On this Veterans Day, I wish I could take all the snowflakes and cupcakes crying on high school and college campuses about our new President-Elect Donald Trump and transport them to Normandy, 1944, or the jungles of Vietnam 1968. Five minutes in Hell and they would realize that they are not the center of the universe and that peacefully electing a President and peacefully transferring power is much better than the Socialist/Marxist/Communist ideology they so dearly love because they’ve been lied to by the educational system and free press of this country.
For example, they could take the place of my Grandfather, Clyde Kirkman, in this true story on the beach of Normandy:
After the initial invasion of Normandy, an amphibian carrier took Company C of the 271st to a beach to hunt and cleanup a German unit that had been giving them trouble. The amphibian unloaded them and they waded ashore. My Grandfather carried the communication gear for the unit. Once on the beach, they came under heavy fire from the Germans. The soldiers on the amphibian tried to give cover to help them out. Once on the beach they were face down in the sand. Many in Company C were killed. A shell from the amphibian exploded near my Grandfather, partially covering him with sand (I believe this was the battle that left shrapnel in his leg for the rest of his life, but he was in many so I’m not 100% sure). He stayed very still and pretended to be dead as the Germans came by finishing off the injured. Just as a German soldier started to kick him to determine if he was dead, and take off his communication gear, someone shot the German. He lay still beside the dead German for what seemed like hours until all was quiet. Realizing the amphibian was gone, he crawled on his stomach to the trees thinking he was alone where he found several other Americans hiding. They were able to radio the ship and get picked up.
Although my Grandfather was one of the older in his Company, the majority of these men were college age. They didn’t get “participation trophies” and they didn’t “hug it out”. They lived and died by their intelligence, training, determination, and dependence on one another to work together. They fought, died, and bled for ideals bigger than themselves because they wanted their children and grandchildren to grow up free and independent.
They didn’t cry because their candidate lost an election. They didn’t cry because someone said something that offended them.
They cried because their leg or arm was blown off. They cried because their buddy’s brains were blown out and his blood was all over them and in their eyes. They cried because they lay on a beach or deep in a jungle bleeding to death knowing they’d never make it home again.
Once again, as a tribute to our Veterans, we have maintained our Republic and have elected a new President. We will peacefully transfer power from one President to the next. This is nothing to cry about, it’s something to celebrate and thank the men and women who went through Hell to make it happen.
Until next time,