The Freedom Fighter

North Korea and Red China would not allow him to rest. And at Inchon and a hundred individually unimportant hills with names we don’t remember he threw back the best they could offer. He flew Corsairs, B-26’s and a host of other planes that had been used in the previous war to support the men on the ground. In the air he met the MIG’s nose to nose with F-86’s and won except when they retreated across the Yellow River to sanctuary. He was restrained from winning. The victory was snatched from his grasp by his own leaders.

The tyranny of Communism took solace from this and he was to have no rest because the Viet Cong would enslave its neighbors. And although he fought bravely his leaders prevented a victory. His fellow countrymen tired of the war and he came home seemingly without honor. But there were those who shook his hand when he returned. Unlike their leaders, Hanoi Jane and her fellow travelers, anoHanopthey knew the sacrifice he made and the importance of it.

So during the seventies and eighties he was called many times to “limited engagements” to protect freedom. And sometimes his life was sacrificed with seemingly little gain.

Then in 1990 he was called again. Sadaam Hussein called him the great Satan. He flew stealth planes so new that this was their first blooding and SR-71’s and A-10’s that were so old that they were pulled from mothballs to fly. He flew the undetectable stealth bombers over Bagdad and returned unharmed. He flew the ugly but beautiful A-10 tank busters that were called obsolete. And the ground forces were there too. And when turned loose in just few days these men in the air and on the ground nullified Sadaam’s army at places like Medina Ridge. Under his skillful control the untested M1A was turned into a fearsome weapon the Iraqi’s called “Whispering Death.” And but for a few, he and she came home for in this battle American women who had in the past played seemingly secondary roles were there too.

The next eight years were a time of disrespect from his commander yet his services were called for as much as in any period by a leader who knew nothing of him.

Then Saddam refused to give up and he (and she) were called again. In tanks, planes and on the ground they swept across Iraq so fast that supplying those men and their machines was difficult. That job fell to the men and women of the National Guard, driving trucks to keep the advance moving. The terrible Iraqi roads were complicated by Iraqi irregulars who considered the trucks fair game. But they and their brothers at the front prevailed. Saddam and his statue fell to them.

But tyranny seems to know no bounds. In Iraq and in America there were forces to prevent victory. In Iraq they were men who would die to prevent the people from becoming free. And in America there were those who either had no stomach for victory or considered political fodder more important than freedom. These have cost lives of Americans and Iraqis by giving aid and comfort to the enemy. These are the ones who our warriors will have to overcome – and we will have to help them.

You ask, who is this formidable warrior? He and she are from ten thousand places, some with names we all know like New York City and Baton Rouge, and some like Morton Illinois, Idaville Pennsylvania, Northeast Maryland, Bentleyville North Carolina, and Fair Grove Missouri. When they return home they blend in with the rest of us and we tend to forget their bravery. But when the chips were down and there was a need for someone to stand up and be counted, they are there.

Thank God, they were there.