It has been 25 years since Korean Airlines Flight 007, carrying 269 passengers and crew, including Congressman Larry McDonald of Georgia, was fired on by a Soviet fighter jet off the coast of Siberia. At the time, McDonald was chairman of the John Birch Society (a subsidiary of which publishes THE NEW AMERICAN).
Imagine a situation in which billions of expertly counterfeited dollars have suddenly flooded our streets and rooftops — literally dropped from airplanes. Some of the counterfeit bills would be turned in, but others would be used and likely not detected. Consumers and producers, unsure of which notes were real, would lose all confidence in the currency. An economic crash would likely follow.
We are the land of the free for one reason and one reason only — because we are the home of the brave.
— Peter Collier author, Medal of Honor
Bravery. Courage. Gallantry. Intrepidity. Valor. These words have a shared meaning, and they point to the highest aspect of the warrior spirit: heroism.
But what is heroism? In an age when pop culture worships rock stars, athletes, politicians, and entertainment celebrities as heroes, the word is often misunderstood and devalued.
You might think that defying a powerful government, convening an illegal Congress, and signing one of liberty’s most lyrical documents would be exciting enough for anyone. But no. Over the decades, folks have embellished the history of the Declaration of Independence and its signers. They’ve neatened the chronology: Congress approved and signed the text on the Fourth of July, then read it publicly that evening while gentlemen removed their tricorns, ladies wept, and fireworks lit the skies. They’ve written quips for the ever-witty Ben Franklin, who certainly needed no help in that department. And they’ve invented heartbreaking fates for the signers at the hands of the vengeful British.