Did I ever tell you about my grandfather?

Don't know if I did nor not.  Anyways, short Irish guy.  Born and raised in South Dakota, where my great-grandfather had settled after his stint of being press-ganged into the Cavalry.  And when I say "short", I mean 5'1".  He coulda been a Hobbit, only with less hair.

Too short to join the Army.  Too short to join the Marines.  The only branch of the military that would have him was the Navy, and only for a few jobs that didn't require the person to work vertically.  So Grandpa pulled and closed the charging plate on the guns; guns load, close plate, guns fire, open plate, clean out chamber, repeat.

It destroyed his knees.  It destroyed his back.  It destroyed his eardrums.  But he did it for four years in the Pacific Ocean.  A good Catholic man, he kept his rosary with him at all times.  I have the crucifix from that rosary.  The rest of the rosary fell apart decades ago, so I put it on a new rosary.  Just a simple cord with knots for "beads", and a crucifix that my grandfather had during his years in the Navy.  Fighting the Japanese.  Because they blew the ever-living hell out of Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941.  Today, 72 years ago.

Evil can walk the earth.  Entire societies and countries have gone bat-shit crazy.  Good men have to fight back, and those who forget these simple facts will either perish, or live as slaves.