Courtesy of Joe Cermele, I got to read “Patriots, a novel of Survival in the Coming Collapse,” by James Wesley, Rawles (no, I don’t have a clue why he uses a comma). It is not so much a novel as a series of survival scenarios and lots of information pertaining to same, strung together loosely by a sort of story line. Mr. Comma Rawles is a survivalist, runs a blog (SurvivalBlog.com) which is full of fascinating intel, and, despite his limitations as a writer, has put together a long and very interesting book.

The USA, it seems, has suffered a cataclysmic economic collapse (his description of this will not help you sleep better at night.) and, as Tommy Lee Jones said, “Anarchies will reign!” A group of survivalists who have seen this coming forts up to survive the breakdown of society, and each is required to buy four firearms. They can get whatever else they like, but they have to have these four:

A Ruger 10/22

A Model 1911 (any make) in .45 ACP

A Remington 870 modified for combat

An AR-15 in .223 for the women, or an H&K Model 91 in .308 for the men

So, as Der Tag nears my question to you all is, what would you take to the hills with? It does not have to be four guns, it can be one or two or eight or a crossbow. Let the nominations commence.

(By the way, the book is on sale at Amazon.com for around $10.)

This has absolutely nothing to do with guns, but since many of you have military backgrounds, or an interest in militaria, I thought I’d pass it along because it’s sweet and has a lot of heart. It was told to me by a former Navy aviator (call sign Cobra) who served during the Late Unpleasantness in Vietnam, and the incident took place on the carrier Coral Sea in the Gulf of Tonkin in 1972.

It was a day when heavy seas and horrendous weather made flying almost impossible, and the Coral Sea got all her planes in except an F-8 photo reconnaissance jet. The pilot (I will give him the call sign Fallen Sparrow) was having a bad day, and in rapid succession he got waved off, landed past the catch cables (a bolter, they call it), and had a hook skip. Now he was almost out of fuel so the Coral Sea sent up an A-6 tanker, which gave him a load of fuel, and he tried again.

He got waved off the first time for being too low; the second time for being too high; and on his sixth pass, he slammed the F-8 down on the deck, cut his engines in direct violation of landing procedure, and hooked up. He had made it.

The drill after you land is to turn off your lights, fold your wings, and taxi forward to park. But nothing happened. So the Air Boss (a savage, blood-drinking Commander) got on the horn to Fallen Sparrow, and said:

“You WILL turn off your lights, fold your wings, and taxi forward.”

Nothing.

The Air Boss said, “MISTER, DO YOU COPY ME?”

And from Fallen Sparrow came this reply in a very small, weak voice:

“Boss, do I interrupt you when you’re taking a s**t?