navy achieved some individual successes during the Norwegian campaign, particularly the sinking of the aircraft-carrier HMS Glorious. However, over the course of the campaign in general (and the First and Second Naval Battles of Narvik in particular) it was soundly beaten, losing dozens of warships and transport vessels. This established for the Royal Navy a moral ascendancy in battle that was to endure for the remainder of the war.

Indeed, so severely was the German Navy handled that it lost all enthusiasm for a cross-Channel invasion of Britain later in 1940, a factor which was decisive in Hitler's decision to abandon Operation Sealion. So, in one sense, the loss of HM Ships Hunter and Hardy and the deaths of Captain Warburton-Lee and many of his sailors directly helped to save Britain from almost certain defeat later in 1940, and thus made a major contribution to final Allied victory in 1945.

Laurence Binyon put it very well:

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Peter

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Don't die here - or else!


From the village of Sarpourenx in France comes this interesting vignette.

They've run out of space in the village cemetery, so the mayor has promulgated a rule that "all persons not having a plot in the cemetery and wishing to be buried in Sarpourenx are forbidden from dying in the parish".

To add insult to injury, those disobeying Mayor Gerard Lalanne's injunction will, he says, be "severely punished".

I'm not quite sure how you go about punishing someone who's died. Perhaps he'll revive them for chastisement? Threaten to take away their good-conduct privileges in Purgatory? Send the riot police after their surviving relatives?

I suppose if one plans to die there, regulations notwithstanding, this might be described as a "grave plot" against the authorities!



Peter

A new twist to home defense


In England citizens aren't allowed to own or use firearms for self-defense.

One gentleman has applied his mind to the problem and come up with a solution that is, I must admit, unique in my experience.




You see, Joe Weston-Webb used to be a traveling showman. He still owns many items of equipment from those days, including a cannon once used to "fire his wife across the River Avon" - she must have been a long-suffering woman! - and a replica of a Roman catapult.

They're going to come in handy.

After an arson attack on his offices and vandalism in the neighborhood, Joe has taken steps to forestall any recurrence. The cannon is now loaded with "railway sleepers tipped with rubber".

He said: "That's the only concession I'm willing to make to all the do-gooders who seem to think criminals should be able to do what they want.

"I'm not out to kill anyone or even hurt them - I just want to keep yobs off my land. So I'm prepared to make my missiles a bit softer - but that's it."


That's not all. The Roman catapult now bears a bucket filled with - of all things - chicken droppings.




Police have warned him that he faces prosecution if he uses either weapon against intruders, but Mr. Weston-Webb is unrepentant.

He said: "The police seem to be hoping I'm just having a bit of a laugh at their expense, but they're the ones who have lost all sense of reality.

"This is a serious issue. People all over Britain are sick and tired of feeling like prisoners in their own homes and seeing yobs get away with it.

"It's absolutely typical of this country that the person whose life has been made a complete misery is the one most likely to end up in court.

"Maybe the police think I'm joking, but the only people laughing are the criminals. That's why I fully intend to take the law into my own hands."





I couldn't agree more! Good luck to you, Sir, and may your aim be true!

Peter

VH-71 Kestrel - where's the outrage?


Readers of my "Weekend Wings" series will have noted my description of the new Presidential helicopter program some weeks ago. Briefly, the VH-71 Kestrel is being developed from the AgustaWestland EH-101 platform to provide VIP transport to the President of the United States.




The initial cost estimates were bad enough - 6.8 billion dollars for 23 aircraft, or a cost of almost $296 million per helicopter. However, those initial estimates are long out of date. The latest estimates have just been announced, confirming earlier suspicions.

Brace yourselves.

John Young, undersecretary for acquisition, said the cost estimate to develop the most advanced version of the chopper had grown to $7.5 billion from $4.5 billion.

Costs for the first phase of an interim model scheduled to be fielded by 2010 have grown to $3.7 billion from $2.3 billion, or 61 percent, he said.


For the arithmetically challenged, that brings the total program cost to $11.2 billion. Averaging this across the 23 aircraft to be purchased, the cost of each is now a staggering, unbelievable $487 million.

Let me say that again.


FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-SEVEN

MILLION

DOLLARS PER HELICOPTER.



People, this is absolutely freaking bugnuts batshit INSANE!!!

The unit cost of a single Sikorsky UH-60 Blackhawk, used in the thousands by the US and other armed forces and already flying in the Presidential transport squadron, is approximately $14 million. For the price of one VH-71 we could buy 34 Blackhawks and have change left over.

The unit cost of a Sikorsky S-92 medium helicopter (which competed with - and lost to - the EH101 for the Presidential helicopter contract) is between $16 and $20 million. Even at the higher price, we could buy 24 of them for the price of one VH-71.

The cost of a Boeing 737 airliner is approximately $85 million for the latest version. We could buy five of them for less than the cost of one VH-71.

The unit cost of the US Air Force's new KC-45 tanker aircraft is estimated by various sources to be anywhere from $170 to $200 million (that figure is subject to confirmation). If it's accurate, we could buy two KC-45's for the cost of one VH-71 and have tens of millions in change.

The unit cost of an Airbus A380 superjumbo, the latest and largest airliner ever to enter service, is said to be $320 million - fully equipped to handle up to 600 passengers and crew. (Heck, the toilets on the A380 probably represent several times more usable space than a couple of VH-71's!)

The unit cost of an F-22 Raptor stealth fighter, including the amortization of all development costs across the planned total purchase of 183 aircraft, is approximately $350 million.

Would somebody please explain to me, in small words that my cringing mind can grasp and comprehend, why a Presidential helicopter should cost so much more than any of these aircraft?

As far as I'm concerned, the base cost of the helicopter should not exceed $25 million. I base that figure on the cost of commercial competitors to the EH-101 helicopter.

So HOW THE HELL do the bean-counters justify the additional $462 million or so that we, the taxpayers of this country, are expected to cough up per aircraft?

Dammit, it would probably cost less to gold-plate the darn thing, silver-plate the rotor blades, hand-carve the seats out of rare tropical woods, inlay them with semi-precious stones and provide genuine mink fur upholstery!

This is the most colossal budgetary boondoggle I've ever heard of from the Washington establishment. I'm not alone in pointing this out, either.

I simply can't understand why howls of outrage aren't ascending from every single commentator on both sides of the US political divide. Surely one's politics don't matter when it comes to identifying financial waste and - dare I say? - fraudulent expenditure on this scale? Yes, I call it fraud - a fraud perpetrated by the US government on the US taxpayer.

The sooner this entire program is canceled, the better. I hope you'll contact your Congressional and Senate representatives to express your outrage. If you don't, and the US Government gets away with this, then we have no excuse to complain about other pork-barrel spending from our representatives.

After all, given this example (and others like it), they'll understand all too well that most Americans simply don't care when they pour our tax money down a bottomless pit of waste.

Peter

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

The Ten Commandments - a psychedelic delusion?


According to Professor Benny Shanon, Moses "was on psychedelic drugs when he heard God deliver the Ten Commandments".

Yeah, right.

Let me tell you a few things to your advantage, Professor. I've worked with drug addicts who've been hopped-up on everything from marijuana to morphine and from hemp to heroin. I've learned to recognize a few signs of their condition.

First, if Moses had been hopped-up he wouldn't have come down from the mountain carrying heavy tablets of stone and speaking gravely about God's Will. He'd have slid down the mountain on top of the tablets screeching, "Yo! Y'all ain't gonna believe dis, but I seen Da Man! I s*** you not!"

Second, you claim that Mount Sinai was "an event that joined Moses and the people of Israel under the effect of narcotics". I have news for you. If they were hopped-up, the last thing on the minds of the people of Israel (individually and collectively) would have been issues such as "Thou Shalt Not Kill" or "Thou Shalt Not Steal" or "Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery". If they were hopped-up, killing wouldn't bother them (because they wouldn't remember it afterwards); theft is how they would get the money to become hopped-up in the first place; and committing adultery (irrespective of marital status) is what they would do (repeatedly, indiscriminately and sometimes without bothering to obtain permission) as soon as they'd succeeded in becoming hopped-up.

Third, in their hopped-up state neither Moses nor his people would be in any condition to debate moral imperatives or discuss commandments with one another, let alone their Creator. Some would be jiving to a tune in their heads (that only they could hear); others would be trying to stomp on the fluorescent psychedelic spiders crawling all over them (that only they could see); and still others (the older ones who started this crap back in the BC equivalent of the '60's) would be lying back, watching the first two groups and murmuring "Cool, man! Like, far out!" in ancient Aramaic.

If such people "witnessed the thunderings, the lightning flashes, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking" (Exodus 20:18), and saw that the skin of Moses' face "shone" (Exodus 34:30), their first reaction would be that Moses must have been smoking some heavy s*** and why hadn't he shared it with them? In the ensuing violence the tablets would have been smashed, Moses would probably have been killed, and next day not a soul would have remembered even one Commandment, much less ten.

The fact that the Commandments have survived to this day (albeit honored more in the breach than in the observance) suggests to me that there was perhaps a little more to their creation than a drug-induced hallucination.

Sorry, Professor Shanon, but your theory is as full of it as are the brains of most drug addicts.

Peter

An authentic voice from the front lines


Courtesy of Dad's Deadpool Blog we're introduced to Kaboom: A Soldier's War Journal, by Lt. G. He's serving in Iraq and writes of his experiences there.

I spent a while this evening reading Lt. G's comments. He comes across as a very real young man, and his account of service Up The Sharp End is convincing. For those who are combat veterans, there's an indefinable sense of when someone's BS'ing you and when he's telling it straight. My "indefinable sense" says to me that Lt. G. is telling it straight.

I also had to chuckle at his comments about Explosive Ordnance Disposal teams:

In my not so humble opinion, these guys have to be the looniest bastards in the entire Armed Forces. They drive around, wait for line units to find explosives, and then they move to that location with the sole purpose of blowing said explosives up. It’s like common sense, but the exact opposite. I do respect them though, which is something that is very difficult for a Cavalry scout to admit about other Army occupations.


I hear you, Lt. G. Been there, done that and got the T-shirt (and a few scars) to prove it!

His blog is worth reading. Recommended.

Peter

RIP, Gary Gygax


The creator of the world-famous Dungeons & Dragons role-playing game (RPG), Gary Gygax, died yesterday. He was 69 years old.

It's difficult to quantify Mr. Gygax's impact on our modern Western civilization, but it's certainly considerable. Most computer games followed the outlines and "gaming systems" he invented; almost all role-playing games since D&D are structured in a similar way; and millions upon millions of kids (many of them not so young - some even graying!) have participated in the fantasy worlds he invented.

I've never been much into RPG's myself, although I've dabbled in them with friends from time to time. However, I know that many are obsessively involved with them, to the extent that they almost re-make their lives around them.

In honor of the late Mr. Gygax, here's one such character (courtesy of Reno 911). I think he'd appreciate this clip as a fond farewell.







Peter

Monday, March 3, 2008

Gratuitous self-torture, caught on video


I've never understood the fad for so-called "Brazilian waxing". It seems to me to go against what Nature intends, and for no good reason that I can see.

Be that as it may, a lot of people have it done . . . and it seems that one salon installed a video camera to catch the expressions on their faces. Don't worry, there are no naughty bits in frame: but the expressions (and exclamations) are priceless.

Without further ado, Bayou Renaissance Productions presents "Waxing Enthusiastic".





And I still don't understand why anyone would put themselves through that!

Peter

Science lessons worth having


The Daily Mail reports that a group of UK science students has just completed a novel series of experiments designed "to show that the subject can be fun and interesting". The lessons were filmed for broadcast on British television.

It certainly sounds like fun! Activities included:

  • Running for cover from a shower of man-made meteors;
  • Dissecting a horse to learn about anatomy;
  • Making glue in the classroom, following which the students who made the best glues were allowed to stick themselves to a board. They were then hoisted 60 feet into the air to see who would "stick" the longest;
  • Calculating how many helium-filled balloons would be required to allow each student to drop safely from a 40-foot-high platform to the ground. The most accurate students got to try this out in real life, as shown below.





I wish I'd been able to fool around like this when I did physics and chemistry at high school. I might have enjoyed the subjects a lot more.

(On the other hand, some of my classmates - as I remember them - would have been crouched in ambush with catapults and blowguns, just waiting for me to clear the platform before popping my balloons!)

Peter

Say it with flowers!


From the BBC we learn that an Iranian man, named only as Shahin, has been sentenced by a local court to pay his wife, Hengameh, the dowry he promised her before they married.

It seems he never actually gave it to her, and she described his conduct towards her during their ten years of wedded life as being "stingy". Under Iranian law a wife can claim a promised dowry at any time, so she decided to do so in order to punish him.

The promised dowry? A quantity of red roses.

One hundred and twenty-four thousand of them, to be precise.

According to the BBC a single long-stemmed red rose costs about $2 US in Iran: so Shahin must now come up with a quarter of a million dollars to buy his wife the dowry he promised her a decade ago. To encourage him, the court seized his apartment in Tehran as security until he makes good on his promise.

Sounds like a good time to be a flower-shop owner in Tehran!

Peter

Almost a "final flight" of a different kind!


Following my Weekend Wings "Final Flight" post yesterday, I noted this near-disastrous cross-wind landing by a Lufthansa Airbus A320 at Munich on Saturday, March 1.





Damn, that was close! That was almost a "final flight" right there! Kudos to the pilot for getting out of that mess intact.

Peter

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Weekend Wings #9: Final Flight


This will be a rather unusual Weekend Wings. It's been difficult for me to write it: but as you read it, I know you'll understand.

The Bristol Blenheim was a light bomber developed in the mid-1930's for the Royal Air Force. The original Mark I is shown below.





It had a rather unusual genesis, as this video clip explains.





It would go on to be developed into the Beaufort torpedo-bomber, among other designs:





Unfortunately, the only video clip I've been able to find of the Beaufort in flight shows a tragic collision between two of them:




Both of these aircraft were to play a significant part in the life of one man: and he was to play a very significant - indeed, vital! - part in mine. Let me tell you the story.

On the morning of May 17, 1940, Wing-Commander Paddy Bandon, the Earl of Bandon, stood on the tarmac of the Royal Air Force base at Watton, England. He was the Commanding Officer of 82 Squadron, equipped with Blenheim Mk. I bombers, and he was waiting for twelve of his aircraft to return from a raid on a German armored column at Gembloux in Belgium. The Germans had launched "Blitzkrieg", the "lightning war" that would conquer the Low Countries and France in an astonishing six-week campaign, and his Blenheims had been tasked to stop one arm of their offensive.

Around the Wing-Commander were gathered a few of the officers of the Squadron and the Base, and a few lowly NCO's and airmen stood nearby. One of the latter, a twenty-year-old aircraft mechanic with the rank of Corporal, was leaning on his bicycle. He was known to his comrades as Bill.

Eighteen years later he would become my father.

They waited interminably for the return of their planes. At last a lone Blenheim appeared, smoking, staggering through the air, one engine dead, the other stuttering erratically. As it approached the crew fired a red flare, indicating that they were declaring an emergency for landing.

The Blenheim landed bumpily and coasted to a stop, its engine dying. An ambulance and fire tender roared up as the pilot, observer and gunner climbed down and sank exhausted to the grass. Wing-Commander Bandon hurried over and asked an urgent question. His head drooped and his shoulders slumped at the reply. This was the sole survivor of his squadron. All the rest had been shot down.

Slowly, sadly, he turned to my father and ordered him to take his bicycle and ride around the perimeter track, telling all the waiting ground crews to secure their equipment and close the hangar doors. In later years, telling me about it, Dad had tears in his eyes as he described grizzled, hardened Flight-Sergeants and Warrant Officers turning away from him, weeping, to obey the orders he conveyed. He said it was the hardest job he ever had to do in his life.

(To the very great credit of the Earl of Bandon, he immediately went to his superior officers and demanded replacement aircraft and crews. They demurred, and were considering disbanding the squadron entirely: but he stuck to his guns, insisting that the remainder of the squadron - the ground crews - deserved better. His bosses gave in. Twelve new Blenheims and their crews arrived within a day or two, and the Earl of Bandon led six of them on a raid against Germany within twenty-four hours. For his leadership he was justly decorated. He went on to achieve the rank of Air Chief Marshal, equivalent to a USAF four-star General, after World War II.)

Shortly after that incident my father met my mother - by falling on top of her in a bus during an air-raid! She always said that he proposed to her that same day, and she adamantly refused. He kept up the pressure, asking and being refused, until he told her one day that he would shortly be drafted overseas. If she said "No" one more time, he wouldn't see her again. She said "Yes", and they were married in early 1941. By then Dad had been commissioned as an Engineer Officer.

Within weeks after the wedding he was posted overseas. His intended destination was Singapore, but he was taken off the troopship at Durban in South Africa to help deal with an urgent engineering problem on Beaufort torpedo-bombers being assembled there for use by the South African Air Force. The rest of his convoy went on to Singapore, where all its troops were captured by the Japanese in early 1942. Dad always reckoned that some Guardian Angel had been looking out for him, because only about three out of every ten of that draft came home after the war. The rest died in Japanese prison camps.

Dad spent a few months in South Africa fixing the Beaufort's engineering problems and helping to establish several airstrips for the Empire Air Training Scheme, then was posted to Khartoum in the Sudan. He was tasked to go out into the Sahara Desert with a recovery crew to retrieve crashed aircraft. They used Commer and Bedford tractor trucks hauling "Queen Mary" trailers, designed specifically for aircraft transportation.





Khartoum was the East-bound terminus of the famous Takoradi Air Route. Aircraft were flown or shipped to Takoradi in what was then the British colony of the Gold Coast, then flew East from there across Africa to Khartoum before turning North for Egypt. By doing this they bypassed the German-controlled Mediterranean and North Africa. A map of the route is shown below (click it for a larger version).





Almost 5,000 aircraft were ferried over this route between 1940 and 1943. Many didn't make it to Khartoum, getting lost or running out of fuel and landing in the desert - hence the recovery effort.





Some less-damaged aircraft were dismantled and brought back entire; others, more severely damaged like the one below, had parts salvaged from the wreckage for re-use.





Aircraft were in such desperately short supply at the time that a new aircraft might be put together from the remains of three or four others. Dad helped to assemble many such "phoenix planes" that had "risen from the ashes" of their ill-fated predecessors. They went on to give good service.

In due course Dad went North to Egypt. High-flying German reconnaissance aircraft (mainly Junkers Ju-86P's) were observing British defenses and giving the Royal Navy at Alexandria a hard time.





In an effort to intercept them, Dad was part of a team that designed and fabricated extended wingtips for the Spitfire Mk. V in a field workshop. The Spitfire Mk. V illustrated below is of the same type that he worked on, but of course for interception missions it didn't carry a bomb as shown.





The new wingtips increased the wing area and enabled the aircraft to fly at higher altitude, aided by a specially-boosted Merlin Mk. 46 engine and a four-bladed propeller to make best use of the extra power. Their improvised, field-expedient modifications worked. In August 1942 one of the modified Spitfires shot down a Ju-86P at the then-incredible altitude of well over 40,000 feet, and two more Junkers reconnaissance aircraft were brought down over the next few months. As a result the latter were withdrawn from operational service in 1943.

After the Second Battle of El Alamein in late 1942, when Rommel was retreating all the way from Egypt back to Tunisia (while US and British forces landed in North Africa behind him) the RAF had a hard time keeping up with the rapid advance of the British Eighth Army. As a way to keep up the pressure on the retreating Germans, some bright spark hit on the idea of setting up temporary landing fields behind the German lines. My Dad was involved in this operation. They'd go out in a convoy of trucks laden with fuel and munitions. Escorted by the famous Long Range Desert Group, they'd loop South into the Sahara Desert to get around the German front line, then cut back up to the North.





They'd find a smooth, flat stretch of desert and lay out markings that could be identified from the air, then radio their location to the RAF squadrons behind British lines. The aircraft would fly over the German lines next morning, bombing and strafing as they did so, and land at the new airstrip. They'd be refueled and rearmed, then bomb and strafe the Germans again on their way back home. He described it as an exciting task, particularly on those occasions when retreating German forces approached close enough to threaten their operations. At such times the lightly armed airstrip crew piled into trucks and escaped into the desert.

Dad always spoke very gratefully of the help the USA provided. One of his favorite stories was the time he flew into an US Army Air Force base in North Africa in early 1943 in a very worn, clapped-out C-47 transport to collect some spares. He was treated to a GI lunch, and over the meal said something about how hard it was to keep the old transport going. To his astonishment his host, a USAAF Colonel, said off-handedly, "No problem - we'll give you a new one. Sign here!" and handed him a clipboard full of Lend-Lease forms. He duly signed on the dotted line, and the Colonel led him and his crew to a brand-new C-47 that had just arrived from America. "Take this one," the Colonel invited, and left them to get on with it.

When Dad arrived back at his squadron in a brand-new transport he was apparently the hero of the hour . . . although he later confessed to me that for the rest of his time in the RAF he dreaded receiving a letter demanding to know why he had dared to sign for an aircraft without official authorization. He fully expected to be required to pay for it! Fortunately the bureaucrats never traced the paper trail back to him . . . probably because he claimed to have signed the Lend-Lease form using the name "Flight-Lieutenant Winston S. Churchill"!

After the German surrender in North Africa in May 1943 Dad was transferred to Palestine (today Israel). The RAF used bases there and in the Lebanon to fly in support of the ill-fated Dodecanese Campaign in late 1943, one of Germany's last victories of World War II. After the fighting died down he had a few months in Palestine, and his descriptions of that troubled land (even then riven with strife between Arab and Jew) were fascinating. Terrorist attacks on the night train between Cairo and Haifa led to armed escorts being placed aboard, and he commanded some of those missions. He returned to England in 1944 after more than three years away from Mom, and spent the remainder of the war on home territory.

I suppose by any standard Dad had a "good war" (if there is such a thing). Between 1939 and 1945 he rose from the equivalent of Lance-Corporal to the substantive (permanent) rank of Flight-Lieutenant (equivalent to Captain in US terms) and the acting (temporary) rank of Squadron-Leader (equivalent to Major). Even more important, despite several close encounters he managed to avoid being injured or killed (unlike many of his comrades), suffering only permanent partial deafness (which worsened in later life) from the roar of aircraft engines. Mom was equally fortunate, despite enduring over 100 bombing raids and standing watch for incendiaries through many lonely, fearful nights armed only with a bucket of water and a stirrup-pump.

After the war Mom and Dad emigrated to South Africa, tried Canada for a short time, returned to South Africa, and settled down to raise a family. They both obtained Ph.D.'s (starting without even the equivalent of Grade 12 between them) and had four children - three daughters and yours truly. Dad worked for a number of employers, the last twenty years or so of his career being with BP, the oil company. Mom lectured and provided counseling services.

In retirement Mom and Dad settled in the town of George in what is today the Western Cape province of South Africa. Mom died three years ago after 64 years of marriage, and Dad began to get weaker and weaker. He's told me several times that he's ready to go - he's 88 years old now.

Last week Dad suffered a heart attack. He's very weak now and we know the end is near for him. I wanted to post this tribute to his wartime service before he leaves us, so he understands that we remember all he (and so many like him) did for all of us in the free world.

Dad, we haven't forgotten your sacrifice and Mom's. Freedom requires men such as you to fight for it from time to time. We're grateful that you answered the call: and, if need be, we'll follow your example - as will our children, and our children's children.

May your final flight to God be smooth and peaceful. May Mom and your wartime squadron-mates be there to greet you, and may your reunion be joyful. We hope to see you there in due course.

Thanks for being my father.

Peter

Saturday, March 1, 2008

Visitor #30,000


My 30,000th reader arrived today. The 10,000th was from Tennessee and the 20,000th from New Zealand: this lady or gentleman was from Canada.




Nice to have an international readership! Thanks for stopping by.

Peter

A shotgun on the grand scale


I've always liked shotguns as a hunting and defensive tool. They deliver a lot of power in a reasonably controllable instrument.

It seems the US armed forces have applied the principle to a devastating round for their M1 Abrams tanks: the XM1028 120mm Canister Tank Cartridge. Depending on which source you read, it contains "over 1,000" or "1,100" or "1,150 (est.)" 10mm. tungsten balls. These are fired from the smoothbore main gun of the M1 tank, leaving the container and spreading out as soon as they exit the muzzle. The complete round and a cross-section view of its container of metal balls are shown below.




The round is designed to be effective against "soft" targets (read: people, unarmored vehicles, etc.) at 500 to 700 meters. It's intended to take out enemies hiding behind inadequate cover, clear opponents climbing on friendly armored vehicles (sweeping them off like a broom - the balls won't penetrate the armor, so the crew inside will be safe), or bring down light structures through massive damage to the walls and roof.

Judging from the following video, I'd say it should do all those things just fine!





Hmmm . . . I think there are a few duck-hunters in my neck of the woods who'd be pleased to try this out on the local wildfowl!

Peter

Game consoles aren't just for games any more


I'm fascinated to discover a novel use for Sony's Playstation 3 game consoles.

Dr. Gaurav Khanna and his colleagues at the University of Massachusetts at Dartmouth have put together a network of 16 PS3's to form what they call the "gravity grid". I was at a loss to figure out why they'd use game consoles instead of "proper" computers for the purpose until I read their explanation:

The Sony PlayStation 3 has a number of unique features that make it particularly suited for scientific computation. To start with, the PS3 is an open platform, which essentially means that one can run a different system software on it, for example, PowerPC Linux. Next, it has a revolutionary processor called the Cell processor which was developed by Sony, IBM and Toshiba. This processor has a main CPU, called the PPU and several (six for the PS3) special compute engines, called SPUs available for raw computation. Moreover, each SPU performs vector operations, which implies that it can compute on multiple data, in a single step. Finally, its incredibly low cost makes it very attractive as a scientific computing node, that is part of a cluster. In fact, its highly plausible that the raw computing power per dollar that the PS3 offers, is significantly higher than anything else on the market today!





Well, color me impressed! You can read more about the team's use of PS3's in their research into "Binary Black Hole Coalescence using Perturbation Theory" here (and no, I have no idea what that means!).

It seems that Dr. Khanna isn't the only one to discover this novel use for the PS3. Dr. Tod Martinez, Professor of Chemistry at the University of Illinois, runs a cluster of consoles from IBM using the same Cell chip technology as the PS3, and links them to graphics processor chips from Nvidia. Dr. Martinez' research examines:

... how molecules behave when you shine light on them - which has wide ramifications for the fields of agriculture, solar energy and the study of human vision.

"We have done tests of algorithms and Nvidia cards are four to five times faster than the Cell chip, which is 20 times faster than an ordinary high end computer," he says.

Because both technologies can be classified as "stream processors" they are highly suited to moving massive volumes of data - unlike the general purpose processing for ordinary computing.

"Some people think it's just about having a faster computer. They don't realise how big a change it is to do computing at your desk after accessing a computer in a room somewhere where you have to wait around for results.

"Of course it does cost less, but what needs to be recognized is that it also changes the way people think about problems when they are given a hundred times more computer power."


More about Dr. Martinez' work (and Dr. Khanna's) here.

I'm from the "old school" of computers. I started working with them in the 1970's using Siemens and Telefunken military systems and IBM System/360 and System/370 mainframes. I went on to work with progressively larger IBM mainframes, DEC PDP and VAX mini-computers, the first PC's, and so on. I can still recall when, in 1976, the Shell oil company subsidiary in South Africa upgraded its mainframe computer from 1MB of core memory (little magnetized rings wrapped around a wire framework) to 2MB. This is what core memory (the predecessor of today's memory chip) looked like, magnified fifty times:




There were screams of outrage from the bean-counters, along the lines of "What does an oil company need with two megabytes of memory? You'll never use that much!" Well, I'm typing this post on a desktop computer with two gigabytes of memory - a thousand times more than that mainframe upgrade! I guess that answers the memory-expansion critics from thirty-plus years ago . . .

I've never used a games console: but as a former computer systems engineer, I'm definitely impressed by this evidence of their raw power. I might just have to get hold of one and play around with it to see what it can do.

Peter

A different slant on the Prince Harry affair


Fellow blogger The Remittance Man has an interesting take on Prince Harry's service in Afghanistan.

... all credit to the lad. He’s apparently been doing a bit of FACing for the Gurkhas; calling down seven shades of aerial destruction upon Terry Taliban’s bonce. But this does raise a couple of important issues as yet unaddressed by the Grown Ups:

Firstly: Does being blown to smithereens by bombs dropped on the say so of a Prince of the Blood give a recently slotted warrior of God any extra bennies? Does he get to push to the front of the queue outside the celestial bordello his priests say awaits him? Do more than the standard 72 heavenly hookers wait to serve his every need? Perhaps someone with a better understanding of the finer points of Muslim theology can enlighten us.

The second and perhaps the more important one is this: Will the various coalition squadrons* that have delivered deadly ordinance at HRH’s request be eligible for a Royal Warrant? Will they be allowed to carry the appropriate device on their tail fins? How does “4077th, Tactical Fragging, Nuking and Napalming Wing (By Royal Appointment)” sound?




Peter

Doofus Of The Day #11


The thing about dumb crooks is . . . well, they're so dumb!

Witness the critter in the video below. He holds up a convenience store, claiming to have a gun beneath his jacket. The owner duly hands over the money . . . then, as he leaves, the critter shows his empty hand and tells the owner that he didn't really have a gun after all!

The result you may see (and enjoy) for yourselves.




Peter