The old man was in the Big One--WWII. He was just a wild kid looking to get out of the hollers of Tennessee. He was the star catcher on his unit's (pack artillery) baseball team in New Guinea but volunteered for a "hazardous and dangerous mission" because he thought it would get him home sooner. Nah. He was one of three thousand Americans who went into Burmese jungles 1944. He was one of 600 who walked out. Most of his buddies succumbed to disease not to Japanese bullets. The old man only told me the funny stories about the war when I was growing up. The "big woman" in the bar in Washington state. The colonel who put on their first set of camouflage uniforms and bounced out through the trees shouting "can you see me now?" The goddamn mules. Going AWOL in India. Only when he started going back to his military reunions ten years ago, did he ever open up. Since then, he says, the lies get bigger every year. More mules below ...
I attended the last reunion with the old man and got email addresses for as many of the his buddies as I could and sent them messages afterwards, saying it was good to see them, if they needed anything, etc. Since then, one of the old man's buds has barraged me daily with rightwing span. We're talkin' spin--think of Repub nuclear centrifuge. I have dutifully deleted everything that did not have a personal slant (very few). After hanging out on DKos for a few months, I now feel the need to respond. No disrespect intended, bud. Tomorrow I am going to ask him what is more important--his beloved Constitution or an ammendment that mocks the Constitution. It's hard, you know. They were kids then. My father grew up. His buddy didn't.