#(named after Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry)

[grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks]

Martin’s alarm went off just after 7:00. It had been a long time since he’d needed to set an alarm, and he was nervous that it would wake Jon, but Jon, he’d learned, could sleep through anything. He flinched a bit at the noise, but didn’t open his eyes. Martin took the opportunity to admire his sleeping face, taking in the long, grey-streaked curls, the sleepy smile, the slight furrow in his brow that never truly went away, even in sleep. He was hardly recognizable as the man Martin had met four years ago. There were the scars, of course, and an extra foot or so of hair, but it was more than that. He looked happy. He looked, despite his scars, like a person who’d gotten used to happiness, and comfort, and peace. Martin was grateful, today more than ever, that he got to share that peace with him.

Still, Martin couldn’t stare at his boyfriend all day, so he slipped out of bed as quietly as he could. Jon stirred in his sleep, arms reaching out to the empty space he left, and for a moment Martin wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with him and hold him until he woke up. But there would be other mornings. Today he had a job to do.

Ollie looked up from where he lay curled up on the dresser, and mewed plaintively. Martin walked over to give him a quick scratch behind the ears.

“Shh,” he whispered, “Don’t wake your father.” He pressed one last kiss to Ollie’s fuzzy forehead before he left.

He crept into the safehouse’s tiny kitchen, taking care to avoid the floorboard in the hall that always creaked, and gathered his ingredients. Eggs, milk, flour, baking soda, sugar. Simple enough. The safehouse still didn’t have wifi or a cell phone signal, but Martin had looked up the recipe while he was in town and took a screenshot. 

Jon, he knew, would have been able to make a more elegant breakfast. He’d used his sudden abundance of free time to get into cooking - preparing most of the meals they shared, branching out into increasingly complex recipes, and sending Martin out with increasingly complex grocery lists. (Every time Martin went to the shops, Jon would ask, if it wasn’t too much trouble, if he could grab some spice or cheese or vegetable that Martin had never heard of, but he always asked so sweetly that Martin wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’ even if he wanted to. Martin, for his part, was always rewarded for his efforts with a spectacularly delicious meal.) Jon would know how to poach an egg, or make a hollandaise, or cook a crepe that didn’t have the approximate texture of rubber, but Martin was going to have to stick to the basics. Still, there was nothing wrong with pancakes. And it wasn’t going to be an entirely un-fancy dish - Martin had bought some fresh raspberries at the farmers market, and he set those on the stove with sugar and lemon to simmer down into a compote.

Martin heard the sound of a floorboard creaking in the hallway, and turned to see Jon wandering into the kitchen, rubbing groggily at his eye with the sleeve of his sweatshirt (which was, in actuality, Martin’s sweatshirt). He had forgotten to braid his hair last night, so it stood out from his head in unruly tangles, and he wasn’t wearing any trousers. Instead, he just had on the sweatshirt, his pants, and a pair of knobbly socks that Martin had made him when he’d first taken up knitting. (Martin had since made him some much nicer socks, now that he’d gotten the hang of things, but Jon wouldn’t even think of taking the first pair out of rotation.) Martin had seen Jon like this before of course, half-dressed and sleepy and beautiful as anything, but something about today made him take in the sight with fresh eyes, made him realize all over again just how lucky he was.

He didn’t say any of that, of course. Instead, he said, “You’re not supposed to be up! I was going to bring you breakfast in bed!”

Jon yawned and walked over to where Martin was cooking. He inspected the half-finished batter with bleary, sleep-crusted eyes, making Martin suddenly self-conscious.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he murmured, “Go back to bed.”

“Why would I stay in bed when you’re out here?”

He came up behind Martin and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head against Martin’s back. He stayed there so long - swaying slightly as Martin moved about, reaching for eggs and whisks and measuring cups - that Martin thought he might have fallen asleep where he stood.

“Comfortable back there?” he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

“Mm-hm,” Jon said, “Very.”

Martin didn’t think Jon was paying much attention to the cooking process, but as he whisked the batter, he heard a muffled voice from his back mumble, “Don’t overmix. It’s okay if it’s lumpy.”

“Backseat driver,” Martin muttered.

“Backseat chef,” Jon corrected him.

When Martin knelt to get the frying pan out of the cupboard, Jon was finally dislodged from his spot. He perched instead on the kitchen counter, watching Martin heat up the butter and start spooning batter into the pan.

“How’s my technique?” Martin asked as he flipped his first pancake.

Jon gave a shrug, which turned into a yawn. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?”

“Well, I don’t know. How much technique is really involved in flipping pancakes?”

“Not much, I guess. But I didn’t think there was much technique to chopping an onion, either, and after that ten minute lecture…”

“That’s different! There’s a correct way of doing that, that’s so much more efficient…” As Jon prepared to launch into another lengthy treatise on proper onion-chopping procedure, the sound of soft, padded footsteps came from the hallway and a sleepy, disgruntled cat trotted into the room.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Martin teased, “You woke up Ollie!”

Jon hopped off the counter and extended a contrite hand for the cat to sniff. “Sorry, Commodore.” Ollie pressed his forehead into Jon’s palm, and purred loudly enough to leave no question as to whether or not he was forgiven.

While the last of the pancakes cooked, Martin set some water on for tea, and grabbed a pair of plates from the cabinet. Soon enough, the raspberry sauce was done, the tea was steeped, and Martin had assembled two short stacks of pancakes. He put a generous dollop of compote on each plate before carrying them to the kitchen table.

He sighed. “It would have been better in bed.”

Jon pressed a kiss to Martin’s cheek before settling into the seat across from him. “Sorry, dear.”

It was hard to complain about anything when Jon was looking at him like that. He found himself grinning as he went to get their tea.

“Happy anniversary, love,” he said, setting their mugs down with a smile.

“Happy anniversary.”

Just saying the words made Martin feel giddy, and Jon seemed to feel much the same. When they’d first come to the safehouse, they’d hardly expected to live through the month, but here they were, one year later, still alive, still in love. They could ignore the rest, just for today, forget all things that still haunted them and instead feel the full weight of their love and everything they’d built with it.

Martin was shaken from his thoughts by a quiet mew, and he turned to see Ollie sitting next to the kitchen table, watching him eat with wide, pleading eyes.

“You wouldn’t like it,” he told him.

“He’ll never know until he tries,” Jon countered, cutting a small piece from his pancake and offering it to the cat. Ollie sniffed it, gave it a wary lick, then walked away, uninterested.

“You spoil him.”

“Oh, I spoil him?” Jon said, “How many of those ‘feather wands’ have you bought him in the past two months?”

“It’s important he gets some exercise!”

“I don’t know why you bother buying them, though. His favorite toys are my hair ties.” As if just remembering that he had one, Jon pulled the hair tie from his wrist and tossed it to Ollie, who batted it out of midair before taking it between his teeth and sprinting out of the room.

“Oh, um. Speaking of unnecessary purchases…” 

“Yes?” Jon arched an eyebrow.

“I got you something,” Martin admitted.

“I thought we said no gifts!”

“This doesn’t count as a gift, really. It’s just something I saw in the shops and thought...” He got up and found the tote bag he’d taken shopping the other day, and pulled out a small plastic tub of bath salts. “It’s supposed to help with joint pain,” he explained. Jon looked silently down at the gift for just long enough that Martin grew nervous, so he went on, “The scent is ‘ginger and citrus,’ I hope that’s okay!” Ever since his time held hostage by the Circus, Jon had been sensitive to any fragrance that reminded him of Nikola and her lotions. Martin thought he’d gotten a handle on which scents set him off - eucalyptus, mint, and jasmine, mostly - but he couldn’t be sure. “I probably looked like a lunatic sniffing everything in the aisle, but, y’know, better safe than sorry.”

Jon opened the tub and gave it an experimental sniff. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” Martin’s instinct, in general, was to assume that people were thanking him out of a sense of obligation, but there was a sincerity in Jon’s voice, which, combined with the expression of awed, besotted fondness on his face, told Martin that the gift was genuinely appreciated.

After a few more moments of staring at Martin like he was the single most beautiful sight on the planet, Jon seemed to remember himself, and stood up from the table to grab his bag from where it was resting against the back of the couch.

“I actually got you something as well.”

“Hypocrite!”

“It’s nothing really, it’s just- the library was selling off some of their old books, and-and it’s not so different, owning a book or borrowing it from the library, but I know you like to write in the margins sometimes, and anyway, this way you won’t have to worry about late fees…” He dug through his bag until he found a book, and slid it across the table to Martin. It was an old, slightly battered copy of The Oxford Book of English Verse. Martin ran a hand along the cover, admiring the softness of the worn, faux-leather binding.

“I actually, uh, I already made some notes of my own,” Jon went on, “Someone had written in it already so I- I thought it couldn’t hurt. I still don’t really- don’t really get poetry, but I found a few that… Well, that reminded me of you.”

Martin didn’t know what to say to that. He looked at Jon, the sweet, nervous expression on his face, then at the book, then back at Jon. Then he stood up, crossed the short distance between them, and pulled him out of his chair and into a kiss. Jon responded eagerly, throwing his arms around Martin’s neck and moaning softly as Martin ran his fingers through the tangled mess of his hair.

“So, do you like it, then?” he asked breathlessly when they broke apart.

“Yeah,” Martin smiled, “I like it.”

That night, they’d sit by the fire and flip through Martin’s new (used) book, and Martin would discover that Jon had terrible taste in poetry, and they’d argue, and laugh, and drink too much wine. The next day, Martin would wake up with a splitting headache, and Jon would bring him water and painkillers, and pull the curtains closed against the glare of the sun before climbing back into bed, to hold him and speak softly of all the things they’d do in the year to come. But for now, there was breakfast.

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[eerieonlakeerie]

The Ghost of Captain James Byrd

Photo provided by: Buffalo News

"Local legend, folklorists and supernatural guides have it that the old hotel on Hamburg’s shore – known for decades as Dock at the Bay and more recently as Dos Amigos – is haunted by the ghost of Captain James Byrd."

"The sad tale goes that Byrd was a member of Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry’s crew aboard the USS Lawrence, anchored off Hamburg’s shore during the War of 1812, and that Byrd regularly left the ship without leave for trysts with his girlfriend at the Willink Hotel, which is what the Dock at the Bay was called at that time.

When Perry learned of this desertion, according to the local legend, he ordered Byrd shot. And Byrd’s spirit now haunts the old hotel, the spirit guides say.

Like the telling of many old stories, there is some truth to this tale. But several of the facts became twisted with age and retelling. Nonetheless, the real story – though murky in some ways – is more tragic than the folklore.

Photo provided by: Buffalo News

In fact, the true story generated much sympathy – even anger – among many Americans two centuries ago, and led to a ballad so popular that it was recited for decades by residents of Western New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio.

“In the early nineteenth century, when the new nation was still forging its identity, Bird’s heroism and subsequent death served the competing interests of partisan politics and national mythmaking while also reminding the postrevolutionary generation of the dangers of arbitrary power,” according to Traci Langworthy, writing in The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography.

Newspapers and archives do record an execution on Lake Erie for desertion during the War of 1812. But the man’s name was James Bird. He was a soldier-marine. And he was a corporal.

Bird was arrested and then executed for desertion from Perry’s flagship, the Lawrence. That much is certain. But explanations for his desertion varied – from romantic to patriotic to pragmatic.

And by all accounts, he fought bravely a year earlier during the pivotal Battle of Lake Erie.

Bird was born Dec. 20, 1785, to John and Rebecca Montanye Bird.

He volunteered for the War of 1812 in the Wilkes-Barre area of Pennsylvania, where the family had moved, and was a member of a company of artillerymen that marched to Erie, Pa., according to the "History of Luzerne County." In Erie, Commodore Perry needed volunteers for his nine newly constructed ships that were to take on the British ships wreaking havoc on American settlements on Lake Erie. Bird volunteered as a marine.

During the Battle of Lake Erie in September of 1813 – famous for Perry’s after action report, “We have met the enemy, and they are ours” – Bird was aboard the flagship Lawrence. Though seriously wounded, he continued to fight valiantly.

“Towards the close of the engagement, a canister shot struck him on the shoulder as he was stooping to his gun,” The Wilkes-Barre Gleaner reported Nov. 16, 1813, in an account of Bird’s heroics during the battle. “He was instantly covered with blood, and his officer ordered him below. He ventured to disobey, preferring to do duty while he had life to abandoning his post. But the blood flowed so fast that another order was issued to go below. He ran down, got a hasty bandage on the wound, came again on deck and although his left arm was useless – yet he handed cartridges and performed the utmost service in his power with his right, until the stars and stripes waved gloriously over the foe.”

A year later, Bird had recovered from his wounds and was again a crew member of the Lawrence. It wasn’t long before he got into his fatal trouble.

He left the ship without leave.

One version of his desertion suggests a pragmatic explanation. He believed his enlistment was up.

“During the War of 1812, soldiers and sailors had little knowledge of military law and were tenacious of their rights as citizens,” Chautauqua County Historian Obed Edson explained in a paper delivered Sept. 19, 1913, to the Chautauqua Society of Historical and Natural Science.

Bird and some others thought they had enlisted just for the Battle on Lake Erie, according to Edson, so he and a few shipmates headed for home.

But the Americans were preparing for another battle with the British, an invasion of Canada, and one officer wanted to make an example of deserters. In this account, Bird and two others were arrested in Westfield and returned to the ship in Erie for court martial.

Then there is the patriotic explanation for the desertion.

That comes from the “History of Luzerne County.” Bird had learned of the intended attack on New Orleans and marched off with others to join Gen. Andrew Jackson’s forces, according to this version. He was apprehended in Pittsburgh and brought back for court martial.

“Poor fellow! Shot for an excess of bravery,” the author wrote.

The romantic explanation of Bird’s desertion comes from the folk ballad. The ballad has it that he left the ship to visit his sweetheart, Mary Blain, who was seriously ill, in Forsyth, Pa.

Where all these explanations agree is that Bird was tried and executed quickly after capture.

A court martial was hastily arranged, and Bird and two other deserters were condemned to death. An appeal to stay Bird’s execution until Perry – who was not in Erie at the time – could review the court martial was denied. One naval officer refused to sign his death warrant, but another officer did.

One of the deserters, a man named Davis, was hanged from the mast of the USS Niagara, while Bird and the third deserter, a man named Rankin, were forced to kneel over their coffins and shot on the ship’s deck.

“All three men were buried on the sandy flat at the entrance to the Erie Harbor,” Capt. Daniel Dobbins, who was present, later wrote,

On the day before he died, Bird wrote a farewell letter to his family that was printed in the Wilkes-Barre Gleaner soon after his execution. It reads in part:

“I am the most miserable and desolate child of the family – Dear Parents, let my brothers and sisters read this letter, for it is the last they can ever receive from my hand, for by the law of our country I am doomed and sentenced to death for deserting from the marines at Lake Erie ... . I have but a few moments to make peace with my maker. I leave you only for a short time here in this most troublesome world; but I hope that by the constant prayer we shall meet in the world above.”

Bird gave no explanation for his desertion, and he became a martyr to many. The pathetic story of James Bird was familiar to all living along the frontier, and was commemorated in the ... ballad written in sympathy with popular feeling,” according to the Centennial History of Chautauqua County. “For many years it was the most popular of ballads. It was so often sung and repeated as to be transmitted to the present time in many instances by the memory alone.”

The popularity of the ballad and the tyranny of his death resonated with many on the frontier for decades.

“One element of the ballad’s reception remained constant over time: the willingness of Bird’s admirers to overlook the youth’s potential flaws, lest they jeopardize his merits as a folk hero,” Langworthy wrote in The Pennsylvania Magazine of History. “Over time, the ballad nearly became secondary to the anecdotes surrounding it, and the “truth” of the young marine’s life became as malleable as its meaning.

While some may claim that James Bird’s ghost haunts a hotel in Hamburg, residents in northeastern Pennsylvania claim his remains.

He was reburied in Forty Fort Cemetery, Wilkes-Barre, in 1935 with a monument dedicated by the Luzerne County Chapter of Daughters of 1812.”

[clove-pinks]

Can’t have shit named HMS Detroit

Back in my native Rhode Island last summer, I snapped this picture of a tall ship off Newport on a boat ride with family. I moved away in 2013 and she was a new craft to me, although she was built in 2015: SSV Oliver Hazard Perry, a sail training vessel (not a replica of a historic ship) named after the famous Rhode Island commodore. (The first Commodore Perry, not his younger brother Matthew, the Open Japan guy.)

I innocently shared this picture with a group of history buffs when Oliver Hazard Perry was brought up: and there was much Canadian wailing and gnashing of teeth, because this tall ship was originally planned as a replica of HMS Detroit (1813), to be based at Amherstburg, Ontario, but the Canadian group behind the project didn't have the funds to complete her. After languishing for a number of years, the incomplete steel hull was purchased by a group of Rhode Islanders and towed to OHP's hometown of Newport, where she is a new attraction on Narragansett Bay. 

In a hilarious twist, the hull intended to become a HMS Detroit replica was made into a ship named after the man who lead the American squadron that captured her namesake and defeated the British fleet at the Battle of Lake Erie. (Imagine if a group of French tall ship enthusiasts were trying to build a craft named Bonaparte, and it ended up in the UK named HMS Wellington.)

Which brings me to the fact that every(??) ship named Detroit is seemingly cursed, at least in their early 19th century incarnations. The original (1812) HMS Detroit started her life as USS Adams, was captured by the British and renamed Detroit, but when the Americans recaptured her she was badly damaged and set on fire after grounding. Keeping up the nationality-switching shenanigans, the 1813 HMS Detroit was also captured by Americans under Perry (as USS Detroit) but was once again in terrible shape. She was deliberately sunk, raised in 1836 to sail the lakes again, and eventually a group of merchants purchased her to send her over Niagara Falls as a stunt in 1841. Perhaps balking at this ignominious end, the vessel grounded in the rapids above the falls and broke up.

[ultraheydudemestuff]

Perry County Courthouse

Main and Brown Sts.

New Lexington, Ohio

The Perry County Courthouse is a historic government building in the city of New Lexington, Ohio. Built near the end of the nineteenth century after the end of a county seat war, it is the fifth courthouse to serve Perry County, and it has been named a historic site because of its imposing architecture. After Perry County was established in 1817, the county commissioners and courts met for their first two years at John Fink's tavern on the eastern side of Somerset at the corner of Main Street (the Zane Trace) and High Street. At the end of the two years, county officials began using their newly completed jail as a courthouse; it was a jail more than anything else, and the commissioners and other people did not like to call it a courthouse, but a courtroom was provided in the second story, as well as room for other county officers. It functioned as a courthouse from 1819 until 1829.

In 1826, bids were let for the construction of a purpose-built courthouse on Somerset's public square; it was occupied three years later, and the old "courthouse" jail soon succumbed to fire. Ever since the creation of the county, the village of New Lexington had been agitating to become the county seat, and a county seat war ensued in the 1850s; after three new state laws, three elections, and two decisions by the Supreme Court, the county offices departed Somerset for the upstart community in early 1857, leaving the old courthouse to be used by Somerset as its village hall.

The first courthouse at New Lexington was not paid for by the taxpayers in general, because advocates of New Lexington as county seat had raised the necessary amount through private donations. Among the stipulations of the state law permitting the removal of the county seat was that suitable buildings should be provided if the seat were to be moved; such a building was finished, but it stood vacant for several years before the offices were placed in it. As the end of the nineteenth century approached, the county's needs expanded to the point that the old courthouse was insufficient, and a fifth courthouse, the present structure, was erected in 1887 and dedicated one year later.

Designed by Joseph W. Yost and built in 1888 by the firm Hibbert and Schaus of Newark, Ohio, at a cost of $143,000, the present Perry County Courthouse is a large Richardsonian Romanesque style architecture building constructed of sandstone, pressed brick, and top quality Millersburg Brownstone; the ashlar walls are laid in a random fashion, while the ashlar of the foundation is laid in a more regular manner. Visitors can enter the building through a grand recessed entrance under an archway at the top of a grand staircase; upon reaching the interior, they find themselves in a hallway with a tiled floor and plaster reliefs on the walls between the entrances for various county offices. The most prominent component of the exterior is the two-part clock tower in the center, which rises 40 feet above the street, but the entire building derives an appearance of great size from its three-story construction and from the large monolithic wall above the main entrance. Its Romanesque influence is apparent from details such as the miniature turrets above the main entrance and on the corners of the tower. From its earliest years, the courthouse has been considered one of Ohio's grandest, due in part to its location in a small community in a rural county.

Located behind the courthouse is the old county jail, a three-story brick building. Also constructed in 1887, it succeeded the old courthouse as the jail, since the 1857 courthouse had included dedicated jail space on its first floor. The courthouse was sandblasted in September 1973 to restore the pink and cream color of the sandstone. In 1981, the Perry County Courthouse and its jail were listed together on the National Register of Historic Places, qualifying for designation both because of their architecture and because of their place in Ohio's history. Located at 105 North Main St. in the county seat of New Lexington, the building is still in use and today houses the Perry County Court of Common Pleas and its probate and juvenile courts. Perry County is named in honor of Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry known as the “Hero of Lake Erie” for his naval victory at the battle of Lake Erie in the war of 1812.

In the 1990s, the courthouse attracted statewide attention when a prominent lawsuit, DeRolph v. State, was filed in the Perry County Common Pleas Court. Claiming that Ohio's existing system of school funding violated the state constitution, a coalition of school districts in southern Ohio sued the state in 1991 in order to force through a fundamental change in school funding. Upon the county judge's ruling in favor of the coalition three years later, the lawsuit was appealed through the courts and received numerous trials in all levels of the Ohio judiciary throughout the rest of the decade, including multiple decisions by the Supreme Court.

[courtneytincher]

U.S. State Department approves possible guided-missile frigate sale to Bahrain

The U.S. State Department has approved a possible $150 million sale of the guided-missile frigate to Bahrain, the Defense Security Cooperation Agency said on Wednesday.

The Defense Security Cooperation Agency delivered the required certification notifying Congress of this possible sale on October 22, 2019.

The Pentagon’s Defense Security Cooperation Agency said in a statement that Bahrain looks to receive the guided-missile frigate, ex Robert G. Bradley (FFG 49), spares, support, training, publications, and other related elements of logistics and program support.

“The proposed sale will refurbish and support the grant transfer of the Oliver Hazard Perry Class ship, ex Robert G. Bradley (FFG 49), which was authorized for transfer under Public Law 115-232, Section 1020,” said DSCA. “Bahrain already operates another Oliver Hazard Perry Class ship. Bahrain will have no difficulty absorbing these defense articles and services into its armed forces.”

The Oliver Hazard Perry class is a class of guided missile frigates named after the U.S. Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, the hero of the naval Battle of Lake Erie. Also known as the Perry or FFG-7 (commonly “fig seven”) class, the warships were designed in the United States in the mid-1970s as general-purpose escort vessels.

Intended to protect amphibious landing forces, supply and replenishment groups, and merchant convoys from aircraft and submarines, they were also later part of battleship-centred surface action groups and aircraft carrier battle groups/strike groups.

Fifty-five ships were built in the United States: 51 for the United States Navy and four for the Royal Australian Navy (RAN). In addition, eight were built in Taiwan, six in Spain, and two in Australia for their navies. Former U.S. Navy warships of this class have been sold or donated to the navies of Bahrain, Egypt, Poland, Pakistan, Taiwan, and Turkey.

from Defence Blog

The U.S. State Department has approved a possible $150 million sale of the guided-missile frigate to Bahrain, the Defense Security Cooperation Agency said on Wednesday.

The Defense Security Cooperation Agency delivered the required certification notifying Congress of this possible sale on October 22, 2019.

The Pentagon’s Defense Security Cooperation Agency said in a statement that Bahrain looks to receive the guided-missile frigate, ex Robert G. Bradley (FFG 49), spares, support, training, publications, and other related elements of logistics and program support.

“The proposed sale will refurbish and support the grant transfer of the Oliver Hazard Perry Class ship, ex Robert G. Bradley (FFG 49), which was authorized for transfer under Public Law 115-232, Section 1020,” said DSCA. “Bahrain already operates another Oliver Hazard Perry Class ship. Bahrain will have no difficulty absorbing these defense articles and services into its armed forces.”

The Oliver Hazard Perry class is a class of guided missile frigates named after the U.S. Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, the hero of the naval Battle of Lake Erie. Also known as the Perry or FFG-7 (commonly “fig seven”) class, the warships were designed in the United States in the mid-1970s as general-purpose escort vessels.

Intended to protect amphibious landing forces, supply and replenishment groups, and merchant convoys from aircraft and submarines, they were also later part of battleship-centred surface action groups and aircraft carrier battle groups/strike groups.

Fifty-five ships were built in the United States: 51 for the United States Navy and four for the Royal Australian Navy (RAN). In addition, eight were built in Taiwan, six in Spain, and two in Australia for their navies. Former U.S. Navy warships of this class have been sold or donated to the navies of Bahrain, Egypt, Poland, Pakistan, Taiwan, and Turkey.

via IFTTT

[courtneytincher]

U.S. State Department approves possible guided-missile frigate sale to Bahrain

The U.S. State Department has approved a possible $150 million sale of the guided-missile frigate to Bahrain, the Defense Security Cooperation Agency said on Wednesday.

The Defense Security Cooperation Agency delivered the required certification notifying Congress of this possible sale on October 22, 2019.

The Pentagon’s Defense Security Cooperation Agency said in a statement that Bahrain looks to receive the guided-missile frigate, ex Robert G. Bradley (FFG 49), spares, support, training, publications, and other related elements of logistics and program support.

“The proposed sale will refurbish and support the grant transfer of the Oliver Hazard Perry Class ship, ex Robert G. Bradley (FFG 49), which was authorized for transfer under Public Law 115-232, Section 1020,” said DSCA. “Bahrain already operates another Oliver Hazard Perry Class ship. Bahrain will have no difficulty absorbing these defense articles and services into its armed forces.”

The Oliver Hazard Perry class is a class of guided missile frigates named after the U.S. Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, the hero of the naval Battle of Lake Erie. Also known as the Perry or FFG-7 (commonly “fig seven”) class, the warships were designed in the United States in the mid-1970s as general-purpose escort vessels.

Intended to protect amphibious landing forces, supply and replenishment groups, and merchant convoys from aircraft and submarines, they were also later part of battleship-centred surface action groups and aircraft carrier battle groups/strike groups.

Fifty-five ships were built in the United States: 51 for the United States Navy and four for the Royal Australian Navy (RAN). In addition, eight were built in Taiwan, six in Spain, and two in Australia for their navies. Former U.S. Navy warships of this class have been sold or donated to the navies of Bahrain, Egypt, Poland, Pakistan, Taiwan, and Turkey.

from Defence Blog

The U.S. State Department has approved a possible $150 million sale of the guided-missile frigate to Bahrain, the Defense Security Cooperation Agency said on Wednesday.

The Defense Security Cooperation Agency delivered the required certification notifying Congress of this possible sale on October 22, 2019.

The Pentagon’s Defense Security Cooperation Agency said in a statement that Bahrain looks to receive the guided-missile frigate, ex Robert G. Bradley (FFG 49), spares, support, training, publications, and other related elements of logistics and program support.

“The proposed sale will refurbish and support the grant transfer of the Oliver Hazard Perry Class ship, ex Robert G. Bradley (FFG 49), which was authorized for transfer under Public Law 115-232, Section 1020,” said DSCA. “Bahrain already operates another Oliver Hazard Perry Class ship. Bahrain will have no difficulty absorbing these defense articles and services into its armed forces.”

The Oliver Hazard Perry class is a class of guided missile frigates named after the U.S. Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, the hero of the naval Battle of Lake Erie. Also known as the Perry or FFG-7 (commonly “fig seven”) class, the warships were designed in the United States in the mid-1970s as general-purpose escort vessels.

Intended to protect amphibious landing forces, supply and replenishment groups, and merchant convoys from aircraft and submarines, they were also later part of battleship-centred surface action groups and aircraft carrier battle groups/strike groups.

Fifty-five ships were built in the United States: 51 for the United States Navy and four for the Royal Australian Navy (RAN). In addition, eight were built in Taiwan, six in Spain, and two in Australia for their navies. Former U.S. Navy warships of this class have been sold or donated to the navies of Bahrain, Egypt, Poland, Pakistan, Taiwan, and Turkey.

via IFTTT