Twenty-one steps. A series of facing movements, shoulder arms, twenty-one steps the other direction, punctuated only by the periodic changing of the guard. Rain, snow, heat and cold – are not relevant in eternity – and this is, as much as humans can make it, an eternal watch.
The fallen fulfilled their duty to us, to the very end. Now we do our duty to them, as best we can…Our duty to remember, and to give devotion.
It rained the day I was there. Most of the crowd scurried for shelter. I stayed in place. They took shot and shell and death; I could stand a few drops of water. Besides, I was an infantryman, Eleven Bravo…I was used to being rained on. In fact, I was glad it was raining – that way, no one could see the tears on my face.
Across the vastness of America, monuments are falling. Christopher Columbus, various explorers and missionaries, former Presidents, and of course, anything and everything Confederate are all fair game. Even graves are not spared. The despicable city fathers of Richmond, Virginia – former capital of the Confederacy – weaseled until they found a way around a law prohibiting grave desecration, so that they could move the body (as well as the grave memorial) of Confederate General A.P. Hill.
Rewriting history, and removing all physical reminders of that history, are classical tools of Communist revolutions. The Bolsheviks in Russia, Mao in China, Castro in Cuba – now, BLM and Antifa – this is what leftists do. The past has to be eradicated. No eternal values or ideals are allowed to persist.
It’s only a matter of time before they dynamite the Presidents on Mount Rushmore, or at least “interpret” them for us. The Washington monument will be renamed for someone, anyone, not White.
And the Unknowns? They served a racist, imperialist nation founded by White men. Revolutionary logic demands that they go, to be replaced (literally or figuratively) by…I know not what. The void. The negation of all that is highest and best in humanity, that which indeed IS humanity. Welcome to the philosophy of the slime pit, the primordial ooze.
As for me, I will fight this. I was born to fight this. I have no desire to live beyond the existence of the race and the civilization that gave me birth. The immortal words ring in my ears: “And how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods?” …But death is not my goal, and defeat not an option. Others will fight alongside me, and together we will avert the most tragic fate in our long evolution.
Stand with us!
The existence – and the sovereignty, and the freedom – of my people is not negotiable.
