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I read with passing interest The death of the Field Marshal’s son-- Manfred Rommel-- Gone at 84. His father—The Field Marshal, Had been given a choice: Commit suicide or Face a rigged trial Charged with conspiring to **** ****** If he chose the trial, they said, They could not promise That his family would be SAFE. The father, Der Feldmarschall, Bit into a cyanide pill And died quickly. It was Oct. 14, 1944. Thanks to the sacrifice, Manfred got to grow up to be A three-term mayor of Stuttgart, Where Daimler-Benz makes cars. Manfred Rommel: A postwar liberal Deutschland voice, Supporting immigrants and Jews. At 84, Deader than A dreadnaught. Makes you wonder? A fate worst--wurst-- Something worse than Death? Really the moment of truth For any honorable man, Self-defined by nature, Molded by nurture. Family: The fountain & source The tribe you belong to. Family: everything you are When you get right down to Where one’s loyalties Supposedly lie. Of course, you opt for suicide. Wouldn’t anyone? We are born into a net. We must bravely defend the network. Facing insurmountable odds, Our duty is to hold on Without hope, without rescue, Like that Roman centurion Whose bones, Later excavated at that front door in Pompeii, Steadfast & true, That Roman soldier-- Vesuvius exploding, A hard rain falling down upon him-- Died at his post because They forgot to relieve him. That is duty. That is greatness. That is thoroughbred pedigree. An honorable end: The one thing that Cannot be taken from a man. Unless, of course, The times they are Orwellian, And once again, This time with feeling: *“Do it to Julia. Do it to Julia!”*
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
“Spengler’s Decline of the West”
I read with passing interest The death of the Field Marshal’s son-- Manfred Rommel-- Gone at 84. His father—The Field Marshal, Had been given a choice: Commit suicide or Face a rigged trial Charged with conspiring to **** ****** If he chose the trial, they said, They could not promise That his family would be SAFE. The father, Der Feldmarschall, Bit into a cyanide pill And died quickly. It was Oct. 14, 1944. Thanks to the sacrifice, Manfred got to grow up to be A three-term mayor of Stuttgart, Where Daimler-Benz makes cars. Manfred Rommel: A postwar liberal Deutschland voice, Supporting immigrants and Jews. At 84, Deader than A dreadnaught. Makes you wonder? A fate worst--wurst-- Something worse than Death? Really the moment of truth For any honorable man, Self-defined by nature, Molded by nurture. Family: The fountain & source The tribe you belong to. Family: everything you are When you get right down to Where one’s loyalties Supposedly lie. Of course, you opt for suicide. Wouldn’t anyone? We are born into a net. We must bravely defend the network. Facing insurmountable odds, Our duty is to hold on Without hope, without rescue, Like that Roman centurion Whose bones, Later excavated at that front door in Pompeii, Steadfast & true, That Roman soldier-- Vesuvius exploding, A hard rain falling down upon him-- Died at his post because They forgot to relieve him. That is duty. That is greatness. That is thoroughbred pedigree. An honorable end: The one thing that Cannot be taken from a man. Unless, of course, The times they are Orwellian, And once again, This time with feeling: *“Do it to Julia. Do it to Julia!”*
giuseppi-martino-buonaiuto
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giuseppi-martino-buonaiuto
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
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