what a fateful day it was. most of us old enough remember what we were doing that morning. can you recall the feelings overtaking you at the time? fear, disbelief, hatred... from one moment to the other, America the beautiful, that America that gave us life and saw us grow had been grazed by the impurities of war. it was our home the enemy had struck. . . and we made war. the finest most powerful army the world has ever seen went up against a rag tag militia with corrupted ideals. the world had forgotten how ruthless we can be. we invented mass production, we refined gunpowder, we came up with close quarter tactics and long range sniping. . . WE ARE THE WAR MACHINE. we do not rest (we own the night), we are relentless (we embody resolve), we do not forget. we hunted them down, each and all of them. we killed the one that presided over their ranks.
they cannot defeat us, this, fire in every single American with which we charge defiantly into the night to defend our ideals; every single one of us born free to become anyone we want to be. to have the opinion we want to have and be able to voice it. to be treated with respect and as a human being. . . to gather in the streets and sing about America, The Beautiful.
service to battle
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