Capitaine Vengeur

I have briefly seen a subliminal picture of a vampire when I received my latest tax form...

An airman character in a French comics is named Curtis Hawke, and in the same way of plane models, you could have a Douglas McDonnell, or a Wolf f***e...

Never heard before of that casualty of war, but I knew that after Dunkirk, the sole large BEF unit who kept on fighting on the Continent was the 51st "Highland" Division, heavily bled on River Somme in June, and who evacuated from Brittany about at that date. I suppose that's why the Scots seem so concerned about that tragedy. RIP

Oh yes, and also this anecdote involving Oswald Boelcke in August 1915, when he dived in a canal, fully clothed, to save the life of a drowning French little boy. The parents said that in peacetime, he would have deserved the Légion d'Honneur, which he found would have been a very funny joke (actually, he got the Prussian Lifesaving Medal). Nice anecdote, emphasizing a very human aspect for a man of legend.

Also in 1916, the bloodiest day ever in the long history of the British Army (overture of the Battle of the Somme, about 60,000 British casualties that day).

I remember that in "Red Baron", I found quite ridiculous the scene with an entire flight of Albatros scouts making a vertical dive at high speed, as it was exactly the thing that would never, never be made with these fragile sesquiplane aircraft. As I don't have the "Flyboys" DVD, I don't remember if there were such scenes with the N17 and the DrI, no divers at all either. Anyway, with all its goofs, "The Blue Max" stays my favourite.

Mr and Mrs Bastardi are having dinner, when Mrs Bastardi suddenly breaks in tears: - Oh Luigi! You haven't said anything special, brought anything special that evening! Have you really forgotten that today is my birthday? How can have you forgotten? - Oh my poor darling! I was so busy at work these last days... Listen, let the plates, we are going out together this night. A friend of mine has told me about an excellent night-club. Mrs Bastardi wants to wear what she thinks to be her nicest dress and jewels, and then the couple goes to the so-vaunted night-club. As soon as they reach the entrance, the bouncer salutes the man: - Good evening, Mr Bastardi. I hope that you'll enjoy the show, as usual... Mrs Bastardi is quite surprised, then worried: - Luigi, he called you by your name. Did you ever come here before? - I swear that no, my darling. This man must have confused. Inside, the waiter immediately comes to them and guide them: - Good evening, Mr Bastardi. Your usual table, I suppose? Just next to the stage. I hope that you'll enjoy the show, as usual... This time, Mrs Bastardi clenches her fists: - Luigi, you lied to me. You have come here before, it's evident. We shall have an explanation together. Mr Bastardi doesn't answer, and soon, the show begins: it's a strip-tease. Mrs Bastardi quickly feels shocked, as it happens to be a full peel-off. And as the stripper puts off her tiny string and makes it turn around her finger, this young girl shouts: - And now for the last piece of cloth! For whom? For whom? And the whole audience chants: - BAS-TAR-DI !! BAS-TAR-DI !! BAS-TAR-DI !! The poor Mrs Bastardi yells in tears and rushes out of the club. As her following husband reaches the street, she's already in a waiting taxi. And when her husband tries to come in to explain, she slaps and scratches him: - Don't! Don't touch me! You liar! You degenerate! You son of a #@*+! I s**t your mouth! I §+!#* your f**king *%! The taxi driver then turns his face towards the couple: - Listen, Mr Bastardi. I can say that together, we have already conveyed a fair amount of rude bitches... But never half as crude and vulgar as that ugly fat old whore!

Kim Il-Sung was the man who led this premeditated for long surprise attack. I wonder what his son is doing by now, I've been heard that he had attained a very interesting job, Our-Genial-Leader-And-Magnificent-Rising-Sun-Comrade-President-Dictator-To-Life or something like that.

As Old Winston Churchill could have said: "The Battle of Britain is over. The Battle of Germany is about to begin.". Sad thing that the referees don't want to hear anything about the use of video. Perfection doesn't exist in that World, neither in that World Cup. I bet that before everything is out, more and more outraged nations will pray to see some individual referees sit by force on standing vuvuzelas.

Oh thank you. We have had riots from the Algerian community in Paris that night, about 20 cars burnt. Some people can't admit they have lost. Really, thank you again.

The end of five years of hope and expectancies for her poor parents. Life, what a valley of misery...

The Blue Cocks are out. At last. They won't s**t their flag any more !:fu2: Minables! Poux! Larves! Etrons! If blue men are The Blues, blue midgets are The Smurfs! Could we really wait any sudden burst of pride yesterday from a gang of street bastards chewing while the Marseillaise is played before the matches? Those mercenaries only act each for his own navel, and for the biggest possible amount of cash they can get. They are no team, and have no other value or goal in life but to pour as many loud and vain proofs of indecent wealth as they can on their otherwise empty shells, thinking that a golden garbage can is no more a garbage can (just the Sarkozy way). Gather the best hearty, self-willed and brave men you can find amongst mercenaries, you get the Foreign Legion; gather the stinkiest scum you can find amongst mercenaries, you get The Blues. When I see how much the country has spent for one single, lucky goal (and for the priceless pleasure to be ridiculed before the eyes of the World, of course), I think that we'd better to rent some goals to Portugal, it would additionally save them from the Euro crisis. Bah, the World Cup has now lost her favorite clowns, other entertainments shall be found. The best we can do with them now, is to search for some organs and muscles worth being salvaged and throw the rest to trash. For the first time since long, I feel so ashamed of my own flag that I could apply tomorrow for the Uzbek nationality! (mm, actually, perhaps not) - Come on, guys, just a burst of pride! - Pride? It's not on my contract. How much more can you give?

The part that would say "Yes, enjoy" is probably the same part that would say "No, bad idea". As it's usually the first part that is targeted in any rude brawl !

Portugal litterally wipes out North Korea: 7-0! Not funny for the poor Comrades... A swift trial for high treason and a bullet are probably still waiting for each of the players and staff members as they will return to Kimland.

I remember "Ace of aces" and "Dambusters" on Amstrad CPC, then "Wings" and "Their finest hour" on Amiga (also a couple of jet sims I don't remember the names), and then gave up until I discovered Il-2. What a shock it was to see how much flight sim had evolved in only a few years!

I'm really fed up with our French team, which is undoubtedly as inactive on the playing ground as she is ridiculously frantic offstage. Our Blues spend most of their time publicly tearing themselves each other, putting the brunt of their faults on those of their partners they don't like, on their coach who doesn't listen to them, on their Federation who doesn't trust them... One player (bad guy Anelka) has been excluded yet for indirect very rude (say, anal) insults towards the coach, reported to the press by an unknown traitor in the team. All other players are searching who it can be. Inconceivable ambiance! Last episode since yesterday: the team is now on strike about training, and violently argue with their Federation delegates, their coach and their training staff (some of those have resigned yet)! I'm definitely sick with this unbalanced gang of capricious overpaid millionaires, and I hope to see them swiftly and shamefully fired out tomorrow, and coming back here humiliated and hiding their pitiful faces under blankets! The sooner we will forget this annus horribilis in soccer, the best it will be...

An anecdote not in the Wiki article. In March 1954, when the Viêtminh launched their attack on Diên Biên Phu and captured three strongpoints within the first three days, the extensive Chinese community in Hanoi bet with odds largely in favor of Giap. The odds completely reversed in favor of the French at the sole news that Bigeard's battalion shall be dropped as reinforcement.For decades, General Bigeard has been in France an old living flag for the pro-military as well as an old living target for the anti-military. Mostly during the 1970s, he has largely inspired common caricatures of the beast paratrooper (Beret, Boots, Balls, Brawl, Beer and Brothel). Nobody else here by now would ever be able to suit such a role. He had always said that he wanted his dead body to be cremated and his ashes to be dropped on Diên Biên Phu, just the way himself had been twice in 1953 and 1954, on the place where he had left so many of his boys. Latest news: it will be made, with the Vietnamese merciful authorization.

Indeed Shotdown, the Spanish people (and Portuguese soldiers also) also made a large part of the dirty work for years (especially dirty work when speaking of guerillas and Zaragoza 1809), and they are nonetheless largely underestimated in the British accounts of the Peninsula War. I think that's a constant at the Iron Duke.

Raised from the ranks, hero in the Free French Forces, most-famed scourge for his ennemies in Indochina and Algeria, key conceptor in counter-insurgency tactics, the most decorated French soldier, General Bigeard has gone yesterday... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcel_Bigeard

Really, I am always amazed to hear the Brits claim Waterloo as a British victory (at best, with some welcome help from other miscellaneous nations). Let's have a closer look to Wellington's Allied army' strengths: 25,000 British from the Isles; 16,000 Hannoverian Germans wearing the King's uniform; 10,000 other Germans from Brunswick or Nassau; 17,000 Dutch and Belgians. Don't forget the about 53,000 oncoming Prussian (not Austrian!) reinforcements that could reach the battlefield before dusk on the French right flank and decide the fate of the day. Add the fact the if Blücher, commander of the Prussian army, hadn't confirmed that he would keep on fighting in spite of having been defeated two days before, all the Iron Duke would have done would have certainly been a splendid Dunkirk-style re-embarkation, letting his Allies on the Continent take care for themselves. Add all that data, and Waterloo would rather be called a German victory. Well, at least, just call it a French disaster rather than a British triumph. I usually prefer to remember another June 18, 1429, when Joan of Arc's captains blasted John Fastolf's English army at the battle of Patay (100 casualties to 2500, a reversed Agincourt). Perhaps am I some chauvinist? "Nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won." (Wellington on the battlefield of Waterloo)

His home village was named Bouy (birthplace of my family), which happens to be an available airfield in OFF (East of Rheims). Several world records in flight duration or range were broken in 1908-1910 from that field, located next to a military camp, mainly by Farman planes. It is said that it's at the age of 6 that my grand-uncle felt in love with aviation, seeing these incredible flying birdcages. Accidentally, his own fate was to die flying a Farman plane. Next time you will fly a mission from or over Bouy airfield, have a thought for him. "The mail must pass" (motto of the Aéropostale)

The USAF still misses his panache and his moustache. Irreplaceable. :salute:

This looooong post (sorry!) is intended to commemorate the week, June 13 to 19, 1930, when my grand-uncle accidentally became a legend in the history of aviation. Henri Guillaumet, his name was, was a pioneer of the French Aéropostale (Air Mail service). Flying old Bréguet 14, he had opened many commercial routes during the late 1920s over hostile Saharian Africa. Later in 1929, flying Latécoère 25 or Potez 25, he was entrusted one of the most hazardous route of the whole South American continent: Buenos Aires – Santiago de Chile, across the Andes (a route just opened by his colleague and friend, the fearless Jean Mermoz). But he soon learnt through own experience the best tricks to safely cross the Cordillera about twice each week (using updrafts that he called "Taking the lift", then cruising at 7000 m. alt. without radio, heating, or oxygen). On Friday 13 (sic!), June 1930, entering Southern winter, Guillaumet was flying his 92nd mission across the Andes for the Company (Santiago de Chile –> Mendoza, Argentina). Trapped for hours by violent winds and running out of fuel, he had to emergency-land his Potez 25 next to a frozen mountain lake (Laguna Diamante, 3288 m. alt.). For two days, he waited in his overturned plane for the blizzard to die down, sheltered under mailbags. Then, having seen aircraft passing over without seeing him, he let a farewell message in the wreckage, and began his journey East across the snowy and windy mountains, without any food and without any other protection than his leather coat against a temperature under -30 °C (-22 °F). He walked for four days and four nights long, crossing three passes, without sleeping, or even pausing for more than some minutes to avoid freezing on the spot. On day 4, he heard a rooster singing far away. On the morning of day 5, June 19, he finally could escape "the White Hell" and reach the nearest inhabited valley, falling exhausted some dozens meters away to the first hut. The frightened local Argentinian Indian shepherds he met first couldn't believe that the mountain in winter could give back a man still alive: "Es imposible!". After all, his face was so burnt by ice-reflection, his shaking bare hands so black with frostbite, that he barely looked human. There he learnt that he had already been considered as lost. During his whole martyrdom walk, Henri Guillaumet behaved not as a poor wreck declined to the Age of Ice and struggling only for his own survival, but as a Man carrying the legacies and duties of Evolution on his sole shoulders, through the icy wilderness and against all odds – and himself carried by this exclusively human gift whose name is Hope. While recovering, he said with the pride of Man to his colleague and friend, the writer Antoine de St-Exupéry: "What I have done, I swear to you, no animal would have ever done it." St-Exupéry also reported these quotes: "My friends, if they believe I'm still alive, believe that I'm walking. My wife believes that I'm walking. I'm a bastard if I don't walk." and "What saves you is to take a step, and another one. It is always the same step with which you restart." In spite of having lost his gloves, this incredibly mighty force didn't even lose a phalanx or toe to frost in this adventure. This feat has been portrayed in Jean-Jacques Annaud's "Wings of Courage" (1995, the first 3D-Imax fiction movie ever), with my grand-uncle interpreted by Craig Sheffer as the main character (and Val Kilmer as Jean Mermoz). The plane and mailbags were eventually recovered in summer (December 1930). Many envelopes still exist at some collectors, displaying the delay stamp. The five French Potez 25 allocated to the Andes crossings were later given to the Aeroposta Argentina, who used one of them at least until 1967! One of the Argentinian passes Henri Guillaumet had crossed, and her associated needle, were named after him: Paso Guillaumet and Aguja Guillaumet. After this accident, Guillaumet, now nicknamed "The Angel of the Cordillera", flew 301 more missions across the Andes. In July 1939, now working for Air France, he also broke a record of distance over North Atlantic on a six-engined flying boat Latécoère 521 (New York –> Biscarosse, 5875 kms without stops, including 2300 kms with one motor less). On November 27, 1940, Henri Guillaumet conveyed from Marseilles the new Vichy French prefect for Syria. His four-engined Farman never reached Beirut, his radioman's last message reporting that they were under attack and taking damage. My grand-uncle was very unlucky about the route and date, for on the same day, a minor aeronaval battle occured off Sardinia between the British and Italian Navies (Battle of Cape Teulada). Although his death was first and is still commonly credited to the Italians, it is now sometimes believed that a British FAA pilot could have shot him down after seeing his Vichy French roundels, fearing that this evil Axis puppet hidden under neutral markings could report the position of the British fleet. Aged 38, he would have deserved a different and later end. He was a great airman, and a great man.

France had very uneven performances these last years: not qualified in 1994, winner in 1998, fired out at first shots in 2002, semifinalist in 2006... If we stay on the same logical curse, we shall be ridiculous this year and awesome in 2016. It's amazing that here, we can't do anything good without a good kick in the butt for some times!