Commodore Quotes

Other people's marriages are a perpetual source of amazement.

So my brain is as stuffed as some old broken-down Commodore you see left in the bush.

Delight is to him -- a far, far upward, and inward delight -- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.

I can’t seem to make sense of you.” “It’s easy, Commodore. Just think of the smartest man you know, remove all the hauteur and bigotry, and add a larger pair of testicles.

Predator is not property,” Grimm said in a calm, level tone. “She is not my possession. She is my home. Her crew are not my employees. They are my family. And if you threaten to take my home and destroy the livelihood of my family again, Commodore, I will be inclined to kill you where you stand.

...irresponsibility was something which, in the very nature of things, could not co-exist with independence.

For you must know, gentlemen, that when the mariner is dosed, he likes to know that he has been dosed: with fifteen grains or even less of this valuable substance scenting him and the very air about him there can be no doubt of the matter; and such is the nature of the human mind that he experiences a far greater real benefit than the drug itself would provide, were it deprived of its stench.

A military hierarchy automatically places a premium on conservative behavior and dull conformance with precedent; it tends to penalize original and imaginative thinking. Commodore Arkwright realized that these tendencies are inherent and inescapable; he hoped to offset them a bit by setting up a course that could not be passed without original thinking.

When Jack came in he found him sitting before a tray of bird's skins and labels. Stephen looked up, and after a moment said, 'To a tormented mind there is nothing, I believe, more irritating than comfort. Apart from anything else it often implies superior wisdom in the comforter. But I am very sorry for your trouble, my dear.' 'Thank you, Stephen. Had you told me that there was always a tomorrow, I think I should have thrust your calendar down your throat.

Did your mathematical studies ever reach to the quadratic equation, Stephen?' 'They did not reach to the far end of the multiplication table.

Stephen had been put to sleep in his usual room, far from children and noise, away in that corner of the house which looked down to the orchard and the bowling-green, and in spite of his long absence it was so familiar to him that when he woke at about three he made his way to the window almost as quickly as if dawn had already broken, opened it and walked out onto the balcony. The moon had set: there was barely a star to be seen. The still air was delightfully fresh with falling dew, and a late nightingale, in an indifferent voice, was uttering a routine jug-jug far down in Jack's plantations; closer at hand and more agreeable by far, nightjars churred in the orchard, two of them, or perhaps three, the sound rising and falling, intertwining so that the source could not be made out for sure. There were few birds that he preferred to nightjars, but it was not they that had brought him out of bed: he stood leaning on the balcony rail and presently Jack Aubrey, in a summer-house by the bowling-green, began again, playing very gently in the darkness, improvising wholly for himself, dreaming away on his violin with a mastery that Stephen had never heard equalled, though they had played together for years and years. Like many other sailors Jack Aubrey had long dreamed of lying in his warm bed all night long; yet although he could now do so with a clear conscience he often rose at unChristian hours, particularly if he were moved by strong emotion, and crept from his bedroom in a watch-coat, to walk about the house or into the stables or to pace the bowling-green. Sometimes he took his fiddle with him. He was in fact a better player than Stephen, and now that he was using his precious Guarnieri rather than a robust sea-going fiddle the difference was still more evident: but the Guarnieri did not account for the whole of it, nor anything like. Jack certainly concealed his excellence when they were playing together, keeping to Stephen's mediocre level: this had become perfectly clear when Stephen's hands were at last recovered from the thumb-screws and other implements applied by French counter-intelligence officers in Minorca; but on reflexion Stephen thought it had been the case much earlier, since quite apart from his delicacy at that period, Jack hated showing away. Now, in the warm night, there was no one to be comforted, kept in countenance, no one could scorn him for virtuosity, and he could let himself go entirely; and as the grave and subtle music wound on and on, Stephen once more contemplated on the apparent contradiction between the big, cheerful, florid sea-officer whom most people liked on sight but who would have never been described as subtle or capable of subtlety by any one of them (except perhaps his surviving opponents in battle) and the intricate, reflective music he was now creating. So utterly unlike his limited vocabulary in words, at times verging upon the inarticulate. 'My hands have now regained the moderate ability they possessed before I was captured,' observed Maturin, 'but his have gone on to a point I never thought he could reach: his hands and his mind. I am amazed. In his own way he is the secret man of the world.

Going to take a room at the Commodore, get into a hot bath and open a vein.

Commodore did not have a reputation for fun and games in 1980—they were CBM, the business machine company.

Commodore Norrington: You are without a doubt the worst pirate I've ever heard of. Captain Sparrow: But you HAVE heard of me.

But they had lost Zeus, and so shortly after he had already lost his main father figure, Commodore Saroudis.

then come back here to build a home. And there would be dragonets, if she wanted them. Clearsight felt a sudden, dizzying rush of love for dragons who weren’t even eggs yet: little Jewel, and whip-smart Tortoiseshell, and cuddly Orange (who names their dragonet Orange? Sunstreak, apparently. They might have to have some conversations about that plan), and Commodore, the king of giggles.

For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it.

The men wondered whether Cheap, like Captain Kidd and Commodore Anson, understood that the secret to establishing command was not tyrannizing men but convincing, sympathizing, and inspiring them—or if he would be one of those despots who ruled by the lash.

Years had passed, and years had a bad name: a verse of Horace floated into his mind: Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes; eripuere jocos, Venerem, convivia, ludum… and for a moment he tried to make a tolerable English version; but his The years in passing rob us of our delight, of merriment and carnal love, of each in turn, all sport and dining out… did not please him and he abandoned the attempt.

It was said that one of the least of these erring children was the first patriot to name President Windrip "the Chief," meaning Führer, or Imperial Wizard of the K.K.K., or Il Duce, or Imperial Potentate of the Mystic Shrine, or Commodore, or University Coach, or anything else supremely noble and good-hearted.

There is an ancient saying,' noted Ironflanks, 'originating, I believe, from you fastbloods. The truth will set you free.' 'No, old steamer,' said the commodore. 'In my experience, the truth will get you sent to the bottom of the ocean with an anchor chain wrapped around your legs to buy your silence. But it's the truth I need, all the same.

Calligraphy,” said Plato, “is the physical manifestation of an architecture of the soul.” That being so, mine must be a turf-and-wattle kind of soul, since my handwriting would be disowned by a backward cat; whereas yours, particularly on your charts, has a most elegant flow and clarity, the outward form of a soul that might have conceived the Parthenon.

Computers for the masses, not the classes.

Computer business are like fruit market on a Saturday night. If you don't sell it at five o'clock, the price is down tomorrow because the fruit's no good the next day. You'd better sell it now.

Dr Maturin had many of the virtues required in a medical man... yet he had some faults, and one was a habit of dosing himself, generally from a spirit of inquiry, as in his period of inhaling large quantities of the nitrous oxide and of the vapour of hemp, to say nothing of tobacco, bhang in all its charming varieties in India, betel in Java and the neighbouring islands, qat in the Red Sea, and hallucinating cacti in South America, but sometimes for relief from distress, as when he became addicted to opium in one form or another; and now he was busily poisoning himself with coca-leaves, whose virtue he had learnt in Peru.

Commodore Koudelka had just taken a mouthful of wine to chase his last bite of salmon. The atomized spray arced nearly to Delia, seated across from her father. A lungful of wine in a man that age was an alarming event in any case; Olivia patted his back in hesitant worry, as he buried his reddening face in his napkin and gasped. Drou half-pushed her chair back, as she hesitated between going up around the table to assist her husband or, possibly, down the table to strangle Mark.

The squadron of men-of-war and transports was collected, the commodore’s flag hoisted, and the expedition sailed with most secret orders, which, as usual, were as well known to the enemy, and everybody in England, as they were to those by whom they were given. It is the characteristic of our nation, that we scorn to take any unfair advantage, or reap any benefit, by keeping our intentions a secret. We imitate the conduct of that English tar, who, having entered a fort, and meeting a Spanish officer without his sword, being providentially supplied with two cut-lasses himself, immediately offered him one, that they might engage on fair terms. The idea is generous, but not wise. But I rather imagine that this want of secrecy arises from all matters of importance being arranged by cabinet councils. In the multitude of counsellors there may be wisdom, but there certainly is not secrecy. Twenty men have probably twenty wives, and it is therefore twenty to one but the secret transpires through that channel. Further, twenty men have twenty tongues; and much as we complain of women not keeping secrets, I suspect that men deserve the odium of the charge quite as much, if not more, than women do. On the whole, it is forty to one against secrecy, which, it must be acknowledged, are long odds. On the arrival of the squadron at the point of attack, a few more days were thrown away,—probably upon the same generous principle of allowing the enemy sufficient time for preparation.

The great tea masters were concerned to make of the divine wonder an experienced moment; then out of the teahouse the influence was carried into the home; and out of the home distilled into the nation. During the long and peaceful Tokugawa period (1603-1868), before the arrival of Commodore Perry in 1854, the texture of Japanese life became so imbued with significant formalization that existence to the slightest detail was a conscious expression of eternity, the landscape itself a shrine. p144

The latest, greatest cyborg critters may come not from state-of-the-art labs, but the minds of curious kids and individual hobbyists. Though scientists will continue to build their cyborg animals, Maharbiz says he fully expects that ‘kids will be able to hack these things, like they wrote code in the Commodore 64 days.’ We are heading toward a world in which anyone with a little time, money, and imagination can commandeer an animal’s brain. That’s as good a reason as any to start thinking about where we’d draw our ethical lines.

Tiny hardware malfunctions can produce outsized risks. In 1980 a single faulty computer chip costing forty-six cents almost triggered a major nuclear incident over the Pacific. And in perhaps the most well-known case, nuclear catastrophe was only avoided during the Cuban missile crisis when one man, the acting Russian commodore, Vasili Arkhipov, refused to give an order to fire nuclear torpedoes. The two other officers on the submarine, convinced they were under attack, had brought the world within a split second of full-scale nuclear war.

I always go to the sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and the pure air of the forecastle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it.

After the huge push for CES, it was time for Amiga to sort a few things out. First, the Amiga systems engineers began producing 100 Lorraine developer systems to hand out to companies like Activision, Electronic Arts, Infocom, and Microsoft. At the time, Commodore programmer Andy Finkel was helping Infocom in Cambridge to port its games to the C64. “That was where I first got a hint of the Amiga,” says Finkel. “There was this locked room where I couldn’t go, even though I could go anywhere else in the building. The Infocom tech people would sneak in and work on the computer. They told me there was a secret computer that they couldn’t talk about.

They really haven’t told you anything about the future, have they? This is my phone.” “A phone. You use it as a phone. You carry around a device that’s the size of a deck of cards and is more powerful than a Cray supercomputer, and you use it as a phone?” “I also play games on it, and watch a movie occasionally.” “You can watch movies on that?” “Not many. I mean, I only have a sixteen-gig memory card in it.” Phillip muttered, almost to himself, “My Commodore has sixty-four kilobytes of memory and a floppy drive that stores one hundred and seventy K. You can double that, but you have to cut a notch in the disk.” Then, loud and clear, Phillip said, “I kind of hate you right now.

Delight is to him—a far, far upward, and inward delight—who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self. Delight is to him whose strong arms yet support him, when the ship of this base treacherous world has gone down beneath him. Delight is to him, who gives no quarter in the truth, and kills, burns, and destroys all sin though he pluck it out from under the robes of Senators and Judges. Delight,—top-gallant delight is to him, who acknowledges no law or lord, but the Lord his God, and is only a patriot to heaven. Delight is to him, whom all the waves of the billows of the seas of the boisterous mob can never shake from this sure Keel of the Ages.

When Elon was nearly ten years old, he saw a computer for the first time, at the Sandton City Mall in Johannesburg. “There was an electronics store that mostly did hi-fi-type stuff, but then, in one corner, they started stocking a few computers,” Musk said. He felt awed right away—“It was like, ‘Whoa. Holy shit!’”—by this machine that could be programmed to do a person’s bidding. “I had to have that and then hounded my father to get the computer,” Musk said. Soon he owned a Commodore VIC-20, a popular home machine that went on sale in 1980. Elon’s computer arrived with five kilobytes of memory and a workbook on the BASIC programming language. “It was supposed to take like six months to get through all the lessons,” Elon said. “I just got super OCD on it and stayed up for three days with no sleep and did the entire thing. It seemed like the most super-compelling thing I had ever seen.” Despite being an engineer, Musk’s father was something of a Luddite and dismissive of the machine. Elon recounted that “he said it was just for games and that you’d never be able to do real engineering on it. I just said, ‘Whatever.’” While

Jack, Jack,’ cried Stephen, running in. ‘I have been sadly remiss. You are promoted, I find. You are a great man – you are virtually an admiral! Give you joy, my dear, with all my heart. The young man in black clothes tells me you are the greatest man on the station, after the Commander-in-chief.’ ‘Why, I am commodore, as most people have the candour to admit,’ said Jack. ‘But I did mention it before, if you recollect. I spoke of my pendant.’ ‘So you did, joy; but perhaps I did not fully apprehend its true significance. I had a cloudy notion that the word commodore and indeed that curious little flag were connected with a ship rather than with a man – I am almost sure that we called the most important ship in the East India fleet, the ship commanded by the excellent Mr Muffit, the commodore. Pray explain this new and splendid rank of yours.’ ‘Stephen, if I tell you, will you attend?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘I have told you a great deal about the Navy before this, and you have not attended. Only yesterday I heard you give Farquhar a very whimsical account of the difference between the halfdeck and the quarterdeck, and to this day I do not believe you know the odds between . . .

(he was a great believer in the healing powers of cheerfulness, if not of open mirth). Yet he had some faults, and one was a habit of dosing himself, generally from a spirit of enquiry, as in his period of inhaling large quantities of the nitrous oxide and of the vapour of hemp, to say nothing of tobacco, bhang in all its charming varieties in India, betel in Java and the neighbouring islands, qat in the Red Sea, and hallucinating cacti in South America, but sometimes for relief from distress, as when he became addicted to opium in one form or another; and now he was busily poisoning himself with coca-leaves, whose virtue he had learnt in Peru.

She could move in with an affable, very old LeafWing named Maple, who spoke the old language, or she could find her own tree hollow to live in, or she could explore the new continent first, then come back here to build a home. And there would be dragonets, if she wanted them. Clearsight felt a sudden, dizzying rush of love for dragons who weren’t even eggs yet: little Jewel, and whip-smart Tortoiseshell, and cuddly Orange (who names their dragonet Orange? Sunstreak, apparently. They might have to have some conversations about that plan), and Commodore, the king of giggles. She would always miss the dragonets she should have had with Darkstalker, but she would love the ones that were coming with all her heart. And nothing bad would ever ever happen to them. They would all live the longest, happiest lives, because she would be here, tracking their paths, keeping them safe. She would get it right this time. “Your rootplace,” Sunstreak said, gently interrupting her thoughts. “Where?” She pointed back out to sea. “Pyrrhia.” She waved her claws at the continent around them. “This? Where?” she asked. He smiled again. “Pantala,” he said slowly and clearly, and with evident pride. “Pantala,” she echoed back. The lost continent is real, and it has a name. And it’s my home now. Pantala, here I am. TUI T.

The collapse, for example, of IBM’s legendary 80-year-old hardware business in the 1990s sounds like a classic P-type story. New technology (personal computers) displaces old (mainframes) and wipes out incumbent (IBM). But it wasn’t. IBM, unlike all its mainframe competitors, mastered the new technology. Within three years of launching its first PC, in 1981, IBM achieved $5 billion in sales and the #1 position, with everyone else either far behind or out of the business entirely (Apple, Tandy, Commodore, DEC, Honeywell, Sperry, etc.). For decades, IBM dominated computers like Pan Am dominated international travel. Its $13 billion in sales in 1981 was more than its next seven competitors combined (the computer industry was referred to as “IBM and the Seven Dwarfs”). IBM jumped on the new PC like Trippe jumped on the new jet engines. IBM owned the computer world, so it outsourced two of the PC components, software and microprocessors, to two tiny companies: Microsoft and Intel. Microsoft had all of 32 employees. Intel desperately needed a cash infusion to survive. IBM soon discovered, however, that individual buyers care more about exchanging files with friends than the brand of their box. And to exchange files easily, what matters is the software and the microprocessor inside that box, not the logo of the company that assembled the box. IBM missed an S-type shift—a change in what customers care about. PC clones using Intel chips and Microsoft software drained IBM’s market share. In 1993, IBM lost $8.1 billion, its largest-ever loss. That year it let go over 100,000 employees, the largest layoff in corporate history. Ten years later, IBM sold what was left of its PC business to Lenovo. Today, the combined market value of Microsoft and Intel, the two tiny vendors IBM hired, is close to $1.5 trillion, more than ten times the value of IBM. IBM correctly anticipated a P-type loonshot and won the battle. But it missed a critical S-type loonshot, a software standard, and lost the war.

It was a damned near-run thing, I must admit,' said Jack, modestly; then after a pause he laughed and said, 'I remember your using those very words in the old Bellerophon, before we had our battle.' 'So I did,' cried Dundas. 'So I did. Lord, that was a great while ago.' 'I still bear the scar,' said Jack. He pushed up his sleeve, and there on his brown forearm was a long white line. 'How it comes back,' said Dundas; and between them, drinking port, they retold the tale, with minute details coming fresh to their minds. As youngsters, under the charge of the gunner of the Bellerophon, 74, in the West Indies, they had played the same game. Jack, with his infernal luck, had won on that occasion too: Dundas claimed his revenge, and lost again, again on a throw of double six. Harsh words, such as cheat, liar, sodomite, booby and God-damned lubber flew about; and since fighting over a chest, the usual way of settling such disagreements in many ships, was strictly forbidden in the Bellemphon, it was agreed that as gentlemen could not possibly tolerate such language they should fight a duel. During the afternoon watch the first lieutenant, who dearly loved a white-scoured deck, found that the ship was almost out of the best kind of sand, and he sent Mr Aubrey away in the blue cutter to fetch some from an island at the convergence of two currents where the finest and most even grain was found. Mr Dundas accompanied him, carrying two newly sharpened cutlasses in a sailcloth parcel, and when the hands had been set to work with shovels the two little boys retired behind a dune, unwrapped the parcel, saluted gravely, and set about each other. Half a dozen passes, the blades clashing, and when Jack cried out 'Oh Hen, what have you done?' Dundas gazed for a moment at the spurting blood, burst into tears, whipped off his shirt and bound up the wound as best he could. When they crept aboard a most unfortunately idle, becalmed and staring Bellerophon, their explanations, widely different and in both cases so weak that they could not be attempted to be believed, were brushed aside, and their captain flogged them severely on the bare breech. 'How we howled,' said Dundas. 'You were shriller than I was,' said Jack. 'Very like a hyena.

«Hai il dono di comparire proprio quando la mia mente è piena del tuo nome e perfino della tua immagine. Ma, Stephen, mio caro, sei così pallido e magro! Ti danno da mangiare? Sei stato malato? Sei in licenza, senza dubbio. Devi fermarti qui per molto tempo, il colonnello ti rimpinzerà di salmone, di anguille affumicate e di trote, tornerà prima di cena. Mio Dio, sono così felice di vederti, mio caro! Vieni ora, riposati, sembri distrutto. Vieni a coricarti nel mio letto.» «Devo venire nel tuo letto?» «Ma certo che devi venire nel mio letto: e non devi lasciarlo più. Stephen, non devi tornare sul mare mai più»

Pochi uccelli Stephen preferiva ai succiacapre, ma non era stato il loro canto a farlo scendere dal letto. Rimase fermo, appoggiato alla ringhiera, e poco dopo Jack Aubrey, in un padiglione presso il campo di bocce, ricominciò a suonare con grande dolcezza nel buio, improvvisando solo per sé, fantasticando sul suo violino con una maestria che Stephen non aveva mai conosciuto in lui, sebbene avessero suonato insieme per tanti anni.[...] In effetti suonava meglio di Stephen, e ora che stava usando il suo prezioso Guarnieri invece del robusto strumento adatto al mare, la differenza era ancora più marcata: ma il Guarnieri non bastava a spiegarla del tutto, assolutamente no. Quando suonavano insieme, Jack nascondeva la propria eccellenza, mantenendosi al mediocre livello di Stephen [...]; mentre rifletteva su questo, Maturin si rese conto a un tratto che era sempre stato così: Jack, indipendentemente dalle condizioni di Stephen, detestava mettersi in mostra. Ma in quel momento, in quella notte tiepida, ora che non vi era nessuno da sostenere moralmente, cui dare il proprio appoggio, nessuno che potesse criticare il suo virtuosismo, Jack poteva lasciarsi andare completamente; e mentre la musica grave e delicata continuava a diffondersi, Stephen si stupì una volta di più dell'apparente contraddizione tra il grande e grosso ufficiale di marina, florido e allegro [...] e la musica pensosa, complessa che quello stesso uomo stava ora creando. Una musica che contrastava immensamente con il suo limitato vocabolario, un vocabolario che lo rendeva talvolta quasi incapace di esprimersi.

«I matrimoni degli altri sono una perpetua fonte di perplessità», commentò Stephen.

As history has shown, any new computing device capable of running a game will, by hook or by crook, soon have them available. (aka, the "Loguidice Law")

Shortly after Seward departed, a report arrived from China that the U.S. Navy commodore in command of the American squadron had come to the aid of the Royal Navy during a fierce battle to capture the Taku forts in northeastern China. The U.S. commodore explained his decision to join the fight by declaring “blood is thicker than water.” This

High-tech companies need three players in order to succeed: a financier, a technology god, and a juggernaut with a Type A personality.

BUZZ OSBORNE: I thought that Primus—the first time I heard them—was like a combination of the Residents mixed with Captain Beefheart, and Larry Graham thrown in there. That was my impression of it. Unfortunately for them, they’re lumped into that Red Hot Chili Peppers kind of thing a little bit more than they probably deserve. That is not my thing. That’s not my world. That kind of music is like the soundtrack to a date rape at a frat party. I’ve never been interested in the beer-bong set. And when I lived in San Francisco, when I first moved there in the mid-’80s, it was funk metal bands and bands that sounded like Metallica. And that was it. And the funk metal bands I thought was some of the worst crap that I’d ever heard—even worse than the metal bands. Actually, I once saw one of those bands play a barely ironic version of “Brick House” by the Commodores. I was like, I’m done.

The mere thought of the Chosen female made him close his eyes and falter his feet on the stairs. But then he threw off the sting. ’Cuz it was either that or go into a black-hole tailspin. The good news? He’d spent a lot of time over the last nine months trying to pull his mind, his emotions, his soul off the topic of Selena. So he was used to this kind of power lifting. Unfortunately, she remained a constant preoccupation, as if he had a low-level fever that dogged him no matter how much he slept and attempted to eat right. And on some nights, it was a lot more than preoccupation—which was why he’d had to leave the Brotherhood mansion at times and crash back at his condo at the Commodore. After all, bonded males could be dangerous, and the fact that he wasn’t with her—and shouldn’t be—meant absolutely nothing to that side of him. Especially when she was feeding fighters who could not, for whatever reason, take their mates’ veins. It was straight-up crazy.

The PET was the first totally assembled, totally integrated computer with all the necessary components for software distribution and development.

Japan’s economy had remained strong. So called ‘Dutch’ learning- useful Western knowledge- was circulating in Japan well before Commodore Perry’s arrival. A strong local tradition of banker-merchants and an efficient tax collection system meant that the Japanese economy was not crippled by foreign loans of the kind that banished Egypt, the first non-Western country to modernize, to the ranks of permanent losers in the international economy.

Having completed its conquest of California in 1844, the United States looked across the Pacific for new business opportunities. In 1853, Commodore Matthew Perry sailed into Tokyo (then called Edo) Bay with four men-of-war, and handed over a letter for the Japanese emperor from the American president which began with the ominous words, ‘You know that the United States of America now extend from sea to sea.’ Denied an audience with the emperor, Perry retreated with subtle threats to return with more firepower if the Japanese did not agree to open their ports to American trade. They refused. He did as he said; and the Japanese succumbed.

admiral. “This Hocklyn War Leader or Commodore isn’t taking any chances.

Finlander: Fire Control. Ralston: Sir. Finlander: Arm number one ASROC. Ralston: Aye aye, sir. Number one ASROC armed and ready sir. Schrepke: Captain you are a fool! Munceford: Finlander, leave it alone. Finlander: Take it easy Ralston. Ralston: All systems in automatic control, sir. Weapons armed and ready. Finlander: Take it easy. Ralston: Fire Control a-ok sir. All systems armed and ready. Schrepke: This is insane! Finlander: Now don't worry Commodore. The Bedford will never fire first. But if he fires one I'll fire one. Ralston: Fire one!

It must be a weary life, being in a permanent state of rage or at least at half-cock.

Doom, meanwhile, had a long-term impact on the world of gaming far exceeding even that of Myst. The latest of a series of experiments with interactive 3D graphics by id programmer John Carmack, Doom shares with Myst only its immersive first-person point of view; in all other respects, this fast-paced, ultraviolent shooter is the polar opposite of the cerebral Myst. Whereas the world of Myst is presented as a collection of static nodes that the player can move among, each represented by a relatively static picture of its own, the world of Doom is contiguous. As the player roams about, Doom must continually recalculate in real time the view of the world that it presents to her on the screen, in effect drawing for her a completely new picture with every frame using a vastly simplified version of the 3D-rendering techniques that Eric Graham began experimenting with on the Amiga back in 1986. First-person viewpoints had certainly existed in games previously, but mostly in the context of flight simulators, of puzzle-oriented adventures such as Myst, or of space-combat games such as Elite. Doom has a special quality that those earlier efforts lack in that the player embodies her avatar as she moves through 3D space in a way that feels shockingly, almost physically real. She does not view the world through a windscreen, is not separated from it by an adventure game’s point-and-click mechanics and static artificiality. Doom marks a revolutionary change in action gaming, the most significant to come about between the videogame’s inception and the present. If the player directs the action in a game such as Menace, Doom makes her feel as if she is in the action, in the game’s world. Given the Amiga platform’s importance as a tool for noninteractive 3D rendering, it is ironic that the Amiga is uniquely unsuited to Doom and the many iterations and clones of it that would follow. Most of the Amiga attributes that we employed in the Menace reconstruction—its scrolling playfields, its copper, its sprites—are of no use to a 3D-engine programmer. Indeed, the Intel-based machines on which Carmack created Doom possess none of these features. Even the Amiga’s bitplane-based playfields, the source of so many useful graphical tricks and hacks when programming a 2D game such as Menace, are an impediment and annoyance in a game such as Doom. Much preferable are the Intel-based machines’ straightforward chunky playfields because these layouts are much easier to work with when every frame of video must be drawn afresh from scratch. What is required most of all for a game such as Doom is sufficient raw processing power to perform the necessary thousands of calculations needed to render each frame quickly enough to support the frenetic action for which the game is known. By 1993, the plebian Intel-based computer, so long derided by Amiga owners for its inefficiencies and lack of design imagination, at last possessed this raw power. The Amiga simply had no answer to the Intel 80486s and Pentiums that powered this new, revolutionary genre of first-person shooters. Throughout

I was one of those people who went off to see if I could make life harder on myself.

Although earlier computers existed in isolation from the world, requiring their visuals and sound to be generated and live only within their memory, the Amiga was of the world, able to interface with it in all its rich analog glory. It was the first PC with a sufficient screen resolution and color palette as well as memory and processing power to practically store and display full-color photographic representations of the real world, whether they be scanned in from photographs, captured from film or video, or snapped live by a digitizer connected to the machine. It could be used to manipulate video, adding titles, special effects, or other postproduction tricks. And it was also among the first to make practical use of recordings of real-world sound. The seeds of the digital-media future, of digital cameras and Photoshop and MP3 players, are here. The Amiga was the first aesthetically satisfying PC. Although the generation of machines that preceded it were made to do many remarkable things, works produced on them always carried an implied asterisk; “Remarkable,” we say, “. . . for existing on such an absurdly limited platform.” Even the Macintosh, a dramatic leap forward in many ways, nevertheless remained sharply limited by its black-and-white display and its lack of fast animation capabilities. Visuals produced on the Amiga, however, were in full color and could often stand on their own terms, not as art produced under huge technological constraints, but simply as art. And in allowing game programmers to move beyond blocky, garish graphics and crude sound, the Amiga redefined the medium of interactive entertainment as being capable of adult sophistication and artistry. The seeds of the aesthetic future, of computers as everyday artistic tools, ever more attractive computer desktops, and audiovisually rich virtual worlds, are here. The Amiga empowered amateur creators by giving them access to tools heretofore available only to the professional. The platform’s most successful and sustained professional niche was as a video-production workstation, where an Amiga, accompanied by some relatively inexpensive software and hardware peripherals, could give the hobbyist amateur or the frugal professional editing and postproduction capabilities equivalent to equipment costing tens or hundreds of thousands. And much of the graphical and musical creation software available for the machine was truly remarkable. The seeds of the participatory-culture future, of YouTube and Flickr and even the blogosphere, are here. The

Amanda looked over at Lieutenants Stalls and Trask; it was comforting to see at least two familiar faces. - At Kenward Seven, High Leader Nartel was in the largest of the four massive shipyards that orbited the planet. He was meeting with Fleet Commodore Resmunt, Fleet Commodore Versith, Commodore Tantil, and Commodore Parco. “How many ships do we have updated?” he demanded in his harsh, commanding voice. “A little over two thousand,” answered Fleet Commodore Resmunt, recalling the latest figures. “We still have an additional four hundred to be updated in the next few weeks. Once they are done we shall have updated all of the warships in our region of space.” “Excellent!” Nartel responded, pleased to hear that they were nearly ready to go back on the offensive. “The other shipyards in the different

Do you know Ron Tracy?” Gary said to me one day over breakfast. “Met him for five seconds when he took over the Republic,” I said. “He’s taking command of the Exeter. Offered me helmsman.” “I thought Mendez offered you exec on the Astral Queen.” “So?” Gary said. “So the word is he’s going to make commodore soon. You’d be in position to get command.” “No guarantee of that,” Gary said, “and if you offer me exec somewhere,

I am so happy,’ observed Jack, after a moment; and indeed he could be seen swelling with it. ‘But what was that about beer?’ ‘I asked whether we were still in the beer region, or domain, that part of the ocean in which the beer we bring from home and which we serve out daily at the absurd and criminal rate of a gallon – a gallon: eight pints! – a head, is still available. Has the beer not yet given way to the even more pernicious grog?’ ‘I believe we are still on beer. We do not usually run out before we raise the Peak of Tenerife. Should you like some?’ ‘If you please. I particularly need a light, gentle sleep tonight; and beer, a respectable ship’s beer, is the most virtuous hypnotic known to man.

A few days later, on December 8, at the Commodore Hotel in New York, the Amateur Athletic Union of the United States voted on a resolution to send a three-man committee to Germany to investigate claims of Nazi maltreatment of Jews there. When all the votes—including fractional votes—had been tallied, the resolution had failed, 58.25 to 55.75. And with that—after several years of struggle—the last serious American effort to boycott the Berlin Olympics was effectively dead. In many ways it was a victory for the thousands of young Americans who were then competing for a chance to participate in the Olympics. It was also a victory for Avery Brundage, president of the American Olympic Committee, and his allies who had fought tooth and nail to ensure that there was no boycott. Most of all it was a victory for Adolf Hitler, who was rapidly learning just how ready the world was to be deceived.

Only a stock that many traders were selling short could be cornered; a stock that was in the throes of a real bear raid was ideal. In the latter situation, the would-be cornerer would attempt to buy up the investment houses’ floating supply of the stock and enough of the privately held shares to freeze out the bears; if the attempt succeeded, when he called for the short sellers to make good the stock they had borrowed, they could buy it from no one but him. And they would have to buy it at any price he chose to ask, their only alternatives—at least theoretically—being to go into bankruptcy or to jail for failure to meet their obligations. In the old days of titanic financial death struggles, when Adam Smith’s ghost still smiled on Wall Street, corners were fairly common and were often extremely sanguinary, with hundreds of innocent bystanders, as well as the embattled principals, getting their financial heads lopped off. The most famous cornerer in history was that celebrated old pirate, Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt, who engineered no less than three successful corners during the eighteen-sixties. Probably his classic job was in the stock of the Harlem Railway. By dint of secretly buying up all its available shares while simultaneously circulating a series of untruthful rumors of imminent bankruptcy to lure the short sellers in, he achieved an airtight trap. Finally, with the air of a man doing them a favor by saving them from jail, he offered the cornered shorts at $179 a share the stock he had bought up at a small fraction of that figure.

He watched as they lifted their hats and stiffened as the commodore’s pennant, the confusingly named ‘broad pendant’, reached the masthead – all correct and showing proper respect.

Hornblower sat in his private sitting-room in the Golden Cross inn. There was a fire burning, and on the table at which he sat there were no fewer than four wax candles lighted. All this luxury — the private sitting-room, the fire, the wax candles — gave Hornblower uneasy delight. He had been poor for so long, he had had to scrape and economize so carefully all his life, that recklessness with money gave him this queer dubious pleasure, this guilty joy. His bill tomorrow would contain an item of at least half a crown for light, and if he had been content with rush dips the charge would not have been more than twopence. The fire would be a shilling, too. And you could trust an innkeeper to make the maximum charges to a guest who obviously could afford them, a Knight of the Bath, with a servant, and a two-horse chariot. Tomorrow’s bill would be nearer two guineas than one, Hornblower touched his breast pocket to reassure himself that his thick wad of one-pound notes was still there. He could afford to spend

It is tempting to regard the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor as a lawless act for which there can be no justification or excuse. For Americans, December 7 remains “a date which will live in infamy,” in the words of President Roosevelt. But the devastating strike on the United States was not lawless. Japan was simply following the law of nations that U.S. Commodore Matthew Perry’s black ships had introduced in 1854. What Japan failed to recognize, however, was that those rules had been renounced in 1928. The United States itself had only recently come to terms with the complete transformation in the legal order initiated by the Pact—it finally embraced the new understanding of neutrality with the passage of the Lend-Lease Act in March 1941, only six months before Pearl Harbor.

Ma’am?” the chief croaked. “Commodore’s orders, Chief,” Milla said. “I assure you, I am no happier with this than you are.” “Small comfort, ma’am.

But I still remember when typewriters were useful, the dawn of the Commodore 64, and days when a song you loved would have its moment on the radio and then disappear into the nothing.

Japan, a country that had done its best to have no contact with strangers and to seal out the rest of the world. Its economy and politics were dominated by feudal agriculture and a Confucian hierarchical social structure, and they were steadily declining. Merchants were the lowest social class, and trading with foreigners was actually forbidden except for limited contact with China and the Dutch. But then Japan had an unexpected encounter with a stranger—Commodore Matthew Perry—who burst in on July 8, 1853, demanding that Japan’s ports be open to America for trade and insisting on better treatment for shipwrecked sailors. His demands were rebuffed, but Perry came back a year later with a bigger fleet and more firepower. He explained to the Japanese the virtues of trading with other countries, and eventually they signed the Treaty of Kanagawa on March 31, 1854, opening the Japanese market to foreign trade and ending two hundred years of near isolation. The encounter shocked the Japanese political elites, forcing them to realize just how far behind the United States and other Western nations Japan had fallen in military technology. This realization set in motion an internal revolution that toppled the Tokugawa Shogunate, which had ruled Tokyo in the name of the emperor since 1603, and brought Emperor Meiji, and a coalition of reformers, in his place. They chose adaptation by learning from those who had defeated them. They launched a political, economic, and social transformation of Japan, based on the notion that if they wanted to be as strong as the West they had to break from their current cultural norms and make a wholesale adoption of Western science, technology, engineering, education, art, literature, and even clothing and architecture. It turned out to be more difficult than they thought, but the net result was that by the late nineteenth century Japan had built itself into a major industrial power with the heft to not only reverse the unequal economic treaties imposed on it by Western powers but actually defeat one of those powers—Russia—in a war in 1905. The Meiji Restoration made Japan not only more resilient but also more powerful.

With Wescon rapidly approaching, and no manual in sight, Sehnal approached John Paivinen and told him, “He’s not doing it.” “John Paivinen walked into my office with a security guard, and he walked me out of the building,” recalls Peddle. According to Peddle, Paivinen gave him explicit instructions. “The only people you’re allowed to talk to in our company is your secretary, who you can dictate stuff to, and Petr. You can’t come back to work until you finish the two manuals.” Peddle accepted the situation with humility. “I wrote them under duress.” A week later, with Petr Sehnal editing, he emerged from his exile with his task complete.

As the 1970s drew to a close, and Commodore, Tandy, Altair, and Apple began to emerge from the sidelines, PARC director Bert Sutherland asked Larry Tesler to assess what some analysts were already predicting to be the coming era of “hobby and personal computers.” “I think that the era of the personal computer is here,” Tesler countered; “PARC has kept involved in the world of academic computing, but we have largely neglected the world of personal computing which we helped to found.”41 His warning went largely unheeded. Xerox Corporation’s parochial belief that computers need only talk to printers and filing cabinets and not to each other meant that the “office of the future” remained an unfulfilled promise, and in the years between 1978 and 1982 PARC experienced a dispersal of core talent that rivals the flight of Greek scholars during the declining years of Byzantium: Charles Simonyi brought the Alto’s Bravo text editing program to Redmond, Washington, where it was rebooted as Microsoft Word; Robert Metcalf used the Ethernet protocol he had invented at PARC to found the networking giant, 3Com; John Warnock and Charles Geschke, tiring of an unresponsive bureaucracy, took their InterPress page description language and founded Adobe Systems; Tesler himself brought the icon-based, object-oriented Smalltalk programming language with him when he joined the Lisa engineering team at Apple, and Tim Mott, his codeveloper of the Gypsy desktop interface, became one of the founders of Electronic Arts—five startups that would ultimately pay off the mortgages and student loans of many hundreds of industrial, graphic, and interaction designers, and provide the tools of the trade for untold thousands of others.

Leelan,” Wrath barked as he exploded up from his chair. There were all kinds of deep-voiced greetings, but his brothers got out of the way so that she had a clear shot into his arms. And as he lifted her up, he was careful to put no pressure on her belly. “How are you?” he whispered in her ear, knowing that one of these days, she was going to answer that she was having contractions. “Fine and dandy. Oh, my God, I got the best stuff! I had to go blue—I mean, whatever, we’re having a boy. The crib and dressing table are perfect—right, iAm?” The Shadow answered, “Perfect.” No doubt the poor bastard had no interest in the shit at all, but that didn’t matter. He was another one who had stuck by Beth and been her protector in the human world—and Wrath knew the why, of course. It was iAm’s way of paying the household back for letting him and his it’s-complicated brother stay at the mansion after their pad at the Commodore had been compromised. Plus, it was pretty obvi that he liked Beth in a nonromantic kind of way. “Right? I know, right?” Beth hugged Wrath’s neck so hard he couldn’t swallow. “I’m so excited! I want to meet him now!” “Is this nesting?” Wrath asked in the direction of where he’d heard Z’s voice last. “Yeah. And wait for it. You still have Diaper Genies and bottles to get through.” “We’re going Born Free,” Beth informed him, like he knew what that meant. “In case my milk doesn’t come in.” Wrath just sat down in the chair and arranged her on his lap, content to ease back and let her enjoy making her report. And the brothers and the fighters? They rallied right around, asking questions like big brothers would. Any one of them would have laid down his life for her or that young in her womb. It was enough to make a male have to blink a little faster.

As with France, an important consequence of the British Industrial Revolution for China and Japan was military vulnerability. China was humbled by British sea power during the First Opium War, between 1839 and 1842, and the same threat became all too real for the Japanese as U.S. warships, led by Commodore Matthew Perry, pulled into Edo Bay in 1853. The reality that economic backwardness created military backwardness was part of the impetus behind Shimazu Nariakira’s plan to overthrow the shogunate and put in motion the changes that eventually led to the Meiji Restoration. The leaders of the Satsuma domain realized that economic growth—perhaps even Japanese survival—could be achieved only by institutional reforms, but the shogun opposed this because his power was tied to the existing set of institutions. To exact reforms, the shogun had to be overthrown, and he was. The situation was similar in China, but the different initial political institutions made it much harder to overthrow the emperor, something that happened only in 1911. Instead of reforming institutions, the Chinese tried to match the British militarily by importing modern weapons. The Japanese built their own armaments industry. As a consequence of these initial differences, each country responded differently to the challenges of the nineteenth century, and Japan and China diverged dramatically in the face of the critical juncture created by the Industrial Revolution. While Japanese institutions were being transformed and the economy was embarking on a path of rapid growth, in China forces pushing for institutional change were not strong enough, and extractive institutions persisted largely unabated until they would take a turn for the worse with Mao’s communist revolution in 1949. R

If Jobs and Wozniak had believed that IBM was the be-all and end-all, there would have been no personal computers.

Hamilton, still full of fight, quarreled on the street with Commodore James Nicholson, head of the Democratic Society and honorary captain of the Federal Ship Hamilton in 1788. Nicholson accused his former ally of being “an abetter of Tories” and used “other harsh expressions.” Hamilton promptly challenged Nicholson to a duel, and Nicholson accepted. Moments later Hamilton had a second confrontation with prominent opponents of the treaty, shouting that he would “fight the whole party one by one . . . the whole detestable faction.” The former secretary of the treasury had become a mere “street Bully,” sneered Beau Ned Livingston.

Commodore Murdoch was an older woman with lines across her face from scowling and various levels of displeasure throughout her life. It came as no surprise that she fixed Zia with a frown.

Commodore Stephen Decatur. And he said, ‘My country, may she always be right—but my country, right or wrong.

It was this. My father had left a small collection of books in a little room upstairs, to which I had access (for it adjoined my own) and which nobody else in our house ever troubled. From that blessed little room, Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, Humphrey Clinker, Tom Jones, the Vicar of Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Blas, and Robinson Crusoe, came out, a glorious host, to keep me company. They kept alive my fancy, and my hope of something beyond that place and time,—they, and the Arabian Nights, and the Tales of the Genii,—and did me no harm; for whatever harm was in some of them was not there for me; I knew nothing of it. It is astonishing to me now, how I found time, in the midst of my porings and blunderings over heavier themes, to read those books as I did. It is curious to me how I could ever have consoled myself under my small troubles (which were great troubles to me), by impersonating my favourite characters in them—as I did—and by putting Mr. and Miss Murdstone into all the bad ones—which I did too. I have been Tom Jones (a child's Tom Jones, a harmless creature) for a week together. I have sustained my own idea of Roderick Random for a month at a stretch, I verily believe. I had a greedy relish for a few volumes of Voyages and Travels—I forget what, now—that were on those shelves; and for days and days I can remember to have gone about my region of our house, armed with the centre-piece out of an old set of boot-trees—the perfect realization of Captain Somebody, of the Royal British Navy, in danger of being beset by savages, and resolved to sell his life at a great price. The Captain never lost dignity, from having his ears boxed with the Latin Grammar. I did; but the Captain was a Captain and a hero, in despite of all the grammars of all the languages in the world, dead or alive. This was my only and my constant comfort. When I think of it, the picture always rises in my mind, of a summer evening, the boys at play in the churchyard, and I sitting on my bed, reading as if for life. Every barn in the neighbourhood, every stone in the church, and every foot of the churchyard, had some association of its own, in my mind, connected with these books, and stood for some locality made famous in them. I have seen Tom Pipes go climbing up the church-steeple; I have watched Strap, with the knapsack on his back, stopping to rest himself upon the wicket-gate; and I know that Commodore Trunnion held that club with Mr. Pickle, in the parlour of our little village alehouse.

Trip Hawkins took out an ad in several computer magazines that would appear two months later. The two page spread announced, “Why Electronic Arts is Committed to the Amiga.

In early 1977, Seiler became disenchanted with Allied Leisure. When the company had more orders for game machines than they could immediately deliver, it took advantage of existing customers. “They did some real unscrupulous things,” he recalls. “People would send in their broken video games. I was fixing them and then they would put them in a new machine and sell it to somebody! They’d just keep telling the guy they hadn’t fixed his board yet.

Then, in the late ’60s and early ’70s, there was a big revolt against technology. People were attacking computer centers with axes, claiming computers were taking over our lives. We’re talking about serious hippy-type stuff.

It is true that Dan Bricklin prototyped the first spreadsheet on an Apple II because it was the available machine at that moment,” says Jennings.

dinner meeting between Commodore and Micro-Soft. “Before the meeting Chuck said, ‘You are going to meet someone tonight who looks like a 16-year-old nerd, but he is really quite bright and shouldn’t be underestimated.

One of the best disciplines you can have, instead of having cost centers, you make profit centers, and you try and make everybody think that way,” he says. “Most of the workforce responded very well to that as it felt like they had their own business. They knew if they earned more they could do more and expand.

The plan was, we would make this computer for Radio Shack and that would get us instant distribution to sell calculators,” says Peddle.

That gave me the best title I have ever had in my entire professional career,” he quips. “For a while there at Commodore, I was their Director of Intuition.

Thin lines called traces connected the polygons, creating a complex circuit. Incredibly, the engineers created the layout in pencil, one component at a time. The task was formidable, with a completed diagram containing approximately 4,300 transistors.

The nice thing about having loners who are really smart working for you is they bust their ass working 24 hours a day.

So Jack had somebody pretty clever figure out where he could drill holes right where those chips went.” The holes made it impossible for the dealers to upgrade their memory, forcing them to buy the 32-kilobyte models from Commodore.

In reality, Commodore employees worked tirelessly to deliver state-of-the-art technology to its customers at prices far lower than Apple’s. PBS adapted Cringley’s book as a popular TV series, Triumph of the Nerds (1996). The adaptation ignored Commodore completely.

But Apple soon bred competition. Radio Shack and Commodore and even Atari, among others, started selling their own personal computers.” In truth, Commodore and Radio Shack began selling personal computers in 1977, and Atari followed in 1979.

which owed $1.3 million to the Marine National Bank, premised on fictitious collateral. Of such knowledge, Grant was as innocent as a child. Still hobbling on crutches, he agreed to see William H. Vanderbilt and plead with him for $150,000. The son of Commodore Vanderbilt, and heir to a vast railroad empire, William was a heavyset man with flaring sideburns. Unlike Grant, he paid dutiful attention to business. At first Grant balked at borrowing from Vanderbilt, afraid he wouldn’t be repaid at once. But Ward insisted that Grant would simply be swapping guaranteed checks with Vanderbilt. Grabbing his crutches, Grant escorted Ward and Buck to Vanderbilt’s palatial Fifth Avenue residence. Receiving the group in his ornate home, Vanderbilt was startled by their request. He had never done such a thing before, he said, but he revered Grant and handed him a check for $150,000. In exchange, Grant gave him a Grant & Ward check with the proviso that he not cash it for a day or two. With Vanderbilt’s check in hand, Ward assured Grant everything was now fine. The former two-term president and hero of the Civil War had been reduced to an errand boy for a young charlatan. When a friend called on him that evening, Grant was in a cheerful mood and invited him to attend a poker game that Tuesday night. “Ward is certainly

We were kicking his ass, and Apple was kicking his ass because BASIC was what people were buying.

Commodore eventually included Adam Osborne’s 430-page manual with every PET.

The 1541 became just a 1540 with minor software changes.” The deletion of a few metal circuit traces ultimately resulted in millions of wasted hours for C64 owners.

I have directed Commodore Perry to assure your imperial majesty that I entertain the kindest feelings towards your majesty’s

Reigart claimed that alcohol was necessary to ease the pain of his various ailments. His health was failing him. He really was in pain, but, of course, alcohol aggravated rather than cured his diseases. He suffered from rheumatism, diabetes, and gout. If one of these diseases was not bothering him, another one was.

but the ending of the policy was thanks to Commodore Matthew Perry of the US Navy,

The Treaty of Kanagawa Commodore Perry returned to Japan in February 1854,

So, early in his career, David acquired status as a messenger. He also acquired a taste for power. Messengers already had a certain amount of altitude and therefore power, quite a bit actually; they even had authority over longtime Scientologists, many of whom had been in Scientology for decades and had reached its highest levels of auditor training, executive status, and auditing advancement. This was probably a big mistake on Hubbard’s part, since it meant that young people without a lot of Scientology experience were making important decisions based on their position as Commodore’s Messengers but not a lot of personal experience with Scientology, its technology or administrative policy. The value of status over experience was a lesson David absorbed early on, and it became encoded in his DNA. Looking back on it now, I am sure that this is when he began to change.

There was no doubt that whether it concerned the direction of the convoy, the escorting aircraft, or other groups which were supporting, the Commander of the close escort must exercise tactical command, whatever his rank. He usually had the best facilities, he was in the closest touch with the Commodore and he was with the convoy throughout the passage and so provided the continuity of experience which a support group lacked. This problem raised much controversy, but having carried out the roles of close escort commander, support group commander, and having flown often in escorting aircraft, I am convinced that it was the only answer.