This Is What I Think.

Saturday, May 07, 2016

In Harm's Way (1965)




I clearly have no idea of the last time I watched this movie. I have referred often to the dialog as though the film was familiar to my mind but watching it today clearly I was mistaken. I write now with the video paused at the 39 minute point and I visualize later scenes I feel certain I am correct about.

I wish I could watch more than five minutes of this video without HAVING TO STOP AND WORK FOR MORE THAN TWO HOURS ON THIS POINTLESS NOTE!!!










http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/i/in-harms-way-script-transcript.html

In Harm's Way


Sir, are we just looking for subs
or planes, too?
Anything, son.
There's a formation of planes
north of the island, sir.
The pilots are up early
for squadron exercises.
Strange place to rendezvous.
Why aren't they over Diamond Head?
There's a formation
off Diamond Head, too.
I don't like it, Paul.
Sound General Quarters.





http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/i/in-harms-way-script-transcript.html

In Harm's Way


General Quarters.
All hands man your battle stations.
On deck.
Attention to colours.
Bridge. Aye, aye.
Mr McConnel?
- McConnel.
- We're getting some funny signals.
It sounds like plane-to-plane chatter,
in Japanese.
- Japs!
- What?










JOURNAL ARCHIVE: Posted by H.V.O.M at 12:40 PM Tuesday, August 23, 2011


Sometime during the 10 AM hour here in Pacific Time on the West Coast I was hit by a very painful muscle cramp in my lower leg. I cannot remember the last time that happened but I remember such a detail because I would sometimes wake up with muscle cramps in my legs when I used to get regular exercise, now many years ago.

The pain eased after I stood up and put some weight on my left but I can still feel the effects in the muscle of my lower leg.

I thought about this scene when the pain hit me. Why that would matter and why that would cause me to have such pain in my leg is really no crazier than a lot of other stuff that happens around me on a regular basis.

Not until this noon hour here in Pacific Time did I read about that east coast earthquake that happened at 10:51 AM in Pacific time and 1:51 PM east coast time.


[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 23 August 2011 excerpt ends]



































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http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/i/in-harms-way-script-transcript.html

In Harm's Way


- Doctor?
- Yes.
A -month-old fracture, some infection.
The X-rays will be along shortly.
Thank you. Sit down, Captain.



































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http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0059309/releaseinfo

IMDb


In Harm's Way (1965)

Release Info

USA 6 April 1965



http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0059309/fullcredits

IMDb

In Harm's Way (1965)

Full Cast & Crew

John Wayne ... Captain Rockwell 'Rock' Torrey










http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0059309/fullcredits

IMDb

In Harm's Way (1965)

Full Cast & Crew

Burgess Meredith ... Commander Egan Powell













https://www.google.com/maps/@40.7121849,-89.268092,3a,15y,45.04h,87.93t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sSUxu1cMaj94cwKexIlH1Kg!2e0!7i13312!8i6656

Google Maps


Reagan Dr

Eureka, Illinois










1960 film "The Time Machine" DVD video:

00:41:33


Filby: That's the last alert! Hurry! Hurry!

H. George Wells: Listen - listen, this is important.

Filby: Look. An atomic satellite zeroing in. That's important. Come on! Come on!

H. George Wells: But I've got to talk to you!



































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http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0059309/quotes

IMDb


In Harm's Way (1965)

Quotes


Captain Rockwell Torrey: What is Vicki Marlowe's secret?

Commander Egan Powell: Well, it's not what it says in here. Vicki Marlowe's secret is that she's making a half a million bucks a year and she still collects alimony from me, in my present reduced circumstances. Well, anyway... I have the satisfaction of knowing that all of her pictures have been stinkers since I stopped writing them. Rockwell, my boy, never, I repeat never marry a movie actress.










http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088763/quotes

IMDb


Back to the Future (1985)

Quotes


[Dr. Emmett Brown is doubting Marty McFly's story about that he is from the future]

Dr. Emmett Brown: Then tell me, future boy, who's President of the United States in 1985?

Marty McFly: Ronald Reagan.

Dr. Emmett Brown: Ronald Reagan? The actor?

[chuckles in disbelief]

Dr. Emmett Brown: Then who's vice president? Jerry Lewis?

[rushing out and down a hill toward his laboratory]

Dr. Emmett Brown: I suppose Jane Wyman is the First Lady!

Marty McFly: [following Doc] Whoa. Wait, Doc!










http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/i/in-harms-way-script-transcript.html

In Harm's Way


I expect we'll both take what they give us
and trust it'll be a useful job.
Yes, sir.
- Good luck.
- Good luck to you, sir.
If I haven't got him, maybe he's still alive.
It must be a mistake,
he was clever...










http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0091499/quotes

IMDb


Maximum Overdrive (1986)

Quotes


Wanda June: You can't! WE MADE YOU!










http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/i/in-harms-way-script-transcript.html

In Harm's Way


Comb, compact...
- The child can't be lost...
- Two rings... purse.
- Maybe the police know where he is.
- Sign here.
He was my only boy,
and I love him so much.
- Won't you do something for me?
- This way for identification.
- Go back to the police.
- I want you to help me.
- Lady...
- He was my only boy.
You don't have a boy!
Disposition?
What do you want to do?
- I'll send someone.
- Thank you.
And the man she was brought in with?
Army Air Force claimed the body
a couple of days ago.










http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0059309/quotes

IMDb


In Harm's Way (1965)

Quotes


Nurse Lieutenant Maggie Haynes: How do admirals feel about nurses?

Rear Admiral Rock Torrey: The same way captains did.










From 6/15/1946 ( Harry Truman - Letter to the Secretaries of War and Navy on Unification of the Armed Forces ) To 11/15/1993 is 17320 days

17320 = 8660 + 8660

From 11/2/1965 ( my birth date in Antlers Oklahoma USA and my birthdate as the known official United States Marshal Kerry Wayne Burgess and active duty United States Marine Corps officer ) To 7/19/1989 ( Bill Gates-Microsoft-George Bush kills 111 passengers and crew of United Airlines Flight 232 and destroys the United Airlines Flight 232 aircraft because I was a passenger of United Airlines Flight 232 as United States Navy Petty Officer Second Class Kerry Wayne Burgess and I was assigned to maintain custody of a non-violent offender military prisoner of the United States ) is 8660 days



[ See also: http://hvom.blogspot.com/2016/04/sts-58.html ]


http://www.nvr.navy.mil/nvrships/details/CG28.htm

NVR

Naval Vessel Register

WAINWRIGHT (CG 28)
GUIDED MISSILE CRUISER
Class: CG 26
Status: Disposed of in support of Fleet training exercise

Award Date: 05/18/1961
Keel Date: 07/02/1962
Launch Date: 04/25/1964
Commission Date: 01/08/1966
Decommission Date: 11/15/1993










http://www.azlyrics.com/s/sundays.html

AZ

THE SUNDAYS

album: "Reading, Writing, And Arithmetic" (1990)


http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/sundays/ikickedaboy.html

AZ


THE SUNDAYS

"I Kicked A Boy"

When the weather's fine, when it's sunny outside
Think about the time I kicked a boy 'til he cried
Oh, I could've been wrong, but I don't think I was
He's such a child

When I am alone, I remember so well
How merrily I tripped a boy so he fell
Oh I could've been wrong, but I don't think I was
He's totally wild

And I've been wondering lately just who's gonna save me

Now I have a cold, and no story to tell
I'd marry you but I'm so unwell
And I could've been wrong
Well I don't think I was
He's totally wild

And I've been wondering lately
Just who's gonna save me
Yes, you should've been wise
Oh, hysterical child
Where'd you learn to do that










http://www.tv.com/shows/star-trek-voyager/timeless-10739/

tv.com


Star Trek: Voyager Season 5 Episode 6

Timeless

Aired Wednesday 8:00 PM Nov 18, 1998 on UPN

AIRED: 11/18/98



http://www.chakoteya.net/Voyager/507.htm

Timeless [ Star Trek: Voyager ]

Stardate: 52143.6

Original Airdate: 18 November 1998


[2390 Delta Flyer]

TESSA: They're hailing us. You want to talk to them?

CHAKOTAY: Could buy us some time. Open a channel.

LAFORGE [on monitor]: This is Captain La Forge of the Starship Challenger. You seem to be in quite a hurry.

(Geordi is in a DS9 style uniform with an All Good Things comm.badge. He doesn't wear the VISOR any more, either.)

CHAKOTAY: You could say that.

LAFORGE [on monitor]: Why don't you shut down those impulse engines, drop your shields. Let's talk about this face-to-face.

CHAKOTAY: Mind if I take a rain check?

LAFORGE [on monitor]: As a matter of fact, I do. We know what you're about to attempt and we can't let that happen, so the Federation Council is willing to make you an offer. Hand over the Borg transmitter, stand down your vessel, and the charges of conspiracy will be dropped.

TESSA: That's not much of an offer. If we succeed, those charges will never have existed in the first place.

LAFORGE [on monitor]: If you succeed, countless lives will be affected.

CHAKOTAY: We're here to save one hundred and fifty lives. Our crew.

LAFORGE [on monitor]: I understand and I might be doing the same thing if I were in your position, but I've got my own crew to protect, not to mention fifteen years of history. So, I'm asking you again. Stand down, and return the transmitter.

CHAKOTAY: You know I can't do that.

LAFORGE [on monitor]: And you know I have to try to stop you.

CHAKOTAY: Yes, I know. Good luck.

LAFORGE [on monitor]: Same to you.










http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0086837/quotes

IMDb


2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984)

Quotes


Walter Curnow: This is pretty sweet... Non-conducting blade, so there won't be any short-circuits when you trigger it... Where's the remote control?

Heywood Floyd: If I trigger it. The control's in my compartment. Little red calculator? You've seen it. You put in nine '9s'. Take the square root, and then hit 'Integer.' In an emergency, even you could do it.

Walter Curnow: What kind of emergency?

Heywood Floyd: Well if I knew that, I wouldn't need this stupid thing now, would I?

[holds up the device]

Walter Curnow: Y'know, Chandra'd have kittens if he found out.

Heywood Floyd: Yeah. But he isn't gonna find out, is he.










http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/inatl/longterm/fogofwar/index/crusade.htm

Washington Post


Crusade

The Untold Story of the Persian Gulf War

By Rick Atkinson

Houghton Mifflin Company, 520pp. $16

Chapter One: First Night

U.S.S. Wisconsin, Persian Gulf

Dark tubes of water peeled back from the battleship's prow, curling along her hull before fanning symmetrically east and west toward the horizons. Watchstanders on the bridge peered fore and aft, checking the navigation lights of the other warships sailing with her at six-mile separations: red to port, green to starboard. Overhead, stars jammed the moonless sky with such intensity that they seemed to hang just beyond the upper poke of Wisconsin's superstructure.

The crew stood at general quarters. Earlier in the day -- Wednesday, January 16, 1991 -- they had scrubbed the teak deck, scoured the gutters, polished the brass fittings, and swept the corridors. Under Condition Zebra, all watertight doors were latched shut. In the officers' mess, seamen had lifted the ship's silver punch bowl from a glass display case and stowed it in a wooden crate. Even the trash was collected, the bags then punched with holes -- so that they would sink and not be mistaken for mines -- and heaved overboard. Over the public address system, the Roman Catholic chaplain absolved the crew of sin, then hurried to his office for a box of plastic rosaries and a flask of oil to use in anointing the dying. Now Wisconsin waited for war with dreadnought forbearance, silent except for the throb of her four great screws turning beneath the fantail.

Below decks, in the soft blue light of the ship's Strike Warfare Center, thirty men prepared the battleship for combat. In contrast to the tranquillity above, tension filled the crowded room. Electronic warfare specialists listened on their headsets for the telltale emissions of attacking enemy aircraft or missiles. Other sailors manned the radios, the computer consoles controlling Wisconsin's Harpoon antiship missiles, and a dozen other battle stations. A large video screen overhead displayed the radar blips of vessels crossing the central gulf; a smaller screen showed the charted positions of Wisconsin and her sister ships, plotted and replotted by a navigation team.

In the center of Strike the battleship's skipper, Captain David S. Bill, perched in his high-backed padded chair. Although he occasionally glanced at the screens above, the captain's attention was largely fixed on the men clustered around four computers lining the far bulkhead. Something had gone awry with the ship's Tomahawk missile system.

Lieutenant Guy Zanti, Wisconsin's missile officer, leaned over a crewman sitting at one of the consoles. "The launch side still won't accept the data," the sailor said glumly. He tapped his keyboard and pointed to the green message that popped onto the monitor. "See, it says `inventory error.'" Zanti nodded, his forehead furrowed in concentration. Now not only Captain Bill but everyone else in Strike turned to watch the lieutenant and his missile crew.

For nearly six months, Wisconsin had prepared for this moment. Five days after the invasion of Kuwait, she had weighed anchor from Norfolk, Virginia, quickly steaming through the Straits of Gibraltar and the Suez Canal to arrive on station off the Saudi coast on August 24. As Gulf Papa, the coordinator of Tomahawk launches from the Persian Gulf, Wisconsin was responsible for the seven warships that would shoot an initial salvo of four dozen missiles from the gulf. The targets and their ten-digit authorization codes had arrived with a tinkling of teletype bells just after sunset on January 16. A half-dozen officers and crewmen spent the evening drafting instructions for the other shooters, carefully choreographing their movements so that each ship would steam into the proper launch basket at the correct time. Wisconsin would fire first in half an hour; her initial Tomahawk was scheduled to rocket from the gray launcher box at 1:37 Thursday morning for the ninety-minute flight to Baghdad.

But now Gulf Papa faced imminent failure. For reasons no one in Strike could fathom, the Tomahawk computers seemed confused, refusing to transfer the necessary commands from the engagement planning console to the launch console. The resulting impasse -- "casualty," in Navy jargon -- meant the missiles could not be fired.

Again the missile crew ran through the launch procedures. All switches were properly flattened, all electrical connections secure. The console operator reloaded the software program and tried once more. Again the infuriating message popped onto the screen: "Inventory error." Still the captain seemed unfazed, as though this was just another repeat of Nemean Lion, the Tomahawk launch exercises -- named for the mythical beast slain by Hercules as the first of his twelve labors -- that the Navy had practiced before the war. But disquiet spread through the crowded room; one officer's jerky motions and rising voice grew agitated. "Keep your head together," Lieutenant Zanti snapped. "Let's think the problem through."

Failure here, they all knew, would be very bad, not only for the war plan but for the Navy. Skepticism about the Tomahawk Land Attack Missile, or TLAM, was rampant in the military, even among some naval officers. Although more than a hundred missiles had been fired in exercises -- including one recently shot from the Pacific at a target in Nevada -- none had flown in combat. The closest a Tomahawk had come to being fired in anger was in August 1989, when the United States edged to within hours of attacking Hezbollah camps in Lebanon after the kidnapers of Joseph Cicippio threatened to execute the hostage.

Perhaps the greatest -- certainly the ranking -- skeptic was the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Alternately fascinated by and distrustful of the weapon, General Colin Powell in October had warned Norman Schwarzkopf's chief targeteer, "I don't give a damn if you shoot every TLAM, the Navy's got, they're still not worth a shit. Any target you intend to destroy with the TLAM, put a fighter on it to make sure the target's destroyed." Tomahawk's role in the attack planning had grown and diminished along with prevailing military confidence in the weapon. The Navy had finally pulled together eight years of test data, sketched a diagram of a baseball diamond, and vowed that if the target was the pitching rubber, the overwhelming majority of warheads would detonate within the perimeter of the base paths, even after a five-hundred-mile journey.

Yet other complications persisted. The gray steel boxes housing the missiles topside contained secrets to which few men were privy. One secret -- which would remain classified even after the war -- was the route the Tomahawks would fly to Baghdad. The missile's navigation over land was determined by terrain-contour matching, a technique by which readings from a radar altimeter were continuously compared with land elevations on a digitized map drawn from satellite images and stored in the missile's computer. Broken country -- mountains, valleys, bluffs -- was required for the missile to read its position and avoid "clobbering," plowing into the ground.

For shooters from the Red Sea, the high desert of western Iraq was sufficiently rugged. But for Wisconsin and other ships firing from the Persian Gulf, most of southeastern Iraq and Kuwait was hopelessly flat. After weeks of study, only one suitable route was found for Tomahawks from the gulf: up the rugged mountains of western Iran, followed by a left turn across the border and into the Iraqi capital. Navy missile planners in Hawaii and Virginia mapped the routes and programmed the weapons. They also seeded the missiles' software with a "friendly virus" that scrambled much of the sensitive computer coding during flight in case a clobbered Tomahawk fell into unfriendly hands. A third set of Tomahawks, carried aboard ships in the Mediterranean, were assigned routes across the mountains of Turkey and eastern Syria.

Not until a few days before the war was to begin, however, had the White House and National Security Council suddenly realized that war plans called for dozens and perhaps hundreds of missiles to fly over Turkey, Syria, and Iran, the last a nation chronically hostile to the United States. President Bush's advisers had been flabbergasted. ("Look," Powell declared during one White House meeting, "I've been showing you the flight lines for weeks. We didn't have them going over white paper!") After contemplating the alternative-scrubbing the Tomahawks and attacking their well-guarded targets with piloted aircraft -- Bush assented to the Iranian overflight. Tehran would not be told of the intrusion. But on Sunday night, January 13, Bush prohibited Tomahawk launches from the eastern Mediterranean; neither the Turks nor the Syrians had agreed to American overflights, and the president considered Turkey in particular too vital an ally to risk offending.

Now it was the Navy's turn to be surprised. Again communications broke down: planners on the Navy flagship U.S.S. Blue Ridge learned of the White House prohibition less than four hours before the first launch was to take place. With frantic haste the Blue Ridge planners cut new orders, redistributing the Mediterranean shooters' targets to ships in the Persian Gulf and Red Sea, thus increasing the workload of each task force by a third.

On Wisconsin, where the scheduled launch time was now just moments away, the men in Strike were running out of solutions. "All right," Lieutenant Zanti announced, "we'll start from the beginning." The data for the eight Wisconsin shots -- three pages of detailed coding for each missile -- would be retyped into the computer. The task was tedious and time-consuming. He turned to Captain Bill and the ship's weapons officer.

"Sir, we need to ask for more time," Zanti told Bill. "If we don't get an extension, we can't shoot."

The captain agreed. As the request flashed up the chain of command to Blue Ridge, an excited voice from one of Gulf Papa's nearby shooters crackled through Strike over the radio intercom: "Alpha, alpha. This is the Paul F. Foster. Happy trails."

Happy trails: the code phrase for missile away. The war had begun without Wisconsin. Deep within the battleship the missilemen labored over their keyboards, clicking furiously.



- posted by H.V.O.M - Kerry Wayne Burgess 04:50 AM Pacific Time Spokane Valley Washington USA Saturday 07 May 2016