The warfighter’s curse, setting vs making examples, and forming a more perfect brotherhood
There is a bittersweet moment for those who fight a war the hardest on the day of a percieved victory.
You don’t miss the war, and the purpose was always to vanquish the enemy and the threat they posed to the people and places you love. You wanted people to live normal prosperous lives, and yet as many resume them… it disturbs you.
Many fought by your side but not all were deployed to the same extent or suffered the up close and personal losses on the same level.
When Bagram Airfield fell, most Americans could realize how that would have upset the men engaged in the 20 years of war in the middle east, but they still couldn’t truly feel it the way a man who put pieces of their friends in plastic bags did. They aren’t haunted by the men that disappeared and were never found. The betrayals third person don’t hit the same as the personal ones.
As life returns to normal and people move on with their lives, the soldiers with the most blood and guts left on the field can sometimes feel this return to normalcy is even a betrayal.
It isn’t, and the end of a long rumination is that we fight so the people can be safe and live happy, do the domesticated rituals, and not fear.
At the same time, those same men with the deepest experiences, longest deployments, and access to the most classified information have to face the realization this sense of safety is false, and it feels like watching a horror movie.
You are yelling at the person in the shower that someone is on the other side of the curtain with an axe, knowing they can’t hear you.
A truce or a cease fire is rarely a true peace. The enemy is not actually vanquished, merely regrouping.
The most committed see this period as an opportunity to do the same, build and harden, prepare for the next battle, for they know the war is by no means over. This is the time to double down, not take it easy. This assault on our club was child’s play compared to what comes with the next Democrat administration. There will be no pardons next time. There will be life sentences and lethal injections.
Unfortunately for the bulk of the force, most of whom don’t even know the true nature of the threat, the sense of urgency is gone.
When the enemy is at the gates everyone is ready to ride out. Let’s roll! Get some!
Let’s hang out with women and do domestic shit replaces that sense of urgency during these times.
Knowing this mentality threatens the future ability to do even have domestic lives outside of a cell block, and knowing that the newfound apathy threatens the future of these families and these men can drive the unrelenting warfighter crazy.
So it is with the pardons of my brothers and firing of the FBI agents and Prosecutors who tormented us.
This motoblog comes a couple weeks late due to an ejection of my cell phone from Alice on the trip, pictures in the video. Luckily enough material was on telegram and elsewhere to get this one out.
The fedpig division operation on my club for the last 4 years was relentless. A couple of weeks ago we had a twofer on deck. Swear in a new brother, and do so at an event with chapters we had restored brotherhood with and it was the product of multiple other trips. It was a huge moment in reunification of the uncompromised elements of the club.
A year ago this would have been a trip in a pack with some chase vehicles and a good crowd from the zone and other zones. People would have recognized the importance and made the time. I have never HAD the time. I do always MAKE the time because these colors and this tattoo represent a duty.
This trip I took solo after attempts to rally the troops were met with excuses.
It got in my craw a bit, but some counsel with a brother helped. He was in Bosnia, Mogadishu, and OIF-1 in Afghanistan, and he knew how a felt from that past life.
He ended up sick as hell or would have been the only one to ride out with me, as he has for the last few months. He rescued the last hostage brother from the DC jail with me in January.
He reminded me that it doesn’t matter what anyone else does. The sacrifices and dedication we have can’t be a knock on another brother, it’s our own legacy we build.
In the end there is a reality to deal with, but I can face it knowing I did everything I could to stop it, much like the frame job on J6. The reality might suck, but we only control ourselves.
Will the war be harder next round? Yes. Will the casualties be higher? Yes. Who will they be? Us? We were always ready to die or go to prison. Them? They made that bed when they chose to stay home. No reason to be mad at them, they will suffer enough as it is in the future for the apathy of today.
In the end the ride or die brother is only precious because of the ones who make excuses and stay home.
Next month or next year, they may be next to you, having realized the war isn’t by any means over. They may be burned out and return to the front lines soon, the best of us need some R&R.
Some of us can’t take R&R with the beast lurking in the darkness. Maybe that is actually a curse. Maybe we’re possessed madmen. Too many of us might not actually be a good thing.
So each man must be responsible to his God(s) and conscience. I truly love all my brothers, I will rally the troops and hope they show, and if they don’t they pay the price in missing the brotherhood and love and all the experiences of the journeys. The dedicated brothers know they can count on me and that is my honor, and nobody’s dishonor.
I’m not going to make an example out of anyone, just try to set the example.
The only thing I know is bury the throttle to meet the enemy whether the rioting mob or building a more perfect brotherhood in a world of hate.
I spent a weekend on an island I never knew existed. It was absolutely beautiful. I got to know new brothers and see one made who put extraordinary work into being able to call us brother. I rekindled brotherhood with men I have not spent time with in a few years.
I would be a faggot to come away from it with anything but a smile.
As the song in my ears on the road that weekend says:
“What a time, to be alive, we get to be the rebel sons and pave the way for all our lives to free this land someday”………
“To the bitter end, for the cause we live and die, to the bitter end, refuse to run refuse to hide, to the bitter end, we fight for God we fear no man, to the bitter end, we will break before we bend.”
110%
110mph
The pledge – Life, Fortune, Sacred Honor
I am a Western Chauvinist who refuses to apologize for creating the modern world!
To the bitter motherfucking end
This is my way
You run yours
UHURU!
The Proud Tribalist 