- Joined
- Mar 10, 2002
- Messages
- 19,806
the great battle of "Defiance Hill" was named after this knife 
-
The BladeForums.com 2024 Traditional Knife is ready to order! See this thread for details: https://www.bladeforums.com/threads/bladeforums-2024-traditional-knife.2003187/
Price is$300$250 ea (shipped within CONUS). If you live outside the US, I will contact you after your order for extra shipping charges.
Order here: https://www.bladeforums.com/help/2024-traditional/ - Order as many as you like, we have plenty.
Desert Storm Fighter
- Thread starter idahoskunk
- Start date
- Joined
- Mar 5, 2003
- Messages
- 3,196
Jerry Busse said:Actually, due to the overwhelming popularity of our "Desert Storm" Fighter throughout the late '80's the name was pirated from us by the U.S. Military and the ensuing war was in turn called "Operation Desert Storm" . . . . . this was not the first time this had happened. . . .Our 1979 model called the "Urgent Fury" was likewise, the namesake given to the invasion of Grenada in 1983. . .
My great grandfather had manufactured two knives right after the Civil War in the late 1800's called the "World War I" and the "World War II". . . . Needless to say, these two names were stolen from us as well. . . .
Don't be surprised when we wade into Iran and kick their asses in "Operation Badger Attack" . . . They did consider "Operation Groove Master" but were afraid that it didn't have the proper "zing".
Jerry
What...? No "Just Cause" knife released in '87?
<ducking for cover>
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2002
- Messages
- 19,806
and there was the famous blade that Genghis Khan used at the battle of "Kalakalzhit"
the busse Kalakalzhit is shown here with a Battle Mistress for comparison.
The Mongols.
From out of the wastes of central Asia they had swept, a savage force for which the world was utterly unprepared. They swept like a wildly wielded scythe, hacking, slashing, obliterating all that lay in their path, and calling it conquest.
And throughout the lands that feared them now or would come to fear them, no name inspired more terror than that of their leader, Genghis Khan. The greatest of the Asian warlords, he stood alone, revered as a God among warriors, marked out by the cold light of his grey green eyes, the savage furrow of his brow, and the fact that he could beat the **** out of any of them.
Later that night the moon rose, and by its light a small party of horsemen carrying torches rode quietly out from the Mongol encampment that sprawled over nearby hill. A casual observer would not have noticed anything remarkable about the man who rode at their centre, muffled in a heavy cloak, tense, hunched forward on his horse as if weighed down by a heavy burden, because a casual observer would have been dead.
The band rode a few miles through the moonlit woods, picking their way along the paths until they came at last to a small clearing, and here they reined their horses in and waited on their leader.
He moved his horse slowly forward and surveyed the small group of peasant huts that stood huddled together in the centre of the clearing trying very hard at short notice to look deserted.
Hardly any smoke at all was rising from the primitive chimney stacks. Virtually no light appeared at the windows, and not a sound could be heard from any of them save that of a small child saying "Shhhhh....."
For a moment a strange green fire seemed to flash from the eyes of the Mongol leader. A heavy deadly kind of a thing that you could hardly call a smile drew itself through his fine wispy beard. The strange kind of smiley thing would signify (briefly) to anyone who was stupid enough to look that there was nothing a Mongol warlord liked better after a day hacking people to bits than a big night out.
The door flew open. A Mongol warrior surged into the hut like a savage wind. Two children ran screaming to their mother who was cowering wide eyed in the corner of the tiny room. A dog yelped.
The warrior hurled his torch on to the still glowing fire, and then threw the dog on to it. That would teach it to be a dog. The last surviving man of the family, a grey and aged grandfather stepped bravely forward, eyes flashing. With a flash of his sword the Mongol whipped off the old man's head which trundled across the floor and fetched up leaning rakishly against a table leg. The old man's body stood tensely for a moment, not knowing what to think. As it began slowly, majestically to topple forward, Khan strode in and pushed it brusquely aside. He surveyed the happy domestic scene and bestowed a grim kind of smile on it. Then he walked over to a large chair and sat in it, testing it first for comfort. When he was satisfied with it he heaved heavy sigh and sat back in front of the fire on which the dog was now blazing merrily.
The warrior grabbed at the terrified woman, pushed her children roughly aside and brought her, trembling in front of the mighty Khan.
She was young and pretty, with long bedraggled black hair. Her bosom heaved and her face was stark with fright.
Khan regarded her with a slow contemptuous look.
"Does she know," he said at length in a low, dead voice, "who I am?"
"You... you are the mighty Khan!" cried the woman.
Khan's eyes fixed themselves on hers.
"Does she know," he hissed, "what I want of her?"
"I... I'll do anything for you, O Khan," stammered the woman, "but spare my children!"
Khan said quietly, "Then begin." His eyes dropped and he gazed distantly into the bush.
Then reaching for his famous Busse Kalakalzhit he performed the famous ritual now commonly used when new baby boys are born.
the busse Kalakalzhit is shown here with a Battle Mistress for comparison.
The Mongols.
From out of the wastes of central Asia they had swept, a savage force for which the world was utterly unprepared. They swept like a wildly wielded scythe, hacking, slashing, obliterating all that lay in their path, and calling it conquest.
And throughout the lands that feared them now or would come to fear them, no name inspired more terror than that of their leader, Genghis Khan. The greatest of the Asian warlords, he stood alone, revered as a God among warriors, marked out by the cold light of his grey green eyes, the savage furrow of his brow, and the fact that he could beat the **** out of any of them.
Later that night the moon rose, and by its light a small party of horsemen carrying torches rode quietly out from the Mongol encampment that sprawled over nearby hill. A casual observer would not have noticed anything remarkable about the man who rode at their centre, muffled in a heavy cloak, tense, hunched forward on his horse as if weighed down by a heavy burden, because a casual observer would have been dead.
The band rode a few miles through the moonlit woods, picking their way along the paths until they came at last to a small clearing, and here they reined their horses in and waited on their leader.
He moved his horse slowly forward and surveyed the small group of peasant huts that stood huddled together in the centre of the clearing trying very hard at short notice to look deserted.
Hardly any smoke at all was rising from the primitive chimney stacks. Virtually no light appeared at the windows, and not a sound could be heard from any of them save that of a small child saying "Shhhhh....."
For a moment a strange green fire seemed to flash from the eyes of the Mongol leader. A heavy deadly kind of a thing that you could hardly call a smile drew itself through his fine wispy beard. The strange kind of smiley thing would signify (briefly) to anyone who was stupid enough to look that there was nothing a Mongol warlord liked better after a day hacking people to bits than a big night out.
The door flew open. A Mongol warrior surged into the hut like a savage wind. Two children ran screaming to their mother who was cowering wide eyed in the corner of the tiny room. A dog yelped.
The warrior hurled his torch on to the still glowing fire, and then threw the dog on to it. That would teach it to be a dog. The last surviving man of the family, a grey and aged grandfather stepped bravely forward, eyes flashing. With a flash of his sword the Mongol whipped off the old man's head which trundled across the floor and fetched up leaning rakishly against a table leg. The old man's body stood tensely for a moment, not knowing what to think. As it began slowly, majestically to topple forward, Khan strode in and pushed it brusquely aside. He surveyed the happy domestic scene and bestowed a grim kind of smile on it. Then he walked over to a large chair and sat in it, testing it first for comfort. When he was satisfied with it he heaved heavy sigh and sat back in front of the fire on which the dog was now blazing merrily.
The warrior grabbed at the terrified woman, pushed her children roughly aside and brought her, trembling in front of the mighty Khan.
She was young and pretty, with long bedraggled black hair. Her bosom heaved and her face was stark with fright.
Khan regarded her with a slow contemptuous look.
"Does she know," he said at length in a low, dead voice, "who I am?"
"You... you are the mighty Khan!" cried the woman.
Khan's eyes fixed themselves on hers.
"Does she know," he hissed, "what I want of her?"
"I... I'll do anything for you, O Khan," stammered the woman, "but spare my children!"
Khan said quietly, "Then begin." His eyes dropped and he gazed distantly into the bush.
Then reaching for his famous Busse Kalakalzhit he performed the famous ritual now commonly used when new baby boys are born.
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2002
- Messages
- 19,806
SpearHead said:What...? No "Just Cause" knife released in '87?
i happen to have the "just cause" knife release in 1886, one year BEFORE the "just cause" operation rightfully named after this knife carried by none other than sitting bull who was standing after the battle.
shown below, the busse "just cause"
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2002
- Messages
- 19,806
custer was carrying a dark ops if my memory serves me correctly 
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2002
- Messages
- 19,806
i tried to get specs but it's to hard to measure 
it has more curves than shaggi
it has more curves than shaggi
