By Ray Starmann
The warrior culture in the US Army is dying every day, in a hideously slow death by a thousand lacerations of social engineering, diversity and political correctness lunacy, abetted by senior army leaders who are too gutless to raise even a finger in protest.
From Green Beret training standards lower than ROTC camp in the 80’s to Mommy Rangers, lactation memos, pregnancy simulators during physical training and a parade of cadets in red high heels, it’s more than apparent that this ain’t your father’s army anymore.
Heck, it ain’t even your older brother’s army anymore.
The army, like the rest of the military is evolving into a farce, a Potemkin Village built on lies, hidden by a smokescreen of platitudes and power point presentations to disguise the fact that no one with a star on their shoulders has the cajones to do anything to stop the PC madness, including the current Secretary of Defense.
The army’s current leadership, or Generation Rationalization believes that every bit of leftist dogma stuffed into the carcass of the US Army is a beautiful idea that will somehow benefit the army, when in fact, it’s a terminal cancer killing the army’s warrior culture.
According to two ridiculous articles in the Daily Mail and the New York Times that lauded the event as if it was the social happening of the year…
Captain Daniel Hall, 30, and Captain Vincent Franchino, 26, were married in the West Point Chapel on January 13th.
The two officers are both Apache helicopter pilots, the New York Times reports.
The captains, who are now stationed together at Fort Bliss in Texas, were married in front of 150 family members and friends, 34 of whom were military officers.
The army condones this as totally normal.
And, sadly, 34 of their fellow army officers condone this as normal, rather than socially deviant behavior. Imagine for one moment, Patton, MacArthur, Ike, Bradley, Collins and Hodges attending a gay wedding in 1944.
I know. Those guys are fossils, from another time that wasn’t basking in diversity and sensitivity.
Those old and dead guys knew how to fight and win wars.
The couple sported their blue army uniforms and received a saber-arch salute as they left the chapel. Their reception was held at Skylands Manor in New Jersey.
How sweet! They look so cute in their mess dress uniforms.
Franchino and Hall met in August 2009, back when the former was a freshman (or ‘plebe’ in the school’s parlance) and the latter was a senior (or ‘firstie’).
As part of a school tradition in which the plebes seek to hold up departing seniors, Franchino hid under Hall’s bed and popped out to scare him.
‘Dan was so startled, he jumped over his desk,’ Franchino told the New York Times.
Later in 2010, they chose each other for a mentorship program – Franchino as mentee and Hall as mentor. It was at this point that their feelings for each other developed.
But because of the Bill Clinton-effected 1993 policy of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’ which barred homosexual servicemen and servicewomen from being ‘out’ in the military, they could not show their feelings.
‘We were serving under a policy that was telling all of us — perfectly capable soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines — to lie about ourselves,’ Hall told the New York Times.
No, you were serving under a policy seeking to stop the demolition of the warrior culture.
At one point, when Hall was deployed along with his Boeing AH-64 Apache to South Korea, they called their relationship off temporarily.
But they got back together and may now hope to live happily ever after.
The couple, which will now go by the last name Franchino-Hall, enjoyed their first dance as married men to ‘La Vie En Rose’ by Edith Piaf.
Maybe General Mattis had the first dance with them?
Think about this:
At West Point.
God help us all.
The West Point of gay weddings has also given us the likes of Comrade Lieutenant Rapone, the communist son of a b*tch who currently is still on active duty at Fort Drum. The army claims Rapone is being investigated.
Uh huh. The bravo sierra meter is red lining.
Question for General Milley. How long does it take to dishonorably discharge one communist second lieutenant?
Jeopardy music playing…
No doubt Rapone and his Workers’ Paradise banners have been shoved under the E Ring rug, while hoping the public forgets about it.
Don’t rock the boat boys: Tricare, pension, defense contractor job and PX parking space for wife more important than national security or the future of the army.
And, there you have it. A conscious decision has been made in the military’s senior leadership, including the Mad Dog, to allow the insanity to prevail and to s-can the warrior culture and replace it with godless, San Francisco values. The conscious decision has been made because the leaders, as mentioned, are gutless and because many of them believe in this madness.
You can’t have a warrior culture and a PC military. The two are anathema to one another.
Who knows? Maybe General Mattis is a homosexual? Never seen him with a woman.
And, what is the warrior culture I keep harping about?
It is a culture that embraces what the feminists call toxic masculinity, camaraderie, aka, the Band of Brothers ethos, which is real. It is a culture that functions perfectly without women, and without distractions like open homosexuality, transgenders and sensitivity training. It is a culture that enables men to endure the unendurable and to achieve the impossible.
It is a culture that wins wars.
MacArthur said it more eloquently than me, speaking to a West Point with its former ethics that have sunk into the Hudson.
And what sort of soldiers are those you are to lead? Are they reliable? Are they brave? Are they capable of victory? Their story is known to all of you. It is the story of the American man-at-arms. My estimate of him was formed on the battlefield many, many years ago, and has never changed. I regarded him then as I regard him now — as one of the world’s noblest figures, not only as one of the finest military characters, but also as one of the most stainless. His name and fame are the birthright of every American citizen. In his youth and strength, his love and loyalty, he gave all that mortality can give.
He needs no eulogy from me or from any other man. He has written his own history and written it in red on his enemy’s breast. But when I think of his patience under adversity, of his courage under fire, and of his modesty in victory, I am filled with an emotion of admiration I cannot put into words. He belongs to history as furnishing one of the greatest examples of successful patriotism. He belongs to posterity as the instructor of future generations in the principles of liberty and freedom. He belongs to the present, to us, by his virtues and by his achievements. In 20 campaigns, on a hundred battlefields, around a thousand campfires, I have witnessed that enduring fortitude, that patriotic self-abnegation, and that invincible determination which have carved his statue in the hearts of his people. From one end of the world to the other he has drained deep the chalice of courage.
I could see those staggering columns of the First World War, bending under soggy packs, on many a weary march from dripping dusk to drizzling dawn, slogging ankle-deep through the mire of shell-shocked roads, to form grimly for the attack, blue-lipped, covered with sludge and mud, chilled by the wind and rain, driving home to their objective, and for many, to the judgment seat of God.
I do not know the dignity of their birth, but I do know the glory of their death. They died unquestioning, uncomplaining, with faith in their hearts, and on their lips the hope that we would go on to victory. Always, for them: Duty, Honor, Country; always their blood and sweat and tears, as we sought the way and the light and the truth.
And 20 years after, on the other side of the globe, again the filth of murky foxholes, the stench of ghostly trenches, the slime of dripping dugouts; those boiling suns of relentless heat, those torrential rains of devastating storms; the loneliness and utter desolation of jungle trails; the bitterness of long separation from those they loved and cherished; the deadly pestilence of tropical disease; the horror of stricken areas of war; their resolute and determined defense, their swift and sure attack, their indomitable purpose, their complete and decisive victory — always victory. Always through the bloody haze of their last reverberating shot, the vision of gaunt, ghastly men reverently following your password of: Duty, Honor, Country.
The PC crap and the diversity all looks wonderful at the Pentagon power point presentations: the gay men embracing, the red high heels, the lactating grunts, the lady Rangers (funny how plump they were at graduation), the soon to be lady Green Berets (remember no physical standards) until one day when the tanks have to be gassed up, the machine guns locked and loaded and the M-16’s taken off of safe…
It all looks wonderful and sensitive and caring until the first green tracer rounds from Ivan go down range at our feel good, diversity army and the merde soon hits the ventilateur and the PC army cracks up like Humpty Dumpty in a million shattered pieces and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t put it back together again.
Good luck in the next war generals. Cause you’re gonna need it.
We are five minutes away from the Hour of the Clusterfu*k.
The demise of the US Army is coming to a battlefield near you…