The Falklands

April 2 was the 30 year anniversary of the Falklands War.  I cannot put it any better than the BBC has here

I lived through it.  I was in the Royal Navy during the war and I lost friends as the war progressed.  Having said that I have never been more proud of my country, going out and protecting a tiny group of people who said that they wanted nothing more than to be British.  We fought a war because the people of the Falklands said they wanted us to, an almost miniscule amount of people, on the other side of the ocean said they wanted to be protected, and we went out and protected them.

It was a time that the term “yomping” became part of the national dialog, and an iconic picture of a Royal Marine with a Union flag on his back pack became a portrait sold to millions.   It was a time when a war became fully televised “I counted them all out and I counted them all back”.   It was a time when the son of a Royal Household was out there  in a helicopter in the black, thick smoke of the conflict rescuing people from the sea. At that point it hit me.

How many sons of senators, of congressmen, of presidents do we see out there in the battlefield fighting for their country in the US?  Other than Bo Biden?  Very little.   The elites here in the US will never send their children to war.  Because they know that there are others that they can send, the children of the expendable.   The nothings.  At least the Queen can proudly say that her children and her grand children have gone to war and have served bravely and honorably alongside the children of the common folk, side to side, brother to brother, from Andrew in the Falklands to Harry in Afghanistan.    I doubt many of the elites in the US can say the same.


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