eMail from One ‘Angry Woman’

One angry American woman who loves God, Country and Freedom has let her heart out on paper.   I must warn you ahead of time that this one goes straight for the throat.  So, if you are easily offended you may not want to listen to her story.  She has a definite opinion and is not bashful about it.  This one hit the email forward campaigns recently.

My message to the thousands of men and women serving in the military today is this:  The world is full of noisy people who are always being heard.  But, as President Nixon said, “…there is a great silent majority out there who are fed up with the way things are…” and they are about to wake up and tell the world.

I don’t know the lady who wrote this, but she should have signed it. These are some very powerful words. This woman should run for president. It is only known that she is a housewife from New Jersey. This is one ticked off lady  and I believe she is part of that “great silent majority”.  She writes:

‘Are we fighting a war on terror or aren’t we? Was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11, 2001?

Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan, across the Potomac from our nation’s capitol and in a field in Pennsylvania ? 

Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or crushing death that day, or didn’t they? 

And I’m supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was ‘desecrated’ when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet? …Well, I don’t. I don’t care at all. 

I’ll start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.

I’ll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start caring about the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia 

I’ll care when these thugs tell the world they are sorry for chopping off Nick Berg’s head while Berg screamed through his gurgling slashed throat. 

I’ll care when the cowardly so-called ‘insurgents’ in Iraq come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques. 

I’ll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide.

I’ll care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution’s Bill of Rights. 

In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this: I don’t care. 

When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to a college-hazing incident, rest assured: I don’t care. 

When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank: I don’t care … 

When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed ‘special’ food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being ‘mishandled,’ you can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts: I don’t care. 

And oh, by the way, I’ve noticed that sometimes it’s spelled ‘Koran’ and other times ‘Quran.’ Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and-you guessed it – I don’t care!! 

If you agree with this viewpoint, pass this on to all your E-mail friends. Sooner or later, it’ll get to the people responsible for this ridiculous behavior! 

If you don’t agree, then by all means hit the delete button. Should you choose the latter, then please don’t complain when more atrocities committed by radical Muslims happen here in our great Country! And may I add: 

‘Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don’t have that problem’ — Ronald Reagan 

I have another quote that I would like to add AND….I hope you forward all this. 

‘If we ever forget that we’re One Nation Under God, then we will be a nation gone under.’ - – also by Ronald Reagan. 

One last thought for the day: 

In case we find ourselves starting to believe all the Anti-American sentiment and negativity, we should remember England’s Prime Minister Tony Blair’s words during a recent interview. When asked by one of his Parliament members why he believes so much in America, he said: ‘A simple way to take measure of a country is to look at how many want in…And how many want out.’ 

The last thing, by the way, that we should do is to elect as President of the United States, someone who claims to love America yet, WILL NOT salute the flag, WILL NOT pledge allegiance to our flag, and sat in a church listening to a ‘pastor’ that HATES America!  Are you (term deleted)’ kidding me? 

Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you:

1. JESUS CHRIST

2. THE AMERICAN G. I. 

One died for your soul, the other for your freedom.

YOU MIGHT WANT TO PASS THIS ON, AS MANY SEEM TO FORGET BOTH OF THEM.

AMEN!

I remember my first 4th of July, as a small boy, perhaps 6 or 7 years old. My Mom and Dad’s friends had come to our house to play cards and shoot off some sky rockets. I was kinda bored, waiting for dark and the fireworks to begin.  I decided to go into the basement and play. 

There in the middle of the basement floor set all the things my dad was going to take to summer camp in a couple weeks.  He spent his two week summer training at Camp Ripley, Mn.  In later years, as a teen, I would accompany Dad to summer camp and work in the mess hall as a helper while he trained.

My dad was my hero, through and through.  I always loved looking at his military gear.  Most of all I was always intrigued by his footlocker.  His name, rank and service number stenciled on the side in
dark green paint.  It made it seem so official and yet so mysterious.   I wanted to get a closer look at this big mysterious box.  There was a large lock on the hasp but it was hanging open.  As I gingerly peeked inside I saw the usual socks, underwear, hankies, belts, a deck of cards, a couple packs of Raleigh unfiltered
cigarettes.  He told me in later years he liked to stock up on them at camp because they were so cheap.  This was in 1954 or 1055, so I doubt they were much more than $1.50 to $1.75 a carton.

Anyway, as I continued looking around I noticed that the top display section lifted our.  I grabbed it and lifted it gently out of the footlocker and sat it on the floor.  There were shirts and slacks, khakis and fatigues. Under the top shirts, there in the corner was something shiny.  It looked like leather.  What treasure was this?  I picked it up and looked closely at it.  I didn’t recognize it. 
I had never seen it.  Wait, there is a flap with a snap on it.  I wondered what treasure could possible be tucked inside there.

I lifted it up to get a better look at it and the snap must have been open.  As soon as I lifted it up a big black metal thud hit the floor.  About the same time it hit the floor, Dad came down the basement steps to check on me.  He surveyed the situation and yelled at me…"Allen, get back.  Don’t touch that!  It can hurt you!"  He rushed over, picked it up, put it back in the leather pouch,
stuck it back in the footlocker, closed the lid and locked the lock.

He looked sternly at me and asked me if I was OK.  I answered "Yes Daddy.  I’m OK. Why what’s the matter?"  By this time his eyes were a little moist and he had a strange look on his face. He didn’t answer me.  I asked him,  "Daddy, what was that thing?"  This time he answered me…"a gun".

"A gun? I asked, "like they kill people with Daddy?" "Yes, Allen."  "Daddy, did you ever kill anyone with your gun?"  His reply was a muffled sound I could not make out.  In later years I found out his answer was "More than I wanted to…"

As I grew into a teen, my father and I talked of his service in WWII.  He was stationed in the Philippines.  Later on, when the conflict in Korea broke out he went back in and spent time there as well.  We often talked of going back to the Philippines for my graduation.  We were going to retrace his steps.  He always wanted to show me how beautiful he thought the country could be without the war and
the pain.

As I grew into a young man, I spent my time in the service, from 1968 to 1977.  I was one of the lucky few that received a good assignment.  But during those nine years, I learned what that expression was on my father’s face that night in the basement.  It was the same expression you have when you watch your best buddy suddenly go limp as he is hit with a stinging round.  It is the same expression you
have when a casket is closed for the last time. It is the expression you have when death stares you in the face and snatches something important away from you…and you know there is absolutely nothing you can do…it is too late to stop it…you can only pray.

My father and I grew much closer as adults.  We often talked about the military, politics, the stock market, anything serious.  He taught me a lot about life.  Some of it I didn’t like, but it was the truth.  Sometimes the truth isn’t always likeable, but you can’t change it, so you learn to accept it. 

When he died, he had a military funeral.  As I stood before his casket, at graveside, the rifles fired their salute and taps played, I raised my hand to salute him.  That night in the bedroom is my earliest memory of my dad and his funeral is the last.  This highly decorated hero of WWII and Korea had carried a lot of burden throughout his life.  I think it was responsible for a lot of the phases in his
life, good and bad.  But he was my hero.  His valor and courage carried him through combat as surely as they carried him through life.

My father was only one of millions of men, and women, who gave their all for their country, without question but carried a painful burden when they returned home.  I will certainly remember him and all the rest this Independence Day.  They paid for our freedom.  Let us not forget them.

This story was received through an email recently.  It is a story about the people who make our freedom possible.

Welcome to American Valor

Valor: “…courage in defense of a noble cause.”

We are not a political statement. We are not a debating forum. Pure and simple, we are a tribute to the men and women serving their country in the military, now and throughout history.

We will be accepting photographs, stories and more that honor those before us. Let us come to appreciate and thank those who serve to protect our freedom.

What is an American?

An article on “What is an American” was published in response to reports of rewards in Pakistan for killing an American,…any American!

The article was reported to have been written by an Australian dentist. It says that in Pakistan, a published report said there was a reward available to anyone who killed an American. The article goes on to describe the ethnic and religious diversity as well as the character of Americans.

The actual article was published in National Review magazine shortly after the Attack on America in September, 2001.

It was written by Peter Ferrara, an associate professor of law at the George Mason University School of Law:

An American is Christian, or he could be Jewish, Buddhist, or Muslim. In fact, there are more Muslims in America than in Afghanistan. The only difference is that in America they are free to worship as each of them chooses.

An American is also free to believe in no religion. For that he will answer only to God, not to the government, or to armed thugs claiming to speak for the government and for God.

An American is from the most prosperous land in the history of the world. The root of that prosperity can be found in the Declaration of Independence, which recognizes the God given right of each man and woman to the pursuit of happiness.

An American is generous. Americans have helped out just about every other nation in the world in their time of need. When Afghanistan was overrun by
the Soviet army 20 years ago, Americans came with arms and supplies to enable the people to win back their country. As of the morning of September 11, Americans had given more than any other nation to the poor in Afghanistan. The best products, the best books, the best music, the best food, the best athletes. Americans welcome the best, but they also welcome the least.

The national symbol of America welcomes your tired and your poor, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores, the homeless, tempest tossed. These in fact are the people who built America. Some of them were working in the Twin Towers in the morning of September 11, earning a better life for their families. [I’ve been told that the people in the Towers were from at least 30, and maybe many more, other countries, cultures, and first languages, including those that aided and abetted the terrorists.

So you can try to kill an American if you must. Hitler did. So did General Tojo, and Stalin, and Mao Tse-Tung, and every bloodthirsty tyrant in the history of the world. But, in doing so you would just be killing yourself. Because Americans are not a particular people from a particular place. They are the embodiment of the human spirit of freedom. Everyone who holds to that
spirit, everywhere, is an American.

So look around you. You may find more Americans in your land than you thought were there. One day they will rise up and overthrow the old, ignorant, tired tyrants that trouble too many lands. Then those lands, too, will join the community of free and prosperous nations. And America will welcome them!"

GOD BLESS OUR WONDERFUL NATION