"This we'll defend." Only those of us who have been in
the Army know the true meaning of those words; not just an
idle phrase, nor common utterance out of necessity, but blood
running in our veins and arteries; our thoughts and our
being; sweat running from our bodies as we fulfill those
words; the food we eat, our regenerating sleep; all for those
words.
I was recently at a federal building in this city when I
crossed the path of a member of another government agency. I
heard him say in my direction, "This country doesn't have to
happen."
I did not need to hear that, as it is second nature for me
to do what I have to do, with the above opening words of this
report constantly on my mind. He apparently needed to say what
he did, because of the environment he was working in; possibly
because of the feeling of some rivalry by me; or maybe he thought
that I needed it; possibly because of the inspiration of, but he
should have known my thinking by the Garryowen, saber through
horseshoe, on my belt buckle.
This agent must not have been thinking of the many
military installations around this country; how could he not?
Perhaps he was just a concerned citizen who spent all of his
life making this country work.
Military installations are the structural framework for
our security. A cleansing of our souls through discipline and
depravation to accomplish the mission; bringing us close to
our spirit, the enemy, and our commanding officer. Yet even
with this, our country can be rotting in the flesh. Where I
am I see Neptune degenerating youth and destroying our cities
and towns.
This is not a new problem, it is age-old. The Roman
Empire ceased to exist because of alliances with others to
fight for them. When our youth and populace are no longer
concerned with the essentials of managing our country, the
enemy surely will.
Before I was completely cured of roundball I attended the
1984 Army-Navy Game, which was held in Pasadena, CA for the
first time away from its usual locations near those service
academies. Before the game I made a point of speaking to the
Army Rangers just back from Grenada, and to the cadets, as
they came down to get food and drink.
Unlike the Rangers who were now veterans, and whom I only
praised for a job well done, the cadets were of interest to
me because they were becoming soldiers. I asked them how they
liked the Academy, how long they had to go until they
graduated, and maybe what they thought about whatever came up
in the conversation. I did not delay them very long, and I
spoke to quite a few groups.
At the end of the each discussion I would wish them good
luck for their careers, and the game. Off to the side a voice
came from the cadre officer instructors whom I saw out the
corner of my eye, and that they were observing.
"If you're going to be like that why don't you go over to
the other side." I had never heard anything like that before,
but I instantly knew what they meant: in the Army we achieve
our endeavors through hard work and training.
Probably because of my intense enthusiasm I was able to
get out of there with a salutation in the distance from those
officers of, "Cav!" and they really did not know. I never
looked back after that on that subject. As my Fort Dix, basic
training, D.I. helper, cadre P.F.C. with a Cav patch and a
C.I.B, from New Jersey, used to say, "O.K. youze guys."
The only other thing that I can think of not hoping for
is, "If wishes were horses beggars would ride." So let us,
Army, not wish or hope for anything, because, "...that's the
fearless Army way."
The extreme and flawless professionalism of West Point
graduates has impressed and commanded me to the best that I
could be. We, having been in the Army, can all say this. Where
would we be without the knights of the Hudson leading us into
battle and demanding our training as it is; demanding the
exacting standards as they are.
It has only been through reading about our 1\9 Cavalry
scouts in Vietnam that I learned of the combat reference to
these West Point professionals as "ring knockers." Professionals
referring to professionals; only the best could. I am sure
that our professional soldiers can handle the challenge,
anytime, the same as defeating any enemy.
At the 1991 1st Cavalry Division Reunion just before
leaving, I was approached by an associate about whether or
not I would make it to the 1992 Reunion. In the presence of
two of our outstanding retired generals, with cavalry
Stetsons pulled to their eyes and stars up front, shinning
white light, in the foyer of the beautiful Killeen Sheraton,
I wanted to think positively, as I usually do.
Appropriately I said, "Yes, unless I run into a regiment
of N.V.A." Knowing at that time that my finances were at
their worst since E.T.S., I nonetheless had a goal.
I am remorseful that supposition virtually transpired-
that ain't emotional war talk, is it-and I did not make it to
the 1992 Reunion. I am not remorseful, however, like some
Veterans Administration employee war protestor-which I
experienced-would like me to be, for killing the enemies of
the United States-First Team, hoo-ah; and I might add,
contribute to democracy and the self determination of a
people in their homeland.
From an earlier time, the words of another cavalryman,
George Armstrong Custer: "I am in favor of elevating the
negro to the extent of his capacity and intelligence, and of
doing everything in our power to advance them morally and
mentally as well as physically, also socially. But I am
opposed to making this advance by correspondingly debasing
any portion of the white race. As to trusting the negro of
the Southern States with the most sacred and responsible
privilege-the right of suffrage-I should as soon think of
elevating an Indian Chief to the Popedom of Rome."
The observations of this scout are not necessarily those
expressed by the First Cavalry Division Association. Mike
Bodnar, is a combat veteran of 1st Plt., C 2\7 Cav., 1969,
the a.a.p., 1970, 1st Cavalry Division.