Journal of a Left-Wing Radical:
Watching a video of historian H.W. Brands, from the U. of
Texas talking about his book on Ulysses S. Grant. He shared an interesting
question he poses to a group of 18-19 year-old students: “What would make you
go to war?” He admitted to a plethora of answers, and it made me think. Why did
I?
Know what? It was my Sainted Mother. Anyone who has observed
life at all knows how Southern boys are about their mommas. I know it figured
as high as the rigging on a topmast in my decision.
I remember standing before the Great Tidepool near Monterey,
California after a long walk from my Navy Base on the grounds of what was once
the old Del Monte Hotel. In one pocket of a Navy Peacoat, I carried a letter
instructing me how to begin an escape to Canada. In the other I carried orders
for training as a member of U.S. Naval Security Forces at Da Nang, Vietnam.
This meant I would carry a weapon for a year with the option of killing other
human beings if ordered to.
I needed to decide that day.
That’s where Sainted Mother came in. Daddy? He didn’t care.
He never thought I should have gotten involved in the military anyway, as if I
had a choice.
SM wasn’t for war, but she disliked cowardice more. I
remembered her words, “You don’t want to be like [unnamed relative]. They took
him into the Army and he bawled and squalled and wet the bed until they sent
him home.”
In the long run, I could not accept the fact that I might
not ever see a woman with that kind of American spirit again.
She won.
Why would you go to war? Might better decide today for we
are near one. The Forces of Darkness are closing in upon us fast.
I’ve decided. America took the place of Sainted Mother. Join
me.
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