After expressing my respect, appreciation and sympathy last week for the millions upon millions of people who sacrificed, suffered and died during World War II, it occurred to me that very few who surround me on a daily basis today have any knowledge, sympathy or appreciation for those I wrote about.

The memories of the horrors of WWII which took place during my teenage years are still very much alive within me. I was 12 1/2 years old when Pearl Harbor was attacked. My first cousin, Frances Short, who was married to a young naval Lieutenant named Peter Clapp, was there. My good friend, Roy Morgan of Crane, Tx., who I met later was there as was my good golfing friend, Billy Fomby of Odessa, Tx. So I know it was real and I know it was horrible.

I along with every other 12-17 year old red blooded American boy yearned to get into the fight. Being too young, we could only join the rest of America and sit with downcast heads. Over a period of 4 1/2 - 5 years running there was little laughter and many tears as mothers and dads, wives and children, brothers and sisters nervously waited to hear which family in the neighborhood would be next to receive that dreaded message from the War Department that their loved one had been killed in action in Europe, like my good friend and cousin, John Lew "Buster" Gallion, Early Tucker Jr., Charles Sheffield, Sterling Sadler, Edwin Jennings, Walter Williams, Reginald Dunnavant, O.T. Oates, Ben Whatley, Billy Smithson; or was missing in action in the Pacific or was a prisoner of war like my friend, Howard Vaughn; or had been severely wounded in action, perhaps never to walk again, like my friend, Capt. Willard "Flatnose" Jeter who was a tobacco farmer and who rode his wheelchair onto a mule drawn tobacco slide, chained it down and continued to farm and raise tobacco until his death a few years ago.

This week I want to express my displeasure and disrespect for all you 50 year and younger captains of industry and government and civilian things who were born after WWII concluded. I'm writing to you school teachers, social engineers, bankers, congressmen and senators out there who think you know everything about everything and that no one over 50 years old knows anything about anything. I'm writing to all you arrogant pip-squeaks who hold your head up high and boast of your accomplishments and wealth without any knowledge, regard or appreciation of the sacrifices that have been made on your behalf. I'm writing to you lawyers, who sacrificed and suffered four years of horrors in law school on a voluntary basis where you learned to sue your hairdresser for $80,000,000 because he used the wrong tint on your hair. I'm writing to you doctors who sacrificed and suffered the agonies of eight years of voluntary preparation to be able to charge a working man a month's salary to say "good morning" and give him a wrong diagnosis. I'm writing to you preachers who merchandise the gospel and steal churches from the congregations which hired and supported you and call it God's will. I'm writing to you punks out there who go through one traumatic crisis after another because a snail darter is threatened, a seagull is a victim of an oil spill, a tree is damaged by a rock, a wet land is violated or a Marlboro cigarette billboard appears.

You all make me want to regurgitate with your imagined, self-inflicted problems.

Have a good month! I'm off to Jamestown, Williamsburg, Philadelphia, Yorktown, Richmond and Appomattox to see if I can find where things went wrong.