To the Editor, I was a small child when America went through WWII. Today, I’m almost 82 and hearing news about the war we are facing now. TV has replaced radio, with Walter Winchell and Walter Cronkite. Where, once we listened, we now watch. We watch people we know, and those we don’t, dying before our eyes and hearts. Today the Corona virus is at war with the whole world...
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To the Editor,
I was a small child when America went through WWII. Today, I’m almost 82 and hearing news about the war we are facing now. TV has replaced radio, with Walter Winchell and Walter Cronkite. Where, once we listened, we now watch. We watch people we know, and those we don’t, dying before our eyes and hearts. Today the Corona virus is at war with the whole world.
The medical profession is on the front lines. There are no furloughs. They are in the trenches with limited ammunition. Shots are not from guns, but syringes trying to save peoples’ lives. The draft is not on paper, but people gasping for breath. Gas masks have been replaced by cloth. There are no stretchers, just time stretching to save us. Tanks now carry tubes. Mess halls house wounded. Tents now hold sick. USOs are now ICUs. There is no George M. Cohan or Bob Hope. But there is hope that we will defeat this enemy.
Afterwards, there won’t be parades with generals waving. All the medals should go to those on the front lines who rush to save lives. God bless them. And God bless Old Glory too.
Margaret Britton Vaughn
Bell Buckle
Poet Laureate of Tennessee
