From: K0HB on Jan 3, 8:30 am


Saw this in another time-space continuum. It has absolutely nothing
to do with Amateur Radio, but struck a chord.


The Flap Flap of Signal Flags

by Cole Evans Squier


I saw a piece in Signal magazine awhile ago. It said that the
United States Army Signal Corps had ceased to teach Morse Code.
With all the super techno-whizbang communication equipment around
these days such as "radio", I guess 'lefts' and 'rights' of
signal flags are looked upon as primitive communication.

That's a damn pity because there is no more comforting sound
than the rythmic flap, flap, flap of signal flags in a light
breeze. Watching a competent signalman operate signal flags, to
me beats watching a concert violinist or an Olympic medal-
winning ice skater.

There was something about nighttime signaling, using torches
instead of the flags, across the open expanse of the battlefield.
The signalman and the gentle whoosh whoosh of lit signal torches.

"Sir, that's the 21st Brigade of the First Cav!"

"Very well. Ask them if LT Bill Lumberstream is there. I went
to the Point with Big Bill."

"Yes sir."

"Yessir, he's there. Major now."

"Very well. Tell them to relay my compliments and tell Big
Bill that 'Tall Tales' has the commo officer duty over here."

Little messages exchanged in darkness. Communication between
members of America's great land warrior family. Those fingers of
light always made me feel that I was a part of a big organization.

Things that were so much a part of our life, have gone out of
existence in the ensuing years. They tell me that mounted cavalrymen
are the lost ratings of yesteryear. I know nothing lasts forever
and that there's nothing worse to subsequent generations than an
old ******* reliving cherished memories of the past. But with the
Army looking to boost its recruiting, it might be beneficial to
revisit some of the things that were so meaningful to the grunts
who manned our lines long ago.

Tradition is a valuable asset. Not that to honor tradition, you
have to set aside technological advance. Not at all. But many
of the 'soldier skills' are being discounted. Consider this.
In battle, when you lose power and your computer-generated mo-jo
is lost, or your batteries run out. Or the enemy RDFs on that
new-fangled radio and pin-points your position. Will there be
anyone who can find their position with just a map and compass?

What happens if the bad guys find a way to negate satellite
positioning? What happens to the poor *******s bobbing around
in an assault boat with a signalman and an operating flashlight?

How can you call a man an American soldier who can't tie a
granny knot or read flags? At some point, you stop being a
grunt and become a technician. That's a sad fact, but a
fact, nonetheless.

The Army used to sell action adventure. It used to fill its
recruiting offices with posters of smiling soldiers visiting
exotic countries. Extolling the qualities found in an elite
service like Special Forces. Now you see posters promising
monetary incentives, education benefits and pledges of high-level
technical training. It is not an 'Army of One' Army, anymore.
It's a 'What's in it for me?' Army. You can see the effect on
the armored forces. Interchangeable crews. That's like a
shared bride.

Somebody needs to reinitiate the concept of 'a lad and his
track'. I see armor crews with the names of a dozen tracks
stenciled on their flak vests. How can a lad develop love and
loyalty to twelve tanks? Simple answer. He can't.

We need to figure out some way of reconnecting men with the
land. We need to develop, to reestablish the relationship
between soldiers and their units.

But, as I said earlier, there's nothing worse than a nostalgic
old coot who's out of step with the march of time. An old
sonuvabitch whose era has come and gone.

But you can't fault a man who loved his service. The men.
His mess hall. His unit. An old ******* who can still hear
the gentle flap, flap, flap of the signal flags on a hilltop.

From: K0HB on Jan 3, 8:30 am


Saw this in another time-space continuum. It has absolutely nothing
to do with Amateur Radio, but struck a chord.


The Flap Flap of Signal Flags

by Cole Evans Squier


I saw a piece in Signal magazine awhile ago. It said that the
United States Army Signal Corps had ceased to teach Morse Code.
With all the super techno-whizbang communication equipment around
these days such as "radio", I guess 'lefts' and 'rights' of
signal flags are looked upon as primitive communication.

That's a damn pity because there is no more comforting sound
than the rythmic flap, flap, flap of signal flags in a light
breeze. Watching a competent signalman operate signal flags, to
me beats watching a concert violinist or an Olympic medal-
winning ice skater.

There was something about nighttime signaling, using torches
instead of the flags, across the open expanse of the battlefield.
The signalman and the gentle whoosh whoosh of lit signal torches.

"Sir, that's the 21st Brigade of the First Cav!"

"Very well. Ask them if LT Bill Lumberstream is there. I went
to the Point with Big Bill."

"Yes sir."

"Yessir, he's there. Major now."

"Very well. Tell them to relay my compliments and tell Big
Bill that 'Tall Tales' has the commo officer duty over here."

Little messages exchanged in darkness. Communication between
members of America's great land warrior family. Those fingers of
light always made me feel that I was a part of a big organization.

Things that were so much a part of our life, have gone out of
existence in the ensuing years. They tell me that mounted cavalrymen
are the lost ratings of yesteryear. I know nothing lasts forever
and that there's nothing worse to subsequent generations than an
old ******* reliving cherished memories of the past. But with the
Army looking to boost its recruiting, it might be beneficial to
revisit some of the things that were so meaningful to the grunts
who manned our lines long ago.

Tradition is a valuable asset. Not that to honor tradition, you
have to set aside technological advance. Not at all. But many
of the 'soldier skills' are being discounted. Consider this.
In battle, when you lose power and your computer-generated mo-jo
is lost, or your batteries run out. Or the enemy RDFs on that
new-fangled radio and pin-points your position. Will there be
anyone who can find their position with just a map and compass?

What happens if the bad guys find a way to negate satellite
positioning? What happens to the poor *******s bobbing around
in an assault boat with a signalman and an operating flashlight?

How can you call a man an American soldier who can't tie a
granny knot or read flags? At some point, you stop being a
grunt and become a technician. That's a sad fact, but a
fact, nonetheless.

The Army used to sell action adventure. It used to fill its
recruiting offices with posters of smiling soldiers visiting
exotic countries. Extolling the qualities found in an elite
service like Special Forces. Now you see posters promising
monetary incentives, education benefits and pledges of high-level
technical training. It is not an 'Army of One' Army, anymore.
It's a 'What's in it for me?' Army. You can see the effect on
the armored forces. Interchangeable crews. That's like a
shared bride.

Somebody needs to reinitiate the concept of 'a lad and his
track'. I see armor crews with the names of a dozen tracks
stenciled on their flak vests. How can a lad develop love and
loyalty to twelve tanks? Simple answer. He can't.

We need to figure out some way of reconnecting men with the
land. We need to develop, to reestablish the relationship
between soldiers and their units.

But, as I said earlier, there's nothing worse than a nostalgic
old coot who's out of step with the march of time. An old
sonuvabitch whose era has come and gone.

But you can't fault a man who loved his service. The men.
His mess hall. His unit. An old ******* who can still hear the
gentle flap, flap, flap of the signal flags on a hilltop.