Independence Day (2009)

Visiting the country of Ivory Coast, its capital Abidjan, my guide and I were walking on the beach early on a beautiful morning. A young, personable, handsome black man came up to us and wanted to make our acquaintance because he recognized us being tourists. As is so often the case, they want to exercise their language. He spoke very good English and was very excited that a blind man would be visiting his country, particularly a blind man who knew something of history and could talk with him about American history. He made a statement which I have been trying to answer and perhaps I will be able to answer before my demise. He said, “In President George Washington's farewell address, in the last sentence he said, 'America will cease to be great if America loses its religion and morality.'” He said, “From the American movies I see, from the American publications I read, it seems to me that America has lost most of its religion, which is the basis of its morality.”

The celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776 was used as a day of celebration almost from the beginning with cannon firings in 1777 and even a double serving of rum by General Washington to his troops. President Washington, served this nation for 45 years as a general and as its first president. He was without dispute, the wealthiest man in America and probably the wealthiest president ever, but he once said, “I had rather be on my farm, than be emperor of the world.” Most presidents have been men of great character and tremendous wealth. Even though the third president, Thomas Jefferson, used the famous “Jefferson Bible” which he had cut out many things with which he did not agree, he still said, “I tremble about the thought of God's justice.”

The debate concerning the separation of Church and State, attributed to a letter sent by Jefferson to a Baptist group, centers only in the definite desire that this country never have a State Church, which our forefathers had escaped in England. Why bring back to the anvil time and time again things that have already been hammered? In patriotism, as in Christian giving, we can give without loving, but we can not love without giving. Our giving of our wealth to the church (God loves a cheerful giver) is the same as our willingness to support our government by our taxes, our talent, and even our lives.

Andrew Jackson, our seventh president said, “The Bible is the rock on which America rests.” It is significant that 39 of the 56 signers of the Declaration of Independence were Seminary graduates. President Truman was probably the last president of character and very much unlike the others; poor before the presidency and poor after the presidency. It is reported that he borrowed money to move back to Missouri from Washington and then had to sell his farm at Grand View, Missouri in order to live until the congress under Lyndon Johnson finally gave a $25,000 a year retirement to ex-presidents. Until then, the next president received no compensation at all and no secret service.

Truman, was a man of character which ALWAYS determines destiny. The diamond sets the standard for hardness. Truman, a Veteran of combat in WWI, like so many of my family, set the standard which I have tried to follow. Only love for God, Family and Country is the test for those who are willing to guard it. President Truman and his wife made a trip to the east for a speaking engagement in Philadelphia and he drove his car and they stayed at a hotel in New York without charge. I have said this, to point out, that there was a time when Americans, even presidents, served this nation for the patriotic duty and love of country and service. When Alexis de Tocqueville came to America from France in 1831 and traveled until 1835 returning to France to write his book Democracy in America he had many good things to say about this young, democratic republic. One thing we should never forget, he said, “America is great because she is good. If America ceases to be good, America will cease to be great.”

Abraham Lincoln, our sixteenth president, and perhaps in most respects, our greatest president, once said, “Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side, for God is always right.” This totally blind 100% disabled, service-connected, medical officer veteran can stipulate without apology, we have been a blessed nation, but God will judge us for accepting the perversions of homosexuality, pornography and abortion. We can be sure that God will judge this nation as a whole, we will all suffer because of the sins of many, but rejoice in the consolation that sins of the individual are judged for eternity.

Study the news, an arch is only as strong as the individual stones that support it. The supporting stones are being removed because of corruption and infidelity. Like putting holes into a ship, slowly the ship will sink. Before the Titanic left its berth in England, where it had been constructed, its engineer said, “Nothing will sink this ship.” On its maiden voyage, the ship is on the bottom of the ocean. We had thought we were too great to fail, many are changing their mind.

On this July fourth, as every July fourth, we honor the estimated 5 million Americans who have died defending this county. 126,000 Americans lie buried on foreign soil. I was at the 25th anniversary of the Normandy Invasion where 9,700 are buried and I have stood in that great military cemetery in the Philippines where nearly 18,000 are buried or Arlington where 256,000 are buried, including many of my relatives. You do not realize the sacrifice until you see all those white crosses in those cemeteries.

My mother never stopped talking about my grandfather's brother. Just a small time country boy reared in the same house in which my mother was born and raised, who rose in the Army to military officer's rank and served with President Theodore Roosevelt, as one of his assistants, in the Spanish-American War. He died soon after his return home. Though the Army spent little on officer's funerals at that time, he was brought to the country church which my parents, grandparents, and great grandparents had all attended, and my mother talked incessantly about the number of horses and buggies lined up and down the roads, the crowds, the guns firing to honor this one young man whose body was then put on a train and taken to Arlington. God, family, country was important to our ancestors.

The world's largest mass migration to the North American shores, a DESTINY from the religious tyranny and excessive taxation of Europe, was a Godsend to our founding forefathers who only wanted opportunity. They had risked everything in the revolution promise by freedom. One of my forebearers, Dr. Daniel Wiles of Northamptonshire, England, who arrived on the Good Ship Heist in 1677 and his first wife Elizabeth were the parents of my great, great, grandfather who later migrated to eastern North Carolina. (Attached, charcoal portraits of this great-grandfather and his wife) Until my parents died, they talked of two things which battered and thrilled their lives more than anything else. One, Hurricane Hazel which hit the coast in 1954 while I was away in the military; and the other, the annual Independence Day picnic which centered at the three-room school which both of my parents attended. This was the largest social occasion of the year for these country folks.

One of my uncles would take a wagon and team of mules to a nearby town, 10 miles away, and buy large blocks of ice which was used at the picnic for iced tea, milkshakes and even homemade ice cream. This was the only time in the entire year that these people had ice. There was a large athletic field behind the school, and there were ball games all day. The women of the community, under the great shade trees prepared large picnics as well as keeping up with all the family activities of the year. Often, the men were entertained by county and state politicians who would come making speeches and seeking votes.

The Independence Day picnic in this isolated country community was a time when even practices of segregation were forgotten. Various denominations (Baptist, Quaker, AME) and even those of different skin color would all come together for this celebration of patriotism. I can still remember, as a child, the divider down the middle of the church when the women would sit on one side, the men on the other and, each church, had a balcony in which the blacks would sit. Other than the Independence Day picnic, the only time all sat together was at a funeral. Perhaps from this we can learn much about church state relationships and how people can come together in times of sorrow as well as times of celebration.

In the Old Testament, as the shackled Joseph, sold to the Ishmaelites, on his way to Egypt, could look toward Hebron and see the lights of the city which was near his father Jacob's home. Many of us, have known the price of freedom. How well I remember, imagining the croaking of the frogs which always sang a symphony in the great cow pasture, the home where I was reared. In far away places, then, as all over the world, (I have traveled through 157 countries and been around the world 8 times) the lasting sounds and sights that mean most and that I still carry with me are my father's beautiful cows in the pasture, the sound of my father singing each morning as he did his chores around the farm before my mother got us up for breakfast, the always present Collie dogs barking as they thrilled to a new day. The price was paid by uncles, who had never been away from home, militarily sent to the far corners of the world, where they were so homesick and, on this Independence Day, think of the thousands who died thinking of home. I never knew one wounded, in a military hospital, who did not talk about home and mother. THIS IS THE PRICE OF FREEDOM.

The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me;
your love, O LORD, endures forever—
do not abandon the works of your hands.
Psalm 138:8

Please, dear God, do not abandon those who believe in your mercy.

A Veterans Salute to D-Day

On June 6, patriotic Americans will remember those brave young men who gave their last measure of devotion to this country.  This is the day which began the Normandy Landing initiating the Western Allied effort to liberate mainland Europe from Nazi occupation during World War II. However, many other invasions and operations had a designated D-Day, both before and after that operation.

I was in Europe for the 25th anniversary for the Normandy invasion.  Like most Americans attending the memorial we visited the cemeteries, the largest of which contains the remains of 9,387 American military dead. At that time, I had a shadow of vision in one eye and it was interesting to see older couples and some mothers and children being led by a military escort with a map to a grave in the cemetery, where most of them fell down beside the grave weeping.  This was their first contact with the fallen hero since being notified of his death. FREEDOM IS NOT FREE.

My most remarkable memory of recent wars, even more acute than my own personal experience, I was asked by the governor of the state and the state adjutant general, General Kapus Waynick (former ambassador to Guatemala) to attend a veterans meeting in San Antonio, Texas.  There were four 100% disabled veterans flying down in the governors plane (a propeller WWII relic) piloted by a retired Air Force colonel.  I remember very well the storms we encountered on the trip to Texas.  We stayed in a hotel near the Alamo and I shared a room with a most remarkable veteran.  He was a very devote Christian gentleman and one night after our prayer together he said, “I am going to share something with you that I have never shared with another living human being.”  I had already determined from his posture and movements that he was in constant pain and a very sick man.  He said, after the Normandy invasion, “I was subjected to an explosion which left me just a mass of physical and neurological metabolism.  Kept alive in a field hospital, until transferred to an American army facility, no one kept from me the fact that I was going to die.  My parents were too old and depleted in health to come to the hospital.  There was no other family member alive who could come and give any comfort.”

He said one night, he knew that death was near, because all of a sudden, his body became enveloped in an extreme coldness.  He said, “I DIED.”  He said, “Instantly there was a warmth, peace, happiness, and a beauty which no mind can describe.  My soul was blessed with the splendor of heaven. I saw the beauty beyond compare and the face of our blessed Lord, but all of a sudden deep in my soul came the thought, not yet, not yet.  And I was restored back to life.” He said, “I have seen it, I know it is real.  In a few weeks, the army arranged for me to be transported to my home several hundred miles away and I had the satisfaction of seeing the happiness of my parents.”  FREEDOM IS NOT FREE.

At the beginning of WWII, I was with my parents when they visited a distant cousin who, the young son of their old age, had just died in Europe.  The father, a cousin of my father, a former banker, had lost everything in the Great Depression.  He was in his mid 60’s but his second wife was in her early 40’s and they had one son.  The only time I ever saw the son was just before he left for Europe after a few weeks of basic training.  He was “sweet on” one of my cousins (my cousin Rose, now buried with her Air Force colonel husband in Arlington), went to our church before he left, he was only 17, very good looking, blond, in his uniform, he lasted 2 weeks after he arrived in Europe and is buried on that foreign soil.  I was with my parents when they visited this old couple, I remember, because I was always fascinated by beautiful wood and the wood in their old house staircase etc, was beautiful beyond words.  But, my parents said, they had never seen such grief.  FREEDOM IS NOT FREE.


There are several military cemeteries in Europe. The one I visited had 9,387 graves and I also visited the American military cemetery in the Philippians where nearly 18,000 are buried.  Arlington of course has 250,000.  One is never the same after visiting a military cemetery, after visiting a VA hospital, after visiting a family where photographs and a casket flag dominate the walls because even though “life goes on”, families of veterans know that the veteran only had one life also.  FREEDOM IS NOT FREE.

Preachers and churches are important.  The gospel of salvation, good works of faith and Christian endeavor, the teachings of absolutes of right and wrong, the very fabric that has kept this country together and made it great are important.  But not as important as veterans.

Teachers in our schools, professors in our colleges, research fellows in great institutions give us a better life, a more healthy existence. But not as important a veterans.

Laborers who build the barracks, manufacture the weapons, build the ships for christening and the planes for transportation, who are the back-bone of our economy on every level. But not as important as veterans.

Commentators who keep us informed, who try to expose and synthesize every action of government, shed light on the politicians and bureaucrat who have taken an oath for integrity. But not as important as veterans.

Entertainers, celebrities, TV personalities, comedians who can make you laugh, risk their lives and their possessions visiting the front lines on battlefronts all over the world attempting to bring some laughter, some memories of home, some appreciation for their gallantry, to those who made this sacrifice of time and talent. But not as important as veterans.

The contentment, the splendor, whatever joy you have in your existence has been paid for by those willing to defend YOUR country.  The American lifestyle, any enjoyment in your existence did not just happen, it has a costly history.  Only those who have seen the frozen bodies of their comrades stacked like cord wood, as was the case around the Chosin Reservoir in South Korea, know the true meaning of war.  Only a medical officer who has heard the screams of burn victims in an army hospital knows the true meaning of war.  Only when you have seen the destruction of a city, the cries of a family after their home and possessions were destroyed, will you realize the importance of peace. 

“There is a peace that thrills the heart,
the veterans knowledge that he has done his part. 
The country is waning, may slip and fall,
at the poles, at the plow, uniform in the closet still ready for the call.”
- Dr. Morris

Veteran's Day

My driver stopped near the intersection. He said, the police are holding up traffic because of a funeral. He described everything to me. I knew about the death, it had been on the news. The Church, one of the oldest in the state, used as a hospital during the Civil War was a gathering place for the “blue bloods” of the city. He said they slid the expensive casket out of the hearse and the widow who had followed him to Canada when he fled the city to escape the Vietnam draft, followed the casket into the church along with her daughter who was born in Canada, the two sons who were born after they returned here, grandchildren, etc. I wondered how many of the “well healed” people in the church remembered that he had left his country for Canada rather than to serve in the military. Since his family were people of great wealth, he could live there until the wars end, come back to the city and carry on the family tradition of “blue blood”, aristocratic, “big me, little you”, “country club” pretensions as he professed to love his country and serve his city.

After he had left the city for Canada with the blessings of his wealthy family, his high school sweetheart joined him there, they were married and had their first child in Canada. As was the case with Bill Clinton and so many others who preferred not the wear the uniform of the military service, he lived a life of charades. Always looking down at we mere mortals who were from the poor homes and life was a struggle both in the military and out.

Just a few weeks before, my driver had driven me down to Castle Street, which at one time, here in the city of Wilmington, North Carolina was the center of black commercial establishments. A black friend of mine, who called me often to lament the world conditions as a fellow veteran had told me that he wanted the hearse to drive down Castle Street from the funeral home to the National Cemetery after his final service. And, on that Sunday the hearse drove slowly down Castle Street with the flag covered casket of my friend, the grand finale of his life. His nickname was Weed, called that because he grew so fast as a child. (neither he nor his family realized that the founder of planned parenthood, the promoter of eugenics, Margaret Sanger, called all black people weeds.)

I had come to know Weed through “talk radio”. He knew I was a veteran and he called and paid tribute to me, he would actually weep over the radio in describing how America had treated him as a WWII veteran after combat in the Pacific. He had been reared here in the city. He told how he had shined David Brinkley's shoes as a young shoeshine boy. (Brinkley, famed newscaster was raised and is buried here). He told, how when he returned from the war in uniform he was ordered to the rear of the bus. He told, even though he had spent many years up north in college and working, he was treated with as much bigotry after serving his country as when he was a black boy on the streets here. He would weep telling of how much he wanted to come back here to live and this was the very thing that took him through combat in the pacific.

William Manchester, 100% disabled veteran, biographer of General Douglas MacArthur, has said, “Those who have not known war, have not worn the uniform, have little appreciation of those man enough to defend their country.”

During the Vietnam War, I was still being hospitalized with eye surgery. I am a totally blind 100% disabled veteran of the Korean era. Hospitalized at the VA hospital in Durham, I received surgery directly across the street at the Duke Eye Center. This was at the time of the protesters from UNC-CH (where I graduated) and Duke University. They would protest around the federal facilities such as the VA hospital. While on the second floor corner room of the Duke facility directly across from the VA a black nurse one morning, telling me how much she despised the military, just spat on me. My mother and sister arriving a little later after a long trip were preparing to get me out of the place when Dr Banks Anderson, assured them that such would never happen again.

FREEDOM IS NOT FREE. At my expense, I attended the 25^th anniversary of the Normandy Invasion. There are several large military cemeteries in France. The one I visited, had 7,900 white crosses. Again, at my expense, on a world trip I walked into the largest military cemetery in the world in the Philippines which has 18,000 white crosses. There are 126,000 of our finest Americans buried on foreign soil. In Arlington alone, in this country, there are 250,000 buried including some of my relatives. FREEDOM IS NOT FREE.

WWI was the war that was supposed to end all wars. 10 million people were killed in WWI, 21 years later WWII was fought when 60 million were killed. Five years later, in the Korean conflict 55,000 Americans lost their lives. Five years later, the beginnings of the long Vietnam struggle in which 58,000 Americans lost their lives. When you feel of the marble slabs in our nations capital, and run your hand over the engraved names, when you think of the mothers and fathers who gave up sons and daughters, wives and children who gave up a daddy who loved them very much you realize again and again, FREEDOM IS NOT FREE. There has only been a few months, in the history of mankind when a war was not being fought somewhere on the planet. The difference is, they have become more horrible. The DU factor now (depleted uranium) which coats the bullets for greater penetration of armor, suicide bombers and other technology of scientific discoveries (drones, etc) makes war almost unthinkable both for the warriors involved and the civilians.

I have seen the callous attitude in too many VA hospitals and have experienced enough of the worlds ingrates to last the remaining years of my life. A friend of mine, a top notched VA doctor talked with me privately in his private office. He said, “I stopped shedding tears long ago. But last week, I cried again. The aunt of a young man who had just returned from Iraq brought him here to the hospital. He had come home from a VA hospital. He still had wounds that were oozing puss. He had not received the care he should have received, not even antibiotics. I put him in the hospital here and hope to save his life.”

Just this past week, when we here the depressing details of just one medical officer, a Muslim psychiatrist, actually counseling returning veterans not to fight Muslims and then shooting his unarmed fellow soldiers fragging is given a bad name. Children are expelled for making a drawing of a gun in a public school. The elderly in wheel chairs, are abused before boarding a plane. Technology strips us naked at most federal facilities. Yet, that FBI military doctor and certainly his fellow citizens attending his Mosque, knew the hatred of this Army Major who not only wore the gold leaf of rank but the medical caduceus of health care, “to do no harm.” On this Veterans Day, we realize more than ever that political correctness is defeating our country. Character determines destiny. Our destiny is in question unless we have a complete reappraisal of our character.