"Do what is right; let the consequence follow. Battle for freedom in spirit and might." (Hymn 237)

If you don’t read this at all, how could I blame you? If you don’t read this in parts, you must be crazy! This is intended mainly as a contribution to my nephews’ and niece’s understanding about their family.

Recently I concluded a two-day assignment to help man the front desk of our service center at the Department of Veterans Affairs regional office. We had the wonderful reassurance that, due to a labor contract dispute, there is no one presently on the other end of the panic button—just something to think about when sitting alone with an irate veteran in an interview room. I remarked to one coworker that over the course of two days I didn’t once see someone in my weight class, and each one was between me and the door.

What I tried to think about instead was President Joseph Fielding Smith’s statement which was, naturally, recasting a frequent iteration: “no righteous man is ever taken before his time.” Such is the goal. I need not worry about timing so long as I worry about that first part: righteousness. President Lee put it another way: “Now, the only fear we ought to have in this world is the fear of losing our place in the eternal family circle” (THBL, 49).

Speaking of which, in my preparations for eternity there is a much larger body of family waiting on the other side. One tremendous legacy they’ve left me could be summarized as the scriptural “be of good courage.” When my great-grandfather, county commissioner, moved among chain gangs, it was bearing no weapon, but rather words of comfort. (My grandmother loves to tell of the time she rode with him to the prison. He held up his hand to stop the buses that were taking them out for their daily labors, and examined several lunch pails. In the end, he announced that they would not be going to work that day with such poor food.) He frequently spoke with prisoners about how they could rehabilitate their lives, a theme commonly lost today, where prison is an experience wherein inmates truly do as George Fox observed, “[learn] badness one of another” (in Harry Emerson Fosdick, Great Voices of the Reformation: An Anthology [New York: The Modern Library, 1952], 465). People are unlikely to acknowledge wrongdoing if all they experience is the consequence of their actions, having a disconnect between what they do and what they endure, without envisioning the possibility of a more excellent way. They must realize that they are punishing themselves—not so much that society is punishing them—and that there’s a higher life to reach after. I bear solemn testimony that my great-grandfather’s mission is little different today in that field of labor beyond.

Why have such regard for this present corruptible flesh? I think of the impetuous Young Woodard Swinson, who, during the Civil War, charged into a hail of bullets from behind fortifications, and was cut down almost instantly while shouting, “Come on, boys!” (J. W. Lokey’s eyewitness account, quoted from Confederate Veteran in April 1925, in Virginia S. Vickers, Swinsons and Related Families: Virginia, North Carolina to Georgia by 1812 [Greenville, SC: Southern Historical Press, 1998], 121) Small wonder that five of six brothers died during the war, between Gettysburg and Vicksburg? My direct ancestor, William Pin(c)kney Swinson, was the only one to die at home of wounds, surrounded by his loved ones, on furlough. (He left behind a daughter and sons named James Madison and Patrick Henry.) The story goes that his brother was in charge of putting the severely wounded out of their misery, and could not bear to do so when he found William. He assisted him up and on his way with the aid of his sword and scabbard. I recall the Scot’s reaction as he bled to death during the Hundred Years War: “Sir John Sinclair asked the Earl [of Douglas] how it went with him. ‘Pretty badly,’ said the Earl. ‘But God be praised, not many of my ancestors have died in their beds. . . .’” (Froissart, Chronicles, trans. Geoffrey Brereton [New York: Penguin Books, 1978], 344).

The price my family paid for participating in the fragmentation of the Union seems sufficient in itself. Nobody listened to the Prophet Joseph’s proposed solution—indeed, the pride and anger of man guaranteed that the foretold calamities would occur. Slavery and racism are wrong, wrong, wrong, and in spite of the complexities of the issues the stark fact remains that the South upheld an institution that conscience ought to have abolished long before. Once the shooting started, though, I think we’d be surprised to learn how little slavery was an issue to either side. Most of my relatives who fought were not even slaveowners. I do not entirely discount the feeling that Southerners had of defending their own homes and dignity. That is precisely how another ancestor, Andrew Jackson Council, perished. He died of wounds incurred during skirmishing that inflicted one-third casualties on his regiment, which sought to defend Atlanta and its railroad. He appeared on a Confederate Roll of Honor. I often scoff at the idea of family stories, hardly verifiable, but I’ve been proven hasty in that respect. (Such as the time that I learned a tale was absolutely true about some ancestors’ journey across the Atlantic being diverted by pirates.) There may be a core of truth to accounts of Andrew’s participation at Chickamauga, and there’s something about him taking upon himself an assignment to blow up a Union position before he died. Long after hearing that, I obtained information from his service file that he was detailed to a miners and sappers company of engineers.

To return to the imagery of the Civil War, and Atlanta’s destruction: a comedy routine employed the name of Shiz, and missed the point entirely in saying to read about him in the Book of Mormon. Far from appreciating a deplorable euphemism, the phrase that instantly occurred to me (and is bolded below) was:

Now the name of the brother of Lib was called Shiz. And it came to pass that Shiz pursued after Coriantumr, and he did overthrow many cities, and he did slay both women and children, and he did burn the cities.

And there went a fear of Shiz throughout all the land; yea, a cry went forth throughout the land—Who can stand before the army of Shiz? Behold, he sweepeth the earth before him!

And it came to pass that the people began to flock together in armies, throughout all the face of the land.

And they were divided; and a part of them fled to the army of Shiz, and a part of them fled to the army of Coriantumr.

And so great and lasting had been the war, and so long had been the scene of bloodshed and carnage, that the whole face of the land was covered with the bodies of the dead.

And so swift and speedy was the war that there was none left to bury the dead, but they did march forth from the shedding of blood to the shedding of blood, leaving the bodies of both men, women, and children strewed upon the face of the land, to become a prey to the worms of the flesh. (Ether 14:17-22)

Another relative, Captain Hardy Brantley Stanley, Jr., fell during one of the bloodiest days of the Civil War, part of the Spotsylvania Court House battles within the Wilderness Campaign. That nightmarish struggle has been described as “a wild melee in dark woods, with every soldier trying to fight his way back to his own lines.” Observers noted that in such battles stalks were cut down as cleanly in fields as were the men there. Toward the end of the Book of Mormon account, we read of men being “swept off” or “hewn down” with increasing distress.

Voltaire captured some of the sorrow in armed conflict:

At a distance of some three miles they saw two vessels fighting; the wind brought both of them so close to the French vessel that they had a pleasantly comfortable seat to watch the fight. Presently one of the vessels caught the other with a broadside so low and so square as to send it to the bottom. Candide and Martin saw clearly a hundred men on the deck of the sinking ship; they all raised their hands to heaven, uttering fearful shrieks; and in a moment everything was swallowed up.

—Well, said Martin, that is how men treat one another.

—It is true, said Candide, there's something devilish in this business. (Candide or Optimism, trans. Robert M. Adams, 2nd ed. [New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1991], 44)

To which we may append Thomas Paine’s noteworthy criticism:

If men will permit themselves to think, as rational beings ought to think, nothing can appear more ridiculous and absurd, exclusive of all moral reflections, than to be at the expence of building navies, filling them with men, and then hauling them into the ocean, to try which can sink each other fastest.

One man accurately described the conditions incidental to so much warfare, that prevailed on the day Andrew Jackson Council was killed (and quite often in World War I as well):

We had built these breastworks, given them up to the enemy, re-taken them at a very heavy sacrifice and now we had to give them up again. The whole struggle of the afternoon, the lives lost, the suffering inflicted, had all been for nothing. And this was but an example of what was frequently occurring in our army. Marches, skirmishes, battles, all for nothing. (C.I. Walker, Rolls and Historical Sketch of the Tenth Regiment, So. Ca. Volunteers, in the Army of the Confederate States [?: Walker, Evans & Cogwell, Publishers, 1881], 115-116)

There is no more strategic value once the terrain becomes irrelevant and all one sees is the give and take of men locked in mortal combat. Do we have any idea how perilously close we came to recreating the fate of numerous Book of Mormon peoples? Hence Abraham Lincoln’s assertiveness, and what I think is the true cause for our present weakness at home and abroad:

Shall we expect some transatlantic military giant, to step the Ocean, and crush us at a blow? Never!—All the armies of Europe, Asia and Africa combined, with all the treasure of the earth (our own excepted) in their military chest; with a Buonaparte for a commander, could not by force, take a drink from the Ohio, or make a track on the Blue Ridge, in a trial of a thousand years.

At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide. (27 Jan. 1838 speech, in Great Speeches: Abraham Lincoln, ed. John Grafton [New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1991], 2)

I’ve pointed before to some astonishing declamations by Hyrum Smith:

We engage in the election the same as in any other principle: you are to vote for good men, and if you do not do this it is a sin: to vote for wicked men, it would be sin. Choose the good and refuse the evil. Men of false principles have preyed upon us like wolves upon helpless lambs. Damn the rod of tyranny; curse it. Let every man use his liberties according to the Constitution. Don’t fear man or devil; electioneer with all people, male and female, and exhort them to do the thing that is right. We want a President of the U.S., not a party President, but a President of the whole people; for a party President dis[en]franchises the opposite party. Have a President who will maintain every man in his rights.

I wish all of you to do all the good you can. We will try and convert the nation into one solid union. I despise the principle that divides the nation into party and faction. I want it to grow up like a green bay tree. Damn the system of splitting up the nation into opposite belligerent parties. Whatever are the rights of men guaranteed by the Constitution of these United States, let them have them. Then, if we were all in union, no one dare attempt to put a warlike foot on our soil. I don’t like to see the rights of Americans trampled down. (quoted in Jeffrey S. O'Driscoll, Hyrum Smith: A Life of Integrity [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 2003], 325)

All the same, evil asserts itself today and demands our opposition today. There’s definitely pertinence to what Israel’s minister of public security said while surveying their Park Hotel bombing of March 27, 2002: “We knew we couldn’t go after the mosquitoes any longer. It was time to dry out the swamp.” The Nephites, when looking to God and the prophets among them, understood that they would have to fight the Gadianton robbers tooth and nail, life or death, for the long haul. (Afghanistan provides a typical haven.) A unique principle, highly applicable to the makeup of our world today, is that the Lamanites, too, came to a realization that they must root out the robbers from among them. Post-9/11 was a chance for many in the Eastern world to overlook their differences and help the world heal. Instead we got things such as the slightly inflammatory remark from an Oxford-educated Easterner that he had “a soft spot for bin Laden.” That is not to say that many hotblooded and wrongheaded Americans didn’t also take to the streets with hateful misidentification of who their foes really were. I’d resist any man who wanted to kill me and others; I would not resist a man just because of where or how he was born.

The point I hope to make in all this reflection is not that my family rushes eagerly into a fight. I certainly strive to understand warfare for all its brutality and ugliness, to see it as President Hinckley saw it (and I’m also alarmed at how people try to twist his words on the present conflicts to serve one agenda or another, when I thought they were sufficiently plain). What my family does is not strictly embracing warfare, but adapting to it. War is ended sooner by proper engagement. Some of you have heard me quote Augustine, who gave this in the right spirit, regardless of his inaccuracy on other matters: “Peace should be the object of your desire; war should be waged only as a necessity, and waged only that God may by it deliver men from the necessity and preserve them in peace. For peace is not sought in order to kindle war, but war is waged in order that peace may be obtained. Therefore, even in waging war, cherish the spirit of a peace-maker, that, by conquering those whom you attack, you may lead them back to the advantages of peace. . . . Let necessity, therefore, and not your will, slay the enemy who fights against you.” That leads to the crux of it: why are you really fighting, and what do you intend to do upon gaining the victory? Soul-searching answers might sometimes bear genuine justification.

The prophecies make it abundantly clear that there will be war until the Savior comes again. I think oh, so often of Edmund Burke’s statement, called up for use by many prophets: “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” And Elie Wiesel’s absolute acknowledgement of this world’s woes: “I learned that in extreme situations, when human lives and dignity are at stake, neutrality is a sin: it helps the killers, not the victims” (From the Kingdom of Memory: Reminiscences [New York: Summit Books, 1990], 173). I really try to practice turning the other cheek, but I can hardly abide watching this imposed upon others, especially far beyond the point at which defense becomes justifiable!

The Jews are known in the world as lovers of peace—partly because we are sick of murders and bloodshed; partly because our entire survival and our tranquility depend upon peace; and partly because we are the descendants of Isaiah the prophet and are closest to his universal human ideal. But this time peace would be our downfall; we would simply be wiped off the face of Europe. (Scroll of Agony: the Warsaw Diary of Chaim A. Kaplan, trans. and ed. Abraham I. Katsh [New York: The Macmillan Company, 1965], 164)

Among other things, it’s high time in world history for righteous Gentiles to share in the depth of feeling recorded in scripture, to “be sorry for thee—thy desolation and destruction, and the famine and the sword,” to appreciate the Lord’s promises that He will “put [the cup of fury] into the hand of them that afflict thee; who have said to thy soul: Bow down, that we may go over” (2 Nephi 8:19, 23). “We have not yet finished pleading on behalf of the Jews who during the holocaust accepted death without a fight, and already we are forced to defend other Jews who, one generation later, do fight—and fight well—because they refuse to die” (Elie Wiesel, One Generation After [New York: Random House, 1970], 152). That much, and more, to be said in defense of the innocent.

In this day where the sentiment is rampant of crying “Peace, peace; when there is no peace” (Jeremiah 8:11, 15; see Ezekiel 13:1-16, and so many other scriptures that talk about the people rewarding false prophets and putting down those with the temerity to tell the truth), the bold tactician Moshe Dayan has commented on the “assorted choir of 'peace-at-any-price' enthusiasts— particularly when the price does not have to be paid by them” (Diary of the Sinai Campaign [Norwalk, Connecticut: The Easton Press, 1993], 114). Dayan also (Ibid., 13) quoted Ben Gurion: “If our rights are assailed by acts of violence on land or sea, we shall reserve freedom of action to defend those rights in the most effective manner. We seek peace—but not suicide.”

My family is stirred by Thomas Paine’s emotions:

THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated.

I once felt all that kind of anger, which a man ought to feel, against the mean principles that are held by the Tories: a noted one, who kept a tavern at Amboy, was standing at his door, with as pretty a child in his hand, about eight or nine years old, as I ever saw, and after speaking his mind as freely as he thought was prudent, finished with this unfatherly expression, "Well! give me peace in my day." Not a man lives on the continent but fully believes that a separation must some time or other finally take place, and a generous parent should have said, "If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace;" and this single reflection, well applied, is sufficient to awaken every man to duty. Not a place upon earth might be so happy as America. . . . I am as confident, as I am that God governs the world, that America will never be happy till she gets clear of foreign dominion. Wars, without ceasing, will break out till that period arrives, and the continent must in the end be conqueror; for though the flame of liberty may sometimes cease to shine, the coal can never expire. . . .

Say not that thousands are gone, turn out your tens of thousands; throw not the burden of the day upon Providence, but "show your faith by your works," that God may bless you. It matters not where you live, or what rank of life you hold, the evil or the blessing will reach you all. The far and the near, the home counties and the back, the rich and the poor, will suffer or rejoice alike. The heart that feels not now is dead; the blood of his children will curse his cowardice, who shrinks back at a time when a little might have saved the whole, and made them happy. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death. My own line of reasoning is to myself as straight and clear as a ray of light. Not all the treasures of the world, so far as I believe, could have induced me to support an offensive war, for I think it murder; but if a thief breaks into my house, burns and destroys my property, and kills or threatens to kill me, or those that are in it, and to "bind me in all cases whatsoever" to his absolute will, am I to suffer it? . . .

There are persons, too, who see not the full extent of the evil which threatens them; they solace themselves with hopes that the enemy, if he succeed, will be merciful. It is the madness of folly, to expect mercy from those who have refused to do justice; and even mercy, where conquest is the object, is only a trick of war; the cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence of the wolf, and we ought to guard equally against both.

This is the same man who beat the drum for every “patriot dream that sees beyond the years,” and hero who in liberating strife “more than self their country loved, and mercy more than life” (Hymn 338):

But where, says some, is the King of America? I'll tell you. Friend, he reigns above.

That meshes perfectly with 2 Nephi 10:14.

John Jacob Mueller, aka Jacob Miller, among the “young, healthy and industrious people” to participate in de Graffenried’s settlement of New Bern, North Carolina, survived a voyage that claimed the lives of more than half, and then a Tuscarora uprising that claimed another third, to say at the end of his life, “In God’s name, I, Jacob Miller, of ye Palatinate country, being in new land, be it known openly that ye Lord God in North Carolina in America brought me here and blest me with worldly goods.” (This meshes perfectly with 2 Nephi 1:5-7. My family has little difficulty retaining “in remembrance the captivity of [our] fathers” (Alma 5:6) physically (1 Nephi 13:13, 16, 19) and spiritually.) Miller also took in two orphans from the Indian battles, one of whom became another ancestor. His grandson, naturally, fought in the Revolution. I like his great-granddaughter’s tombstone, with her husband’s:

“A HOLY GOOD WOMAN GOOD CHARACTER”
“AN HONEST MANS THE NOBLEST WORK OF GOD”

What will not do, when rousing oneself to action, is completely ignoring the ancient order of battle given by God Himself (see Alma 43:45-47; D&C 98:23-48). The Nephites did not prosper when conducting an offensive war on other than non-vindictive, righteous principles. Nevertheless, the prophecy that “every man that will not take his sword against his neighbor must needs flee unto Zion for safety” (D&C 45:68) ought to be understood in the fullest context. Zion will not be in internal conflict, and it will be a city of peace, but the nations will be terrified of it. Is this to rule out all possibility of forays from Zion to rescue some?

If a Swinson is ever found with a bullet in his back, the explanation had better be: element of surprise, or unexpected moral imperative. I say this as the eleventh generation in America, with five of those generations having served in seven wars. William Swinson was with the Continental Army at White Plains, one of the first places where Americans showed that they were willing to stand up to the murderous bayonet charge of the world’s best troops, and now the location of a peaceful temple. He, perhaps even unfortunately in his own opinion, was likely not engaged in the close quarters combat, but he was later entitled to land for his service during the war. He also was not one of those sunshine patriots afraid to reenlist after three years. His brother, my direct ancestor, Richard Swinson III, drew pension from the War Department—for his service in the North Carolina continental line—much later in life when he was nearly blind and his wife had hobbled for years on account of an injury to her right leg. He reported that he had not been able to cut his firewood all that winter. The VA motto, expressed by President Lincoln, goes back in spirit quite a long time: “To care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow, and his orphan.”

My family has always grasped the fact that somebody’s loved one has to put it all on the line. Our mothers do not shrink at the thought that it could be their boy who does not come home, so long as it is either “return with honor” or “die with valor.” Apparently when my aunt was recently asked about how she coped with my cousin serving overseas, she said she managed not to really worry about it.

Swinsons will always be minute men, as long as there is an America, and everyone who enters this family accepts that honorable burden. In the three great loyalties of God, family, and country, there’s little truth to the argument that—even in death—one is abandoning one’s family when fighting to defend all that preserves family life. (See, again, the Paine quote above.) I recently heard a rather twangy rendition which nonetheless contained multiple elements of truth; I choose to focus on the lines “And if love never lasts forever, tell me what’s forever for?” What is earthly peril in comparison with eternal love?

In fact, I see proper patriotism as an extension of appropriate love: “A man filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing his family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith, 426). “Warfare is a mighty strange way to show love,” one may say. Why, so it is. Admittedly so. I’ll never in a decade find enough time and room to fully explain myself, but I’m giving it a valiant go. There seems no shortage of maniacal despots and genocidal armies deserving of opposition in a warlike world. We’re so exhausted emerging from “the bloodiest century” that we’re disposed toward imagining that our civilization has advanced beyond such means of settling disputes. One of the only differences that I see is a willingness to throw others to the wolves as long as we can preserve the semblance of peace. Is there no pause for thought in President Faust’s foreseeing statement? (I don’t say farseeing, only because it’s right on top of us!) “You may be among those who will defend a way of life on the battlefields” (Ensign, May 2007, 56).

Okay, I can’t resist the chance to brag about my Granddad Swinson’s generation: between five brothers there were 119 years of active duty and another 31 years of reserve. One of their cousins, another descendant of Starkey Swinson, never rose again from the beaches of Normandy. My Great-Granddad Swinson had the disappointment of being told his knee troubles disqualified him from service in World War I. Their second cousin, Clarence D. Fordham, was killed in World War I. (I like the quote atop this website listing his name. It’s kind of reminiscent of Jarom 1:10 and Helaman 12:3, to name a few.) We have been very pointedly warned about the evil forces in these last days (Ether 8:20-26, for instance). I also enjoy the quaint site put up by a cousin—meaning I’m related to a lot of names on his list, including Burnside and Sheffield—but don’t go there unless you’re in a situation to play music!

Granddad Swinson had this habit of volunteering for every possible bombing mission that came his way, heedless of danger. (Have you ever seen the casualty statistics for the Air Force in World War II?) He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for successfully leaving formation (which often meant certain death, drawing focused fire) to get a bomber back to base over the Alps, while experiencing multiple engine failure. He’d advanced from co-pilot when the primary pilot simply cracked. I cherish a recording in my possession where he described those times when he quite literally took a lot of flak. Later on in his career he saw no problem with flying a bunch of scientists through a typhoon. My dad thought his bruises were from being in a fight. I only recently learned that one of his nicknames in the Philippines was “Chinese Ace” because of all the cheap planes he crash landed. (“Hawk” in Space Cowboys—which sure is dirty in places—reminds me of Granddaddy.) This gives little warrant for my two car crashes in which both my own and the other vehicle were totaled, and I always walked away. After the second one, I was upset with my family for insisting that I stay home from work the following day. Sure, I was very sore, but I was also very bored! One of life’s little lessons: one ought always to be doing something, for the suffering doesn’t go away with complete inaction!

My dad volunteered for the draft with Vietnam. Then he was repeatedly denied his request to be sent to the combat zone. Finally, when he was Soldier of the Month at Fort Bragg, a lieutenant colonel informed him that with test scores like his there was no chance he’d be sent to the front lines. He was given the choice to stay and work with that commanding officer, or—as he did—join Army Intelligence. With the outbreak of the first Gulf War, Dad sought to reenlist, but was again denied. He spent his career in the civilian employ of the federal government. (There's a reason I was born in northern Virginia, not far from where Richard Swinson I first entered America around 1675.) Dad's younger brother recently retired from service to the United States of America that took him all over the world. This is not altogether commentary on the rightness or wrongness of conflicts, but a simple statement about my compelling duty to carry on the proper aspects of a hereditary fearlessness.

Perhaps few federal employees these days take their oath with the eagerness I did:

"I, _______, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

Long before swearing this, I saw it as my privilege—especially and including against domestic foes. Like covenants, including the marriage vow, this is not to be broken until the other party should choose to dissolve it, irredeemably, by persistent violation. By this, I mean total violation of everything that even makes this a country at all; recall the Saints’ devotion long after they were driven into the wilderness by unpunished mobs. They were still committed to the constitutional principles that could yet be revived in the fainting heart of Americans. Woe betide those who rightfully drew upon themselves God’s fury in smiting this nation for its abandonment of the Constitution!

And it is no American at all that would feel this expression nullifies my capacity to be of service to this country: at My Lai, I would have fired upon our own troops. I believe in a harsh justice against those who tarnish the image and ideals of the true American soldier. As with the Church, so with the nation: its worst foes seem to come from within. Church history also reveals true patriotism in the face of abuse of power:

Having an opportunity of speaking to General Wilson, I inquired of him why I was thus treated. I told him I was not aware of having done anything worthy of such treatment; that I had always been a supporter of the Constitution and of democracy. His answer was, “I know it, and that is the reason why I want to kill you, or have you killed.” (HC, 3:191)

These were the events that produced General Doniphan’s courageous stand:

It is cold-blooded murder. I will not obey your order. My brigade shall march for Liberty tomorrow morning, at 8 o’clock; and if you execute these men, I will hold you responsible before an earthly tribunal, so help me God.

At a very young age I knew many such names as Patton, Nimitz, MacArthur (note his quote in the third paragraph of the Wikipedia article), and Eisenhower. In fact, I remember at age five pretending to be Audie Murphy taking out a machine gun nest. (I practiced fairly good maneuvers! But all through the years, whatever game or scenario I was involved in, I never could master use of a navy or properly defend Australia.) I also remember my father’s fondness for the Johnny Horton tunes of “The Battle of 1814,” “Sink the Bismarck,” and “The Bloody Red Baron” (nothing to do with that Snoopy song), as well as the traditional Armed Forces song (along with a few curious variations). The practically contradictory desires for spiritual growth and martial expression grew up together in my youth. For the most part, my neighborhood play resulted in nicknames such as “Moses,” never “Killer” or “Scarface.” (They were perplexed at my frequent reaction to waterfights, once I’d been nicked—what do you do about someone who doesn’t mind how much he’s hit, he just charges straight at you? I similarly learned that, in laser tag, when your opponents held all the higher ground they had more difficulty striking a rapidly upward moving target than one who cowered below, subject to all sorts of unanticipated crossfire.) For Lorenzo Snow, a similar conflict terminated with what properly comes first:

Not to be armed with carnal weapons, and to be decked with glittering badges and costly equipage, to march forth in the pomp and pride of battle array, for the shedding of human blood: but to go “forth without purse or scrip,” clothed in the power of the Gospel of the Son of God, wielding the sword of the Spirit of the Almighty, he now takes the field to battle with the powers of darkness, priestcraft, superstition, and wickedness, until the kingdoms of this world shall become the kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. (Eliza R. Snow Smith, Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow [rep. Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1999; orig. Salt Lake City: Deseret News Company, Printers, 1884], 6-7)

There is a truly novel, largely untested idea for eliminating Gadiantons:

Therefore they did forsake all their sins, and their abominations, and their whoredoms, and did serve God with all diligence day and night.

And now it came to pass that when they had taken all the robbers prisoners, insomuch that none did escape who were not slain, they did cast their prisoners into prison, and did cause the word of God to be preached unto them; and as many as would repent of their sins and enter into a covenant that they would murder no more were set at liberty.

But as many as there were who did not enter into a covenant, and who did still continue to have those secret murders in their hearts, yea, as many as were found breathing out threatenings against their brethren were condemned and punished according to the law.

And thus they did put an end to all those wicked, and secret, and abominable combinations, in the which there was so much wickedness, and so many murders committed. (3 Nephi 5:3-6)

We should try a little more faith-by which I mean practice, not some odd form of idleness-in President McKay’s famous expression: “Every world problem may be solved by obedience to the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ” (GI, 5). The word is vastly superior (Alma 31:5) to the sword, but they are not mutually exclusive! I will say, however, that it is an impoverished religion indeed—to put it bluntly, false—that does not commend itself to the prepared mind by freedom of choice, or would want it any other way. John Locke wrote in his A Letter Concerning Toleration, “No way whatsoever that I shall walk in against the dictates of my conscience, will ever bring me to the mansions of the blessed. I may grow rich by an art that I take not delight in; I may be cured of some disease by remedies that I have not faith in; but I cannot be saved by a religion that I distrust, and by a worship that I abhor.”

Naught pertaining to the mind can or should be enforced by the sword—its purposes are for self-defense, not matters of religious conviction, except for the conviction that defends virtuous principles. However, thoughts translated into harmful acts can be punished. Necessity dictates some firm courses of action.

Hiding behind a sham history of Christianity (up to, including, and beyond the Crusades) will not do when confronted with stark realities of this world’s upcoming crises:

Very few people today recall . . . that Theodosius, the Roman emperor who was called "the Great," helped make the Nicene Creed survive by having 30,000 Arian Christians killed during a single night in an amphitheater.

Several hundred years after Theodosius, Charlemagne established Christianity very zealously as a unifying power in his kingdom. When the Saxons did not submit to the emperor's will and become Christians quickly enough, he invited, in A.D. 782, 4,500 noble sons of the Saxons to a meeting in Verden an der Aller. He had all of them killed. This was how Christianity was introduced to my own ancestors. (F. Enzio Busche, Yearning for the Living God: Reflections from the Life of F. Enzio Busche, comp. Tracie A. Lamb [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 2004], 286)

I mention the crises that Michael Evans has sensed:

Now, even if 90 percent of the Islamic world is peaceful, as Prince Khalid assured me, it still places the planet at the brink of the greatest crisis in history. Even if 99.9 percent of the Islamic world is completely nonviolent, we are still in grave danger. If only one-tenth of 1 percent of all Muslims were radical Islamists, that is still a staggering number: It means that one million people are intent on killing us. It took only nineteen hijackers to wreak massive destruction on the United States on September 11. Each one of those men believed he was on a divine assignment from God.

This is concerning a religion with no centralized authority and whose abusers seem to emerge from the worst socioeconomic conditions. As part of the love that ranges through the whole world blessing others, I perceive a mission to share the Constitution, which is “for the rights and protection of all flesh” (D&C 101:77). That is not to say that everyone must adopt it, or duplicate it so precisely. Democracy (if that term can be properly used, when one thinks of the actual Greek background) by its very definition cannot be imposed. But I do believe in freeing people sufficiently from the tyranny of others to make their own choices on the matter. This is also why, in the struggle for world peace, I contend that it often requires at least a generation (say 15-20 years) to really guarantee the peace and help other nations to their feet.

Do we ever consider that many ingredients exist for catastrophic Biblical fulfillment? That hostilities already vented might conceivably turn into deadly warfare, laying waste to our gates and standing at the very gates of Jerusalem?

Behold, I will make Jerusalem a cup of trembling unto all the people round about, when they shall be in the siege both against Judah and against Jerusalem.

And in that day will I make Jerusalem a burdensome stone for all people: all that burden themselves with it shall be cut in pieces, though all the people of the earth be gathered together against it. (Zechariah 12:2-3)

We daily experience such critiquing as appeared in a March 2008 letter to Fortune:

The price of democratizing a foreign nation is far too steep for any government's comfort. Perhaps Washington should seriously rethink such unprofitable and life-wasting endeavors.

That all depends upon what the price really is and who’s paying it, right? Such cynical thoughts run directly counter to President Joseph F. Smith’s (and many others’):

I have a feeling in my heart that the United States has a glorious destiny to fulfil, and that part of that glorious destiny is to extend liberty to the oppressed, as far as it is possible to all nations, to all people. . . . I do not want war; but the Lord has said it shall be poured out upon all nations, and if we escape, it will be “by the skin of our teeth.” I would rather the oppressors should be killed, or destroyed, than to allow the oppressors to kill the innocent. (The Prophets Have Spoken, 2:388)

In this process, I’m inclined to agree more with this assessment of the still wartorn Middle East:

The pessimism and self-hatred of the post-Christian West, however, should not color our vision of what the Allied forces achieved in Iraq: a stunning victory, the destruction of a cruel and vicious terror-allied regime, and a new breath of hope and life for the Arab world, where the idea of free elections will now be harder to suppress and Arab hostility might be directed against their own city councilmen, mayors, and parliamentarians rather than the phantasms of conspiring international Jewry and the Crusaders of the West. (H. W. Crocker III, Don't Tread on Me: A 400-Year History of America at War, from Indian Fighting to Terrorist Hunting [New York: Crown Forum, 2006], 396-397)

I would similarly plead that we not let media bites color our image of the shadowy al-Qaeda. Does it really follow, logically, that withdrawal from anything, anywhere will actually appease them? Are they ever going to stop trying to kill us? It may well be—and I don’t lay this down as definite doctrine—that if we don’t have a staging ground to resist them abroad, then they will resume destroying us at home, where civilians and military personnel are hopelessly mingled in uncomfortably close quarters. I undergo extreme sorrow for the suffering of the Iraqis; in part, this is why I see an incomplete job as worse than sticking through to the end for our dear fellowmen. I also—unlike nearly everyone else???—gain a tremendous lesson from our lack of commitment to the Vietnam issue, complex though it was, and what the fall of Saigon meant for the South Vietnamese.

We never deny the mission, by default, to proclaim peace.

Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in sight of all men.

If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.

Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. (Romans 12:17-19)

We want to be “the peaceable followers of Christ” (Moroni 7:3; see Hebrews 12:14), but this does not preclude the possibility of a standing army and preparations to enforce peaceful conditions. Captain Moroni, who comes with the highest character recommendation, “did not stop making preparations for war, or to defend his people . . . . But behold there never was a happier time among the people of Nephi, since the days of Nephi, than in the days of Moroni” (Alma 50:1, 23). He did not delight in bloodshed, but he certainly had the stomach to get the job done. (I think my ancestors unknowingly followed the Teancum model.)

During the meeting of the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia, one of the members moved “that the standing army be restricted to 5000 men at any one time.” George Washington, being the chairman, could not offer a motion, but he turned to another member and whispered, “Amend the motion to provide that no foreign enemy shall invade the United States at any time with more than 3000 troops.” (from Patriots off Their Pedestals, c1927, 1955 by Paul Wilstach (Bobbs-Merrill), in Reader's Digest Treasury of Wit & Humor [Pleasantville, New York: The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc., 1958], 313) (Other sources place the enemy forces at “more than five thousand troops.”)

Have you ever known an itty bitty dog that thought it was a Doberman? We actually owned one, and his name was Beauregard (“Beau”), for the Civil War general whom another ancestor, Davis Lane Cornwell, allegedly served as secretary briefly. I just haven’t ever taken the time to verify this, since it didn’t seem as important as identifying new individuals.

If I talk about my family, it is not that I am someone because of who they were, but because I want to be someone because of who they were. Can you imagine the pressure I feel with their gaze upon me? That notion of lots of bark coming from an astonishingly little critter applies to me. My best friend once stated about me, “If you read his dreams, you’d know he is a warrior.” (I’ve occasionally kept a log.) He also gave another flattering assessment in ‘96 to the BYU acceptance committee, including that my intelligence “seems an ideal balance of ‘right brain’ and ‘left brain’ faculties.” (I’ve wished I had more of my father’s street smarts—he could be dropped off anywhere in the world and work his way out again.)

I’ll share snatches of two of my more passive dreams:

12/27/99

Then I was in a darkened building in the midst of a similarly dark social setting. I started wending my way out of the building past several doors and niches containing people that I honestly believed were lying in wait for me. I reached a large room that couldn't have been far from the exit. A large group loudly entered the room and attempted to seal the exit off. They were quite a raucous mob.

I exclaimed, “God is a man of war and will fight my battles.” At that moment there were several claps of thunder and the lighting went up considerably from its previously gloomy condition. They jumped back and didn't seem to know what to do for several moments, but then a man with an incredibly evil leer came forward. There was a little child on the ground at his feet (with perhaps 10 feet separating us). He raised a knife and stated something to the effect of, “You see this? What does your God and your law tell you to do now?” I could not upon awakening understand my reasons for so calmly doing so, but I stepped forward to take the child's place. They leapt upon me, and I FELT knives entering my body—especially penetrating my heart.

(Apparently I drew that phrase from the song of the children of Israel after crossing through the Red Sea.)

January 2003

These were tumultuous times. Somehow I wound up in prison. They proceeded to torture me in various ways, the last method attempted being a basic assault of noise and propaganda. I withstood it all and simply recited gospel teachings in my mind for hours on end. (It’s good that I possessed this in my head, as my library had been destroyed. . . . More urgency to commit what I can to memory.)

Some unusual influence procured my release. On my way out I passed a newcomer who was being committed. Ignoring the guard who was ushering me out, I told this young man, “They'll call it opposed to their government; be that as it may, we need more people willing to speak the truth.”

Returning to the matter of my ancestors’ examples, I must say that the South is where the British knew the American Revolution would be prosecuted to completion. Little did they know how things would go! For the longest time as a child I was puzzled by the great lengths described by people in establishing membership in the Daughters of the American Revolution. With the merest glance, I could join by direct descent from at least eighteen men. (One of whom I’m descended from three times, but we won’t get into that.) Even reputable sources confirm the difficulty in establishing who served with the elusive Swamp Fox, so though James Kirby is on the official registries, at the present time I have to go with the DAR's supposedly rigid requirements for establishing my mother's direct paternal ancestor, Byrd Ferrell. Much farther back, the Irishman Hubert Farrell (Hubbard Ferrell, etc.) was mortally wounded in his efforts to apprehend Nathaniel Bacon and put an end to his 1676 rebellion.

Upon the commencement of hostilities in the American Revolution, two of the five representatives of St. Matthew’s Parish in Georgia were my ancestors: John Flerl and Jacob Casper Waldhauer. They continued to serve the cause of the war. Two of Waldhauer’s brothers fought up in Pennsylvania. One of his letters, translated from German, gives some idea of how terrible the war got in the South—at a later time when he’d grown too old to fight any more:

The misery, trouble, and distress were almost indescribably great, since the armies in turn passed through for 4 years, and kept garrisons in Eben Ezer, especially when the looting parties invaded. They killed young Joseph Schubdrein and young Schiele, and wounded George Ziegler, Johann Hangleiter, Lucas Ziegler, and old Schiele, and pillaged so completely that some families could not bake any more and had to go for bread. Aside from that, the fornicator reigned very much. Of the members of the congregation who signed the Eben Ezer church constitution 45 are still alive, of these 31 are still dispersed, and 57 in eternity. . . .

Joseph Schubdrein, . . . is executor together with me. . . . Mr. Schubdrein persuaded me to move to the plantation of the deceased woman. I moved there, but this step gave me misery, a cross and distress beyond measure, for apart from what the troops ate almost daily in the house, without paying, they killed cattle and pigs, and one night they took all the poultry, so that except for a few pigeons not a feather was left behind. If I said anything, then I was a rebel; if they were Americans, I had to be a Tory. And so the looting parties came so often . . . . (The Georgia Historical Quarterly, vol. XLIX, no. 4, 440)

Waldhauer had a brother, Andrew Walthour, who was among the refugees from Ebenezer and distinguished himself for helping to terrorize the Tories along the Georgia coastline. (The name and geographical differences among the Waldhauers is due to their own wanderlust, and not to poor research.) Considering his wild acts in those days, it’s interesting that his tombstone says:

His gravity and propriety of deportment
his strict integrity, his readiness to promote
the public and private welfare by the wealth
which his industry had amassed, will cause his
memory long to be respected.

I’m also related to the Lucas Ziegler he names who was wounded—but escaped and had to hide—during the capture of Ebenezer, which resulted in desecration of their church and the eventual annihilation of that community’s livelihood.

I’m thinking of another group of ancestors, who lived up to Washington’s supposed statement:

If all else fails, I will retreat up the valley of Virginia, plant my flag on the Blue Ridge, rally around the Scotch-Irish of that region, and make my last stand for liberty amongst a people who will never submit to British tyranny whilst there is a man left to draw a trigger.

George Reid, of backwoods South Carolina, hosted some representatives of a northern Council of Safety back in 1775, and his son, Samuel, served as their courier. A bare summary of his later contributions to the war effort, from a source sketchy on the ancestry but correct on the fundamentals of the military history:

In 1775 Capt. George Reid commanded a company under Major Williamson at Ninety Six in the first land battle with the British in the Southern States. He later entered the Continental army as a Captain in the militia, but was later promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and served under the then General Williamson from 1779 until 1782. He was at the siege of Savannah and probably was also at Cowpens, Charleston, and the siege of Ninety Six in 1781. George was 61 years old at the conclusion of his military service, which was ancient considering the eighteenth century life expectancy, and which certainly would have made him one of the oldest active duty officers in the American Army. . . .

There was probably no family in the country more fully represented in the Revolution than the Reid family of Ninety Six District. George’s sons Samuel and Joseph were both officers in the State Militia, and all three of George’s daughters married State Militia Officers. . . .

After reciting some of Samuel’s battles . . .

He was stationed at Beech Island when the British captured Charleston, whereupon his commanding General took British protection, i.e., for all practical purposes, surrendering. In a short time, in Samuel’s words, “finding this would not do, a few of us collected in Indian Country, and pledging ourselves”, marched under General Pickens and joined the main army under Generals Greene and Morgan in Salisbury, N.C. . . .

Joseph fought throughout the war and engaged in numerous battles in North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia. He took part in the siege and Battle of Ninety Six. He was in the Battle of Guilford Courthouse, North Carolina on March 15, 1781 . . . It is probable that Joseph served in the Battle of Cowpens, as well as Kettle Creek and Savannah. . . . (foreword to Wayne Alexander Reid, The 1860 Diary of Lemuel Reid, an Abbeville District, South Carolina Planter [Melbourne, FL: 1994], 7-8)

The evidence actually does bear out that this Joseph Reid participated at Kings Mountain, where the outraged Americans won a decisive victory.

Another ancestor, one of George’s sons-in-law, William Baskin Jr., came from a similarly gung-ho Scotch-Irish clan.

There are also more religiously poised examples of courage for me to draw upon: persecution of Huguenots (Charles LaPierre—it’s not bad to be descended from him three ways—and the family (Roques) of—including—his dearly beloved wife, who chose to leave her two young children a legacy even greater than that of a mother restored to their home), and Salzburgers, and undoubtedly of Jews, if I can but finally prove that connection. For now, I feel in accord with Tolkien:

Shortly before the Second World War, a German publisher was interested in buying the rights to translate The Hobbit into German. The publishing house asked if Tolkien was an Aryan. Tolkien was outraged. He replied that the term meant nothing. If, however, the publisher was in fact asking if he had any Jewish blood, he regretted that this was not the case. He would have liked, he said, to have some connection to such a gifted people, but sadly he did not. He did, however, he added, have close Jewish friends. And, as a final suggestion, would these German people with their insane ideas please go and hang themselves because he wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. This was at a time when some leading politicians and writers were flirting with Nazism. (Michael Coren, J.R.R. Tolkien: The Man Who Created the Lord of the Rings [New York, New York: Scholastic, 2001], 95)

I’m so proud of our nation for this sort of noble beginning:

President Washington received many official greetings from voluntary associations and religious groups upon taking office. His formal response to one of these—the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island—made a contribution as significant as Jefferson's Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom. In 1790, he wrote:

It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it were by the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights, for, happily, the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.

As Claremont professor Henry Jaffa has pointed out, this was the first time in human history that any ruler addressed the Jews as equals. President Washington closed his letter with these gentle words, taken from Scripture: "May the Children of the Stock of Abraham, who dwell in this land, continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other inhabitants; while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree, and there shall be none to make him afraid." (William J. Bennett, America: The Last Best Hope, Volume 1: From the Age of Discovery to a World at War, 1492-1914 [Nashville, Tennessee: Nelson Current, 2006], 141)

I can also wholeheartedly take part in what President Kimball mentioned:

I would be proud if I had Lamanite blood in me and would not hesitate to announce it. . . .

There are numerous white people who have Indian blood in their veins who now are beginning to point to it with pride, whereas in the old days it was a matter to be kept in the background. (TSWK, 600)

While some of my ancestors were fighting the Indians, another ancestor decided to enter into a union with a Cherokee. The story of one of their descendants, written by letter from Cannoneer W. M. Larke to Simeon S. Kirby’s sister in 1899, is an inspiration to me (and explains why his military record says he was “promoted from the ranks”):

I was with him constantly through 65 and I can say a more pure minded, noble, generous Christian man never lived. He would mingle with his men which was rare among the Officers. He would try to point us to a higher and holier life. Every man under him would have divided their last crust with him or died for him if necessary but God willed it otherwise. I believe God took him to that upper and better world where congregations never part and Sabbaths never end and all is peace and love.

At Rivers Bridge we made our stand against the enemy. Our cannons placed behind breast works where we could command the bridge, the road and the swamps on either side of the river. Here we fought for two days and part of two nights. Every man had to do what sleeping he could right at his post and what little we got to eat we had to eat at our post fighting. . . . During the battle your brother would jump up on the breast work and look down in the bottom to see what the Yanks were doing and I had to pull him off at least a dozen times for the bullets were whistling over the breastworks like hail. I looked for him to be killed any minute but he was a man that had no fear in him except the religious fear of God.

Just before we got orders to retreat Lt. Kirby was reading his [New] Testament when Major White came by and said “Lieutenant this [is] no time for reading books[“] and when he had hardly got the words out of his mouth is when Lieutenant Kirby threw his hands up to his chest and said “Oh Lordy” and sank to his knees. . . . His blood spurted out of the lower side corners of his Testament and colored all the leaves through the Books of Acts to Romans. I picked up the book and put it into my pocket intending to give it to some of his people, but time has passed and I never heard of any of his people being alive until I wrote the State News Paper inquiring if any of his people were alive. Lieutenant Kirby was killed by a sharp shooter that slipped up within 20 or 30 steps of our breast works and got behind a log and shot through the port holes to kill the gunners. He disabled two of our gunners besides killing our Lieutenant Kirby. He also hit the cannon wheel right by my shoulder and the bullet bounded and fell on my shoulder. Then the next time he shot he cut a lock of hair off my head. Then the next bullet grazed my neck and I have the scar there now for the bullet came so hard it like to have knocked me down. . . .

We put Lt. Kirby on the casion of the cannon and carried his body to Branchville and put him on a train to Darlington SC. I now have a [son] named Kirby after my beloved Lieutenant.

(I trust that his last two words were not taking the Lord’s name in vain, but a prayer of familiarity, much like the Prophet Joseph’s final words. If you visit the link to Simeon’s name, take note of one of the most beautiful epitaphs I’ve ever read.)

His brother—my direct ancestor—got a little more notice of his impending death, but faced it with a similar faith in patient resignation. They lost another brother to combat, so that only one boy survived in that family, though he was wounded.

Yes, it is truly better to suffer evil than give it, to revile not again when reviled against, “love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” There is also a great deal of temporal and spiritual intelligence in recognizing the time to rise up and acquit ourselves like valiant men and women.

So in the mead-hall at the moot had Offa said one day,
That many there spoke boldly who at need would fall away. ("The Battle of Maldon," in Albert S. Cook and Chauncey B. Tinker, Selected Translations from Old English Poetry [Boston: Ginn & Company, Publishers, 1902], 39)

“Wherefore, when I came, there was no man; when I called, yea, there was none to answer” (2 Nephi 7:2) is, again, fitting in spiritual and physical senses.

So few these days cherish our country’s foundations. Hence my sorrow lived through a dream (March 6, 2000):

The other night I had a dream that of a roomful of people I was the only one to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. I did so proudly. I further realized (in the dream) that I was absolutely the only one speaking during the “one nation under God” portion.

These particular sentiments resonate with me:

In the late 1960s . . . I recall seeing a news photograph of a protesting student in the days of the Vietnam War. He was carrying a sign with the words "Nothing is worth dying for." I remember thinking then, as I do so today, that if there is nothing worth dying for in our America, then there is truly nothing here worth living for, either.

I watched the war with Iraq with pride, but could not help marveling, "Where do we keep getting these young men and women? Where do they come from?" It's amazing that our country produces them when we consider how many young people on our college campuses and workplaces do not have this love of country and a willingness to die for it. Amnesia has either set in or there is total apathy about what has transpired in our history and the huge price that has been paid for freedom. The history of freedom should be a required course just as there once was on the history of Western civilization.

Hubris is best defined as "outrageous arrogance." And if you study the lessons of history, which, as I said, we don't anymore, you would find that hubris has time and time again brought down powerful civilizations. We are in grave danger of that happening today. There is no greater example of outrageous arrogance than in Hollywood, from those who live in a make-believe world and think they carry more influence than they do. (Zell Miller, A National Party No More: The Conscience of a Conservative Democrat [Atlanta, Georgia: Stroud & Hall Publishing, 2003], 203; see THWH, 170)

Along similar lines:

There is a sad malaise in America today, a failure of nerve, a lack of will. People say: "I don't want to run the world; I just want to go home." There is doubt about the justness not only of our cause, but of any cause. Sentimentalism is a chorus of "Who is to say?" The question denies that men can know what is right and wrong. But somebody thinks he knows, and somebody is going to run the world. And if it is run by criminals, we will learn to know the difference too—too late. . . . This is the war we walked away from because we failed to believe our cause is just. Whose is, then—theirs? Or have we sunk below the level of civilized behavior and said: We are a people who do not believe that any cause is just, who do not believe in justice? Ours is the generation about whom it will not be said that "this was their finest hour" but that they went home. (John Senior, The Death of Christian Culture [New Rochelle, New York: Arlington House, 1978], 116-117)

Have we forgotten, in this land “redeemed . . . by the shedding of blood” (D&C 101:80), how precious freedom is? Do we suppose there is no more price to be paid, in a continually worsening world? “Can you think to sit upon your thrones in a state of thoughtless stupor, while your enemies are spreading the work of death around you? . . . Behold, could ye suppose that ye could sit upon your thrones, and because of the exceeding goodness of God ye could do nothing and he would deliver you?” (Alma 60:7, 11).

The hard work is conducted by the men behind the armaments. I pray that America will always differ from other armies among the nations. “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city” (Proverbs 16:32). I have long felt that the nature with which we treat our vanquished foes, along with other humanitarian missions, distinguishes us from all other armies throughout history, in contradiction of how President Taylor defined usual history: "You read history, and what is it? A history of the depopulation of the nations, brought on by the overthrow of empires, and through the tyranny and ambition of wicked men, who have waded through seas of blood in order to possess themselves of that power which they now enjoy" (JD, 5:187).

President Joseph F. Smith:

I exhort my friends, the people of our country, especially in this intermountain region, to maintain above all other things the spirit of humanity, of love, and of peace-making, that even though they may be called into action they will not demolish, override and destroy the principles which we believe in, which we have tried to inculcate, and which we are exhorted to maintain; peace and good will toward all mankind, though we may be brought into action with the enemy. I want to say to the Latter-day Saints who may enlist, and whose services the country may require, that when they become soldiers of the State and of the Nation that they will not forget that they are also soldiers of the Cross, that they are ministers of life and not of death; and when they go forth, they may go forth in the spirit of defending the liberties of mankind rather than for the purpose of destroying the enemy. If we could convert them to peaceful ways and to the love of peace without destroying them, we would become saviors of men. And it is abominable that man who engage in the great and grand and necessary duty of protecting and guarding our Nation from the encroachments of wicked enemies, cruel and destructive foes, should not maintain among themselves lives of honor, virtue, purity and of immunity from sin and crime of every kind. It is a disgraceful thought that a man to become a soldier should become a rake and abandon himself to crime and wickedness. Let the soldiers that go out from Utah be and remain men of honor. And when they are called obey the call, and manfully meet the duty, the dangers, or the labor, that may be required of them, or that they may be set to do; but do it with an eye single to the accomplishment of the good that is aimed to be accomplished, and not with the blood-thirsty desire to kill and to destroy.

Charity, or love, is the greatest principle in existence. If we can lend a helping hand to the oppressed, if we can aid those who are despondent and in sorrow, if we can uplift and ameliorate the condition of mankind, it is our mission to do it, it is an essential part of our religion to do it. (CR, Apr. 1917, 3-4)

John Adams wisely warned:

Posterity—you will never know how much it has cost my generation to preserve your freedom. I hope you will make good use of it.

Do we not feel for our brethren in other nations that we have something unique to offer, that we can sympathize with them from Mosiah’s similar warning:

And behold, now I say unto you, ye cannot dethrone an iniquitous king save it be through much contention, and the shedding of much blood. (Mosiah 29:21)

Lastly, I want to tie this back into a spiritual viewpoint, to assist readers in the realization that this is not a hobby horse tangential to gospel discussion. Excerpts from the foreword to something I wrote:

I recollect a time when someone downplayed the language in one of Martin Luther’s masterful hymns, since it was a “very militaristic outlook,” as if such had no place in spiritual understanding. No fewer than sixteen hymns in the LDS hymnbook touch upon this notion of conflict, while thirteen more speak of it openly. One of them mentions the very key to victory: “So may my soul be filled with light/That I may see and win the fight.” Also, “The fight with sin is real.” One cannot easily forget Elder Neal A. Maxwell’s remonstrance, “This is a real and ongoing war—with real casualties—in which there can be neither neutrals nor pacifists.”

My belief is not just that Paul utilized such imagery to teach the gospel, but that it is one of the aptest descriptions of our mortal lives. “Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life; that he may please him who hath chosen him to be a soldier.” . . .

Scripture does not teach us that there was ideological difference, political wrangling, or friendly debate in heaven, but that there was war. . . . I am realistic enough to admit that the warfare is incessant and at times is unfortunately aided by others around us, but there should be a strong streak of optimism running throughout. If someone possessing gospel light fails to give a story a happy ending, they must have focused on the wrong character entirely.

My, how I go on. I always have a lot on my mind, I suppose. However, I’d rather be profound than prolific. Sadly, the intimation throughout history’s teachings and acceptance is that you seldom get both.

And your whole labor shall be in Zion, with all your soul, from henceforth; yea, you shall ever open your mouth in my cause, not fearing what man can do, for I am with you. Amen. (D&C 30:11)

I’ll end as I began, with words from a hymn, which President Joseph F. Smith informed President Heber J. Grant might be his favorite, if he had to choose one:

Uphold the right, tho' fierce the fight,
And pow'rful is the foe;
As freedom's friend, her cause defend,
Nor fear nor favor show.
No coward can be called a man—
No friend will friends betray;
Who would be free, alert must be;
Indifference will not pay.

Note how they toil, whose aim is spoil,
Who plundering plots devise;
Yet time will teach, that fools o'erreach
The mark, and lose the prize.
Can justice deign to wrong maintain,
Whoever wills it so?
Can honor mate with treach'rous hate?
Can figs on thistles grow?
Dare to be true, and hopeful too;
Be watchful, brave and shrewd;
Weigh every act; be wise, in fact,
To serve the general good.
Nor basely yield, nor quit the field—
Important is the fray;
Scorn to recede, there is no need
To give our rights away.

Left-handed fraud let those applaud
Who would by fraud prevail;
In freedom's name contest their claim,
Use no such word as fail;
Honor we must each sacred trust,
And rightful zeal display;
Our part fulfil, then, come what will,
High heaven will clear the way. (Emily Hill Woodmansee, “Uphold the Right,” recited in CR, Oct. 1919, 8-9)