Stand Up for America Rally Speech
By Beth Chapman
(Editor's Note: This speech was given recently by Mrs. Beth Chapman, Auditor for the State of Alabama, and resulted in five standing ovations, tremendous applause, and an encore.)
I'm here tonight because men and women of the United States military have given their lives for my freedom. I am not here tonight because Sheryl Crowe, Rosie O'Donnell, Martin Sheen, George Clooney, Jane Fonda or Phil Donahue, sacrificed their lives for me.
If my memory serves me correctly, it was not movie stars or musicians, but the United States Military who fought on the shores of Iwo Jima, the jungles of Vietnam, and the beaches of Normandy. Tonight, I say we should support the President of the United States and the U.S. Military and tell the liberal, tree-hugging, Birkenstock-wearing, hippy, tie-dyed liberals to go make their movies and music and whine somewhere else.
After all, if they lived in Iraq, they wouldn't be allowed the freedom of speech they're being given here today. Ironically, they would be put to death at the hands of Sadam Hussein or Osama Bin Laden. I want to know
how the very people who are against war because of the loss of life, can possibly be the same people who are for abortion? They are the same people who are for animal rights but against the rights of the unborn.
The movie stars say they want to go to Iraq and serve as "human shields" for the Iraqis. I say let them buy a one-way ticket and go.
No one likes war. I hate war! But the one thing I hate more is the fact that this country has been forced into war-innocent people have lost their lives - - and there but for the grace of God, it could have been my
brother, my husband, or even worse my own son.
On December 7, 1941, there are no records of movie stars treading the blazing waters of Pearl Harbor.
On September 11, 2001; there are no photos of movie stars standing as "human shields" against the debris and falling bodies ascending from the World Trade Center. There were only policemen and firemen - -underpaid
civil servants who gave their all with nothing expected in return.
When the USS Cole was bombed, there were no movie stars guarding the ship -- where were the human shields then?
If America's movie stars want to be human shields, let them shield the gang-ridden streets of Los Angeles, or New York City, let them shield the lives of the children of North Birmingham whose mothers lay them down to
sleep on the floor each night to shelter them from stray bullets.
If they want to be human shields, I say let them shield the men and women of honesty and integrity that epitomizes courage and embody the spirit of freedom by wearing the proud uniforms of the United States Military. Those are the people who have earned and deserve shielding!
Throughout the course of history, this country has remained free, not because of movie stars and liberal activists, but because of brave men and women who hated war too. However, they lay down their lives so that we
all may live in freedom. After all - "What greater love hath no man, that he lay down his life for his friend," or in this case a country.
We should give our military honor and acknowledgement and not let their lives be in vain. If you want to see true human shields, walk through Arlington Cemetery. There lie human shields, heroes, and the BRAVE
Americans who didn't get on television and talk about being a human shield - they were human shields.
I thank God tonight for freedom - - those who bought and paid for it with their lives in the past - - those who will protect it in the presennt and defend it in the future.
America has remained silent too long! God-fearing people have remained silent too long!
We must lift our voices united in a humble prayer to God for guidance and the strength and courage to sustain us throughout whatever the future may hold.
After the tragic events of Sept. 11th, my then eleven year-old son said terrorism is a war against them and us and if you're not one of us, then you're one of them.
So in closing tonight, let us be of one accord, let us stand proud, and let us be the human shields of prayer, encouragement and support for the President, our troops and their families and our country.
May God bless America, the land of the free, the home of the brave and the greatest country on the face of this earth!
The American Infantryman
The average age of the
infantryman is 19 years.
He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is
considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not
old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country.
He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than
wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued
some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady
girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to
be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm
Howitzers.
He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working
or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field
strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and
use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit
or individual dignity.
He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the
other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If
you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food.
He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run
low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his
hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find
ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have
in his short lifetime.
He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and
is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at
rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those
around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop
talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their
right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the
price for our freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not a boy.
He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200
years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his
blood.
Message from England
No matter what your views on President Bush's statement of the then-upcoming
war, this, from an English journalist, is very interesting. Just a word of
background for those of you who aren't familiar with the UK's Daily Mirror. This
is a notoriously left-wing daily that is normally not supportive of the
Colonials across the Atlantic.
Tony Parsons ... Daily Mirror ... September 11, 2002
One year ago, the world witnessed a unique kind of broadcasting -- the mass
murder of thousands, live on television. As a lesson in the pitiless cruelty of
the human race, September 11 was up there with Pol Pot's Mountain of Skulls in
Cambodia, or the skeletal bodies stacked like garbage in the Nazi concentration
camps. An unspeakable act so cruel, so calculated and so utterly merciless that
surely the world could agree on one thing - nobody deserves this fate. Surely
there could be consensus: The victims were truly innocent, the perpetrators
truly evil.
But to the world's eternal shame, 9/11 is increasingly seen as America's
comeuppance.
Incredibly, anti-Americanism has increased over the last year. There has always
been a simmering resentment to the USA in this country; too loud, too rich, too
full of themselves, and so much happier than Europeans -- but it has become an
epidemic. And it seems incredible to me. More than that, it turns my stomach.
America is this country's greatest friend and our staunchest ally. We are bonded
to the US by culture,
language and blood. A little over half a century ago, around half a million
Americans died for our freedoms, as well as their own. Have we forgotten so
soon? And exactly a year ago, thousands of ordinary men, women and children --
not just Americans, but from dozens of countries - were butchered by a small
group of religious fanatics. Are we so quick to betray them? What touched the
heart about those who died in the Twin Towers and on the planes, was that we
recognized them. Young fathers and mothers, somebody's son and somebody's
daughter, husbands, wives, and children, some unborn.
And these people brought it on themselves? Their nation is to blame for their
meticulously planned slaughter? These days you don't have to be some
dust-encrusted nut job in Kabul or Karachi or Finsbury Park to see America as
the Great Satan.
The anti-American alliance is made up of self-loathing liberals who blame the
Americans for every ill in the Third World, and conservatives suffering from
power-envy, bitter that the world's only superpower can do what it likes without
having to ask permission.
The truth is that America has behaved with enormous restraint since September
11.
Remember ... remember.... remember ... the gut-wrenching tapes of weeping men
phoning their wives to say, "I love you," before they were burned alive.
Remember those people leaping to their deaths from the top of burning
skyscrapers. Remember the hundreds of firemen buried alive.
Remember the smiling face of that beautiful little girl who was on one of the
planes with her mum.
Remember .... remember ... And realize that America has never retaliated for
9/11 in anything like the way it could have.
So a few al-Qaeda tourists got locked up without a trial in Camp X-ray?
Pass the Kleenex ....
So some Afghan wedding receptions were shot up after they merrily fired their
semi-automatics in a sky full of American planes? A shame, but maybe next time
they should stick to confetti.
AMERICA could have turned a large chunk of the world into a parking lot. That it
didn't is a sign of strength. American voices are already being raised against
attacking Iraq -- that's what a democracy is for. How many in the Islamic world
will have a minute's silence for the slaughtered innocents of 9/11? How many
Islamic leaders will have the guts to say that the mass murder of 9/11 was an
abomination?
When the news of 9/11 broke on the West Bank, those freedom-loving Palestinians
were dancing in the street. America watched all of that -- and didn't push the
button.
We should thank the stars that America is the most powerful nation in the world.
I still find it incredible that 9/11 did not provoke all-out war. Not a "war on
terrorism." A real war. The fundamentalist dudes are talking about "opening the
gates of hell" if America attacks Iraq.
Well, America could have opened the gates of hell like you wouldn't believe. The
US is the most militarily powerful nation that ever strode the face of the
earth. The campaign in Afghanistan may have been less than perfect and the
planned war on Iraq may be misconceived.
But don't blame America for not bringing peace and light to these wretched
countries. How many
democracies are there in the Middle East, or in the Muslim world? You can count
them on the fingers of one hand -- assuming you haven't had any chopped off for
minor shoplifting.
I love America, yet America is hated. I guess that makes me Bush's poodle...
But I would rather be a dog in New York City than a Prince in Riyadh.
Above all, America is hated because it is what every country wants to be rich,
free, strong, open, optimistic. Not ground down by the past, or religion, or
some caste system. America is the best friend this country ever had and we
should start remembering that.
Or do you really think the USA is the root of all evil? Tell it to the loved
ones of the men and women who leaped to their death from the burning towers.
Tell it to the nursing mothers whose husbands died on one of the hijacked
planes, or were ripped apart in a collapsing skyscraper. And tell it to the
hundreds of young widows whose husbands worked for the New York Fire Department.
To our shame, George Bush gets a worse press than Saddam Hussein. Once we were
told that Saddam gassed the Kurds, tortured his own people and set up rape-camps
in Kuwait. Now we are told he likes Quality Street. Save me the orange center,
Oh Mighty One!
Remember .... remember ... September 11. One of the greatest atrocities in human
history was committed against America. No, do more than remember. Never forget.
A fighter jock is quite a phenomenon. He loves flying (single seats only), especially aerobatics, gunnery and cross-countries. He has a strange fascination for playing practical jokes, telling stories, playing ping-pong, and breaking glasses. His favorite hiding place is a dark, cool corner of the Officers Club or behind a pair of dark glasses. He is capricious. To amuse himself, he may fire 'practice flares' from runway mobile control, throw empty cans down Officer' Quarters corridors, or just become generally obnoxious. His favorite conversation revolves around continuous chatter concerning flying, odd facts, and interesting people.
He has an aversion for survival training, bomber pilots, mobile control duty, Airdrome Officer duty, and overextended fighter alert duty. He tolerates ankle biters (other than his own) and has an overwhelming hatred for bingo. While flying, whenever possible, he avoids stormy weather, ice-covered runways, lost radio contact, engine flameouts, and using the ejection seat. He would rather face a firing squad than be caught pushing a baby carriage or carrying an umbrella. At the mention of matrimony he becomes a catatonic schizophrenic.
A fighter pilot is a composite. He has the nerves of a robot, the audacity of Dennis the Menace, the lungs of a platoon sergeant, the vitality of an atomic bomb, the imagination of a science-fiction writer, the glibness of a diplomat, and he is a paragon of wisdom with a wealth of assorted, completely irrelevant facts. (However, you'll need him on your side when playing Trivia Pursuit). When he tries to make an impress-ion, either his brain turns to mud or he alters into a strange creature bent on destroying the world and himself with it.
Who else can cram into one flying suit: check lists, maps, Zeus fastener openers, two bullets, check lists, a dollar novel, knives, guns, flares and snares, a flashlight, check lists, nylon cording, fish hooks, pencils, pens, leather gloves, check lists, deck of cards, wallet, keys, a lucky talisman, check lists...and a chunk of unknown substance.
At home with is wife, he is docile, sweet, tender, loving, friendly, and a straight arrow all the way, except when they're fighting and he converts into a tyrannical despot who is suspicious, diabolical and just ain't got no couth. As a father, he is tough, helpful, often kind, protective, farsighted and really proud of the kid (although he will rarely display it in public).
In the air, however, he's calculating and confident. His voice gruff and steely cool (an acquired characteristic regardless how he feels inside), pierces the garbled airways, barking terse commands. On the hunt he becomes a different person ..scanning with the eyes of a falcon, blessed with the reactions of a cat, the instincts of a barracuda, the cunning of a fox...and a unique ability to completely rotate his head 360 degrees on all axis. When approaching the target, mind and metal fuse and destruction of the enemy is sure and precise as Euclidian geometry. Steel and fire split the icy atmosphere as he basks in a private moment of truth.
After the mission he's tired, thirsty, dirty, sweat-soaked and bedraggled. His hair matted with helmet rat snarls, fresh oxygen mask scars etched on a red face, he knows he has beaten the Grim Reaper one more time. Then, with the oily odor of JP-4 fuel clinging to a salt-encrusted flying suit, he'll unleash that shiny eyed-smile and miraculously regenerate into a critical mass with a flurry of hands, arms, legs and body english that stuns his sometimes imbibed cohorts with tales of 'hairy' deeds done that day.
A fighter pilot is a magic, master impostor Houdini with the top of his uniform blouse unbuttoned. Sometimes he looks old...sometimes he looks very young; immature... but strangely sage. He is instant fear and lasting bravery and an instant metamorphosis..hovering between play and business. He's present, past, and the future rolled into one. But most of all he's got wings..with the throttle in his left hand and the control stick in his right...shackled to a multimillion dollar kerosene blow torch ..always ready to squeeze the maximum out of every hour of every day.
Captain Ford Smart, USAF
[abridged]
Charles Plumb was a U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.
One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!"
"How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb.
"I packed your parachute," the man replied.
Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude.
The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!"
Plumb assured him, "It sure did. If your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today."
Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said 'Good morning, how are you?' or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."
Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know.
Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory -- he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety.
Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason.
As you go through this week, this month, this year, recognize people who pack your parachute. I am sending you this as my way of thanking you for your part in packing my parachute!!! And I hope you will send it on to those who have helped pack yours!
Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word, maybe this could explain: When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? --- You forward jokes.
And to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get ? --- A forwarded joke.
So my friend, next time if you get a joke, don't think that you’ve been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today by your friend on the other end.
Pre-Battle Speech by Lieutenant Colonel Tim Collins given to the men of the 1st Battalion, Royal Irish Guards, on war alert in Kuwait Wednesday, 19th of March, 2003, that has caused quite a stir in Britain.
We go to liberate, not to conquer. We will not fly our flags in their country. We are entering Iraq to free a people and the only flag which will be flown in that ancient land is their own. Show respect for them.
There are some who are alive at this moment who will not be alive shortly. Those who do not wish to go on that journey, we will not send. As for the others I expect you to rock their world. Wipe them out if that is what they choose.
But if you are ferocious in battle remember to be magnanimous in victory. Iraq is steeped in history. It is the site of the Garden of Eden, of the Great Flood and the birthplace of Abraham. Tread lightly there.
You will see things that no man could pay to see and you will have to go a long way to find a more decent, generous and upright people than the Iraqis. You will be embarrassed by their hospitality even though they have nothing.
Don't treat them as refugees for they are in their own country. Their children will be poor, in years to come they will know that the light of liberation in their lives was brought by you.
If there are casualties of war then remember that when they woke up and got dressed in the morning they did not plan to die this day. Allow them dignity in death. Bury them properly and mark their graves. We will put them in their sleeping bags and send them back. There will be no time for sorrow.
The enemy should be in no doubt that we are his nemesis and that we are bringing about his rightful destruction. There are many regional commanders who have stains on their souls and they are stoking the fires of hell for Saddam. He and his forces will be destroyed by this coalition for what they have done. As they die they will know their deeds have brought them to this place. Show them no pity.
It is a big step to take another human life. It is not to be done lightly. I know of men who have taken life needlessly in other conflicts, I can assure you they live with the mark of Cain upon them.
If someone surrenders to you then remember they have that right in international law and ensure that one day they go home to their family. The ones who wish to fight, well, we aim to please.
If you harm the regiment or its history by over enthusiasm in killing or in cowardice, know it is your family who will suffer. You will be shunned unless your conduct is of the highest for your deeds will follow you down through history. We will bring shame on neither our uniform or our nation.
It is not a question of if, it's a question of when. We know he has already devolved the decision to lower commanders, and that means he has already taken the decision himself. If we survive the first strike we will survive the attack.
As for ourselves, let's bring everyone home and leave Iraq a better place for us having been there. Our business now is north.