To be an American is to bear witness to the great feats of valor in this last of ages. Although, we’re learning “valor” is a relative term. The kings of old rallied their men before battle to temper their courage with the sure knowledge that death would be glory, but greater still with the odds against which they’d fight. Cowards were free to leave.
Such were the great Anglo-Saxon traditions of our forefathers. Our history attests that American men really used to follow through on this sort of thing, so it’d be naive to dismiss it all as merely a genre of entertainment.
We’ve always striven to follow in their bloodline. I’ll admit this country hasn’t always been on the right side of history, but at the same time, we’ve had our share of heroism and perhaps in proportion to the inspiration our culture imparted.
As time progressed, the classic action movies of the 1980s arose from this part of America’s collective psyche. Inspiring exhortations gave way to one-liners. Less flowery and intellectual than Shakespeare, but in the same vein even if most of them were spoken by a recent arrival from Austria or Italy.
The closer we draw to what must surely be the end, I’m afraid that our entertainment is warping itself towards reality. What I mean by this is that I don’t survey my local Walmart and spot anybody I’d put on the roster for the next Pickett’s Charge. To a non-American, this might seem perplexing seeing as I checked online and it’s rated as among the least safe of these retail locations in all of America.
This isn’t to say I haven’t witnessed a black female do ferocious battle on numerous occasions. One of the incidents that stands out in my mind was a 200+ pounder with her hair disheveled and shirt partially ripped off pounding on a metal door with the authorities behind it sheltering her opponent of the same race, but built less robust, as she screamed, “Open dis dough, I’mma kill dis bitch, dis bitch cain’t fight!”
Grim Determination, I suppose that would be the most noble characterization of their mentality. Of course, I’m not a racist, but those sorts of intellectuals would label it as “no impulse control” or perhaps a “lack of future time orientation.” It certainly does explain why these ebony Amazons seem surprised when the taser comes next, though.
I’m not here to get into scientific racism today, but I’ll admit that whatever you’d like to call this outlook doesn’t lend itself well to organized violence, which requires courage, discipline, and a willingness for individuals to self-sacrifice in order for the group to succeed. It’s thus been known since the colonial era that blacks don’t make for good combat troops. Actually, they were always viewed as a liability if utilized for this purpose.
Our forefathers didn’t have Netflix, so they weren’t aware of all sorts of absurd things such as the fact that black women programmed a spaceship which reached the moon because, as secretaries, their acumen in this field was prized above all the PhDs endeavoring on pioneering projects for NASA back in the 1960s.
As a child of the relatively recent 1980s, I’ve never once looked to a black woman for mathematical expertise or had one interrupt me to explain that my math was wrong on an engineering project. I don’t know any of my fellow contemporary white males who’ve recounted such an experience to me, either.
Another thing about the combat experiences which span 99.9+% of human history is that the mail was a non-issue. Firstly, foot soldiers didn’t read or write nor did their loved ones back home. Second, there was no such thing as a postal service, only dispatches sent amongst their superiors with which such a warrior didn’t concern himself. He’d have been more focused on the king’s rousing speech before the battle or the spoils that awaited him after the victory.
Set all of this aside, as you’re in for a treat as another one of these black female excellence movies have been produced for Netflix. The premise is absurd, and I’ve never heard of this story as it had no effect on the course of the war. I’m in a hurry today, so here’s what the top of my first search turned up:
An army unit known as the “Six Triple Eight” had a specific mission in World War II: to sort and clear a two-year backlog of mail for Americans stationed in Europe. Between the Army, Navy, Air Force, the Red Cross and uniformed civilian specialists, that amounted to seven million people waiting for mail.
And the responsibility to deliver all of it fell on the shoulders of 855 African-American women.
From February 1945 to March 1946, the women of the 6888 Central Postal Directory Battalion distributed mail in warehouses in England and France. Because of a shortage of resources and manpower, letters and packages had been accumulating in warehouses for months.
Alright, so they showed up in England to sort the mail a couple months before Germany surrendered, after it had been depleted by overwhelming odds on three fronts, starved, and firebombed in a string of the most appalling crimes against humanity ever committed. Might this explain why nobody has ever heard about them up until now?
Seems like these black females were decisive in the outcome especially since the war had been won during the most intense fighting when troops apparently never received their mail due to the backlog as it never made any difference, which again, comports with all of human history. Oh, wait.
Where were the white women serving America? Well, they were engaged in more critical auxiliary roles such as important secretarial tasks and taking care of the white soldiers as nurses. The black nurses were generally only tasked with caring for POWs. White soldiers deserved white nurses for obvious reasons.
Where were the black men? Well, as we all know they caused a lots of serious problems in their support roles. This is why black women have always been more employable in many areas of the economy than their male counterparts.
Thus, we can safely surmise that once the war was won, somebody in the high command decided to resolve this non-essential issue by sending a battalion of black women raised at the behest of Eleanor Roosevelt as some sort of personal vanity project to deal with it.
I’m sure you’ll be tuning in to this movie for inspiration to enlist and die for America in the coming wars against Russia, Iran, and China. If you’re worried that you’re too old, most of the Ukrainians getting slaughtered are over forty at this point. Don’t discount your value as cannon fodder until you’re beneath foreign dirt.
Have a wonderful day.
I’m proud to officially announce my candidacy for the office of Dogcatcher.
