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Raised believing the American Dream - unquestioned.
Raised on the ridge above the "Company Store," the Pentagon, listening to the cannons planting our dead heroes at Arlington every Wednesday, until 'Nam cranked up and they added Saturday plantings.
Walked through the west entrance of the National Military Cemetery's Memorial Amphitheater on November 11, 1963, with my Dad in Dress Blues, Mom, and sibs, and first saw its inscription: "'Dulce et Decorum est Pro Patria Mori." How true, how true.
President Kennedy attended with his son but, under the weather, didn't address the Veterans' Day Observance. He had ordered our military withdrawal from Vietnam, orders had been cut and units had already shipped to Guam.
Eleven days later, CIA colonel E. Howard Hunt took a team under the supervision of GHW Bush, and Richard Nixon, and murdered him after 120 of us had died fighting whig Jeffersonian Ho Chi Minh on behalf of the Roman Anti-Christ's South East Asian branch of their global latifundium, whose leader, Nguyen Cao Ky bragged on a London BBC radio broadcast that Hitler was his "hero," as the good Roman Catholic he was.
Joined the Army in 1968 and my eyes began opening.
Now I know G-d has blessed Creation with America but that it is only We, The People, who can "weed" this "Garden of the World."