FReeper Canteen ~ Part VII of The Mongols ~ December 21, 2004

www.coldsiberia.org ^ | December 21, 2004 | LaDivaLoca

[LaDivaLoca]

For the freedom you enjoyed yesterday...
Thank the Veterans who served in
The United States Armed Forces.

Looking forward to tomorrow's freedom?
Support The United States Armed Forces Today!

ANCIENT WARFARE





Part VII of The Mongols

cont'd Mongolian Bow: The Shooting

The Old Mongols have their own technique for shooting, known as the "Mongolian release." The Mongols, if right-handed, keep their bow in the left hand, pushes it forward as the right arm pulls the string all the way back to behind the ear. The left arm is now fully extended, and the release is near. However, now comes an interesting part. Since this bow has immense power, the Mongols have to use a special technique to hold the string during the drawing of the bow and before the arrow is released. The technique is as follows: The string is held by the thumb, since this is the strongest finger. Still, it is not easy to hold 166 pounds comfortably. Thus, the thumb is supported with the index finger curling around, placed atop the outermost joint, exactly at the base of the nail. The other fingers are also curled, forming a fist. Even so, this is not enough. Hence, the Mongols use a special ring on which the string is hooked before release. This thumb ring, a cylinder that fits around the outer part of the thumb and protects its pad from damage as the string is released, is typically made from Chinese jade or agate, but leather, metal and bone is also known to have been used.

Mongolian soldiers used to shoot while sitting on horseback, and with deadly accuracy. This was done by skilfully timing the shots to the moment when the hooves of the horse were in mid-air, so as to avoid disturbing the aim when they hit the ground.

The Arrows

Birch is a typical material for arrows too. The normal length of an arrow is between 80 and 100 cm, and the shaft's diameter is around 10 mm.

As for fletchings, tail feathers of crane are favored, but tail feathers of all birds are usable. Eagle feathers make a particularly exclusive arrow, but since eagles are rare most arrows obviously cannot have fletchings from eagle's tail feathers. Feathers taken from the wings are said to flow less smoothly through the air, so if given the choice tail feathers are picked. The Mongols characteristically pay close attention to minutest of details. The placement of the fletchings in relation to their size, and what part of the bird they were taken from, is of great importance for correct rotation and good balance in the air. Consequently these factors are painstakingly considered when making arrows after the Old Mongol standard.

The arrowheads, or points, could be everything from wide metal blades used for big game (or in war) to bone and wooden points, which are used for hunting birds and small animals. The high impact of this bow ensures that a bony point will be lethal when hitting the body of a smaller animal or a bird. In addition to these kinds of arrows, whistling arrows are useful during hunting, because the effect on animals of an arrow whistling away high above the ground is often to make it stop, curious to see what is in the air. This gives the hunter time to launch a second arrow, this time with a game head to kill the animal. How are these whistling arrows made? They are made by inserting an arrowhead of bone in which air channels have been created. When shot, such arrowheads make a very audible sound through the air.

Source: http://www.coldsiberia.org/monbow.htm

Next Tuesday Part VIII of The Mongols

[Diva Betsy Ross]

TODD RUNDREN-I SAW THE LIGHT

[laurenmarlowe]

Hey sweetie! Ping away any time! LOL!

My day is wonderful, thank you, and I see you got heat!

[Lady Jag]

Must be a demonic barber thing!

Or maybe it's the typical genius hairstyle.

[laurenmarlowe]

Good afternoon Ms. Feather!

[Lady Jag]

You will never catch me smokin' that devils weed with Willie!

Me, too. Unless he turns Republican and it's on the White House roof.

[laurenmarlowe]

Good afternoon Lady Jag!

[Diva Betsy Ross]

Here is my most favorite Ballad. If you have not heard this before- then I hope you will love it too! It simply leaves me speechless every single time I hear it. This little tune was preformed for our President by Rowan Tynan live -right after 9/11-and he rocked my world that day!

ELLIS ISLAND-IRISH TENNORS HERE

President Bush holds up the police shield of New York Police Officer George Howard who died while trying to save others in the World Trade Center, during his address to a Joint Session of Congress on Capitol Hill in Washington Thursday, Sept. 20, 2001.

THANK YOU TROOPS! AND GOD BLESS YOU!

[uncleshag]

My Stars!

It's like looking in a mirror and there's
not a carnival around for a 10,000 miles!

Doc was his name, right?

[Diva Betsy Ross]

REAL ELLIS ISLAND LINK HERE!!!

[laurenmarlowe]

Great post Diva, thanks!

[GummyIII]

HANKIE ALERT:

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma.

I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me!

"No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through it's doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded , full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the folks who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't havet a cough; he had no good coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat.

I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas. That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going ."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

[Lady Jag]

Good afternoon, Lauren! Merry Christmas!

[uncleshag]

Tunes for Troops Tunes for the Canteen Crew
Please Stay
Warren Zevon's Final Song

[Lady Jag]

Doc Brown was his name in Back to the Future.

[AZamericonnie]

Beautiful story Gummy!

[68-69TonkinGulfYachtClub]

The 3 Stooges Rock

[laurenmarlowe]

Merry Christmas to you Lady J! WOW, you're hot!!

[Lady Jag]

[XJarhead]

I have to agree. No way you could get a majority of a male population able to make that kind of pull. English longbowmen who likewise trained from a young age used a bow with only an 80-100 lb pull, and that was considered unusual. But 166 pounds? On horseback? Wow. I suspect that some of those bows may have been capable of pulls that heavy, but I'm betting they generally weren't drawn to that point.

[Diva Betsy Ross]

no, you rock... ;}