Idealism
is a disease of childhood and young adulthood, I suppose.
I was as starry-eyed as any then - more so perhaps than some
- and my memories of things I once thought possible are often
painful in the face of things that have come to be.
At
the tender age of 19 I was offering up my flesh as a barrier
between free Europeans and the Commie hoards who would overrun
and absorb them if they could. I had enlisted in the not-yet-all-volunteer
Army right out of high school with the expectation of being
sent to the jungles of Vietnam, but that war "ended"
before I completed my secondary training. Germany was the
primary destination of the American soldier back then, as
it was our presence alone that kept the forests and gingerbread
villages of that beautiful country from once again becoming
a bloody, bombed-out battleground.
Germany
was the frontier, the last stand; the no-man's land between
the free people of Western Europe and the slavery of Communism.
Little more than a boy, I stood, on a gray misty morning,
staring through cold binoculars across a narrow expanse of
cleared land that was defined by parallel barbed-wire fences,
and into the eyes of a young East German soldier gazing back
at me. The short expanse of forbidden land that separated
those two soldiers was to my mind an unfathomably wide gulf,
and the thought of what it represented sent an involuntary
shudder through my body that I couldn't account for by the
chill morning air alone.
As
distant as I felt my world to be from that of the young East
German soldier on the dark side of the fence, I became that
close to the young people there on the free side. Many of
my fellow soldiers felt and acted like the foreigners that
they were and rarely ventured outside of our walled military
compound. I, on the other hand, was overwhelmed with the excitement
and awed by the very thought of being on foreign soil. On
my first day in country I headed out, on foot, to explore
and to drink in the people, the architecture, the very earth
and air of this new, old country. I walked, in as straight
a line away from my barracks as the narrow cobblestone streets
and twisting country lanes would allow, for hours. I
spoke without self-consciousness to fair children in leather
shorts, and I laboriously counted out unfamiliar coins to
exchange for tastes of traditional German food and drink.
Little
time had passed before I'd bought a beat-up old car to carry
me even deeper into the heart of Germany. I quickly formed
friendships that would last the rest of my life, and I soon
met the beautiful little German girl who was to become my
wife and with whom I share my life to this day 30 years later.
Germany
became the land in which I came of age, the place where I
did my real growing up, the home where my own children were
born. The Autobahns were my back roads, and the Mosel Valley
and the nearby nations of Belgium, France and Luxemburg became
my youthful stomping grounds. A 3-year tour of military duty
stretched into 10 years of life and laughter, friendship and
love when I made Europe my adoptive home.
You
may have deduced that I have a soft spot for Europe, Germany
in particular. My blood is pure German to start with; the
culture and the land of Germany are an indelible part of my
past - a part which had its effect on me during some of my
most formative years. It's a beautiful place by any standard,
and it's a shame that such a wonderful land is wasted on perfidious
snots.
You
heard me. Europeans are Elitist coxcombs. Ungrateful miscreants.
Rancorous anchorites. Grandiloquent popinjays. And yes, snots.
Ungrateful, pusillanimous snots.
During
my time in Europe the Germans still had dark, brooding East
Germany staring out at them through gray, unpainted window
sashes, causing a kind of collective guilt complex to hang
over the population like a perpetual fog. The memory of WWII,
while fading, was still fresh enough to cause the locals to
at least tolerate the presence of American military men and
women (and our strong American dollars and cheap American
cigarettes didn't hurt, either) because they knew what the
alternative was.
No
longer. World War III, the Cold War, is over (We won, by the
way). Now the Germans openly despise those Americans still
among them - because they can. The Danger of Communist
expansion is past, slavery was successfully dodged, and the
people can now safely revert to being, well, snots. Interestingly,
this slide into snottism seems to parallel their backward
slide into Socialism. The European experiment with Democracy
is over, and after a mere 60 years of freedom, the Europeans
are marching like lemmings back to the edge of the Marxist
abyss. As inexplicable as the willing surrender to Socialism
may be to freedom-loving Americans, it at least explains the
almost universal European disdain for America. Slaves and
slave holders always oppose free people.
The fro... um, French, are a great example. A recent survey
of our French Friends shows that 9 out of 10 would prefer
to see George W. Bush lose re-election (which seems to me
to be perhaps the best of all reasons to vote for
him). The French disdain for President Bush is a micro projection
of their disdain for the United States as a whole, and is
for the same reasons; Bush, like America - projects strength,
independence and freedom - all things in direct opposition
to Socialism.
We've
known for some time about the European distaste for America,
of course. The Germans, French, Spanish and increasingly the
Brits (I would mention Belgium but they're not big enough
to be a real country, much as they like to pretend they are)
have long looked down their noses at us. (That the Russians
and Chinese hate us goes without saying. We've always known
that and cannot pretend surprise at their behavior and lack
of support.) Lately that distaste for us has become increasingly
adversarial and obstructionist. And, most recently, the Europeans
have positioned themselves as outright enemies of the United
States and her true allies.
It's
one thing to act snottily toward Americans and American culture.
It's quite another to profess friendship while lining one's
pockets with blood money. We know for sure now what we've
long suspected - that the French and Germans were taking bribes
in the millions of dollars - dollars intended to feed innocents
- in exchange for their obstruction of the United States.
Government officials at the very highest levels, and, perhaps
even more disgusting, journalists, sold their
souls to a devil in a golden palace for a little blood money
while Iraqi children starved and American soldiers died. The
opposite of American Nobility is European Treachery.
The
picturesque land that I loved so as a young man is populated
by pusillanimous Socialists who would sooner see children
starve than support America in her efforts to spread Democracy
to the oppressed. The green wooded hills, the soaring cathedrals
and medieval castles, the cobblestone streets, the nestled
villages, the Bratwurst and the beer are all far too good
for perfidious Europeans. It's a waste of good food and scenery.
The
headlong plunge back into Marxism will keep the Europeans
from enjoying my Europe for much longer, however. It's hard
to appreciate beauty, culture and history when viewing it
from the black pit of slavery, even when you've jumped into
the pit willingly.
May
your chains sit lightly upon you. I'll take care of the beer...
