This is in response to Ray Howard Sr.’s letter dated Aug. 4. Thank you to The Monitor for printing his letter. It shows your unusually unbiased attempt to show everybody’s opinion.
I take issue with his attack as he calls Donald trump a disgusting, repulsive human being responsible for thousands of deaths. I want to know exactly what he did to be responsible for those deaths.
Howard then attacks the Electoral College that has been in place for many years, both during Democratic and Republican presidential reigns. So exactly who are those certain people it shields and advances?
He mentions the president’s niece. He suggests that President Trump shows no empathy or compassion for a suffering nation. What is that suffering and who is actually responsible for that suffering?
And of course, we can all believe a disgruntled family member!
As a supporter of Donald Trump, I don’t see our nation in peril except from people like himself. I see Democratic states and cities under siege by a small group of anarchists who soon will have to go back to the basements of their parents’ houses and wonder why life passed them by as they waited for a government handout to appease their lack of willingness to go out into this wonderful country we have and make something of themselves, and make their parents proud for being upstanding members of their community.
Reflections of a soldier
I continue to hear the sounds of war, and I continue to see the images that war has seared into my throbbing mind. A toxic combination that wakes me in the night and exhausts the serenity of the darkness and the silence that only dreams can bring. It is the voices and the faces that awake the fear that lingers still inside my weakening existence. Age does not erase the visions or the pain of war, or the memories of those who shared the fear and felt the horror of endless days and dark, cold nights.
There is a loneliness that attaches to the human soul of those who have lived the never-ending days of war that never goes away. There is a disconnectedness of time
and place and reality itself that helps to mask the sights and sounds and emotions that would break a human heart or touch a crumbling soul. And there is an awareness of the finality of life that lingers in the shadows of each moment. And how could this not change a man, much less a boy not yet a man?
War is a maker of heroes and of nightmares, of widows and of unhealable scars. War is the prelude to hell and the unquenchable thirst for dominance over the innocence of man. War is the slayer of dreams and of hope. War is the phantom, the goblin, the monster of our childish hallucinations come true. And it is hard for a man not to shiver and tremble in fright and disgust at the sights and sounds of war as it unfolds before his eyes. Imagine feeling the rush of fear and hearing the anguished cries of pain, and then of sudden and utter silence that overtakes the smoldering chaos of one instant in one moment of time forever frozen in unimaginable images and sounds. That is the picture of war. Any war. Anywhere.
And in the end, all that is left behind is a legacy of shadows and of ghosts that forever haunts the human mind. And nightmares do come true when dreams are snatched and trampled on forsaken and tarnished fields of incredulity and infamy. Each soldier an enemy of humanity, battling shadows and ghosts that never die.
Reflections of a soldier’s life reveal the price of duty, honor, courage and country.