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I like my Dad will not lay down my arms
Carolyn Hileman
He sat in his foxhole and his thoughts turned to home, would Mom be frying chicken, had JC been taking care of his car and horse like he promised?
He thought of those carefree days with his buddies hanging out at the coffee shop on Spit and Whittle, ah those were the days, no real responsibilities, just school, the farm and the guys but those days are over now he thinks as a loud noise shakes him back to reality, ah the stories he would tell when he got back home.
Sometimes at home in his later years he would think back to those days in the foxholes, he would pull out the pictures, name the ones still living and the ones he said were the real heroes the ones who never came home.
He would always have to tell us why he went, why he lied about his age to join and why it was so important to stand up for your country and then the smell of fried chicken would jerk him back to reality once more.
It wasn’t long after Mom died that Alzheimer’s took him back to the foxholes and we were no longer able to bring him back to reality, My Dad, the American unsung hero was cursed to relive seeing his buddies die all over again, every day for the next ten years.
Now if he were still alive I would believe that he might prefer those memories to the reality of today. He would cringe to hear the words we support the troops but not the war and he would in his infinite wisdom tell you like he did us kids so many times that is like him saying he supports us kids but not what we are doing, he told us that if what we are doing is something to be ashamed of he would not support us or what we were doing but if what we were doing was for freedom or some noble cause he would be behind us 100% he said he never did anything half way and I suppose I got that from him.
My Dad also fought another war, a war to keep American jobs secure, he fought his company for twenty years to stop them from laying off good American workers in favor of cheaper, inexperienced labor that most times did not speak one word of English and made it hard for the American workers to train.
He watched as good people, hard workers were sent home and the new help was brought in, he was president of the union and he tried to throw benefits for those who had lost their jobs but after a while it was just too many and everyone else was afraid to be seen with him because everyone knew he was fighting the new labor tooth and nail and if they were seen with him their job might be next. I
remember my Mom telling him that he might want to stop fighting for a while and I remember that was the first time my Dad became very angry, to the point that he was yelling with tears streaming down his face, and this is what my Dad said: He said as the tears streamed down his face, what if I had just stopped fighting for a while when I was one of many who were fighting for this country?
What if I had just laid down my rifle and allowed those around me to do the fighting for me? What if every one of us did that? Would that have made us safer, yes. But it would not have made our country any safer. I did not put on a uniform, spend two years in the service of my country to come home and allow people from another country harm my fellow citizens.
They may not be being shot at, their wounds may not be apparent to you or others but they have been injured, injured to the soul.
Many of them can’t afford to buy groceries let alone afford Christmas; most of them never once dreamed that our country would turn its back on its own, but they have seen it and felt it and as long as there are American citizens doing without because of these people I will not lay down arms I will fight on.
I suppose that day was the day I started to understand what he meant by service to your country, it did not necessarily mean putting on a uniform but it did mean fighting till your last breath for the citizens of this country.
Now I have taken up his cause, admittedly only after the marches did I start to involve myself in this war, but I like my Dad will fight till the bitter end as long as there is one American citizen who is being replaced by people who come here illegally.
My Dad did not fight so that they could have everything written in Spanish, his friends did not die so that they could march in our streets and demand rights that are reserved for citizens only, our troops fighting now are not fighting so that we can have comprehensive immigration reform, the blood shed by Americas finest is shed for the American citizen.
The citizen forced to get food stamps to survive because Pedro will work for less, the citizen who is without and no one cares, the citizens who need us and until there are no more, I like my Dad will not lay down my arms…
In many of the threads I have said very similar things. My family history was documented by my grandmother and we have over 200 years of family lines helping to build America from the ground up. We started in the upper east coast with fabric mills and then spread out to where my grandmother was born in Oklahoma when it was still Indian territory.
I will not watch a 3rd world country illegally invade my country and turn it into the 3rd world country they left. Carolyn Hileman spoke for herself when she wrote the article - but she spoke for me and my family too!
My 78 year old mom was just telling me last week when we were discussing the TX Super Hwy - I might be old and not as strong as I once was but I will pick up your fathers shot gun and fight for this country - it is not up for them to just steal.
I thank God everyday that there are more and more of us willing to fight. I hope we are able to save America. She is was worth the fight for generation after generation and she still is.
