The beginning of the 1940s was a fearful time for those who loved freedom. France collapsed in a matter of weeks, falling to the German Blitzkrieg. Britain was only saved by the astonishing valour of a tiny group of aerial Knights, charging their noble steeds (Spitfires in particular) into the teeth of Hermann Goering's Luftwaffe. Churchill put it in typically Churchillian terms when he said that never had so many owed so much to so few. As with most things said by Sir Winston, they were very well said indeed.
But the darkness continued to pour forth, with the end of 1941 seeing the fascists at the gates of Moscow, the American Pacific fleet smouldering in Pearl Harbor, and the seemingly unstoppable Imperial Japanese going from victory to victory: Thailand, Hong Kong, Guam, Wake Island, Burma, the Dutch East Indies, the Philippines.
In both theaters, races of Supermen looked down on their opponents. The Germans, lost in the heady brew of victory, saw their Soviet opponents not just as lesser menchen, but as barely human. The soldiers of the Rising Sun looked upon their American opponents as undisciplined and ripe for a comeuppance.
They were half right. Americans have always been undisciplined. An old story from Colonial America describes a visiting English Lord. Looking for the local gentry, he happens upon a man hard at work at his forge. Frustrated at being ignored by the man, he exclaims, "You, there. Where is your master?" The man looks him up and down, spits tobacco not quite at the Englishman's feet, and growls, "That sumbitch ain't been born yet."
And so it was in the 1940s. The undisciplined Americans joined together to drive two races of Supermen to their knees. That "lack of discipline" was a creativity that showed itself under fire, as GIs took charge, adapted and improvised, and out thought the over confident foeman. It was a typically American response, one that lives today.
I am proud to say that I know someone who has built a .50 BMG rifle in his garage. I sure would have liked to be at the Dallas Area Blogshoot 2.0 to try the new and improved model. The tinkering by what the "elites" might very well miss in their typical too-smart-by-half cursory glance is precisely why we clobbered the enemies of freedom, these seventy years ago. Don't Mess With Texas, indeed.
And I'm also proud to say that I know someone who has built a cannon in his garage. Sadly, I missed both blog shoots, but he too represents the Live Free Or Die American exceptional spirit that saw us through those dark days, and which will serve us well in these dark days.
Because if we could stare down two fanatical races of Supermen, Barack Obama and his Harvard crowd are nothing. Bravo Zulu. Gentlemen. Bravo Zulu.