It's a day to mourn the losses, and celebrate the great victory. It's a time for reflection, on the incredible job done by our troops against tremendous odds, and a determined foe. Our people didn't always have the right tools for the job, the right armor for their trucks, the right leadership on the ground or back home in America. Lauded correctly as heroes by many, they were also vilified as cold-blooded murderers, by vile traitors in Hollywood, craven aging hippies in academia, even by a leading opposition-party political hack.
There were good-hearted people who opposed this war, both at home and abroad. They didn't understand why it had to be fought. They still don't understand the global war against Islamofascism we'll be fighting for years, probably decades. Are there enough people who do understand the stakes, to allow America and what's left of the free world to win the war against this medievalist nightmare? I'm not convinced of that, but I have hope.
Oh, and I didn't pick up my hope on sale at the Obama Flea Market & Fool's Gold Depot. It was provided by a President who stood firm against gale-force winds of pessimism and defeatism. His name is George W. Bush, and he is my Commander-In-Chief.