WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020
From my youth up I never liked the city.
I never forgot the mountains where I was born.
The world caught me and harnessed me
And drove me through dust, thirty years away from home.
Migratory birds return to the same tree.
Fish find their way back to the pools where they were hatched.
I have been over the whole country,
And I have come back at last to the garden of my childhood.
My farm is only ten acres.
The farm house has eight or nine rooms.
Elms and willows shade the back garden.
Peach trees stand by the front door.
The village is out of sight.
You can hear dogs bark in the alleys,
And cocks crow in the mulberry trees.
When you come through the gate into the court
You will find no dust or mess.
Peace and quiet live in every room.
I am content to stay here the rest of my life.
At last I have found myself.
— Tao Yuan Ming (Tao Qian) Chinese, 365-427
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Untold heroics by unnamed men, now buried and forgotten by all except the ghosts they share the battlefields with; friend and enemy alike now bound by the contest that killed them. None of them knew what the next instant would bring, but all of them knew the desperate struggle and the fear and the sweat and the stink and the blood in the dark sand and the flames in the caves. Thousands of men thrown up against a big rock where thousands of other men had prepared well for exactly that. The few men in the film and in the photos became known but only because of their accidental fame and to them we owe a debt: They were the cast that made the battle famous and gave at least some of the dead an animated memorial of sorts.
Heroics by men from all over the free world have kept this planet from the death of all forms of socialism but I’m pretty damned sure that the current crop of tattooed, drugged, tranny minded, LBGTQ embracing, free ranging and by-God useless and pussified, cell phone addicted men who comprise the vast majority of service aged men in this country wouldn’t get through the first week of Boot Camp at a Mediterranean spa and they certainly wouldn’t last 5 seconds with a DI crawling up their butts. They’re so pitiful that I wouldn’t even want to watch them endure Boot in any branch of the service.
Our military is filled with great men and women but the only thing that keeps the country safe is its proliferation of weapons that guarantee pure hell on earth, for everyone, in a conflict. Internally, we’re fucked.
one of those men was a navy medical corpsman/pharmacist’s mate. his son, unaware of the particulars of his father’s wartime experience, as he never talked of it, investigated it after his death, his interest driven by finding his father’s awarded navy cross among his effects.
wrote a book about it, and his father, maybe 35 years ago (?)