I remembered what I forgot and I should be ashamed for being so thoughtless.

My military career began in Camp Hood and Fort Hood, depending on what phase of training we were undertaking. It was a long time ago and so one tends to forget why he was there and what he was supposed to stand for and why being trained was a life or death matter as concerned the welfare of my nation.

And so I'm reminded it was about country and about salvaging our freedoms that were absolutely threatened by foreign powers. It was about representing my kinfolk who were too old or too young or otherwise unable to perform the tasks. It was about the high school that molded me after my family life dissolved with the death of my mother while in tenth grade. It was about the sweet little gals, my schoolmates, dancing around the big maypole when we sponored our schools big may fesitaval each year. It was about a teacher name Mister Morton (note the 'mister') who, a veteran of WW1, stewed and fretted each day as he saw his students depart to another war to end all wars that he probably already figured would be nothing of the kind. It was about all of my forefathers who took up whatever cause came along long before I was born and sallied forth to make a mark on history. It was about the little white Methodist church a mile away from our old farmstead and the one-roomed country school house where I tackled the three "R's". It was about the pride that swelled within my bosom when my unit finally passed in review at Hood, heading for our point of embarkation overseas and the delay-enroute home for a few days on the way to Fort Ord to touch base with what family remained.

Yes, I should be ashamed. There was a purpose in my life and my nation relied on me to answer its call to duty and I went and I was proud and I wonder what went wrong with the perfection I saw back then that seems to have faded away in recent time. Perhaps we just think that perfection has vanished. Maybe it's still lurking around the corner just waiting for all of us to pickup the guideon and fall into line again to show our respect. I like that thought.

So, what more reason do I need to stop hounding that big uncle of mine who it always seemed did right by me? I still think he's the cat's pajamas and he's the only relative I still have from those days of yore. They're all gone. But Sam and me, well, we've got a lot in common I'd forgotten and I intend to nudge my memory from time to time as a reminder that all is not lost in the U. S. of A., not by a long shot. Sam will most likely outlive the lot of us and more power to him.

Gramps

Well, I don't think you can thank me Gramps it was years ago that I passed through there with dad and family. Like you say, it was a three street town somewhere between Dallas and Austin right below Waco. Then there was Temple, Cooperscove and Belton Dam where I caught the biggest bass ever in my life on a lure. Fortunately I met some of the local business men who lived off the Camp, Post, Fort hood reservation. To me it seemed a kinky and odd arrangement where Killeen people went aboard base to high school.

It was here that a twelfth grader punched me on my arm and asked me, "What religion are you?" I replied that I didn't have a religion and he went on to say, "Well, get one by tomorrow." Hahahahahahaha

I recall laying on the living room floor doing my home work that night and glancing up at mom, who stood at the kitchen window dressed to the hilt wearing her white apron, black dress, stockings and hills. What a figure of a woman she was back then and is still.

I could not tell her what had happened on the bus for she would have whipped me with her favorite switch, which usually lay across the refrigerator, almost always drawing blood! You see, mom was more militant than dad was. She was almost unforgiving once her mitts gripped that switch. She would not tolerate listening to me complain about some 'bigger guy' picking on me for she and grandpa, from her side, had trained me to never give up and to fight. So I remained silent with that unanswered question buried deep inside. Later, way later, after Viet Nam I came back to examine religion and I'm glad that I did.

Dad was always pushing professionalism and mom wanted someone to work the ranch her younger brothers took care of. Little ole me was torn between the two.

Yes Gramps, I too, had the same 'gung ho' attitude and joined the Marines before Viet Nam. In fact, we were traversing Cuban waters thinking we were going to land and end that communist regime. On week-ends I spent extra time running up the fire break South of Camp Las Pulgas on Camp Pendleton. Then I got ready and went into Oceanside, or San Clemente where I would meet up with my fire team for a movie or a walk on the pier. No one pushed me into the Corps, and I too, expected my officers were on the ball, and I even wrote LBJ thanking him for allowing me to be among the first combat Marines to serve in Viet Nam. I got a reply in post card format thinking me as we pushed across the Pacific on the back of the USS Valley Forge.

Between my military family upbringing and my military experience you would expect me to be so patriotic that not one terse word would leave my mouth, and really I don't have to say a thing as you see it unfolding before your eyes, do I? There is a time to be stupid and at some time down the road a time to question. I always served my country never asking "why" just as dad had taught me. His favorite saying was, "Do the job first then bitch." I did my job not once but twice, and now I should be able to bitch thank you.

Seasoldier/

Both of you are right on this one.You can be proud of your Country,but still complain about the Leaders who lead us astray with their own agenda's.

Both of you,along with millions of others earned that right and don't you ever forget that! Love of Country is not the same as love of leaders we disagree with. They are just figureheads for a short period of time and are soon forgotten.Our Country is a different story.

Some may think me insensitive, some may think me unpatriotic! I was not drafted for service, but joined of my own free will. I went to war under the false pretenses that my service would protect Americans from Communism. At first, I believed my superiors as they did theirs, then the truth worked its way out ever so slowly leaving me and many others with a bad taste in our mouth for leaders who lie on behalf of Wall Street.

No one told me about Bush aiding the enemy in WWII. No one said here, read "WAR IS A RACKET" by Major General Smedley D. Butler. In fact he was not included in our X1 and X2 history facts about the Marine Corps prior to WWII. In fact, no one told me, nor did I think about, the Confederate Marines, Sailors, and soldiers during the lead up to the CIVIL WAR! None of the factors that would lead to good comprehension of what we were joining ever came to light. All the dirty little secrets were, since infancy, taught in our public school brainwashing classes. The real dirty truths were never discussed or brought up guaranteed by federal oversight--federal control of the local schools--federal funding, which is wrong, wrong, wrong!

I spend my time uselessly arguing points where I see my country doing wrong only to practice keyboard skills. No one is open to common sense or reasoning any longer, and that's why we never get anywhere. All I heard from recruiters was "You are fighting for your rights!" How does killing people on the other side of the world affect my rights?

So misled, and so lied too, our military is coming unglued. Oh yes, ignorant soldiers will not question their superiors, nor recall the oath they were sworn in with until late in their lives. Yes, I have a nasty taste, but can anyone blame me and many others who see these great contradictions?

I've resorted to taking care of self and not being to concerned about foreign countries, because if you look hard enough you will find Wall Streets' dirty actions, well known by each prevailing administration at the time. Of each of these BREACH OF CONSTITUTION ACTS we become weaker. Stand up Americans and learn what awaits you.

Seasoldier/