I’m going to tell you a little about myself by first telling you a little about my roots.
My father is a veteran of World War II. He was a navigator on a B-17 that was shot down over Bremen, Germany (probably by Messerschmitt ME109s or flak, or maybe a little of both). After bailing out (he is a member of the Caterpillar Club), he was captured by a farmer with a pitchfork and a very large German Shepherd. He was taken by train (200 prisoners to a boxcar) to Stalag Luft 1 (a prisoner of war camp for air crews) where he remained for the next eighteen months. Eventually he was liberated by the Russians. Ask him sometime for his views on those guys.
My older brother, dead now, was a Marine who did two tours in Vietnam. He volunteered for both. He was buried in his dress blues.
I was an Army type who was a platoon leader in Vietnam as well as a company commander and battalion executive officer at Fort Knox, Kentucky. I was drafted, went in as a private, and came out as a captain.
So, why does this matter? I’m just putting my bonafides out there so when I take a chop at something it can be shown I didn’t have bone spurs and run the other way.