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Remembering that time as a VN Vet, there is a lingering thought of washing off the stench of abandonment, redeemed upon reenlisting in '82 w/12th Grp. The sense of pride of putting on a uniformed again that had been stripped away by a society and government that that had no value for young men returning home, disillusioned, somewhat rudderless. Regan was my father, my uncles, all the WW2 generation vets, that served and love their country and who understood the precarious realm that freedom ruled and how fragile the idea and the price paid for that freedom.
I remember the dinner table stories that honored their friends, people I had never met, Red's Gilday, Marine, my mothers sister sweetheart, 19 years old, dying in a foxhole on Guadalcanal, surrounded by 30 dead Japanese, having run out of ammo, one of many rememberance that instilled love, honor, and duty into our young consciousness.
All that is lost now, the country we have served and loved is possibly gone. Decision will have to be made by those who are willing to confront these tyrants in the only manner they understand.
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