U.S. Marines in Hue City, February 1968 (Department of Defense / National Archives)

I have an Impromptus for you today, beginning with a story about Vladimir Horowitz, told by Bill Buckley. That’s a remarkable combination — Horowitz and Buckley. (They knew each other.)

I also have items on working from home; journalists here and abroad; the occasionally Kafkaesque nature of collegiate life; worthwhile Canadian initiatives; the longevity of LeBron James; classic beer commercials; and more.

A while back, I had an item on boys and girls, and the blurring of that distinction — the erasure of it, in some cases. (For the Impromptus in question, go here.)

I would like to share a letter from a reader, who writes,

1. I’m amazed that “boys and girls” lasted as long as it did. 2. Even sadder has been the death of “parents,” which I saw during my career as a schoolteacher. At first, I thought this was political correctness, but I learned through experience that most kids did not live with two parents, and that the subject of parents brought up painful associations for many. From 1994 to 2017 I never had a homeroom where the majority of the kids lived with their biological parents. 3. I never had a group of boys in school that I could not control simply by growling, “Listen, men . . .” 4. In my younger and more vulnerable years, I often addressed formations of infantrymen with “Quit your griping, ladies” (or “girls”). That would no doubt be a court-martial offense today.

On Wednesday, I published a letter from a member of our Armed Forces, who has long served in faraway and dangerous places. It was a kind of cri de cœur, expressing, among other things, great skepticism about the attitudes of Americans today.

The letter touched a nerve in many, and I’d like to publish a couple of responses, beginning with . . .

I spent a bunch of time in the Middle East. My son, who was conceived after I got back, is there now. That in itself tells us something. My prayer for him when he left was not that he return home safely, although I clearly want that, but rather that he not lose his humanity or become as cynical as I had. When he called the other day, he was almost in tears, and we don’t cry in my family. He has worked with various Iraqi groups and he keeps saying how, as individuals, they just want what we want. They want to take care of their children and they want them to have a better future. It’s the leadership that’s all effed up. He was one of those pulled off the Syrian border, and his Iraqi counterpart helped him pack, gave him tea and a meal that probably cost this man his family’s dinner, and kissed him on both cheeks, thanking him for trying to help his people. They love Americans and the idea that is America more than most of our citizens do because they know what it means in a very personal way. I don’t have any answers or even any reasonable comments, except that I hope my grandchildren don’t lose their humanity or become as cynical as I and my son have become.

One more, which will not be to everyone’s liking — far from it — but which has cri de cœur elements itself:

I’m a Vietnam veteran who served in the active Army and Army Reserve between 1966 and 1995 and I saw great changes take place in our military, but little change in the civilian population. Because of that, I understand how your anonymous soldier feels, as would my Vietnam brothers and sisters. General Mattis said, in so many words, “Forgive your civilian countrymen, who have no idea what you’ve done or what the stakes are.” Frankly, why would everyday Americans understand when officials in our own government do not? . . . I served in Vietnam in 1968 and 1969, and when I returned, I was treated as a pariah by many fellow Americans, even people with whom I had gone to high school and college. I was an outcast because the war was unpopular, because the media had painted the conflict and those fighting it as unjust and bad, and because our government did not stand up for the military and did not even have an end-game exit strategy. Sound similar to today? What is our end game in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria? How do we know when, or if, we’ve won? How will we leave the civilian population when we pull out — better or worse than when we arrived? Did all the sacrifices made by our troops and their families count for anything, or even make a difference to average Americans? The anonymous soldier said, “So few Americans have any idea what real political problems look like — what it looks like when national politics actually affects one’s day-to-day life. So few consider America an idea worth fighting for.” That is as true a statement as can be said, and the saddest part of it is that it flows all the way uphill to the president of the United States. . . . In Vietnam, we did not fight for God, the flag, and democracy. We fought for each other’s survival on a day-to-day basis. We fought to ensure that we all came home. All did in the end, but many came home covered in the flag of our country. So many families have sacrificed so much for so little. And so little has changed since my initial engagement outside Hue, Vietnam, in March 1968. The weapons have changed, the tactics have changed, even the uniforms have changed, but the most important things have not changed. Our government still doesn’t plan or execute policy well, we don’t prioritize our military goals because we very seldom have real goals, and we have not learned from the mistakes made since the end of the Korean War. Until we do, what your anonymous soldier and this old soldier know and feel about our country and our countrymen will not change either.

To be continued . . .