The anti-gun / anti-freedom
jackals on Capitol Hill, aided by media allies, are now demonizing the
M-1 carbine (as well as the Garand and the M-1911A1) in an all out hysterical
attempt to kill the Murtha amendment, tacked onto a Treasury appropriations
bill, to allow for the importation of surplus M-1 carbines, Garands and
M-1911A1s. I will not sit on the sidelines and allow freedom haters to
demonize guns which my own family members (see below) carried with great
honor during World War II. Please read or reread this (now) timely message
and consider reforwarding it to your respective U.S. Representatives and
U.S. Senators with appropriate polite commentary attached.
- Anonymous
|
Hello, America.
I am talking to you not from
a podium occupied by some pontificating, freedom-fearing politician in
Washington, D.C., but from the quiet solitude of the Fort Knox gun safe
of my present owner, a heck of a nice guy, a resident of New Hampshire,
a state where the motto is "Live Free or Die". How fitting.
You see, as a semi-automatic
.30 caliber carbine manufactured in Saginaw, Michigan late during World
War II, I have paid my dues in defense of liberty. And then some. Yes,
I was the difference between life and death for American G.I.s who stormed
ashore at Normandy and raced across France to liberate Nazi death camps.
I was the essence of survival for cold, battle-weary soldiers and Marines
on lonely hills in Korea when Chinese bugles sounded and valleys below
me swarmed with enemy troops. Later, I traveled to Viet Nam and Cambodia
where I was loaned to village defense forces formed to fight off assaults
by Viet Cong and Khmer Rouge who took no prisoners and enjoyed "making
examples" out of village chiefs and their families. I saw my share of pain,
of grief, of suffering. But also, in the hands of honorable, brave men,
I saved the lives of many good people who were at risk of being struck
down by evil. I did my part when asked to do so. I saved lives. I kept
good and great people alive to return safely to the arms of their loved
ones. I still feel good about that. Really good.
My current owner reveres
my presence in his safe. Why? Because his late uncle died a hero with one
of my fellow carbines in his hands on a dusty North African hill in 1943.
His uncle, his carbine and his pistol saved the men under his command from
certain death, but he gave up his life in so doing. A grateful nation honored
him with a Distinguished Service Cross, a Silver Star and a Purple Heart.
My owner's late father also carried one of my fellow carbines ashore at
Omaha Beach and that semi-automatic beauty was his "girlfriend" until V-E
day. His "cutie". Perhaps now you will understand why my owner cares for
me with such passion and fervor. I am surely not an "assault weapon", an
inappropriate misnomer applied to semi-automatic firearms by Capitol Hill
know-nothings who fail to see the inexorable connection between me, honor
and honorable men whose hands have borne me in time of war and peace. I
am a powerful symbol of great deeds done by simple, honest men who loved
freedom, the U.S.A. and their families with all of their hearts.
Yes, I have seen combat.
But I have also stood guard at lonely outposts in the hands of homesick
soldiers, Marines, sailors and airmen who willingly went far away from
family and friends to insure that freedom endured. I have known the necessary
boredom and routine of peacetime military service. I have done my duty,
as have my assigned handlers, without complaint. Month after month, year
after year, I was there when America called. I answered that call. For
almost two generations. Weary though I was, I never failed my nation when
needed. And now my role may be family defense. That's fine with me. No
problem at all. I am ready. If needed. As usual.
After many years of
valiant service, fate brought me into the hands of my present owner, who
cried openly as he reviewed letters from G.I.s describing his late uncle's
heroic, futile efforts to fight off a horde of advancing Afrika Korps infantry,
using my brother carbine in that doomed effort. Even the fast firing action
of my brother carbine and a companion semi-automatic .45 ACP pistol could
not save my owner's uncle, but his comrades escaped to fight another day,
to bring down Hitler's horrific machine which brought death and destruction
to so many innocent people. Yes, we carbines were and are a hardy bunch.
We hated tyranny and we still do. As do our current owners.
Now, at rest in a gun safe, I can reflect
back on my years of service to my country, many battles in which my action
made the difference between life and death to many Americans, and I can
look forward to my "retirement" years. My owner knows that .30 caliber
semi-automatic carbines played an important part in his uncle's heroic
death and in his father's devoted service to God and Country. He has every
right to cry tears of remembrance as he every so often cleans my metal
and wood surfaces, fires me at a local range, or cleans my 15 and 30 round
magazines. Do not laugh at his tears, Bill Clinton, Sarah Brady and Chuck
Schumer! Merely hang your heads in utter shame that you do not understand
why he cries and, if you did, that you would not care.
So, America, this is
my tale. I am the so-called "assault weapon" about which Patrick Kennedy,
Chuck Schumer, Al Gore, Janet Reno and Bill Clinton were moaning and groaning
last week and every chance they get. Forget them, America. They are but
tragic fools who fail to value freedom. Remember me, America. Remember
what I have done, where I have gone, the men whose lives I have saved.
Remember why my owner cries when he ponders my role in his family's and
nation's history. The evil is not in my action, but in the hearts of those
freedom-haters who forget what I have done to preserve the lives of fine
Americans and to insure that freedom has remained intact. Forget Bill Clinton,
America. Remember me, and remember your fellow Americans who have borne
me, and still do so, with great pride and distinct honor, each and every
day of their lives.
Revised November 24, 1997