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Active substance(s): CLARITHROMYCIN
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Clarithromycin 250 mg & 500 mg Film-Coated Tablets
Read all of this leaflet carefully before you start taking this medicine because it contains important information for
• Keep this leaflet. You may need to read it again.
• If you have any further questions, ask your doctor or pharmacist.
• This medicine has been prescribed for you only. Do not pass it on to others. It may harm them, even if their signs of
illness are the same as yours.
• If you get any side effects, talk to your doctor or pharmacist.This includes any possible side effects not listed in this
leaflet. See section 4.
What is in this leaflet:
1. What Clarithromycin is and what it is used for
2. What you need to know before you take Clarithromycin
3. How to take Clarithromycin
4. Possible side effects
5. How to store Clarithromycin
6. Contents of the pack and other information
What Clarithromycin is and what it is
used for
Clarithromycin is an antibiotic which belongs to the group of
macrolide antibiotics. It stops the growth of certain bacteria.
Clarithromycin is used to treat:
• Infections of the respiratory tract (nose, throat and lungs)
such as pneumonia, bronchitis, sinusitis and pharyngitis.
• Mild to moderate skin and soft tissue infections.
• It can also be used, in combination with other antibacterials
and appropriate ulcer healing agents, to eradicate
H. pylori infections.
What you need to know before you
take Clarithromycin
Do not take Clarithromycin
• if you are allergic to clarithromycin, other macrolide
antibiotics or to any of the other ingredients of this
medicine (listed in section 6).
• if you or someone in your family has a history of certain
abnormal heart rhythms (ventricular arrhythmia, including
torssades de pointes) or changes in the heart activity as
measured in the electro-cardiogram called "QT
• if you suffer from severe liver failure and kidney problems
at the same time
• if your blood potassium or magnesium level is low
(hypolalaemia or hypomagnesemia).
• if you are taking
- ticagrelor (to prevent blood clotting)
- ranolazine (used to treat angina pectoris)
- ergotamine, dihydroergotamine (medicines to treat migraine)
- cisapride (gastric medicine)
- pimozide (antipsychotic)
- terfenadine or astemizole (antiallergics)
- lovastatin, simvastatin (medicines to lower cholesterol)
- colchicine (to treat gout).
- other medicines which are known to cause serious
disturbances in heart rhythm
Warnings and precautions
Talk to your doctor or pharmacist before taking Clarithromycin
• if you have reduced liver or kidney function.
• if you develop severe or prolonged diarrhoea
(pseudomembranous colitis) during or after taking
Clarithromycin, consult your doctor immediately. Inflammation
of the colon (Pseudomembranous colitis) has been reported
with nearly all antibacterial medicines including clarithromycin.
• if you have, or have had, heart problems or
• if your magnesium level has previously been low
• if you have used clarithromycin before on several
occasions or for a long time.
Other medicines and Clarithromycin
Tell your doctor or pharmacist if you are taking or have
recently taken, or might take any other medicines, including
medicines obtained without a prescription.
Certain other medicines may affect the effectiveness of
Clarithromycin or vice-versa. Such medicines include:
Clarithromycin may increase the effect of the following
• Astemizole, terfenadine (antiallergic), pimozide
(antipsychotic), cisapride (gastric medicine), ergotamine,
dihydroergotamine (migraine medicines), lovastatin,
simvastatin (medicines to lower cholesterol), ticagrelor (to
prevent blood clotting), ranolazine (used to treat angina
pectoris), colchicine (to treat gout) (see "Do not take
• Alprazolam, triazolam, midazolam (hypnotics)
Digoxin, verapamil, amlodipine, diltiazem (heart medicines)
Theophylline (antiasthmatic)
Warfarin (blood thinning medicine)
Atorvastatin, rosuvastatin (cholesterol lowering agents)
Cyclosporine, sirolimus, tacrolimus (immunosuppressants)
Carbamazepin, phenytoin, valproate (medicines to treat
Cilostazol (used to improve circulation in the legs)
Insulin and other medicines for the treatment of diabetes
(such as nateglinide or repaglinide)
Methylprednisolone (a cortisone to treat inflammation)
Omeprazole (gastric medicine)
Sildenafil, tadalafil, vardenafil (medicines to treat erectile
Tolterodine (to treat overactive bladder syndrome)
Vinblastine (medicine for cancer therapy)
Medicines with the risk to affect hearing, especially
aminoglycosides, such as gentamicin or neomycin (group
of antibiotics)
Both, the effect of Clarithromycin and the effect of the
following medicines may be increased when taken
• Atazanavir, saquinavir (medicines to treat HIV)
• Itraconazole (medicine to treat fungal infections)
If your doctor has specifically recommended to take
Clarithromycin and any of the above mentioned medicines at
the same time, your doctor may need to monitor you more
The following medicines may weaken the effect of
• Rifampicin, rifabutin, rifapentine (antibiotics)
• Efavirenz, etravirine, nevirapine (medicines to treat HIV)
• Phenytoin, carbamazepine, phenobarbitone (antiepileptic)
• St John's Wort
Please note
Ritonavir (antiviral) and fluconazole (medicine to treat fungal
infections) may increase the effect of Clarithromycin.
Clarithromycin may weaken the effect of zidovudine
(antiviral). In order to avoid this you should leave a 4 hour
interval between taking these medicines.
The use of Clarithromycin at the same time as digoxin,
quinidine, disopyramide or verapamil (heart medicines) or
other macrolide antibiotics may cause cardiac arrhythmia.
Taking Clarithromycin with food and drink
Clarithromycin can be taken before, with or after food.
Pregnancy and breast-feeding
If you are pregnant or breast-feeding, think you may be
pregnant or are planning to have a baby, ask your doctor for
advice before taking this medicine.
Driving and using machines
Clarithromycin has generally no effect on the ability to drive or
use machines but may cause side effects such as dizziness,
confusion and disorientation. If you feel affected you should
not drive, operate machinery or take part in activities where
you may put yourself or others at risk.
How to take Clarithromycin
Always take this medicine exactly as your doctor has told you.
Check with your doctor or pharmacist if you are not sure.
The dispensing label will tell you how much of this medicine
you should take and how often you should take it. Please read
it carefully. The dose your doctor prescribes depends on the
type of infection and how bad the infection is. It also depends
on how your kidneys are working. Your doctor will explain this
to you.
Continued on the next page >>
Adults and children over 12 years:
The usual dose is one 250 mg tablet twice a day for 6 to 14 days.
For some infections, you may be instructed to take two
250 mg tablets or one 500 mg tablet twice a day.
For Helicobacter Pylori Infections:
One 500 mg tablet (or two 250 mg tablets) twice a day in
combination with 1000 mg amoxicillin and 20 mg omeprazole
twice a day for 7 days.
Patients with kidney problems:
Depending on your kidney function, your doctor may need to
give you a lower dose than the normal adult dose.
Children (under 12 years old):
Clarithromycin Tablets are not recommended. Clarithromycin
Suspension will usually be given.
If you take more of this medicine than you should
If you have taken too many Clarithromycin Tablets, or if
someone else has taken your Clarithromycin Tablets, you/they
should contact your doctor or your nearest hospital accident
and emergency department immediately. Please take any
remaining medicine with you in the carton in which it came so
that the doctor or hospital staff will know what has been taken.
If you forget to take this medicine
Take it as soon as you remember. Then continue as before.
Do not take any more tablets in one day than your doctor has
prescribed. Do not stop taking the tablets until the end of the
prescribed course even if you feel better.
If you stop taking this medicine
Do not stop taking Clarithromycin Tablets before the end of
the course, even if you think the infection is better. Stopping
early can mean that the infection quickly comes back. If you
are not sure about anything, ask your doctor or pharmacist.
If you have any further questions on the use of this medicine,
ask your doctor or pharmacist.
Possible side effects
Like all medicines, this medicine can cause side effects,
although not everybody gets them.
Serious side effects
If any of the following happens, stop taking this medicine and
tell your doctor immediately or go to the casualty department
at your nearest hospital.
Uncommon serious side effects (may affect up to 1 in 100
• fever, sore throat or mouth ulcers due to infections
(signs of low level of white blood cells)
• rash, itching, hives, breathlessness or difficult breathing,
wheezing or coughing, light-headedness, dizziness,
changes in levels of consciousness, hypotension, with or
without mild generalized itching, skin reddening,
facial/throat swelling, blue discoloration of the lips, tongue
or skin (signs of severe allergic reaction)
• irregular heart-beat (change in the electrical activity of the
• yellow skin and eyes, nausea, loss of appetite, dark urine
Serious side effects with unknown frequency (frequency
cannot be estimated from the available data):
• diarrhoea, abdominal pain, fever (signs of inflammation of
the colon
• severe pain in the abdomen and back, caused by pancreas
• high or low urine output, drowsiness, confusion, and
nausea caused by kidney inflammation
• severe or itchy skin rash, especially if this shows blistering
and there is soreness of the eyes, mouth or genital organs
• unusual bruising or bleeding caused by low blood platelets
• fast or irregular heart beat
• severe bleeding
• abnormal breakdown of muscle, causing pain, fever,
red-brown urine
• severely decreased urine output
• rash, fever, blood alterations (which may be a sign of
hypersensitivity syndrome, called DRESS), a red, scaly
rash with bumps under the skin and blisters
(exanthematous pustulosis).
These are all serious side effects. You may need urgent
medical attention.
Other possible side effects
Tell your doctor if any of the following side effects bother you.
Common (may affect up to 1 in 10 people):
• difficulty falling asleep
• headache
• changes in the senses of taste (for example metallic or
bitter taste)
• abdominal pain, feeling or being sick, diarrhoea,
indigestion, heart burn
• abnormal liver function test results
• rash
• excessive sweating.
Uncommon (may effect up to 1 in 100 people):
• yeast infections (candidiasis)
• infections of the vagina
• low levels of white blood cells, increased number of certain
white blood cells
loss or reduction of appetite
dizziness, drowsiness, tremor
impaired hearing
spinning sensation
ringing in the ears (tinnitus)
inflammation of the stomach lining, constipation, wind, dry
mouth, belching, swelling or bloating of the abdomen
increase of liver enzymes in the blood
generally feeling unwell, weakness, tiredness
chest pain
abnormal blood test result - high level of an enzyme called
alkaline phosphatase in the blood that gives information
about the health of bones or high level of an enzyme called
blood lactate dehydrogenase in the blood that gives
information about the health of certain organs
Frequency not known (frequency cannot be estimated from
the available data)
• nightmares, confusion, disorientation, hallucinations
(seeing things that are not there), psychosis (loss of
contact with reality), a feeling of loss of identity, depression
• convulsions, loss of sense of taste or smell, tingling and
numbness of the skin
• deafness
• certain bacterial infections of the skin and underlying tissues
• disturbed sense of smell, loss of sense of smell or taste
• tongue discolouration, tooth discoloration
• hemorrhage
• acne
• pain or weakness in muscles
• abnormal blood test results - prolonged blood clotting time
• urine colour abnormal.
Clarithromycin may also affect some laboratory tests. If you
have to go to hospital or doctors for a blood test it is important
that you tell the doctor or nurse that you are taking clarithromycin.
Reporting of side effects
If you get any side effects, talk to your doctor or pharmacist.
This includes any possible side effects not listed in this leaflet.
You can also report side effects directly via the Yellow Card
Scheme (www.mhra.gov.uk/yellowcard). By reporting side
effects you can help provide more information on the safety of
this medicine.
How to store Clarithromycin
Keep this medicine out of the sight and reach of children.
Store in the original package in order to protect from moisture.
Do not use this medicine after the expiry date which is stated
on the carton after EXP. The expiry date refers to the last day
of that month.
Do not throw away any medicines via wastewater or household
waste. Ask your pharmacist how to throw away medicines you
no longer use. These measures will help protect the
Contents of the pack and other
What Clarithromycin Tablets contain:
The active substance is clarithromycin.
• Each film-coated tablet contains 250 mg or 500 mg of the
active ingredient clarithromycin
• The other ingredients include: croscarmellose sodium,
microcrystalline cellulose, povidone, magnesium stearate,
colloidal anhydrous silica, talc, hypromellose, propylene
glycol, titanium dioxide (E171), hydroxypropylcellulose,
sorbitan monooleate, quinolin yellow (E104), vanillin.
What Clarithromycin Tablets look like and the contents of
the pack
Clarithromycin 250 mg Tablets are dark yellow, film-coated,
capsule-shaped tablets and are available in
PVC/PVDC/Aluminium blister packs of 8, 10, 12, 14, 15, 16,
20, 21, 24, 49, 50, 100, 100 x 1.
Clarithromycin 500 mg Tablets are light yellow, film-coated,
oval shaped tablets and are available in
PVC/PVDC/Aluminium blister packs of 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 12, 14,
15, 16, 20, 21, 30, 42, 50, 60, 100, 100 x 1, 140.
Not all pack sizes may be marketed.
Marketing Authorisation Holders and Manufacturer
The marketing authorisation holder is:
Sandoz Ltd, Frimley Business Park, Frimley,
Camberley, Surrey, GU16 7SR, UK.
The manufacturer is:
Sandoz S.R.L., Livezeni Street no. 7A, RO-540472,
Targu Mures, Romania.
The leaflet was last revised in 12/2017.
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laetus code: 000
mat.no.: 00000000
Artwork Proof Box
Ref: V033: PSUR update to SPC, PIL & LB + PRAC
Proof no.
Date prepared:
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Dimensions: 160 x 320 mm
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Further information
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text:
The conditions for overhead surveillance were perfect as Maj. Richard Heyser headed into hostile airspace aboard his U-2 spy plane on the morning of October 14, 1962. It was an hour after sunrise, and there was barely a cloud in the sky.
Heyser had taken off five hours earlier, from Edwards Air Force Base in California, and approached Cuba from the south, making a long loop around the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean. He determined his position by shooting the stars with a sextant and, at 7:31 Eastern Daylight Time, adjusted his course so he was flying almost due north, on a route that would take him over a place called San Cristobal on the western end of the island. He was flying at 72,500 feet, more than twice the altitude of a commercial airliner.
The veteran fighter pilot switched on the camera beneath his cramped cockpit, seeking evidence that would confirm or deny America's worst Cold War fears. Heyser felt the familiar series of thumps as the camera swung back and forth from horizon to horizon, clicking away furiously. Making a photo run was similar to making a bombing run: His main task was to keep the "platform" as steady as possible as he flew over the target.
Taking the pictures was the easy part. Designed to soar to extraordinary altitudes, the U-2 was one of the flimsiest planes ever built. Heyser knew well not to let his eyes stray far from the circular airspeed indicator. He was flying at an altitude known to U-2 pilots as "coffin corner," where the air was so thin it could barely support the weight of the plane, and the difference between maximum and minimum speeds was a scant six knots (seven mph). If he flew too fast, the fragile black bird would fall apart. If he flew too slow, the engine would stall, and he would nose-dive.
He scanned the sky for telltale wisps of smoke from Soviet surface-to-air missiles recently deployed on the island. If he saw a contrail heading in his direction, he was trained to steer an S-pattern, into the missile path and then away from it, so that the missile would zip past him, lacking sufficient power to adjust its course. But while Heyser was well aware of the risks, he had the fighter pilot's gift of feeling somehow invulnerable, protected by the invisible shield of his own good fortune. As it turned out, the air defense crews were either caught by surprise by his flight, or they had been instructed to hold their fire.
The camera continued to thump. In the space of 12 minutes, Heyser snapped more than 3,000 frames.
The following morning, October 15, analysts began poring over giant blowups of Heyser's photos at the CIA's National Photographic Interpretation Center, housed in a dilapidated seven-story building above a car dealership at Fifth and K streets NW. By evening, the photo interpreters had drawn their startling conclusion: The Soviets were in the final stages of deploying intermediate-range nuclear missiles in Cuba.
President John F. Kennedy was still in his pajamas in the early morning of October 16 when his national security adviser, McGeorge Bundy, delivered the news. Kennedy was stunned -- Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev had given him a personal pledge not to deploy "offensive weapons" in Cuba. "He can't do that to me," Kennedy exclaimed. Summoned to the White House to look at Heyser's pictures, the president's brother Robert pounded his fist in his palm and moaned, "Oh shit! Shit! Shit! Those sons a bitches Russians."
Touched off by Heyser's photographs, the Cuban missile crisis brought the two superpowers to the brink of nuclear war. Tensions reached a peak two weeks later, on "Black Saturday," October 27, when a U-2 flown by Maj. Rudolf Anderson Jr. was shot down over Cuba.
Two days after Anderson's death, Heyser found himself in a car with Gen. Curtis LeMay, riding toward the Pentagon. He had just accompanied LeMay to the White House, where he was introduced to Kennedy as the pilot who had discovered the missiles.
The Air Force chief of staff -- who would become the inspiration for the out-of-control
nuclear commander in the movie "Dr. Strangelove" -- was furious with Kennedy over how he had dealt with Khrushchev. Nevertheless, he also saw an opportunity to reap some good publicity for his beloved Strategic Air Command.
"Every fracas deserves a hero," LeMay told Heyser in his gruff voice, lingering on the first syllable of "fracas."
Heyser looked expectantly at the general.
"We decided to make Anderson the hero because he's dead and you're alive," LeMay continued. "You don't have any objection to that, do you, major?"
Heyser felt like saying, "Why, of course not, Mr. Four Star General." But he kept the sarcasm to himself.
"No, sir."
History Is Slipping Away
He is remembering it all now, a determined-looking man with a sharp gaze seated at the kitchen table of his comfortable ranch-style house in the Florida fishing village of Apalachicola on the Gulf coast. The mementos surround him -- grainy black-and-white photos of the missile sites; yellowing newspaper clips about the "Dragon Lady," as the U-2 was known; squadron patches.
And there it is on the wall, the photograph taken in the Oval Office, JFK in a rocking chair listening to the bemedaled LeMay, who is flanked on the sofa by Heyser and two other Air Force officers. Heyser is leaning forward, his gaze fixed on the young president. Scrawled across the photo: "With esteem and best regards, John Kennedy."
Over the years, Heyser has thought a lot about his conversation with LeMay, and the memory obviously grates on him. He believes that far too much attention has been paid to Anderson -- and not nearly enough to the other U-2 pilots who risked their lives to document the deployment of Soviet missiles less than 100 miles from Key West. He is eager to correct early Air Force accounts of the crisis that boosted Anderson's hero status by erroneously claiming that Anderson and he had discovered the missiles together. In fact, Anderson's first overflight of Cuba did not occur until October 15, by which time CIA analysts were already examining Heyser's photos.
After the missile crisis, Anderson received a slew of posthumous honors, including the first-ever Air Force Cross, the service's highest award for gallantry. A campaign is underway in his home town of Greenville, S.C., for him to be awarded a Medal of Honor. By contrast, the other 10 pilots who flew missions over Cuba during the crisis had to content themselves with the Distinguished Flying Cross, a less important medal. While Heyser's own name has gone into the history books, the names of the other pilots never appeared in the newspapers. Most books about the Cuban missile crisis, even ones that focus on the role of intelligence-gathering, contain no mention of their exploits.
For many years, Heyser was unable to talk in detail about the missile crisis because of the secrecy surrounding the U-2 program. Now 75, and in failing health following a stroke, he feels that history is slipping away, and may never be told accurately unless the participants speak out. In particular, he says, he wants to ensure that the other U-2 pilots receive the recognition they deserve.
"The only thing Andy did, and we didn't do," says Heyser, "was that he died."
'A Riddle Wrapped in a Mystery'
The world of 1962, when two superpowers were locked in a struggle that could have resulted in the first-ever nuclear war, was different in many ways from today's world. But in some respects, it is hauntingly similar. Like George W. Bush, John F. Kennedy was preoccupied with threats to the nation's security. Like the war on terrorism, the Cold War was as much an ideological struggle as a military struggle. Instead of the blood-and-guts battles of previous conflicts, Americans were engaged in a new kind of war against a new kind of foe, and good intelligence was essential to winning.
For all the sophistication of American espionage techniques, there was much that Kennedy did not know about the Soviet Union in the fall of 1962. The Soviet Union, in the phrase of Winston Churchill, remained "a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma." Kennedy knew he was engaged in a gigantic test of wills with Khrushchev, but he lacked basic facts about the enemy's capabilities and intentions.
Over the summer, U.S. intelligence agencies had been observing a steady Soviet military buildup on Cuba. There was now no doubt that Fidel Castro, the charismatic guerrilla leader who led his followers out of the Sierra Maestra in 1958 to overthrow the corrupt Batista regime, had thrown in his lot with Moscow. An armada of Soviet ships had called on the island and unloaded vast quantities of military supplies. The big question in the minds of Kennedy and his advisers was whether this military equipment was defensive or offensive.
The CIA chief, John McCone, was convinced that the Soviets were putting offensive nuclear weapons into Cuba in an attempt to shift the strategic balance of power in their favor. U-2 spy planes operated by the CIA had spotted the construction of SA-2 surface-to-air missile sites, easily identifiable by their distinctive Star of David configuration. The most likely reason for installing SA-2s in Cuba, McCone argued, was to protect nuclear missiles from surveillance or bombardment.
Most other members of the administration, including the president himself, could not believe that Khrushchev would take such a high-stakes gamble. Up until that time, the Soviets had never deployed nuclear weapons outside their own country. To place Soviet nuclear missiles in Cuba -- cutting the early warning time for a nuclear attack on Washington or New York from several hours to around 15 minutes -- seemed a reckless provocation.
The only way to settle the debate was to send U-2s back over Cuba, despite the risk of a plane being shot down by an SA-2 missile. (SA-2s had been responsible for the destruction of a U-2 over China the previous month, as well as a U-2 piloted by Francis Gary Powers over the Soviet Union in May 1960.) Since Kennedy wanted to avoid the embarrassment of a clandestine CIA plane being lost over Cuba -- Powers had been a CIA pilot -- he transferred responsibility for the operation to the Air Force. If a pilot were to be shot down, he would say he had been on a routine flight that had strayed off course.
Intelligence officers estimated the chances of a U-2 shoot-down over Cuba at roughly one in six. The same odds, in other words, as Russian roulette.
An Elite Corps Pilots
There was no plane in the world remotely like the U-2. When it was still on the design board, back in 1954, the consensus of engineering opinion was that it was an "impossible" plane to build, let alone to fly. Its construction was a triumph of faith and determination on the part of its brilliant creator, Kelly Johnson of Lockheed, who subordinated everything to a single overriding goal: flying higher than man had ever flown before.
The purpose of the U-2 was to gather information on an enemy's military capabilities through aerial surveillance, a tradition that dated back to the use of observation balloons during the Civil War. The plane would carry no weapons. Its primary defense would be the altitude at which it flew, 30,000 feet higher than the highest-flying Soviet interceptors.
In order to build a plane capable of reaching such altitudes, Johnson needed to be ruthless about reducing its weight. That meant dispensing with many of the basic features of a modern airplane, such as most hydraulic systems, standard structural supports and conventional landing gear. Instead of being held together with metal sheets that passed through the fuselage, the wings and tail were bolted on, meaning that it was easy for them to fall off if the plane was subjected to too much buffeting.
The one area where Johnson was unable to cut corners was the camera, which had to be large enough to identify objects 2 1/2 feet long from a distance of 14 or 15 miles. At one point, he vowed to "sell my own grandmother" for another six inches of space for the camera. He finally settled for a monstrous piece of equipment with a focal length of 36 inches. When fully loaded, the camera contained roughly a mile of film that itself weighed 300 pounds. To maintain the balance of the aircraft, the film was sliced into two nine-inch-wide strips that were spooled in opposite directions and later reassembled.
The plane needed long, narrow wings to gain lift at high altitude. Wingtip to wingtip, the early U-2s measured 80 feet, nearly twice the distance from nose to tail. The sailplane-style wings and light air frame enabled the U-2 to glide up to 250 miles if it ever lost power from its single engine.
Flying this extraordinary airplane required an elite corps of pilots, men who were physically and mentally equipped to roam the upper reaches of Earth's atmosphere, at a time when manned space flight was still in the realm of science fiction. U-2 pilots were halfway to being astronauts. In order to be selected for the program, they needed to demonstrate the "right stuff," a combination of athleticism, intellect and utter confidence in their own abilities.
"Every pilot considers himself above everyone else in the world," says Heyser. But even by that standard, "we all recognized that the credentials required for getting into the program were extraordinarily high."
In 1957, Heyser was among the first Air Force pilots sent out to "the ranch," a remote airstrip in the Nevada desert, to be trained on the new plane. Most of those selected were instructor pilots, with extensive experience in single-engine fighters. The recruits had no idea what they were getting into, since nobody had experience flying the U-2 and its very existence was a closely guarded secret. In theory, they were all volunteers, but when Heyser expressed reservations about signing up for "a pig in a poke," he says, he was told by his commanding officer, "I just volunteered you."
Also known as "Area 51," the ranch would become notorious as the site of numerous alleged UFO sightings, most of which likely were sightings of the U-2. At the time, few people believed that manned flight was possible above 60,000 feet. Seen from below, with the sun glinting off its wings, the high-flying spy plane resembled a fiery object that could only be explained as an extraterrestrial object.
One of the first tests for new recruits was to be placed in a pressure chamber to see if they could adapt to explosive decompression, an ever-present danger for U-2 pilots. If they passed that and other exams, pilots were sent to the David Clark brassiere company in Worcester, Mass., to be fitted for a special partial-pressure suit. The suit was designed to expand automatically as soon as the cabin depressurized, forming a giant corset around the pilot and preventing his blood from exploding into the rarefied air. Some pilots found the suit, and the cramped U-2 cabin, so claustrophobic that they had to be released from the program.
In order to preserve the secrecy surrounding the plane, the Air Force insisted on seclusion. The U-2 squadron was stationed outside Del Rio, Tex., a small town on the Mexican border three hours' drive from San Antonio. The base was surrounded by arid scrub, cactus and sagebrush. The pilots, flight technicians and administrators formed a tightknit community, living side by side in brand-new housing. Junior personnel were assigned air-conditioned duplexes with washer, dryer and carport, all the accouterments of '50s consumer society. The more senior pilots lived in bungalows, on good-size lots. "It was pretty goddamn nice," recalls former U-2 pilot Gerald McIlmoyle. "The Air Force wanted to look after us."
The 4080th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing, which consisted of one U-2 squadron with about 25 pilots, was like a large, rambunctious family. The paterfamilias and wing commander was Col. John A. Des Portes, a former World War II bomber pilot and good old Southern boy. The pilots lived, worked and played together. Their social life revolved around church and bridge parties and backyard barbecues. In the evening, they would sometimes get together to perform skits on Air Force life. On weekends, they would organize trips across the border to Mexico, where they would watch bullfights and buy beer for $2.50 a case.
Heyser's oldest son, Richard, age 7, belonged to the "rat pack," the term given to the neighborhood hell-raisers. The two Anderson children, 5-year-old Rudolf III and 3-year-old James, were more sedate. Almost without exception, the wives were stay-at-home moms. With their Catholic church ties, the Heysers were particularly close to the McIlmoyles. The Air Force would often send Heyser and McIlmoyle on tours of duty together, billeting them in the same room. During their free time, they would head for the golf course. Rudy and Jane Anderson were pillars of the bridge-playing set, together with their best friends, Robert and Marlene Powell, who had children around the same age. The two women would constantly drop in on each other, teaming up to feed the kids and help each other out. When Marlene was pregnant with her third child, and her husband was away, the Andersons rushed her to the hospital when she went into labor.
The pilots were friends, but they were also competitors. According to McIlmoyle, "there was rivalry, no question about it, but not personal animosity." As a group, says Powell, U-2 pilots were "all greedy for flying time. Some pilots [in other units] would brag that they only had to fly 20 hours a month, but we would brag about flying 30 hours or more. We wanted to show off; we were like kids."
An Air Force Poster Boy
When the missile crisis broke, and the Air Force was looking for U-2 pilots to fly over Cuba, most members of the squadron were on assignment away from Del Rio. Some pilots were in Alaska, from where they flew air sampling missions over the North Pole, scooping up debris from Soviet nuclear missile tests for analysis in the United States. Others were in Europe or Asia, flying reconnaissance missions around the periphery of the Soviet Union or China.
The two most experienced U-2 pilots still in Del Rio were Heyser and Anderson. Darkly handsome with a seemingly permanent scowl on his face, Heyser was the senior pilot in the squadron, and had the reputation of being a favorite of Des Portes. They had known each other since the Second World War when Des Portes was deputy commander of the Army Air Corps base in Apalachicola, Heyser's home town. In his junior and senior years of high school, Heyser used to hang out at the base, making friends with the pilots and occasionally taking over the controls of a B-17. Des Portes and Heyser shared another bond. Like Anderson, they were graduates of Clemson University in South Carolina.
Because of his seniority, Heyser says, he could usually count on being picked for special missions and felt no need to lobby his superiors for extra flying time. He remembers asking a colonel from SAC headquarters why his name kept coming up for the most sensitive and dangerous assignments. "You have the most experience," the colonel replied. "You are like a racehorse. We are going to ride you until you fall."
While Heyser affected a devil-may-care demeanor, he was also intensely proud of his accomplishments and known to have a stubborn streak. According to McIlmoyle, his Air Force career would later suffer because he refused to back down in arguments with his superiors.
Anderson, by contrast, was an Air Force poster boy right from the start. Lean and athletic, with dark hair and striking dark brown eyes, he was exuberant and exceptionally competitive. As a child, he built model airplanes and dreamed of becoming a pilot. Flying was his passion and his life. "Imagine, I am able to do this, and get paid," he told his family. His officer evaluations were uniformly excellent, signposting the way to a high-flying military career.
In private, he was always "cutting up and playing the card," according to his daughter, Robyn Lorys, who never knew her father but heard many stories about him from friends and relatives. He was the type of person who would jump out of his second-story college dorm window to catch a roommate's escaped bird or surprise his aunt by dancing a little jig on her doorstep. But at work he was much more serious. Anderson was the kind of pilot known in Air Force parlance as a "scrounger," according to his friend Bob Powell. "You took every mission you could get. You would volunteer for backup if the primary aborted. You had to go."
The Air Force U-2 pilots were also competing with their CIA counterparts. The CIA had a more advanced model of the U-2, with a more powerful engine, which meant that it could fly 5,000 feet higher than the Air Force model and was more difficult to shoot down. Under a hard-fought compromise, the CIA agreed to lend several of its planes to the Air Force for the duration of the missile crisis but would retain control over the photo interpretation process.
Heyser and Anderson flew out to Edwards Air Force Base to pick up the CIA planes. According to his daughter, Anderson had fallen on the ice while on assignment in Alaska a few days earlier, and severely bruised his shoulder. Anderson's medical records show the squadron doctor diagnosed him with bursitis and ordered him not to fly until at least October 15. With Anderson temporarily out of action, Heyser was destined to become the first Air Force pilot to overfly Cuba.
'A Milk Run -- A Piece of Cake'
The countdown to Heyser's flight began the previous day, on October 13. Together with a navigator, he studied maps of Cuba, plotting a course that would take him directly over the SA-2 batteries hidden among the palm trees west of Havana. Intelligence officers briefed him on the threat from the SA-2s and suspicions that they were intended to protect Soviet nuclear missile bases. He then took a sleeping pill, in order to get eight hours' solid rest before his mission.
While Heyser was sleeping, technicians were busy painting Air Force insignia onto the fuselage of the U-2. When he woke up, at 5 p.m. Pacific time, he was given a routine physical exam. Then he was served a high-protein, low-residue meal consisting of steak and eggs, toast and coffee. The idea was to generate enough energy to keep him going during the six-hour flight, but spare him the discomfort of having to defecate in his flight suit.
The Physiological Support Division took Heyser through the preflight rituals, including 11/2 hours of "pre-breathing" pure oxygen, to expel as much nitrogen as possible from his system: If the cabin depressurized at 70,000 feet, nitrogen bubbles would form in his blood, causing him to experience the bends, like a deep sea diver who rises to the surface too quickly.
An hour before takeoff, Heyser was transported to his plane in an air-conditioned van -- it was stifling inside all the gear. He strapped himself into the U-2's single ejection seat, and the canopy was closed. Neatly sewn into the seat cushion was his survival kit, which included flares, a machete, fishing gear, mosquito repellent, a camping stove, an inflatable life raft and a silk banner announcing, in a dozen languages, "I am an American" and promising a reward to anyone who helped him.
The CIA equipped many of its pilots with suicide pills, which they were encouraged to take in order to avoid capture and torture by the enemy. Heyser had no use for the pills. He was convinced "there was no bullet out there with my name on it."
Heyser received the thumbs-up sign, and roared down the runway, pulling the control stick that gave the plane lift. The pogos -- sticks with wheels that prevented the U-2's long billowing wings from scraping the ground -- dropped away. The flimsy plane soared into the sky at a steep angle like some exotic black bird.
Piloting a U-2, Heyser had discovered, was a little like returning to the early days of aviation, when flying was reduced to essentials. With no hydraulics to assist him, Heyser had to use his own arm strength to move the wing flaps, pulling or pushing the E-shaped yoke in front of him in the cockpit. Above the yoke was a round viewfinder that could be used either as a periscope in the down position, to observe Earth, or in the up position as a sextant.
A U-2 pilot needed to combine two contradictory qualities, Heyser felt. In order to sit strapped into an uncomfortable ejector seat for up to 10 hours, he had to transform his body into "a vegetable," shutting down his normal functions. At the same time, his brain was constantly operating at full speed. "Your mind never relaxes. If it does, you're dead."
Instead of flying back to California after his mission over Cuba, Heyser flew into McCoy Air Force Base outside Orlando, in order to hand over his precious intelligence materials as soon as possible. Because of the strangely configured undercarriage of the U-2 -- yet another concession to the weight limitations -- it was unable to make a normal landing. Instead, Heyser had to stall the plane a few feet from the ground, so it performed a kind of belly-flop, plopping onto the runway. A chase car sped alongside, radioing guidance.
Heyser's plane was met by two generals, who personally couriered the film to Washington. "A milk run -- a piece of cake," he told intelligence officers.
A Close Call Over Cuba
The following 13 days were among the most dramatic in world history. Even as Kennedy and Khrushchev frantically looked for ways to pull their countries back from the edge of the abyss, they found it difficult to control their own military machines, let alone the rushing pace of outside events.
Kennedy ordered saturation reconnaissance of Cuba to keep track of the Soviet missiles. Every single U-2 pilot who was not on duty in Alaska or overseas was called into service. The squadron flew as many as six missions a day over the island, searching for the telltale signs of nuclear missiles being readied for action: launchpads recognizable by their peculiar slash marks, fueling and checkout vehicles, communication lines and prefabricated storage bunkers.
The Air Force was so intent on carrying out Kennedy's order that it ignored normal safety precautions. In the predawn hours of October 17, four U-2s took off from Del Rio at 10-minute intervals in a blinding thunderstorm that would normally have grounded such a flimsy plane. The wingtip of the U-2 piloted by Maj. James Qualls barely missed the runway because of strong crosswinds. "We were just about mapping the entire island," he recalls. "Des Portes joked that all he had left [to fly missions over Cuba] were the dregs of the wing."
At McCoy, meanwhile, tensions were simmering between the Air Force "blue suiters" and the CIA support personnel who were responsible for servicing the U-2s and taking charge of the intelligence materials. The agency people were still smarting from what they perceived as a power play by the Air Force in persuading Kennedy to deprive them of the mission. "They were very resentful and made no bones about hiding it," says Anthony Martinez, who served as operations officer for the Air Force U-2 squadron.
According to McIlmoyle, CIA personnel "looked for fault in everything we did." He recalls that a CIA officer reported him to Washington for allegedly displaying signs of nervousness by urinating beside his U-2 shortly before takeoff. McIlmoyle had a good defense: He wanted to spare himself the laborious task of relieving himself aboard the aircraft when he was trying to focus on taking pictures of Soviet missile sites.
On October 25, McIlmoyle returned from an overflight of Cuba with an alarming story about being targeted by an SA-2 missile site near the town of Banes, on the northeast coast of the island. The CIA's U-2s had a device for detecting when they were being observed by enemy radar. When a radar system painted the plane, a yellow light appeared in the cockpit. When a missile locked onto the plane, the light turned red.
The yellow light had already appeared by the time McIlmoyle made a scheduled turn over Banes. As he gently banked the plane, he saw two contrails zip up from beneath him, and explode in the sky above. They looked like SA-2s. There was still no red light in his cockpit. McIlmoyle figured that either his detection system was not working properly or the operators of the SA-2 had fired the missiles blind, without engaging the guidance mechanism, in order to deprive him of the usual warning.
The higher-ups were skeptical of Mc-Ilmoyle's story, he and other pilots recall. A three-star Air Force general who reviewed the electronic intelligence told him bluntly, "You weren't fired at." McIlmoyle, a captain who later rose to the rank of brigadier general in charge of the president's nuclear codes, believes to this day that he was targeted.
If Rudy Anderson was concerned about McIlmoyle's report, he kept his worries to himself. According to his colleagues, he was determined to fly more missions than anyone else, which meant somehow leaping in front of Heyser, who was ahead of him in the rotation. "He was in high gear all the time," recalls Martinez, the operations officer. "He was very compulsive, very patriotic, and very, very dedicated. He was a perfectionist."
According to Heyser, Anderson came to him at one point to ask if he could take over a mission that Heyser had been scheduled to fly. Since Heyser had already racked up a large number of special missions, he says, he was less concerned than Anderson about cramming in as much flying time as possible. He remembers telling Anderson to check with Lt. Col. Martinez, who was responsible for drawing up the roster. "If it's okay with him, it's okay with me." As a result, says Heyser, Martinez "scratched my name out, and put his name on."
Exactly when this incident took place is unclear. Heyser says it happened on October 26, the day before Anderson's fatal flight. But flight records show that Anderson had already caught up with Heyser in number of missions by this point, which suggests that the incident may have taken place earlier. McIlmoyle also has a memory of Anderson going to Martinez on the evening of October 26, expressing an eagerness to fly, and asking to be put on standby the following day. Martinez cannot recall this particular episode, although he says it is "plausible," given Anderson's sometimes "intense" personality.
The following morning, at least three other missions were scrubbed at the last minute, making Anderson the next pilot in the rotation. Capt. Roger Herman had the job of clearing Anderson for takeoff. He followed him up the steps to the plane, and ran through a checklist of 30 or 40 items. He made sure that his oxygen supply was connected properly, and that the maps and "Top Secret" target folder were all neatly stacked by the side of the ejector seat. A final preparation, a "press to test," and a surge of oxygen briefly inflated Anderson's partial-pressure suit, making him resemble the Michelin man and filling up the cockpit. When he was certain that everything was in order, Herman slapped Anderson on the shoulder. "Okay, Rudy, here we go, have a good trip, see you when you get back." Anderson gave a thumbs-up sign as Herman closed the canopy.
Minutes later, Anderson's U-2 roared down the runway and headed toward Cuba.
'Target Number 33 Destroyed'
On Cuba, 40,000 Soviet soldiers -- thinly disguised as tourists in almost identical sports shirts -- were bracing for a U.S. invasion in the next 24 to 48 hours. Castro had spent the previous night at the Soviet Embassy in Havana drafting a personal cable to Khrushchev, urging him to consider a nuclear strike against the United States rather than submit to "Yankee aggression." He had also ordered his forces to begin firing on U.S. planes.
Although they had spent only a few weeks in Cuba, the Soviets were caught up in the feverishly patriotic mood. "Fatherland or death," shouted the banners in the streets. "Cuba yes, Yankees no." "We will destroy the aggressor." Even 40 years later, Soviet veterans who served in Cuba say they were ready to sacrifice themselves for the sake of Castro's revolution.
The commander of Soviet forces in Cuba, Gen. Issa Pliyev, was away from his headquarters when reports arrived of yet another overflight by an American U-2 on the morning of October 27. His deputy, Gen. Stepan Grechko, was in charge. The spy plane was reported to be heading out of Cuban airspace, so he had to make a quick decision. It was impossible to communicate with Moscow, but he believed he already had authority to use all weapons short of nuclear missiles to defend his forces.
"Destroy target number 33," ordered Grechko.
A sudden storm had appeared out of nowhere to drench the battery commanded by Maj. Ivan Gerchenov as the order to destroy the U-2 crackled across the radio. Through the downpour, Gerchenov could barely see the teams manning the missile launchers. In a makeshift shack, the sergeant in charge of the radar system was already tracking the target. He reported the height, speed, distance and azimuth of the U-2 to the gunners who fed the data into the missile's guidance system.
"Use two missiles," instructed Gerchenov.
Buttons were pressed, and, within seconds, the sergeant manning the radar equipment could see two little dots closing in on the target. At first the dots moved slowly. But they gathered speed as they moved across the screen. There was a sudden poof of light in the darkened sky, and Gerchenov could see something falling to Earth.
"Target number 33 destroyed," Gerchenov reported to his superiors at 10:19 a.m., Cuban time.
News of the downing of Anderson's U-2 was viewed in Washington as a sign that Khrushchev was upping the ante in the crisis. Some of Kennedy's advisers speculated that there had been a coup in the Kremlin, and the hardliners had taken over. In Moscow, Soviet military commanders erroneously informed Khrushchev that the order to shoot down the U-2 had come from Castro.
Without accurate information, the leaders of the United States and the Soviet Union were like blind men, stumbling about in the dark.
Unanswered Questions
It was by no means impossible for a U-2 pilot to survive a hit by an SA-2 missile. Back in 1960, Gary Powers had ejected from his plane in just such circumstances. Assuming that Powers was dead, President Dwight D. Eisenhower had described him as a weather reconnaissance pilot who had wandered off course. A few days later, the lie was triumphantly exposed by Khrushchev, who produced the captured U-2 pilot for a staged espionage trial.
Reconstructing events aboard Anderson's U-2 in the minutes leading up to the missile attack is difficult, since he was maintaining radio silence. It will probably never be known whether the red light went on in his cockpit to denote that an SA-2 had locked onto him, and whether he made a last-minute attempt to turn away from the missile, as he was trained to do. But a later autopsy of his body and an examination of the wreckage of the U-2 leave little doubt about what happened next.
The missile was fitted with a proximity fuse, designed to detonate the warhead as soon as it came within striking distance of its target, spraying shrapnel in all directions. Several pieces of missile shrapnel sliced through the cockpit, piercing the back of Anderson's helmet and his body suit. Other U-2 pilots believe that the direct hit from the shrapnel probably killed him instantly. In the event that it did not, he would have died within a few seconds from either the loss of oxygen or the shock of depressurization.
His plane plummeted to the ground not far from the SA-2 missile site. A week later, the Cubans handed over Anderson's body, still dressed in the flying suit, to a United Nations representative, along with his personal possessions. These included photographs of his two young sons and wife Jane, pregnant with their third child.
'Black Saturday'
Back at Laughlin Air Force Base, outside Del Rio, the wives of the U-2 pilots had little information about what was going on over the skies of Cuba. Their husbands often left the base for temporary tours of duty, without revealing very much about the nature of their mission. The president had appeared on television at the beginning of the crisis to announce that he had ordered intensified air reconnaissance of Cuba, so it was not difficult to guess where the men had gone. But the wait was agonizing.
The women were left to fend for themselves, stockpiling canned food and taping up their windows in case of a Soviet attack. As they tried to preserve a semblance of routine, there was one sight that encapsulated all their fears: a chaplain and a colonel walking up the driveway in full dress uniform with serious expressions on their faces.
Jane Anderson had already been through this ghastly routine. A few months before, the Air Force had reported that Rudy had been killed in a U-2 crash during a refueling exercise. It turned out to be a false report. There had been a mix-up in the manifest, and another pilot had died. Shortly before the Air Force officers showed up on Jane's doorstep to deliver the news, Rudy called to let her know that he was okay. It took some time to sort out the confusion. According to Marlene Powell, the incident seriously rattled Jane, who had been "a really relaxed person" up until then.
On the afternoon of "Black Saturday," when the Air Force staff car appeared in the officer housing complex, the women peeked out their windows, looking to see where it was headed. Everybody breathed a sigh of relief when the car passed their houses. The officers asked to speak to an anxious Marlene, who assumed that something had happened to her husband. Instead, they asked her to accompany them across the street.
When the officers appeared at Jane's door, she ran into the bathroom and refused to come out. At this point, all that was known was that Rudy had failed to return from a mission over Cuba. There was still no confirmation that he was dead. Marlene struggled to comfort Jane through the locked bathroom door.
"Don't get worried," she told her friend, who was stifling her sobs. "There's still hope."
When Jane finally reappeared in the living room, an Air Force doctor wanted to give her a drug to calm her nerves. Marlene took the doctor aside. "Don't give her anything," she whispered. "She's pregnant."
Jane Anderson later told her daughter, Robyn, that she could not bring herself to believe that Rudy was dead. "She was under the impression that he was not flying at the time," says Robyn Lorys, who was born 7 1/2 months later. It was not until later that night that Jane resigned herself to the awful truth. According to Lorys, her mother "never thrived again," even though she remarried nine years later. She died in 1981.
"She more or less didn't want to have anything to do with the Air Force after that," recalls Marlene Powell. "She felt that if he hadn't been in the military, it wouldn't have happened. She was pretty bitter at the end. It was like I hardly knew her."
According to family friends, Jane refused to have anything to do with the official Air Force representatives at her husband's funeral in Greenville. Heyser says he was assigned to escort Jane on the plane ride from Del Rio to Greenville, but she turned on him angrily and said, "It should have been you and not Andy."
A Special Type of Courage?
Some five years ago, Heyser received a letter from a retired Greenville architect named Jack Parillo seeking his support for a campaign to award Anderson the Medal of Honor. The idea struck Heyser as "ludicrous," and he wrote Parillo back to tell him so. Anderson would be "turning over in his grave" with embarrassment if he knew about the effort, Heyser says.
But Parillo was persistent. Even though he never knew Anderson, he felt a bond with him as an Air Force Reserve officer, Clemson graduate and resident of Greenville. Now 73, he has become consumed with the story of the downed U-2 pilot, and spends much of his time firing off letters to Air Force officials and members of Congress, arguing the case for Anderson to receive the nation's highest military honor. He sees Anderson as the sacrificial victim of the missile crisis, the man whose death brought the leaders of the two superpowers to their senses. Alarmed that the shoot-down could provoke a U.S. invasion of Cuba, and a possible nuclear exchange, Khrushchev agreed to remove his missiles the following day. In return, Kennedy publicly pledged not to invade Cuba and privately promised to withdraw U.S. missiles from Turkey. The world had stepped back from the brink.
Since the beginning of World War II, the Medal of Honor has been awarded only to those service members who demonstrate courage in combat "above and beyond the call of duty." For example, Lt. Col. James H. Doolittle won the medal for leading a daring bombing raid over Tokyo from an aircraft carrier in the Pacific in the months after Pearl Harbor. The question is: Was Anderson simply doing his duty, or was he displaying a truly special type of courage when he flew his U-2 over Cuba on "Black Saturday," knowing there was a good chance of being fired on by Soviet surface-to-air missiles?
The other U-2 pilots agree with Heyser. "Getting killed does not entitle you to a Medal of Honor," says McIlmoyle. "He knew the threat, we all knew the threat." Only one of the surviving pilots, Charles Kern, supported Parillo at first, and he had second thoughts when he learned that none of his comrades was in favor. Without the backing of the other U-2 pilots, the Medal of Honor proposal seems unlikely to go anywhere.
Not surprisingly, the Anderson family is appreciative of Parillo's efforts. From discussions with her mother, Robyn Lorys is convinced that her father knew he was likely to be killed over Cuba but nevertheless "felt compelled to do what he had to do." At one point, she says, he went to one of his squadron commanders and said, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, "I'm not going to make it back from one of these missions." The commander gently reprimanded him. "Don't talk like that, Rudy, or I will have to pull you."
"He had an understanding that this was part of his destiny," says Lorys. "He had his whole life ahead of him, a wife, two kids, and a baby on the way, and yet there he was, flying kamikaze."
A Moment Remembered
In October 2001, on the 39th anniversary of "Black Saturday," some of Anderson's fellow U-2 pilots and members of his family gathered at Laughlin to dedicate a new training center named in his honor.
The speakers included Robyn Lorys's 8-year-old daughter, Anna, who wrote out a speech describing how proud she was of her grandfather. McIlmoyle was chosen to deliver the main address. The scent of the sagebrush, the view of the old firehouse and control tower, the mountains beyond, all reminded him of the old days, when Laughlin was the center of U-2 reconnaissance operations.
As McIlmoyle approached the rostrum, there was the deafening roar of a plane taking off, soon followed by the familiar sight of a dark, elegant silhouette banking steeply into the brilliant blue sky. McIlmoyle blinked back tears. For a brief moment, he felt he would be unable to go ahead with his speech. The spectacle of the U-2 pulling away from the assembled dignitaries in a salute to the only American victim of the Cuban missile crisis was almost identical to his memory of Anderson's last takeoff.
It had been a gorgeous fall day, and both McIlmoyle and Heyser were out on the golf course at McCoy Air Force Base, relaxing after two weeks of back-to-back missions. As Anderson's plane took off, the men paused in their game to watch it soar. McIlmoyle had found himself feeling a little irritated with Anderson for pushing for extra flying time. Like Heyser, he believed that a pilot should fly the missions he was assigned with "total and absolute dedication," but there was no point needlessly putting yourself in harm's way by asking for extra sorties.
As the U-2 disappeared behind the southern horizon, McIlmoyle turned to Heyser.
"He can have all my damn missions if he wants. I don't care. I've already been shot at."
"He can have all mine, too," McIlmoyle remembers Heyser replying. "I don't care either."
Michael Dobbs is a reporter on The Post's National staff. He will be fielding questions and comments about this article Monday at 1 p.m. on www.washingtonpost.com/liveonline.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Synod often has a keynote speech from a visitor, and today's is from Sir Albert Aynsley-Green of the Children' Society. He is also the first Children's Commissioner for England - and excited about his work and enthusiastic about his interaction with children and young people.
Their most recent work is the 11 Million project. Their website says:
You are 1 in 11 million children and young people in England, and you have a right to be heard! 11 MILLION, led by the Children's Commissioner, wants adults in charge to listen to what you've got to say. We want your rights to be respected.Much of the church's work is with children and young people, and we are encouraged by the many places and ways in which our ambitions for children overlap.
It was almost as if Sir Al was encouraging Synod to join with the statement, less as a statement, and more as a command; Children: Have more fun!
Alastair GS101
Brexit - New Options on the Table
2 days ago


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text:
We may well imagine that the people of Canaan were astonished, and that when they observed the motions of the enemy they could not but think them very strange. When soldiers take the field they are apt to think themselves excused from religious exercises (they have not time nor thought to attend to them), yet Joshua opens the campaign with one act of devotion after another. What was afterwards said to another Joshua might truly be said to this, Hear now, O Joshua! thou and thy fellows that sit before thee are men wondered at (Zech. 3:8), and yet indeed he took the right method. That is likely to end well which begins with God. Here is,
I. A solemn passover kept, at the time appointed by the law, the fourteenth day of the first month, and in the same place where they were circumcised, Josh. 5:10. While they were wandering in the wilderness they were denied the benefit and comfort of this ordinance, as a further token of God's displeasure; but now, in answer to the prayer of Moses upon the passing of that sentence Ps. 90:15; God comforted them again, after the time that he had afflicted them, and therefore now that joyful ordinance is revived again. Now that they had entered into Canaan it was very seasonable to remember those wondrous works of divine power and goodness by which they were brought out of Egypt. The finishing of mercies should bring to mind the beginning of them; and when it is perfect day we must not forget how welcome the morning-light was when we had long waited for it. The solemn passover followed immediately after the solemn circumcision; thus, when those that received the word were baptized, immediately we find them breaking bread, Acts 2:41, 42. They kept this passover in the plains of Jericho, as it were in defiance of the Canaanites that were round about them and enraged against them, and yet could not give them any disturbance. Thus God gave them an early instance of the performance of that promise that when they went up to keep the feasts their land should be taken under the special protection of the divine Providence. Exod. 34:24; Neither shall any man desire thy land. He now prepared a table before them in the presence of their enemies, Ps. 23:5.
II. Provision made for their camp of the corn of the land, and the ceasing of the manna thereupon, Josh. 5:11, 12. Manna was a wonderful mercy to them when they needed it. But it was the mark of a wilderness state; it was the food of children; and therefore, though it was angel's food, and not to be complained of a light bread, yet it would be more acceptable to them to eat of the corn of the land, and this they are now furnished with.
1. The country people, having retired for safety into Jericho, had left their barns and fields, and all that was in them, which served for the subsistence of this great army. And the supply came very seasonably, for, (1.) After the passover they were to keep the feast of unleavened bread, which they could not do according to the appointment when they had nothing but manna to live upon; and perhaps this was one reason why it was intermitted in the wilderness. But now they found old corn enough in the barns of the Canaanites to supply them plentifully for that occasion; thus the wealth of the sinner is laid up for the just, and little did those who laid it up think whose all these things should be which they had provided. (2.) On the morrow after the passover-sabbath they were to wave the sheaf of first-fruits before the Lord, Lev. 23:10, 11. And this they were particularly ordered to do when they came into the land which God would vice them: and they were furnished for this with the fruit of the land that year Josh. 5:12), which was then growing and beginning to be ripe. Thus they were well provided for, both with old and new corn, as good householders. See Matt. 13:52. And as soon as ever the fruits of this good land came to their hands they had an opportunity of honouring God with them, and employing them in his service according to his appointment. And thus, behold, all things were clean and comfortable to them. Calvin is of opinion that they had kept the passover every year in its season during their wandering in the wilderness, though it is not mentioned, and that God dispensed with their being uncircumcised, as he did, notwithstanding that, admit them to offer other sacrifices. But some gather from Amos 5:25 that after the sentence passed upon them there were no sacrifices offered till they came to Canaan, and consequently no passover was kept. And it is observable that after that sentence (Num. 14:1-45) the law which follows (Num. 15:1-41) concerning sacrifices begins thus: "When you shall have come into the land of your habitations" you shall do so and so.
2. Notice is taken of the ceasing of the manna as soon as ever they had eaten the old corn of the land, (1.) To show that it did not come by chance or common providence, as snow or hail does, but by the special designation of divine wisdom and goodness; for, as it came just when they needed it, so it continued as long as they had occasion for it and no longer. (2.) To teach us not to expect extraordinary supplies when supplies may be had in an ordinary way. If God had dealt with Israel according to their deserts, the manna would have ceased when they called it light bread; but as long as they needed it God continued it, though they despised it; and now that they needed it not God withdrew it, though perhaps some of them desired it. He is a wise Father, who knows the necessities of his children, and accommodates his gifts to them, not to their humours. The word and ordinances of God are spiritual manna, with which God nourishes his people in this wilderness, and, though often forfeited, yet they are continued while we are here; but when we come to the heavenly Canaan this manna will cease, for we shall no longer have need of it.
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text:
Motorists Ride Out Recession In Clunkers
Recession-squeezed car owners in Westchester County, New York, are spending more on car repairs. Mechanics say business is booming, but they report some car owners are making penny-wise but pound-foolish decisions in a misguided effort to save money.
LINDA WERTHEIMER, Host:
With so few people buying new cars these days many are going to great lengths to keep their old cars running. Car owners in Westchester County, New York - that's just outside New York City - are spending more on repairs and some are even offering bribes to get inspection stickers. Mechanics say business is booming, but they report some car owners are making penny-wise but pound- foolish decisions. William Marcus has this report.
WILLIAM MARCUS: Calvin Attar(ph) doesn't have to walk far to see evidence of the recession. It's parked right behind his service station in Dobbs Ferry, New York.
CALVIN ATTAR: The guy, he owns a business in Westchester, he cannot afford to fix the minivan. He said keep it. Give me $200 and keep the whole van, which is a van worth over $3,000.
MARCUS: Three times since last June, Attar says, customers tried to bribe him to get their state inspection stickers. These days the middle class and near- rich in New York City suburbs are doing all they can to keep their old clunkers on the road. The average auto repair business grows three to five percent a year. But here in the land of six figure incomes and five figure property tax bills, Courtesy Mobile's business doubled last month.
Courtesy's service manager Anthony Berta says his volume started picking up just as the economy started winding down.
ANTHONY BERTA: Two-thirds of my increase was since June.
MARCUS: He walks me through a computer screen tour of last month's work.
BERTA: This guy spent $1,518 on a '90 Corolla. I got this one here $2,200 on a '97 Chevy van.
MARCUS: Berta lists half a dozen vehicles more than ten years old with repair bills that average $2,000. In better times, he says, those vehicles would've been replaced instead of repaired.
BERTA: In the early '80s it was busy like this.
MARCUS: That was another time when motorists were under the economic gun.
BERTA: If you get a brand-new car you're going to have to put full collision on it, you know, put all this extra insurance on it. Right now the insurance companies aren't giving that many breaks, right? They're all having problems.
MARCUS: And problems are just what the customers are talking about nearly every Saturday morning at Courtesy Mobile. A hundred years ago these same men probably would've been complaining around a pickle barrel at the general store.
RON WILLIAMS: I wish I could get my wife to get out of Westchester. That's the whole freaking thing, with the taxes and the biz... and the shops.
MARCUS: Anthony Berta offers a moment of grief counseling to Ron Williams, whose eight-year-old minivan needs $2,400 worth of work.
BERTA: You have to do your oil changes more often. That's what happened. You were 3,000 miles over.
WILLIAMS: Wow. Wow. Well, no. I had one in between there, but, you know, I just didn't get a chance to get here. But...
MARCUS: But Williams is busted. Berta sees his old oil filter is still in the van. But with six kids, two jobs and a wife to support, Ron Williams can't afford a new engine. So he's going to get a friend to install a motor from a junkyard.
WILLIAMS: I know it's - I'm taking a gamble, but...
BERTA: You know, it's fine. It's fine.
WILLIAMS: You know, I...
BERTA: You know what?
WILLIAMS: What am I going to do?
BERTA: I - you know, I'm the same way. If I needed something done and it was $1,000 cheaper I'm going to have it done.
MARCUS: It's a tough decision for Williams, as it would be for anybody who hopes to ride out this recession in their old car.
For NPR News, I'm Bill Marcus in Westchester County, New York.
WERTHEIMER: This is NPR News.
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Our roads sometimes turn in ways we do not see. Change can bring the snow after the wind has stripped the trees of their color.
And sometimes change can bring the moving van.
Yes that's right, we are moving on. To another resort where we will have more stories to tell. So stay tuned for some changes in 2014!
But until then, I'm trying to keep the baby off the boxes!
Heaven help me! She climbed up there herself! Yikes!
This stack has grown. And our holiday décor has a different look about it than past years.
Enjoy your simple moments, they are fleeting! And may you have a wonderful holiday season!


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The City of Irving is authorized by the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality to discharge stormwater from its municipal separate storm sewer system (MS4) under the Texas Pollutant Discharge Elimination System (TPDES) permit number WQ0004691000.
The Stormwater Management Plan (SWMP) requirements are listed in the City of Irving's TPDES Municipal Stormwater Permit, which regulates the discharge of stormwater from the City's storm system to surface and ground waters. This program guides the storm drainage system operations of the City through the end of this TPDES permit term (2019). The permit requires the city to prepare and implement a Stormwater Management Plan that, at a minimum, consists of addressing eight Minimum Control Measures (MCM's) for stormwater runoff throughout the city:
Stormwater Management Annual Reports
Also see Drainage Design Criteria and Municipal Stormwater Drainage Ordinance.
For more information about the city's Stormwater Management Program, please call the Capital Improvement Program at (972) 721-2611, or visit the Pollution Prevention page.


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It is early morning at Chesterman Beach and the Pacific Ocean is in full cry: great roaring chargers smashing on to the rocks, clouds of spray in the air and debris all over the sands. We pick our way between the bodies of yard-long giant squid spat out by the storm. Here and there rocks, marooned by the falling tide, are encrusted with blue mussels and fat-fingered purple and orange starfish. When I ask Charles McDiarmid, who runs the solitary hotel on the beach, if anyone eats the mussels, he looks surprised, "No, I don't think so. I mean we don't need to – there's so much else."
This is Tofino, on the far western shore of Vancouver Island in British Columbia, a place of wild riches: salmon runs that can choke rivers, bears and whales by the thousand, surfing and walking galore and most of all, apparently most infinite of all, forests of cedars and spruce. In the early 1970s, before roads arrived, Tofino welcomed an eclectic mix of surfer dudes, draft dodgers and wilderness freaks. By the 1990s it had gathered the reputation of being a special traveller place, a secret spot where nature and man had reached an epiphany. When I had mentioned Tofino to people who knew Canada, they became misty-eyed: "Paradise!" "Just brilliant" – tempered with some reservations – "But we were there long ago – it can't be as good as it was." So I've come to see what has become of the star-spangled hangout that fought off the loggers, quite literally, in the 1980s and 1990s to establish itself as the New Age/New World wildlife and lifestyle paradise.
Charles certainly knows the area: his father was the town's only doctor here in the 1950s, when Tofino was nothing but a fishing and hunting base. I ask him about the hippy-heaven reputation. How did that happen?
"Look," he says, "let me show you something."
We turn up the beach and walk to a single-storey clapboard building at the treeline: a woodcarver's shed. Inside there are some workbenches laden with half-finished carvings, and on one side a cupboard that opens to reveal something like an altar laid with cloth and lit by a red bulb. But instead of religious artefacts, there are tools – special tools. I pick up a gouge that has a broad splayed blade and a white curving handle.
"The blade is from a bit of car chassis," Charles tells me. "The handle is a sperm whale tooth. It was made by a guy called Henry Nolla who came to live on this beach in the early 1960s, then never left. Henry was Tofino's first hippy."
The story begins to emerge. Back in the early 1960s Charles's father bought some land and built a beach hut on Chesterman. Soon afterwards Henry drifted into town, a bohemian woodcarver sage who needed a home. He ended up as the McDiarmids' beach hut caretaker, chiselling out totem poles and canoes on the sand with Joe Martin and Roy Henry Vickers, First Nation people with a gift for woodcarving. It was a time when Vietnam war draft dodgers were starting to arrive, drawn by stories of a backwoods hideaway beyond the reach of lawmen and roads. Some took to wandering around naked, swearing they were going to live "at one with nature", and Henry became a guru for them, a benevolent presence, gentle and wise and highly entertaining.
"In the late 1970s," says Charles, "the loggers were getting closer, and people realised they would have to do something or Tofino would change."
In 1984 a local spotted the tell-tale loggers' tape – used to mark future cuts – on Meares Island, a pristine 30-square-mile patch of land sitting right in the middle of Clayoquot Sound, the jewel in Tofino's crown, vital for clean water and fish stocks. Over the following decade pitched battles and face-offs eventually halted the loggers. They had already ripped through 90% of Vancouver Island's ancient forests, but at least that final tenth had a chance of survival. Meares Island survived.
Next morning I wander into town in search of a boat to take me out into the sound. It doesn't look like development is wreaking havoc here. There are only three streets: a few decent cafes, a supermarket, a bottle store, a great bakery-cum-cafe called the Common Loaf, Roy Vickers' superb gallery of First Nation art (royhenryvickers.com), and various boat trip offices. There are a few Quebecois kids hanging around with guitars, looking like they are doing the full hobo. A couple of local youths in wetsuits cycle past carrying surfboards; others are drinking lattes on cafe verandas – no Starbucks here.
I set off with Mike White, who runs bear-watching trips up Fortune Channel, one of the many arms of Clayoquot Sound. There are plenty of snazzy modern boats on offer at the pier, but I like Mike's approach: his boat is an old wooden motor cruiser, there's a coffee pot bubbling away in the galley, and a stack of binoculars next to the sea charts. As we chug out into a thick mist, I ask about Meares Island and Mike points out a few vague glimpses of tree tops. "It's over there – we'll see it better when the mist rises."
The idea of looking at bears, rather than shooting them, is still quite a new one in British Columbia. Mike tells me he was a crab fisherman when he was younger and in those days, hunters would arrive, get fitted out, then sail up the sound to shoot bears. If there was a growing awareness of the money to be made from conservation, it was a notion peddled by hippies, and so viewed with suspicion by Tofino's other half – the frontiersmen.
Mike, I sense, is a man who straddles the two sides of Tofino. When I ask about the hippy era, he chuckles. "They were all right – left a load of mess on the beaches, that's all."
When we pass a salmon farm, I ask if they have trouble with parasites and the sea being poisoned. He grunts non-committally: "We need the jobs."
Slowly the mist clears a little and we spot sea otters playing in the shallows of Meares Island. The fur of the otter has 6,000 times more follicles per square inch than a human head, making it the softest and warmest pelt on earth.
When the remnants of Captain Cook's third voyage reached China from the Pacific North-West, Cook's officers faced mutiny when most of the crew realised what a bonanza had slipped under their noses. One seaman had bought a fur with a broken belt buckle on Vancouver Island; now it fetched a small fortune. A full-scale furry goldrush soon developed and the otter was hunted to the very brink of extinction.
Barely five minutes after seeing the otters we spot our first black bear, a large male rootling out crabs from under boulders. Mike lets the boat drift in and we get close enough to hear the shells cracking in his jaws. The forest behind the bear has clearly been logged in recent years, but Mike assures me that the clear-felling is not as bad as it used to be. Not so long ago loggers would raze entire valleys without a care for the damage. Now the cuts are smaller and less aggressive. Nevertheless, Meares looks like a proper forest to me, whereas much of the main island has that uniform aspect of a plantation.
All told we see three bears, several bald eagles and a clutch of seals. Mike tells me that Meares can be visited by traditional canoe, so back in town I look up Giselle and Simka, daughters of woodcarver Joe Martin. On our paddle out next morning, in yet more mist, Giselle tells me how her father mobilised tribal war canoes to head off the loggers back in 1984.
"Meares is our ancestral land, but they thought they could just take it – like they took everything else before."
The history of many First Nation peoples is a sorry one. Until the 1970s misguided governments were deliberately dismantling their way of life, often aided by missionaries: longhouses were destroyed, languages untaught and children sent to boarding schools. Only now is some rediscovery and rebuilding taking place. The sisters are trying to learn the language of their tribe, the Tla-o-qui-aht, but it is a struggle. "Not many people actually know how to speak it."
After half an hour we reach Meares and tie up under some trees. The path through the forest is a handmade narrow boardwalk that curves and curls through a vast cathedral of trees. This is what I wanted to see: trees as broad as small houses, trees with cavernous interiors, trees growing on trees, trees with streams running under them where tiny salmon hang. This was what all the coastal valleys were once like: covered in cedar forest with specimens so vast that cutting one down was a mammoth task, rarely undertaken. With the arrival of the circular saw in North America in 1814, however, the days of such leafy leviathans were numbered.
We linger for two hours, then struggle to leave as the children in the group cannot be persuaded to stop playing inside the hollow giants.
Although most of that ancestral forest is gone, there are still marvellous landscapes around Tofino. South of the town the Pacific Rim national park hides many great walks through impressive forest to wild empty beaches. And at Ucluelet, 25 miles away, there is a gem of a coastal stroll, with sudden glimpses of wild coves and mist-shrouded islets.
For me, Tofino still has the magic that built its reputation, even if the struggle to maintain such a heritage continues. To this day, Meares Island has no legal protection beyond an injunction granted to the protesters in 1984.
Back at Chesterman, Charles shows me around his hotel, the Wickaninnish Inn. It's full of Henry Nolla's carvings, and though Henry died in 2004, his benign presence still warms the place. There cannot be many places where a hippy beachcomber turns his hand to building a Relais & Chateaux-standard hotel on the site of his own beach hut. The result, however, is one of the world's great hotels.
The Wickaninnish, I decide, is somehow a microcosm of Tofino itself: despite all the luxuries, the backwoods idiosyncrasies come poking through, and wild nature is never far away. In the restaurant one of the waitresses grabs my arm. "Quick! Look!" And out there, where the dark ocean changes to a paler distant line on the horizon, I see a flurry of black-and-white bodies launching themselves from the swell.
"Killer whales," she whispers, and for a few seconds the whole restaurant falls silent and every face turns towards the roaring ocean.


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Rifling machine
Well although it's not a 100% success, it does indeed work.
It consists of:
A piece of 1 inch PVC pipe as a die (note: die is not the appropriate word I just can't recall the right term at the moment.)
A short piece of 1 ¼ inch pipe with a bolt in it as a barring/guide block
A piece of wood with a channel cut through it for part of a barrel clamp. (Originally used to keep the strap from biting in to the "good" wood on a pallet of lumber.)
A few short lengths of perforated strapping, used as clamps for the barrel and guide block, didn't work.
¾ inch oak dowel for a cutter rod.
Part of a screw for a cutter.
Cost: squat, I had all the parts lying around.
Construction time: two days working 2-4 hours in the evening.
Will rifle a barrel up to 25 inches long, with a rate of twist of 1 in 102, theoretically 1 in 102 is the perfect rate of twist for paintballs.
Well after procrastinating for only a year or two the other day I finally decided to stop say I'm going to build a rifling machine and do it.
On deciding that I went out to the barn and grabbed a 2X4 commenced whittling it down to a 1 ½ inch dowel rod, from which I planed to make the die by cutting the reverse of the rifling in to the out side.
After I got the 2X4 whittled down (took over 4 hours) to the dowel it occurred to me that it would be infinitely easer to put the channel in a piece of pipe, a procedure I'd done many times, so I laid out the pattern on a piece of pipe and in les than 30 minutes I had a nice looking die.
Then came the cutter head, my first thought was to bend something up from metal strapping I got as far as trying to figure out how to attach it to the cutting rod, may plan being to use a small screw, the only problem was how to keep the screw from scratching the bore… "Oh, hay, I could just forget the sheet metal thing and use the screw!".
So what's the moral of this story? All that's complex is not useful, all that is useful is simple. Or, keep it simple stupid…
Anyway, the only problem is the clamps won't hold the barrel or the guide block, but other than that it works.
How it works:
First you clam in the barrel, then you adjust the screw to were it'll just barely cut and then push the cutter rod in. the cutter rod rotates with the die, which has the blank of the rifling cut in it.
Run the cutter rod though the barrel till it stops cutting, then turn the screw in just a tad.
Continue till the grove reaches the desired depth then unclamp the barrel and rotate it 90* and start the process over.
You do that 4 times and viola you got your self a rifled barrel.
Now one more thing:
Once I get the bugs worked out would any body like to buy a rifled barrel? If I can get enough people interested I'll make a bigger one, capable of rifling a barrel up to 8 feet long, maybe 9.
Would any of the following interest you?
1.5 inch rifled for slugs 5 inches long
2 inch rifled for 5 inch long slugs
.50 for .50dia round ball
.75 for .75dia round ball
Or is there some other size?
Well thanks for your time here's some pictures.
I would buy a rifled barrel, how long do you think you can make a 2 inch barrel?
Jesus saves, no need to pray
The gates of pearl have turned to gold
It seems you've lost your way
Like I said, up to 9 feet or 108 inches.
How long of a projectile do you plan on shooting 90% of the time?
A caulk tube with fins. So thats maybe a foot and some odd inches?
Jesus saves, no need to pray
The gates of pearl have turned to gold
It seems you've lost your way
can we get a down the barrel pic to see the rifling? looks like a good design though, how deep are the grooves?
ShowNoMercy, Well if I get enough people that want a barrel like that I'll sell you one, you see I need to get enough people on one caliber with one rate of twist to pay for the machine, but after the first run I'll take custom orders. , unless you only want a short barrel, in which case I can cut one for you on my current machine, but do to size limitations max barrel length will still be 25 inches.
ALIHISGREAT, unfortunately none of the down-the-bore pictures came out.
And the groves can be as deep or shallow as needed, I think I could cut all the way through.
Last edited by judgment_arms on Wed Jan 23, 2008 6:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Lol well I think having a rifled 25 inch barrel wouldn't serve me any good so I will anxiously await the new improvements. Do you have any estimate of how much you are charging?
Jesus saves, no need to pray
The gates of pearl have turned to gold
It seems you've lost your way
Sorry I edited to much out of my previous post the first time, but I fixed it, there's now more information there.
As for the price, $1.50-$2.50 U.S. a foot plus shipping, ~$5 U.S. a foot for a custom run (I'll let you know when I start doing custom runs), give or take I'll have to look at the price of pipe.
I'll get some precise numbers in a few minutes.
Okay here's a basic guide for prices:
2" will be $2.00U.S. a foot
1 ½" will be $1.50U.S. a foot
¾" will be $1.00U.S. a foot
½" will be $0.50 a foot
As for custom runs I'll I won't be able to do that for awhile
ANY possibility of rifling copper????? like any at all???
All of my high-accuracy cannons have a copper barrel. Rifling a copper barrel would make my day................
Anyway, I might actually attempt at building one of these, just with some mildy stronger materials so that i can rifle copper, unless you can do it. Id rather pay for it than spend the time to make it because im a lazy american.........
Don't know, never tried, but if were talking half inch round ball (marbles)provided I get enough people that want that (PVC or Copper) then I'll give it a try… heck I think I'll test it out and see if it'll cut with the one I got.
I'll probable need a different cutter but… rifled copper, hum...
Interesting, how did you make your "die" consistent in the first place?
Also, as best I know, the rate of rifling is dependent on muzzle velocity? In that case, how is it possible to say that it's 1 in 102" when you simply can't know what velocity any given launcher will be firing a projectile at?
Does that thing kinda look like a big cat to you?
How'd I make the "die" consistent, I made two rings of paper strung a piece of wire between them. Taped one ring down and twisted the other a quarter turn, the two rings were 25.5 inches apart making the rate of twist .25 in 25.5 inches or 1 in 102 inches.
Then I traced the line made by the wire and cut it out.
If it is that's news to me, in my two years of research I've always heard that rate of twist is the pitch of the rifling, and not dependent on velocity. but thing again I could be seriously mistaken.
I'm was working on making my die for 15mm copper,and this has done it for me I'm going to finish it.
Your method is a single cut method if I am correct?Mine is going to be a cutting die method,I'll keep you posted on how it's going.
Rna_Duelers, I suppose you could call it that, technically it's simply called "cut rifling".
I'm not sure what you mean buy "cutting die", you mean button rifling?
VH_Man, yes, I can indeed rifle copper, just went out and tried it, but it will cost more than PVC.
Any more inquires about barrels should be posted in the thread I'm about to start, I'll post a link to it once I get it started.
Here's the link: Rifled barrels for sale, maybe
Last edited by judgment_arms on Wed Jan 23, 2008 8:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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A siyum Mishnayos was recently held to mark the 89th yahrtzeit of Reb Pinchos Aharon Bruder zt"l. Nine generations of descendants gathered on Monday night, August 1, at Essen on Coney Island Hall in Brooklyn, NY, to celebrate nine generations of Yiddishkeit in America. Those in attendance were from diverse walks of life. Among the families in attendance were the Wilhelms, Webermans, Septimuses, Jacobs, Lewittes, Kranzes, Belskys, and other Bruder family relatives. Those not in attendance were able to participate via live hook-up and Skype in locations such as Baltimore, Toronto, Lakewood, Florida and Monsey.
It was a celebration of shmiras haTorah and mitzvos thanks to mesirus nefesh for Yiddishkeit in America at a time when few were able to withstand the nisyonos they were presented with.
Rabbi Pinchos Aharon Weberman delivered divrei zikaron and spoke about the importance of the family staying united through limud haTorah. Reb Yehuda Septimus was mesayeim.
Reb Pinchos Aharon Jacobs was maschil the next cycle of learning using a set of Shas that belonged to Reb Pinchos Aharon Bruder zt"l.
Plans are underway to include additional relatives for an event to commemorate the 90th yahrtzeit, to be marked by a siyum haShas.
A number of descendants of Reb Pinchos Aharon were instrumental in the founding and establishment of Torah mosdos and Yiddishkeit in America, such as Rav Binyomin Wilhelm zt"l, who was married to a granddaughter of Reb Pinchos Aharon. Rav Wilhelm was the founder of Yeshiva Torah Vodaas, which produced bnei Torah responsible for spreading Torah across the United States. Rav Wilhelm was also the cofounder of Bais Yaakov of Williamsburg and founder of Mifal Torah Vodaas, a kiruv organization in Eretz Yisroel serving Sephardic youth.
Mr. Harold Jacobs z"l, a great-grandson of Reb Pinchos Aharon, was president and chairman of the OU and active in the OU for 30 years.
Rav Chaim Yisroel Belsky zt"l, a great-great-grandson of Rav Pinchos Aharon, was the rosh yeshiva of Yeshiva Torah Vodaas and a world-renowned posek.
Reb Pinchos Aharon and Brocha Bruder reached American shores in 1880 in response to a request by the Shinover Rebbe. The Shinover Chevra, a shul on the Lower East Side, had written to their rebbe, Rav Chezkel Shinover, in Europe, asking him to send them a capable, strictly Orthodox shochet.
According to Rabbi Pinchos Aharon Weberman, Reb Bruder's great-grandson, the Shinover had plans to immigrate to America, because he held that America would be the last of the ten sojourns of the Torah. Since he felt that America would be the greatest makom Torah, he wanted to plant himself and his community there. He therefore wanted to send a shochet there, lehoros lahem makom, to pave the way. The Shinover Rov asked his father, the Divrei Chaim, whom to send. Who could stand up to the great tests that a move to America would entail? They decided on Pinchos Aharon Bruder, who was known not only for his reliable shechitah, but also for his steadfast dedication to Yiddishkeit.
Unaware of the rebbe's plan, Reb Pinchos Aharon went to the Shinover for Yom Tov. During this visit, the rebbe told him to move to the States. Worried about his children's future, Reb Pinchos Aharon was hesitant to take on this duty. The Shinover gave him a brachah that his offspring would remain shomrei Torah. After Yom Tov, Reb Pinchos Aharon went straight from the rebbe to Hamburg to take a boat to America. He didn't want to go home first, because he was afraid that if he would, he would not end up following the rebbe's directive. His family was living in a Galician town – either Barsha or Ropshitz – near the Hungarian border.
Back at home, his wife, Brocha, was resolutely opposed to the idea and worried what people would say about them moving to the "treife medinah." She was embarrassed to face her friends in the streets, but the rebbe had said to go; they had no choice. First, Reb Pinchos Aharon moved alone in order to serve as a shochet. After six months, he had enough money to bring over his wife and six children. Tickets on a boat to America cost $12 a person. They came over on a ship called Silesia, which departed from Hamburg on May 9, 1880.
The Shinover Rebbe passed away and never made it to America, but Reb Pinchos Aharon stayed there for the rest of his life.
After settling on the Lower East Side, the Bruders continued their steadfast commitment to Yiddishkeit and Torah. As the Ridbaz famously described, shechitah in America at that time was a political, shaky business. Supervision was weak, and the shochtim were questionable. Amidst the corruption, in walked Reb Pinchos Aharon, a G-d-fearing shochet on shlichus from the Shinover Rebbe. He raised the standards, and gained enemies in the process. But the opposition did not weaken his resoluteness, and he gradually earned a reputation for reliability and sincerity.
Despite his busy work schedule, Reb Pinchos Aharon learned diligently. He was also a popular mohel, but refused payment for his services. In fact, after performing brisos for poor families, he would leave them money.
The Bruders were well-known for their goodwill and chesed activities. Every Thursday, they packed up many boxes of Shabbos food and distributed them to needy families.
Reb Pinchos Aharon worked in shechitah for twenty-five years, while continuing his chesed and helping people in many ways, including advising many who came to him with their problems. After he retired from shechitah, he dedicated himself full time to his greatest passion, learning Torah. He completed the entire Shas seven times in his life, and even on his death bed was "talking in learning."
Yehi zichro boruch.
1) Rav Binyomin Wilhelm zt"l
2) Reb Pinchos Aharon Bruder zt"l (L) at his children's 50th anniversary celebration.
3) The matzeivah at the kever of Reb Pinchos Aharon Bruder zt"l.
4) Relatives of the Bruder family meeting each other for the first time.
5) R' Yehudah Septimus being mesayeim.
6) Relatives of the Bruder family meeting each other for the first time.
7) Reb Pinchos Aharon Bruder zt"l, in August 1907, in Hunter, NY, were he served as a mashgiach for dairy products.
8) Rav Chaim Yisroel Belsky zt"l, great-great-grandson of Reb Pinchos Aharon Bruder zt"l.