Is it just me, or in the original Star Wars movie, is this guy in the sentry cup totally useless or what? We know both the Imperial and Rebel fleets have advanced scanning technology that makes our modern radar look like an Etch-a-Sketch. This dude is sitting in a tight little bucket about as snug as a sleeping bag, on what by conservative estimates is probably about a hundred-foot thin pole. Has he been forced to shimmy all the way up to watch for forest fires?
Surely he’s not there to guard against enemy ships? He’s armed with a rather unwieldy-looking spear. What is he supposed to do? JOUST incoming TIE fighters? He obviously can’t throw the thing. Without being able to properly plant his feet he’s not going to throw it more than ten feet or so, and not with any force significant enough to do damage to more than, say, a banana.
How the hell is this guy supposed to get down, anyway? It probably wasn’t that easy climbing up. Once he swings his legs over the side, that pole is tucked far away under the body of the looking-post cup. There aren’t any visible hand holds going down the side. He’s going to fall to his damned death! And look at the helmet – does that look like it was designed to protect his head in a fall? It’s not shaped to take a blunt impact. It’s sloped in the back for decorative purposes. If this guy lands on his back that helmet is going to snap his neck!
We can’t see his left hand, so we can presume he’s at least holding a radio. But how is that conversation going to go when he calls in a threat?
Guard: “Rebel base, this is Sentry Cup Seven. Over.”
Rebel Base: “Roger Sentry Cup Seven. Please use our code name of ‘Hen House.’ Don’t say ‘Rebel Base.’ We don’t want to give away our secret location. Over.”
Guard: “Not for nothing Rebel Base, but I’m standing a hundred feet above the ground is a metal champagne flute that isn’t even so much as painted green to blend in with my surroundings. Any enemy ship who sees me will know where the secret base is. Over.”
Rebel Base: “That’s above my pay grade, Sentry Cup. I just work here. Please don’t say ‘Rebel Base.’ Over.”
Guard: “Fine… Hen House. Look, I think I see an incoming enemy ship. It’s hard to see, but I think I see something coming in from space. Over.”
Rebel Base: “Negative Sentry Cup. That’s a Correllian YT-1300 light freighter. It’s got permission to land. Over.”
Guard: “You can freaking SEE what kind of ship it is from here? Over?”
Rebel Base: “Of course Sentry Cup. We were in radio contact when they were about ten thousand miles out. It’s a ship called the Millennium Falcon. It’s carrying Princess Leia Organa. Over.”
Guard: “Well jumping shit, Hen House! If you can tell who’s on the ship from ten thousand miles away why the frick am I standing here in a giant test tube target without so much as a rain jacket to protect me from enemy ships?! Over!”
Rebel Base: “We can’t see who’s on the ship, Cup. They told us after they hailed us. We can only see the make and model of the ship from here. Over.”
Guard: “Look, I signed on to become a pilot, Hen House! I left a good-paying job teaching protocol to Bothans at an expensive school, and if you’re just going to waste my time climbing up and down a useless sentry stick I’m just gonna…”
Rebel Base: “What can I tell you, Sentry Cup? I’m just a dispatcher. I spent twelve years learning how to play the red ball jett organ, but I’m pretty sure Max Rebo already has a red ball jett organ player in his band, and the grocery store doesn’t accept music for payment. Take it up with your supervisor when your shift ends. Over.”
Guard: “This job sucks! Over.”
Rebel Base: “You don’t have to like it, Cup. You just have to do it. Over.”
The sheer fact that the Rebels spent their precious, limited resources on this useless sentry post proves that they had no business defeating the Empire.
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