CRISIS A note from LawDog, a reaction to recent events:


This too shall pass.
I don't have a link for this, though it may be on his blog. It was posted as is on MeWe.


A note from LawDog, a reaction to recent events:

My little brother was born in Tripoli, Libya in 1969. September of that year, Gaddafi took control. One of his first pronouncements was that all foreigners needed to leave. Corollary to that was that all children born in Libya were Libyan citizens, and would remain there.
The American Embassy informed us that they were "working on a diplomatic solution" and to be patient.

Dad hired a dhow, and crew, and we got back to Malta. We got a parting gift from the Libyans in the form of several hundred rounds through the hull -- I was two years old.

August 15, 1971. We were in Malta. We woke up to discover that President Nixon had "floated the dollar". I remember picturing a man with a Lincoln beard standing on a dock, throwing dollar bills into the water. Unfortunately, this meant that our US bank account was worthless in Malta. Dad was somewhere in North Africa, and I remember the exhaustion of being dragged all over the island after Mom took us to the US Embassy and was told that "things were fluid" and they'd try to help when things stabilized. It was after dark before Mm found a store that took mercy on a mother with two small children and took American Express traveller's cheques at face value for food. The Embassy never did get back to us, even after things "stabilized".

  1. More rounds went through General Murtala Mohammed (and his driver) than the last four James Bond movies. Unfortunately, the rebelling soldiers miscalculated, and the counter-coup by the Army was ... enthusiastic. As this wasn't our first rodeo, as soon as Murtala quit bouncing we loaded up the Land Cruiser, and headed for Port Harcourt, where an oil rig supply vessel was waiting.
Three stewardesses who were visiting their engineer boy-friends headed for the American Consulate in Lagos. Two of them made it back, after being informed that they needed to go to the aeroport and get out of the country. The Nigerian Army had locked down the aeroport, and had twitchy trigger fingers. I sat in the lap of one of the stewardesses on the road to Port Harcourt, and she didn't stop crying and shaking.

The were more evacs from African countries, and from a couple of Middle Eastern places, but we never approached the US Embassy for help again.

Even later, as a man grown and feral, I knew better than to rely on the Government for help.

Adrenaline and fear add a metallic odour to sweat. Blood is coppery. Someone inevitably loses control of their bladder and/or bowels, but that smell is actually not as bad as the smell of blood and terror.

There's always dust. And some jackass always sets something on fire, so the smoke coats your mouth, and hangs in your nose.

Then there's the smell of smokeless powder. And burnt bodies. That's a smell that sticks in your nose for a while, but it's not as bad as the smell that comes later, when the bodies have been out for a while.

People get together, huddling out of fear and uncertainty into a big herd of panicky people. Locals herd with locals. Foreigners with foreigners. And once they herd up, the scavengers show up and start picking off the weak.

One will have a brother who knows a way through the jungle, or around the military patrols. It only costs you most of your savings, and as soon as you get out in the boonies, it's a rifle butt in the teeth and the rest of your savings taken. If you're lucky. If not, it's a bullet and a ditch, and they take the savings off of your body.

If you're a man. Women quickly find out that as soon as things went into the khazi, they go from "person" to "commodity". And that's all I'm going to say about that.

As bad as all that is -- and it's way worse than you think -- that isn't the part that's going to give me nightmares.

Absent sheer bad luck, a smart, prepared, violent man will survive this sort of thing.

And that's going to give me nightmares.

The President of the United States. the Joints Chiefs of Staff, and the entire State Department can go **** themselves right now.

Anyone who voted to put that muppet in the Oval Office can go **** themselves right now.

I'm headed for the bourbon, and I'm going to hope like **** I don't have nightmares.


This too shall pass.
He still does regular livestreams, along with Peter Grant. (Actually had my oldest daughter as a guest on one, a few weeks ago.)



Has No Life - Lives on TB
FWIW, decomposing humans don't smell any different than decomposing animals. Perhaps it's been decades of Marlboros, decompression chambers and other abuse of my olfactory senses, but I could never tell any difference and I'm not sure that I want to be a decomposition connoisseur in any case.

From the OP: "Absent sheer bad luck, a smart, prepared, violent man will survive this sort of thing. And that's going to give me nightmares."

Most Westerners - and especially women - have a strong aversion to killing. Studies have proven that even in warfare, very few soldiers actually aim at and shoot other human beings. Survivors need to overcome this aversion and be prepared to kill. Not to parlay, not to discuss issues, not to make a new friend, but to kill. To kill quickly and dispassionately. I don't know how to give anyone this ability. Maybe think of it as a video game.

From the OP: "Women quickly find out that as soon as things went into the khazi, they go from "person" to "commodity". And that's all I'm going to say about that."

Few Americans, and especially American women, have any idea of how different gender paradigms are in most third world regions. If you're a White woman it's worse because many non-White peoples harbor an anti-White animus, which they are happy to act out sexually. Even in South Africa's "good" days when I was there, there were often cases of unlucky or stupid White women raped (and often tortured and killed) by Africans. Some of these stories would stand your hair on end.

This is true in many parts of the world. The sociology courses your took in college will not serve you well.

From the OP: "The Nigerian Army had locked down the aeroport, and had twitchy trigger fingers."

The twitchy trigger finger deal seems common amongst third world soldiers and guerillas. They don't have the fire discipline of Western soldiers and God help you if you come out on the short end of a firefight. Survivors will often wish they weren't.

This was a very good piece.



Non Solum Simul Stare
I don't know how to give anyone this ability.

From my experience, you wont know until your first firefight. Its why we always watched the new guys. Some freeze, some lose control and mag dump, some aim to miss, others enjoy the thrill of pinnacle competition. After that, assuming you're lucky or have good friends, it wears off. And you will harden up.

As General Patton said in his famous speech:

"Now, some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken-out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. The Nazis are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood. Shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do."

If you havent heard his "America Loves a Winner", I highly suggest it

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