Category: This great Nation & Its People
“The Way We Were”
I saw this article from Michael Smith and it made me think, it was something that I read that a soldier commented during the Korean war and it was really driven home during the Vietnam war and every war since.
There has been a disconnect between the G.I’s fighting and the American people, as one commented “Its like they don’t even know that there is a war on except for the evening news and the caskets coming home, there is no sense of urgency, no sense of sacrifice, 24 hours after you catch the freedom bird you are home. and you feel lost.
The people at home have no clue what you went through, they have no frame of reference. nothing.” This sentiment has gone on through every war since Korea, now the WWII vets had an idea so that helped with Korea, but after that, there was no frame of reference.
This disconnect has caused a chasm between the actions of the U.S. Military and the society. The WWII generation would have understood what President Trump was trying to do to keep the Mad Mullahs’ from getting nuclear weapons.
But this generation is soo coddled so inured, they have no sense of sacrifice, they can’t endure any discomfort, what was to happen if we were to get into a war with a peer or a near peer adversary, our soft society couldn’t handle the strain, they would fold rather than fight to save the country, rather than endure, not realizing what would happen in the future is much worse. I fear for this country. for the country that my son will inherit.
I just paid $3.79 per gallon for regular gas to fill up my truck. Two months ago, that was $2.49 per gallon.
As I was thinking about that change, I also thought about going through my mom’s stuff after she died and finding ration coupons from the WWII era and it trigged a consideration about just how soft and coddled America is as compared to the war effort against the Axis powers and how some are not willing to pay even a small price or experience a tiny amount of discomfort as America seeks to end a global threat.
My dad was a Sergeant First Class in the Army Corps of Engineers and was on the beach at Normandy as a combat engineer. I remember him talking about the start of the war and how the people of rural Mississippi pulled together as husbands, fathers, brothers and sons enlisted, left the farms and went to war. I remember my mom and my extended family of grandparents, aunts and uncles, talking about what it was like during the war and the sacrifices they willingly made.
How different it seems today.
During World War II, the American home front became an extension of the battlefield, not through combat, but through discipline, restraint, and a shared understanding that victory required sacrifice from everyone. The government did not simply ask for support, it organized daily life around it, and ordinary citizens adjusted accordingly.
Rationing was the most visible expression of that shift. Basic staples such as sugar, meat, butter, and coffee were no longer items of casual purchase but controlled commodities, distributed through coupon books that limited how much any household could buy.
The system was not merely about scarcity; it was about fairness and prioritization. Soldiers needed food first, and industry needed raw materials, so civilians learned to stretch meals, substitute ingredients, and accept that abundance was temporarily off the table.
In backyards across the country, “Victory Gardens” appeared, turning private property into small-scale food production and reinforcing the idea that self-reliance was part of national service.
Fuel and transportation were similarly constrained.
Gasoline was rationed, and tires became precious due to rubber shortages, forcing Americans to rethink mobility. Carpooling was encouraged, unnecessary travel discouraged, and even speed limits were lowered to conserve fuel and extend tire life.
The automobile, long a symbol of American freedom, became subject to collective necessity. Convenience gave way to coordination.
Clothing and consumer goods followed the same pattern. Fabric, leather, and rubber were diverted to military use, leaving civilians with fewer options and a clear message: use what you have.
The phrase “make do and mend” was not a slogan but a practical instruction. Clothes were repaired instead of replaced, wardrobes simplified, and even small luxuries, like nylon stockings, disappeared almost overnight because those materials were needed for parachutes and other military equipment.
Perhaps the most participatory aspect of the home front effort was the nationwide push for scrap collection and recycling. Americans were asked to gather metal, rubber, paper, and even used cooking grease, all of which could be repurposed for war production.
These drives turned neighborhoods, schools, and civic groups into active contributors to the industrial war machine. It was not enough to conserve, one was expected to contribute.
Even energy use became a matter of national concern. Households were encouraged to limit electricity and heating consumption, and in coastal areas, blackout measures were enforced to reduce visibility to potential enemy attacks. Daily routines were adjusted in small but meaningful ways, reinforcing the sense that the war touched every aspect of life.
Rationing wasn’t just about scarcity, it was about true shared sacrifice and discipline, not the made up virtue signaling crap of today. The government framed it as a civic duty: every pound of sugar saved, every mile not driven, every scrap collected contributed, at least symbolically, to victory.
It created a culture where restraint and conservation were patriotic, and waste and excess were quietly frowned upon.
Taken together, these measures reshaped American habits and expectations. Comfort was reduced, convenience curtailed, and consumption disciplined, and in exchange, there was a widely shared belief that these sacrifices mattered. The home front operated on a simple premise: that millions of small acts of restraint and contribution could add up to something decisive.
There is no doubt that presidents, politicians, and planners played a large role in crushing the spirit of unity. From Jack Kennedy to the Biden administration, America cocked up pretty much every military operation, and our military paid the price. Soldiers and sailors returning from Vietnam were spit on and called “baby killers.”
I get the feeling that tide has turned, at least for most of America. I hope so, given we are engaged in what I and many others believe is the alteration of the global power structure in a positive direction for everybody but America’s stated enemies.
Something we should remember as we head into our 250th year.
I AM SO GLAD THAT I JOINED THE US ARMY INSTEAD!!!!
Grumpy
During a 30-year career, Marine Corps Chief Warrant Officer 4 Harold Edward Wilson saw action during three major wars. His leadership during the Korean conflict helped his beleaguered unit survive an onslaught by Chinese forces. That bravery under fire earned him the Medal of Honor. 
Marine Corps Master Sgt. Harold E. Wilson, Medal of Honor recipient.
Wilson was born Dec. 5, 1921, in Birmingham, Alabama, to parents James and Leila Wilson. He had three brothers, William, Thomas and Walter, all of whom also eventually joined the Marine Corps.
Wilson earned the nickname “Speedy” as a grocery delivery boy. According to Marine Corps Col. James C. Carroll III, Wilson used a wagon when he first started the job, but he was pretty slow, so people called him “slow poke.” Wilson wasn’t fond of that moniker, so he saved up enough money to get a bike, which he used to speed around town delivering groceries. It earned him a new nickname that stuck with him for the rest of his life.
A few months after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Wilson enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserve. The 20-year-old was assigned to active duty and spent more than two years stationed on Midway Island in the Pacific before being honorably discharged in the fall of 1945 when World War II was over. 
Two years later, Wilson rejoined the Marine Corps Reserve. He was recalled to active duty in August 1950 when war broke out in Korea. His unit, the 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines Regiment, 1st Marine Division, was sent to the peninsula in November 1950. Pretty quickly, they were involved in some of the war’s first campaigns, including the famed Battle of Chosin Reservoir, where Wilson was wounded in December 1950. 
A few months later, Wilson earned the Bronze Star for leading his platoon during several skirmishes in March 1951. Then, there was a lull in fighting for a few weeks, but on April 22, about 250,000 Chinese soldiers began their spring offensive. Their push south caused South Korea’s 6th Division to collapse, so U.S. Marine Corps units were sent in to plug the gaps through which the enemy was advancing.
Wilson was the sergeant of his rifle platoon, which was attached to Company G. They were charged with plugging the gap on Hill 902 near the Hwachon Reservoir, just north of the 38th Parallel. 
Around midnight on April 23rd, the Chinese overran Company G’s outpost. Wilson’s platoon was forced to defend themselves in hastily constructed foxholes from the heavy mortar, machine gun, grenade and small-arms fire coming at them from the enemy.
Wilson braved that intense fire to help survivors get back to their defensive line. He directed the treatment of casualties, and even though he’d been struck in the right arm and left leg, he refused aid for himself and continued to move through the men in his platoon, encouraging them to keep up the fight.
Not Giving Up
As the attack got worse, Wilson was wounded again, this time in the head and shoulder. But he again refused medical attention and insisted on staying with his unit. He couldn’t use either of his arms to fire a gun, so instead, he went around resupplying his men with rifles and ammunition he’d collected from the wounded so they could continue firing.
After asking his company commander for help several times, the unit was finally issued reinforcements, and Wilson moved them into strategic positions along the defensive line. He then directed their fire until he was blown off his feet by a mortar round. 
The explosion dazed and concussed Wilson and caused him to lose a lot of blood, but he still refused to get medical aid. Despite his weakened state, he continued to go from foxhole to foxhole directing fire, resupplying his men and giving them first aid and encouragement.
Thanks to Wilson, his unit was able to hold onto the position by rallying enough times that the enemy finally turned back.
At dawn, when the final attack had been repulsed, Wilson personally accounted for each man in his platoon before finally walking half a mile unassisted to the aid station to get help for himself. He was transferred to Yokosuka Naval Hospital in Japan and spent five months there before being sent back to the U.S.
Nearly a year later, on April 11, 1952, then-Master Sgt. Wilson received the Medal of Honor from President Harry S. Truman during a White House Rose Garden ceremony, which his parents and brothers attended. Two other Korean War comrades, Army 1st Lt. Lloyd Burke and Army Cpl. Rodolfo Hernandez, also received the nation’s highest award for valor that day. 
A few days later, Wilson was given the key to the city by Birmingham’s mayor as his bravery was celebrated across his hometown.
That July, Wilson married Julia Sawls. They had two sons, John and Harold Jr., according to the South Carolina newspaper, The State.
An Honorable Career
Wilson earned his commission as a warrant officer in August 1952 and continued to work his way up the ranks for many more years. A decade later, in December 1962, he took over the post of adjutant of the Marine Corps Engineer Schools at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. A year later, he served in a similar role for the 2nd Tank Battalion.
During Vietnam, Wilson served with Marine Aircraft Group 13 before being assigned as the 6th Marine Corps district personnel officer in November 1968. He retired from the corps in February 1972 after nearly 30 years of service. 
Wilson continued to help service members by working as a benefits counselor for the Veterans Administration. In 1974, he moved to Lexington, South Carolina, where he remained for the rest of his life.
Wilson died of lung cancer on March 29, 1998. He was buried in Lexington’s Woodridge Memorial Park Cemetery.
The Marine Corps continues to honor Wilson and his achievements. In 2017, a weapons storage facility was named in his honor at Marine Corps Logistics Base Albany, New York, where Wilson once worked. His son, John, spoke on his behalf at the event.
“Dad was so humble about his accomplishments and being a Medal of Honor recipient,” John Wilson said at the building’s dedication. “He would probably say everybody is making too much [of] a big deal over this. He would probably say there are other people more deserving of having a building such as this named after him.”
John Wilson said his father was a private and humble person but that he would be proud of the honor bestowed upon him.