A Thought About Honor On Memorial Day

Let’s start with a reminder that with our own, we’re supposed to be human:

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Again:

“You tell his mom ‘He died for us, for America,’ because a funeral for a 21 year old ain’t time for real talk.” — Ryan Landry

We know it’s bullshit. Vets in electric wheelchairs know it’s bullshit. But as Ryan reminds us, time and place, folks.

I was in the U.S. Army during Bill Clinton’s first term. My enlistment included three years on active duty, overseas service, and a tour with a combat arms unit. No opportunity for big heroics crossed my path but I served well and was honorably discharged. I believed in the mission.

Today, I encounter senior military officers on a semi-regular basis. Passing them in the crowd, that sort of thing. A few days ago, I saw a U.S. Navy Captain walking with a young Ensign. The young man was attentive to rank, arrow-straight and spoke respectfully to his astronomical-scale superior. The Captain looked every inch the officer. Streaks of grey in his closely-cropped hair, grim intelligence in his voice.

Both of those men had sworn this oath, on their sacred honor:

Oath of Commissioned Officers: I, [name], having been appointed an officer in the armed forces of the United States, as indicated above in the grade of [rank] do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter; So help me God.”

The junior men and the NCOs live in a micro-matters world of accountability. The barracks have to be clean, rifles accounted for, trucks inspected, buddies looked out for. On an ordinary day, a soldier can both do his job and keep his honor… if he looks straight ahead and not at what’s around him.

But what do American military officers think about “fighting them there” while they invade us here? What about going along the emasculation of their own cadets? The obedience to degenerates like Clinton, wastrels like Bush the Lesser, or aliens like Obama? The Constitution is not defended, one hundred million vultures ravage America.

What can one officer do? We all have our jobs. My hands are tied, his hands are tied. When a Navy Captain or an Army Colonel feels that his uniform burns his skin, that his handsome bearing as an officer and a gentleman is a mockery of his ideals, what is the honorable thing to do? (President Donald Trump’s task, in my estimation, is to throw chaos into the global ruling class consensus while securing government and military factions that can strike — calling up me and you if necessary — when the time is right. Let’s be ready to do our part.)

Memorial Day is a time to remember that those who died did their job. You and I go on about our hands being tied. They believed that they were fighting for their people, even if “their people” began and ended with the hemorrhaging PFC who never made it to his own 22nd birthday.

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