Mies was a 242 GRT tug that was built as Empire Connie in 1945 by A Hall & Co Ltd, Aberdeen for the Ministry of War Transport (MoWT). In 1946, she was sold to the Royal Netherlands Navy and renamed Mies. In 1947, she was sold to the Government of the Dutch East Indies, passing to the Indonesian Government in 1951 and then the Indonesian Navy in 1953. In 1978, she was sold and renamed Taluk Ambon, serving until 1983 when she was deleted from shipping registers.
The ship was built as yard number 707 by A Hall and Co, Aberdeen. She was launched on 10 July 1945 and completed in September 1945. Mies was 105 feet 2 inches (32.05 m) long, with a beam of 27 feet 1 inch (8.26 m) and had a depth of 11 feet 7 inches (3.53 m). The ship had a GRT of 242 and a NRT of 218. Mies was propelled by a triple expansion steam engine, which had cylinders of 16 inches (41 cm), 25 inches (64 cm) and 42 inches (110 cm) diameter by 27 inches (69 cm) stroke. The engine was No. 416, It was built by Hall & Co.
Križ is a village and a municipality of western Moslavina, located southeast from Zagreb, near Ivanić-Grad. In the 2011 Croatian census, the population of the Križ municipality numbers 6,963 people, with 1,821 residents in the village itself.
The total municipality population is 6,963, distributed in the following settlements:
Križ is an historic place and centre of "Ivanić region". The history of Križ, or "Križ pod Obedom" as it was once called, is closely tied to the history of "Ivanić Grad and Kloštar Ivanić", even though Križ has some unique roots, too. As customary in the past, the place was named after a sacral monument – the church of the Assumption of the Holy Cross. "Križ" (meaning Cross) is indirectly mentioned for the first time in 1334 when it was recorded as one of Zagreb Diocese parishes.
KRI, kri, or Kri may refer to:
Križ (cross in several Slavic languages) may refer to:
Land of treason-waste no reason-
we are breathing fire
We're packs of dogs-
we're enemies of men-we are not desired
Our face show-
we've grown cold-but
have not conspired
Old hearts gone-
the future's on-mother nations mired
I like a recepticle for the chosen dead,
we find our bodies clawed
And with the scent of death,
we find that we are not so very awed
Loyalties burned-
the words our blurred-overturn your own
Walk like dogs and watch the doors-
have your other stone
Stop the toys that match disordered-
calculate the thrones
Feel the pulse descending-
decaying hallowed tomes
In the starving sense you worship-
the nations of debris
You wear a cost of sewage-
that you've never ever seen
The time is now-the vicious here-
a stolen dinner code
The license of the savage land-
that you've always sold
So bite the hand that needs you
and bless another coal
The virus never issues-
from a cotton so very old
As the lights come down
You wash your hands and start to climb
the ladder that you stole
Slip the hatch-and spin the sword-
the money lords are poor
Push the tan-that rolls downhill-
their sense of dream absorbed
Still the cat that breaks the night-
tie him to the core
Chase the viruses that believe-
that what's right is scored
It's a senseless cash in of right for right-
what's wrong is never gone
And left is just a bassion for the fools