Golic and Wingo have read my tweets.
Central Connecticut
Joined May 2008
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Mark Hennessey retweeted
Ceddanne Rafaela:
21 Defensive Runs Saved, 16 Outs Above Average, 16 Fielding Run Value
Cody Bellinger:
20 Defensive Runs Saved, 6 Outs Above Average, 8 Fielding Run Value
Mark Hennessey retweeted
🇺🇸 He was only 23. His airplane became his coffin.
November 5, 1944. Manila Bay, Philippines.
Loyce Edward Deen was a 23-year-old American sailor serving as a turret gunner aboard a TBM Avenger of Torpedo Squadron 15 (VT-15), operating from USS Essex (CV-9).
During an attack against Japanese warships, his Avenger came under intense antiaircraft fire. A shell exploded in the rear turret, killing Deen instantly.
His pilot, Lt. Robert Cosgrove, managed to bring the damaged aircraft back to Essex.
But when the ground crew approached the Avenger, they discovered a terrible sight. Deen was still inside his shattered turret. His injuries were so severe that removing his remains was considered impractical.
The Navy made an extraordinary decision.
After a solemn ceremony on the flight deck, attended by his fellow sailors, the Avenger was pushed overboard with Deen still inside.
His airplane became his coffin.
Loyce Edward Deen is believed to be the only American serviceman of World War II deliberately buried at sea inside his aircraft.
The entire ceremony was captured on film. Eighty-two years later, these images remain deeply moving.
Rest in peace, Loyce. Your sacrifice has not been forgotten.
🎥 Authentic USN footage, November 5, 1944 🇺🇸
Mark Hennessey retweeted
On November 7, 1920, in the strictest secrecy, the bodies of four unidentified British soldiers were exhumed from temporary cemeteries in Ypres, Arras, the Aisne, and the Somme. None of the soldiers who dug up the bodies were told why. The remains were taken to military headquarters at Saint-Pol-sur-Ternoise, France.
There, the bodies were covered with Union Jack flags. A guard was posted, and Brigadier General Wyatt and Colonel Gell randomly selected one of the four fallen soldiers.
The other three bodies were reburied. A French guard of honour was appointed to stand beside the coffin of the chosen soldier throughout the night.
On the morning of November 8, a specially designed oak coffin arrived, made from timber grown in the grounds of Hampton Court Palace. The remains of the Unknown Warrior were placed inside.
A Crusader's sword was mounted on top, along with a shield bearing the inscription:
"A British Warrior who fell in the GREAT WAR 1914–1918 for King and Country."
On November 9, the Unknown Warrior, accompanied by a guard of honour, was transported on a horse-drawn carriage. He was received by Marshal Ferdinand Foch before being taken aboard HMS Verdun for the journey to Dover.
The coffin rested on the deck, covered with wreaths and surrounded by a French guard of honour.
Upon arrival in Dover, the Unknown Warrior was greeted with a nineteen-gun salute — an honour normally reserved for field marshals.
A special train then carried the coffin to Victoria Station in London, where it remained overnight.
On the morning of November 11, 1920, exactly two years after the guns fell silent on the Western Front, the Unknown Warrior was finally taken to Westminster Abbey.
The idea of honouring an unidentified fallen soldier came from a British Army chaplain named David Railton, who had served on the front lines during the Great War.
The Union Jack he had used as an altar cloth during the war was the same flag that covered the coffin.
Railton wanted the families of the hundreds of thousands of servicemen whose remains had never been identified to believe that the Unknown Warrior might be their own lost husband, father, brother, or son.
A man without a name became a symbol of every soldier who never returned home.
A single grave became a place where an entire nation could mourn.
Every year on November 11, Britain remembers the Unknown Warrior and all those who gave their lives in war.
They had names. They had families. They had dreams. They had futures that war took away.
We may never know who lies beneath that stone.
But we know what he represents.
Lest we forget. 🌹
P.S. I'm moving from Twitter/X to Substack. Join me there and follow my work.
mykhailorohoza.substack.com
THE Ohio State University to you!
Reality caught up with them?
And because I am a petty man, I say "GOOD".
I think there are multiple levels of prepping:
1) sensible disaster preparedness
2) being able to function during 90 days of anarchy
3) You are ready to found a dynasty of warlords in a Mad Max world.
4) an unhealthy obsession in which your fallout shelter construction has disturbed the water table.
I think it's a hobby up to level three ...
Mark Hennessey retweeted
A squirrel farting in the bath is the start to the weekend you didn't know you needed.
Mark Hennessey retweeted
Imagine this deer trying to explain this experience to other deer. That deer's friends are NEVER going to believe him about the magic noise fairy he spotted.
Mark Hennessey retweeted
@CCFR_CCDAF Can I get a retweet for the fundraiser? Falling short of my goals this year.
dd.extra-life.org/participan…
youtube.com/watch?v=kNnx4tdz…
Mark Hennessey retweeted
Before he shipped out to Vietnam, a 19-year-old Marine climbed onto a workbench and set a can of beer on a beam high above the garage.
He said he would drink it when he came home.
His name was Marcus Stoddard, and everybody called him Marc. He was a mechanic at Henry's Garage in Port Henry, a small town on Lake Champlain in upstate New York. He loved cars, his motorcycle, and eating his lunch on the garage roof, looking out over the lake.
In August 1968 he enlisted in the Marines. That December, home on leave before his final training, his friends at the garage threw him a little party and handed out beers. Marc didn't open his. He jumped up on the bench and put the Schaefer can on a girder 12 feet up, next to the windows over the lake.
About two months after he arrived in Vietnam, on April 26, 1969, Marc was killed by mortar fire on a hilltop in Quang Tri Province. He was 20.
The garage closed that same year, and the fire department moved into part of the building. Over the years, almost everyone forgot about the beer.
In May 2016, a group of officials toured the old garage to put it on the National Register of Historic Places. A woman from the Henry family remembered something her mother had told her when she was 14: Marc had left his beer up in the rafters. "It might still be there," she said.
They searched the huge, dark building with flashlights for more than an hour. Then one beam of light landed on a faded can, high on a steel girder. The whole group went silent.
It had been waiting for him for 47 years.
It became the strangest war memorial in Port Henry: one unopened beer, for the boy who never came back for it.
Au contraire. They will raise money because they promise to do something.
Then they will raise money because they couldn't do anything because, Trump.
Mark Hennessey retweeted
Um terrorista fortemente armado e equipado com um colete balístico de proteção nível VPAM 6 abriu fogo na praça central de Cracóvia, na Polônia, deixando cinco mortos.
Um policial local, armado apenas com uma pistola, enfrentou o agressor e conseguiu neutralizar a ameaça após efetuar diversos disparos a curtíssima distância. A elevada proteção balística utilizada pelo terrorista dificultou a intervenção.
O policial ficou ferido durante o confronto, mas conseguiu impedir que o ataque continuasse.
Wilyer Abreu, my favorite Venezuelan barber, is pretty good at baseball.
Whole squad in attendance for dad's 3rd Gold Glove. 🥹
ALT Wilyer Abreu smiles as he sits with his three sons, all in suits and matching shoes, smiling with two on his lap and the oldest standing.
ALT Wilyer Abreu smiles and holds a Rawlings Gold glove in one hand and his son in the other. Both are wearing suits as his son looks at the glove.