March 29, 2006

MANLINESS NOT WELCOME AT THE NEW YORK TIMES

        The New York Times publishes sensitive portraits of Taliban Yalies, empathically describing their struggles to adapt to Western culture. Meanwhile, real heros, men who are fighting Jihadis who would eagerly decapitate the whole editorial board of the Times, are ignored. Who knew the story of Paul Smith Congressional Medal of Honor winner? Here he is, caught in a firefight, outgunned, outnumbered and protecting his comrades:

"...To fire the machine gun, Sgt. Smith had to stand in the APC's main hatch, his body exposed from the waist up to a withering fire coming at him from three directions. On the ground through the blur of combat, Sgt. Matthew Keller saw Sgt. Smith grimly firing measured bursts from atop the APC even as a hail of bullets hit around him.

Sgt. Keller yelled at him to get out. Sgt. Smith looked back at him and with a slight shake of his head, made a cutting motion across his throat with his right hand. Sgt. Keller would always remember the look in his eyes. "There was no fear in him whatsoever."

As Spc. Seaman, crouching in the adjoining hatch, fed him ammunition belts, Sgt. Smith directed an expert and murderous fire with the long-barreled M2, hitting Iraqis who tried to enter the compound through the gate or over the wall. He tried also to suppress renewed fire coming from the Iraqis in the guard tower to his left.

Finally, one of his fellow sappers, First Sgt. Timothy Campbell, led a small fire team which stole up to the tower and killed all Iraqis inside. But by this time, Sgt. Smith's machine gun had fallen silent. The attack had been broken. Nearly 50 Iraqi dead lay all over the area. Others were in retreat. But Sgt. Smith was now slumped in the turret hatch, blood soaking the front of his uniform..."

See the fuil story here.
Then contemplate the lines written in celebration of Horatio, defender of civilization:

...But the Consul's brow was sad,
And the Consul's speech was low,
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe.
``Their van will be upon us
Before the bridge goes down;
And if they once may win the bridge,
What hope to save the town?''

Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the Gate:
``To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his gods...

Where is the Thomas Macaulay to celebrate in song and story our own Horatio at the Bridge?

When the oldest cask is opened,
And the largest lamp is lit;
When the chestnuts glow in the embers,
And the kid turns on the spit;
When young and old in circle
Around the firebrands close;
When the girls are weaving baskets,
And the lads are shaping bows;

When the goodman mends his armor,
And trims his helmet's plume;
When the goodwife's shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom;
With weeping and with laughter
Still is the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

"goodman"? "goodwife"? No wonder there's no gratitude, no celebration--not at the New York Times.