The old world has many sons. Sons of blossoming beauty, sons of the distant lands… sons of smoky wars and sons of the international trade of tobacco, vanilla and bourbon. Some of these are content to be wistful of bygone days, some take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them. And some are squelched as their stars begin to rise, and usher in a new era of modern man… he that embraces complacency for a semblance of peace. We are no such men.
We salute those past warriors who, with heads held high and resolute as hickory, fought for their own liberty despite the cost. And though the battles have many been lost, the war will yet be won.