Today is the 68th anniversary of Pearl Harbor and I hope you will take a moment to remember what is now the second worst day in American history and the 2402 Americans who died there. Every year fewer and fewer of those who fought and survived World War II remain for us to thank. Both of my grandfathers and a number of great uncles fought in that war and all are now gone. Fortunately they told stories about their experiences that I will remember for years to come.
Pearl Harbor was one of the darkest days in American history. Just as many Americans awaited more and worse attacks in the dark days after 9/11/01, numerous Americans - especially those on the west coast and in Hawaii - lived in great fear of a Japanese invasion of America. Of course that invasion never came and in the microscope of history we know that Japan really didn't have the ability to launch a mass invasion of the US Mainland with the bulk of their ground forces sweeping through the Republic of China and Indochina.
A mere six months later the Battle of Midway (June 4-7, 1942) drove off the spectre of invasion completely as the rejuvenated US Navy tore apart the Japanese armada and made them a third rate naval power in one blow. Though the battles in the Pacific would rage on above and below water for three more years Japan was always on the defensive from Midway on.
Less than four years later, Japan's emperor stood on the decks of the USS Missouri, in the bay of Tokyo Harbor signing a complete and utter surrender of his nation without terms while two of his most important cities still burned from the atomic blasts that devastated them. In the final analysis Pearl Harbor was a brilliant tactical moment and victory for Japan (in the west, we consider sneak attacks as a sign of cowardice and evil but in the east it is an acceptable tactic - something to consider when dealing with out Chinese 'friends') but it was a horrible strategic miscalculation. Without the ability to press the attack by following up with an invasion of Hawaii, which would have starved out islands like Midway and forced the US to operate from its own shores or from the Alaskan islands far to the north; all the attack on Pearl Harbor achieved for them was to gain an additional, intractable, and righteously angry enemy before they had chased the British out of the Pacific and hamstrung or crushed Australia as an allied base of operations.
I feel sorry for Amanda Knox. I can't imagine facing murder charges in America where the burden of proof is on the prosecution to demonstrate that you did it; but to have to face the charges in a nation without many of the guarantees the accused has here and in which the burden is on the defense to demonstrate that the accused did not commit the crime must have been overwhelming. Now I don't think she did it but I have to qualify my belief because as a man seeing an attractive young woman in distress, my protective instincts start firing up. Would I be as protective if she wasn't attractive? - that's hard to say. I don't believe that she killed her roommate but she could be hiding a Machiavellian evil inside her that we miss simply because she's attractive. In the American media we only get one side of the story and I think we lose sight of the first victim; Meredith Kercher - also a lovely young woman. I want justice for her but convicting someone of her murder wholly on circumstantial evidence is a crime in itself as it denies both Meredith and Amanda justice. There is a cautionary tale here as well. As much as you should take care with whom you associate here in America, all of us and moreso young Americans need to scrutinize their acquaintances and new friends if they are travelling, working, or schooling alone overseas.
I also feel sorry for Lindsay Lohan. Like many of you, I practically watched the spunky little freckle-faced red-head grow up in Disney movies never suspecting that pretty much everyone in her life was exploiting her. I think this happens to a number of child stars and thanks to 'reality' television it seems to be happening to a lot of other children as well. We may not be far from a day when Child Protective Services come busting through your door to wrestle away your children because you dared spank them but they ignore the real damage done to children by television shows like John and Kate Plus Eight (neither one seems a fit parent and all I've ever seen is what they show on The Soup); Wife Swap (two parents were so celebrity addicted they faked their son being in a runaway balloon for publicity early this fall); and by far the worst Toddlers and Tiaras which is nothing less than the sexualization of children (again other than seeing it appear on my on-screen guide as I search my 200+ channels for something decent to watch because Phineas and Ferb isn't on, I've only seen excerpts from it on The Soup which disgusts me enough).
Finally today, my un-Christian moment. I HATE Harry Reid and Barrack Obama. I hate Nancy Pelosi and Barbara Boxer. These people deserve our ire and disdain. They are poised to force Cap and Trade on us in spite of the fact that man caused global warming has been discredited completely, are ready to finish forcing government run health care on us in spite of public opinion, and are finding ways to spend us into oblivion. At the risk of baiting the black helicopters and an FBI investigation, I wish for the crazed Japanese pilot in Tom Clancy that rammed a 747 into the Capitol Building. That little part of me that fights against my Christian upbringing makes a little smile curl on my lip when I imagine them all suffering eternal torment in Hell. Its hard to ignore. It whispers in my ear the hope that God does not have mercy on their souls. I know its not right but its there. It is about ultimate revenge and it embarrasses me to admit it because I know that I should love my enemy and make no mistake; these people ARE my enemy and YOURS.
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Monday, December 7, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Remembering the Berlin Wall
Well surprise, surprise! The Anointed One, Barrack Hussein Obama (mmm...mmm...mmm), is sitting out the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. I'm guessing that he couldn't figure out a way to make it about him so why bother going. The other likely reason is that since he doesn't believe in individual freedom why would he celebrate the greatest single event that symbolizes freeing individuals?
In 1985, I had the great good fortune to visit Berlin - East and West. At that time no one, especially a dozen teenagers from small town Idaho, could imagine that the Berlin Wall would be rubble a mere four years later. We could hardly even imagine the powerful statement President Reagan would make two years later demanding that Mr. Gorbachev tear down the wall. The wall looked permanent and immovable just like the Soviet Bloc. Towers shielded by reflective glass looked grimly down on gray concrete wall topped by miles of barbed wire. As if emphasizing the differences between East and West, the buildings of West Berlin looked bright and cheerful while those on the East side of the wall looked like they were built in gray scale. In East Berlin, all colors seemed muted and when visiting the other side, it was as if some unseen creature was sucking the joy from your soul.
Crossing into East Germany and East Berlin was a daunting prospect. Our bus was boarded by soldiers in dingy olive uniforms armed with sub-machineguns at the checkpoint. They checked our passports closely, counted us several times, and checked to make sure we weren't carrying contraband print material (especially bibles) into East Berlin. On the way out, we were counted several times again to make sure we weren't smuggling anyone out.
A small group of us accompanied by chaperons crossed at Checkpoint Charlie to catch dinner and the State run opera company on the East side. Again, there were queues and a maze of narrow halls lined by unnamed and uncounted East German soldiers; all on guard against the 'evils' of western freedom. Then we emerged behind the Iron Curtain, potential prisoners of the state just like the millions of East Germans that the wall was built to contain; blissfully unaware of the Stazi (East German KGB) officer likely trailing us. (And this isn't idle, anti-Communist paranoia; the officer was equally likely there to ensure our safety as to spy on us. After all, the last thing the East German government needed was an international incident involving American teens.)
Then there was the wall itself. On the East side, it was bordered by a no-man's land of bare ground dotted with land mines and a second wall. The wall cut through Berlin with the same disdain of human desire and hatred of freedom as the system that created it. Once busy streets now dead-ended at the wall. Subways were cut off by the wall. German friends and families were cut off by the wall. The western side became a graffiti covered running commentary of Germany's Cold War with itself. In an age before the blog, all manner of people 'blogged' on the wall. Missives against communism and capitalism dotted the wall. Here and there one could find lamentations for those trapped behind the wall, exhortations for unity, disarmament, and peace. Then there were countless names with and without dates.
Berlin and Germany left an indelible impression in my mind; one that has and continues to inform my political opinions. The close experience with the naked totalitarianism of the Soviet system is partially responsible for my conversion from an ordinary center-rightist to a Crusader.
Mine was the last generation of the Cold War. Many of those born a mere five years after me were barely aware of the rest of the world when the Berlin wall fell. If there is a down side to the end of Soviet/Warsaw Pact totalitarianism, it is that the Millenials and beyond will not be able to see firsthand evidence of the evils of Communism. The soft socialism of Europe and the velvet-gloved Communism that Red China projects to the world look far less insidious than they really are. These things make us susceptible to the idea of government as a benefactor. We begin to fall for the idea that we have rights to health care, housing, food, water, cable television, and a whole list of the things most of us know we have to work for. As we begin to embrace soft socialism we will indenture ourselves to the government. We will accept George Carlin's 'happy face fascism' because security is easier than freedom. And one day, we will have given away enough freedoms that government can take off the velvet glove to reveal the iron fist. If that day comes, this time there will be no wall; no bastion of individual freedom left to fight against it. What Lenin, Stalin, Hitler, Mao and like minded individuals failed to do by force, we will do to ourselves through soft words and good intentions.
In 1985, I had the great good fortune to visit Berlin - East and West. At that time no one, especially a dozen teenagers from small town Idaho, could imagine that the Berlin Wall would be rubble a mere four years later. We could hardly even imagine the powerful statement President Reagan would make two years later demanding that Mr. Gorbachev tear down the wall. The wall looked permanent and immovable just like the Soviet Bloc. Towers shielded by reflective glass looked grimly down on gray concrete wall topped by miles of barbed wire. As if emphasizing the differences between East and West, the buildings of West Berlin looked bright and cheerful while those on the East side of the wall looked like they were built in gray scale. In East Berlin, all colors seemed muted and when visiting the other side, it was as if some unseen creature was sucking the joy from your soul.
Crossing into East Germany and East Berlin was a daunting prospect. Our bus was boarded by soldiers in dingy olive uniforms armed with sub-machineguns at the checkpoint. They checked our passports closely, counted us several times, and checked to make sure we weren't carrying contraband print material (especially bibles) into East Berlin. On the way out, we were counted several times again to make sure we weren't smuggling anyone out.
A small group of us accompanied by chaperons crossed at Checkpoint Charlie to catch dinner and the State run opera company on the East side. Again, there were queues and a maze of narrow halls lined by unnamed and uncounted East German soldiers; all on guard against the 'evils' of western freedom. Then we emerged behind the Iron Curtain, potential prisoners of the state just like the millions of East Germans that the wall was built to contain; blissfully unaware of the Stazi (East German KGB) officer likely trailing us. (And this isn't idle, anti-Communist paranoia; the officer was equally likely there to ensure our safety as to spy on us. After all, the last thing the East German government needed was an international incident involving American teens.)
Then there was the wall itself. On the East side, it was bordered by a no-man's land of bare ground dotted with land mines and a second wall. The wall cut through Berlin with the same disdain of human desire and hatred of freedom as the system that created it. Once busy streets now dead-ended at the wall. Subways were cut off by the wall. German friends and families were cut off by the wall. The western side became a graffiti covered running commentary of Germany's Cold War with itself. In an age before the blog, all manner of people 'blogged' on the wall. Missives against communism and capitalism dotted the wall. Here and there one could find lamentations for those trapped behind the wall, exhortations for unity, disarmament, and peace. Then there were countless names with and without dates.
Berlin and Germany left an indelible impression in my mind; one that has and continues to inform my political opinions. The close experience with the naked totalitarianism of the Soviet system is partially responsible for my conversion from an ordinary center-rightist to a Crusader.
Mine was the last generation of the Cold War. Many of those born a mere five years after me were barely aware of the rest of the world when the Berlin wall fell. If there is a down side to the end of Soviet/Warsaw Pact totalitarianism, it is that the Millenials and beyond will not be able to see firsthand evidence of the evils of Communism. The soft socialism of Europe and the velvet-gloved Communism that Red China projects to the world look far less insidious than they really are. These things make us susceptible to the idea of government as a benefactor. We begin to fall for the idea that we have rights to health care, housing, food, water, cable television, and a whole list of the things most of us know we have to work for. As we begin to embrace soft socialism we will indenture ourselves to the government. We will accept George Carlin's 'happy face fascism' because security is easier than freedom. And one day, we will have given away enough freedoms that government can take off the velvet glove to reveal the iron fist. If that day comes, this time there will be no wall; no bastion of individual freedom left to fight against it. What Lenin, Stalin, Hitler, Mao and like minded individuals failed to do by force, we will do to ourselves through soft words and good intentions.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Trafalgar
Random Thought: Does the Obama war on Fox News and talk radio make you think the Clinton's were thick skinned by comparison?
RTII: If the Constitution is a 'living' document then doesn't that mean that something or someone can kill it?
RTIII: I don't know if I'm more disturbed by Anita Dunne's incessant lip licking or the fact the Kathleen Sibelius right eye opens all the way and her left is mostly closed (although it looks like her mascara glued it shut).
He was the first modern dictator. He was ruthless, cunning, and one of the most brilliant generals to ever live. He was called the first AntiChrist. He was Napoleon Bonaparte, the Emperor of France and on this date 204 years ago he suffered his first major setback in his quest to conquer the world.
The architect of that setback was Admiral Horatio Nelson, hair turned prematurely white from a near fatal wound and missing his right arm from an ill-conceived Battle to take Tenerife in the Canary Islands. He was already a legend in England for exploits in the Battles of Cape St. Vincent, the Nile, and Copenhagen - all of which nibbled away at Napoleon's naval capacity. At Trafalgar he would become immortal.
Near Cadiz, Spain lies a small spit of land called Cape Trafalgar. In the Atlantic Ocean just to the west the historic battle took place.
At Trafalgar, Nelson was outnumbered 27 ships to the combined French-Spanish fleet of 33 (actually it was 33 British ships to 40 French but naval battles of the day only counted Ships-of-the-Line which were heavily gunned). Nelson was confident of victory even though outnumbered and outgunned. The British fleet attacked in two lines cutting the Franco-Spanish fleet in two places near the middle of their line. Four hours later, the British had captured 22 enemy ships with the loss of none (though several were badly mauled).
However, the British suffered one very important casualty. Nelson had been hit by an enemy sharpshooter. The ball smashed his internal organs and crushed his backbone. Still, he managed to keep tabs on the battle from below decks (even issuing orders) and lived long enough to know that his victory had been won.
Today Nelson remains one of the most celebrated figures of English history. He stands atop a victory column in Trafalgar square, his last, unfinished letter is preserved at the British Library, his portrait hangs in the National Portrait Gallery and his face looks out over England from schools to pubs and virtually everything else. His victory and martyrdom at Trafalgar ensured him a shrine in the basement of St. Paul's Cathedral, a beautiful onyx crypt set on a pedestal (in spite of the many signs forbidding touching the crypt, I could not help reach out and lay a hand on it). It also crushed Napoleon's overseas ambitions and ensured British world naval dominance for the next century.
Nelson's victory might be little more than a historical footnote to many people, especially those outside of England. But in a world where the 'heroes' are felonious sport stars, drugged up actors and rockers, and brainless 'reality stars', it becomes increasingly important to remember and celebrate real heroes. Nelson and many others gave their lives in a struggle against one of the modern world's first tyrants. Unlike a whiny, useless heiress with an even more useless dog in her purse or a sports star who has come back from a (usually self created) tragic story to return to the game, real heroes overcame real adversity. Nelson could have retired to the country after losing his arm and no one would have argued with him when he said that his arm was enough sacrifice for his nation. But he went out again and only with his last breaths did he claim that right when he told Captain Thomas Hardy: "Thank God I have done my duty."
RTII: If the Constitution is a 'living' document then doesn't that mean that something or someone can kill it?
RTIII: I don't know if I'm more disturbed by Anita Dunne's incessant lip licking or the fact the Kathleen Sibelius right eye opens all the way and her left is mostly closed (although it looks like her mascara glued it shut).
He was the first modern dictator. He was ruthless, cunning, and one of the most brilliant generals to ever live. He was called the first AntiChrist. He was Napoleon Bonaparte, the Emperor of France and on this date 204 years ago he suffered his first major setback in his quest to conquer the world.
The architect of that setback was Admiral Horatio Nelson, hair turned prematurely white from a near fatal wound and missing his right arm from an ill-conceived Battle to take Tenerife in the Canary Islands. He was already a legend in England for exploits in the Battles of Cape St. Vincent, the Nile, and Copenhagen - all of which nibbled away at Napoleon's naval capacity. At Trafalgar he would become immortal.
Near Cadiz, Spain lies a small spit of land called Cape Trafalgar. In the Atlantic Ocean just to the west the historic battle took place.
At Trafalgar, Nelson was outnumbered 27 ships to the combined French-Spanish fleet of 33 (actually it was 33 British ships to 40 French but naval battles of the day only counted Ships-of-the-Line which were heavily gunned). Nelson was confident of victory even though outnumbered and outgunned. The British fleet attacked in two lines cutting the Franco-Spanish fleet in two places near the middle of their line. Four hours later, the British had captured 22 enemy ships with the loss of none (though several were badly mauled).
However, the British suffered one very important casualty. Nelson had been hit by an enemy sharpshooter. The ball smashed his internal organs and crushed his backbone. Still, he managed to keep tabs on the battle from below decks (even issuing orders) and lived long enough to know that his victory had been won.
Today Nelson remains one of the most celebrated figures of English history. He stands atop a victory column in Trafalgar square, his last, unfinished letter is preserved at the British Library, his portrait hangs in the National Portrait Gallery and his face looks out over England from schools to pubs and virtually everything else. His victory and martyrdom at Trafalgar ensured him a shrine in the basement of St. Paul's Cathedral, a beautiful onyx crypt set on a pedestal (in spite of the many signs forbidding touching the crypt, I could not help reach out and lay a hand on it). It also crushed Napoleon's overseas ambitions and ensured British world naval dominance for the next century.
Nelson's victory might be little more than a historical footnote to many people, especially those outside of England. But in a world where the 'heroes' are felonious sport stars, drugged up actors and rockers, and brainless 'reality stars', it becomes increasingly important to remember and celebrate real heroes. Nelson and many others gave their lives in a struggle against one of the modern world's first tyrants. Unlike a whiny, useless heiress with an even more useless dog in her purse or a sports star who has come back from a (usually self created) tragic story to return to the game, real heroes overcame real adversity. Nelson could have retired to the country after losing his arm and no one would have argued with him when he said that his arm was enough sacrifice for his nation. But he went out again and only with his last breaths did he claim that right when he told Captain Thomas Hardy: "Thank God I have done my duty."
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Battle of Hastings
Today October 14, 2009 is the 943rd anniversary of the Battle of Hastings and in all likelihood most of you have just thought 'so what'. Well, though the battle occurred nearly a thousand years ago it impacts us all today in ways we don't even realize. For instance, if it had not ended the way it did, we would sound more like the Swedish Chef when talking (think about that the next time you're reading Shakespeare).
1066 did not start as a pivotal year in world history. A French loving English king named Edward the Confessor shuffled off his mortal coil. He had no children but at this point that was not an issue since the Anglo Saxons didn't go in for all that 'royal' blood stuff. The Witanagemot - a sort of proto-parliament - elected English kings through acclamation. So they got together and elected a guy named Harold Godwinson, son of the Earl (his title not his first name) Godwin (hence the name Godwinson) of Wessex. He became Harold II and you would think that everything was okay after that but...
Apparently before Edward died, he promised a Frankified Scandinavian, William Duke of Normandy also known as William the Bastard because he was, well...a bastard (in both meanings of the word) the crown. To make matters worse, another Harold, this one from Norway, said that he deserved the throne because he was related to the king before Edward, a Norwegian guy named Canute, or Knut (no relation to the Rockne family). One wonders at what point the English Harold thought the Witanagemot did not like him. Are you with me so far?
As if that weren't bad enough, William claimed that Harold promised not to become king over some sacred bones. So he sent ambassadors to Rome and got some Papal Bull that said Harold would be kicked out of the Catholic club if he didn't give the crown to William. Papal Bulls don't understand or care much for Anglo Saxon common law. The Witanagemot and Harold said "No Way Jose!" to the Papal Poop - which must have sounded funny with a Norwegian accent - and war was inevitable at this point.
Okay, in late September the Norwegian Harold invaded England near York and the English Harold rushed to fight him at a place called Stamford Bridge. The Norwegian Harold lost the battle and the ability to exchange oxygen and the English had a very good day. But before the English could get their groove on, news that William landed near Hastings arrived and Harold force marched his army south. The two armies met (a total of under 20,000 men; pretty small by modern comparison) in a battle that lasted from just after sunrise to near sunset that day. Harold fell to an arrow (in the eye) and most of England would concede to William by Christmas.
Though the Normans won the day and brought hereditary kingship to England, they failed to eradicate the Anglo Saxon common law. In fact, thanks to Hastings, those of us of English descent cling more tightly to that Anglo Saxon heritage. In 1215 the French nobles were so Anglicized that they presented King John with a bill (the Magna Carta) demanding their (English) rights be returned. The framers of the Constitution relied heavily on the Anglo Saxon law written in their DNA to justify the revolution and they put on paper for the first time the rights we (Anglo Saxons) know are granted to us from God. Prior to 1066 every Saxon understood his rights to speak his mind, assemble for redress of grievances, to have a representative voice before the king (remember the Witanagemot), to build, buy, and carry weapons for self defense and hunting, to be judged by an assembly of their peers, and to be secure in their homes, labors, and possessions. In this modern age where our legislators are increasingly power hungry, grabbing for rights that we have held sacred since before written history, and demanding an ever increasing amount of the fruits of our labor; it is important to remember the Battle of Hastings. Hastings proves that though we may lose battles in the war between personal freedom and authoritarianism, the power of those ideals endure.
1066 did not start as a pivotal year in world history. A French loving English king named Edward the Confessor shuffled off his mortal coil. He had no children but at this point that was not an issue since the Anglo Saxons didn't go in for all that 'royal' blood stuff. The Witanagemot - a sort of proto-parliament - elected English kings through acclamation. So they got together and elected a guy named Harold Godwinson, son of the Earl (his title not his first name) Godwin (hence the name Godwinson) of Wessex. He became Harold II and you would think that everything was okay after that but...
Apparently before Edward died, he promised a Frankified Scandinavian, William Duke of Normandy also known as William the Bastard because he was, well...a bastard (in both meanings of the word) the crown. To make matters worse, another Harold, this one from Norway, said that he deserved the throne because he was related to the king before Edward, a Norwegian guy named Canute, or Knut (no relation to the Rockne family). One wonders at what point the English Harold thought the Witanagemot did not like him. Are you with me so far?
As if that weren't bad enough, William claimed that Harold promised not to become king over some sacred bones. So he sent ambassadors to Rome and got some Papal Bull that said Harold would be kicked out of the Catholic club if he didn't give the crown to William. Papal Bulls don't understand or care much for Anglo Saxon common law. The Witanagemot and Harold said "No Way Jose!" to the Papal Poop - which must have sounded funny with a Norwegian accent - and war was inevitable at this point.
Okay, in late September the Norwegian Harold invaded England near York and the English Harold rushed to fight him at a place called Stamford Bridge. The Norwegian Harold lost the battle and the ability to exchange oxygen and the English had a very good day. But before the English could get their groove on, news that William landed near Hastings arrived and Harold force marched his army south. The two armies met (a total of under 20,000 men; pretty small by modern comparison) in a battle that lasted from just after sunrise to near sunset that day. Harold fell to an arrow (in the eye) and most of England would concede to William by Christmas.
Though the Normans won the day and brought hereditary kingship to England, they failed to eradicate the Anglo Saxon common law. In fact, thanks to Hastings, those of us of English descent cling more tightly to that Anglo Saxon heritage. In 1215 the French nobles were so Anglicized that they presented King John with a bill (the Magna Carta) demanding their (English) rights be returned. The framers of the Constitution relied heavily on the Anglo Saxon law written in their DNA to justify the revolution and they put on paper for the first time the rights we (Anglo Saxons) know are granted to us from God. Prior to 1066 every Saxon understood his rights to speak his mind, assemble for redress of grievances, to have a representative voice before the king (remember the Witanagemot), to build, buy, and carry weapons for self defense and hunting, to be judged by an assembly of their peers, and to be secure in their homes, labors, and possessions. In this modern age where our legislators are increasingly power hungry, grabbing for rights that we have held sacred since before written history, and demanding an ever increasing amount of the fruits of our labor; it is important to remember the Battle of Hastings. Hastings proves that though we may lose battles in the war between personal freedom and authoritarianism, the power of those ideals endure.
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