Every year there’s fewer and fewer of them around – the Veterans of WWII. Most of them are on the business end of 90+ and the group who served during that time just keeps getting smaller and smaller.
My guess is most of them are conservatives because they know what happens when you start taking Rights and individual liberties away from people – something the left is proud of – especially our current President.
When Barack Obama isn’t setting up barriers to stop WWII Vets from visiting memorials or allowing the VA to become so incompetant and corrupt that vets are literally dying while waiting to see a doctor, he’s defunding, destroying, emasculating and draining our troops of the assets and people they need to defend our borders.
Well one of them, Harold Estes, who died at age 97, enlisted in 1934, serving 23 years before, during and after that war, retiring as a Master Chief Boatswains Mate and ending his days in what he called a “rest home” in Hawaii had his say regarding Obama and his ilk before he left this world.
The Pearl Harbor Survivor wrote The President a letter just as Obama took off on his “apology” tour – but it not only directly applies after these eight years, it reads as if Estes could see the future: The President would show disrespect for police, the military, see life through a prism of skin color and have a general anti-American approach.
I’ll let excerpts from that letter speak for itself:
“Dear President Obama,
One of the benefits of my age, perhaps the only one, is to speak my mind, blunt and direct even to the head man.
I am amazed, angry and determined not to see my country die before I do but you seem hell bent not to grant me that wish. I can’t figure out what country you are the president of…
.. You fly around the world telling our friends and enemies despicable lies like: We’re no longer a Christian nation, America is arrogant and (Your wife even announced to the world,” America is mean-spirited. ” Please tell her to try preaching that nonsense to 23 generations of our war dead buried all over the globe who died for no other reason than to free a whole lot of strangers from tyranny and hopelessness.)
After 9/11 you said, ‘America hasn’t lived up to her ideals.’
Which ones did you mean? Was it the notion of personal liberty that 11,000 farmers and shopkeepers died for to win independence from the British? Or maybe the ideal that no man should be a slave to another man, that 500,000 men died for in the Civil War? I hope you didn’t mean the ideal 470,000 fathers, brothers, husbands, and a lot of fellas I knew personally died for in WWII..
Take a little advice from a very old geezer, young man: Shape up and start acting like an American. If you don’t, I’ll do what I can to see you get shipped out of that fancy rental on Pennsylvania Avenue . You were elected to lead not to bow, apologize and kiss the hands of murderers and corrupt leaders who still treat their people like slaves.
I realize you never served in the military and never had to defend your country with your life, but you’re the Commander-in-Chief now, son. Do your job. When your battle-hardened field General asks you for 40,000 more troops to complete the mission, give them to him. But if you’re not in this fight to win, then get out. The life of one American soldier is not worth the best political strategy you’re thinking of.
You’re not going to restore American greatness by bringing back our bloated economy. That’s not our greatest threat. Losing the heart and soul of who we are as Americans is our big fight now.
And I sure as hell don’t want to think my president is the enemy in this final battle… “
Harold B. Estes
Reading this letter inspired me to write my own letter to Obama – with a personal story of another WWII vet:
… by name of ‘Sergeant Mick’
When I was a kid I thought we lived in a crappy neighborhood. For those of you that have kids, you know how they can be envious like that. I was embarrassed and I wanted to live in a rich neighborhood with all the stuff.
I wanted stuff – Bauer Hockey skates and a Schwinn 5-speed with the baskets for my paper route. Little did I know I had everything – don’t you wish you were back in that neighborhood? I’d see my dad every morning – I got to observe him. I thought every dad got up at 5:15 and went to work. But he did and he saved and saved and worked and saved and one day he told us he finally bought something.
He made the announcement and it seemed like a big deal. We were all pretty excited and he got the family together and we drove out to the east edge of town. My father had bought a piece of land just off New York Street.
We were like, what? You bought a field? He was so proud though – him and one of his friends from the Air Force had measured it out – surveyed it and pounded small stakes in the corners and me and my sisters stood there looking at our stupid field for a while, then we all went back to our crappy neighborhood.
A few years later, right across the street from my dad’s field, they decided to build what was at the time… the biggest mall in America. And my dad sold his piece of land to a guy who was going to put condominiums on it.
So I asked my dad – are we rich yet? Because the clock’s tickin’ dude. He said not really, BUT part of the land deal he made is that we got to own one of those condominiums when they’re built. I said dad… what’s a condominium? Sounded kind of dirty – I told dad not to tell mom.
I didn’t really know what to think, but man they built those things fast and my dad brought home a brochure and showed me the condos and I was so happy. I was going to live out the rest of my childhood in a rich neighborhood and spend every day at the biggest mall in America. I couldn’t believe it. My ship had come in.
But right about that time, my grandmother had to have an operation to remove some cancer, which surprised nobody because she smoked. Man did she smoke. My dad really didn’t like her – my mom’s mom – because she smoked everywhere; at the dinner table, in the car, everyplace and she was masterful at smoking. I’d become fixated on the growing ash and how the cigarette just barely was in her mouth. I waited for it to fall in the mash potatoes but it never did. Even while she was giving us a bath, she’d be smoking…. Actually that was kind of cool.
Anyway, after she recovered from this operation, she wasn’t in very good shape. And before she was released from the hospital, my dad gave my grandmother… my condominium.
She still had cancer, but my grandmother would live out what was left of her very short life in modern splendor, in a rich neighborhood with guaranteed frequent visits from all the grandkids because she lived across the street from the biggest mall in America. And you know why my dad gave my grandmother my condominium?
My dad gave my grandmother my condominium… because that’s what you did.
She was his elder and couldn’t handle her house anymore and would have lasted about four hours in a retirement home or some other ghastly place that looks so great in the brochure. Three or four years later I turned seventeen and left my crappy neighborhood, where all my friends lived and a couple of them still do. And my grandmother died, smoking right up until the end.
That episode made a real impression on me and so a few years ago when my dad got to be a certain age, I took him in and he lived with me. I have trouble finding him things to do, and one day I asked if he wanted to come to the VA with me, where I visit and sometimes entertain veterans.
Anyone wants to know what their own care is going to be like under ObamaCare, or in the near future the socialized medicine it will morph into, you’re welcome to come with me to the VA next time, too. Disgraceful.
One of the guys we saw was Sergeant Mick, who I didn’t really know, but I had spoken to him before and he remembered me and so I felt okay calling him Sargent Mick. He’s well into his 80’s I would guess and resolved to his circumstance, not particularly sick, but not well and doing the best he could with the end of his time here in this place where no one gives a Shiite about him.
Actually, I have no idea if he had relatives or anyone else that spent time with him, because he didn’t complain and I liked Sergeant Mick.
He’s a World War II guy, and as you know there’s only one rule in the World War II Club and that is you don’t talk about World War II. These guys went over to Europe and the Pacific, Australia, the Philippines and they just fought. For years they’d be gone you’d get a letter or two perhaps. Maybe they were coming back and maybe they weren’t. There was no Sargent Mick Facebook page to Like.
I think a big difference between World War II and what’s come since then is when they were fighting that war, America was pulling out all the stops. For the most part, no one was checking to see if we were being too rough on the enemy and it might look bad on the news. There was no foregone conclusion like now where politicians have to decide how much of America’s force is appropriate when we send troops or planes. In World War II, no one was holding back anything. Men like Sargent Mick were fighting a war they weren’t really sure they were going to win.
Think about it: They would lie to get in the war and men would give up cushy and high-paid careers to go fight – even movie stars and pro athletes – and it was downright shameful to be too young or cowardly or anything else that kept you from being there. It was so brutal and men saw the most traumatizing things but they fought that back too because if they didn’t win, there might not be much of a point in even coming home.
What would you be coming home to if they lost that war? If they lost, you might even want to lay low for a while, you know?
But they fought and they won. And they came back and almost to man, they stuffed those memories away. They stuffed them away – way, way back there where nobody could ever get to them. Ever. Their wives couldn’t get to those memories and their kids damn sure never heard a word about it. Dad was in the war, that’s all. Thing is, those feelings are stuffed down there, locked away and scabbed over because those men don’t want to remember those things.
I didn’t see any of those things. I didn’t hear those things…. and I never did any of those things. But they did. And they saved us. They fought and they saved America from Tyranny. We’re so powerful now that it’s hard to even imagine. We’re fat and spoiled because of those World War II guys.
So I’m there with my dad talking with Sargent Mick a little bit about politics, when something comes over him. I thought he was getting sick, because he’s looking at me like he’s frightened. And he starts telling me this story. I can’t even tell you this story, but I’ll tell you a little:
It was night and pitch black. He was lost and had gathered with a few other soldiers, some not even in their battalion. They were out of ammunition and when they encountered the enemy all around them, Sargent Mick had to kill people – human beings – all night. He had to kill young men just like him with his gun. With the end that doesn’t fire. It was the most gruesome thing I’ve ever heard. I said Mick why did you tell me that story? He was despondent and seemed broken.
He said; ‘I’ve never told anyone that but I watch the TV and I see what they’re doing; I know what they’re doing. I went over there and fought them. Rodney I did all those things, I didn’t want to do them and now I’m sorry because I went and I fought and I did those things so they wouldn’t take our country and ruin it and now they’re doing it anyway.’
Those World War II guys saved us from Tyranny and now there he was: A grown man, crying uncontrollably. I said goodbye to Mick – he said he didn’t want to be called Sargent Mick anymore and me and my dad went home and I called my friend Pinto.
I said; “.. man, I’ve been in politics for 25 years writing speeches and columns, working for pundits and entertainers – some of you know I wrote for the Rush Limbaugh show for six years and have high-profile clients I help write books for and we work to get people elected and organized and attended hundreds of Tea Party rallies, but nothing’s helped.
We’ve been doing all this stuff trying to make a difference for 25 years and nothing’s changed. In fact, things have gotten (pardon the pun) progressively worse – much worse. What is the point? There’s no point in it..
He said; ‘what are you going to do?’
I said I’m going to Washington and I’m going to pick up where Sargent Mick left off.
Rodney Lee Conover
Thanks for indulging me.
H/T: I Have The Truth