Glibertarians.com 2018 Archive

Category: Military

  • A History of The Six-gun, Part Two

    A History of The Six-gun, Part Two

    Colt Modernizes – Cap and Ball Colts

    The Walker Colt

    A well-known fan of the Walker.

    In 1846, Sam Colt found a young man from Texas knocking at his door.  That young man, Captain Samuel Walker, was on a mission; he wanted Sam Colt to return to the business of making revolvers.

    At this time Colonel Colt was engaged, as noted in Part 1, in manufacturing underwater electrical cable, tinfoil and marine mines.  Captain Walker wanted revolvers for the new-born Republic of Texas, but he didn’t want a rebirth of the .36 caliber Paterson.  He wanted a big, heavy, powerful revolver; a revolver for horsemen.  He wanted a dragoon pistol.

    Sam Colt was apparently interested, because he sat down to create Captain Walker’s desires in steel.  The result of this process was the sidearm that first defined the form of the modern sixgun.  The 1847 Colt Walker held six loads rather than five, and the big cylinder, while described as a .44, was actually a .45, taking a .457 round or conical ball over as much as 60 grains of FFFG black powder.  The gun further had a hinged, attached rammer for reloading and a fixed trigger and trigger guard.  This was not only the first modern-form sixgun but also the first magnum revolver, as the big cylinder and the heavy .457 ball packed quite a wallop.

    A few years back I had the pleasure of firing a replica Walker.  It was an interesting piece to handle, but sure as hell not a quick-draw piece.  The Walker Colt is long, heavy and cumbersome, but it’s important to remember what the Walker was designed for; it is a dragoon pistol.  It was designed for horsemen, to be carried my mounted riflemen (dragoons.)  Some Walkers as well as the later dragoon models were adapted to be fitted with shoulder stocks but making the revolver a carbine presents the same problem that led to the demise of revolving rifles in general; the cylinder gap has a distinct tendency to vent hot gases and, if a gun is ill-timed, to spit the occasional lead shaving.  None of this is good for the shooter’s non-firing arm.

    The Colt Walker was effective but less than perfect.  Poor metallurgy in the early guns led to problems with ruptured cylinders, and the weak loading lever latch often led to the rammer dropping under recoil, jamming the gun up and preventing a fast follow-up shot.  In the end, this led to only 1,100 Walker revolvers being built.  These problems did, however, led to the next step in Colt sixgun development only a year after the advent of the Walker.

    The Dragoons

    Unknown Union soldier with a brace of Dragoons.

    A martial pistol must be powerful, reliable and tough; the Walker was powerful, but fell a bit short on the other two aspects.  So, what started with the Walker revolver led to several developments and refinements in the basic dragoon pistol.  There were four primary variants of the Dragoon revolvers:

    • The First Model Dragoon, made from 1848 to 1850, with oval cylinder stops, a square-backed trigger guard, and no wheel on the hammer where it rode on the mainspring.
    • The Second Model Dragoon, made from 1850 to 1851, with rectangular cylinder stops and a square-backed trigger guard. The first few hundred Second Models had the old V-type mainspring and no wheel on the hammer; later guns had the flat mainspring that would persist in Colt revolvers for many decades, along with a wheel on the hammer where it rode on the mainspring.
    • The Third Model Dragoon, made from 1851 to 1860, with rectangular cylinder stops and a rounded trigger guard. Colt played around with the Third Model more than the others, producing some with folding leaf sights on the barrel, cuts for shoulder stocks, and so on.
    • The 1848 Baby Dragoon, a small .31 caliber pocket revolver. This was later refined into the 1849 Pocket Revolver, which was popular among gold-seekers, gamblers and outlaws as a hideaway gun.

    The various Dragoon pistols were popular but even the Third Model still weighed in at a tad over four pounds.  There was obviously a market for a lighter, handier gun, more along the weight of the old Paterson guns but more modern and reliable.  That led to the development of an icon among cap-and-ball sixguns, the Colt Navy.

    The Colt Navy Revolvers

    My first sixgun was a replica of the 1851 Navy Colt, which is widely regarded as the best-handling sixgun made.  I see little reason to doubt that assessment based on my own experience.  My Navy had the standard 7 ½” barrel and a brass frame.  Back in my youth in Allamakee County I did a fair amount of fast-draw and reflex shooting practice, drawing and firing from an old drop belt from which the cartridge loops had been removed and a Mexican loop holster.  That Colt was excellent for such things, smooth, light and slick as a snake.  I shot it with .380 round lead balls and 30 grains of FFFG in paper cartridges I made myself.  I got so I could draw and place six rounds in a regular paper plate at 15 yards very quickly, and with the paper cartridges and a brass capper could reload and recap efficiently, usually having the old gun back in action in about a minute.  I carried the capper on a string around my neck, paper cartridges in an old tobacco tin and generally toted the old Navy around with me on many of my adventures in woods and fields.

    Colt Navy.

    There was a down side that resulted in my eventually discarding that old sixgun, and that was the brass frame.  With every shot that steel cylinder hammered back into that soft brass frame, eventually deforming the frame to the point where I reckoned the old piece unsafe to shoot.  I had a couple of friends who were in a local theater group, so I seated some balls in the empty cylinder, hammered a few balls into the barrel and removed the nipples to render the gun useless, then gave it to them as a prop gun.  I would like to have another of these guns, but when the day comes for me to find another cap and ball gun, it will be a steel frame version.  Brass frame replicas are still common on the gun market as flies in a barn, but I can’t recommend them for the reasons described above.

    Back in the day the Navy Colts were very popular.  The well-equipped cowpoke, lawman or gun twist frequently carried a brace of them in saddle holsters in addition to his belt gun; in the famous Charles Portis book True Grit, in that renowned final charge, it was with a brace of Navy Colts from saddle holsters that Marshal Cogburn engaged the four bad men, not the SAA Colt and ‘92 Winchester wielded by John Wayne in the movie.

    Ten years after the first Navy Colts were made, the Colt works brought out the ultimate Navy, that being the streamlined 1861 Navy, also in .36 caliber, with an improved “creeping” loading lever and the added loading clearance introduced in the .44 Army Colt of 1860.  There was also a miniature variant, the 1861 Pocket Navy, later refined into the 1862 Pocket Police, both small-framed .31 caliber revolvers.

    The Root Sidehammer

    Colt Root Sidehammer Patent Drawing

    The Root Side-hammer Colt, designed by Colt engineer Elisha K. Root, was in some ways a better design than the traditional versions; its solid frame was stouter, and the rear sight was on the frame rather than on the hammer nose.  The Root revolver, introduced in 1855, was popular among officers on both sides in the Civil War, but it was a real pipsqueak, manufactured only in .28 and .32 calibers

    The 1860 Army Colt

    What many consider the ultimate expression of the Colt cap and ball revolver was introduced in 1860, just in time for the Civil War or, as Mrs. Animal calls it, the War of the Northern Aggression.

    In many ways the 1860 Army combined the best of both worlds.  It was a much lighter and handier arm than the Dragoon pistols, and with it’s .44 caliber loads packed more punch than the Navy guns.  It was a fine, well-crafted, well-balanced piece, handicapped only by it’s open-topped frame and the odd placement of rear sight on the hammer nose.  This was perhaps the ultimate development of the Colt cap-and-ball revolver.  Its grip shape was so admirably suited to being fired accurately one-handed, even from horseback, carried over to the famous Colt Single Action Army and remains in use on the vast majority of single-action sixguns made today.  The use of a rebated cylinder allowed for the use of the same size frame as the Navy revolvers frame and kept the gun’s weight to about two and a half pounds.

    The Colt 1860 Army.

    As with the Walker and Navy revolvers, it has been my pleasure to handle a few Army Colts, most replicas but notably one original, although we didn’t fire the original.  The Army Colt is a pleasure to handle, heavy by modern standards but the big sixgun points naturally, barrel rise under recoil is controllable, and the rotation of the curved grip in the hand brings the hammer spur nicely under the thumb, allowing for quick follow-up shots.  The .44 round ball or conical bullet in front of 40 grains of FFFG packs a hearty punch.  A few shooting sessions with one will bring home exactly why this was probably the most desired martial sidearm of its era.

    And the demand for martial sidearms was about to explode.

    And Then This Happened

    Colt revolvers, especially the 1860 Army but also the Dragoon and Navy types, were soon in great demand as the War Between the States broke out.  Sam Colt, having foreseen the great increase in demand, had expanded the factory and, when the southern states began to secede, sold at least 2,000 revolvers to Confederate military buyers, an act which nearly killed the company when the war was over.  But what remains inarguable is the reason that the Colt revolvers were in demand by both Union and Confederate armies; they were tough, powerful, reliable sidearms, the state of the art for their day.

    Sam Colt passed away in January of 1862, killed of all things by complications of gout.  The appellation of Colonel was real, Sam Colt having received a commission from the state of Connecticut as commander of the 1st Regiment Colts Revolving Rifles of Connecticut.  But that unit never took the field, and Colonel Colt was soon released from service.  But the erstwhile Colonel Colt’s company was building thousands and thousands of Army revolvers and a variety of guns for the civilian market, they didn’t lack for competition.  Plenty of people were getting in on the sixgun action, including America’s oldest surviving gunmaker, Remington, as well as plenty of others.  We’ll talk about them in Part 3.  Meanwhile, bigger things were afoot; about this time two men were set to change the world of sixguns forever.  Those two men were Horace Smith and Daniel B. Wesson, and they had an idea and a patent.  But that’s a story for Part 4!

  • A History of The Six-gun, Part One

    Revolvers B.C.

    In the history of sixguns, there are two periods of time to be considered:  Before Sam Colt, and after Sam Colt.  The Before Colt (B.C.) era was the time of the flintlock, and a surprising number of innovative repeating guns were made during this time, mostly custom jobs and one-offs.  But there is one B.C. revolver that stands out, and that is the Collier.

    The Collier Revolver.

    Elisha Collier was a Boston inventor, and his revolver was unique in one respect among flintlock repeating guns; it used a cylinder separate from the barrel to carry the arm’s multiple charges, rather than the pepperbox-styled arrangements that were found prior to his time.  Collier’s first flintlock revolvers around 1814 and production continued up to about 1824, all guns being made by John Evans & Sons of London.  Estimates of numbers produced vary but are almost certainly under 500, in both handgun and long gun versions.

    The Collier revolver was a fine piece for its day.  It was innovative, well-made, well appointed and, given the shortcomings of its flintlock ignition system, reliable.  One of Collier’s innovations was an automated priming mechanism in the flintlock’s frizzen, that made possible repeated shots without re-priming the pan.  But the limitations of the flintlock remained; the guns, like all flintlocks, were vulnerable to wet and wind.  The advent of the percussion cap would change all that, but while Collier’s London manufacturer produced a few models using the newfangled percussion ignition system, for the most part Elisha Collier missed that boat.

    The real impact of the Collier revolver was not to come from Britain.  It came instead from a young cabin boy aboard the brig Corvo, who saw a Collier revolver on board ship and set to thinking about revolving repeaters.  That cabin boy’s name was Samuel Colt.

    The Advent of Colonel Colt

    Colonel Colt. He made all men equal.

    There’s a reason that the saying “God created men, Colonel Colt made them equal” was a truism in the old West.  The form of the modern wheelgun was in large part designed and defined by Sam Colt, and with the Colt revolver came the advent of the modern personal sidearm.

    The young Samuel Colt was an interesting character.  As a youth he was intrigued by gunpowder, electricity – he made one of, if not the first underwater electrically-fired explosive device – and manufacturing.  He’s known for pioneering revolver designs but also pioneered mass production and the use of interchangeable parts along with his contemporary Eli Whitney.  He also was among the first to dabble in such modern marketing techniques as celebrity endorsements, soliciting Italy’s King Victor Emmanuel II among others to make prominent use of his revolvers.  He used art liberally in advertising, paying substantial sums to have artists produce heroic scenes of the West featuring use of his revolvers in fighting outlaws and Indians.  A Renaissance Man he may not have been, but he was a brilliant inventor and marketer, and he changed the nature of sidearms forever.

    While the Collier revolver may have been the inspiration for Colonel Colt, he had the advantage of the new percussion cap ignition system.  After making several prototypes, including the famous hand-carved wooden model he produced while on board the Corvo, he arrived on the configuration that defines the sixgun to this day:  A solid frame and a revolving cylinder with stops to align each chamber in turn with the single barrel.

    European and American patents in hand, Colt obtained financing and set up shop in Paterson, New Jersey, calling his operation the Patent Arms Manufacturing company.

    The Paterson Colts

    Colt’s first revolver venture only ran for six years, from 1836 to 1842.  In that time the company produced 2,350 sidearms, 1,450 revolving rifles and carbines, and 460 revolving shotguns.

    The early Paterson revolvers were iconic, innovative and popular, but in hindsight weren’t terribly effective.  The lack of a trigger guard is noticeable, the guns having a fragile folding trigger that extended when the hammer was cocked.  The first models had to be partially disassembled to be reloaded.  But Colt finally achieved a measure of success with the .36 caliber Belt Model #5,

    The Texas Paterson.

    commonly known as the Texas Paterson.

    By modern standards the ergonomics of the Paterson revolvers are pretty bad.  The odd-shaped grip doesn’t suit people with large hands.  The guns were a little light on the barrel end unless you had one of the 9” versions, making them feel whippy in handling; but the long-barreled guns were not as quick to clear leather, putting the horse soldier or gunfighter at a disadvantage.  Even so, the gun pointed naturally and shot reasonably well.

    The Paterson was imperfect in other ways.  Guns made before 1839 were, as noted, difficult to reload, and all the Paterson guns only held five shots.

    Being a five-shooter rather than a six-shooter was a problem for one more reason than the one missing shot.  All Colt revolvers up to and including the famed Single Action Army had the same issue, namely that the only safe way to carry one was with the hammer down on an empty chamber.  This reduced the Paterson to a four-shot gun, and (at least, before 1839) one that couldn’t be quickly or easily recharged.

    Bear in mind that this was an era in which most sidearms were still front-stuffing single-shots, so the handicap wasn’t seen as being as dire as we might consider it today, in a time where many semi-auto sidearms carry enough ammo in a single magazine to lay low a small army of attackers.  Even so, the limitation often led to the conscientious pistolero carrying two or three revolvers on belt or saddle.

    A Paterson Colt rifle.

    The Patent Arms Manufacturing Company sold a number of sidearms to the US Army who issued them to troops fighting in the Second Seminole Wars.  Those troops favored the Paterson Colt’s capacity, but Army evaluators found the guns too finicky and unreliable in combat and so disallowed any further purchases.  Sam Colt did sell a couple hundred sidearms and a like number of revolving rifles to the Republic of Texas, who issued them to their new-found Navy, but when that Navy disbanded in 1843, the Paterson guns were issued to the Texas Rangers.  The Rangers liked the revolving guns, which gave them a much-needed firepower advantage over the Comanche Indians, with whom the Republic of Texas was then engaged in hostilities.

    It was in fact the use of Paterson revolvers by the Texans and their increasing popularity with the new waves of settlers crossing the prairies that set the stage for the next step in the development of Colonel Colt’s revolvers.  While the Paterson Colt was arguably a failure both in martial and commercial sales, and while the Patent Arms Manufacturing Company went under after only six years, a seed had been planted.

    That seed sprang forth in 1846, when General Zachary Taylor send a young Army Captain, Samuel Walker, to Connecticut, where Sam Colt was engaged in manufacturing underwater electrical cable, tinfoil and marine mines.  Captain Walker had one mission:  To convince Colonel Colt of the need for a revised revolver, one that would be more reliable, more rugged and more powerful than the .28 and .36 caliber Patersons.  That mission by Captain Walker would bear significant fruit…

    …But that’s a tale for Part 2.

  • Stone Wall and Sudley Ford: A photographic tour of Manassas Battlefield National Park

     
    I want to start off with a few mentions. First off, thanks to Yusef for the diorama posts. I wouldn’t have bothered writing this article without your articles showing the interest the glibertariat has in historic battles. Thanks also to straffinrun for encouraging me to snap some pics and linking the Mises podcast.

    The Mises podcast is absolutely kickass and worth a listen.

    Part 1
    Part 2

    Part 3
    Part 4

    Part 5
    Part 6

    I’ll preface the bulk of this article by saying that I’m no expert on the Civil War, and I may get some details wrong.

    Also, I highly recommend the following atlas if you are a civil war buff.

     

    Here’s a basic view of the area surrounding the battlefield:


     

    Now we zoom in to the battlefield.


     

    I annotated the map to include some of the important landmarks:

    From east to west between Henry Hill and Matthews Hill is the Warrenton turnpike. From north to south between Henry Hill and Chinns Ridge is Sudley Road.

    I spent all of my time on Henry Hill, as I had my 1 year old with me and didn’t want to cross US 29 (Warrenton Turnpike) with her to walk Matthews Hill. These images are all hi res, so you should be able to zoom in by clicking on the images. Edit: the site choked on my super hi res images, so these are lower resolution but still clickable.

    The Museum at Manassas
    Looking East across the top of Henry Hill. Bull Run is about 1/2 mile into the woods.
    Looking North from Stonewall Jackson’s statue at Henry House.
    Henry House with Bull Run mountains in the distance
    Still looking North at Henry House, Matthews Hill can be seen on the top right of the image

    The above image is a bit deceptive. There is a large valley between Henry House and Matthews Hill.

     

    Henry House and a monument to the battle
    Turning to the East, you can see a Union artillery line
    Union Cannons
    Confederate Artillery on the West side of Henry Hill pointing east
    From the Confederate Artillery to the Union Artillery is maybe 1/4 mile west to east
    Mrs. Henry’s grave at Henry House
    Henry House
    You can go into some of the houses, including Henry House and Matthews House
    Looking East from Henry House. Stone Bridge is buried in the distant woods out of sight.
    Matthews House at the base of Matthews Hill. Warrenton turnpike passes right in front of the house

    Chinns Ridge is back in the woods to the West across Sudley Road. I didn’t make it back there.
    Working East along a loop around Henry Hill, there are info boards in various places.
    Northeast of Henry Hill is Robinson House, which is around 200 yards away from Warrenton Turnpike
    The foundation of Robinson House
    Working back South toward the Union Artillery
    Another info board
    View from the Union artillery West toward the Confederate line

    Natural Beauty
    Sudley Church
    My photography assistant

     

    A picture is worth a thousand words, so this is like a zillion word article! Let me know if you have any questions or want to see something more in specific.

  • On Shaping the Army Network…

     

    The story starts here – pages 5-7 in particular. And yes, you need to read that article to appreciate the rest below.

    I was asked to provide comments, this was my response:

    The scenario reads like a rejected plot treatise from the TV show 24.

    Is this now proposed to be a doctrinal infantry battalion operation? Or is the “battalion sized raid” really an over-grown Special Ops activity? The scenario posits that stealthiness and surprise are essential – which argues that some 800 soldiers in uniform aren’t the right force, no matter how they infil/exfil. The scenario then assumes that this large of a physical operation is critically dependent on cyber (in a country with a dysfunctional government but a “sprawling mega-city”); and that a greater threat to the operation is presented by social media than either Attican military or Sogali police force or the armed criminal gang with a bio-toxin. There are two distinct air assaults (initial and follow-on), and these proceed undetected and undisturbed by Attican civil and military personnel (presumably deterred but not killed by “ground protection robots”).

    As a proof of the concept, let alone of the operational capability (test or field exercise), in what CONUS location will cyber teams deploy and clandestinely establish access to cellular (e.g. Verizon), landline/internet (e.g. AT&T and TimeWarner) as described? This will all be accomplished while evading detection and counter-measures of course.

    Does the author of the scenario actually have a notion of what a “quantum gravity sensor” is – or is that just a collection of cool sounding words? Is a microbot really the size (and appearance) of a rodent, or is it smaller – say the size of a cockroach?

    The rehearsal of the raid is conducted while the raid is already underway, i.e. the force is in country potentially drawing hostile attention? And it is all virtual (simulation)? While rehearsal of [small] special operation missions is a key component of McRaven’s case studies in SpecOps, they are not done as part of the mission itself. They are done well in advance to drill and debug the mission plan. One can imagine a game designer philosophy in the virtual rehearsal – nope, we need to reset, again.

    Direct neural interface? Is the author of this scenario going to be involved (as a subject) in the testing of those?

    XT “combatants” are neutralized non-lethally, but the armed UAVs are eliminating threats on rooftops via more conventional means? And that draws no attention/reaction from any Sogali or Attican officials?

    The crowds gathering in the streets receive the PSA ‘burst’ transmitted to them, which they ignore and develop into a threat to the mission. Now what? Social media detects anxiety and hostility (I suspect the soldiers on the ground are sensing that too), but no ameliorative action is suggested let alone taken.

    Friendly casualties (hey, there’s a touch of reality after all) are treated while wounded hostiles and neutrals are left to fend for themselves. No repercussions there. All withdraw, including captured hostiles (and the biotoxin – presumably all to be destroyed at our convenience) without so much as a scolding from any actor of the government who’s sovereignty we just stomped all over.

    Heck, if we’ve got direct neural interfaces – why don’t we just slip a few operatives into the XT compound and de-neuralize the bad guys (to borrow from another Hollywood plot)? That way they won’t even remember that they could produce a lethal substance.

    The scenario is so broken as to make any contemplation of possible technology capabilities within the forecast timeframe too immature and fantastical to warrant the amount of time spent in producing and reviewing this document.

    Now, remind yourself – this is a document on a U.S. Army website that all of the officials in charge of public affairs deemed suitable.

  • Lozon, France: A WWII Diorama

    In the beginning, it was just a few figures to paint as the Crew of my B-25 Mitchell R/C plane, which is about 54” wingspan, so maybe 1/35 scale figures, so off I go to buy men, glue and paint. Some background: I have built models all my life, from shitty to glorious, and one of my customers is the owner of the hobby shop I have shopped at for 35 years, Pegasus Hobbies. So I knew where to go and what to buy, then I got home…

    I finished my guys and put them in my plane and brainstormed, “what if this plane did an emergency landing, and caught a Tiger on a field out of fuel, pinning it with its massive amount of .50 caliber guns? So I bought a 70$ Russian Tiger Tank model, I’m not cheap, and it was a sweet build, I ended up modding it several times as you will see.

    I needed landscaping and looked around and found some cheap shapes at the 99 cent store, and papier-mâché of course, but coverage? It was right then I knew I needed a plan, this was going to grow, I wasn’t sure just how big, yet. After a bit of research I found Woodland Scenics, which makes all kinds of very cool things such as bare trees, shrubbery, loose grass, dirt, sand, just an abundance of ideas, and with that in mind I decided what to do.

    The Bocage

    Actually means little boxes in French, however, from the wiki, in English bocage refers to a terrain of mixed woodland and pasture, with fields and winding country lanes sunken between narrow low ridges and banks surmounted by tall thick hedgerows that break the wind but also limit visibility. It is the sort of landscape found in England in Devon.

    “The 1934 Nouveau Petit Larousse defined bocage as ‘a bosquet, a little wood, an agreeably shady wood’ and a bosquet as a little wood, a clump of trees’. By 2006, the Petit Larousse definition had become ‘(Norman word) Region where the fields and meadows are enclosed by earth banks carrying hedges or rows of trees and where the habitation is generally dispersed in farms and hamlets.”

    In WWII, The Bocage would play havoc with the Allied Advance, so I went with Operation Cobra, and an Allied advanced scout finding a full blown German repair base.

    Caught unawares, they get shot up bad, and call for help, then it all unfolds…

    My son got involved when he saw the decals, especially for the men themselves, and he did some fantastic work under lamps and magnifiers. He had a go at painting, but he fucked up so badly, I made him do a complete repaint, which he did flawlessly…and said, never again. Now it was my job.

    The Bocage needed to be at least 15 feet scale in places, so I glued down some shapes and began gluing shrub pieces, it took an hour to finish an inch, granted, I added hidey holes and things, but it was 30 inches long. There was also the Bocage tunnels; they were fun because I needed to keep them open some just to see the guys running through them.

    Details: At this point, it’s midsummer, so when I come home from work, I just want to cool off, and paint…really what I began to do is run several jobs at once, spray big pieces, paint men, assemble, landscape, repeat, for 6 months. And the farther we got in the project, the more detail was necessary. I did 240 men total, and I spent 2 hours on each one, and I could have done better (and lost my mind).

    By this time we are done with this panel, 30”x 50”and stow it in the garage ’til next year.

    We spent a lot of time watching historical docs on YouTube, focusing on what they really looked like, camo, lifestyle, all that we could find. I scoured the Internet looking for new figures for the next phase, and bought just about every German and American 1/35 scale figures you can, then set up the next section.

    The Base: the following Spring, I started filling the section I had built over the winter, this needed a bit more thought being quite busy. So what does a Base need?

    (click to enlarge images)

    The Storyline: Nazi fanatic Commandant throws everything at the force attacking, simple, it’s a caught off guard scenario, kinda like reality. There are culverts, ditches, a prime mover, wounded men, a pig sty, and my son made sure that every piece was the right division for the time and area, including 240 helmet insignias! I painted my men in groups, and mixed up the uniform colors for each one, while staying accurate. I lost about 200 pictures when my W7 machine died, but there’s a lot of neat stuff to check out.

    I had a great time doing this project, it took 2 years and about 1400 hours between my son and me, and I think $1500 or so, but spread out.

    Armory: US
    M3 Lee
    M3 Stuart
    Sherman
    Jeep

    Armory: Germany
    3-Flak 36/37
    2-20mm AA guns
    3-75 mm guns
    Tiger1
    Panther
    Hetzer
    PZ4 H
    2- 75mm AT guns
    2- Hanomag troop carriers
    1- 8 ton truck to move this shit
    1- Rail mounted PZ 4 turret

    As I thought I was finishing, several knowledgeable friends asked, “where’s the radio room, how about a shitter?” It just happens that there is a radio room with operators you can buy, and I found the most realistic copies of maps, and shrunk them down.

    I wanted a nice, expropriated office for my Commandant, and I found some nice period pieces cast in resin, so I set him up. I found 1/35 scale Nazi propaganda posters on Ebay. Sweet! I built his entire room, fireplace, desk, library, map table (with accurate maps), and a fraulein, again, custom paint.

    Paint: For all projects I use Testors, and Testors Model Master, and Tamiya Acrylics

    Landscape: Woodland Scenics, hands down. Use a white glue/water mix, spray and spread.

    Brands: Start with Tamiya, best bang for the buck, because quality counts, Ukraine has Szvezda, but there are many others. YMMV.

    At the end, things were looking good enough to find an actual place in France, and I found it! My Name, Lozon, France, not 3 miles from my diorama! Maybe closer!
    I made sure to setup street markers, etc but not Lozon sadly. Still cool, it’s a real place.

    I ended up very happy with the results, and it kept me busy for 2 summers. I know it’s amateurish, but hey I’m an amateur!

    View more photos:

    Gallery 1

    Gallery 2

  • Trashy tries creative writing, sci-fi style [Part 1]

    I occasionally get the fiction writing bug and put together a short story. Usually they suck because I’m not a creative writer and I’m usually just blowing off some creative steam since I write highly technical documents at my day job. Anyway, I have a start of a short story I’d like to share for the hell of it. If there’s sufficient interest, I’ll write and post more of it on here.

    ————

     

    A subtle jolt signaled the end of the ride for Lt. Van Balych. The doors to the elevator slid open with a light rumble, and his first step onto the gravitative section of the NASS Umbique was a bit shaky. He hadn’t been in space in quite a while, and he had forgotten that it takes a day or so to get one’s space legs under them. The hallway he stepped into seemed neverending, an artifact of the wholly uninspired design of the Nakayama-class orbital patrol frigate. “Brutalism meets Flash Gordon,” quipped another Ensign during then Ensign Balych’s first space assignment, also on a Nakayama-class orbital patrol frigate.

    These frigates were disproportionately sized for their role in the North American Space Force, almost 80% the size of a Xie-class cruiser. However, the asteroid belt wasn’t nearly as contentious a place as had been expected, and the cruisers spent most of their time doing the job of orbital patrol frigates anyway. In a political “compromise,” the newest generation of orbital patrol frigate, the Nakayama-class, was designed to be the best of both worlds, a frigate with the resources of a cruiser. The result was a 700 meter long ship that looks like a boxy rolling pin. An ungainly angular command section contains a bridge, a forward engineering compartment, and a forward weapons array along with an associated magazine. The middle 500 meters consists of a spindly core around which the gravitative section rotates. The gravitative section is a 5-deck modular cylinder kept at 0.85g. Each module is a 500 meter by 50 meter rectangular strip that can be fully isolated from the other modules in case of emergency. The modules interconnect with adjacent modules through bulkheads every 100 meters. The rear section is a bulbous EM drive section. There is an aft engineering section and an aft weapons array, but they are usually remotely controlled unless heavy damage is taken at the front of the ship or maintenance is required.

    Van looked at the instructions projected on his glasses and began walking down the monotonous beige corridor, passing door after door of crew quarters. One of the nice things about having a ridiculously oversized ship was the fact that everybody got their own room. “26-B-12,” he mumbled under his breath, passing an Ensign in a purple trimmed uniform, indicative of a weapons controller. Yes, NASF ripped the whole colored uniform thing from Star Trek. It was supposed to be a morale boost, but it is more of a fleetwide embarrassment than anything. Van looked up from his half-aware cadence down the hall to see 26-B-17 on a door to the left. He shifted his gaze to the other side of the hall and acquired 26-B-12 a few meters further down. As he reached his arm out to push the entry button on the wall, the door recognized his wrist implant and opened with a mechanical whirr. “It’s an accordion door, of course, because that’s the least complicated type of door to design and maintain. These doors never fail!” Van sarcastically thought, remembering back to the multiple occasions during his stint on the Svenson when the door to his quarters jammed.

    Van stepped into his new quarters and was hit with a familiar smell. Despite the Umbique being almost two years old, nobody had been in this room since the pre-launch inspection. The new quarters smell was unmistakable. He dropped his duffel on the downright luxurious queen sized bed and scanned the room. The configuration was familiar, bathroom to the left, closet to the right, bed in front, desk next to the bed. Around the edges of the floor were angled windows that reminded Van of prisms. They were an attempt to give a view of the starscape that wasn’t just a porthole drilled in the floor. Officers were assigned quarters on deck 5, and non-comms were assigned windowless quarters on deck 4, a not-so-subtle insult given that the quarters on deck 5 could hold the entire 220 person crew thrice over.

    Van stepped into the bathroom, which automatically illuminated upon his presence. He looked into the mirror and swept off the remnant disheveledness that lingered from the four hour ride to orbit and then to the Umbique. He had been greeted by a Lieutenant Commander at the airlock and couldn’t remember her name. She was cute, if a bit swallowed up by her high-collared uniform. Balych toggled through the menus on his glasses with a sensation that resembled muscle memory and called up the ship’s crew roster. In a matter of a few seconds, he had filtered the list and found a picture of a soft-faced Lieutenant Commander trying her hardest to look tough. “Lt. Cmdr. Aria Snelling,” the dossier headlined. As quickly as he had looked up the information, he shut down the search and focused back on his reflection, running his hand across his cheek. He frowned at the rough feel of the five o’clock shadow and returned to his duffel to retrieve his laser razor. A quick two minutes later, he was baby faced and bald, which was how men were expected to groom themselves these days. He had a mild shudder as he thought about growing a beard and hair, which were considered old fashioned and a little bit tacky. Van gave his quarters one last glance before walking out and heading for the bridge.

    Lt. Balych had been assigned to the Umbique as Chief Compliance Officer, a natural extension from his prior role as a Senior Compliance Liaison at Space Consulate Canaveral. His task on this cruise was to ensure the regulatory compliance of all transports flying the common transit routes between the asteroid belt and the Inner Ports. Human space travel was still in its infancy, and very little exploration had been done outside of the asteroid belt. However, a few colonies had been established on the Moon and on Mars for various industrial purposes, including ore refining, spaceship manufacturing, and automated manufacturing for Earth consumption. These Inner Ports, including the many ports on Earth, were abuzz with commerce. The transit routes that connected the Inner Ports with the asteroid belt were traveled by a unique group of people, the Boomers.

    The elevator slowed to a stop with a small jolt and Van felt the last of the gravity go away. He held onto the railing until the doors slid open. With a small push, he stepped into a small corridor and eased back down onto the floor. The command section did not rotate, and technically had no gravity, but a magnetic field interacted with metallic microfibers woven into his uniform to provide the illusion of a minimum of gravity, something like 0.2g. It was enough to be able to walk around, but took some getting used to. Regulations stated that a crewmember could only spend 6 hours per day maximum in magna-grav sections of the ship to prevent the onset of microgravity ailments like bone density loss. Van walked past a couple of doors that led to command crew conference rooms and stepped up to the door at the end of the hall marked “Bridge”. He almost smacked his face into the door as a buzzing noise accompanied a red flashing light to signal his denial of access. A moment later, he heard an alarm sound from the tactical station on the other side of the stubbornly closed doors. Van quickly located the access list for the bridge on his glasses and scanned the list for his name. He found it instantly and confirmed that the access code on file matched to his wrist implant. He stepped forward again and the door slid open. The tactical officer pivoted in her chair and quizzically looked at Lt. Balych as he rolled his eyes. The bridge was vaguely reminiscent of the old NASA mission control center in Houston. He had never seen it in person, but there was a faithful mockup at Space Consulate Canaveral that he had seen many times. Three rows of computer stations were stacked in front of one another, all facing a bank of three screens at the front of the bridge. Van stood on a riser near the rear of the bridge and was looking downward at the command center. Three chairs sat in the middle of the large riser, a surprisingly large space for only three chairs and an emergency console on the back wall. The flurry of activity overwhelmed Van’s senses for a moment before his mind was able to adjust.

    The bridge crew consisted of a Captain, two Commanders, four Lieutenant Commanders, and six Lieutenants. The Captain and Commanders inhabited the three throne-like chairs in the back of the room. Lt. Balych approached the throne and cleared his throat. It was time to put on a show. In his best Swahili, he addressed Captain Mbeke. “I have been transferred under your command as of today, March 18, 2162. I am glad to be of service to you.” He intentionally and expertly avoided any offensive gendering, sideways glances, and assertiveness. It was especially difficult to keep his eyes from wandering when addressing Captain Mbeke. Xhe was a mountain of a woman, err, gender-nonspecific human. The image kept popping into Van’s head of mashed potatoes, because Mbeke’s morbidly obese body had the color and texture of mashed potatoes with gravy. Lt. Balych had addressed morbidly obese Captains before. 40% of Captains required a mattress instead of a command chair because they were too big for the command chair (which was already designed for a person of 450 pounds). However, Captain Mbeke had wedged xherself into the command chair, clearly in denial about xher 600-plus pound girth. Van had researched Captain Mbeke prior to boarding the Umbique, and knew much more about xher than likely anybody else on the ship. Captain Mbeke was born Stephanie Dawson, and was the daughter of Second Consul Blandon Dawson, one of the most powerful politicians on Earth. After spending 6 months living in South Africa, Stephanie Dawson became trans-racial and transgendered, and eventually changed xher name to Salani Mbeke, coopting a traditional Congan surname. Most senior officers were appointed directly to their positions due to political connection, and Captain Mbeke was no different. She was 32 when she was appointed to the Captaincy of the Umbique, without even stepping foot at officers’ school. Similarly, the Commanders and Lieutenant Commanders had all likely been appointed to the vessel as political favors.  Running an orbital patrol frigate was seen as a cushy job for the elites, given the low danger, the high amount of control, and the sumptuous allure of harassing the junior officers and non-comms. Normal people like Lt. Balych capped out at Lieutenant, with a select few making it to Lieutenant Commander.

    Captain Mbeke, leaned up into an erect sitting position, a fire building in her eyes. A guttoral exhale signaled that the fury was about to be unleashed, a song and dance Lt. Balych had experienced many times before. He tried to act and look as unimposing as possible, hoping to let the gale pass with minimal damage. In perfectly unaccented English, Mbeke screamed, “YOU DARE BUTCHER MY LANGUAGE?? YOU HAVEN’T EVEN BEEN ON MY SHIP AN HOUR AND YOU INSULT ME??” Her arms shook with rage, the dangling fat counter-rotating and flapping like a flesh-colored flag in a hurricane. The sound of skin-on-skin slapping was vaguely sexual, but only disgustingly so. Van purged the thought from his mind before the thought of a walrus mating with a bowl of jello made him visibly cringe and offend the gelatinous woman even more. Mbeke shifted over to look at one of the Commanders and said in a broken voice, “The safety of this bridge has . . . been. . .  violated!” Her lower lip began to pout and water glistened deep in her fat-swollen eyes, her words punctuated by a rhythmic heaving whistle unique to such a morbidly obese person trying to suppress her sobs, “I’ve. never. been. so. humiliated. in. my. liiiiiiiiiiii-hi-hi-hiiiiiiifffffffffffe!!” She broke down into a blubbering mess, her pasty mashed potato skin turning bright red with the effort. The Commander to her left motioned to one of the Lieutenants who escorted Lt. Balych off the bridge and into one of the command conference rooms. Van was happy that the ceremonial victimization of the Captain was finished. Tradition or no, he could never shake the thought that it was a bit ridiculous. There were better ways to put new junior officers in their place.

    Lt. Eva Baxter dropped the portable reading device on the conference table with just enough gusto to signal to Van that she didn’t want to be there dealing with onboarding a new bridge officer at the moment. Even though Baxter was likely a normal person who went to officer training school and didn’t come from a life of privilege, the systemic disdain held by the appointed senior officers tended to infect the rest of a ship like a virus. “Here is all the information about your job responsibilities, the layout of your bridge console, access parameters, your shift assignments, and protocols for communicating with senior officers. Read it all and memorize it,” she gruffly monotoned, punching buttons on the reading device. With a final button click, the entirety of the manual was uploaded to Van’s glasses, as indicated by a progress bar projected on the bottom of his left lens. She then proceeded to look him head to toe, a gesture he knew all too well. “We run the consort system here, have you been a consort on any of your previous assignments?” her disinterested demeanor staying unchanged, despite the shift to a sexual conversation. “Yes, I was consort to a Commander on my previous space assignment,” Van responded, momentarily flashing back to a memory of a sexual encounter with Cmdr. Bordreaux on the Svenson. “Good,” the emotionless Lieutenant dismissively muttered, “you’re not the Captain’s type, and the Commanders both already have enough consorts, so you may end up with a Lieutenant Commander.” An unofficial policy adopted on some of the most female dominated ships in the fleet assigned the male junior officers to female senior officers for sexual liaises. Neither the men nor the women needed the sex, as sexbots and sex toys were more than adequate to satisfy any sexual desire they had. However, the consort program gave the female senior officers another avenue to show their disdain for the junior officers, and especially for the wholly emasculated male officers. Consort sexual encounters were notoriously humiliating to the men. Some of the women even took perverse joy in pegging their men while making every effort to let the men know that they were less than trash. Lt. Balych had been lucky the first time. Cmdr. Bordreaux was a bit more traditional, and wasn’t particularly comfortable with the dominant role she was supposed to take in the consort relationship. Mostly, she just wanted companionship. Van was nervous that he’d get a true believer in the consort system this time around. His ass clenched at the thought.

  • Tactical Libertarianism

     

    The FBI agents arrived as expected, though they took up a few of the parking spaces for my own young troops that were working shift that day. When I looked out of my office window I sighed and thought to myself, “typical government agents.” I had deliberately marked those spaces off and told the agents they needed to park next door before their arrival. I strode outside and calmly but firmly asked the first agent I saw to get their guys’ gear packed up and moved over to the next parking area so my own people could use their own parking lot. I received a dark glare in response, but he grudgingly moved his two dozen or so agents, their heavy weapons, armored and unmarked SUVs, and the various listening and breeching devices they had to the next lot over.

    Christ, what an asshole.

    I’ll be damned if I let some dipshit civilian agents take up the parking spaces of my own troops. I’ve already got a chip on my shoulder from reading you lot’s opinions about law enforcement, and being a LEO myself, it’s hard not to get that nagging feeling that if I’m going to be principled about this then I’ll make sure every other prick I’ve got to work with is too.

    It isn’t long before the rest of the FBI equipment starts arriving. Blackhawks, armored carriers, and a few other odds and ends that would make the tinfoil hat wearers’ skins crawl. This, of course, is all happening within the United States. I voice my displeasure to my boss, who is well aware of my leanings, and he just shrugs and says that we aren’t involved, we’re just letting them use our parking lot.

    Most days, that’s the best answer I can get.

    I must preface the rest of this by saying that military law enforcement is not like civilian law enforcement. My jurisdiction ends at the gates except under extremely special circumstances where there is an immediate danger to life or national security. There are very, very few circumstances where that is the case and for the most part we are quite content to sit on our own little plot of land and protect our assets and the other military personnel, their families, and the support civilians who use them. There are a lot of other differences related to military law and the various responsibilities of commanders and such. That’s not really what this post is about though. It is kind of a two-for-one post about police reform and using tactical leadership to live out libertarian principles.

    As much as I hate to do so, I try to follow the police shootings that make the news. I am not a legal eagle. I can only make judgments based on what is shown to me by the extremely biased news and I can only look at so much news before I have to find something else to do that doesn’t make me want to gouge my eyes out with a wooden spoon. Every single shooting on the news in recent memory makes me cringe.

    You see, the thing I dislike most in life is a person who is unwilling to reflect on their own weaknesses or shortcomings. I don’t hate them, it’s more like pity, and nothing fills me with more pity than watching some untrained lackey in a uniform tap dance around the fact that they fucked up. They fucked up real bad and it cost someone their life when there are clear (at least to me) alternatives. Worse, I listen to the excuses of their defenders…their bosses, the public, the families. It is here that I need to remind the readers that there is a lot that goes on in the background that we may not hear about, but I can tell you from a law enforcement perspective that not enough occurs for it to make a meaningful difference. When I see the excuses being made to the public, what I see is what is happening behind the scenes. The chiefs are raging about image and the lawyers are making up public releases. The other cops are busting the balls of the shooter, maybe even shunning them. At the end of it all, “cooler heads prevail” and someone decides that we can’t let the public see us admitting a mistake because it emboldens our enemies and weakens trust.

    That’s all total horseshit. If it were up to me, Attorney General Mustang, I would put every cop on trial that fired their gun and they would be subject to the same rights, prosecution, and defense that every other civilian is entitled to. I want them to consider every round before it leaves the chamber and I want to eliminate, no, decimate every police union that has ever existed. Grind it up into dust and scattered to the winds with their union bosses (metaphorically) strung up for the world to see that if you become a law enforcement officer, you had better be the best, and you had better be prepared to defend every action you take ON YOUR OWN, just like every other human being you are supposed to be protecting. I would not oppose doubling the punishments against law enforcement officers for committing even the smallest offense.

    A secondary part that you are all familiar with is reducing the number of laws that officers must enforce. This is a huge deal. There is no possible way to effectively police every law on the books and it doesn’t matter how much money is in the budget. The task that goes hand-in-hand with this item is the elimination of funding from tickets. A military law enforcement officer may write tickets on base, but not one cent goes towards the unit’s budget. That this isn’t the case for civilian law enforcement is so perverse that it needs to be at the top of the list for criminal justice reform. Furthermore, not everything even needs a damn law. This is pretty well covered on a daily basis around here, but it is sufficient to say that the state of law in this country is an abhorrent mess…is it any wonder that a cop can’t make an effective judgment call if they can’t even understand the law they’re supposed to be enforcing?

    A third item worth addressing is the standards for recruitment. They’re abysmal. Special forces applicants undergo extensive psychological testing to determine their ability to make decisions under pressure and accomplish the mission. It would be perfectly acceptable to subject law enforcement applicants to a standard that is at least as rigorous without the emphasis on destruction. In fact, I propose the opposite of destruction. Whereas special operators are expected to mete out absolute death in the circumstances they are ordered into, we should establish a system for law enforcement applicants where they are expected to mete out absolute life so that the citizens they are protecting can be assured that when an officer responds they are going to do everything within their power to keep people alive. Here’s the real catch that will send current officers into a frothing mess: law enforcement officers must do this for people who are actively breaking the law. If a perpetrator dies, officers should be subjected to a trial wherein it is determined whether or not the officer did everything in their power to keep the perpetrator alive. An officer who has passed a mental exam reserved for special operators but who would die to protect a victim and a perpetrator would be an impressive officer indeed.

    Officers must remember that they are a part of the community, even if they are coming from far away. This is something I have to remind my own troops of on a regular basis. It never fails that there is always at least one “supercop” who feels it is their absolute duty to ticket any and every offense to the maximum extent. At my last assignment, I had an individual who would line the cars up on the streets as they passed by and go down the line writing tickets. I quickly put a stop to this. It is complete and utter nonsense and hurts the community far more than it helps protect them. At every assignment I’ve been to I’ve had to rein in “supercop.” I’ve often heard the rebuttal “the law is the law” and to some extent that is true, however, I often find myself applying the NAP to decide on the application of the law. Often, this results in me simply turning someone around who may be bringing an illegal substance into my jurisdiction.

    I’ve also been hit square in the face with the realization that it’s not just the “supercops” who fall victim to the idea that cops are the only thing standing between civilization and anarchy. On at least one occasion, an individual I was well acquainted with and who was a director for another unit came up to me one day and asked if it was normal for my officers to place their hands on their weapons when approached. I was a bit taken aback. This has never been standard practice since I’ve been in. In fact, we are specifically taught to keep our hands in front so as not to escalate a situation. The director informed me that during his usual early morning walk through his supply yard, coffee cup in hand, he was approached by one of my officers who had his hand on his weapon and was demanding ID. While I don’t expect the officer to recognize everyone on base, I do expect them to compose themselves in a professional manner when they are out in the community. Upon calling up my training section and initiating more focused efforts on community relations (and basic fucking police tactics, like don’t hold your gun like a scared little twerp), I quickly found out that all the “war on cops” rhetoric in recent years was weighing on my very young group of officers. I created a brief presentation on the actual statistics on violent crime and police deaths, one which was well received and proved to be a relief for my officers.

    Here is where I can tie in the use of body cameras. I believe they are a wonderful tool because in my limited experience, the officer will never tell the whole truth. I do not necessarily believe that they intentionally lie at all times, however, an uneducated individual that was hired using poor standards might be inclined to forget incriminating circumstances or less likely to take in the entire set of circumstances they find themselves in. The public should demand body cameras for all their officers and not only that, there must be a punishment associated with not using them. We use fail safes in many other professions to learn what went wrong and apply those lessons in the future. If these officers have nothing to hide, then they have nothing to fear. Standard libertarian disclaimer: I don’t believe this saying applies to private citizens. It absolutely applies to government employees.

    I wish I could say that it’s just bad apples, but that would be a lie. As a young officer, this became apparent to me very quickly following a meeting I had with local police chiefs. I was asked to provide my antiterrorism expertise for an event and, having never done something like this before, I was eager to talk about the subject. It wasn’t long into the meeting that I found out they weren’t really interested in terrorism. There was only a passing interest in looking for backpack bombs or something else of that nature. No, the real threat was that a group of gun rights advocates were preparing to attend the event as well with their firearms in full view. The discussion quickly turned away from spotting the real threats to this “extremist militia.” I attempted to bring the discussion back around by pointing out that anyone who is open carrying and minding their own business is going to be the least of your concerns when looking for terror threats, but to no avail. I left the discussion at the first break, disgusted by what I had learned.

    It is with this little bit of background that I came up with a subject called “tactical libertarianism.” I know some of you will cringe at the concept of applying military terms to this philosophy, but it’s how I think and it’s what works for me. The idea stems from my training as a Special Reaction Team leader (a kind of SWAT) and from some experience overseas. The basic premise to me is that each individual that makes up a team must be responsible for themselves, first and foremost, so that the team is not carrying them in life threatening situations. How does this apply to libertarianism?

    Every person, whether we like it or not, is a part of a team. Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, but in general, most of us can look around and see the team framework all around us. It could be a family unit, a group of friends, coworkers, etc. As libertarians, we often joke about being antisocial, the tiniest of political minorities, insignificant on any stage worth noting. I believe, however, that that is not the case. To me, there is nothing mightier than an individual who recognizes their own self-worth and can apply that to a team construct.

    A fire team encourages each other. They bust each other’s balls. They push each other in the gym and help each other through tough times, but ultimately, they all know that the individual must make the conscious effort to be the best they can be for the team. An individual who doesn’t measure up, who drags the team down, is dropped.

    In normal society, however, we can’t just drop someone because they drag us down. We have obligations to each other for various reasons (no, this isn’t some social contract fuckery, I’m just talking about the ties we have with the individuals around us that we voluntarily create). As libertarians, we tend to be stronger mentally because of our unceasing desire to better ourselves as individuals. We constantly look inward, challenge ourselves to find cracks in our armor, seek out knowledge and arguments, and look around us to better understand the world we live in.

    Tactical libertarianism is the idea that when we, as libertarians, recognize our being part of a team, we can push the entire team forward to become stronger than it was before. You push yourself to be healthier, stronger, more financially stable, more educated, and more individualistic because of your unwavering support for the libertarian philosophy. If you model libertarianism and stand on principle within the framework of the teams you are a part of, you might find yourself able to lead the team forward because of what you have pushed yourself to do. In fact, I actively encourage that leadership. The joke is often said here that anyone who seeks a position of power is exactly the type of person who shouldn’t have it. I agree. The difference here is that by consciously acknowledging the corrupting effect of power in a position, and then making the decision to give up that power upon the expiration of your time in that position, you have already proven that you are in some way qualified to hold those positions. George Washington did not seek to be President, but he did not hide from that duty either.

    An example of tactical libertarianism I will use has to do with active shooter scenarios. As the person who is considered the authority for all things violent crime-related on base, I am tasked with teaching the local populace the best way to handle a situation where someone has opened fire around you. Beyond the usual “run, hide, fight” stuff you may be familiar with, I have taken the liberty of adding violent crime statistics from the FBI into my training to show the real trend of shootings (it’s going down, regardless of how they screw up the definition). I pushed to have “run, hide, fight” clarified by my chain of command so that people understand that it doesn’t have to be in this order. You must decide what is most advantageous to your survival and follow through.

    I emphasize in my training that the individual must decide how they will behave before being confronted with these dangerous situations. I’ve been given feedback that this has helped people in other situations, not just dangerous ones, where they prepare themselves ahead of time to act and it is easier to follow through later. While this may seem obvious, it is often taken for granted. This is something of a new concept in the world of stopping violent crime (especially the fight part).

    As part of my training, I also began advocating that people carry a firearm whenever possible. In the context of an active shooter scenario, it is very easy to show how modern firearms are a great benefit to the individual. I have gone so far as to push for concealed carry on base (for some reason this is controversial…). A briefing that I gave made its way up and convinced some important people to allow concealed carry in certain circumstances on the installation. It’s a small step in the right direction. This is how I’ve chosen to lead my little corner of the tactical environment based on the libertarian principles of individual responsibility (deciding beforehand) and self-defense.

    You may find that as you place yourself into positions to assist the team at a tactical level, leadership roles will be placed on you because of your ability to stand up and look around to see what needs to be fixed. Someday, that tactical libertarianism may expand to an operational level, or even a strategic level, but it starts right back with the fire team…the small group of individuals we each helped to move forward.

    The point isn’t to propel libertarianism into some political wave to sweep the nation. It isn’t to turn it into some militaristic shadow of its former self. The point is to help your family. It’s to help your community. In doing so, you take part in and enjoy explaining the principles behind what makes it all work, the team building and organization that stems from individuals working together, without government assistance, to prove what they can do. No politician can withstand a principled individual and no government could ever hope to withstand a principled team that is the foundation of a principled community.