We love our sheep, we Dogs of War.
A few weeks back I was talking with a young man who thought there was never a need to fight let alone go to war. A slightly frame with soft and fragile hands.
I quoted Orwell’s “People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.” He responded, “I sleep fine, nobody needs to do violence for me.”
I realized in that moment that it’s not my time anymore. It is his time, a time of peace and soft things that makes him unaware. The wolves had never been to this young mans door.
I remembered something that was penned by one of our long time contributors here. I asked if I could share:
The Sheepdogs
Most humans truly are like sheep
Wanting nothing more than peace to keep
To graze, grow fat and raise their young,
Sweet taste of clover on the tongue.
Their lives serene upon Life’s farm,
They sense no threat nor fear no harm.
On verdant meadows, they forage free
With naught to fear, with naught to flee.
They pay their sheepdogs little heed
For there is no threat; there is no need.
To the flock, sheepdog’s are mysteries,
Roaming watchful round the peripheries.
These fang-toothed creatures bark, they roar
With the fetid reek of the carnivore,
Too like the wolf of legends told,
To be amongst our docile fold.
Who needs sheepdogs? What good are they?
They have no use, not in this day.
Lock them away, out of our sight
We have no need of their fierce might.
But sudden in their midst a beast
Has come to kill, has come to feast
The wolves attack; they give no warning
Upon that calm September morning
They slash and kill with frenzied glee
Their passive helpless enemy
Who had no clue the wolves were there
Far roaming from their Eastern lair.
Then from the carnage, from the rout,
Comes the cry, “Turn the sheepdogs out!”
Thus is our nature but too our plight
To keep our dogs on leashes tight
And live a life of illusive bliss
Hearing not the beast, his growl, his hiss.
Until he has us by the throat,
We pay no heed; we take no note.
Not until he strikes us at our core
Will we unleash the Dogs of War
Only having felt the wolf pack’s wrath
Do we loose the sheepdogs on its path.
And the wolves will learn what we’ve shown before;
We love our sheep, we Dogs of War.
Russ Vaughn
2d Bn, 327th Parachute Infantry Regiment
101st Airborne Division
Vietnam 65-66
Category: Bloggers, Historical, Morale, Society, The Warrior Mind
“Funny how fallin’ feels like flyin’… for a little while.”
— Crazy Heart —
I also like how Kipling summed it all up.
https://www.poetry.com/poem/33632/tommy
For it’s Tommy this and Tommy that and Tommy go away,
But it’s Thank you, Mr. Atkins when the band begins to play…
But someone had to carry the White Man’s Burden for Kipling.
You bet that Tommy sees!!
Well written…not all of us of are sheep by the way…some of us civilians are more donkey than sheep…if you’ve ever wondered why sheep farmers sometimes keep donkeys instead of sheep dogs you should review the videos of donkeys in action….the first time you see a donkey with a dead coyote hanging from its mouth is a bit of a revelation…
But to the core point, there are far too many young men without calluses on their hands who have no idea how to fight.
It reminds of the saying, “You’re not peaceful if you’re not capable of great violence, you’re simply harmless”….
Those capable of violence who choose to be peaceful are the true strength of society, because those men can be unleashed to their violent character when needed, those without such a capacity will remain little more than victims throughout their lives.
A sad reflection on a soft generation of spoiled, entitled, and relatively useless little wienies.
Yes, and the discussions about Toxic Masculinity brought up other good points (not the instigators…the counter points): It is those who can keep their impulses in check that are the true paragons of masculinity and chivalry. When weak men act out because they are finally dealing with their inner emotions which they have denied for so long, instead of simply controlled they do things that they do not understand out of need to satisfy their inner desires and impulses…which is usually illegal.
I’ve seen this in reference to “toxic masculinity.”
“It’s better to be a warrior in the garden
then a gardener in the war”
All these “Boss Babes” will be running for cover the moment something goes “bump” in the night.
How many are going to be rushing to the recruiting stations/signing up for Selective Service if the shit really hits the fan? Big. Fat. Zero!!!!
When sh*t hits the fan, nobody calls a feminist or soy boy I’ve noticed.
This saying crosses my mind when tending to my flowers and veggies. The daffodils are in full bloom and looking mighty fine, I’ll have you know!
It’s been running thru my head for the last few hours, giving me a dis-ease something fierce, so i do say again:
“It’s better to be a warrior in the garden
then a gardener in the war”
Tattoo it on the foreheads of those who do not understand as a reminder of just what the pecking order be.
“It is those who can keep their impulses in check that are the true paragons of masculinity and chivalry.”
And there is always the knowledge that modern society frowns on displays of such things. But, as the saying goes, the older I get, the less life in prison is a deterrent.
We call them pussies.
The young man with soft and fragile hands (see third panel down):
That 3rd panel…
Time to chop wood and move ample dirt by hand, not only because it needs doing but for it is hard.
Shoring up the North Wall with detergent laced foo gas…in metal cans.
That is pretty good.
Interesting, Was Mr Vaughn writing this about 9/11 or something earlier? The words about a cold September morn’ and their Eastern lair seem to imply 9/11
Vaughn and ol’ Poe have been on close terms for long enough that Poe feels comfortable speaking for him. The poem was inspired by the sheepdog concept developed by the controversial author and lecturer, retired Army LTC Dave Grossman in his book “On Killing”.
Dave Grossman (author) – Wikipedia
On Killing – Wikipedia
You are correct, Ranger, on the 9/11 references. The poem was written in response to leftist/media criticism of our troops and their conduct of the mission early in the Iraq War that followed.
A minor point, should a sharp SV eye here catch it, there was never a 327th Parachute Infantry Regiment. The correct designation in WWII was the 327th Glider Infantry Regiment which was later redesignated the 327the Airborne Infantry Regiment. When Vaughn first began posting his signed works on his primary platform, American Thinker, he quickly learned that many civilians confused Airborne with Air Force so he adopted the Parachute Infantry designation as a matter of clarification. Vaughn served almost three years in the 327th both in CONUS and Vietnam.
Spot on. Sadly, many of the sheep are allowing the (s)electing of the wolves that are wearing designer suits instead of fur.
I am totally a sheep. Please mister bad guys, don’t come here to fill yourselves on my larder or, to take my jewels or my liberty!
I have not fangs, super duper promise!
ROFLOL!
I sleep like a sheep because my dog sleeps lightly by the door.
Thank you Mr. Vaughn for putting it to prose.
The first time I went to war, I had the hope my children would never have to. The second time I went, my son was there ahead if me, and I hoped my grandchildren would never have to. I realize now it was a vain and futile thought. I now just do what I can to make them ready for that day, believing the wolves will seek weaker prey.
I’m glad I belong to the generation that knows how to shoot and which bathroom to use.
“It’s not my time anymore” – true, but I still know how to bite. Come get some.
Cardio ain’t necessary if you have a greater max effective range than the target… or something.
It’s still cold outside. Winter holds on above 4k. The rains have made the ground muddy and the “old” rocks slippery with “hanging on” snow and ice.
I can hear the labor of a human walking a quarter mile away. But I trust the noses on my dogs better than my ears.
But none of that matters…looking through my scope….or something.
“A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk. Little do they know of our long labor for the safekeeping of their borders, and yet I grudge it not.”
Halbarad,
Dúnadan
Ranger of the North
Often times accused of being Irish. They sat out WWII and the few that did go fight were greeted with suspicion when they returned. They also love drink and tobacco. But really just the rural English Middle Class.
Of Southern Appalachian Scots-Irish heritage himself, ol’ Poe can see where the accusation is merited… 😜
Seriously, if you haven’t read “Born Fighting, How the Scots-Irish Shaped America” by James Webb, former SecNav and Marine officer recipient of the Navy Cross, a Silver Star, two Bronze Stars and two Purple Hearts, you should. It will make you proud of any future accusations of Hibernian heritage.
Born Fighting – Wikipedia
It’s a bit too repetitive to be a really good read but it is highly informative and inspirational nonetheless.
Thank you Dave. Just thanks Brother.
You could’ve actually quoted the “You can’t handle the truth!” rant from A Few Good Men to the kid here:
Because I like keeping The Cannoncocker from getting any work done, here’s a pic of Demi from AFGM.
Enjoy!
I’d fly right into that Danger Zone. I ain’t skeered!
Made me wish I joined the Navy.
Stop that.
You saying, I need to put those lustful thoughts on ice, man? Sorry, not sorry…I haven’t lost that lovin’ feelin’ for her. Wonder if she wants to play a little beach volley ball?
“I sleep fine, nobody needs to do violence for me.”
So I guess he won’t be calling 911 if someone attacks him?
That’s the concept of war writ small. The only difference is when the country is attacked you call the military rather than the police. Same principle though.
What he’s missing is that the entire reason he has the privilege of being able to “sleep fine” is because rough men have been, and currently are, ready to do violence on his behalf.
A sense of moral superiority born completely out of a conscious effort to be self righteous and virtue signal. Portraying a man of peace — in his weak body and mind — is enough to make all happy endings a reality, which in the end makes him feel strong and noble.
Too bad it’s really cowardice.
“Gelded” versus “peaceful”
Pacifism is a shifty doctrine under which a man accepts the benefits of the social group without being willing to pay–and claims a halo for his dishonesty. Robert Heinlein
” ready to do violence on his behalf.”
No, no, no.
That’s way too butch. Violence is out, “kinetic” is in. Please rephrase to something like
“prepared to go kinetic on his behalf”.
Violence is so, so,….intolerant and non-inclusive.
Kinetic is out, too; just means “moving” when foreigners look it up.
That boy has “victim” writ large on his forehead.
Toss him into the bad part of town, and he will learn or die.
Until we experience the hard realities of life and of the evil that inhabits this world, we cannot conceive of the need for violence.
A liberal is a conservative who hasn’t been mugged yet.
Not always. Some of them are so dedicated to that nonsense that they will hold on to the delusions of their liberal ways no matter what happens to them. To do otherwise would be to admit that they are screwed up and that they were wrong. That will not happen. Self delusion is a terrible thing.
I have a few far-left leaning…associates who have been victimized by the poor, oppressed, downtrodden of society. They cry about what happened, then blame “society” for the actions of the perpetrators. “They didn’t know I’m on their side, because I look like all those who have systematically oppressed them for so long”.
A few times I’ve expressed, to their ears, commiseration with, “well, that’s the risk you take going into their neighborhood, not locking your car door while driving in the city, wearing your jewelry/expensive purse/kicks/jacket, flaunting your wealth and privilege.”
The really dumb ones respond with denials of wealth or ostentation, or really amusingly, recitation of how they acknowledge and work to minimize their privilege.
With the only moderately stupid, you can see the OS trying to reload while failing to insert this data into their “don’t victim shame” programming. The inevitable crash is always followed by walking away from me.
Mission accomplished.
Russ who?
😉 …
We are nearly at that point…
…and it becomes time to…
Uh-oh.
I’ll bet you are now on somebody’s list.
Some dogs REEEEELY love their sheep…
Not sure if intended but there’s offense taken here, bud.
None intended, just trying to lighten the mood, -Dog. And to kinda point out that some that are thought to be sheepdogs and protectors are really not. Poor taste? Yeah probably. Lets see what my Guardian Angel has to say…
Got your drift from the jump. I shoulda sarc tagged that.
Oops.
Maybe the longer you delay the Reading of the Charges up there the better? I suggest we all listen to Mister R:
My Main Man! Not to worry, I’ll be under the wire and resting ‘neath the Shade of The Tree at least 30 minutes ‘fore Lucifer even knows I’m daid. That Carpenter Dude done built me a Stairway.
Maybe so, but you’re gonna look like Joe Biden gettin’ up it… 😜
Naw, ol’ poe. He done stashed me a spare pair of His Wings underneath that FIRST step. Maximum elevation, charge 7. 👋
That ewe seems perfectly willing.
Her story might change, should her ram find out.
Welp, we now know where black sheep come from so there is that.
What’s the problem? He’s doing a fucking job, isn’t he?
The wolf-sheep-sheepdog analogy has always felt incomplete, to me.
Sheepdog fits for LEO/fire etc… but posse comitatus keeps those of us on the “travel team” from actively protecting the herd. Instead we’re wolves hunting other wolves. At best, lions killing hyenas.
What a load of crap. Grow up, you’re sheep alright, but the sheepdogs work for the wolves, they feed you one by one into their masters’ open maw, that’s their actual job. If the sheep don’t want to go on being continually sheared and eventually skinned they’d better come up with an anti-sheepdog plan. Soon.