Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo
 
Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo premiered in movie theaters in 1944, the year I was born.  Perhaps that's one reason why it's my most beloved war movie, but there are far more important reasons as well.

Nearly 17 million extraordinary ordinary American men were called upon to serve their country during World War II.  More than 400,000 of them would die in the noble pursuit of saving their country and the world from tyrannical, hate-filled, evil dictatorships, as if there's any other kind of a dictatorship.  

When those who survived the War returned home, they would rarely if ever talk about their sacrifice and heroism.  My father included.  They simply weren't interested in prancing around with their fists in the air, hugging and kissing the American flag and reveling in self glory.  To them, the War was about who America was, not who they were. 

But one World War II veteran did talk about his wartime experience.  In 1943, Capt. Ted Lawson authored a book titled Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo, which was made into that 1944 movie.  It's not a made-up story.  It's a true story about the men and women born between 1901 and 1927 whom we honor today by calling them The Greatest Generation—The World War II Generation.

Yes, I know, there were a lot of things wrong with America when Capt. Lawson wrote his book.  We were and continue to be an imperfect country.  But with each passing generation of Americans, we keep striving toward perfection, guided by the ideas and ideals woven into our founding document, the Constitution of the United States of America.  

And when Capt. Lawson and his generation of Americans took an oath to defend and uphold our country's Constitution, the words in that oath became their sacred obligation.  That descendants of The Greatest Generation would elect a dictator as president of the United States should not only be an unthinkable thought but also an unspeakable betrayal of our predecessors.  Because when voting for president is dismissed as an unnecessary relic of democracy—when election results are rejected by the losing candidate who refuses to concede to the winner; when there's no peaceful transfer of power from one administration to the next—then there will be no more elections.  There will be no more presidents.  There will be no more America.

And so, before we join hands with a dictator to hug and kiss his fellow despots of the world—before we sully the memory of thirty seconds over Tokyo, thirty hours in Normandy, thirty days on Iwo Jima, three thousand days of War & Courage—before we turn sacrifice into drivel, I urge you to remember the America which stood against tyrants, against madmen, against evil, against cowards, against dictators.

Because whether you have children or don't have children; whether you're 100 years old or 20 years old; whether you're in perfect health or on your death bed, this much is for certain: if a dictator should ever rule over the people of the United States, only those citizens who refuse to lick the boots of that dictator will survive as the last vestige of America.  

Until there are no Americans left.

I urge you to read or watch Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo or at least this short film clip.  If only to remember who we were and, hopefully, who we'll continue to be.








 
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