One Political Plaza - Home of politics
Home Active Topics Newest Pictures Search Login Register
Main
I never thought much about who was defending me.
Sep 13, 2018 11:32:38   #
Capt-jack Loc: Home
 
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was defending me. Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our military who has been k**led, I read his or her name very carefully. Sometimes I cry.

In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way. John was headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with straight backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I live in the Volvo-driving, higher education-worshiping North Shore of Boston I write novels for a living. I have never served in the military.

It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to Georgetown and New York University. John 's enlisting was unexpected, so deeply unsettling. I did not relish the prospect of answering the question, "So where is John going to college?" from the parents who were itching to tell me all about how their son or daughter was going to Harvard. At the private high school John attended, no other students were going into the military.

"But aren't the Marines terribly Southern?" (Says a lot about open-mindedness in the Northeast) asked one perplexed mother while standing next to me at the brunch following graduation. "What a waste, he was such a good student," said another parent. One parent (a professor at a nearby and rather famous university) spoke up at a school meeting and suggested that the school should, carefully evaluate what went wrong."

When John graduated from three months of boot camp on Parris Island, 3000 parents and friends were on the parade deck stands. We parents and our Marines not only were of many races but also were representative of many economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived crammed in the backs of pickups, others by bus. John told me that a lot of parents could not afford the trip.

We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Hispanic, Arab, and African American, and Asian. We were former Marines wearing the scars of battle or at least baseball caps emblazoned with battles' names. We were Southern w****s from Nashville and skinheads from New Jersey, black kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. We would not have been mistaken for the educated and well-heeled parents gathered on the lawns of John's private school a half-year before.

After graduation one new Marine told John, "Before I was a Marine, if I had ever seen you on my block I would've probably k**led you just because you were standing there." This was a serious statement from one of John 's good friends, a black ex-gang member from Detroit who, as John said, "would die for me now, just like I'd die for him."

My son has connected me to my country in a way that I was too selfish and insular to experience before. I feel closer to the waitress at our local diner than to some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the Corps. They are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who fixes my car asks me how John is doing, I know he means it. His younger brother is in the Navy.

Why were I and the other parents at my son's private school so surprised by his choice? During World War II, the sons and daughters of the most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the idea of the immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough to go to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our children to volunteer for military service once that war was done?

Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody else defend us? What is the future of our democracy when the sons and daughters of the janitors at our elite universities are far more likely to be put in harm's way than are any of the students whose dorms their parents clean?

I feel shame because it took my son's joining the Marine Corps to make me take notice of who is defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my son is part of a future "greatest generation." As the storm clouds of war gather, at least I know that I can look the men and women in uniform in the eye. My son is one of them. He is the best I have to offer. John is my heart.

Faith is not about everything turning out OK; Faith is about being OK no matter how things turn out."

Oh, how I wish so many of our younger generations could read this article. It makes me so sad to hear the way they talk with no respect for what their fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers experienced so they can live in freedom. Freedom has been replaced with Free-Dumb

Ending the draft was a big mistake. It divided our country. The elite no longer serve and make fun of those who do serve.

Reply
Sep 13, 2018 11:47:37   #
bggamers Loc: georgia
 
Capt-jack wrote:
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was defending me. Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our military who has been k**led, I read his or her name very carefully. Sometimes I cry.

In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way. John was headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with straight backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I live in the Volvo-driving, higher education-worshiping North Shore of Boston I write novels for a living. I have never served in the military.

It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to Georgetown and New York University. John 's enlisting was unexpected, so deeply unsettling. I did not relish the prospect of answering the question, "So where is John going to college?" from the parents who were itching to tell me all about how their son or daughter was going to Harvard. At the private high school John attended, no other students were going into the military.

"But aren't the Marines terribly Southern?" (Says a lot about open-mindedness in the Northeast) asked one perplexed mother while standing next to me at the brunch following graduation. "What a waste, he was such a good student," said another parent. One parent (a professor at a nearby and rather famous university) spoke up at a school meeting and suggested that the school should, carefully evaluate what went wrong."

When John graduated from three months of boot camp on Parris Island, 3000 parents and friends were on the parade deck stands. We parents and our Marines not only were of many races but also were representative of many economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived crammed in the backs of pickups, others by bus. John told me that a lot of parents could not afford the trip.

We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Hispanic, Arab, and African American, and Asian. We were former Marines wearing the scars of battle or at least baseball caps emblazoned with battles' names. We were Southern w****s from Nashville and skinheads from New Jersey, black kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. We would not have been mistaken for the educated and well-heeled parents gathered on the lawns of John's private school a half-year before.

After graduation one new Marine told John, "Before I was a Marine, if I had ever seen you on my block I would've probably k**led you just because you were standing there." This was a serious statement from one of John 's good friends, a black ex-gang member from Detroit who, as John said, "would die for me now, just like I'd die for him."

My son has connected me to my country in a way that I was too selfish and insular to experience before. I feel closer to the waitress at our local diner than to some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the Corps. They are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who fixes my car asks me how John is doing, I know he means it. His younger brother is in the Navy.

Why were I and the other parents at my son's private school so surprised by his choice? During World War II, the sons and daughters of the most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the idea of the immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough to go to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our children to volunteer for military service once that war was done?

Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody else defend us? What is the future of our democracy when the sons and daughters of the janitors at our elite universities are far more likely to be put in harm's way than are any of the students whose dorms their parents clean?

I feel shame because it took my son's joining the Marine Corps to make me take notice of who is defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my son is part of a future "greatest generation." As the storm clouds of war gather, at least I know that I can look the men and women in uniform in the eye. My son is one of them. He is the best I have to offer. John is my heart.

Faith is not about everything turning out OK; Faith is about being OK no matter how things turn out."

Oh, how I wish so many of our younger generations could read this article. It makes me so sad to hear the way they talk with no respect for what their fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers experienced so they can live in freedom. Freedom has been replaced with Free-Dumb

Ending the draft was a big mistake. It divided our country. The elite no longer serve and make fun of those who do serve.
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought muc... (show quote)


Thank you for posting and you are right it is a shame that the military is not there as a choice. When I grew up the military was a judges choice more often then jail a place for young men to learn respect and balance and to teach them p***e in themselves and who and what they do. Both of my brothers served one went to vietnam 2x's one son to the army all are good men and proud of their service so am I.

Reply
Sep 13, 2018 12:24:36   #
Boo_Boo Loc: Jellystone
 
I am moved.... it is not often that such an honest thread comes to OPP. First allow me welcome you to OPP and then if I may, I will add your son to my nightly prayer for his safety.
The t***h is not easy for some.... but, faith is not knowing that everything will be alright.
Faith is accepting the outcome regardless. Again, thank you and a hearty welcome to OPP.


Capt-jack wrote:
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was defending me. Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our military who has been k**led, I read his or her name very carefully. Sometimes I cry.

In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way. John was headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with straight backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I live in the Volvo-driving, higher education-worshiping North Shore of Boston I write novels for a living. I have never served in the military.

It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to Georgetown and New York University. John 's enlisting was unexpected, so deeply unsettling. I did not relish the prospect of answering the question, "So where is John going to college?" from the parents who were itching to tell me all about how their son or daughter was going to Harvard. At the private high school John attended, no other students were going into the military.

"But aren't the Marines terribly Southern?" (Says a lot about open-mindedness in the Northeast) asked one perplexed mother while standing next to me at the brunch following graduation. "What a waste, he was such a good student," said another parent. One parent (a professor at a nearby and rather famous university) spoke up at a school meeting and suggested that the school should, carefully evaluate what went wrong."

When John graduated from three months of boot camp on Parris Island, 3000 parents and friends were on the parade deck stands. We parents and our Marines not only were of many races but also were representative of many economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived crammed in the backs of pickups, others by bus. John told me that a lot of parents could not afford the trip.

We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Hispanic, Arab, and African American, and Asian. We were former Marines wearing the scars of battle or at least baseball caps emblazoned with battles' names. We were Southern w****s from Nashville and skinheads from New Jersey, black kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. We would not have been mistaken for the educated and well-heeled parents gathered on the lawns of John's private school a half-year before.

After graduation one new Marine told John, "Before I was a Marine, if I had ever seen you on my block I would've probably k**led you just because you were standing there." This was a serious statement from one of John 's good friends, a black ex-gang member from Detroit who, as John said, "would die for me now, just like I'd die for him."

My son has connected me to my country in a way that I was too selfish and insular to experience before. I feel closer to the waitress at our local diner than to some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the Corps. They are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who fixes my car asks me how John is doing, I know he means it. His younger brother is in the Navy.

Why were I and the other parents at my son's private school so surprised by his choice? During World War II, the sons and daughters of the most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the idea of the immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough to go to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our children to volunteer for military service once that war was done?

Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody else defend us? What is the future of our democracy when the sons and daughters of the janitors at our elite universities are far more likely to be put in harm's way than are any of the students whose dorms their parents clean?

I feel shame because it took my son's joining the Marine Corps to make me take notice of who is defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my son is part of a future "greatest generation." As the storm clouds of war gather, at least I know that I can look the men and women in uniform in the eye. My son is one of them. He is the best I have to offer. John is my heart.

Faith is not about everything turning out OK; Faith is about being OK no matter how things turn out."

Oh, how I wish so many of our younger generations could read this article. It makes me so sad to hear the way they talk with no respect for what their fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers experienced so they can live in freedom. Freedom has been replaced with Free-Dumb

Ending the draft was a big mistake. It divided our country. The elite no longer serve and make fun of those who do serve.
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought muc... (show quote)

Reply
 
 
Sep 13, 2018 14:44:13   #
no propaganda please Loc: moon orbiting the third rock from the sun
 
Pennylynn wrote:
I am moved.... it is not often that such an honest thread comes to OPP. First allow me welcome you to OPP and then if I may, I will add your son to my nightly prayer for his safety.
The t***h is not easy for some.... but, faith is not knowing that everything will be alright.
Faith is accepting the outcome regardless. Again, thank you and a hearty welcome to OPP.


Excellent comment and much the same as my response when reading the post above. Exceptionally well put article.

Reply
Sep 13, 2018 15:01:32   #
woodguru
 
I think a bit more globally than who is defending me as pertains to the boots on the ground...

I look at the politics of why we are exposing soldiers and putting them in harm's way, but more often than not I'm looking at why soldiers are where they are and not that they are putting their lives in jeopardy but that someone else is jeopardizing their lives for all the wrong reasons.

Is a soldier in Syria that's defending a Conoco refinery defending the country or our country's interests? I'd say hell no, they are defending an oil company's property and revenues, and this is a place that I'd say that that oil company can pay for mercenaries, private security forces, to defend it's property. In Afghanistan do you want your son marching in poppy fields protecting opium and heroin? I have friends that knew that their mission protecting those poppy fields was pure BS, there is no way they are willing to die for that cause. One friend was saying they constantly questioned why a C-130 with cluster bombs wasn't dropped on these fields, or torch them with flame throwers.

Reply
Sep 13, 2018 15:27:26   #
lpnmajor Loc: Arkansas
 
Capt-jack wrote:
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was defending me. Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our military who has been k**led, I read his or her name very carefully. Sometimes I cry.

In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way. John was headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with straight backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I live in the Volvo-driving, higher education-worshiping North Shore of Boston I write novels for a living. I have never served in the military.

It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to Georgetown and New York University. John 's enlisting was unexpected, so deeply unsettling. I did not relish the prospect of answering the question, "So where is John going to college?" from the parents who were itching to tell me all about how their son or daughter was going to Harvard. At the private high school John attended, no other students were going into the military.

"But aren't the Marines terribly Southern?" (Says a lot about open-mindedness in the Northeast) asked one perplexed mother while standing next to me at the brunch following graduation. "What a waste, he was such a good student," said another parent. One parent (a professor at a nearby and rather famous university) spoke up at a school meeting and suggested that the school should, carefully evaluate what went wrong."

When John graduated from three months of boot camp on Parris Island, 3000 parents and friends were on the parade deck stands. We parents and our Marines not only were of many races but also were representative of many economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived crammed in the backs of pickups, others by bus. John told me that a lot of parents could not afford the trip.

We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Hispanic, Arab, and African American, and Asian. We were former Marines wearing the scars of battle or at least baseball caps emblazoned with battles' names. We were Southern w****s from Nashville and skinheads from New Jersey, black kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. We would not have been mistaken for the educated and well-heeled parents gathered on the lawns of John's private school a half-year before.

After graduation one new Marine told John, "Before I was a Marine, if I had ever seen you on my block I would've probably k**led you just because you were standing there." This was a serious statement from one of John 's good friends, a black ex-gang member from Detroit who, as John said, "would die for me now, just like I'd die for him."

My son has connected me to my country in a way that I was too selfish and insular to experience before. I feel closer to the waitress at our local diner than to some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the Corps. They are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who fixes my car asks me how John is doing, I know he means it. His younger brother is in the Navy.

Why were I and the other parents at my son's private school so surprised by his choice? During World War II, the sons and daughters of the most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the idea of the immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough to go to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our children to volunteer for military service once that war was done?

Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody else defend us? What is the future of our democracy when the sons and daughters of the janitors at our elite universities are far more likely to be put in harm's way than are any of the students whose dorms their parents clean?

I feel shame because it took my son's joining the Marine Corps to make me take notice of who is defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my son is part of a future "greatest generation." As the storm clouds of war gather, at least I know that I can look the men and women in uniform in the eye. My son is one of them. He is the best I have to offer. John is my heart.

Faith is not about everything turning out OK; Faith is about being OK no matter how things turn out."

Oh, how I wish so many of our younger generations could read this article. It makes me so sad to hear the way they talk with no respect for what their fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers experienced so they can live in freedom. Freedom has been replaced with Free-Dumb

Ending the draft was a big mistake. It divided our country. The elite no longer serve and make fun of those who do serve.
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought muc... (show quote)


Freedom has never been free, it comes at an incredibly high cost, and it is disgraceful that so many Americans take a free ride at someone else's expense.

Reply
Sep 13, 2018 15:27:38   #
Capt-jack Loc: Home
 
woodguru wrote:
I think a bit more globally than who is defending me as pertains to the boots on the ground...

I look at the politics of why we are exposing soldiers and putting them in harm's way, but more often than not I'm looking at why soldiers are where they are and not that they are putting their lives in jeopardy but that someone else is jeopardizing their lives for all the wrong reasons.

Is a soldier in Syria that's defending a Conoco refinery defending the country or our country's interests? I'd say hell no, they are defending an oil company's property and revenues, and this is a place that I'd say that that oil company can pay for mercenaries, private security forces, to defend it's property. In Afghanistan do you want your son marching in poppy fields protecting opium and heroin? I have friends that knew that their mission protecting those poppy fields was pure BS, there is no way they are willing to die for that cause. One friend was saying they constantly questioned why a C-130 with cluster bombs wasn't dropped on these fields, or torch them with flame throwers.
I think a bit more globally than who is defending ... (show quote)


There is no oil in Afghanistan, our job there should only be to prevent gropes from forming another 911. We should not be rebuilding there phone system or electric grid.

Reply
 
 
Sep 13, 2018 15:35:03   #
Boo_Boo Loc: Jellystone
 
Agreed. We should just finish the job and force them to capitulate. Rebuild only if it will benefit our position. We can then bring our men and women home.

Capt-jack wrote:
There is no oil in Afghanistan, our job there should only be to prevent gropes from forming another 911. We should not be rebuilding there phone system or electric grid.

Reply
Sep 14, 2018 11:22:40   #
bahmer
 
Capt-jack wrote:
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was defending me. Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our military who has been k**led, I read his or her name very carefully. Sometimes I cry.

In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way. John was headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with straight backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I live in the Volvo-driving, higher education-worshiping North Shore of Boston I write novels for a living. I have never served in the military.

It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to Georgetown and New York University. John 's enlisting was unexpected, so deeply unsettling. I did not relish the prospect of answering the question, "So where is John going to college?" from the parents who were itching to tell me all about how their son or daughter was going to Harvard. At the private high school John attended, no other students were going into the military.

"But aren't the Marines terribly Southern?" (Says a lot about open-mindedness in the Northeast) asked one perplexed mother while standing next to me at the brunch following graduation. "What a waste, he was such a good student," said another parent. One parent (a professor at a nearby and rather famous university) spoke up at a school meeting and suggested that the school should, carefully evaluate what went wrong."

When John graduated from three months of boot camp on Parris Island, 3000 parents and friends were on the parade deck stands. We parents and our Marines not only were of many races but also were representative of many economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived crammed in the backs of pickups, others by bus. John told me that a lot of parents could not afford the trip.

We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Hispanic, Arab, and African American, and Asian. We were former Marines wearing the scars of battle or at least baseball caps emblazoned with battles' names. We were Southern w****s from Nashville and skinheads from New Jersey, black kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. We would not have been mistaken for the educated and well-heeled parents gathered on the lawns of John's private school a half-year before.

After graduation one new Marine told John, "Before I was a Marine, if I had ever seen you on my block I would've probably k**led you just because you were standing there." This was a serious statement from one of John 's good friends, a black ex-gang member from Detroit who, as John said, "would die for me now, just like I'd die for him."

My son has connected me to my country in a way that I was too selfish and insular to experience before. I feel closer to the waitress at our local diner than to some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the Corps. They are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who fixes my car asks me how John is doing, I know he means it. His younger brother is in the Navy.

Why were I and the other parents at my son's private school so surprised by his choice? During World War II, the sons and daughters of the most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the idea of the immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough to go to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our children to volunteer for military service once that war was done?

Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody else defend us? What is the future of our democracy when the sons and daughters of the janitors at our elite universities are far more likely to be put in harm's way than are any of the students whose dorms their parents clean?

I feel shame because it took my son's joining the Marine Corps to make me take notice of who is defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my son is part of a future "greatest generation." As the storm clouds of war gather, at least I know that I can look the men and women in uniform in the eye. My son is one of them. He is the best I have to offer. John is my heart.

Faith is not about everything turning out OK; Faith is about being OK no matter how things turn out."

Oh, how I wish so many of our younger generations could read this article. It makes me so sad to hear the way they talk with no respect for what their fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers experienced so they can live in freedom. Freedom has been replaced with Free-Dumb

Ending the draft was a big mistake. It divided our country. The elite no longer serve and make fun of those who do serve.
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought muc... (show quote)


Excellent article it caused my eyes to leak had a hard time typing this. Thanks for that.

Reply
Sep 14, 2018 11:24:31   #
bahmer
 
Pennylynn wrote:
I am moved.... it is not often that such an honest thread comes to OPP. First allow me welcome you to OPP and then if I may, I will add your son to my nightly prayer for his safety.
The t***h is not easy for some.... but, faith is not knowing that everything will be alright.
Faith is accepting the outcome regardless. Again, thank you and a hearty welcome to OPP.


Excellent Pennylynn thanks for those thoughts you say them so well I only wish I could write like you do.

Reply
Sep 14, 2018 20:17:55   #
Nutter Loc: Fly Over Zone
 
Capt-jack
I recently attended a small seminar put on by Jack Thurman. He tells his story of being 18 years old and was on the first wave of Marines to hit Iwo Jima. His book "We Were in the First Waves of steel Amtracs who landed on Iwo Jima." is in paperback sold on Amazon. I had the pleasure of talking with him after the seminar and the one thing that really sticks in my mind is what he told me. WE trained together, WE ate together, WE slept in the same barracks together, WE deployed in holding area of the t***sport ship together. WE talked about growing up and what WE were going to do when WE get home. This I think describes the "Band of Brothers" very well.

https://www.amazon.com/s?k=%22We+Were+in+the+First+Waves+of+steel+Amtracs+who+landed+on+Iwo+Jima.%22&i=stripbooks&ref=nb_sb_noss

Reply
 
 
Sep 14, 2018 21:35:07   #
Mike Easterday
 
Says a lot about the attitude of the way people look at each other.

Reply
If you want to reply, then register here. Registration is free and your account is created instantly, so you can post right away.
Main
OnePoliticalPlaza.com - Forum
Copyright 2012-2024 IDF International Technologies, Inc.