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“THE REASON FOR MY SERVICE”
by OPOVV, ©2020
(May 21, 2020) — So I was sitting at the same table in the chow hall at the Navy base at Yokosuka, Japan, reading the Stars and Stripes — just as I had been for the past week — when this Marine Gunnery Sergeant walks up and asks if I was going to waste another day just doing nothing or…sure, why not? I mean, I was waiting for a ride to Subic so what else was there to do?
He said, “I’ve been watching you and I don’t believe you’ve said two words since you got here, and I like that, so I’ll teach you a few tricks to stay alive, if you’re willing to listen.” And that’s how I learned to defend myself in an all-out-attack kind of way. And so for the next few weeks, starting at sunrise, he had me running all over that base, and then in the afternoon it was in a warehouse learning his version of Judo.
Let me tell you something about his version of Judo: ‘Eyes, they have to protect the eyes.” Anyway, that was the gist of it, so a couple of months later I was in Hong Kong walking back from a day at the United States Embassy to the Hilton when I was ambushed by two guys, and before I knew it there was a knife at my throat. It took about as long for me to finish them off as it took for you to read about it.
Having a knife at my throat was one of the intense moments of my life, and as it was going down I was remembering the moment when that Gunnery asked me if I was going to waste another day. That got me to thinking how many actual bullets flew past me; I know for a fact there was one because I was talking to some dude and he got one – a bullet – right in the head; he didn’t even finish his sentence which, as I recall thinking, was pretty rude of him, or was it rude of the trigger person? It was one or the other, of that I’m sure.
Funny how time distorts the memory, because I was sure we were talking about cars, and the picture I had a few years ago was one of a white ’58 Chevy convertible, but now I’m thinking maybe it was a red ’60-’62 Chevy two-door hardtop. I remember that I was looking at him as he was shot, but for the life of me I can’t recall the color of the car he was talking about. Look, I know you don’t care and, come to think of it, I don’t care, either, but for some reason I used to think it was important.
“The House of the Rising Sun” (2:54)
Which brings us to the here and to the now. Time is sure one slippery character, I’ll hand him that. After the knife incident I returned to the hotel and, as the adrenaline rush was wearing off, I told the Lord that I’d quit drinking and mend my ways, and wasn’t I surprised when He gave me a second chance* to keep my word. Anyway, I was thinking about my time in the military and what I had to go through to survive, and wasn’t I lucky not to have served in Borneo during World War II or on the beaches of Normandy, D-Day, 1944?
So you have to ask yourself what was the monumental effort for from me or any other survivor serving his country, or from the ones who didn’t make it? One would hope there was a reason, wouldn’t you think? We have to believe there was a reason why so many suffered and died to afford us the opportunity to offer our ballot to be counted fairly and honestly, as it is spelled out in the Constitution.
We understand that only citizens in good standing can vote; that each registered voter has one vote and one vote only; and there are no conceivable extenuating circumstances in which to alter that fact. It was the reason for my service in the first place, why I volunteered; it is the concept for which I took the Oath; and it is the underlying principle in which a Patriot is defined: a defender of the Constitution from enemies both foreign and domestic.
Let me state, here and now, in front of God and country, that I will treat anybody who shoots a bullet at me, and that includes anyone who falsifies ballots, as someone who is trying to kill me and, therefore, I have the right to defend myself in order to protect my country from those who wish to trash our Constitution.
For me to make something of my time in the military, my service didn’t end on my separation from active duty or upon my Honorable Discharge, for my Oath didn’t come with an expiration date, nor did anyone else’s.
Today’s mainstream media makes it abundantly apparent why the Draft should be reinstated for every American citizen, because without it we got more than THREE STRAIGHT YEARS OF THE RUSSIAN COLLUSION HOAX. And we can certainly speculate which TV personalities would receive Dishonorable Discharges. Although that’s certainly not any guarantee that we still wouldn’t have heated debates, one would hope they would be debates over sensible topics and not wear-it-on-your-sleeve Morning Joe pabulum.
In conclusion, if mail-in voting is allowed; if voter I.D. isn’t required; and if the non-vetted are allowed to cast a ballot or two, then we will have lost our country to those who would wish to replace the Constitution with something resembling The Fuehrer Oath, with the accompanying destruction, so all we’re left with is a land of rubble inhabited with rats, just like today’s Venezuela.
It is incumbent that we protect our land from the likes of the Department of Homeland Security and any other government agency that wishes for our country to be destroyed. There is not one Muslim who is in our country to become assimilated and embrace our Constitution that affords equal rights for women. There is not one illegal immigrant who respects our laws, and the sooner we get wise to the fact that, even though we may still be called the United States of America, saying it need not make it so.
We have those who truly hate our way of life, people such as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib badmouthing our country day in and day out, and we allow them to sow hate and discord to keep the Welfare State a perpetual entity handing out our money to those who hate us. Our tax dollars are given to Muslim men who have multiple wives who in turn have multiple children, only to grow up to vote the Constitution into the dumpster, and still they arrive every day. The plan is to out-vote us.
The reality of our situation does not equal the rhetoric of ‘The land of the free and the home of the brave’ unless we can, somehow, turn the tables; stem the flow; and change the course of history.
So looking back on all the pages of the calendar flip through the months and years, did the knife at my throat miss its target by Fate or was it just a coincidence? Either way, I survived long enough to have written this.
[*second chance: and a third and a fourth; hey, who’s counting? Anyway, about twenty years ago, I finally got it right.]
“Trouble in Mind” (2:55)