The USS Monitor’s Year-End Sail

As I type, the end of another year is just a few hours away.  I’ve managed to do a small piece each December 31st, so it only seems appropriate to continue the tradition.  And since the previous two “year-enders” had to do with endings (the breakup of AT & T and Thomas Jefferson’s resignation as our country’s first Secretary of State), I should write something involving some sort of beginning.

Who am I kidding?  Let’s talk about the USS Monitor…but only for a minute.

Many of you are already familiar with the battle fought between the Monitor and the CSS Virginia (which was actually the USS Merrimack in Confederate garb) in March of 1862.  As the first battle fought between ironclads, it pretty much ended in a draw, which shouldn’t be that big of a surprise since both had cannon capable blowing holes in wooden ships, but not in each other.

Anyways, two months after their engagement (the Battle of Hampton Roads), the Virginia was scuttled by Confederate forces to keep it from falling back into the hands of the Union.

And as 1862 came to a close, the life of the Monitor ended as well.  On December 31, 1862, she was being towed in the Atlantic Ocean just off Cape Hatteras.  The seas were rough that evening and the Monitor, designed for river travel, couldn’t handle the conditions.  She foundered and sank about 16 miles from shore.  It’s a bit ironic that the first two ironclads, built to dominate in war, both met their demise in circumstances that had pretty much nothing to do with the Civil War in which they fought.

So that’s it…pretty simple this evening.  2010 is nearly over.  I hope it’s been a great year for you, and I wish you a wonderful…and very safe…New Year.

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The Liberator is Born

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas.  Last time I wrote…well…it was nearly last year.  I’ve been away too long, but that’s ok.  Most of us have had plenty of other good diversions to keep us busy.  It’s another quickie…

During the last half of the 1930s, Americans watched the increased aggression taking place abroad.  A great number of people wanted nothing to do with foreign intervention, or entanglements, or war.  But as Hitler expanded out from Germany and Mussolini did the same in Africa and southern Europe, it became pretty apparent that war would come.  And there was growing disquiet over Japan’s push in China and her desire to create a giant Japanese pond out of the Pacific Ocean.

Of course, the U.S. military noticed all this as well, and they began pushing for increased armaments production.  It was during this time that the potential for war actually gave America the head start she would need when war did arrive in 1941.

One of the better-known projects to come out of this period was the Consolidated B-24 Liberator.  The Consolidated Aircraft Company had been approached by the Army Air Corps to produce B-17 Flying Fortresses under license from Boeing.  The B-17 was a durable, rugged aircraft that was pretty well loved by those who flew it, and Boeing couldn’t keep up with the increased demand.

But Consolidated believed they could do better.  And just like North American Aviation (when asked to build P-40 Warhawks for Curtiss), Consolidated’s leadership believed they could build a better plane.  So they built a four-engine bomber that was a bit faster, climbed a little more quickly, and could perform a 2,000-mile mission carrying three tons of bombs.

The new mark first flew on December 29, 1939 and, while there was favorable response to the aircraft’s abilities, actually flying the plane turned out to be a more difficult affair.  It didn’t fly in formation nearly as well as the Flying Fortress.  It’s lightweight design (which gave it greater range) meant it couldn’t withstand the same level of damage as the 17s.  And they had a tendency to catch fire.

But they could carry a big bombload for quite a distance, and that made Liberators a very popular weapon of choice.  So popular, in fact, that the B-24 would become the most mass-produced aircraft in U.S. history, with on the order of 18,000 being produced.  And with so many in service, lots of guys flew them, including my next-door neighbor when I was growing up.  He flew in Germany and was actually shot down.

And while there were myriads produced, hardly any are still flying.  There are a handful of survivors on static display, but only two are still capable of taking to the skies.

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Christmas Eve a Hit in Algiers

I’m not sure if I’ve been dreaming of a white Christmas, but we’re going to get one regardless.  It started snowing early this morning and it has been floating down most of the day.  It’s not been blizzard-like or anything, but we’ve probably got…I don’t know…five inches or so.  But everyone has their lights on and, as the night takes over, it really looks pretty out there.

In 1942, there wasn’t snow in Algiers on Christmas Eve.  Rick Atkinson describes the scene in An Army at Dawn.  “Algiers on Christmas Eve was festive if not quite spiritual.  The white houses spilling down the hills gleamed beneath a mild winter sun.  Palm fronds stirred in the sea breeze.  French mothers bustled from shop to shop in search of toys and sweets for their children. … Nipping from hidden casks of wine, troops washed their uniforms in gasoline and gave one another haircuts in preparation for midnight chapel services.”

Allied soldiers had landed back in November in an effort to drive the German and Italian military from North Africa and now, as Christmas loomed, everyone hoped for a day of peace and quiet.  They wouldn’t get one.

Admiral Francois Darlan was not Algiers’ most popular resident.  In fact, the Frenchman was one of the most reviled men in the war.  When Pétain took over in France in 1940, Darlan became one of his deputies and promoted an alliance between Vichy and Nazi Germany, which made him an enemy of the Free French.  When Darlan ordered part of the fleet to French North Africa, he gave assurances to British Prime Minister Churchill that it wouldn’t fall into German hands.  But Darlan’s duplicity gave Churchill no comfort (he referred to Darlan as “a bad man with a narrow outlook and a shifty eye”), so he ordered the French fleet destroyed at Mers-el-Kebir.

When the Allies landed in North Africa, it was expected that Darlan would order his forces to cease fighting.  But it took General Mark Clark three days (and numerous threats) to finally get Darlan to give the orders, which didn’t sit well Eisenhower.  And then Darlan couldn’t convince Admiral Jean de Laborde to spirit much of the remaining French fleet out of Toulon, and that didn’t endear him to anyone.

So Darlan was pretty much hated by everyone on the Allied side of the fighting.  He was now hated by the Germans (for surrendering Vichy forces in North Africa).  And he was hated by pro-Vichy, pro-Nazi elements, who now considered him to be a traitor.

But only Fernand Bonnier de la Chapelle acted on his feelings.  This 20-year-old son of a French journalist was an ardent anti-Vichyiste.  Shortly after 3:00pm on December 24, 1942, he waited until Darlan returned to his office, where he promptly shot the Admiral twice in the head and once in the abdomen.  Darlan would die a short time later on the operating table, and Chapelle would be executed the day after Christmas.

The reaction to Francois Darlan’s death was, well, I think Atkinson’s words are way better than mine, so let’s allow him to finish up.  “While Mark Clark considered that Darlan’s death was ‘like the lancing of a troublesome boil,’ he moved quickly to score propaganda points by implying Axis complicity in the murder.  An official AFHQ statement declared, ‘Complete order reigns in Algiers notwithstanding general indignation caused by the event.’  The suggestion that the citizenry might riot in pique at Darlan’s demise struck many as ludicrous.  One correpsondent observed that he had ‘never seen happier faces in Algiers.’

It’s a bit morbid, but Christmas Eve in Algiers got a little better for a lot of people.

Recommended Reading: An Army at Dawn

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The Lincoln Tunnel Opens for Business

The PWA (Public Works Administration) was formed in 1933. Like all the other programs that comprised President Roosevelt’s New Deal, the PWA was designed to help kick-start an economy devastated by depression. The focus of the PWA was public works projects (bridges, dams, roads, schools, etc.), which would create thousands of jobs. The people hired would be paid, and would in turn spend their money on goods and services, thereby stimulating the economy. And though PWA was only around for six years, it was responsible for the start of thousands of projects all over the country.

Much ink has been used (and probably a little blood shed) arguing over the merits of Roosevelt’s New Deal…it helped spur the economy and bring the U.S. out of the Great Depression…it infused into American culture a massive influx of entitlement programs and government control.  So much ink, in fact, that I don’t need to spend any time on it.  My opinion doesn’t matter anyways.  What we need is a history lesson of some kind…it’s been four days, after all.

On December 22, 1937, a PWA-funded project was completed as the first two lanes of the Lincoln Tunnel were opened for business.  Construction on the Tunnel, which runs under the Hudson River and connects New York’s Manhattan with New Jersey’s Weehawken, began in 1934 and cost $75,000,000.

Its first year in service didn’t see much use, as just 1.8 million cars passed through the 8,200-foot tunnel (which averages out to about 3.5 cars per minute).  But there weren’t nearly as many cars around in the 1930s, and with the arrival of the Second World War, resource rationing cut into the overall traffic even more.

But that’s not the case today.  Two more lanes were opened in 1945, with another two built and pressed into service a dozen years later.  As part of I-495, the Lincoln Tunnel routinely sees more than 120,000 cars pass through each day (83.3 cars per minute).

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Day Two of the Bulge: Dazed and Confused

As the Battle of the Bulge entered its second day, it was pretty clear that a lot of things were unclear.

For the Allies, confusion reigned as commanders struggled to come to grips with what was really happening on what was supposed to be a “Ghost Front.”  There was talk of English-speaking Germans in American uniforms…there were rumors that some of these men had already been captured.  Weather conditions and heavy cloud kept Allied reconaissance (in the best case) ineffective or (in the worst case) grounded altogether.  Communication lines with front-line officers had been cut in the initial bombardment, so giving and receiving orders was, in places, completely impossible.  And men not prepared to fight had suddenly been awakened from a “war-footing” slumber with a desperate enemy breathing down their necks.

The men wearing the other uniforms were not asleep.  On the contrary, they were ready to jump off.  But the fog of war served to make its own confusion.  The German High Command had laid out a series of simple goals:  make for Antwerp and Brussels and seek to divide the enemy.  But the implementation of those goals was largely dependent on good timing and good fortune.  Personnel had to achieve their goals within a certain time (and before the Allied forces could regain their footing) or, like a house of cards when the breeze kicks up, it would all come tumbling down.

And for the Germans, the “tumbling down” process was already happening, in just the offensive’s second day.

As a perfect example, consider paratroop Colonel Friedrich August Freiherr von der Heydte.  Less than two weeks before Watch on the Rhine (the German name for the Battle of the Bulge) began, he was informed that he would be receiving 1,200 elite paratroopers for a secret mission (he didn’t know what) against targets (he didn’t know where) to disrupt the enemy (he didn’t know who).  It wasn’t until the 14th (two days before the jumpoff) that he and his 1,200 men – which, far from elite, turned out to be mostly the rag-tags and troublemakers other commander didn’t want.  Only a couple hundred had any real jump experience at all – got word that their mission would be to drop into the Ardennes, capture the crossroads leading to Verviers, Eupen, and Malmedy, and tie up American reinforcements.

And in the early morning of December 17, 1944, Baron von der Heydte’s jumped off…one day later than scheduled and all over the place.  High winds and inexperienced pilots meant drop zones got badly missed.  More than 100 planes took paratroopers into the sky, but just 35 of them got their cargoes to the right spot.  Some missed by more than 100 miles, many dropping behind their own lines in Germany.  For the Colonel, this was far worse than the debacle he had experienced in Crete.  At least Crete was an island, and the men were confined to well-defined space.  But try to find your men when your search territory is Europe!  It was a pretty bad predicament.

As dawn broke, von der Heydte had gathered four privates, a lieutenant, and an injured sergeant.  When they reached the crossroads, another 20 men had joined them.  As they swapped stories and struggled to shake off the numbing cold, trucks filled with American infantry came around the corner and began passing the men.  With no time to think or even plan a defense, the Germans could do nothing but watch.  But rather than firing, the Americans simply waved as they passed, probably thinking they were friendly forces.

The slowly-growing group of Germans watched the first of many convoys pass, as the U.S. 7th Armored Division and 1st Infantry Division made their way east.  Had von der Heydte been equipped with his full 1,200-man roster, he could have done some serious impeding and delaying.  As it was, his group (which grew to over 100 men) was basically spectators.

Confused Germans, wondering what had happened to their comrades, watching confused Americans, wondering what was happening to theirs.

Recommended Reading: Ardennes: The Secret War

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Secretary’s Night Moves Reach the Light of Day

I was doing some digging on the Internet the last week and came across an article that referenced the following verses from the Bible…“But there is nothing covered up that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known.  Accordingly, whatever you have said in the dark will be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in the inner rooms will be proclaimed upon the housetops.”  Taken from the New Testament’s book of Luke, they are perfectly suited to Today’s History Lesson.

Alexander Hamilton’s affair with Maria Reynolds left a blot on what was the exceptional (if controversial) life of one of America’s most important and influential Founders.  In his biography of the man, Ron Chernow summarizes this black episode by writing, “The Reynolds affair was a sad and inexcusable lapse on Hamilton’s part, made only the more reprehensible by his high office, his self-proclaimed morality, his frequently missed chances to end the liaison, and the love and loyalty of his pregnant wife.”

And he very nearly got away with it.

He probably would have had not James Reynolds ended up in jail.  The husband of Maria Reynolds was, in modern parlance, “a complete jerk.”  He let his wife continue in an illicit relationship with a member of President Washington’s Cabinet, then worked to extort money from him, all the while putting on the facade of the wronged man.

But Reynolds was also a scammer, and that’s how Hamilton’s secret became known.  Reynolds (and another man) tried to defraud the government by passing themselves off as the executors of a dead war veteran in order to collect $400 in benefits.  The plan’s failure landed Reynolds in jail.  And because the name of the war veteran came from a list stolen from Hamilton’s Treasury Department, the charges filed against the defendants were made by Treasury.  Immediately Reynolds suspected Hamilton of engaging in a bit of “payback”, and began dropping hints that he had information damaging to the Secretary.

At first it was believed that the Treasury Secretary was engaged in some sort of illegal activity…maybe illegal speculation or diverting funds or collusion.  Congressman Frederick Muhlenberg was the first to suspect the worst (having talked extensively with Jacob Clingman, Reynolds’ partner-in-crime), and visited with fellow Congressman Abraham Venable and Senator James Monroe.  The three men decided to write a letter and give it to the President, but to visit Hamilton before making the delivery.

On the morning of December 15, 1792, the three entered Hamilton’s office and confronted the Secretary about improper dealings with James Reynolds (who by now had been released from jail and had skipped town).  He responded angrily about the manner of their approach but denied nothing, instead inviting them to his home that evening, where he said he would explain everything.

That night, the three Congressmen, expecting to hear a tale of misdeeds and impropriety that had taken place behind the office door, were instead given a detailed account of a tawdry affair that had taken place behind a bedroom door.  Alexander Hamilton, as was typical, was incredibly detailed.  Chernow continues, “…as if in need of some cathartic cleansing, Hamilton briefed them in agonizing detail about how the husband had acted as a bawd for the wife; how the blackmail payments had been made; the loathing the couple had aroused in him; and his final wish to be rid of them.”  Alexander Hamilton came completely clean…letters, payments, details, dates, times…everything.

The letter to the President was set aside.  James Monroe would later write, “We left under an impression our suspicions were removed.  He acknowledged our conduct toward him had been fair and liberal – he could not complain of it.”

The three men all swore they would keep Hamilton’s confession completely private.  But as our Scriptures above will attest, Hamilton’s deeds were now public, even if the circle of “those in the know” was small.  It wouldn’t take long for news of those deeds to spread.

Recommended Reading: Alexander Hamilton

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Hamilton’s Excise Program Has Distillers Out of Shape

Nowadays, the government has all sorts of ways to generate revenue.  When you get your paycheck, part of it goes to the government.  When you buy something, there’s almost always a tax on it.  Still have a land line at your house?  Guess what?…you probably pay a tax to Washington each month.  Win the lottery?…you paid taxes.  Do you drive?  Every gallon of gas is heavily taxed.  Taxes when you live, taxes when you die, and taxes for just about everything in between.  It’s the American way.

In 1790, the government had about one way to generate revenue, and that was via import tariffs.  People tried all sorts of ways to avoid paying them, but the Revenue-Marine, created in August of that year by the Treasury Department, made avoiding the tax man pretty difficult.  And that was good for Washington…well, actually it was still Philadelphia (though Washington was the President).

As 1790 came to a close, a couple of things were pretty apparent.  First, the revenues coming in were substantial.  Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton’s goal of reducing the debt and improving America’s credit was being achieved.  The economy was growing and the value of government securities had tripled.  The United States was operating at a surplus.

Second, it was Great Britain that was paying most of the bills.  The old mother country was far and away the biggest importer, which meant she paid most of the tariffs.

Third, at Hamilton’s urging, the federal government had taken on all the leftover war debts of the individual states.  This issue had caused the first major disagreement in Congress (and will eventually get some ink time around here), but had been resolved with one of the country’s first compromises.  It also left the Treasury Secretary in something of a bind.  Import duties were about as high as Hamilton dared raise them and he believed it was necessary to spread the pain around a bit.  But direct taxation of the people was fraught with peril, and a land tax (while good for the coffers) would have been universally loathed.

So Hamilton looked at “sin” taxes, particularly whiskey and domestic spirits.  It wasn’t a new idea.  As Hamilton had taken his post the year before, he had written to his friend James Madison.  “May I ask of you friendship to put to paper and send me your thoughts on such objects as may have occurred to you for an addition to our revenue…”.  Among Madison’s ideas was a tax on home distilleries, believing that “as direct taxes would be still more generally obnoxious and as imports are already loaded as far as they will bear…”.  He also believed that such an excise tax had a social benefit, reducing drunkeness and disease.

On December 13, 1790, Alexander Hamilton presented his plan to Congress.  And as expected, howls of protest were heard.  Home breweries were a sacred part of local culture, and government intervention of any kind (to say nothing of direct taxation) was badly resented.  It was clear that many distillers would only give the government its share at the end of a musket…which is exactly what happened.  And we’ll cover that at some point as well.

Recommended Reading: Alexander Hamilton

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Bombs at Dueren Fire up More Than a City

Though he was just 29 years old, Joachim Peiper had lived a lifetime.  A Colonel in the SS Sixth Panzer Army, he had served with distinction on the Russian Front, which meant he had witnessed (and been a part of) scenes of violence rarely surpassed in a war full of terrible deeds.  Max Hastings, who I consider to be one of the finest historical writers of our generation, gives us a brief introduction to the man in his masterful book Armageddon.

He writes, “Peiper, a Knight’s Cross holder, was the archetypal brave, gifted Waffen SS commander just twenty-nine years old, with a record of brutality on the Russian Front which commanded respect even in SS circles.  In one advance, Peiper’s battalion claimed 2,500 Russians killed and just three captured.”

But in December of 1944, Peiper was no longer on the Russian Front.  As the Red Army bore down from the east, Peiper had been moved west…to the front facing the Americans.  It was hoped that Operation Watch on the Rhine (which we have come to know as the Battle of the Bulge) would push the Allies far enough westward to maybe divide them and get a separate peace deal done.  Our Colonel, his men, and his tanks had been secretly moved into place and were prepared to jump off.

And as we remember from last year, it was Peiper’s men who massacred the American soldiers at Malmedy.  It’s easy for us to understand how such an event happened.  A group of German soldiers, well-versed in a take-no-prisoners style of warfare, led by a take-no-prisoners battalion commander, and placed in a desperate, last-gasp situation.  It’s pretty cut and dried.

But I think there’s even more to it.  On December 12, 1944 (just four days before the Battle of the Bulge began), Peiper and his men were in Dueren, Germany when it was bombed by light bombers from the U.S. Ninth Air force.  Of course, it wasn’t the first time Dueren had been targeted.  On November 16th, the city had been absolutely plastered by British and American bombers.  More than 1,700 had set their sights on the “city of antiquities” and, in the space of two hours, dropped more than 9,000 tons of bombs on the city’s center.  And like Tokyo (and other Japanese cities) would experience a few months down the road, the bombs created a maelstrom of fire and destruction that left the city a complete ruin.  In fact, there is no building in Dueren today that dates prior to 1945.

Peiper and his men were witness not only to the aftermath of the November 16 attack, but witnessed first-hand the attack on the 12th.  In his biography of Colonel Peiper, Patrick Agte wrote, “The widespread destruction, which lay before them, was worse than at the front. What was even worse was the feeling of powerlessness and helplessness, which came over them in the face of this catastrophe… Encouragement and orders were unnecessary. Everyone was filled with the desire to help and also filled with horror, sympathy and rage!…This isn’t war; it’s mass murder!”

The unarmed Americans slaughtered at Malmedy were victims of an offensive powered by desperation and fought by men seeking revenge…a very bad combination.

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European War Comes to America

Well, winter has come to Iowa with a gale.  Yesterday, it was 53°F and gorgeous.  Today, it’s about 15 with 45mph wind gusts, blowing snow, and super-icy streets.  I’m glad I got a good bike ride in yesterday…it’ll be a few days before I get another opportunity.

It’s a quickie this evening.

On December 11, 1941, Germany declared war on the United States.  But Germany didn’t necessarily have to do so.  The U.S. hadn’t declared war on Germany, nor had either country attacked the other.  And what’s more, though Germany and Japan had signed the Tripartite Pact the previous year, Germany was only obligated to come to Japan’s defense, not back her aggression against Pearl Harbor and the Pacific Rim.

Members of the German High Command also believed a declared war with America was dangerous ground.  It’s true that the U.S. was openly assisting Germany’s enemies through the Lend-Lease program, and German U-boats were clashing with the U.S. Navy in the Atlantic.  But this was a far cry from open war, where the full weight of America’s military potential would be brought to bear.

But Adolf Hitler made the declaration anyways.  With his successes to date, he believed in the might of his military and the ability of his country’s industries to fuel it.  He also believed in Japan’s ability to defeat America, even though some in Japan’s own leadership, particularly Isoroku Yamamoto, pretty much knew the score.  And he thought that America lacked the will to fight and that it would take some time for her to put her economy on a war footing…by which time Japan would have already knocked her from the conflict.

Adolf Hitler ended up being wrong on every point…

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Fighting at Tikhvin Gives Soviets Food for Thought

I’ve been away from the keyboard for a couple of days…not lost in the Bermuda Triangle or anything, but just busy with “life” kind of things.  I feel like the last couple months have been rather scatter-shot around here, but the good news is the calendar has lots of stuff coming up.  In fact, between now and the end of the year, only 3 days are blank in the spreadsheet.  We’ll see how I do…in the meantime…

As the bitter cold of 1941’s December descended, the picture was pretty bleak for Russian citizens.  Leningrad was basically surrounded while the German armies pounded the city and waited for its inhabitants to starve.  The spires of Moscow were in the sights of the Wehrmacht, and the encirclement of the capital was halted only by exhaustion, the need for fresh troops and supplies, and the afore-mentioned bitter cold.

And on the 5th, the Soviets struck hard, launching a massive counterattack aimed at relieving pressure on Moscow.  Simultaneously, Red Army forces struck around Leningrad, hoping the stop the strangulation of that city as well.  It was there that the Germans were trying to finish cutting off the eastern approaches to the city.  If that could be done, then even a frozen Lake Ladoga would be of no use to the Russians.

Russian troops made for Tikhvin, which was located little more than one hundred miles southeast of Leningrad and had been taken by the Germans in mid-November.  Two days later, Tikhvin was largely surrounded.  Hitler had promised to deliver 100 tanks and more than 20,000 troops, but what the Russians actually encountered were a half-dozen tanks and exhausted men that were freezing.  In the face of impossible odds and with 7,000 casualties already lost, German Field Marshal Ritter von Leeb was left with little choice but to abandon Tikhvin to the home country.  On December 9, 1941, Red Army forces recaptured the town.

If light of how precarious the overall situation was for Russia, it seems a rather insignificant victory…it’s one town.  But it also reopened a major railhead and reduced the road route to Lake Ladoga from nearly 200 miles to just 60.  Trucking supplies over the frozen lake had now moved from the realm of “near suicidal” to “feasible”.

For the time being, the victory saved Leningrad.  Dmitry Pavlov, Leningrad’s food chief, later wrote, “Without exaggeration, the defeat of the German Fascist forces at Tikhvin and the recapture of the northern railway line up to Mga station saved thousands of people from starvation.”

In his book Absolute War, Chris Bellamy writes, “More than that, the counteroffensive which retook the vital junction at Tikhvin on 9 December 1941 was the first major successful counteroffensive against the Wehrmacht by any combatant in the Second World War.”

The fight for Tikhvin displayed the first chink in the armor of German superiority, and that made the battle a big deal.

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The Bermuda Triangle: Not Stranger Than Fiction

In my opinion, there are topics that make good conversation starters at parties.  Asking a person what his or her interests are is good.  Maybe asking someone to describe a favorite vacation spot is also good.  Subjects that are non-controversial and non-goofy are usually preferred.

Talking about “Area 51” and the government coverup of alien visitations to Earth is probably less preferred.  Attempting to discuss Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster with a stranger will probably have him or her doing that thing where the eyebrows are raised a bit and the eyes drift a little up and to the left.  And talking about how the Earth is hollow will have your listener glancing at a watch and saying, “Well, look at the time…”.

Fortunately we’re not at a party, so I’m safe to at least mention one of them.

The Bermuda Triangle is a bunch of hooey.  There…I said it…and I’d say it again if I had to.  It does exist in a geographical sense.  To kind of place it, put a pencil on a map where the southern tip of Florida meets the water.  Then drag it northeast to the island of Bermuda.  Then go south to Puerto Rico and back northwest to your starting point at Florida.  That’s the Triangle and, since you can put it on a map, it’s real.

What isn’t real is all the “paranormal” activity that has supposedly occurred over the years.  People believe that an unusual number of ships and planes have disappeared there, most of them vanishing without a trace.  One of the more famous incidents took place on December 5, 1945.  Flight 19, a group of five Grumman TBM Avengers, took off on a navigational training flight from Fort Lauderdale, flew into the Triangle, and was never seen again.  And then a search plane sent out toward the flight’s last known position also disappeared.

These stories, among many others, have fueled lots of theories about aliens snatching planes from mid-air, residents of Atlantis pulling hapless ships below the surface, Amelia Earhart blinding pilots with her signal mirror, and who knows what else (I don’t know all the stories because I clearly haven’t attended enough parties).

But while I’m not a scientist, others that know more about it say that the numbers of ships and planes lost there, on a percentage basis, isn’t any greater than any other aqueous place.  The reports of the horizon becoming one with the water inside the Bermuda Triangle probably have some merit, but again, that’s probably possible outside the Triangle as well.

Anyways, you read the little bit about Flight 19, so you got what you needed for tonight.  And I’m kind of tied up with football and work as it is, so there you are.  Not very good I suppose, but maybe tomorrow we’ll discuss crop circles and ancient alien runways in South America.

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“Climb Mount Niitaka”

Niitakayama Nobore.

I don’t really know how to pronounce it properly, but the English translation is one of the more famous coded messages in American history…and the subject of this evening’s very brief lesson.

When Admiral Nagumo left Kyushu in late November of 1941, he did so with what was, at that time, the largest fleet (named the Kido Butai) in the world.  He also left with a bit of unfinished business.  The fleet was headed for a spot a couple of hundred miles northwest of Hawai’i, from where it would launch attacks against Pearl Harbor.  The actual attack orders comprised the unfinished business.

The Japanese government pretty much knew that it was going to war, but still held out a bit of hope that diplomacy would win the day.  The problem was that Japan wasn’t really interested in making any serious concessions, so “diplomacy” basically came down to the United States giving Japan whatever she wanted in the Pacific.  And that wasn’t going to happen.

So on December 2, 1941, the coded message, Niitakayama Nobore (“Climb Mount Niitaka“), arrived on Nagumo’s flagship.  The Admiral then opened a set of top secret documents which confirmed that Japan would be going to war with the United States, Britain, and Holland.  It also gave a date for the opening of hostilities…December 8th (the 7th on the Pearl Harbor side of the International Date Line).

The stage was set…unless the U.S. discovered Kido Butai, Pearl Harbor was squarely centered in the Japanese bullseye.

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