As I settled into sleep last night I calculated in my head what time my waking up time would have been in 1863 and concluded that by the time I woke up, the battle would already have started. Shots are fired, men die and the biggest scrap of the war is underway.

Who knew that July 1 was such a day of battles? I knew Gettysburg started today and somewhere in the dark recesses of my historical memory I recalled that the Battle of San Juan and Kettle Hill was today in 1898 – the 35th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg. I didn’t know today was also the beginning of the Battle of El Alamein.

I wonder why July 1 is such a day for fighting. For me, I’m usually railing against the heat as I prepare to again don the wool and sally forth. Why on earth anyone would want to fight in such heat is beyond me.

Happily it’s a gorgeous day, clear and cool. It would be a fine day for fighting if there were any to be done.

Enjoying my birthday here in damp and chilly Central Florida thinking I shouldn’t complain because it’s a hell of a lot worse where everybody else is.

Thinking about my Grandmother in her hospital bed fighting the latest in a seemingly never-ending stream of difficulties and wishing I could talk to her and share the celebration of her becoming a grandmother on this day thirty-six years ago.

Thinking about Jed Hastings, R.I.P., and missing the annual telephone call on “our” birthday. It just ain’t the same.

Thinking that thirty-six is much tougher on my brain than anything else in my thirties: I assume it’s because I’m closer to 40 than 30 and closer to 50 than 20. Crazy the way the mind works.

Thinking I must be completely loopy to go to Disney World by myself at thirty-six. But, damn, I had a good time.

The Clerk read the Senate joint resolution, as follows:

“Whereas the Imperial Government of Japan has committed repeated acts of
war against the Government and the people of the United States of
America:

“Therefore be it

“Resolved, etc., That the state of war between the United States and the
Imperial Government of Japan which has thus been thrust upon the United
States is hereby formally declared; and that the President be, and he is
hereby, authorized and directed to employ the entire naval and military
forces of the United States and the resources of the Government to carry
on war against the Imperial Government of Japan; and, to bring the
conflict to a successful termination, all of the resources of the
country are hereby pledged by the Congress of the United States.”

Minutes of the United States House of Representatives. Signed by President Roosevelt at 4:10 PM, December 8, 1941

Seems a pretty bloodless way to set out on a war that would end with mushroom clouds over Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

While reflecting on all the weirdness of the past week I realized that we’re in for several more decades of historical weirdness:

• 2009-2015: The Sesquicentennial of the American Civil War (16 October 1859 – 6 November 1865)
• 2014-2018: The Centennial of the Great War (1 August 1914 – 11 November 1918)
• 2025-2039: The 250th Anniversary of the American Revolution (19 April 1775 – 30 April 1789)
• 2039-2045: The Centennial of the Second World War (1 September 1939 – 2 September 1945)

And then it starts again with the Bicentennial of the Civil War.

Will anybody even remember the United States by then?

What a weird week. Monday was the anniversary of the end of the 1848 Revolutions, the founding of the Weimar Republic, the Munich Beer Hall Putsch, Kristallnacht and the 20th Anniversary of the Fall of the Berlin Wall.

Wednesday, of course, was the 91^st Armistice Day.

And now it’s Friday the 13^th.

That’s a flat-out wacky week.

When I was a boy, all the people of all the nations which had fought in the First World War were silent during the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of Armistice Day, which was the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

“It was during that minute in nineteen hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped butchering one and another. I have talked to old men who were on battlefields during that minute. They have told me in one way or another that the sudden silence was the voice of God. So we still have among us some men who can remember when God spoke clearly to mankind.

“Armistice Day has become Veterans’ Day. Armistice Day was sacred. Veterans’ day is not.

“So I will throw Veterans’ Day over my shoulder. Armistice Day I will keep. I don’t want to throw away any sacred things. — Kurt Vonnegut

There is something more to be said for Veterans’ Day. It should not be on November 11. That is and always should be Armistice Day. Established remembrance days should not be altered for transient reasons. Washington’s Birthday should not be President’s Day. Armistice Day should not be Veterans’ Day. To conflate the two belittles both. Veterans deserve a day of their own, separate and equally significant.

Today while I remember the millions slaughtered in the Great War, I also remember the veterans I know. Those who served in war and peace and who gave a small or large part of their life to the service of people they never met. Thank you to my Dad, to two Dickys, to Bobkat, Jimmy, Denis, Uncle Dan, Grandfather Dreher, Grandpop, Kenny, Charlie, Johnny and all other veterans. Living and dead. Those I remember and those I can’t. Those who went to war and those who maintained peace.

And remember, mixed with horror for the days preceding, the joy and jubilation of November 11, 1918. And maintain a moment’s silence at 11 AM wherever you are.

On the morning of November 11th I was with a section in the front, and had orders to harass the Hun until 11 a.m. when hostilities would cease. At eleven o’clock we halted at an estaminet and amazed the landlady by demanding beer and shouting “Le guerre finis”. — Corporal Robert William Iley, 21st (Service) Battalion, King’s Royal Rifle Corps (Yeoman Rifles)

I have had many an old French couple come up to Major Merrill and me and throw their arms about us, cry like children, saying, “You grand Americans; you have done this for us.”

. . . Thank God, thank God, the war is over. I can imagine all the world is happy. But no where on earth is there a demonstration as here in Paris. I only hope the soldiers who died for this cause are looking down upon the world today. It was a grand thing to die for. The whole world owes this moment of real joy to the heroes who are not here to help enjoy it. — Charles S. Normington

November 9, 1989 is not a day that sticks in my head. The fall of the Berlin Wall does not weigh on my mind the way the beginning of the 1991 Gulf War, or September 11 does. Mostly I remember the end of the Cold War as a confused and jumbled series of images.

For instance, I never understood what was going on with Yeltsin on the tank. I never understood the steps that led to the pictures of people in the middle of the night smashing up the Wall with their bare hands. To be honest I still don’t know much about what happened. I suppose this is partly because I lived through it and history in the moment is much less cut and dried with clear implications than it is long after the fact. Partly it is because I just never studied 20th century history.

But the further removed we get from November 9, 1989, the more the importance of the date looms in history. Some day I expect it will rank with the adoption of Independence, the Emancipation Proclamation, the surrender of Nazi Germany and all the other great days of Liberation in the history of man.

That is, of course, provided we remember it. And why it matters.

According to the Guinness Brewery, Arthur Guinness was born Sept 24, 1725. The real birthdate is unknown and Guinness itself has changed the recognized date over the years. Never the less, today is celebrated as Arthur’s Day for those inclined to a pint or two.

What is not in dispute is that Arthur Guinness made the second best real-estate deal in history on December 31, 1759 when he signed a 9,000 year lease on the St. James Gate Brewery in Dublin.

The combination of these two august occasions leads the gigantic corporate overlord that now runs the Guinness empire to call today the 250th Birthday of Guinness.

Let there be bells and fireworks. Let children dance in the street and adults sing. Let all the earth rejoice!

And maybe share a pint of the black stuff at 17:59 this evening in tribute.

Thank you Arthur Guinness.

17 September 1787

Forty-two men sign a document proposing a new government for the newest member of the fraternity of nations.

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

17 September 1862

127,000 men bloodily contest the meaning of that founding document on the 75th anniversary of its adoption. 26,000 or more never see the end of the argument or witness the mightiest of nations rise on the foundation of their sacrifice.

“Such a storm of balls I never conceived it possible for men to live through. Shot and shell shrieking and crashing, canister and bullets whistling and hissing most fiend-like through the air until you could almost see them. In that mile’s ride I never expected to come back alive.”

September 17 is more sacred to me than Christmas. More eagerly anticipated than my birthday. Almost as much fun as St. Patrick’s Day. In the last fifteen years or so I can count on one hand the number of days I wasn’t walking the fields around Antietam creek. Hell, last year in the middle of my great adventure I flew back east so I could visit Antietam on September 17.

And today I’m in New-f**king-Jersey. I don’t even have the energy to visit Independence Hall and celebrate our Constitution. The way things are going it won’t be celebrated much longer anyway. Instead, in my mind, I’ll think of the warm fall breeze and the quiet as I tramped along roads and through woods to take a break in the shade on the banks of the Antietam.

And wish I was there.

Eight years.

Seems like only yesterday.

Today is as different from this day eight years ago as it is possible to get. There’s no warm sunshine, just sheets of cold, grey rain. I wonder, is God pissed that we’re fighting back? Or pissed that we’re not fighting hard enough?

Does anyone even remember? Eight years ago we were thinking about invading Afghanistan to clear out the viper’s den. Today we’re still slogging through Afghanistan to no point or purpose because our esteemed leaders don’t want to be rightly viewed as soft on national security.

I think the righteous anger has calmed. The big smoking crater in New York is pretty well cleaned up and new construction is rising. The hole in the grassy meadow in Pennsylvania is now a contemplative memorial. The smashed wall in Washington has been reconstructed and holds the same offices it did eight years ago. The wounds have healed over. The scars have faded. There aren’t even any scabs left to pick. And those of us who remember what this day was like are left looking like inflexible morons for dwelling on the flames and the terror and the blood and the death.

For eight long years we’ve all been flogged with how horrible things were in the United States. How we were all subjected to a “Climate of Fear.” I have never felt so afraid from that distant day to this one as I do right now.

Eight years ago, at the very least, we had a government that understood that as of 8:46 AM Eastern Time on September 11, 2001 this nation was at war. Eight years later we have a government that thinks we brought the war on ourselves. Or that it was all the fault of the Jews. Or that we’re fighting the wrong war in the wrong place at the wrong time and it would probably be better to just forget all about it and concentrate on playing nice with each other and getting some legislation enacted that would cut our knees out from under us and finish the process of turning the United States of America into something like Belgium: small, powerless and dependent on others for security and wealth.

Well, hell. I still remember who we used to be and where we came from and how we got here. Somebody has to remember.

September has always held great meaning for me. That’s an odd thing to say considering September also means Back to School – and I hate school.

September means the end of the boiling heat of summer. September means a usually free long Labor Day weekend. September is my parent’s wedding anniversary. September is the anniversary of the Battle of Antietam. September is the race for the baseball post-season.

It’s by turns exciting and melancholy. Like the warm sun and the cool breeze of September. The green grass under your feet while the leaves turn red and gold over your head.

And to think I never made the connection on the first days of this most favored of months.

On September 1, 1864 Hood abandoned Atlanta. Sherman marched in the next day.

The fall of Atlanta was a triumph nearly unmatched in the story of the Civil War. While Grant was running up a breathtaking butcher’s bill in the East trying to pin Lee down in the static mire of Petersburg, Sherman was cut loose to smash Joe Johnston’s army. Abandoning that task, Sherman did take the most essential of Southern cities with a mere two months to the Northern elections. After Atlanta’s fall, Lincoln’s reelection was assured and the Confederacy doomed.

On September 1, 1939 – exactly 75 years later – Germany invaded Poland and touched off the Second World War.

It would be a long five years later by the time things were looking nearly as assured for the good guys as they did September 1, 1864.

In five years, we’ll be as removed from the start of World War II as the men of 1939 were from the Battle of Atlanta. I am sure that the Civil War seemed like ancient history to the men who lived through the Depression and found themselves embroiled in yet another World War. But the last World War seems like only yesterday to those of us in the modern world left to deal still with its aftermath.

And it all happened in September.

Some weeks ago I wandered more or less aimlessly through downtown Philadelphia with the goal of seeing some of the parts of Independence Park I’d never seen. I did manage to spend quality time in the Second National Bank of the United States and to look around Carpenter’s Hall and Franklin Court but I missed the New Hall Military Museum and Old City Hall because of the bizarre hours the Park Service keeps.

For instance, one of the displays in Franklin Court is a rental property of Mr. Franklin’s that has been gutted and turned into an architectural exhibit. It’s one of my favorite things to see but I only got a 5 minute visit because it’s only open from 11 Am – 2 Pm on a Saturday afternoon. Upon entering I was informed in no uncertain terms that I had 5 minutes to look around and I was, in fact, keeping the Ranger from skiving off early.

It may just be me but it seems that the birthplace of our wonderful nation ought to be more accessible. Ought to be a showplace, in fact. I don’t have strong numbers but I would expect places like Independence Park are relatively high on a foreign tourist’s To Do list: Shop in New York, see Independence Hall, go to Gettysburg and then set out for the Natural Wonders of our slice of the North American continent. If I am right, it is an absolute stain on the nation’s honor to see the subterranean Franklin Court Visitor’s Center with its mildewed carpets, broken exhibits and dank spaces. It is incomprehensible that we must surrender our liberty in order to see the Liberty Bell, or submit to absolute dependence on the judgment of security to see Independence Hall. It is unconscionable that many of the Independence Park attractions are only open for 23 minutes, once a fortnight in months that end in “Y.”

Why wouldn’t we make a showplace out of the places we have to share? These sites are important to the World. There men showed for the first time that We the People could take care of ourselves. That we could preserve and depend liberty. That we were responsible enough to live our own lives without the interference and direction of well-ruffed, inbred gits.

But I suppose that’s old thinking. We’re expected now to assume subservient roles to well-groomed, genetically engineered gits.

O brave new world,
That has such people in’t!”

Our landings in the Cherbourg-Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops.

My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. The troops, the air and the navy did all that Bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.

– July 5

Note by General Eisenhower (misdated) on the eve of the (successful) Normandy Landings June 5, 1944.

There are an infinity of possibilities in any human endeavour. What if the Airborne drops had gone according to plan and concentrated American units ran into concentrated German opposition – instead of the mass confusion misdrops caused? What if the Omaha landings had been aborted and the troops withdrawn? What if the Utah landings had gone in at the right spot? What if the guns at Pointe du Hoc had still been operational?

A myriad of possibilities. None of them came to pass. And less than 200,000 men – British, Canadian, American, French and God knows what else – performed an impossible task admirably and thereby contributed materially to the liberation of the world. Let there be no doubt – it was an impossible task. I’ve been there – a year ago today – it was flat-out impossible. And yet they did it while the world watched. And waited.

ALLIES LAND ON NORTHERN COAST OF FRANCE UNDER STRONG AIR COVER . . .

View Larger Map
Internet access has been spotty and annoying these last two weeks. Until I get time to post my notes so far you’ll have to rest assured that in the last two weeks I’ve gone south, done the latter half of Bike Week and the leading edge of Spring Break, seen Flogging Molly and four baseball games (all of which my team lost) and am now preparing to fly north tomorrow for a parade after which I’ll fly south again for St. Patrick’s Day then light out for the Deep South.

Whew. Welcome to life in fifth gear.

200 years ago today – February 12, 1809 – Charles Darwin and Abraham Lincoln were born. It’s a pretty auspicious day when the two most influential personalities of the nineteenth century are born nigh-simultaneously.

This exalted anniversary offers an instructive object lesson on “what’s wrong with our society?” Or at least “what’s wrong with our modern media?” The front page of the Washington Post has a short article about Darwin’s birth and influence. No mention of Lincoln. I could make an argument that Lincoln’s ideas were more internationally and historically influential than Darwin’s but I’ll give the poor, ignorant press a pass on that one.

I turn to the inside sections looking for mention of Lincoln’s birthday. On the front page of the Style section is a HUGE article on the 100th anniversary of the founding of the NAACP. There’s a small lede mentioning two Lincoln exhibits coinciding with the Bicentennial celebration but that’s it.

We’re all in agreement, then? Darwin’s theories are indisputable law and he makes the front page because after all this time in the Dark Ages we need to “restore science to its rightful place.” The founding anniversary of an increasingly dodgy front organization for race hucksters gets billed bigger than Lincoln. And Abraham Lincoln, 16th President of these United States, then man who saved the Union, freed the slaves, and gave the whole world a “new birth of freedom” merits only a passing comment on how pitiful the National Gallery’s exhibit is.

Buy more bullets.

“Methought I heard him think, ‘Ay! I am fairly out and you are fairly in! See which of us will be the happiest!’” — John Adams putting words in George Washington’s mouth at Adams’ Inauguration as the Nation’s 2d President March 4, 1797

In 1865 Frederick Douglass attempted to attend the White House public reception following Lincoln’s second Inauguration. According to his own account, Douglass was stopped at the door by two policemen and was later nearly hustled out a window on a wooden plank by two other policemen. According to Elizabeth Keckley, “Strict orders [were] issued not to admit people of color.”

In 1901 Booker T. Washington was invited to the White House by President Theodore Roosevelt. The mere idea that a President of the United States would invite a black man into the White House was met with a torrent of protest from all corners of the country. “One editor wrote: ‘With our long-matured views on the subject of social intercourse between blacks and whites, the least we can say now is that we deplore the President’s taste, and we distrust his wisdom.’”

In 2009 a black man will take up residence in the White House. There are no howling editorials, no strong-armed cops, nobody who doesn’t think the man is both eligible and worthy of the great office.

We’ve come a long way, baby.

Good luck Mr. President.

Here I sit, not fifty miles from the site of tomorrow’s inaugural ceremonies. I have a place to stay in the District. I have a plan on how to get in and out and what to do with my car. And yet here I sit having made a decision. Here I sit wracked with indecision.

The historian in me is screaming at me to go; to witness history, to be a part of the gathering, to absorb the experience. After all I’ve just come off of five months of experience-gathering. How the hell can I consciously choose to miss out on an opportunity like this?

The rational side of me tells me to go with my first instinct: it’s going to be a hell of a mess down there tomorrow. I’ve been to an inauguration, I mostly remember being cold, hungry and wet. I don’t remember it being a transcendental experience. I don’t remember being excited about making inaugural attendances a regular thing.

The emotional side of me tells me that I don’t want to be around people celebrating an occasion that I believe deserves deep mourning. Nor do I want to drag down those who do think it an occasion for celebration. I believe that tomorrow is the end of the experiment called “The United States of America” as it was envisioned by the Founders and constructed in the Constitution. Since I also believe that this failed experiment has been the greatest force for good in human history it makes me deeply depressed to see it set on the road to Soviet style government and ultimate ruin.

And the historian screams back, “Damn your emotions, man! Be objective! Be an observer and recorder and damn all your bellyaching!”

But I can’t do that. Not yet. Maybe someday. But not today. Or tomorrow.

When you fellas gonna come over?
When we get good and ready. What you want?
Want Fredericksburg.
Don’t you wish you may get it? — An exchange between Federal and Confederate soldiers across the Rappahannock River – Shelby Foote “Ken Burns Civil War”

Years ago I came to Fredericksburg every year on December 13 to commemorate the Battle of Fredericksburg. Every fight has its own character, and this one a bit more than most: largest land battle ever fought in the Western Hemisphere, only Civil War battle fought in city streets, the lost opportunity on the Federal left, the squandered heroism of the Irish Brigade, amphibious landings under enemy fire. Lots of good stuff here in this wintry conflict.

Thought when I was planning that one day might be enough. Decided to stay until Sunday to give myself some breathing room and now am certain that a week wouldn’t be sufficient. It’s a little-explored place filled with interesting nooks and crannies. And someday I have to take the time to see them all.

Another year, another anniversary of the Day of Infamy. It’s been an unusually uncommemorative one for me. I don’t even have that crappy Ben Affleck movie at hand to memorialize the day. So I remember in relative silence.

And yesterday attended the Antietam Illumination. 23,110 candles placed all over the northern section of the Antietam battlefield from the Sunken Road to the North Woods. It was a good time for it. I could remember the 2,896 casualties at Pearl and the 23,110 casualties on the fields of Sharpsburg and the one Antietam casualty who happily lived just long enough to start the line of descendants that ends with me.

It was a good Pearl Harbor Day weekend.

Memorial Day was established in 1868 by Civil War veterans to remember their comrades that died in service. Today we remember the dead of all United States wars and pay special tribute to the men and women who have died in service to We the People.

Today, I walked through the Gettysburg National Cemetery before the annual ceremonies. It’s something to stand on that hill among the graves and look to all directions and imagine the surrounded soldiers gathering there on the evening of July 1, 1863 preparing to defend the ground that would become their grave. Kind of spooky.

I remember today my great-great-great-grandfather, Lewis Dreher of the 27th Indiana who fought with his regiment through the Valley in 1862 and at Cedar Mountain before being wounded at the Battle of Antietam. He went home, re-enlisted in 1863, never did a lick of good service and died in 1870 as a broken young man. I remember the men lying in the National Cemetery: Sgt. McKinney of the 1st Pennsylvania Reserves who died defending his hometown, the many men of my ancestor’s regiment who died down the road on Culp’s Hill on July Second and Third, James Ivers of New York who – though no relation – shares a name with my very good friend and whose grave we like to visit and remember, and all the men of the U.S. Regulars who fought and died at Gettysburg and who rest undivided by state.

Especially I remember the Unknowns. The men whose bodies were so mangled or their remains so oddly placed that it couldn’t even be determined what unit they fought with or what state they’d come from. I think they are the best representation of the effort of the United States in all wars – anonymous men from disparate communities fighting for common cause. General Thomas – the disowned Virginian commanding the Federal Army of the Cumberland – understood the idea of the United States. When he was asked if the burials on Orchard Knob at Chattanooga should be by state he replied, “No. No. Mix ‘em up. I’m tired of state’s rights.”

“Mix ‘em all up.” Pretty much encapsulates the American Experience.

Drink to the Dead.

April 13, 1830
Andrew Jackson

“Our Union — it must be preserved!”

April 3, 1865
Myrta Lockett Avary, A Virginia Girl in the Civil War

“As the day grew lighter I saw a Confederate Soldier on horseback pause almost under my window. He wheeled and fired behind him; rode a short distance, wheeled and fired again; and so on, wheeling and firing as he went until he was out of sight. Coming up the street from that end toward which his fire had been directed and from which he had come, rode a body of men in blue uniforms. It was not a very large body, they rode slowly, and passed just beneath my window. Exactly at eight o’clock the Confederate flag that fluttered above the Capitol came down and the Stars and Stripes were run up. We knew what that meant! The song “On to Richmond!” was ended . . .”

Subsequent quotes taken from Georgia’s Blue and Grey Trail

April 7, 1865

General Grant, Commanding U.S. Armies to General Lee, Commanding Army of Northern Virginia

HEADQUARTERS ARMIES OF THE U. S.,
5 P.M., April 7, 1865.

GENERAL R. E. LEE
Commanding C. S. A.

The result of the last week must convince you of the hopelessness of further resistance on the part of the Army of Northern Virginia in this struggle. I feel that it is so, and regard it as my duty to shift from myself the responsibility of any further effusion of blood, by asking of you the surrender of that portion of the Confederate States army known as the Army of Northern Virginia.

U. S. GRANT,
Lieut.-General.

General Lee, Commanding Army of Northern Virginia to General Grant, Commanding U.S. Armies

April 7, 1865.

GENERAL: I have received your note of this day. Though not entertaining the opinion you express on the hopelessness of further resistance on the part of the Army of Northern Virginia, I reciprocate your desire to avoid the useless effusion of blood, and therefore before considering your proposition, ask the terms you will offer on condition of its surrender.

R. E. LEE,
General.

April 8, 1865

April 8, 1865.

GENERAL R. E. LEE,
Commanding Confederate States Army

Your note of last evening in reply to mine of same date, asking the condition on which I will accept the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia is just received. In reply I would say that, peace being my great desire, there is but one condition I would insist upon, namely: that the men and officers surrendered shall be disqualified for taking up arms again against the Government of the United States until properly exchanged. I will meet you, or will designate officers to meet any officers you may name for the same purpose, at any point agreeable to you, for the purpose of arranging definitely the terms upon which the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia will be received.

U. S. GRANT,
Lieut.-General.

April 8,1865.
GENERAL,
I received at a late hour your note of to-day. In mine of yesterday I did not intend to propose the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia, but to ask the terms of your proposition. To be frank, I do not think the emergency has arisen to call for the surrender of this army, but as the restoration of peace should be the sole object of all, I desired to know whether your proposals would lead to that end. I cannot, therefore, meet you with a view to the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia; but as far as your proposal may affect the Confederate States forces under my command and tend to the restoration of peace, I should be pleased to meet you at ten A.M. to-morrow on the old stage road to Richmond, between the picket lines of the two armies.

R. E. LEE,
General

April 9, 1865

HEADQUARTERS ARMIES OF THE U. S.,
April 9, 1865.

GENERAL R. E. LEE,
Commanding C. S. A.

Your note of yesterday is received. As I have no authority to treat on the subject of peace, the meeting proposed for ten A.M. to-day could lead to no good. I will state, however, General, that I am equally anxious for peace with yourself, and the whole North entertains the same feeling. The terms upon which peace can be had are well understood. By the South laying down their arms they will hasten that most desirable event, save thousands of human lives and hundreds of millions of property not yet destroyed. Sincerely hoping that all our difficulties may be settled without the loss of another life, I subscribe myself, etc.,

U. S. GRANT,
Lieutenant-General.

Hd Qrs A N Va
9th April 1865

General, I sent a communication to you today from the picket line whither I had gone in hopes of meeting you in pursuance of the request contained in my letter of yesterday. Maj. Gen. Meade informs me that it would probably expedite matters to send a duplicate through some other part of your lines. I therefore request an interview at such time and place as you may designate, to discuss the terms of the surrender of this army in accordance with your offer to have such an interview contained in your letter of yesterday.

Very respectfully
Your obt servt
R. E. Lee
Genl.

Lt. Gen. U. S. Grant,
Comdr. U. S. Armies.

GENERAL R. E. LEE,
Commanding C. S. Armies.

Your note of this date is but this moment (11.50 A.M.) received, in consequence of my having passed from the Richmond and Lynchburg road to the Farmville and Lynchburg road. I am at this writing about four miles west of Walker’s Church and will push forward to the front for the purpose of meeting you. Notice sent to me on this road where you wish the interview to take place will meet me.

U. S. GRANT,
Lieutenant-General.

Approx. 1:30 PM, April 9, 1865
The Wilmer McLean house, Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia.

APPOMATTOX C. H., VA.,
Ap 9th, 1865.

GEN. R. E. LEE,
Comd’g C. S. A.

GEN: In accordance with the substance of my letter to you of the 8th inst., I propose to receive the surrender of the Army of N. Va. on the following terms, to wit: Rolls of all the officers and men to be made in duplicate. One copy to be given to an officer designated by me, the other to be retained by such officer or officers as you may designate. The officers to give their individual paroles not to take up arms against the Government of the United States until properly exchanged, and each company or regimental commander sign a like parole for the men of their commands. The arms, artillery and public property to be parked and stacked, and turned over to the officer appointed by me to receive them. This will not embrace the side-arms of the officers, nor their private horses or baggage. This done, each officer and man will be allowed to return to their homes, not to be disturbed by United States authority so long as they observe their paroles and the laws in force where they may reside.

Very respectfully,

U. S. GRANT,
Lt. Gen.

HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA,
April 9, 1865.

GENERAL:—I received your letter of this date containing the terms of the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia as proposed by you. As they are substantially the same as those expressed in your letter of the 8th inst., they are accepted. I will proceed to designate the proper officers to carry the stipulations into effect.

R. E. LEE, General.
LIEUT.-GENERAL U. S. GRANT.

Sunday – December 16, 2007 – was the 100^th anniversary of the sailing of the Great White Fleet. In fourteen months, the battleships and supporting vessels of the Atlantic Squadron circumnavigated the globe at the order of the President: A signal accomplishment, considering the published orders only covered a transfer of naval power from the Atlantic to the Pacific theatre.

On Aug. 15, the fleet sailed for Sydney, Australia . . . The fleet was greeted by more than 250,000 people, who had stayed up all night so as not to miss the ships’ arrival. For the next eight days, there was a non-stop celebration in honor of the Navy visitors.

With all this celebrating, some of the crewmen were beginning to feel the wear and tear. One sailor was found asleep on a bench in one of Sydney’s parks. Not wishing to be disturbed, he posted a sign above his head which read:

“Yes, I am delighted with the Australian people.
“Yes, I think your park is the finest in the world.
“I am very tired and would like to go to sleep.”

Being truly hospitable, Sydney let him sleep.

What an adventure. What a tribute to the American nation.

Sadly, all of the ships of the Fleet were scrapped according to the terms of the Washington Naval Treaty of 1922 which limited the naval power of the signatories.  Unsurprisingly – as in modern diplomacy – all parties immediately ignored the terms and continued building out their navies as world events required.

The title of the post is a shout-out to Alfred Thayer Mahan, whose book, The Influence of Seapower Upon History,1660-1783, inspired Theodore Roosevelt and the American people to undergo the crash program of naval construction that resulted in the existence of the fleet that put to sea.

The story of the Great White Fleet – a President ordering the expression of American power despite recalcitrant Congressmen, the heroic welcome given to Americans by foreign people despite the pessimistic rumblings of the press and politicians, the destruction of a mighty symbol of American power out of hopeless, treaty-bound naïveté – just goes to show that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

I used to have a list of days I considered High Holy Days: days when no work could be done and when pilgrimages were required in accordance with my own personal laws of behaviour.   Some of those days were holidays: St. Patrick’s Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas Day.  Some were personal days, like my birthday.  Some were the anniversaries of battles: September 17 – the Battle of Antietam and December 13 – the Battle of Fredericksburg.

Fredericksburg was a unique battle in the Civil War, and not only because Shelby Foote actually praised the valor of Union troops in describing the fight:

More credit is given to Confederate soldiers: they’re supposed to have had more elan and dash. Actually I know of no braver men in either army than the Union troops at Fredericksburg, which was a serious Union defeat. But to keep charging that wall at the foot of Marye’s Heights after all the failures there’d been is a singular instance of valor. It was different from southern elan. It was a steadiness under fire, a continuing to press the point.

Both armies were at the peak of their strength: 114,000 for the Union, 72,500 for the Confederacy.  Both armies had winnowed the ranks of shirkers and the officer’s corps of the incompentent.  Both armies had fought all year: from the Gates of Richmond, through the Valley, to the banks of Manassas Creek and the fields along the Antietam.  By December, the men of both armies knew how to fight, how to kill, and how to survive.

Fredericksburg had moments of notable rarity – an amphibious landing under fire, street to street and house to house fighting, large scale sack of an American town – and moments of horrifying frequency – unexploited breakthroughs, bad generalship, indescribable heroism, forlorn assaults.

Nearly 200,000 men fought at Fredericksburg – from the men of the Pennsylvania Reserves against North Carolinians in the swamps south of town to the men of the Irish Brigade against Georgians on the hills to the west – the largest land battle in the Western Hemisphere was hammered out.

I don’t go anymore, too many other things have come up to take the day’s place in the list of sacrosanct moments. Although I’m not there today I can remember the small granite marker at the river’s edge and watching as a mixed group of Irish and American politicians and military men dedicated it on a long-ago December 13. I can remember stopping into an antique shop downtown and being shown a small brown bottle with a yellowing label: “This boxwood was taken from the cap of an Irish soldier wounded in front of Marye’s Heights – December 13, 1862.”

Sadly, I’ll be on an airplane this evening and unable to do my yearly partial viewing of the execrable Pearl Harbor.  Nor will I have the opportunity to wander through the National Cemetery and pause, wondering, at the stones with December 7, 1941 carved on the bottom.

But, as always, I remember this day of infamy.   And I remember President Roosevelt’s stirring words, as applicable in our ongoing war as they were in December of 1941.

As Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense.

Always will be remembered the character of the onslaught against us.

No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.

I believe I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again.

Hostilities exist.  There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger.

With confidence in our armed forces — with the unbounding determination of our people — we will gain the inevitable triumph — so help us God.

There is something appallingly ironic about working for free on Independence Day.

This Independence Day I have a test for you all. Ten relatively easy questions, most of the answers can be found on the site.

If you cannot score 100%, you should shoot your high school civics teacher and immediately remove yourself to some alternate country like Belgium, or Canada. We certainly can’t use you here.

1. True or False: George Washington signed the Declaration of Independence.
2. Name three men who did.
3. Name two of the three duties of govenment specifically enumerated in the Declaration of Independence.
4. Who is the “He” repeatedly mentioned in the Declaration of Independence?
5. Who introduced the motion for Independence?
6. Trick question: The Declaration of Independence began what war?
7. Name one foreign country which based its founding document on our founding document.
8. Name three of the five men on the Committee which drafted the Declaration of Independence.
9. Who was the primary author?
10. In which city was the Declaration of Independence adopted?

Happy Independence Day!
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Our landings in the Cherbourg – Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. The troops, the air and the Navy did all that Bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.

The outcome of the Pacific War turned on a canteen of fresh water.

The United States had broken the Japanese JN-25 Naval code. We knew they were up to something; something to do with a place they designated “AF.” We just didn’t know where “AF” was. In those terrifying early months of war we couldn’t risk being out of place with what remained of our fleet while they pounced somewhere unexpected. We needed to unpuzzle “AF.”

In the spring of 1942, Japanese intercepts began to make references to a pending operation in which the objective was designated as “AF.” Rochefort and Captain Edwin Layton, Nimitz’s Fleet Intelligence Officer, believed “AF” might be Midway since they had seen “A” designators assigned to locations in the Hawaiian Islands. Based on the information available, logic dictated that Midway would be the most probable place for the Japanese Navy to make its next move. Nimitz however, could not rely on educated guesses.

In an effort to alleviate any doubt, in mid-May the commanding officer of the Midway installation was instructed to send a message in the clear indicating that the installation’s water distillation plant had suffered serious damage and that fresh water was needed immediately. Shortly after the transmission, an intercepted Japanese intelligence report indicated that “AF is short of water.”

from the NSA website

By the end of the day – June 4, 1942 – four Japanese aircraft carriers were at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean and the Allied forces had gained a measure of naval supremacy in the Far East.

I think about Midway a good bit – partly because I vaguely remember seeing the movie when I was little kid and partly because the cryptology part of the story is so much fun – but every year I’m surprised when I hear that June 4 is the anniversary of the Battle of Midway. Not next year, though. I’ve set myself a reminder.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away…

I am a Star Wars baby.

In 1997, I went to the opening night of Star Wars: Special Edition with at least ten other people. Out of that crowd I was the only person who had seen Star Wars in the theatres during its original theatrical release in ’77 or ’78. Star Wars changed my life. I’ve never known anything else.

Who would have guessed that settling into those velvety chairs near the concession stand – so Mom could keep an eye on me – in our 1920s theatre would have made such a difference? That life would have begun at 6:30 or 7:00 on that Friday night in the late 70s?

I still call my little brother – born in April, 1978 – “Kid” because that’s what Han Solo called Luke Skywalker. I’m still sore that the “cheek cannons” on my new AT-AT broke on Christmas Day 1980 because my inflatable R2-D2 punching bag bounced it into our 300 year old scottish high boy chest. The best way for me to relax into sleep when my mind is anxious is to imagine myself climbing into my X-Wing in the dark recesses of Yavin Four’s temples and launching against the first Death Star. Every time I move, I find my old threadbare Star Wars bedsheet and think about framing it. Somewhere in my collection is an original one-sheet from when we showed Star Wars all those years ago. I have a broken Landspeeder, a wingless X-Wing, a Luke without the lightsaber, a Ben Kenobi without his plastic cape. But I never had a TIE Fighter. Bollocks to the Empire!

Movie history has very few phases: pre-talkie, black and white, everything before Star Wars, and everything after. Without Star Wars there would be no quality sci-fi: no Blade Runner, Star Trek movies, Robocop, or The Matrix. Without Star Wars there would be no stunning comic book movies: no Sin City, Spider-Man or 300. Without Star Wars there would be no Indiana Jones, and without Indy there would be no Pirates of the Caribbean, Gladiator or Lord of the Rings.

Go on, listen to this and tell me you don’t get a lump in your throat.

Happy Birthday Star Wars! Thanks for thirty years of wildly imaginative entertainment. Here’s to thirty years of Star Wars and thirty years of Star Wars babies.

Five years. Five bloody years. I wasn’t the only person in the aftermath of September 11 to think that what I had to say ought to be published for the world to read. In the old Blogger days I had two sites: one contained my rants on politics and society, the other contained my vain bloviations on day to day life. Crap like this, my first post:

Bugger, I already wrote what I am about to write but damn the internet anyhow. So, as I was saying even though nobody but me knows it…
I am building a bar. My current dilemma is that the old shutter I found as a top has one small spot where the laminated wood has cracked and risen up. I can’t figure out how to get it down without really making a mess of things. Regardless, once I figure that out and soak the bloody thing in linseed oil then apply “fifty coats of hand rubbed laquer” it ought to be pretty swanky. Inanimate objects can be enablers too.

I didn’t say I had much to say.

Five years is a long time, although not as long as it seemed when I was younger. In the grand scheme of a still short life the past five years were the second most eventful half-decade in my existence. The number one half-decade was full of good and bad things, with the balance leaning towards good. Number two in the rankings, on balance, leans towards bad.

Five years ago:

• Three dear people were still alive.

• Cancer wasn’t part of my daily vocabulary.
• I was content in Gettysburg. Thought I’d probably pass my life there.
• I had never lived anywhere but Pennsylvania.
• I hated Canadians, Belgians and the French. Whew! At least some things never change.
• The world was newly at war and defeat seemed impossible.
• The Eagles hadn’t been to a Superbowl since 1980.
• The Red Sox hadn’t won a World Series since 1918.
• I hadn’t wasted two years of my life chasing a beautiful woman.
• No pooftahs! Wanted to make sure you’re all still paying attention.
• Some people were still married. Some people were not yet engaged. And some people hadn’t even met their spouses yet.
• I’d never been to New Orleans.
• I thought the iPod was overpriced and underpowered.
• Johnny Cash, Captain Kangaroo, Ronald Reagan and Bob Hope were still alive.
• I had never been to Opening Day. Or Spring Training.

Five years is a very long time. And I am honestly scared to death to face the next five.

Hot damn! An early spring sayeth the rodent prognosticator:

El Nino has caused high winds, heavy snow, ice and freezing temperatures in the west.
Here in the East with much mild winter weather we have been blessed.

Global warming has caused a great debate.
This mild winter makes it seem just great.

On this Groundhog Day we think of one thing.
Will we have winter or will we have spring?

On Gobbler’s Knob I see no shadow today.
I predict that early spring is on the way.

In years past I might have wept at such a forecast. I like skiing until Easter. But this year, my blood’s just too thin. Global warming is starting to sound mighty attractive. I mean, just imagine a warm sunny winter’s day heading out to lounge on the Atlantic beaches in Chicago. Where’s the downside to that?

“I think Lee should have been hanged. It was all the worse that he was a good man and a fine character and acted conscientiously. It is always the good men who do the most harm in the world.” — Henry Adams

I am not the sort of person to pay tribute to traitors. I will, for example, give Benedict Arnold great credit for being instrumental to our Revolutionary victory. But I agree whole-heartedly with the Continental who, when asked by Arnold what he’d do with General Arnold if he ever got hold of him after the treason replied, “We would cut your leg off and bury it with full military honors for your work at Quebec and Saratoga. The rest of you we would hang.”

It came as a surprise to find out that today is Robert E. Lee’s two-hundredth birthday. I have mixed emotions on this day. I do not think his achievements in our Civil War are to be celebrated. I think too, that while I wish I could offer some acknowledgment of his great strength of character – a character sorely lacking in modern man – it was that same strength of character and of misplaced belief that led him to abandon his country for more provincial loyalties and to cause the deaths of hundreds of thousands of American men in a wholly useless war over indefensible principles. The fault, at beginning, may lie with Jefferson, Washington, Madison and Adams, but Lee, for all his greatness, chose to pursue the error. Someone like George Thomas should be lauded to the heavens for his strength of character – he gave up his family to fight for his country – but Lee continues to receive the accolades.

I would like to see the elevation of Lee serve as an object lesson on the fall of a good man. But I don’t think his errors are what people have in mind on his birthday.

Over the years I have designated a number of High Holy Days. Those are days that I feel a need to be in a certain place or to do a specific thing and work and reality won’t be permitted to get in the way. The list includes: March 17, September 17, the third Thursday in November, December 10 and December 13. Sadly, in recent years December 13 has fallen by the wayside, and this year I didn’t even commemorate September 17 in my usual way, but in the old days today was a road trip to Fredericksburg.

Like Antietam, Shiloh, and Franklin, Fredericksburg was never given the attention it deserved. Fredericksburg is the largest land battle in the Western Hemisphere, the only battle of the Civil War to be fought directly in and through a town, one of the most lopsided defeats of the war and a battle filled with heights of heroism, lows of frustration and infinite missed opportunities.

Another Pearl Harbor Day; and this in the midst of reports urging our surrender, a horrifying return to realpolitik, moaning about wars and rumors of wars. Oh for a return to the good old days of World War Two when we were all pulling together towards a common goal.

Only we weren’t at all, were we?

There were isolationists and angry mothers in the 1940s too. There were cowards, draft dodgers and conscientious objectors. There were those who argued we were fighting the wrong battle – no matter where we were fighting.

A democracy at war ought to be a fearsome enemy because of its very nature. War must be meaningful, it must be fought hard because above all it must be short. Life is just too good in a democracy for its people to tolerate long wars and extended sacrifice. But in an age where we can’t even contemplate a Hiroshima to achieve victory – how can we win any wars? If you won’t do what’s necessary then there’s no point in getting involved.

That may be the lesson of Pearl Harbor Day: be certain – before you begin – that you are willing to do what is needed to achieve an end.

On a brighter note, I won’t have to force myself to watch Pearl Harbor this year. For two reasons: one, it’s a movie night and two, I can watch 1941 instead.

July 4 is celebrated as the birthday of our nation. On that day, Congress adopted the Declaration of Independence. John Adams suggested July 2 as the more appropriate day. On that day Congress adopted Richard Henry Lee’s resolution for independence.

Either day, or both, is perfectly acceptable for a celebration. While we may have been independent as of July 2, we didn’t put our founding ideals into words until July 4. This year, I want to celebrate July 3 – the first day of our new nationhood.

July 3 wasn’t a very exciting day in 1776: Congress continued to debate and amend Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence, dispatches to and from the Army were read and entered into the record, the British in New York made some landings and skirmishing continued through the area, John Adams wrote his famous letter home, contemplating the meaning of the act just completed. Just another sultry day in a difficult summer.

But today was the first full day of the Independency of these United States. On the morning of July 2 we were still the United Colonies of North America in Continental Congress assembled. On the morning of July 3 we were the United States of America, a sovereign, self-governing nation – not yet committed to all men’s equality but – “of right, . . . free and independent states.”

Happy Birthday to the United States. May Providence continue its blessings.

Suddenly the academic past comes crowding in. Apparently the weekend past was the tenth reunion of my college class. Either today or a week ago today is the fifteenth anniversary of my high school graduation.

Christ, I’m old.

I was asked, some weeks ago, whether I’d be at the high school reunion shindig in October. My answer, paraphrased, was “I never say never but it would be a cold day in hell.” Two college friends I hadn’t seen in nearly three years showed up unexpectedly last weekend to do the reunion thing and I instead mounted up and headed out to drink heavily in funny clothes.

I know people who look back with unbridled nostalgia on high school. I know others who consider their college days the highpoint of their lives. I can remember a few good times in high school and I can remember doing some particularly odd things in college but my nostalgia level for both is pretty low. My ideal time of life, the one that’s never been topped, is the two years after college.

Man, life was good then. I got paid peanuts but I didn’t have to go to work until noon and I got home just as the nightly specials started at the bar. The summer after graduation I fell in with a beautiful woman and the summer after that I met another who remains one of the two people from the college years I’m still close to. One great friend was still in school and I made another who lived next door; every day was a drunken laughfest.

Those winters and springs consisted of going to work and having a delightful time shooting the shit, playing Duke Nukem and watching ham-fisted college techo-gits try to hit on the girls whose PCs they were fixing. The nights consisted of meeting my bros at the bar and drinking the place closed. The bartenders were so good, and so accustomed to our nightly appearance, the pitcher and glasses would be filled by the time we rounded the corner.

Summers put me on an earlier schedule so I was forced to play hooky and show up about 9 most mornings. As soon as the clock ticked over to quitting time it was off to the dirt bar across the street to pick up 40s of Olde English and up the fire escape to my pal’s joint next door where the silliness would commence. Weekdays we drank ourselves to sleep. Weekends we wore funny clothes and annoyed tourists. What a hoolie.

Those were high times. Broke, drunk and mostly optimistic. Now folks are mostly married, kids are contemplated, the older generation is rapidly dying off and I’m not one block – but a long way – removed from the high times. Life ain’t bad, but it ain’t pretty either.

Twenty years seems like a long time; two thirds of my lifetime ago. I guess that qualifies as a long time ago.

When I was a kid my Dad had to do two weeks active duty every year to fulfill his obligation to the Navy Reserve. Being the creative sort of guy he is he managed to get assignments in places where the family could go along and we’d have a family vacation. That’s how I got to go to San Diego twice, Orlando, Denver, and Charleston before I was ten. I guess 1986 was a Navy trip but I really can’t remember. One way or another I was standing in the freezing Floridian cold with my family and my grandmother, parked alongside of a causeway, across some great body of water about five miles from Launch Pad B on January 28, 1986.

Oddly for me, space head that I was, I had no interest in heading over to Cape Canveral to see the Shuttle launch. Mom, of course, said I was just in a hurry to get to Disney World. Probably a correct assessment. Who would want to miss a once in a lifetime experience like seeing a Shuttle launch? There we were, cameras trained on the pad, radio in the car blaring the launch countdown.

T +3.375 “Liftoff of the 25th space shuttle mission, and it has cleared the tower.”

My Mom had her camera trained on the Shuttle as it went up, finger mashed down on the shutter, leaving us with a great series of photos of the plume of smoke rising up into the cold blue sky.

T +10.000 “Roger roll, Challenger.”

It seems to me like that moment was the first of what happened next. The next thing I clearly recall happened fifty-six seconds later. I think by that time Mom had burned through her roll of film and was scrambling to refill the camera. Grandma had only taken one or two snapshots of the launch and was still standing ready for whatever happened next.

T+66.000 “Capcom, go at throttle up.”

T+70.000 “Roger, go at throttle up.”

And that’s it. That was the moment. At least in my mind. What happened next happened immediately. Nobody even knew what was going on. Ten seconds passed. We watched a gigantic ball of smoke erupt at the top of the exhaust column, two contrails shot out of the ball, one to each side, and veered crazily off to the side. I was sure, I know I said, that was the booster separation. All of us waited for the Shuttle to come out in the middle, leaping for the sky on a pillar of flame and smoke. Nothing happened. The two contrails that shot out burst into their own puffs of smoke while a little rainshower of smoky trails fell lazily from the right side of the main cloud. Grandma snapped a couple of photos. Still waiting.

T+1 min 56 sec “Flight controllers here are looking very carefully at the situation. Obviously a major malfunction.”

Ya think? What the hell is going on? OK, best guess, something happened, they separated the boosters early. Where’s the Shuttle? Maybe it’s far enough up it doesn’t leave a contrail anymore? Somewhere in here we heard a great roaring sound. Afterwards we all figured it was the explosion but I figure it was the delayed launch noise or the sonic boom. No way to know for sure.

T+2 min 50 sec “We have a report from the flight dynamics officer that the vehicle has exploded.”

After that I don’t remember clearly what happened. It may be that we had already started back to the west in the minute before the malfunction announcement and the explosion announcement. Unknowing disbelief can’t even begin to cover it. Shell shocked might be the closest description. I remember afterward sitting in the Sandpiper – I think that was the Officer’s Club – with the big screen in the corner running a constant stream of updates going over the same information again and again while we tried to eat lunch. I remember us trying to think of what to do with the rest of the day. It was too late to start a day at Disney. Where could we go to get away from the televisions and radios? I didn’t want to hear any more. I’d been there. I’d seen it. What happened, happened. I’m only a couple of miles away from the Happiest Place on Earth and I just saw the Space Shuttle blow up seventy-three seconds after launch. So much for happiness that day. I remember nightmares that night about the astronauts and I remember the shock wearing off as we tore into five days at Disney. I remember buying every commemorative magazine my Dad carried at the store and storing them, along with my Mom and Grandma’s developed photos in a manila folder. I still have that folder somewhere among the detritus of my life. I remember coming back to Pennsylvania and finding that the big news story was Bud Dwyer’s televised suicide. The news cycle is tight, even twenty years ago. I remember Reagan’s speech, the memorials in Arlington, reading High Flight and waiting for NASA to recover. I remember Groundhog Day 2003 and thinking “Not again” as a friend told me to turn on the TV on another bright chilly day.

I’ve been a lot of places and I’ve seen a lot of things. I’ve seen politicians and personalities. I’ve been in movies and on TV. But I don’t think there’s anything I can re-experience with more clarity than those few moments standing on the side of the road on a frigid Florida day in January, twenty years ago today.

All quotes are taken from a conglomerated UPI transcript of the day

Another date to remember: 141 years, four hours and about 100 yards separate my current lodgings from the very spot where Thomas J. Wood’s IV Corps started out from their trenches toward the Confederate lines half a mile away.

In two days of fighting the Federal Army shattered the Confederate Army of Tennessee, started them on their way entirely out of the state, ended the career of several generals and completely destroyed whatever lingering belief in the cause the Confederate soldier retained.

It was a very great victory.
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What a difference sixty years makes. When the Japs hit Pearl Harbor in 1941 their commanding officer said the above and promised only six months of victory before the United States began to overwhelm the Japanese juggernaut. When the latest bunch of America-envying wingnuts hit New York and Washington, DC in 2001 there was dancing in the streets and fantastic visions of imminent victory.

In 1941 we had a President who declared December 7 a “a date which will live in infamy” and asked Congress for an immediate declaration of war. In 2001 the President declared an undeclared war and did little else but plead with the world to play nice.

Have we lost our backbone? It is always the fate of empires to collapse from internal weakness. People get fat, dumb and happy – they lose their hunger for achievement and thus relinquish their accomplishments. The lads on the tip of the spear are tough, dedicated and clear about our objectives – they always are – but the homefront isn’t what it used to be.

Tonight I’ll suffer through at least some of the horrendous Pearl Harbor flick, wish I’d bought Tora, Tora, Tora years ago and offer a toast to the men who fought back and the lost people who understood the reason why.

I make it a point to remember great days in history. On June 6 I’m generally in World War II uniform drinking a toast to those lads. On November 11 I take a minute to recall the horrendous carnage on the Western Front. On July 4 I read the Declaration of Independence.

But the Civil War is the first love, the object of many studies and the single most money-swallowing interest I have. So, I remember many days: September 17, December 13, April 7 & 8, July 1, 2, & 3, July 21, November 19 and November 30.

When I was in Pennsylvania the first days of July were the great days of remembrance and celebration. In middle Tennessee civilisation has grown up where the men clashed, erasing most of the evidence. But here and there are a sign, a monument, a small patch of ground tucked away, preserved, so future generations remember what happened here.

I live not a hundred yards from where the outer Federal defensive line crossed the Hillsboro Pike south and west of Nashville. Not more than 30 miles to the south is the site of the greatest and most hopeless assault of the entire war in Franklin, Tennessee on November 30, 1864.

Pickett’s Charge got the glory – all the eastern battles overwhelm their western counterparts in the pantheon of heroic struggle – but Franklin was bigger and more clearly doomed than even that spectacular misstep. John Bell Hood sent double the number of men as Robert E. Lee across twice the distance against earthworks that had been prepared and strengthened for nearly twelve hours.

It was the twilight of the Army of Tennessee. The soldiers knew it at the time and modern historians cannot dispute the fact.
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On June 27, 1945 in Philadelphia, my Mother was born. The same day, on the other side of the United States, B-29 45-MO 44-86292 left Wendover Army Air Field in Utah for Tinian Island in the South Pacific.

On August 5, 1945, after a month of training, B-29 45-MO 44-86292 was christened “Enola Gay” after the mother of the pilot. The next morning, “Enola Gay” set out to make history.

Three days after the Hiroshima blast, a different model A-bomb was dropped on Nagasaki.

Despite the total destruction of two cities and the loss of hundreds of thousands of people the Japanese still dithered over surrender for another six days. The Japanese military even attempted to overthrow the Emperor to prevent the surrender.

Do not waste any tears on a people unwilling to listen to the pleas of humanity.

Which brings me to another interesting point. The Great Raid has been released after languishing in the system for a while. Despite the attention to detail and fidelity to the truth it seems to suffer from the standard disease of modern American filmmaking about the Pacific Theatre of World War II: it’s deadly boring. There have been several films made about the PTO since the success of Saving Private Ryan and all of them have sucked: Windtalkers, Pearl Harbor, The Thin Red Line. What’s the problem?

My best guess is that there’s something wrong in Hollywood. The Pacific Theatre was a no-holds-barred slugfest against some of the worst humanity has to offer. There was little glory in the heat and the muck. There were no great battles of maneuver with tanks and planes racing to encircle a beaten enemy as at Falaise. No great heroic moments of brittle victory as at Normandy. Instead, there were an infinite number of extremely personal fights as one army struggled forward and the other died in place.

And so Hollywood is stymied. How do you make a film about an individual’s place in war without making value judgements about the enemy? You can’t make a movie about the bonds between men, it wasn’t that sort of a war. You can make a movie about each man’s struggle with an inhuman enemy but then you’d have to actually portray the enemy. Notice how in all the pictures mentioned above, you almost never see the Japanese fighting man close up? You never hear of their unearthly determination or barbaric methods.

You cannot make the Japanese the heroes – like many like to do with the Viet Cong – because World War II is too well-remembered, so you have to leave them out of the story and try not to make the Americans too heroic. It might make filmmakers sleep better at night but it makes for a miserable goddamned film.

Here’s to the end of the war and to the men who won it: pilots, sailors, soldiers and marines. I’ll toast the dogfaces and squids even if it means I have to salute that pompous windbag MacArthur as well.

You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.

Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle hardened. He will fight savagely.

But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to Victory!

I have full confidence in your courage and devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory!

Good luck! And let us beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.

SIGNED: Dwight D. Eisenhower

There were many D-Days before: Veracruz, Gallipoli, Tarawa. There were many D-Days to come: Iwo Jima, Inchon, Umm Qasar. But this was the D-Day of D-Days: June 6, 1944.

Good job to those who have gone before and good hunting to those yet to come.

The 90th anniversary of the Great War continues without me paying much attention to it. I did see some info on ANZAC Day today so I thought I’d mention it. Go and do some reading and remembering you bums.

As time is short, I’ll leave you with The Pogues:

How well I remember that terrible day
When the blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell that they called Suvla bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He showered us with bullets, he rained us with shells
And in five minutes flat he’d blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia

I keep missing all this important historical stuff. Who knew April was such a crowded month?

140 years ago last week, the week began with great joy and possibility as Robert E. Lee finally surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia to Ulysses S. Grant. The same week ended in abject despair as John Wilkes Booth assasinated President Lincoln.

230 years ago today, the day started with the voices of dispatch riders galloping through the Massachussetts countryside warning colonial leaders and militia that “The Regulars are coming!” By mid-morning, eight Minutemen lay dead on Lexington Green. At the end of the day, forty nine other colonists and a staggering seventy three British Regulars lay scattered along the “Battle Road” and a war that nobody was prepared to fight was on in earnest.

Springtime makes people antsy, I suppose.

We have a German Pope.

How wonderful! Less higgledy-piggledy and more Teutonic efficiency ought to be expected. This makes me happy.

I find his choice of Papal title enlightening: Pope Benedict XVI. Saint Benedict was the creator of the Benedictine Rule. Benedict’s Rule set out a way of living through prayer and discipline that would allow anyone to live the life of the Gospels. I’ve read the rule summarized as “Pray and Work.”

Together with reports of the new Pope’s former responsibilities and general bent I take this to mean he’ll dedicate his papacy to restoring the foundation of the Church. Hopefully, there will be less compromise and more instruction on duty. John Paul II had abrogated his responsibilities in this department by the end of his life, preferring to spread the Word and make himself a known quantity to the world.

I’m looking forward to Pope Benedict. Much of the world, I am sure, is not. There’s no doubt it will be a time of choosing. Which side will we all end up on?

Sixty years ago yesterday the worst of the Nazi murder factories was liberated by the Red Army.

Two days from now free Iraq goes to the polls in defiance of another crowd of ruthless murderers.

If you have any doubt as to the moral righteousness of our efforts in Iraq, if you question our motivations or our means, if you wonder if captive Iraq was really as bad as has been suggested feel free to label which of the above pictures is courtesy of which merry band of mass murdering misanthropes.

Hitler?	or Saddam?

Yet another Pearl Harbor day come and gone. Somehow these days always seem to fall at a point when I have no time to stop and reflect. It was nifty though to wake up this morning and hear several NPR reports on the day and its consequences: it’s very rare to hear NPR report on anything worthwhile.

It’s off for the obligatory viewing of Pearl Harbor. I don’t enjoy it but it seems like it must be done.

Sometime I will have to rank my favorite days of the year. I can always toss off the top three but am always torn between which is number two and which is number three? Of the two Seventeenths, March and September, which do I enjoy more?

Today, oddly enough, I’m leaning toward the Seventeenth of September.

One hundred forty two years ago a fellow named Daniel (or William) Dreher got his red badge of courage either on September 16 on the way to the fields around Sharpsburg, Maryland or in the midst of heavy fighting on September 17. There’s probably no way to know for sure. What we do know is that Dreher was slightly wounded, sent to a field hospital and then sent home to Indiana due to the effects of that wound and a lingering, unreported hernia. By July of the next year, 1863, he was back in the Army although his service was less than admirable. At least one of his comrades reported he couldn’t do a lick of work and monthly equipment returns show he threw away every article of gear Uncle Sam issued him.

Family legend has it that Dreher was made a teamster on account of his disability and that he took the mules or wagon home to Indiana. Whether or not he went home with a team of mules he did go home, crippled by his service and died seven years later in 1870.

How many years after my great-great-great grandfather Dreher stood upon the grounds now called Antietam National Battlefield did I first stand there? Long before I knew who that Civil War fellow was in the picture at my uncle’s house I knew I felt something special at Antietam, something I don’t feel on any of the other battlefields I’ve visited. Maybe it’s the family connection.

So, today I’m heading down to Antietam again. My old tradition of taking September 17 off to visit the field has lapsed the past two years but I still visit as close to the date as I can and I always stop in Miller’s Cornfield to remember the sacrifice of my many times great grandfather and the 12,400 other defenders of the nation who fell that day. I don’t give much thought to the 10,318 other men who fell there but when the casualties are taken as a whole, and especially when they are visually presented by candles every December, the cost of war boggles my mind.

Tonight I expect to stand in rainsoaked Miller’s Cornfield and remember. Tomorrow, I walk the hallowed ground in a recreation of my forebear’s uniform and pay my own small tribute to he and his friends and all the other Americans who fought and bled on all the other war Septembers in history.

And then I think I’ll get drunk.

I knew today was important, I just couldn’t remember why.

I think The Onion said it best:
Read the rest of this entry »

I was, admittedly, at a loss for words today until it suddenly struck me that it is Bastille Day.

Bastille Day is celebrated as the beginning of the French Revolution and claims to be a holiday similar to our own Fourth of July. Naturally, as with everything else French, that’s crap. Bastille Day may indeed be the date of the beginning of the Revolution but there are no parallels to be drawn with any act of civilized men.

The monarchy did not end on Bastille Day – that happened four years later when King Louis lost his head. The Republic was not founded on Bastille Day – that happened shortly before the King was decapitated and foundered several times subsequent. The Constitution was not considered, adopted or written on Bastille Day – that happened fifteen times since July 14, 1789. I would hazard to say the French people didn’t even gain their liberty on Bastille Day – the point is certainly debatable.

So, what is Bastille Day? My best guess: yet another unneccesary tribute to over-inflated Gallic pride. A celebration of a bunch of drunken peasants storming a government garrison and slaughtering the attendants. More parallel to John Brown’s Raid or the New York City draft riots than the worthy beginning to a new society.

In honor of Bastille Day I offer tips on ridding yourself of pesky Frenchmen.

I am loathe to cover the same ground twice, regardless of the topic but on this day of days the only appropriate thing to do is once again post the great foundation document of our nation:

IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.–Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

——————————————————————————–

The 56 signatures on the Declaration appear in the positions indicated:

Column 1
Georgia:
Button Gwinnett
Lyman Hall
George Walton

Column 2
North Carolina:
William Hooper
Joseph Hewes
John Penn

South Carolina:
Edward Rutledge
Thomas Heyward, Jr.
Thomas Lynch, Jr.
Arthur Middleton

Column 3
Massachusetts:
John Hancock

Maryland:
Samuel Chase
William Paca
Thomas Stone
Charles Carroll of Carrollton

Virginia:
George Wythe
Richard Henry Lee
Thomas Jefferson
Benjamin Harrison
Thomas Nelson, Jr.
Francis Lightfoot Lee
Carter Braxton

Column 4
Pennsylvania:
Robert Morris
Benjamin Rush
Benjamin Franklin
John Morton
George Clymer
James Smith
George Taylor
James Wilson
George Ross

Delaware:
Caesar Rodney
George Read
Thomas McKean

Column 5
New York:
William Floyd
Philip Livingston
Francis Lewis
Lewis Morris

New Jersey:
Richard Stockton
John Witherspoon
Francis Hopkinson
John Hart
Abraham Clark

Column 6
New Hampshire:
Josiah Bartlett
William Whipple

Massachusetts:
Samuel Adams
John Adams
Robert Treat Paine
Elbridge Gerry

Rhode Island:
Stephen Hopkins
William Ellery

Connecticut:
Roger Sherman
Samuel Huntington
William Williams
Oliver Wolcott

New Hampshire:
Matthew Thornton

. . . I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.

You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not. — I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. — Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means. And that Posterity will tryumph in that Days Transaction, even altho We should rue it, which I trust in God We shall not.

So said John Adams to Abigail Adams on July 3, 1776. July 4, 1776 would come to be remembered as the great day of Independence but the resolution that was given meaning in the Declaration of Independence was passed on July 2.

And how far have we come in 228 years? I watched a show the other night called “Rebels and Redcoats: A British View of the American Revolution.” In it, a British historian travels the battlefields of the American Revolution. In one segement dealing with the war in the south he asks several modern Americans in Georgia or South Carolina what they think about the war. Two answer with the almost rote response, “It was about liberty, etc.” One younger man says something to the effect of:

I think it was a war for the rich and the poor made out badly. I was just discussing this with a friend the other night and we thought it wouldn’t be so bad if we’d lost the war. If we were still British we’d have socialized medicine and a decriminalized society. Cops without guns!

I wish I could find the exact quote because I imagine it’s hard to believe anyone would actually say such a thing. This man honestly feels that we would all be better off had the United States never existed!

That’s mind-boggling to me. In fact, it points to one of the great failings of the Left: their short-sightedness, their unwillingness to see the interplay of things and take in the big picture. Does this fellow actually think that if the American colonists had not risen against the British that the world we know would have evolved thus anyway? The “Great Experiment” which became our Republic set in motion many of the events that have brought us to this point in history.

Someday I’ll have to expand on the short-sightedness theme but for now, I’m getting too preachy.

Happy Birthday to the United States! May she be a beacon of hope and the bulwark of Liberty to generations to come just as she has been to generations past.

By the way, I don’t know what George III wrote in his diary on July 2 as the Continental Congress voted approval for the independency of the united colonies but I do know what he wrote on July 4 as John Hancock wrote his signature on the Declaration:

Nothing of importance happened today.

Care to offer a revision, King?

The greatest days, the most momentous events are often marked only by a very few scribbled words on a piece of paper. Grant’s telegraph to Lincoln, the note passed to Truman, etc.

We now can add another famous piece of paper to History’s great scrapbook.

Iraq has been given its freedom, now it has to earn it.

Good luck.

I was going to make some mention of today in reference to D-Day. 60 years ago today, soldiers were loaded into transport ships and paratroopers were kitted up and ready to load the planes when the order came through postponing the operation to June 6. All well and good, but I had no idea June 4 was such a momentous day for other reasons:

June 4, 1940 – The final boatload of troops left the beaches of Dunkirk en route to England ending Operation Dynamo. 338,226 soldiers were brought away from the Continent by a motley fleet of sailing vessels and survived to train and fight for the June day four years later when they’d return, reinforced, to liberate the Continent they were forced to leave.

June 4, 1942 – Aircraft of the carriers Enterprise and Yorktown found the Japanese fleet attacking Midway Island in the midst of refueling and rearming their air squadrons and rapidly disabled three of four Japanese carriers. This action smashed Japanese naval power in the eastern Pacific and put the Japanese on the defensive where they were to remain for the rest of the war. Oddly enough, this great American victory came almost six months to the day after Pearl Harbor – making Admiral Yamamoto eerily prophetic.

June 4, 1944 – While men and supplies were readied in southern England for the imminent cross-Channel invasion men of the Allied 5th Army entered the Eternal City – Rome – as the German army retreated northward. News of Rome’s fall was entirely overshadowed by the biggest news story of the century two days later.

June 4, 1989 – Pro-Democracy protesters in Tiananmen Square, Beijing, were fired upon by Chinese army troops. Thousands died and whatever hope there was for the anti-Communist “Velvet Revolution” to spread east was wiped out.

What a day.

Paul Rodriguez had one funny bit that I can remember. A gang of Mexican workers go up to their boss:

“Hey man, we want a holiday.”
“OK. What day do you want?”
“How about December twenty feefth?”
“Already taken, that’s Christmas.”
“Ohhhh. Then we want Jooly the fourth.”
“That’s Independence Day.”
“Huh. OK, how about the feefth of May?”
“Sure, nothing going on that day.”

And that’s how we came to have Cinco de Mayo, despite the lunatic ravings of these folks who would like the events of May 5, 1862 to be responsible for Federal victory in the American Civil War and, by extension, the survival of western civilization itself.

Loath as I am to not celebrate a drinking holiday I find that it would require a spring-heeled leap over the boundaries of good taste to celebrate a Mexican holiday – even one that arose due to yet another French debacle. How painful a decision this has been! I could spend my day swilling tequila and talking like Cheech while lambasting poor, pathetic Frenchies who couldn’t even defeat an outnumbered force of beaners who had been soundly trounced by an outnumbered force of Americans not twenty years before but that would mean celebrating said beaners’ holiday.

A pint of Guinness then and a toast to the San Patricios? Nah, bunch of traitors and it’s the wrong war.

I wonder how long it took the news of Lexington and Concord to reach the rest of the colonies 229 years ago? Surely by April 20 Boston knew what had happened, they had seen the bloodied and exhausted British troops stagger back into the city the evening before. I think John Adams down in Quincy knew it, I believe I recall reading about that. How long before Congress in Philadelphia knew that they were at war?

There are parallels between the War of Independence and our current fight. I’d bet the opinions of the people break down more or less as they did then: a third were for the Revolution, a third against it and a third remained indifferent. The nation wasn’t really ready for war, most didn’t realize we were at war even after the war was already upon us. As I recall, one of Congress’s first acts after the fighting had begun was to draft an apology – the “Olive Branch petition” – to George III. Sound familiar?

Still, then as now, there were those courageous few who stood up for what they knew was right, faced reality and were willing to put their lives on the line for their beliefs. The gamble paid off in 1775, who are we to risk less in 2004?