“We have been trekking hard all these last days. Heat and dust terrible… We got in a wood and were
surrounded by Germans. The Germans are very fond of wood fighting and
detail snipers to get up trees. We lost considerably including nine
officers.” Letter from Lt. Neville Woodroffe during the Mons Retreat, 1914.
Snipers can trace their lineage to hunters who began using rifled firearms that could fire accurately at longer rangers. In the North American colonies, settlers adapted the rifle to warfare, and riflemen were used as snipers by both sides during the American Revolutionary War, and by the British in the Napoleonic Wars. During the Second Boer War, Boer marksman with accurate Mauser rifles took a heavy toll on regular British forces. In response, the British formed the first professional unit of trained snipers, the Lovat Scouts, using telescopic rifles and wearing camouflage suits. Their commander said of them that they were “half wolf and half jackrabbit.“
A British officer shoots from a camouflaged position.
The trench warfare of the First World War suited the sniper perfectly. At the beginning of the war, sniping was an amateur affair, practiced mostly by officers used to hunting from before the war. Armed with personal hunting rifles, sharpshooters spent their spare time trying to pick off enemy soldiers. Only the Imperial German Army issued out telescopic sites, and soon the trained German snipers developed a fearsome reputation in the Entente armies.
In response, the British and French set about professionalizing their own marksmen. Big-game hunters like Hesketh Hesketh-Prichard worked hard to develop sniper tactics to counter the Germans. All armies set up training schools, and following in the Germans’ wake the British and French began issuing standard-issue scoped rifles. Optics underwent significant development; a major example was the “periscope” rifle that used sloped mirrors to allow soldiers to fire without revealing themselves above the trench parapet.
A British soldier at Gallipoli tries to lure Turkish snipers into firing; his friends don’t seem amused.
As snipers improved in quality, the danger they posed increased. Working in pairs, snipers were expected to memorize the layout of the land in front of them, noticing any subtle change. They wore camouflage and shot from disguised or armored positions to remain safe themselves while they watched for any sudden enemy movement. Even a man who exposed himself for a fraction of a second might become a casualty. The most valuable targets were officers, signalers trying to lay communication lines, and soldiers bringing up rations from field kitchens.
A camouflaged British marksman next to a fake tree he used as a platform.
The sniper war became a daily feature of life on the front line. Soldiers developed methods to cope. Robert Graves remembered being troubled by one particular German sniper, but he found a response: “Later we secured an elephant-gun that could send a bullet through enemy
loopholes and if we failed to locate the loop-hole of a persistent
sniper, we tried to dislodge him with a volley of rifle-grenades, or
even by ringing up the artillery.”
The randomness of death scared troops. It even created one superstition - never light a cigarette three times from the same match. “The sniper sees the first light, he hones in on the second, and when he sees the third he takes the shot.”
Anzac troops use a periscope rifle on Gallipoli.
Soldiers hated snipers and a captured one could expect no mercy. Nevertheless, sniping had a mental toll of its own. Some treated it like hunting, but others were disturbed by its oddly personal nature. R. A. Chell remembered feeling so during his first try at it:
“After about fifteen minutes quiet watching - with my rifle in a ready
position - I saw a capless bald head come up behind the plate. The day
was bright and clear and I hadn’t the slightest difficulty in taking a
most deliberate aim at the very centre of that bright and shiny plate -
but somehow I couldn’t press the trigger: to shoot such a ‘sitter’ so
deliberately in cold blood required more real courage than I possessed.
After a good look round he went down and I argued with myself about my
duty. My bald-headed opponent had been given a very sporting chance and
if he were fool enough to come up again I must shoot him unflinchingly. I
considered it my duty to be absolutely ready for that contingency.
After about two minutes he came up again with added boldness and I did
my duty. I had been a marksman before the war and so had no doubt about
the instantaneousness of that man’s death. I felt funny for days and the
shooting of another German at 'stand-to’ the next morning did nothing
to remove those horrid feelings I had.”
An Open Letter to Tomi Lahren, Commentator on TheBlaze, After Her Interview On The Daily Show
First off I gotta know who does your hair, Like, your ends are looking a little crispy, get some conditioner on there and leave it in for like fifteen minutes, but that platinum blonde is an amazing color, seriously, so I can get your stylist’s number?
Second, I wanted to say I felt sorry for you when the audience booed you, when you stepped into the lion’s den and they growled and roared at such a simple catechism: “I don’t see color.” “No, I’m not mainstream.” “Did you know that a black man is 18.5 times more likely to shoot a police officer than a police officer is to shoot a black man?” I mean you’re repellent, and also wrong, and also lying, so I wanted to say I felt sorry for you when the audience booed you, when you refused to be quiet, well-behaved women seldom make history and all, but girl. Oh, you didn’t stop there. Oh, you had to say “I don’t protest my country. I’m not a victim.” Oh, you had to say “I’m a Millennial, I don’t like labels” –that doesn’t have anything to do with the rest of this it’s just obnoxious– Oh, you had to say Black Lives Matter is the new KKK Oh, you had to say “Hillary could use some touching, right? Bill’s a little busy~” Oh you had to say Oh you had to say Oh say Oh say Oh say can you see by the dawn’s early light that I may not be a football star but I am kneeling, too, and also flipping you off, because
fuck you, lady.
When girls like me in combat boots and bookworm glasses say “I’m not like the Other Girls,” normally I hate that – I have known too many women to write them all off as Other like that – but you motherfucking Other Girl you make me forget what sisterhood tastes like. You re-shared, re-tweeted right-wing re-boot, all civil and spice and isn’t this nice when you talk to an actual black man, like your voice isn’t a shotgun when it’s just you and the camera and your Final Thoughts. You Queen Bee, you are so smart, smart as paint and twice as suffocating, I can feel my throat closing up when you speak because for a second I believe you, because for a second I am thirteen and want you to think I’m cool. Because for a second I can see the future and it really does look like you stamping on a human face, “shut up and say thank you” in one hand and “I’m just criticizing” in the other, all ablaze in righteousness and haloed in red, patron saint of hypocrisy and the alt ernative media because apparently you don’t want to be associated with the term “alt-right” even if the blind taste test can’t tell the difference between your criticism and their Kampf.
So I won’t Godwin’s Law this poem and call you a Nazi.
I will call you Vichy instead, I’ll call you Riefenstahl. I’ll call you Coco Chanel and collaborationist, you beauty, you brains, you profiteer. And I’ll call your stylist. I hear your brand of blonde is the new black– no, sorry, that’s the new KKK– no, sorry, that’s the new media– no, sorry, I forgot what we were talking about– I just want to know what bleach made you so bright and if the solution to our protests is as final as your Thoughts.
This Saturday meet us in the streets with the Street Groomers, Black Lives Matter Atlanta, ATL is READY, and Solutions Not Punishment Coalition - SNaP Co. at English Park and march with the family of DeAudre “Dre Dre” Phillips!
About DeAundre “Dre Dre” Phillips:
On Thursday night, January 26, DeAundre Phillips, a 24-yr-old, Black father, was shot and killed by the Atlanta police. According to the Atlanta Police Department, the two plain clothes detectives involved in the murder of Phillips, approached him after allegedly smelling the scent of “marijaunna” coming from the inside of his car. After Phillips allegegly attempted to flee the scene, the officer fired a fatal shot into Phillip’s neck.
What are we are marching for?
We are demanding that the Atlanta Police Cheif:
1) release the names of the officers involved in the shooting and 2) release all survelliance footage of DeAundre’s murder. DeAundre’s family deserves answers!
In American slang, the phrase “going postal” means flying into an uncontrollable rage at work. It’s likely many of us have had moments where we’ve felt like this, but the origins of this saying are a lot darker than you’d expect.
In 1986, a post office worker by the name of Patrick Sherrill shot 20 of his post office co-workers, killing 14 of them and drastically injuring the rest. He then ended the rampage by fatally shooting himself in the forehead.
As is the norm with most rampages, the perpetrator’s motives are unclear and shrouded in rumour. Sherrill said he felt ridiculed and berated by the post office management. He was constantly being messed around and given less hours than his co-workers, which made him angry. Other sources claim that he was an irritable worker who was under performing due to his poor attitude. Records show that he was reprimanded by his supervisors on the day before the shooting, so it’s likely that the bitterness he felt over this caused him to ultimately snap and take so many lives with him.
So next time you’re mad at work and feel like “going postal”, just remember Sherrill’s massacre at the Edmond Post Office on the morning of August 20th, 1986, and take some relief in knowing that you won’t go that postal.
Merry Christmas, mysliceoffun!I hope you enjoy this fic!
Title: Holiday Hideaway Rating: Teen Word Count: 5,880
When Stiles makes a daring escape from his office holiday party, he runs into Derek Hale, the scorchingly attractive coworker he’s never managed to work up the nerve to talk to. Outside of the office, Derek seems less intimidating, especially when he’s sitting on a park bench petting dogs.
Maybe Stiles will finally have the chance to come up with something clever to say to him. Like…well, why doesn’t he just start with “hi”?
Stiles made it through approximately five minutes of the office holiday party before shooting frantic glances at possible exit routes. Blocked. Every last one of them, by clumps of coworkers who would probably notice if he barrel-rolled onto the floor and under a desk for the duration.
His dreams of escaping dashed, he reluctantly entered the potluck line, slotted between Bobby from Sales and Daphne from HR, who had glared at him in the elevator that morning, as though she’d never seen him before in her life. Nevermind that he’d been working there for three years and had most assuredly spoken to her on several occasions. Including when she’d walked him through his initial hiring paperwork.
In Chicago, where a city task force appointed by Mayor Rahm Emanuelconcluded that.
‘the police have no regard for the sanctity of life when it comes to people of color,'
the Justice Department is rushing to wrap up a sweeping investigation into police patterns and practices, prompted by the release of a chilling video that showed a white officer shooting a black teenager.
The USFG has ruled that police can shoot a dog for so much as barking or moving when a house is being raided. We want to change the law to say that the officer can only shoot if the dog makes an advancement that could possibly harm the officer.
Black lives matter has been something that has been bouncing around on this site for a while now. It has mainly been focused in the US but has now started to appear over here in the UK for some unknown reason.
I really don’t understand this mindset of rioting and looting to get a point across. You do yourself no favours. People are less likely to sympathise with you. People are going to distance themselves from the who notion of it. You moan that you are being “harassed” by police. But when you are burning, rioting and looting of course they are going to be looking at you more closely. It’s common fucking sense. It amazes me that some of you wonder why people don’t support you as much as they may have done before.
What happened in Dallas with the shooting of the police officers who were there peaceful at a “peaceful” protest. Now I know some of you are going to claim he wasn’t with BLM. But when y'all are coming out and supporting him, you aren’t helping yourselves.
Black lives don’t matter to black lives matter. All you see constantly is protests and uproar when a black person is killed by police for either brandishing a weapon and refusing to comply. It doesn’t matter whether you’re black,white, Asian etc.
You point a weapon at a police officer, they will shoot you. But it is always criminals you are protesting and rioting about. Never the poor black children who are caught in the crossfire on black on black crime.
Focus on that rather than focusing on a police officer who is doing his job and trying to keep the streets safe so your children can walk to school without the fear of being shot by some gang banger.
One final point. This whole “can’t be racist to white people” bullshit needs to stop. It is idiotic and simply incorrect. Instead of turning everyone into an enemy. Try and little compassion for once! Yes black lives do matter. But so do white lives and Latino lives and Asian lives etc etc etc…
CHARLESTON, S.C. (AP) — Testimony in the trial of a white former South Carolina police officer in the shooting death of an unarmed black motorist is raising the questions about how much force is justified.