depotoo
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- Sep 9, 2012
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Funston knew that this was his last chance. He had attracted far too much attention; his colorful comments had played into the hands of critics of the war, and his headline-grabbing exploits had irritated the regular officers. Time and again he had been told to keep his mouth shut, but every corpuscle in his blood impelled him to the heart of the action and then obliged him to talk about what he had done or seen. The truth of the matter was that Funston had always wanted to be a hero, someone whose martial prowess and courage could determine the outcome of a war: David bringing down Goliath and routing the Philistines; Achilles wading into the Trojans and breaking the siege; Napoleon working his will upon all Europe. His was the dream of boys who play soldier: charging ahead of the others in the teeth of enemy fire; seizing the ramparts and dispatching the enemy; sustaining dreadful (but not disfiguring) wounds; being publicly feted by a grateful nation; and receiving, in private, the adoring ministrations of a beautiful girl. Most men, on easing into manhood, redefine heroism in more prosaic terms: providing for a family despite being laid off; preserving scruples or friendships when to do so is unpopular; walking calmly, at the close of life, toward the abyss. Funston wanted none of this. He craved pristine glory of the classical kind, a glory that the industrial world had nearly blasted into oblivion. He wanted not just to win battles but to reclaim a type of heroism that had already become old-fashioned.
Funston had undertaken such a quest out of fear that he did not measure up. Partly this was because his father had set so daunting a standard. Edward (“Foghorn”) Funston stood six feet two, weighed two hundred pounds, and had a deep, bellowing voice and sharp, scathing tongue. During the Civil War he worked his way through the ranks to become an artillery officer. Afterward he set up a homestead in Kansas, became prominent in Republican circles, and was repeatedly elected to Congress. Nearly always he plunged into whatever fray he could find. At sixty-nine he gave a fiery speech on a street corner and nearly came to blows with a law officer who tried to arrest him for disturbing the peace. Foghorn Funston was an exemplar of late-nineteenth-century manhood.
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this is an example of one of the author's writings regarding a Colonel in the Phillipine-US war of 1899.
Funston had undertaken such a quest out of fear that he did not measure up. Partly this was because his father had set so daunting a standard. Edward (“Foghorn”) Funston stood six feet two, weighed two hundred pounds, and had a deep, bellowing voice and sharp, scathing tongue. During the Civil War he worked his way through the ranks to become an artillery officer. Afterward he set up a homestead in Kansas, became prominent in Republican circles, and was repeatedly elected to Congress. Nearly always he plunged into whatever fray he could find. At sixty-nine he gave a fiery speech on a street corner and nearly came to blows with a law officer who tried to arrest him for disturbing the peace. Foghorn Funston was an exemplar of late-nineteenth-century manhood.
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this is an example of one of the author's writings regarding a Colonel in the Phillipine-US war of 1899.
Simple reporting of recorded history is one thing. To add embellishments, and a socialist point of view is another.
There is no sense in leaving ANYTHING out of the teaching of history. History is merely a record of things that happened.
Exactly what do you mean by a "socialist point of view? "Embellishments"?