Twelve words fossilized in idioms

Monday, July 15th, 2013

Twelve words fossilized in idioms:

1. Wend
You rarely see a “wend” without a “way.” You can wend your way through a crowd or down a hill, but no one wends to bed or to school. However, there was a time when English speakers would wend to all kinds of places. “Wend” was just another word for “go” in Old English. The past tense of “wend” was “went” and the past tense of “go” was “gaed.” People used both until the 15th century, when “go” became the preferred verb, except in the past tense where “went” hung on, leaving us with an outrageously irregular verb.

2. Deserts
The “desert” from the phrase “just deserts” is not the dry and sandy kind, nor the sweet post-dinner kind. It comes from an Old French word for “deserve,” and it was used in English from the 13th century to mean “that which is deserved.” When you get your just deserts, you get your due. In some cases, that may mean you also get dessert, a word that comes from a later French borrowing.

3. Eke
If we see “eke” at all these days, it’s when we “eke out” a living, but it comes from an old verb meaning to add, supplement, or grow. It’s the same word that gave us “eke-name” for “additional name,” which later, through misanalysis of “an eke-name” became “nickname.”

4. Sleight
“Sleight of hand” is one tricky phrase. “Sleight” is often miswritten as “slight” and for good reason. Not only does the expression convey an image of light, nimble fingers, which fits well with the smallness implied by “slight,” but an alternate expression for the concept is “legerdemain,” from the French léger de main,” literally, “light of hand.” “Sleight” comes from a different source, a Middle English word meaning “cunning” or “trickery.” It’s a wily little word that lives up to its name.

5. Dint
“Dint” comes from the oldest of Old English where it originally referred to a blow struck with a sword or other weapon. It came to stand for the whole idea of subduing by force, and is now fossilized in our expression “by dint of X” where X can stand for your charisma, hard work, smarts, or anything you can use to accomplish something else.

6. Roughshod
Nowadays we see this word in the expression “to run/ride roughshod” over somebody or something, meaning to tyrannize or treat harshly. It came about as a way to describe the 17th century version of snow tires. A “rough-shod” horse had its shoes attached with protruding nail heads in order to get a better grip on slippery roads. It was great for keeping the horse on its feet, but not so great for anyone the horse might step on.

7. Fro
The “fro” in “to and fro” is a fossilized remnant of a Northern English or Scottish way of pronouncing “from.” It was also part of other expressions that didn’t stick around, like “fro and till,” “to do fro” (to remove), and “of or fro” (for or against).

8. Hue
The “hue” of “hue and cry,” the expression for the noisy clamor of a crowd, is not the same “hue” as the term we use for color. The color one comes from the Old English word híew, for “appearance.” This hue comes from the Old French hu or heu, which was basically an onomatopoeia, like “hoot.”

9. Kith
The “kith” part of “kith and kin” came from an Old English word referring to knowledge or acquaintance. It also stood for native land or country, the place you were most familiar with. The expression “kith and kin” originally meant your country and your family, but later came to have the wider sense of friends and family.

10. Lurch
When you leave someone “in the lurch,” you leave them in a jam, in a difficult position. But while getting left in the lurch may leave you staggering around and feeling off-balance, the “lurch” in this expression has a different origin than the staggery one. The balance-related lurch comes from nautical vocabulary, while the lurch you get left in comes from an old French backgammon-style game called lourche. Lurch became a general term for the situation of beating your opponent by a huge score. By extension it came to stand for the state of getting the better of someone or cheating them.

11. Umbrage
“Umbrage” comes from the Old French ombrage (shade, shadow), and it was once used to talk about actual shade from the sun. It took on various figurative meanings having to do with doubt and suspicion or the giving and taking of offense. To give umbrage was to offend someone, to “throw shade.” However, these days when we see the term “umbrage” at all, it is more likely to be because someone is taking, rather than giving it.

12. Shrift
We might not know what a shrift is anymore, but we know we don’t want to get a short one. “Shrift” was a word for a confession, something it seems we might want to keep short, or a penance imposed by a priest, something we would definitely want to keep short. But the phrase “short shrift” came from the practice of allowing a little time for the condemned to make a confession before being executed. So in that context, shorter was not better.

(Hat tip to David Foster.)

Dark Counsel from the Durants

Monday, July 15th, 2013

The third chapter of Will and Ariel Durant’s The Lessons of History offers some dark counsel on biology and history:

Early in the chapter, the Durants comment insightfully on the concept of group-level natural selection, a controversial topic even today:

[T]he laws of biology are the fundamental lessons of history. We are subject to the processes and trials of evolution, to the struggle for existence and the survival of the fittest to survive. If some of us seem to escape the strife or the trials it is because our group protects us; but that group itself must meet the tests of survival.

So the first biological lesson of history is that life is competition. Competition is not only the life of trade, it is the trade of life — peaceful when food abounds, violent when the mouths outrun the food. Animals eat one another without qualm; civilized men consume one another by due process of law. Co-operation is real, and increases with social development, but mostly because it is a tool and form of competition; we co-operate in our group — our family, community, club, church, party, “race”, or nation — in order to strengthen our group in its competition with other groups. Competing groups have the quality of competing individuals: acquisitiveness, pugnacity, partisanship, pride. Our states, being ourselves multiplied, are what we are; they write our natures in bolder type, and do our good and evil on an elephantine scale… War is a nation’s way of eating. It promotes co-operation because it is the ultimate form of competition.

A little further on, they address the awkward reality of human variation:

The second biological lesson of history is that life is selection. In the competition for food or mates or power some organisms succeed and some fail. In the struggle for existence some individuals are better equipped than others to meet the tests of survival. Since Nature (here meaning total reality and its processes) has not read very carefully the American Declaration of Independence or the the French Revolutionary Declaration of the Rights of Man, we are all born unfree and unequal; subject to our physical and psychological heredity, and to the customs and traditions of our group; diversely endowed in health and strength, in mental capacities and qualities of character. Nature loves difference as the necessary material of selection and evolution; identical twins differ in hundreds of ways, and no two peas are alike.

Inequality is not only natural and inborn, it grows with the complexity of civilization. Hereditary inequalities breed social and artificial inequalities; every invention or discovery is made or seized by the exceptional individual, and makes the strong stronger, the weak relatively weaker, than before. Economic development specializes functions, differentiates abilities, and makes men unequally valuable to their group. If we knew our fellow men thoroughly we could select thirty per cent of them whose combined ability would equal that of all the rest. Life and history do precisely that, with a sublime injustice reminiscent of Calvin’s God.

Nature smiles at the union of freedom and equality in our utopias. For freedom and equality are sworn and everlasting enemies, and when one prevails the other dies.Leave men free, and their natural inequalities will multiply almost geometrically, as in England and America in the nineteenth century under laissez-faire. To check the growth of inequality, liberty must be sacrificed, as in Russia after 1917. Even when repressed, inequality grows; only the man who is below the average in economic ability desires equality; those who are conscious of superior ability desire freedom; and in the end superior ability has its way. Utopias of equality are biologically doomed, and the best that the amiable philosopher can hope for is an approximate equality of legal justice and educational opportunity. A society in which all potential abilities are allowed to develop and function will have a survival advantage in the competition of groups. This competition becomes more severe as the destruction of distance intensifies the confrontation of states.

Strong stuff, this, and not the sort of thing you read much of, half a century later. I rather doubt (to put it mildly!) that publishers would be lining up to deliver this sort of frankness in 2013, but in 1965 the Durants were among the world’s pre-eminent public intellectuals.

(Hat tip to Nick B. Steves.)

Bocage

Monday, July 15th, 2013

In the hedgerows of northern France — the infamous bocage — American troops felt outgunned:

In the wake of a bloody engagement on 8 June against German paratroopers, Spencer called together his surviving officers to discuss what had taken place. One of their chief complaints centered on the relatively low number of automatic weapons in the infantry platoon. Whenever an American fired his M1 rifle, enemy paratroopers replied with a withering barrage from automatic weapons. In open terrain U.S. soldiers would have had a distinct advantage with their longer-ranged rifles, but the hedgerows frequently permitted German paratroopers armed with short-range automatic weapons to approach within yards of an American position without being detected.

After pondering the situation, Spencer asked the regiment’s logistics officer, Maj. William R. Hinsch, to procure Thompson .45-caliber submachine guns from antiaircraft units protecting Omaha beach. By the morning of 17 June the battalion’s soldiers had eighty-seven additional automatic weapons. Spencer observed that “no longer would our scouts have to go out with M1s or carbines to protect themselves… with these additional automatic weapons; we would [now] give even the German parachutists a run for their money.”

Eventually the US troops settled on a combined-arms approach to advancing on enemy positions:

The tank initiated the assault from behind its own hedgerow, firing white phosphorous rounds to destroy machine-gun positions located in the enemy-held hedgerow. Once this process was completed, the tank began suppressing other positions along the front line while the 60-mm. mortar saturated the area behind the German position with high explosives. Under the cover of this supporting fire, infantrymen moved forward to within ten to fifteen yards of their objective and began tossing grenades. This was the signal for the tank to reverse out of position to allow the engineers to place explosive charges at the base of the friendly hedgerow. As soon as the charges detonated, the tank passed through the gap and moved on line with the infantry for the final assault against
the enemy position.

American tankers improvised their own hedgerow cutters:

As Culin remarked in a postwar interview, “You’ll just have to call it a field expediency…. The Germans had constructed road blocks of halfinch angle iron and it seemed to me something could be done about using the stuff to prod into the hedgerows. We tried using them in various ways. Finally, we took four pieces, each about three feet long, had them welded to a plate and bolted the contrivance to the front shackles of a tank.”

War Song for the Army of the Rhine

Sunday, July 14th, 2013

Today is the day to sing the War Song for the Army of the Rhine:

On 25 April 1792, the mayor of Strasbourg requested his guest Rouget de Lisle compose a song “that will rally our soldiers from all over to defend their homeland that is under threat”.[1] That evening, Rouget de Lisle wrote Chant de guerre pour l’Armée du Rhin[2] and dedicated the song to Marshal Nicolas Luckner, a Bavarian in French service from Cham.[3] The melody soon became the rallying call to the French Revolution and was adopted as La Marseillaise after the melody was first sung on the streets by volunteers (fédérés in French) from Marseille by the end of May. These fédérés were making their entrance into the city of Paris on 30 July 1792 after a young volunteer from Montpellier called François Mireur had sung it at a patriotic gathering in Marseille, and the troops adopted it as the marching song of the National Guard of Marseille.[2] A newly graduated medical doctor, Mireur later became a general under Napoléon Bonaparte and died in Egypt at age 28.

The song’s lyrics reflect the invasion of France by foreign armies (from Prussia and Austria) that were underway when it was written. Strasbourg itself was attacked just a few days later. The invading forces were repulsed from France following their defeat in the Battle of Valmy.

The Convention accepted it as the French national anthem in a decree passed on 14 July 1795, making it France’s first anthem.[4] It later lost this status under Napoleon I, and the song was banned outright by Louis XVIII and Charles X, only being re-instated briefly after the July Revolution of 1830.[5] During Napoleon I’s reign, Veillons au Salut de l’Empire was the unofficial anthem of the regime, and in Napoleon III’s reign, it was Partant pour la Syrie. During the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, “La Marseillaise” was recognised as the anthem of the international revolutionary movement; as such, it was adopted by the Paris Commune in 1871. Eight years later, in 1879, it was restored as France’s national anthem, and has remained so ever since.

Only the first verse gets much play these days:

Allons enfants de la Patrie,
Children of the Fatherland, let’s go,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
The day of glory has arrived!
Contre nous de la tyrannie,
Tyranny is against us,
L’étendard sanglant est levé,
The bloody banner is raised,
L’étendard sanglant est levé !
The bloody banner is raised!
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes
In the countryside do you hear
Mugir ces féroces soldats ?
The roar of these ferocious soldiers?
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras
They come into your arms
Égorger vos fils, vos compagnes !
To kill your sons, your companions!

Aux armes, citoyens,
To arms, citizens,
Formez vos bataillons,
Form your battalions,
Marchons, marchons!
Let us march, let us march!
Qu’un sang impur
So that an impure blood
Abreuve nos sillons !
Will water our furrows!

A note on translation: we don’t have a good English word for égorger, which means to slit the throat [of] or, less literally, to butcher. La gorge is the throat.

Dr. Easy

Sunday, July 14th, 2013

I don’t know Matthew De Abaitua’s sci-fi novel The Red Men, but this short film, Dr. Easy, is based on it:

(Hat tip to Boing Boing.)

For Our Comrades

Sunday, July 14th, 2013

After the bazooka’s first successful demonstration, the new weapon went immediately into production — but not for our American troops:

A week later General Marshall and members of the Soviet and British military delegations witnessed a second demonstration held at Camp Simms in Washington D.C. The Soviets were so impressed that they asked Marshall to supply them with bazookas immediately even though the weapon was still being improved. Marshall issued verbal orders that 5,000 of the rocket launchers, along with necessary quantities of rockets and practice ammunition, be produced for lend-lease purposes within a month. The General Electric plant in Bridgeport, Connecticut, learned on 20 May that it had to build the weapons as soon as possible. The company completed the initial batch of bazookas by 24 June and shipped them to the Soviet Union shortly afterwards.

The M1 rocket launcher first saw action with US troops in November, 1942, in North Africa:

Both the rocket and the launcher had to undergo a number of improvements to make the combination a more potent weapon. In late 1943, the Army introduced the M9 version of the bazooka with a more powerful rocket — the M6A3. The Germans, based on their battle experience against Soviet tanks, were already fielding thicker and better-designed armor on new panzer models. To further counter shaped-charge warheads, they also devised additional measures that could be added to old and new tanks alike, including armored skirts that prematurely detonated incoming rockets. As a result, bazooka teams were forced to target less well-protected — and more difficult to hit — areas of enemy armored vehicles, such as tracks, suspension, or the rear engine compartment.

The Germans, who had captured copies of the early model bazooka in Russia, borrowed from Uhl’s and Skinner’s original design to produce their own 8.8-cm. rocket launcher. The German Panzerfaust — with a larger, more powerful warhead — had significantly greater armor penetration. The Americans, in turn, captured copies of the enemy rocket launcher and began designing a larger version of the M9, later designated the M20 Super Bazooka, in late 1944. However, the M20 did not see active service before World War II ended.

Frozen

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

Behold! The first-look trailer for Disney’s Frozen — which is loosely based on Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen:

Birth of the Bazooka

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

When German forces swept through Europe, the US Army realized it needed better anti-tank weapons. One successful weapon combined two cutting-edge innovations:

An Ordnance Department civilian, Gregory J. Kessenich, tipped off the rocket section to the potential of a new type of explosives technology perfected by Swiss engineer Henri H. Mohaupt. In late 1940 Mohaupt had offered the U.S. Army a shaped-charge projectile. The hollow cone molded into the front of the explosive charge focused much of the blast into a hot jet that could burn a hole through armor. Unlike existing antitank rounds, which depended on speed and mass to create the energy to penetrate, Mohaupt’s shaped charge would work even when it made contact with the target at a relatively slow speed. Thus the warhead could be fired from smaller less powerful weapons, making it perfect for use by foot soldiers.

The Ordnance Department had acquired and tested Mohaupt’s 30-mm. shaped-charge rifle grenade and found it capable of penetrating 2 inches of hardened steel. Work frantically began on a 60-mm. design after the Army received a report from the British that the Germans were increasing the thickness of the armor plate on their panzers to 4 inches. Standardized as the M10 grenade, the 60-mm. version was up to the new challenge, but it had gained a major flaw. The charge required to launch this heavier projectile a sufficient distance produced a great deal more recoil. Because the butt of the M1 Garand rifle had to be placed on the ground to gain elevation and range, the wooden stock absorbed the shock and often broke in the process.

In a search for something capable of launching the M10, the Army turned to a concept dubbed the spigot mortar. This notional weapon was basically a solid rod with a trigger mechanism located at the base. The projectile consisted of the shaped-charge grenade attached to a length of hollow tube that fit down over the mortar’s rod. Pressing the trigger activated a firing pin located at the tip of the rod, which in turn ignited a propellant charge in the base of the grenade. The expanding gasses from the burning propellant thrust the projectile off the rod, with the tube imparting initial guidance. Similar to a traditional mortar, the recoil would be absorbed into the ground on which the weapon rested.

The advantages of the spigot mortar were several. It was small, light, easy to operate, simple to manufacture, and cheap. While the first three factors made it attractive to an infantryman, all of them were important to ordnance designers given that the Army wanted to field large numbers of the man-portable antitank system in a very short period of time. The only obvious drawback to the system was its relatively short range. The Ordnance Department asked several private firms to each develop a working spigot mortar capable of firing the 60-mm. shaped-charge grenade. The Army planned to test the prototypes in a competitive shoot off at Aberdeen in early summer 1942.

While others sought ways to effectively employ the 60-mm. grenade, Uhl focused on marrying the round to a rocket that would get it to the target. By February 1942 he had successfully assembled a prototype antitank rocket by adding propellant, a gas trap, an igniter, and stabilizing fins to an inert M10 grenade. Firing tests conducted at the end of the dock that projected into the Potomac revealed that the new design had the desired range and ballistic properties. The next step was to construct a portable launcher. The main component came from an unexpected source. While rummaging through the scrap pile behind his workshop, Uhl came upon a 5-foot length of metal pipe that proved just wide enough to accept a 60-mm. round. Upon inspecting Uhl’s discovery, Skinner remarked that he had a spare rifle stock at home that could be fitted to the underside of the tube. He also suggested Uhl add a pair of grips to make it even easier to handle. The pair decided to use a trigger-activated electric igniter that sent a charge through a wire to the base of the rocket. Once these features were added to the design, all that remained was to conduct a live-fire test to see if everything worked.

Uhl received the mission to fire the first rocket. Wearing a welder’s mask and gloves, he walked to the end of the pier. A small group of observers, including Skinner and Hickman, watched from the shore. After ensuring no watercraft were nearby, Uhl pointed the tube toward the middle of the river and pressed the trigger. When it fired, he heard only a whooshing noise and felt absolutely no recoil. He discovered that the rocket did not generate enough exhaust to justify wearing any protective equipment.

Bazooka Prototype

Based on this success, Uhl assembled enough inert rockets to conduct more extensive testing. Skinner decided that the combination of rocket and launcher should be tested at Aberdeen during the spigot mortar shoot off in May. On the morning of the scheduled test, Uhl and Skinner arrived at the range before anyone else. Spotting a tank in the impact area, Uhl walked over to talk to the driver who confirmed that his vehicle was indeed the target for the pending competition. The soldier also explained that he was to navigate a specific course, which he pointed out to Uhl, and that he was to do so at a speed of twenty-five miles per hour. Uhl paced off the distance back to the firing line. After scribbling some figures down on a matchbook, he concluded he had to aim one tank length in front of the vehicle and slightly above the top of the turret to obtain a hit on a moving target at that range.

The crews of the spigot mortars arrived and began assembling their weapons. Uhl and Skinner occupied a sixth firing point about fifty yards to one side. A group from Army Ground Forces headquarters, headed by a lieutenant general, appeared soon afterwards. The officers were accompanied by Brig. Gen. Gladeon M. Barnes, head of the Ordnance Department Research and Development Section. The test began with a signal from Barnes to the tank crew. As the vehicle moved back and forth, the spigot mortars took turns firing dummy rounds at the target. It quickly became apparent that the high trajectory of the projectiles — required for maximizing range, given the low propellant charge — made the weapon highly inaccurate, especially against a moving target. Each mortar missed when its turn came, producing audible groans from onlookers.

Just before the competition began, Uhl and Skinner had realized their rocket launcher lacked a sighting mechanism. Uhl extracted a wire coat hangar and pliers from the trunk of his automobile. The young lieutenant constructed a front sight, featuring an upright blade, and a circular rear sight, in which the firer centered the front blade. Using a telephone pole as a reference point, Skinner looked down the length of the empty firing tube to ensure it remained centered on the pole as Uhl bent two sections of a coat hanger around the tube. This final modification to the launcher was completed before the spigot mortars had finished firing.

After the fifth prototype missed, Uhl took aim at the moving tank and pulled the trigger. A rocket whooshed downrange to score a direct hit. The officers sitting on the bleachers cheered and threw their hats in the air. The Army Ground Forces three-star approached Skinner to ask if he could test fire the launcher. Uhl relinquished it to the general, explaining the trigger mechanism and sighting procedures as the senior officer prepared to fire at the tank. The general scored a direct hit. Barnes now took a turn and was also successful. Others test fired the weapon with only one rocket missing the target.

When all the projectiles were expended, Barnes stepped forward once more to closely examine the launch tube. He casually remarked to Skinner: “This sure looks just like Bob Burns’ bazooka.” Burns was a famous radio comedian whose publicity photos often depicted him playing a cobbled-together musical instrument he called “The Bazooka.” Although the Army would formally designate the weapon the 2.36-inch rocket launcher M1, the nickname coined by Barnes would stick.

Marines’ Fuel Consumption

Friday, July 12th, 2013

The Marines use a staggering amount of fuel in Afghanistan, which has to be trucked in, across dangerous territory:

The scale of the undertaking is staggering: 260,000 gallons of fuel carried by 54 fuel trucks per day at an average of $8.37 per gallon, according to Newell. The bill for taxpayers: $794 million.

So, why would Marines need that much fuel?

Approximately 60% of the fuel is burned to provide climate control for Marines and equipment deployed at some 300 sites across Afghanistan.

That points to some rather obvious solutions.

Marine Corps PV Panels and Canvas Tents

Clearly, if you have men housed in canvas tents in a desert, the answer is… to run the generators more efficiently:

So much fuel is needed because, until very recently, all of the Marines’ stationary battlefield energy demand (climate control, laptops, and radios) was met using JP-8-fueled electrical generators. Though relatively reliable, such a system is woefully inefficient. Newell explained that Marines who handle utility services are taught to match the peak load to an 80% load on the generator – if the maximum load is 8 kilowatts, it calls for a 10 kilowatt generator. “I’m in the middle of nowhere; I can’t go without power,” he said.

The problem with a system designed to meet the peak load is straightforward – outside of winter, when demand peaks because of the heating load, the generators are not operating optimally. The median demand in the field, Newell said, is about 32% of the capacity of the generator. This leads to “wet stacking,” where unburned fuel ends up in the exhaust system. Run the generator this way for long and maintenance goes up, the life of the system goes down, and fuel is wasted.

Well, there’s some talk of better-insulated housing:

Newell’s unit, the Expeditionary Energy Office, has turned to energy efficiency and renewable alternatives to drive down energy demand. They recently added a thermal liner to the canvas tents that shelter Marines in Afghanistan, for instance, increasing the R-value from 1.5 to 4.

R-value doesn’t seem like the right metric.

Anyway, rather than digging in, or using a passive-solar design pattern, or whatever, they add solar panels and batteries:

When Newell deployed to Afghanistan last summer, he brought a hybrid system with him. The system performed well, he said, but because it used heavy, bulky lead-acid batteries, it won’t be the permanent solution. “We know that lead-acid could never meet our needs. When weight is a factor for me and space is a factor for me, I couldn’t even consider lead-acid,” he said.

Even this non-optimal energy storage solution proved its worth. Partner energy storage with a generator, Newell said, and “I can ensure that anytime that generator is on, it’s running at 80% to 100% load. My fuel efficiency went up, my hours went down. I have more quiet hours.” The Marines are transitioning to lithium-ion batteries. Newell noted that, for the first time, Marines had recently deployed lithium-ion batteries on the battlefield as part of a hybrid system with solar panels. “We’re very happy about where that’s at, but we’re also trying to advance it further,” he said.

Atlas Human-Powered Helicopter

Friday, July 12th, 2013

The Atlas human-powered helicopter presents an almost surreal image:

Tank Destroyers

Friday, July 12th, 2013

When the Panzer-led German Blitzkrieg sliced through Polish and then French forces, the US Army realized it needed better anti-tank weapons and tactics, so it produced a tank destroyer force — a new combat arm within the Army’s ground forces, coequal with infantry, artillery, and armor — with its own manual — Field Manual (FM) 18–5, Tank Destroyer Field Manual: Organization and Tactics of Tank Destroyer Units:

Encouraged by Marshall and McNair, Bruce infused the doctrine with an aggressive, offensive spirit, as characterized by the term tank destroyer and by the motto “Seek, Strike, and Destroy.” The hallmarks of this doctrine were mobility and firepower. Assuming that the main threat would be masses of light tanks operating at top speed, FM 18–5 posited that tank destroyers would use superior mobility to hem in the marauding tanks, maneuver against their flanks, and employ superior firepower to destroy them. In Bruce’s mind, tank destroyer operations assumed the character of the counterattack rather than passive defense.

That’s not quite how things played out in North Africa:

It came as something of a shock when panzer divisions behaved differently than the enemy described in FM 18–5. Rather than masses of light tanks operating at top speed, the panzer divisions in Tunisia employed sophisticated combined arms teams, characterized by artillery and infantry operating in close support of the tanks, and deadly antitank fire coming from hidden overwatch positions. For the lightly armored tank destroyers, slugging it out with German tanks in the open was suicidal. It quickly emerged that the best way to meet attacking German tanks was from concealed dug-in positions — a far cry from Seek, Strike, and Destroy. This fact also doomed the idea of tank destroyers being held back in reserve, to race fire-brigade style to the scene of a German attack. If the antitank units were not on hand when the attack began, they would have to join the battle in progress and possibly have to fight exposed from a position of weakness. In any case, they were unlikely to arrive in time to retrieve the situation given the tempo of combat embodied in blitzkrieg.

Equally important, tank destroyers in North Africa operated under a handicap in regard to their equipment. Expedient weapons intended solely for training ended up fighting real panzers. The M3 Gun Motor Carriage, a 75-mm. gun mounted on a halftrack, had neither superior mobility nor firepower when confronting Axis armor. The M6, an obsolete 37-mm. antitank gun mounted on a ¾-ton truck, was hopeless. The best expedient was the M10, a 3-inch gun mounted in a fully rotating open-topped turret on the chassis of an M4 Sherman tank.

Finally, the tank destroyers in North Africa discovered that the rest of the Army was largely ignorant of their doctrine, if not downright hostile to the concept they embodied.

Every innovation is a gamble.

(Hat tip to Jonathan Jeckell.)

Why Does the Lack of Traffic Rules Work in England, but Not in Haiti?

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

There are numerous examples of small European towns that have done away with signal lights and traffic signs and now traffic flows better, transit times have decreased, and roadways have became less dangerous for pedestrians and vehicle passengers alike:

The absence of conventional rules improved outcomes.

The concept of a “shared space” — an area without traditional traffic signs, signals, or regulations that’s intended to be used by both cars and pedestrians — underpins many such traffic reforms. Humans don’t normally need formal rules to figure out how to navigate a crowded sidewalk, the logic goes, and isn’t everyone driving a car really just a pedestrian wrapped in a 3,000-pound potentially-lethal steel box? Backers of the Poynton intersection project near Manchester, England, note that “pedestrians in the shared-space scenario, when there are no lights to dictate behavior, are seen as fellow road-users rather than obstacles in the way of the next light.”

One of the first and staunchest shared-space evangelists was, obviously, Dutch. Hans Monderman “recognised that increasing control and regulation by the state reduced individual and collective responsibility,” The Guardian noted in its 2008 obituary, “and he initiated a fresh understanding of the relationship between streets, traffic and civility.” I have no clue whether Monderman traveled to Haiti during his time on earth, but I’d bet good money that he never sat in a Port-au-Prince traffic jam.

So, why does the lack of traffic rules work in England, but not in Haiti?

In Haiti, there is no meaningful enforcement of any set of traffic rules. Virtually all road space could be called “shared” — pedestrians, motorcycles, and four-wheel vehicles use the same space everywhere; only the largest intersections have traffic lights; there are no crosswalks and almost no stop signs. Instead of following a rulebook, drivers rely on local, informal norms.

Traffic in Port-au-Prince is horrifying. People do not yield to each other and spontaneously fall into an efficient order, as in England’s Poynton. In Haitian transit, people approach shared space as if they’re homesteaders on an Oklahoma land run. It’s every-man-for-himself, where every man is trying to grab every centimeter of available road space before someone else does. Instead of a free-flowing circle, a roundabout becomes an immobile tangle of tap-taps, traffic jams radiating in all directions.

There is a clear set of norms that people follow, it’s just that the norms are awful. They lead to anything but convenient transit times and low levels of accidents, and they make driving in the country much more dangerous than it could be.

One maxim seems to govern all else when it comes to traffic in Haiti: might is right. Semi-trucks and buses rule, SUVs and cars come next, and none of the above respect the thousands of motorcycles zipping along Haitian roads. At the bottom of the traffic hierarchy in Haiti are pedestrians, who play human Frogger every time they cross the street.

It’s completely normal — and pretty much expected — for cars to pull out in front of moving traffic, for vehicles to pull a U-turn wherever and whenever they please, and for drivers to ignore their surroundings in a way that would make someone who learned to drive in the United States have a mild heart attack upon riding away from the airport for the first time. The day-long gridlock is so awful and so regular that a song called Blokis — traffic jam — recently became the biggest hit on Haitian radio.

Air Observation Posts

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

Arguments over the organizational ownership of air observers going into World War II dated back to the previous war:

The artillery had taken the position that its own officers should serve in this role. When not in the air they would be with their regiment and thus up to date on the location of friendly and enemy forces and the ground commander’s scheme of maneuver. Aviators took the stance that any individual assigned to man an aircraft in any capacity had to be trained by and belong to the aviation force. The latter view prevailed in the War Department and persisted as settled policy until 1942 despite the efforts of senior artillerymen to reverse it.

The two branches also had more fundamental disagreements regarding overall warfighting doctrine. In seeking to more effectively integrate its operations with the infantry, the field artillery was pursuing a combined arms approach. Only by knitting together the efforts of all the arms, argued proponents, could the Army achieve victory, because the combat power generated by the integrated whole was greater than the sum produced by its various parts. The Air Corps, on the other hand, was seeking to distance itself from the remainder of the Army. Many air power advocates asserted that long-range bombardment, operating independently of ground forces, could deliver a knockout blow against government centers and industry, thus making it impossible for an opponent to continue the war. Centralized control of air assets under the command of an experienced aviation officer would permit their efficient employment against these strategic targets. Parceling out aircraft to support ground force commanders, as was common in World War I, would merely divert precious resources from the main aerial campaign. In this intellectual environment, aviation officers devoted their energy and enthusiasm to bombardment, and observation became a backwater.

Technological development created a third discontinuity between the aviation and artillery communities. By 1938 the Air Corps was well along in the transition from biplanes to high-speed monoplanes. Since observation aircraft needed to carry an observer and a heavy camera in addition to a pilot and machine guns, they were at a competitive disadvantage against single-seat fighter aircraft. In World War I the latter type had enjoyed a speed advantage of 10–20 miles per hour over observation craft. By the late 1930s the disparity was almost 100 miles per hour. If there was one lesson that aviators drew from World War I, it was that speed saved their lives. The new chief of the Air Corps, Maj. Gen. Henry H. Arnold, frankly doubted whether modern observation planes could survive over the battlefield. In 1939 he substituted light bombers in place of observation craft for long-range reconnaissance, and later he proposed using heavier bombers in this role. Arnold and many of his subordinates, however, were still thinking of the ground battle in terms of the slow tempo of 1918, for which preplanned fires based on aerial photographs would suffice. The combination of long-range reconnaissance relying on aerial photography also conveniently fit with the Air Corps’ doctrinal interest in the fixed targets of a strategic bombing campaign. Artillerymen, on the other hand, believed that modern combat required an observer who could identify targets and control tactical fire while he was in the air.

Artillery officers also were dissatisfied with available observation aircraft for a different but related reason. They wanted a rugged plane that could operate out of forward locations, which would facilitate cooperation with the firing battalions, provide longer loiter time over the front, and decrease the significance of an aircraft’s maximum range. In addition, from an artillery point of view, a slower plane was much more conducive to scrutinizing activity on the ground. The Air Corps emphasis on acquiring the fastest and most capable aircraft worked at cross purposes. The resulting observation planes were large, heavy, complicated machines that required sophisticated maintenance and a well-developed airfield, characteristics that mandated they be based well to the rear.

So, the artillery units finally got their L-4 light aircraft and lived happily ever after:

On 9 November 1942 three L–4s took off from the aircraft carrier Ranger to support the invasion of North Africa. Friendly fire caused the first to crash on the beach, while enemy antiaircraft fire brought down the second. The third plane reached its destination, an improvised landing field at a racetrack, but when the pilot took off on an observation mission, more friendly fire forced him to return. The Army had rushed the aircraft into the invasion force without the opportunity to train with the ground troops, who were prone to shoot first at any strange plane that might be a threat. Over the next several months intensive air-ground training solved that problem, but the next commitment of air observation posts to combat in southern Tunisia produced an even more disturbing result. During the entire campaign, artillery battalions conducted only one observed-fire mission using an L–4. Soldiers on the ground understood the reasons. The terrain—isolated hills rising from a flat plain—was ideal for ground observers, while the pop-up tactics taught at Fort Sill proved singularly unsuited in these circumstances. Only the forceful support of McCloy prevented the termination of the program at this point.

OK, after some reforms — they junked pop-up tactics in favor of extended aerial patrols — the program proved invaluable.

Korean Pilots

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

This warning about Korean pilots has been making the rounds:

After I retired from UAL as a Standards Captain on the ’400, I got a job as a simulator instructor working for Alteon (a Boeing subsidiary) at Asiana. When I first got there, I was shocked and surprised by the lack of basic piloting skills shown by most of the pilots. It is not a normal situation with normal progression from new hire, right seat, left seat taking a decade or two. One big difference is that ex-Military pilots are given super-seniority and progress to the left seat much faster. Compared to the US, they also upgrade fairly rapidly because of the phenomenal growth by all Asian air carriers. By the way, after about six months at Asiana, I was moved over to KAL and found them to be identical. The only difference was the color of the uniforms and airplanes. I worked in Korea for 5 long years and although I found most of the people to be very pleasant, it’s a minefield of a work environment… for them and for us expats.

One of the first things I learned was that the pilots kept a web-site and reported on every training session. I don’t think this was officially sanctioned by the company, but after one or two simulator periods, a database was building on me (and everyone else) that told them exactly how I ran the sessions, what to expect on checks, and what to look out for. For example; I used to open an aft cargo door at 100 knots to get them to initiate an RTO and I would brief them on it during the briefing. This was on the B-737 NG and many of the captains were coming off the 777 or B744 and they were used to the Master Caution System being inhibited at 80 kts. Well, for the first few days after I started that, EVERYONE rejected the takeoff. Then, all of a sudden they all “got it” and continued the takeoff (in accordance with their manuals). The word had gotten out. I figured it was an overall PLUS for the training program.

We expat instructors were forced upon them after the amount of fatal accidents (most of the them totally avoidable) over a decade began to be noticed by the outside world. They were basically given an ultimatum by the FAA, Transport Canada, and the EU to totally rebuild and rethink their training program or face being banned from the skies all over the world. They hired Boeing and Airbus to staff the training centers. KAL has one center and Asiana has another. When I was there (2003-2008) we had about 60 expats conducting training KAL and about 40 at Asiana. Most instructors were from the USA, Canada, Australia, or New Zealand with a few stuffed in from Europe and Asia. Boeing also operated training centers in Singapore and China so they did hire some instructors from there.

This solution has only been partially successful but still faces ingrained resistance from the Koreans. I lost track of the number of highly qualified instructors I worked with who were fired because they tried to enforce “normal” standards of performance. By normal standards, I would include being able to master basic tasks like successfully shoot a visual approach with 10 kt crosswind and the weather CAVOK. I am not kidding when I tell you that requiring them to shoot a visual approach struck fear in their hearts… with good reason. Like this Asiana crew, it didn’t compute that you needed to be a 1000′ AGL at 3 miles and your sink rate should be 600-800 Ft/Min. But, after 5 years, they finally nailed me. I still had to sign my name to their training and sometimes if I just couldn’t pass someone on a check, I had no choice but to fail them. I usually busted about 3-5 crews a year and the resistance against me built. I finally failed an extremely incompetent crew and it turned out he was the a high-ranking captain who was the Chief Line Check pilot on the fleet I was teaching on. I found out on my next monthly trip home that KAL was not going to renew my Visa. The crew I failed was given another check and continued a fly while talking about how unfair Captain Brown was.

Any of you Boeing glass-cockpit guys will know what I mean when I describe these events. I gave them a VOR approach with an 15 mile arc from the IAF. By the way, KAL dictated the profiles for all sessions and we just administered them. He requested two turns in holding at the IAF to get set up for the approach. When he finally got his nerve up, he requested “Radar Vectors” to final. He could have just said he was ready for the approach and I would have cleared him to the IAF and then “Cleared for the approach” and he could have selected “Exit Hold” and been on his way. He was already in LNAV/VNAV PATH. So, I gave him vectors to final with a 30 degree intercept. Of course, he failed to “Extend the FAF” and he couldn’t understand why it would not intercept the LNAV magenta line when he punched LNAV and VNAV. He made three approaches and missed approaches before he figured out that his active waypoint was “Hold at XYZ”. Every time he punched LNAV, it would try to go back to the IAF… just like it was supposed to do. Since it was a check, I was not allowed (by their own rules) to offer him any help. That was just one of about half dozen major errors I documented in his UNSAT paperwork. He also failed to put in ANY aileron on takeoff with a 30-knot direct crosswind (again, the weather was dictated by KAL).

This Asiana SFO accident makes me sick and while I am surprised there are not more, I expect that there will be many more of the same type accidents in the future unless some drastic steps are taken. They are already required to hire a certain percentage of expats to try to ingrain more flying expertise in them, but more likely, they will eventually be fired too. One of the best trainees I ever had was a Korean-American (he grew up and went to school in the USA) who flew C-141′s in the USAF. When he got out, he moved back to Korea and got hired by KAL. I met him when I gave him some training and a check on the B-737 and of course, he breezed through the training. I give him annual PCs for a few years and he was always a good pilot. Then, he got involved with trying to start a pilots union and when they tried to enforce some sort of duty rigs on international flights, he was fired after being arrested and JAILED!

The Koreans are very very bright and smart so I was puzzled by their inability to fly an airplane well. They would show up on Day 1 of training (an hour before the scheduled briefing time, in a 3-piece suit, and shined shoes) with the entire contents of the FCOM and Flight Manual totally memorized. But, putting that information to actual use was many times impossible. Crosswind landings are also an unsolvable puzzle for most of them. I never did figure it out completely, but I think I did uncover a few clues. Here is my best guess. First off, their educational system emphasizes ROTE memorization from the first day of school as little kids. As you know, that is the lowest form of learning and they act like robots. They are also taught to NEVER challenge authority and in spite of the flight training heavily emphasizing CRM/CLR, it still exists either on the surface or very subtly. You just can’t change 3000 years of culture.

The other thing that I think plays an important role is the fact that there is virtually NO civil aircraft flying in Korea. It’s actually illegal to own a Cessna-152 and just go learn to fly. Ultra-lights and Powered Hang Gliders are Ok. I guess they don’t trust the people to not start WW III by flying 35 miles north of Inchon into North Korea. But, they don’t get the kids who grew up flying (and thinking for themselves) and hanging around airports. They do recruit some kids from college and send then to the US or Australia and get them their tickets. Generally, I had better experience with them than with the ex-Military pilots. This was a surprise to me as I spent years as a Naval Aviator flying fighters after getting my private in light airplanes. I would get experienced F-4, F-5, F-15, and F-16 pilots who were actually terrible pilots if they had to hand fly the airplane. What a shock!

Finally, I’ll get off my box and talk about the total flight hours they claim. I do accept that there are a few talented and free-thinking pilots that I met and trained in Korea. Some are still in contact and I consider them friends. They were a joy! But, they were few and far between and certainly not the norm.

Actually, this is a worldwide problem involving automation and the auto-flight concept. Take one of these new first officers that got his ratings in the US or Australia and came to KAL or Asiana with 225 flight hours. After takeoff, in accordance with their SOP, he calls for the autopilot to be engaged at 250′ after takeoff. How much actual flight time is that? Hardly one minute. Then he might fly for hours on the autopilot and finally disengage it (MAYBE?) below 800′ after the gear was down, flaps extended and on airspeed (autothrottle). Then he might bring it in to land. Again, how much real “flight time” or real experience did he get. Minutes! Of course, on the 777 or 747, it’s the same only they get more inflated logbooks.

So, when I hear that a 10,000 hour Korean captain was vectored in for a 17-mile final and cleared for a visual approach in CAVOK weather, it raises the hair on the back of my neck.

(Hat tip à mon père.)

Think Inside the Box

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

Think inside the box, Drew Boyd and Jacob Goldenberg recommend — although I’m not sure that really characterizes their suggestions:

  • Remove seemingly essential elements.
  • Bring together unrelated tasks or functions.
  • Copy a component and then alter it.
  • Separate the components of a product or service and rearrange them.
  • Make the attributes of a product change in response to changes in another attribute or in the surrounding environment.