DON’T TREAD ON ME by Larry Stout
DON’T TREAD ON ME by Larry Stout 11/11/07
When the Second Continental Congress instituted the formation of a navy in 1775, they also authorized the enlistment of five companies of marines to support this new navy. Those first Marines that enlisted came from Philadelphia and selected as their motto, “Don’t Tread on Me.” That motto was incorporated into one of America’s first flags, a coiled rattlesnake with thirteen rattles, which became known as the Gadsden Flag.
The United States Marines are proud of the fact that they actually predate the United States! A good case could be made that there may not have been a United States had not there been a US Marine Corps to defend it.
Today is Veterans Day in America, and one of the benefits that has come about as a result of the Iraq War is that veterans are much more appreciated today than have been in quite some time. It has slowly dawned on Americans that those who have served their country deserve respect and not ridicule. Of course, it has not dawned on everyone. There was an editor at the Tribune of San Luis Obispo in California named Rochelle Reed who recently published an essay about her son’s decision to join the Army. Hear the pain in the poor woman’s voice:
Never in a million years did I imagine my son would join the Army. Nor did Evan. In high school, he'd hang up on recruiters who called the house. He'd blurt, "Get away from me!" to the ones who trawled the local hangouts. Our home was liberal Democrat and anti-war and now, at 21, he was a Michael Moore fan. The night before he left, he spent his time reading "Stupid White Men." . . .
When I tell people that Evan has joined the Army, their reactions are almost always the same: their faces freeze, they pause way too long, and then they say, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry for you." I hang my head and look mournful, accepting their sympathy for the worry that lives in me. But as it dawns on them that Evan wasn't drafted, as Vietnam still clings to my generation, their expressions become quizzical, then disbelieving. I know what they're thinking: Why in the world would any kid in his right mind choose to enlist when we're in the middle of a war? I begin telling them the story, desperate to assure them it wasn't arrogant patriotism or murderous blood lust that convinced him to join. What finally hooked him was a recruiter's comment that if he thought the country's role in Iraq was so screwed up, he should try to fix it.
I have no idea of the real motives for this young man’s recruitment, especially given the family environment that he has obviously been raised in, but I faintly hear an echo in the background that suggests he could not truly call himself a man unless he came down from the cheap seats of criticism and ridicule and get in the game himself. The mother must consol herself that this is not “arrogant patriotism,” (a term I would love for her to define for me), but I believe it is a form of patriotism nonetheless.
As I have explained countless times to my management groups in Europe, Americans do not get emotional over the Grand Canyon, or misty-eyed when speaking about the Mississippi River – but there is something about seeing the American flag flying over mangled debris at Ground Zero in New York, or Mount Suribachi on the island of Iwo Jima that sends shivers down our spine.
On Sunday at our church, about fifteen men who had served in uniform came forward to be honored, and spontaneously, we were all called to stand at attention. Instantly, every man’s heels snapped together, our arms tucked tightly to our sides with our hands formed a fist. To the best of recollection, I had not stood at attention since 1984, but there were men standing next to me who probably beat that date by decades. Yet we all instantly responded, and just as quickly, snapped our arms up in a salute to the flag.
It is in our blood – respect, duty, honor – and somehow these virtues get passed on from generation to generation. Even a mother mired in Vietnam-horror nostalgia cannot root it out of her own son. There are many things that are not right about the United States of America, but this is not one of them. Serving under the American Flag was one of the noblest things I have ever done in my life.
When the Second Continental Congress instituted the formation of a navy in 1775, they also authorized the enlistment of five companies of marines to support this new navy. Those first Marines that enlisted came from Philadelphia and selected as their motto, “Don’t Tread on Me.” That motto was incorporated into one of America’s first flags, a coiled rattlesnake with thirteen rattles, which became known as the Gadsden Flag.
The United States Marines are proud of the fact that they actually predate the United States! A good case could be made that there may not have been a United States had not there been a US Marine Corps to defend it.
Today is Veterans Day in America, and one of the benefits that has come about as a result of the Iraq War is that veterans are much more appreciated today than have been in quite some time. It has slowly dawned on Americans that those who have served their country deserve respect and not ridicule. Of course, it has not dawned on everyone. There was an editor at the Tribune of San Luis Obispo in California named Rochelle Reed who recently published an essay about her son’s decision to join the Army. Hear the pain in the poor woman’s voice:
Never in a million years did I imagine my son would join the Army. Nor did Evan. In high school, he'd hang up on recruiters who called the house. He'd blurt, "Get away from me!" to the ones who trawled the local hangouts. Our home was liberal Democrat and anti-war and now, at 21, he was a Michael Moore fan. The night before he left, he spent his time reading "Stupid White Men." . . .
When I tell people that Evan has joined the Army, their reactions are almost always the same: their faces freeze, they pause way too long, and then they say, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry for you." I hang my head and look mournful, accepting their sympathy for the worry that lives in me. But as it dawns on them that Evan wasn't drafted, as Vietnam still clings to my generation, their expressions become quizzical, then disbelieving. I know what they're thinking: Why in the world would any kid in his right mind choose to enlist when we're in the middle of a war? I begin telling them the story, desperate to assure them it wasn't arrogant patriotism or murderous blood lust that convinced him to join. What finally hooked him was a recruiter's comment that if he thought the country's role in Iraq was so screwed up, he should try to fix it.
I have no idea of the real motives for this young man’s recruitment, especially given the family environment that he has obviously been raised in, but I faintly hear an echo in the background that suggests he could not truly call himself a man unless he came down from the cheap seats of criticism and ridicule and get in the game himself. The mother must consol herself that this is not “arrogant patriotism,” (a term I would love for her to define for me), but I believe it is a form of patriotism nonetheless.
As I have explained countless times to my management groups in Europe, Americans do not get emotional over the Grand Canyon, or misty-eyed when speaking about the Mississippi River – but there is something about seeing the American flag flying over mangled debris at Ground Zero in New York, or Mount Suribachi on the island of Iwo Jima that sends shivers down our spine.
On Sunday at our church, about fifteen men who had served in uniform came forward to be honored, and spontaneously, we were all called to stand at attention. Instantly, every man’s heels snapped together, our arms tucked tightly to our sides with our hands formed a fist. To the best of recollection, I had not stood at attention since 1984, but there were men standing next to me who probably beat that date by decades. Yet we all instantly responded, and just as quickly, snapped our arms up in a salute to the flag.
It is in our blood – respect, duty, honor – and somehow these virtues get passed on from generation to generation. Even a mother mired in Vietnam-horror nostalgia cannot root it out of her own son. There are many things that are not right about the United States of America, but this is not one of them. Serving under the American Flag was one of the noblest things I have ever done in my life.
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