
In 1971, I was a young Army lieutenant attached to a nuclear missile battalion serving my country in West Germany. Europe was, and is, an opportunity to learn more about oneself and about how others in the world live their lives. So, a fellow officer friend and I decided to take leaves and drive to Spain, a nation neither one of us had ever visited. One incident, in particular, left a lasting impression on me.
In Madrid, the Plaza Mayor in the center of the city displays a statue of King Philip III wearing armor and holding a sword atop a horse. As I positioned my camera to take a photograph of the statue, I felt a hand on my shoulder. A soldier carrying an automatic weapon stopped me and, in broken English, told me I was not permitted to take the picture.
When I asked why, he told me that a group of Spanish soldiers who were near the statue would be in the photo, and it was considered a security breach for me to document their presence. If I persisted, he said, my camera would be confiscated, and I would be detained. I complied, and instead, purchased a postcard at a nearby gift shop.
A brief history lesson – in 1971, Generalissimo Francisco Franco ruled Spain with an iron fist. During the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s, Franco had allied himself with Adolf Hitler to ensure that the Franco-led Nationalist forces would crush the opposition. Hitler never invaded Spain because Franco was a friend, a comrade who would learn from Hitler the tenets of being a dictator.
When I asked a nearby merchant why the soldiers were there, he said “to protect the city from crime and to maintain order.” Madrid was, he pointed out, the capital and Franco’s residence – a fact that was readily apparent. A formal picture of Franco was displayed in, what seemed like, every shop, along with postcards and memorabilia picturing the Generalissimo. Even the museums had Franco’s stamp of approval. In addition to the large photos of him near the entrances, the history exhibits extolled the Nationalist movement and the contributions it had made to Spain.
Franco had also hollowed out a nearby mountain to create the Valle de Los Caidos (The Valley of the Fallen), a church and burial ground for himself and the men who’d fought with him – a lasting tribute that he’d felt would immortalize him.
My reaction - I was confident that what I’d experienced would never happen in the United States. Armed soldiers in the streets of the capital; public museums that altered facts to present only the “accepted” version of history; copious amount of merchandise with the nation’s leader featured everywhere; people being harassed for simply being who they are, and for doing what normal people do; detaining those who would not agree with the nation’s leader. Not in my country – not in the United States of America.
It has been said that “Those who ignore the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them.” Franco died in 1975, and Spain has since thrown off his legacy. It wasn’t until 2019 that his coffin was removed from his private burial shrine in the mountain.
But of course, an egomaniacal narcissist like Franco would never be accepted here. Americans are just too smart for that. Aren’t we?

Something almost unimaginable has occurred: the president of the United States openly threatened six lawmakers and public officials with death—for the “crime” of telling our military to follow the law. Yes, to follow the law. It is an act so outrageous, so corrosive to democratic norms, that it should chill every American who understands what keeps this nation free.
Each of the six individuals targeted by the president served this country honorably—whether in uniform, in intelligence posts, or in public office. They are people who stepped forward when duty called. And now they are being vilified simply for upholding the Constitution.
As a former Army officer, I swore an oath that binds me to this day: “I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” The president is not mentioned in that oath—nor should he be. Our allegiance is to the Constitution, not to any one person and certainly not to any leader who demands personal loyalty at the expense of the rule of law. That oath does not expire. Like the six patriots now under threat, I have kept my word.
One of the first principles drilled into every officer is that we must neither give nor obey unlawful orders. This is not optional; it is codified clearly in Article 90 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Disobeying an unlawful order is not insubordination—it is a legal and moral obligation, central to preventing the abuse of power.
Contrast that sacred duty with the disgraceful pardons granted to individuals who desecrated our Capitol, assaulted the officers sworn to protect it, and used the American flag as a weapon against their fellow citizens. We know which side history will judge. And we know which side all Americans must choose if we wish to preserve what generations have defended with sweat, persistence, and blood.
I stand firmly with the six patriots who have refused to bow to intimidation. Their courage strengthens our democracy. Their resolve honors the oath we once took—and still believe in and uphold.

The recent killing of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis didn’t just make the news for me - it felt personal, because it was personal. I receive my medical care through the Veterans Administration, and over the years I’ve come to know the people who choose to work there.
When I ask them why they stay, the answer is never complicated or rehearsed. It’s always the same: “I love vets.” They pass up higher-paying jobs and easier paths because service, to them, still means something. That kind of patriotism doesn’t come with a slogan or a rally, or a flag pin in a lapel - it shows up quietly, shift after shift, day after day.
So when I watched the video of Alex—an ICU nurse from the VA—being gunned down, something inside me broke. He was legally carrying a pistol. He wasn’t brandishing it. He wasn’t threatening anyone. He was doing what decent people do without thinking twice: trying to help a woman who had been pepper-sprayed.
Compassion, in that moment, was treated as a provocation. After an ICE agent removed the weapon from his pocket, Alex was shot ten times in the back. Yes, ten times. Then, before the facts were even gathered, before the truth had a chance to breathe, the Trump administration branded him a “domestic terrorist.” A lie layered neatly atop a killing.
We have all seen another video of Alex—standing calmly, leading a memorial service for a veteran who had died in his VA hospital. It is solemn. It is respectful. It is unmistakably American. That is who he was. Yet his life, like the values we claim to cherish, has attempted to be rewritten by an administration led by a president who openly referred to those who served as “losers and suckers.”
What appalls me almost as much as the killing itself is the cowardice that has followed. Republican lawmakers who shrug and call this “collateral damage” in a fabricated war on immigrants should be ashamed. These are not abstract losses. These are human beings erased for no reason.
In barely a year, the United States has lost prestige, credibility, and moral standing in the world. We are no longer the leader of the free world, nor a nation others look to with hope. Silence in moments like this is not neutrality—it is complicity. Speaking out is what Americans do when our values and institutions are under assault. It is not radical. It is not partisan. It is our sacred duty if America is to once again claim we are a model of liberty and democracy.