I was very fond of this house and everything around, and I want you to know – America is a great country, and I never betrayed it. On the contrary, it betrayed others, those who fed the octopus with human flesh. I’m probably speaking a little chaotically, but you will understand later. Now I come back to my childhood.
I remember one time when I was about eight or nine. It snowed – and snow is not the most frequent winter guest in North Carolina. The snow fell hard, forming real snow drifts, like in Canada. And, of course, everyone was delighted, children and adults, and for all the town it was like another Christmas, especially since it was Sunday.
That day Pa had a day off, and we all ran out into the yard and began to play snowballs. We didn’t just throw snowballs at each other, though; we imitated the assault of Umurbrogal mountain on Peleliu Island during the fight for the Palau archipelago (The Battle of Peleliu is the World War 2 battle of late 1944 that is featured in the video game Call of Duty. It was a controversial engagement because of the high loss of American lives for no huge strategic advance. Moreover, Major General William Rupertus, (USMC commander of 1st Marine Division) promised it would be over in four days – it lasted over two months) !
Pa had often told us about this operation in World War II in which his father’s elder brother took part – and always quoted vice admiral Sherman (not the one who used to beat confederates, another one). He learned Sherman’s words from schooclass="underline" ‘The steep slopes of this hill were broken up by strange edges and spokes, and marked, like a grid, by a system of caves. Our foe had used the area with devilish ingenuity and created such a strong position that the American marines still hadn’t managed to take it. Among the maze of rocks the distance moved by the army in an entire week was measured in yards and feet.
On these islands, thousands of Americans died because the Japanese had created such tough fortifications here. They’d dug through the earth and rocks, made caves into bunkers, set guns and machine guns everywhere, and were so prepared it was as if they wanted to beat off the army of the Apocalypse. All the same our marines managed in the end to pick the Samurais out from their holes and dens and set up the American flag on Umurbrogal’s top.
The role of Umurbrogal was played for us by an old pickup truck filled up with snow. Pa got inside and became all the Japanese at once, and the rest of us – Mom, Judith and me – were our marines, attacking in three parties. It was terrific. I even had a flag to raise! A real American flag, though not very big.
Gee, it was so tough breaking through to that pickup truck! Snowballs flew. Everybody was covered in snow. There wasn’t a dry place left on me, nor the others. Pa was standing in the truck driving us off like a multi-armed Shiva god, laughing at the top of his voice with horrible samurai laughter!
But then finally he gave us a chance to get closer. And as we moved in we managed to plaster him in snow and tumble him in a snowdrift. Then I solemnly set the American flag on the pickup roof. We started singing the anthem, and Pa climbed out of the snowdrift and joined in.
But right then I burst into sobs. Real hysterics. I cried in great spasms. Mom stroked me in the face, and Judith wet my head.
Everyone thought that it was because in the middle of the fight Pa had caught me on the nose so hard with a snowball that my nose started to bleed. But no, I endured that bravely and Pa even said I was a real soldier, that I was no worse than the heroes of the fight for Palau and that he was proud he had such a son.
But actually I was crying for another reason. If Pa hadn’t given in, we would never have captured the pickup and set the flag on the roof. So it turned out that our fight for Palau was won not by America, but Japan. At that time, this idea was for me simply impossible and even intolerable.
I can’t even imagine what it feels like for people of countries which have lost a war, been occupied or lost independence. To be a citizen of this unlucky country dooms you to a sad existence, to become an outsider, and with no way to improve the situation quickly.
In sport, even if you or your team lose, there is always a chance to strain muscles, to gather your will in your hands and to achieve a new result, to achieve a victory. We are taught this at school from the earliest age. To be successful, to be a winner, is the ultimate goal in life – only this way can you become the master of your own fate.
For this reason, I am grateful to God that I was born in the United States – in the richest, happiest and safest country of the world. Naturally, I love my country. That’s not sentimental at all. I don’t understand how it could be any different and I was actually surprised to learn that in other countries there are people that despise their Homeland.
It wasn’t for nothing that the Lord granted human beings freedom of choice in everything in life – everything except for the three things given us from above: country, family and race. They can’t be chosen. These are the choice of God and people have to be proud of His choice whichever it is. Only like this can you live constructively and work.
Work – in particular, hard work – built a small group of settlements into the strongest and most powerful state on the planet in two hundred years.
Work, money and capital are the basis of freedom. Only a wealthy man is really free. The pitiful runaway and the poor derelict without a cent to his name will be slaves forever. The beliefs of the pilgrim father’s told them: ‘Work, create, fight to find your house and to become the owner of it!’ They trusted, they worked, they fought…
But I got it. Americans are essentially immigrants – and they include many who came to the States to work for a better life. And these Americans have become the ones who worked, who believed in freedom and were ready to make any sacrifice for the sake of it.
Of course, if you think about it, it’s all completely logical and corresponds to a success algorithm – people with initiative aim for a beacon of success and prosperity just like moths are lured to a light.
Anyway, the USA is a unique or rare phenomenon on our planet. Once again: I want everyone to know, I am proud of the fact that I am an American and that I am honoured to fight to make my Homeland an even more free and happy country.
When I was a child, we often played Elvis Presley’s recording of ‘America the Beautiful’. I remember the lyrics so welclass="underline"
I am ready to stand by every word in there. That’s all. Enough of that.
My first and probably only early childhood friend was Ron Stout, though nobody called him that. To residents of Elizabeth City where we lived then, he was known as ‘The Iron Hand’. No that’s not an Indian name at all, though there were enough of them in North Carolina in earlier times.
The truth is Ron’s father was a mechanic, or more precisely, the owner of an auto repair shop attached to the gas station, you know, just an ordinary gas station with a big Shell banner over the entrance. So he had a big tin shed, with lots of machines, devices and tools. And, well, Ron had spent all his time there since childhood, tinkering with all these pieces of iron, always twisting something, soldering, drilling and welding. And once he made an iron hand for himself as the Terminator in the old movie, and even went to church with it – where he ripped the deputy mayor’s new suit when it got hooked. That’s why ever after Ron was nicknamed The Iron Hand.