Crosshairs
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Nov
11

 As a nineteen-year-old college drop out, forty years ago on this past August 18th, I was being pushed and shoved off a bus at MCRD, San Diego, California, as we ‘boots’ were trying desperately to move as fast was we could for what we were all sure was a bunch of rabid DI’s. They were after all, foaming at the mouth. With my voluntary three year enlistment, when I placed my feet upon those famous yellow footprints I had willingly entered a world of controlled chaos for the next thirteen weeks. But it was thirteen weeks of an organized, skillfully planned, detailed and time tested mayhem that were necessary to prepare me for the thirteen months of the hell on earth called Vietnam.

In the days and weeks prior to my arrival at Marine Corps boot camp in that August of 1969, an American had walked on the moon for the first time, the Manson Family had committed their evil senseless murders and five hundred thousand drugged upped Americans had partied at Woodstock. In the fifteen years prior to my arrival almost fifty thousand Americans had died in Vietnam.

At nineteen, I was a bit older than most of my fellow recruits as I had stumbled through a year of indecision before I finally did what I knew I had always intended to do. Even as a young boy I had wanted to someday be a Marine. I fully understand that most people, even when they are young, do not actively place themselves in life threatening situations. Still, as foolish as this may seem to many of you, I vividly remember sitting in my high school library during my senior year looking at the graphic pictures in Time magazine of the embattled Marines of Hue and Khe Sanh during the 1968 Tet offensive, and thinking that these were the men I wanted to join.

Besides, serving in the Armed Forces was somewhat of a family tradition, and I came from a big family. My father had been in the Navy during WW II. On the destroyer USS Shubrick, he and his shipmates were in action as one of those now famous ‘Gallant Destroyers’ at Utah Beach on D-Day, June 6, 1944. Weeks later this proud ship was once again supporting the lesser-known, but just as treacherous and important landings in Southern France. Dad was one of the few men who stayed on board his crippled ship after it had been hit by a Kamikaze during the Battle of Okinawa. Of my four older uncles of that generation, three had served in either the Army or Navy, while the fourth had been turned down for medical reasons when he tried to enlist. Of my father’s six cousins all had served in combat including a young 26 year old Marine named Harlan Tank who was killed on the bloody beaches of Iwo Jima. My three remaining younger uncles had also all served after WW II. Yet I was never pushed in that direction, in fact as the oldest son of six children in a middle class family it was unanimously understood that I should attend college. But in living among such heroes, I was divided in what everyone expected me to do and in what I believed was my duty to serve.

So it was that after high school graduation I took a summer job working with a construction company for which my father was a superintendent, proving that at times nepotism even benefits the working classes. As this was a union job I made more money as a laborer than most other eighteen year olds. I bought my first car, a white, 1962 small block 327 Chevy Impala with a red interior and a red stripe down her sides for $800 bucks, then I spent that much again tricking her out. Cruising around on those hot Illinois’ summer nights, listening to Rock ‘n Roll, well, I had it made in the shade. At the end of the summer I enrolled at Black Hawk Community College, but I was soon gone after just one disastrous, boring semester. Restless and unable to find the self-discipline it takes to advance in the academic world, and much to my parents’ dismay, I voluntarily enlisted in the Marine Corps on their delayed entry program. I then spent a couple of months working the late night shift at a factory in Moline. Two weeks before I departed I quit that job to have a little last minute fun before I shoved off for Boot Camp.

Once in boot camp my biggest fear was that I could not ‘hack it’ and would be sent home in disgrace. Those recruits who could not complete the rigorous training due to some mental or physical “malfunction” were contemptuously known as non-hackers. The result was that I placed as much pressure upon myself to succeed as my seemingly, constantly, and extremely irritated DI’s, as the thought of returning home, as a washed out, malfunctioning non-hacker, was unbearable. Many of the anti-war distracters will tell you that during this time of the Vietnam War, and the draft, that the Marine Corps was not all that particular about who got to wear their uniform since they badly needed bodies to ship off to the war. But I am here to tell you that was not the case, as more than just a few of the men who started out with our platoon did not make it to graduation.

Through the unrelenting, unforgiving, and sometimes unmentionable, process of the Marine Corps’ Boot Camp we recruits were transformed from what our deranged DI’s had so degradingly referred to us upon our arrival as “maggots” into Marines. Throughout this process we were instilled with the traditions, history and pride of what was now “Our Corps.” We had inherited a heavy responsibility in that it was now up to us to uphold these traditions and to preserve the honor of our Corps by upholding the Oath we had all been sworn to in defending our Country against all Her enemies, foreign and domestic.

To accomplish these formidable tasks we were to live by such mottos as “God, Country, Corps”, “Honor, Courage, and Commitment”, and “Semper Fidelis.” We were told that “Once a Marine, Always a Marine.” All of this fit perfectly into my young, and perhaps a bit too idealistic mind, with the words of a slain leader echoing on from years past of asking what I could do for my country, and of fighting every foe. As Marines we were now members of an elite Brotherhood and while to some extent we all had come to understand this Brotherhood through our shared experiences and hardships in boot camp, this concept of a Brotherhood would be driven home even more deeply by those of us who went on to see combat.

Upon graduation I was assigned the Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) of 0311 or Rifleman. This is more proudly referred to in the Corps as being a “Grunt.” It was also to say that I was pretty sure I had just gotten a ticket to Vietnam. But just to make it absolutely positive that a year in Nam was in my future I volunteered for the Scout/Sniper School after completing the advanced infantry training in the Infantry Training Regiment (ITR). After a month in Scout/Sniper School I now had an MOS of 0311/8541, or Grunt-Scout/Sniper. I received orders to report to the Scout/Sniper Platoon, HQ Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Marines in Da Nang, South Vietnam. I was finally going to join those brave men that I had worshiped in my childhood.

It should not be said that those of us who were on our way to Vietnam did not worry about getting killed. Going into the unknown we did have second thoughts, but we didn’t exactly dwell on it much either. For one there is always that all too human belief that bad things always happen to ‘the other guy.’ Besides as with most young men who join the Marines I was looking to get into the fight. The Marine Corps has a Warrior Tradition, every Marine is a rifleman first and foremost; in other words, men do not join the Marines unless they are willing to go to war, or at least they shouldn’t. So my biggest concern was not of living or dying, for I was too young and inexperienced to worry about all that. After all I was only nineteen, physically fit, and at nineteen you think you will live forever. Even I knew from watching the movies that you never show your buddy a picture of your Sweetheart just before you go into a fight, and you never, ever tell anyone on the eve of a battle that you have “a real bad feeling about this one.” Besides in the movies the main characters rarely, if ever, get killed off, and in each of our lives, or our own personal little movies, we are the main characters. So even though I was confident in my own abilities, one concern was the question of being able to live up to the high standards of the US military fighting men, and in particular those of the United States Marines’; centuries’ old standards which had been set extremely high by all those who had gone before.

Back in boot camp the idea was for the crazed DI’s to strip the soft, undisciplined civilian “maggots” down to their foundation, leaving only the individuals’ basic values and morality, and then through a detailed core curriculum, these same meticulous DI’s would rebuild those individuals into hard, disciplined, highly motivated Marines with a well defined set of values. In Vietnam the war once again stripped us down, only now it was to the bone. Even more so than any boot camp specialists could ever hope to achieve, war strips a man down to his soul leaving only his core values, beliefs and morality. Some men lose even those.

War breaks everything down into its simplest form. Young men who had always had some form of protection from the elements now found themselves at the mercy of nature’s most abject conditions with nowhere to seek refuge. When you are hungry, and I mean stomach rumbling, painful, I’m feeling weak hungry, whenever possible you eat whatever is available. When you are dead tired, whenever and wherever possible you sleep. And when you are thirsty, dried out and can’t spit you will drink whatever you can find.

In war you find that when it comes down to it, there is nothing more simple than choosing between life and death. So the man shooting at you is your enemy and he wants to kill you, thus he has no value and he must be killed in your stead. The man next to you is your Brother and like you, must not be allowed to die.

Once men start dying in the most gruesome ways imaginable, you realize that your own personal little movie just might have that all too tragic and abrupt ending after all. You come to understand that you are no longer fighting for Mom, apple pie, or The Flag. Gone are the more or less abstract, noble ideals of fighting for one’s freedoms and prosperity or in trying to preserve the honor of anything. For what it finally comes down to is simply survival and so what you end up fighting for is your life and the lives of your fellow Marines, while hoping and praying for the chance that all of you will live long enough to get the hell out of there. And the best way of improving that possibility is to kill as many of your enemy as you can. War at its worst is simple simplicity.

By living in such an absolute nightmare, war has a way of defining your religion. Some of us found God like never before, or again. Others lost Him completely, or blamed Him for what we humans had brought upon ourselves, or just simply abandoned all hope. But whatever is lost or remains, if you survive, it is then left up to each of us to rebuild ourselves as there are no longer any capable, highly trained and caring DI’s around with an explicit syllabus to once again show us the way back.

Throughout our lives everyone changes over time through maturity, and knowledge gained from education and life experiences. The difference in someone who has survived a war is that these changes are not allowed to progress over the usual period of time and in the natural rhythm of our controlled existence. Instead when you go to war these changes are thrust upon you in a compressed time frame while very often they arrive violently and unexpected. Often, because of your youth and inexperience, and the utter unexpected violence of the episode, you lack the necessary tools to absorb the information and experiences in a positive or un-harmful manner. You also do not have the luxuries of time to evaluate the information or anyone who can help you in that evaluation.

This metamorphosis is not a visible or conscious transformation. It is not universal in its degree or complications for every Veteran. But it is real and every combat Veteran goes through some degree of personal change. We don’t see or feel it actually happening because at the time we don’t even know that it is happening and it may even be years before we realize that it has happened at all. Basically, at the end of our trial by fire we all look the same, a bit older, always a lot thinner, more callused, but outwardly we still seem to be the same young man that first came aboard.

But I know that the boy I was who went to Vietnam is no longer with us. He had just turned twenty years old but then on one violent, hot, sunny day he was gone, and yet no one had even fired a shot. He perished just as surely as those Vietnamese civilians that were so brutally murdered that day by the VC. I know where, when, how and why that young man perished, but it took me some thirty years to come to that realization. Now those memories that he held of his younger life seem to belong to some one else, because in truth they do. I am just the keeper of those youthful memories. It was through the next eleven months in country that I became me. Like nothing before or after, the war made me who I am today and that is why Vietnam never leaves us. War is a Veteran’s defining moment, his death and rebirth, and that is what most people will never understand.

So in April 1971, after three years had passed since that innocent and naive kid sat in the United Township High School’s South Campus library looking at pictures of my Brother Marines fighting in Hue and Khe Sahn, I was sitting half way around the world on a bunker pulling guard duty the night before I was to leave Vietnam. I clearly remember my anxiety in wondering if I was going to be able to even leave as through the night sky could be seen the occasional VC rockets aimed at the Da Nang airport, from which I was soon due to depart. As part of Nixon’s new pullout strategy I had been given an early rotation date back to The World.

Without ever looking square into the eyes of a terrified Vietnamese civilian whom we had promised to defend, in never having to lay in the soaking mud, cold, frightened and miserable in an all night ambush or sitting back to back with a Brother Marine on a listening post staring into the blinding emptiness of a silent, pitch black night, without ever enduring the rain soaked, freezing monsoons, or the humid, blistering heat, in never feeling the mind shattering, abject fear of near death by an exploding incoming round, by never squeezing off a single shot at the enemy, or narrowly escaping one of their own, in never having to watch helplessly as a fellow Marine died or watching a Corpsman weep because he could not save him, and without ever having to witness the sickening aftermath of the VC’s butchery on the innocents, now Nixon, his fellow spineless politicians, and the Left’s elitists, self absorbed, anti-war groupies had had enough and were calling it quits.

After all the years of hardship, sacrifice, death and destruction, Nixon and the Left were now finally pulling defeat from the jaws of victory. A victory, that history has shown, was won by those very Marines and soldiers who had so soundly defeated the NVA and the VC in their’ all out gamble at Hue, Khe Sahn and elsewhere around that God forsaken country during the Tet Offensive in 1968. It had been a hard won victory, which was never acknowledged or announced by the American media or our politicians, but a victory all the same.

In leaving Vietnam I will always remember walking up to that big Freedom Bird in a dreamlike trance as it was almost impossible for me to believe that I was actually going home. When the plane lifted off there was a resounding cheer that went up inside that plane the likes of which I have never heard again. Yet almost as immediately as the cheer went up it was followed by what I can only describe as a long sad silence. God help me but as I sat there listening to the engines whine a strange pressure was building up so rapidly in my chest that I at once thought that I was either going to bust out of my clothes or bust out crying. Whether it was stress, sadness, joy or just plain old confusion I could not tell, but it was intense.

This plane took us to Okinawa where we would get cleaned up, change into our traveling uniforms that we had left there on the way over and then fly home. Home, I wonder how many Americans every really get to appreciate what that one simple word means?

During the war most of us went to and left Vietnam alone. There was little full unit movement after the beginning of the war until it was coming to an end. It is strange feeling going to war alone, but even stranger coming home. One night you are sitting on a bunker, locked and loaded watching VC rockets fly through the night sky then three days later you are back on the street in your hometown. I honestly don’t remember even saying one word to anyone from the time I left Vietnam until I got home to Illinois. To say the least, it is surreal.

In November 1970, about halfway through my tour, I had taken R&R to Hawaii to get married. Once there I met my soon to be wife, my younger sister and my best friend. I spent four nights and three days in the World, say hello, get married, say goodbye and then back to Nam. If coming and going to war alone was surreal, than going on R&R to get married only to once again find yourself in the middle of a war has to be phantasmagoric.

As I was rotating home early only my older sister knew I was coming home. She and her husband met me at the Moline Airport and took me to the John Deere factory in East Moline where my wife worked; she didn’t expect me home for another two months. In a scene straight out of a movie, this skinny tanned Marine wearing his winter-greens walked into an office filled with dozens of people. There way in the back sat my beautiful bride, her head down working away at her typewriter. With flowers in my hand I had to traverse the complete length of that huge office to get to her and by the time I arrived, still unnoticed by her, there wasn’t another person in that entire office who wasn’t watching. The only sounds were a few whispered murmurs from the onlookers and the tapping of my wife’s typewriter keys.

I quietly stood in front of her desk and for a moment I didn’t say a word, then I softly said, “Hi Baby” and she looked up. Without saying a word she jumped out of her chair and ran around her desk to me, we embraced, kissed, and embraced some more, then she started to cry as her co-workers applauded and cheered. We then left to surprise my parents and brothers and sisters.

I have often thought of how no matter what many of those strangers in that office may have felt about the Vietnam War, I would have to bet that all of them still remember that day when a Marine came home from Vietnam.

Now I’m not telling you this because I hope you will all think that this is somehow special, or that I am. I am certainly not special although this little movie is special to me because it is mine, I’m the leading man, and it’s the only one I get to make in this life.

I am telling this story because it is so similar to millions of other stories when young men have gone off to war and then returned. The names are different, as are many of the minor details, but our feelings and experiences are all very much the same. I wanted you all to know that those of us who are Veterans are not what many in our society would lead you to believe. We are Veterans, not criminals or murderers. We were the boys who lived next door. We were the young kids who cut your neighbors’ grass, shoveled their snow and delivered your newspapers. We took your daughters and sisters to the dance and played baseball with your sons and brothers. Then one day we found ourselves in a very different world, but we never lost our identity or forgot who we were, America’s sons.

The word nobility is hardly used anymore, and when it is it is usually inappropriately used to describe some lifetime politician. But whenever I think of my fellow Veterans, and because of the bitter criticism of the Vietnam War, in particular those Vietnam Veterans, the word noble always come to mind. Veterans don’t get to pick the fight, or even start it. Politicians always do that. Plain and simple a Veteran’s job is to end the fight by winning it, whether people agree or not that we should even be fighting. Wherever America has fought someone’s freedoms have been at stake.

As I stated earlier once in the fight everything is reduced to its simplest form. But at one time prior to that point a Veteran had to pick up the gauntlet and enter the fray while believing in the cause. To do that while knowingly putting your life on the line for someone else’s freedoms is noble. It doesn’t matter what the critics say while bloviating in their safety on other side of the world, or what the historians will someday explain as to the whys and wherefores of the conflict. By taking up the banner of freedom Veterans are the noblest men I know. Veterans also understand that the Oath to protect our country from all enemies, foreign and domestic, that we were sworn to has no expiration date.

In the past forty years since coming home I have had a lot of time to reflect about my experiences and youthful decisions. Not to mention that way back as a nineteen-year-old “maggot” the idea of being a fifty-nine year-old man was as remote to me as what it would have been like to be Armstrong walking on the Moon.

In the Corps, it is firmly held that upon graduation you automatically become a Marine. It is also true that Once A Marine, Always A Marine, because it never really leaves you. But I understand now that upon graduation, while you have certainly earned the right to be called a Marine, in or out of the Corps, being a Marine is a lifelong endeavor. That living up to the high standards set by the Marine Corps on a daily basis is a lot more difficult than shooting at someone, or even being shot at. Many of us fail at one time or another, but it is only then that we can show what we are really made of by picking ourselves up and continuing on, all the while trying to become a better person, father, husband, Marine.

At this past anniversary of Woodstock we were once again reminded that it was the defining moment of the 60′s generation. But that is simply not true as Vietnam defined my generation more than any single weekend. And although I have never taken illegal drugs, I truly believe that no hippie Woodstock acid trip could have been half as surrealistic as my lonely trips to and from Vietnam or as fantastically illusory as that hell to paradise then back to hell fantasy of my R&R marriage in Hawaii.

Currently there are 58,256 Americans names on the Vietnam War Memorial, and we are still adding names. So please don’t try to tell me that Woodstock was the defining moment of my generation.

During the war I saw things that would have made the most hardened drug crazed Manson Family member cringe with disgust. Forty years later these images still give me some sleepless nights. It would be wrong for me not to tell you that at times I do wonder what my life would be like if I had not gone to war. I would hope that my bouts of depression would not be so severe, or that this anger inside me would have never materialized. Sometimes I imagine what it must be like to go somewhere and not feel the anxiety or fear that something bad is going to happen, even if it was just that little drive to take my granddaughter to school. I wish that I could feel the joy that others seem to, for some reason I can easily hit all the low points but those high happy points elude me. It is also during these times that I mourn the loss of that kid I once knew.

But this daydreaming only last a little while and they are coming more and more rare. I have resigned myself to the fact that my life is what I made it and I realize that there are many reasons that if I had it to do over again I would do the same as before. For one this is who I am. For another I cannot imagine not belonging to the Marine Brotherhood. Such an honored fraternity must surely have a dear admission price to be so special.

But most of all what it always comes down to in answering the question of if I would do it all again, my answer is always the same.

How could I not, for once I walked among Heroes.

How few others can say the same.

Have A Great Veterans’ Day

Pray For and Support Our Troops

God Bless America

Semper Fi,
Mike

“Copyright 2009.  Michael E. Tank   All rights reserved. No part of this document may be copied, faxed, electronically transmitted, or in any other manner duplicated without express written permission of the author.”

Nov
10

A recent poll has shown that only 20% of our citizens consider themselves as being Liberal. In realizing that perhaps only a single digit percentage of these Liberals would consider themselves on the Far Left, how can we now find ourselves being governed by the most liberal administration and Congress in our 233-year old history?

In the past fifty years we Americans have seen our prosperities, Liberties, Freedoms and Individual Rights being slowly chipped away in the name of progress, our own supposed personal safety, and the falsehoods of the overall welfare of our society and the environment. As we stand today the Conservative and Moderate majorities are on the verge of seeing our sacred Constitution become just another long ago written document that serves no other purpose but as an historical curiosity.

So how, in a country of over 300 million citizens, could we allow this only 20% to force their will upon the majority of us when their beliefs and agendas are so different from ours?

Well we have heard the old expression, “The squeaky wheel gets the grease”, and just like that old noisy, annoying and dangerous Liberal Wheel, the Liberals in our country have continued to squeak, cry, moan and manipulate at every turn and intersection, all the way down our history highway, until basically in this last election a majority of us just finally gave in, pulled over, and said okay do what you want, just give the rest of us some peace. But now instead of getting some peace and quiet, we are about to be replaced all around by a whole new set of Liberal Radials… I mean, Liberal Radicals, with a front-end alignment that is steering our Nation straight to the point of no return.

This Liberal, or Leftist movement has been in America for a very long time. But it usually takes hard times for Liberals to gain power and influence in America, and early in the 20th Century there were plenty of hard times for all Americans. That’s why whenever there are problems you will hear Liberals quickly decry that we are in the midst of a “crisis!” While they are seemingly trying to help to get us all out of that crisis what they are really hoping for, and helping to accomplish, is that the crisis escalates and our troubles continue. So in the times of economic downturns, instead of the common sense solutions in boosting the economy through individual spending and investments encouraged by tax cuts, we get bailouts, government takeovers, government subsidized work programs that generate no new national products or long term gains, and a bogus stimulus bill all paid for by the taxpayers and resulting in even more economic stifling tax increases to pay for it all. Any “new jobs” that are created by these Liberal policies are mostly in the form of even more bureaucracy through bigger government.

Back at the beginning of the 20th Century Liberals were instrumental in the labor movement, only they were a bit more quiet and reserved about their dealings then they would be in the future. The Left usually uses a good, just, or humanitarian cause to gain power and control. So we have seen them hijack such noble causes as labor reform, civil rights, poverty, environmental concerns and health care then taking them to most extremist levels. But while claiming only self-righteous concern for all our citizens what we have witnessed is that their real and only concerns are for the power over and the total control of our citizens, our economy and our Nation.

In the labor practices of that time there was plenty of room for improvements for the working class when it came to working conditions and wages. The Left helped to organize and unite the working class to get better pay and conditions, but that was all just an end to the means of obtaining the power and influence that the Left was really seeking. The working class meant nothing more to the Liberals of that day than you and I mean to the Liberals of today, we were and are just tools to be used for their gain.

Through the ensuing years Liberals worked quietly as they infiltrated our political systems, our educational system, society and perhaps most importantly, our entertainment, media and press. Soon after WW II the Liberal agenda was in full swing across America but nowhere was it more effective than in our educational institutions. By the Sixties, they had changed our history by teaching our children a dark and sinister view of our native country. On college campuses Madison and Jefferson gave way to the teachings of Marx and Mao. Campus activists like Obama and Hillary Clinton followed the community organizing lessons of Alinsky. Until finally, with the continued war in Vietnam and the civil rights movement as their rallying call, Liberals came out of their closets.

Liberals, or The Left, became increasingly more vocal, disruptive and violent during the Vietnam War. You can be sure that in the 1960′s there was no where near 20% of our population that said they were Liberals, yet this even smaller political minority of that time was so disruptive, insistent and shrill that they managed to change the way our country conducted the Vietnam War. In fact this Liberal minority and their representatives in the mainstream media were responsible in ending that war. I wonder how many of us fully understand just how few in number this small but vocal and highly visible minority of protesters really was? Yet highlighted, if not out right exaggerated by an already Left leaning mass media, this microscopic but noisy squeaky wheel of our society certainly got all of the attention.

However, Liberals did not do this all by themselves, as just like this last election the Left needed non-Liberal crossovers to attain their goals. I will always believe that the majority of young men who participated in the anti-war/anti-draft demonstrations of that era joined these protests for one of four differing reasons.

1) A few may have actually believed the war was unjust.
2) A few did not want to be drafted. And very few when you understand just how few men were actually drafted and how even fewer draftees ended up in Vietnam.
3) Boredom.
4) To meet chicks.

But to fully succeed Liberals not only needed the Silent Majority to remain silent, but also to remain unresponsive to any and all trespasses and crimes committed during these often unlawful demonstrations and assaults upon our Republic. Free speech and the right to assemble are guaranteed, but violence, destruction of property, invading and occupying private and public buildings while taking hostages and refusing to be legally inducted into the Armed Forces during a war are not. Needless to say treason is at least still on the books as a crime, yet no one in this movement who committed such treason was ever charged let alone brought to justice.

Once again the Left had chosen what seemed a noble cause by insisting that their infuriation was the result of the loss of human life of both Southeast Asian civilians and our military. Yet while working towards and hoping for our own country’s defeat, these two faced protesters feigned remorse and anger concerning our own war dead out of one side of their crooked mouths, as they continued to falsely vilify our military out of the other side, even long after the war had ended. And in the end, what was once again displayed was that their humanitarian ideals where only a false cover for their true ambitions, for what has echoed the loudest over these past years since the US pulled its support and troops out of Vietnam is the total silence of the Liberal Left’s protests of the slaughter of millions of Southeast Asian lives, and the enslavement of millions more, when their Communist heroes overran what we were once trying to defend.

Emboldened by their success during the Vietnam era Liberals now marched boldly forward for the next forty years disparaging everything American along the way. Once they saw that not only would there be no consequences for their treason and anarchy they understood that there was no further need to hide their affiliations or sympathies, or to curtail their outrageous complaints and attacks, for the Silent Majority was not just silent, it was comatose. Draft dodgers were given amnesty and allowed to return home without fear of prosecution. Most all of the protesters moved on to become leading citizens in their community not only without repercussions for their frequently criminal ant-war demonstrations but in fact were often held in high esteem for their misconduct. High profile anti-American leaders of the era were not punished or rebuked for their treason, but instead many, like Fonda and Kerry, were grandly rewarded by our society. Finding little or no resistance, and very few consequences, in the post Vietnam War America, the Liberal agenda shifted into high gear.

As it turned out, America not only greased that Liberal squeaky wheel through appeasement, we also generally ignored it in the faint hope that it would just go away. But in doing so we only insured that the Liberal Left was here to stay.

Next: Part Two – How The Left Took Over America

God Bless America

Semper Fi,
Mike

“Copyright 2009.  Michael E. Tank   All rights reserved. No part of this document may be copied, faxed, electronically transmitted, or in any other manner duplicated without express written permission of the author.”

Nov
03

You really have to hand it to Liberals when it comes to picking conspiracies. They do have some doozies. Yet they think that theirs are intellectual and legitimate while any that Conservatives come up with are loony. Liberals also have a certain unsavory predilection for handing out insulting, and all too often vulgar, names to those of us who think against their grain. When dealing with these far Left conspiracies we must always remember; while Conservatives think, Liberals ‘feel.’

For example look at how the Liberals ‘feel’ about Hurricane Katrina:

Liberals feel that they are being intellectually scientific when they say that the Bush administration was responsible for an unnatural increase of hurricane activity and the heightened severity of these hurricanes during his administration. They will look you straight in the eye and tell you that Bush ordered the US Navy to destroy the levees of a US city, New Orleans. I believe they claim that it was the battleship Iowa that was doing most the dirty work. Then they complain that the ridiculously bureaucratic FEMA’s slow response was all due to racism by the Bush administration. It would be totally ridiculous and impossible for a President to do what these Liberals ‘feel’ he has done, but then being ridiculous is an inalienable right for Liberals.

To Liberals it doesn’t matter that hurricanes have historically followed a natural pattern of increasing and decreasing activities, or that such hurricanes also historically follow a natural pattern in the increasing and decreasing of their strength and severity. That’s just too much science, and every Liberal knows that Bush hated science so much that he outlawed it during his administration.

Apparently Liberals know nothing about being on a ship in the midst of a hurricane or typhoon. One of the few stories my father related to me about his days in WW II was of being caught in that infamous typhoon off the Japanese Islands in the spring of 1945 and of how his destroyer just missed by a few degrees from being rolled over. Our Navy lost a lot of good ships and brave men in that typhoon but Liberals may have never heard of such a thing so perhaps they don’t realize how dangerous the high winds and waves of a typhoon or hurricane can be to a ship at sea. Still, according to Liberals there were our Navy’s ships out in that violent storm just off the Louisiana coast during Hurricane Katrina bombarding the city.

Liberals also must not have a clue about windage and elevation when it comes to shooting guns. Be it BB guns to the big guns on battleships, wind, rain, temperature and the weather in general all affect where the rounds end up. In a hurricane it must be near impossible to hit anything, especially levees that are miles away and that are being fired at by ships in distress. Liberals could learn about how weather affects the accuracy of a round, big or small, like I did in the Marine Corps. But then if they are not so inclined to enlist for a few years perhaps they could just watch the movie ‘Sergeant York.’

If Conservatives are dealing with minorities then as far as Liberals are concerned everything comes down to race. Minorities don’t even cry racism as much as Liberals. Concerning FEMA during Katrina, for Liberals the overbearing bureaucracy and overwhelming logistics had nothing to do with FEMA’s slow response, for FEMA’s late arrival was all due to Bush’s supposed racism.

Other Liberal conspiracies say that Bush knew about the attacks of 9-11 before they happened. Or Liberals even believe that the Bush administration was behind the attacks and that he ordered the deaths of over 3000 people so that he could attack Iraq. Then there’s the one where Osama bin Laden is actually a CIA operative who was given the go ahead by Americans to kill Americans. Of course these theories are utterly absurd but that doesn’t stop the Libbies from demanding investigations.

When it comes to their Global Warming conspiracy for some reason Liberals are not even as smart as the first cavemen. Even cavemen knew that when the Sun came up the Earth got hotter and when the Sun went down the Earth cooled off. I mean it’s like the difference between night and day! Yet Liberals now disregard the natural influence of the Sun and its historical surface changes that affect the ever so slight fluctuations of the Earth’s temperatures, such as increasing and decreasing sun spot activities, resulting in the natural and non-fatal influence upon the Earth. Instead Liberals choose to believe that the Earth is getting hotter because earthworms and cows flatulent too much and so to save the Earth all non-Liberal humans need to stop breathing.

Liberals also believe that America faked the Moon landings and that fifty years of space exploration has all been conducted in a New Mexico barn.

These are all Liberal causes that any sane person finds absurd and annoying. Yet Liberals think that they hold the intellectual high ground so when American taxpayers show up at Town Hall Meetings to protest the dangerous Congressional spending they are ridiculed as being uncivil and are referred to in such derogatory terms as the Mob, Racists and Nazis.

Again when other American Patriots protest the insane Liberal spending policies of our government, Liberals claim that these Tea Parties are Astroturf movements generated by Fox News and other far rightwing organizations. The participants are labeled as racists, lunatics, Nazis and fools. In displaying their penchant for vulgarity and to villainously mock their fellow countrymen Liberals use a homosexual slang term for an obscene sex act by calling these upset taxpayers, Teabaggers, how clever.

Likewise Liberals believe that anyone who does not approve of Obama and his policies are racists. Therefore they must also ‘feel’ that the only reason Obama did not get 100% of the vote in the last election is because America is such a racist nation!

Liberals believe that Fox News is a biased rightwing conspiracy designed to ruin Obama, his administration, agenda and reputation, but feel that the unashamed, biased bootlicking at MSNBC is just honest, unbiased journalism.

And while Liberals can unabashedly claim that President Bush attacked US cities and murdered US citizens, they declare the complete insanity of the Americans who are simply demanding to see a sitting President’s birth certificate proving that he is rightly a natural born citizen of the United States as required by the Constitution. These Patriots are mockingly referred to by Liberals as “birthers” and how dare they even question the constitutional legality of their Chosen One!

Imagine a man comes home from a hard day at the office and his wife immediately meets him at the front door. She is all decked out in a beautiful black and red evening dress with shimmering black pumps and is wearing a diamond necklace with matching earrings.

“Honey,” she says sweetly. “Tonight you are going to keep your promise and take me to that Broadway Show and out to dinner.”

“Ah…ah…” The man mumbles while wishing he had brought his Teleprompters home with him. “I’m afraid… ah… we can’t… ah… do that… ah… we… ah… don’t… ah… have the… ah…ah… money.”

“What are you talking about,” she fires back. “Of course we do, wait a minute… Barry! What have you been up to?”

“Well… ah… you see Baby… ah… it’s those…ah… those damn birthers… ah… they just… ah… won’t leave me alone… ah… ah… ah… oh hell… ah… I just spent 1.7 million to… ah… keep my… ah… birth certificate hidden… ah…so …ah… there. But… ah… Baby… ah… I did it for you Baby… ah…”

“Well, we’re goin’ so you call your office and tell them that tonight’s on the US taxpayers… but we’re goin’!”

“Ah… yes… ah… sir… ah… Baby.” He replies as he picks up the phone, “Hello Rahm…”

And therein lies my biggest problem with your president’s refusal to produce his original birth certificate.

Why on Earth would anybody spend 1.7 million dollars, and climbing, to hide his birth certificate if it truly does prove that he is a natural born US citizen and is eligible to hold the office of President of The United States? Well, they wouldn’t so why is Obama withholding his? As it stands now the only two things that are increasing more than Barry’s B.C. legal fees are the national deficit and the unemployment rate.

If Obama was really born in Hawaii his actions of hiding a legitimate US birth certificate defies all logic. Likewise in a time of financial crisis for the rest of us his wasting of 1.7 million to hide what millions of other Americans must produce on a daily basis on demand by a hundred different government agencies, and for a lot less important issues than being the President, is fiscally appalling to those of us just trying to meet the rent.

His refusal to follow through with his repeated promises of an administration of unequaled “transparency” would be laughable if it didn’t display his galling arrogance and his utter distain towards the American people. Don’t the citizens of this country have the right to know that their President was actually born here? Well…yes we do, so what’s the problem Junior?

Financially the Obama’s are not hurting but by no means are they to be considered rich. Besides no matter how rich he might be, no sane man wastes 1.7 million to hide his legitimate US birth certificate unless there is a very good reason why he does not want it to be shown. If in some future date he produces this document showing that he was actually born in Hawaii and then gives some lame excuse for not showing it before he spent millions to hide it, then every American who has been unemployed or going without because of our depressed economy should get a chance to kick his butt.

Here’s a thought; perhaps Obama was given the Nobel Peace Prize as a way for the Nobel Committee to donate the 1.5 million check that goes along with it to Junior’s birth certificate legal fees? Makes more sense than anything else I’ve heard of why this no-show won it.

Liberals will tell you that he has given us a B.C. but that is not true. What he has given us is a simple form from Hawaii that simply states he is alive. My son got the same thing for his daughter when he received custody of her in Hawaii. It took him twenty minutes at Public Records and cost ten bucks, twenty if you include the outrageous Honolulu parking fees. He needed it to insure that his daughter could leave the state without any hassles and his ex wouldn’t give up the hospital B.C. So what Barry has given as proof of his citizenship is a ten-dollar live birth declaration and 1.7 million in lawyers’ fees. Maybe that’s part of Barry’s back to work plan, by keeping a few more lawyers busy with this simple nonsense.

There are all other kinds of problems with this B. C. issue, like were his parents married or not at the time of his birth. Did Junior give up his US citizenship when he became Barry Soetoro? His paternal grandmother swears that she was present in Kenya when young B. H. O. Jr. was born and there is a plaque in the Kenyan hospital commemorating his birth there.

One of the most intriguing issues of Junior’s citizenship concerns his world travels as a young man with a passport of unknown announced citizenship. Like his school records and transcripts, that passport information apparently didn’t fall under Obama’s promise of transparency either. Besides not knowing how a struggling twenty-year old student like Barry Jr. could afford such an extended trip abroad, during this trip in 1981 he also traveled to Pakistan when no US citizens were allowed to enter Pakistan by the United States’ government. Oh please explain to me how the Magic One managed such a James Bondian feat, birther bashers. Inquiring minds want to know!

Personally I have never owned a passport as all of my International travel was arranged through the famous Marine Corps’ Travel Agency. That has some disadvantages like you don’t really get to choose where they are sending you. However, one huge advantage is that not only are you required to carry a weapon upon arrival, you get to use it. But even then you have to produce a birth certificate way back in the beginning of this process at that bastion of truth and confidentiality, the recruiter’s office. The Marine Corps’ Travel Agency could have gotten my Brothers and I into Pakistan in 1981, if the need had arisen, but Barry wasn’t in that same position, so how did he get into Pakistan as a US citizen? Maybe he crossed into Pakistan at the Afghani border disguised as a Taliban refugee? That would help to explain some of those pictures of his trip.

By the way, just about anyone can get a copy of my service records, so why can’t a judge get a copy of Barry’s birth certificate?

Liberals will also tell you that if the birth certificate was really a problem that the Democrats and their media would have found out about it when they vetted him. But that’s a joke right? I mean everybody knows that the Dems and their lapdog media never even came close to vetting this guy; they made a lot of excuses for him though. Too bad the voters didn’t vet him either.

Next the Libs tell us that if this issue really was a problem that certainly the Republicans would have used it against Obama in the last election. And if not the Republicans then Hillary sure would have brought it up. But the trouble with this lame excuse is that the Hill Pill and the McCain campaign did mention this birth certificate issue. The results were an immediate superficial cry of racism by the Liberals, the Obama campaign and their adoring press so everybody dropped it quicker than Henry Gates can bad mouth a White cops Mama!

Lastly Liberals will point out how judges all over the country are throwing out these cases to get Obama’s B.C. made public as proof that there is nothing to the conspiracy. Wrong, judges throw out rightful cases on legal technicalities everyday, and most of these cases have been dismissed because of some technicality.

The latest judge to throw out a B.C. case was a Clinton appointee, in California no less, so two strikes against the challengers right there, on the grounds that no court could rule on a the legitimacy of a sitting president, strike three. The fact that this judge so violently condemned the ‘birthers’ only points out where his already obvious sympathies lies. It has also been stated that the Hawaiian Republican Governor has sealed Obama’s hospital birth certificate. So what? To be the first Republican Governor in the ultra liberal state of Hawaii in forty-eight years you can bet she is at the most a Centralist. Besides the Governor is simply obeying Hawaiian law that states only Obama, his descendants or a person with a court order can get a copy of Obama’s birth certificate. Plus orders from the White House must be obeyed by a Governor in Hawaii just like they must be obeyed by… oh let’s say, a Commanding General in Afghanistan. Neither order is pleasant to follow as one has to hide something and the other must put his troops’ safety at risk and wait, and wait, and wait, and…

It’s Chicago politics folks and the mere fact that Barry, Jr. has spent so much money to hide what the Liberals claim is a document proving Junior is a natural born US citizen only adds credence to the belief that he is not. Liberals think that those among us who want prove that Obama is a natural born US citizen, as our Constitution requires, are a joke. But Obama talking about truth, honesty, transparency and “an end to the old ways of Washington politics” are the only jokes in this issue, not the “birthers.”

Show Us The Birth Certificate!

God Bless America

Semper Fi,
Mike

 

“Copyright 2009.  Michael E. Tank   All rights reserved. No part of this document may be copied, faxed, electronically transmitted, or in any other manner duplicated without express written permission of the author.”

 

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