American Pride
I recently went to court for reasons I won't write about here. While I was sitting with my wife and waiting for the proceedings to begin, something hit me.
Just recently, I watched a documentary on WWII, and it was covering the bombing runs that the B-17 Flying Fortresses were conducting. And as I watched, I began to contemplate the sacrifice that these men made for people that they loved, knew and for those they didn't. For those, like myself, would never meet.
Their day would start prepping the plane, gear and themselves for the flight and the oncoming battle that they would have to endure. Only to be halted on the runway by thick fog and would be forced to wait there for which seemed to be a life time until they got the go-ahead to take off.
They would fly over, drop their belly full of bombs and, if they were lucky enough, limp a battered and beaten fortress to home base. Picture this: this flying multi-gun turret had seven guns on her all together. Starting at the nose, four were sticking out of the sides and the front of the nose which were manned by the two men in the nose. One, which rotated 360°, on the top, just behind the cockpit. Two guns hung from the middle of the belly, covering the sides. One sticking straight out of the tail of the plane. And, last, but not nearly the least, one man, who stood no taller than 5'4" was strapped into the ball turret.
The reason that these deadly works of art were dubbed, The Flying Fortress was because of the fact they could take everything that the enemy could throw at them and they would go on flying. But, of course, this didn't come without a price. Many brave solder were lost.
One position was the most deadly out of all ten positions; the ball turret gunner. Even thought as small a the solder was, he was not permitted a parachute because of lack of room, and was often shot up by enemy fighters taking a stab at the bomb-filled belly.
Often, if the belly was shot up bad enough that the electrical and hydraulic systems were damaged, the gunner would not be able to rotate into the correct positoion which was needed for exiting. Sometimes, both, the ball turret and landing gear systems, would be damaged causing the pilot and crew of the B-17 to make an emergency landing on the belly, crushing the ball turret gunner between the weight of the plane and the Earth. And this happened too often.
Now, I shall circle back around. WWII was fought to make sure we continued to speak english. These men made sacrifice after sacrifice serving our country to make sure our freedom stayed free. So that, if need be, I would have the freedom to walk into a courtroom of the law, which is under the protection and the provisions and the freedom of the United States of America, which these brave solders gave their lives and shed their blood to make sure we continued to live free in, and speak with a judge of said court of law about the case of which I will not speak of and ask of him anything which I see has to do with said case.
Call me crazy, but, after sitting there in said courtroom, pondering over that piece of American history, that any court of law which is governed by this wonderful country to which many solders gave their lives for, would deserve the upmost respect!
I am going to be quit blunt... It set my blood on fire to see people walk in wearing sweats, absurd t-shirts, hats or anything else that might have looked clean at the time. And, when the judge took roll call, hardly anyone of them responded with the proper, "yes sir." It was more often a, "Ya." Or, "I'm here." And I was the only one who stood when called apon. In fact, out of dress and the way I spoke to the judge, the only thing separating myself from the lawyers was the fact that I didn't have a jacket to go with my outfit. I was appalled and embarrassed by these people.
I am thankful that I have parents who took the time to teach my sisters and myself the downright important history of this God-blessed and God-created country and what our flag stands for.
That is why I was the ONLY American who walked into said courtroom with the upmost pride and respect for our country, wearing the proper attire. A nice white dress shirt, a tie (which I tied myself), slacks, dress shoes, a shaved face and a fresh haircut. And everything I spoke with the judge, I said, "Yes sir" and "No sir." And I gave him the respect that he and that courtroom deserved.
Just recently, I watched a documentary on WWII, and it was covering the bombing runs that the B-17 Flying Fortresses were conducting. And as I watched, I began to contemplate the sacrifice that these men made for people that they loved, knew and for those they didn't. For those, like myself, would never meet.
Their day would start prepping the plane, gear and themselves for the flight and the oncoming battle that they would have to endure. Only to be halted on the runway by thick fog and would be forced to wait there for which seemed to be a life time until they got the go-ahead to take off.
They would fly over, drop their belly full of bombs and, if they were lucky enough, limp a battered and beaten fortress to home base. Picture this: this flying multi-gun turret had seven guns on her all together. Starting at the nose, four were sticking out of the sides and the front of the nose which were manned by the two men in the nose. One, which rotated 360°, on the top, just behind the cockpit. Two guns hung from the middle of the belly, covering the sides. One sticking straight out of the tail of the plane. And, last, but not nearly the least, one man, who stood no taller than 5'4" was strapped into the ball turret.
The reason that these deadly works of art were dubbed, The Flying Fortress was because of the fact they could take everything that the enemy could throw at them and they would go on flying. But, of course, this didn't come without a price. Many brave solder were lost.
One position was the most deadly out of all ten positions; the ball turret gunner. Even thought as small a the solder was, he was not permitted a parachute because of lack of room, and was often shot up by enemy fighters taking a stab at the bomb-filled belly.
Often, if the belly was shot up bad enough that the electrical and hydraulic systems were damaged, the gunner would not be able to rotate into the correct positoion which was needed for exiting. Sometimes, both, the ball turret and landing gear systems, would be damaged causing the pilot and crew of the B-17 to make an emergency landing on the belly, crushing the ball turret gunner between the weight of the plane and the Earth. And this happened too often.
Now, I shall circle back around. WWII was fought to make sure we continued to speak english. These men made sacrifice after sacrifice serving our country to make sure our freedom stayed free. So that, if need be, I would have the freedom to walk into a courtroom of the law, which is under the protection and the provisions and the freedom of the United States of America, which these brave solders gave their lives and shed their blood to make sure we continued to live free in, and speak with a judge of said court of law about the case of which I will not speak of and ask of him anything which I see has to do with said case.
Call me crazy, but, after sitting there in said courtroom, pondering over that piece of American history, that any court of law which is governed by this wonderful country to which many solders gave their lives for, would deserve the upmost respect!
I am going to be quit blunt... It set my blood on fire to see people walk in wearing sweats, absurd t-shirts, hats or anything else that might have looked clean at the time. And, when the judge took roll call, hardly anyone of them responded with the proper, "yes sir." It was more often a, "Ya." Or, "I'm here." And I was the only one who stood when called apon. In fact, out of dress and the way I spoke to the judge, the only thing separating myself from the lawyers was the fact that I didn't have a jacket to go with my outfit. I was appalled and embarrassed by these people.
I am thankful that I have parents who took the time to teach my sisters and myself the downright important history of this God-blessed and God-created country and what our flag stands for.
That is why I was the ONLY American who walked into said courtroom with the upmost pride and respect for our country, wearing the proper attire. A nice white dress shirt, a tie (which I tied myself), slacks, dress shoes, a shaved face and a fresh haircut. And everything I spoke with the judge, I said, "Yes sir" and "No sir." And I gave him the respect that he and that courtroom deserved.
posted by Joel Casparek @ 12:49 AM
1 comments
