There are no ex-Marines.
My Uncle Louie, the Marine.
Eighty-three years ago, our national innocence was shattered. Some might call it inertia, given the fact that the rest of the world had been at war for years. We tried to ignore it, but when the bombs came crashing down in fiery meteors on our young men at Pearl Harbor, the hesitation was over. We were at war.
It was a day, December 7th, that marked a dividing line between the older America, and the modern country that we live in today. It might not seem as clear a demarcation as it is, and in some ways life was unchanged. But for those who ran to recruiting stations the moment they heard about the tragedy in Oahu, and for their families, and now their descendants who remember the stories as I do, it was the moment when America said: “We have this. We are doing this. We are coming, now.”
The soldiers, the sailors and the Marines, always the Marines, jumped into action. Midway, Guadalcanal, Wake Island and the Coral Sea. These were the warriors who helped save civilization, these achingly young men who had just started shaving, who went where angels fear to tread. Only they were not “fools,” they were patriots. That sentiment still exists in some of our citizens today, some who hear the call that others pretend to ignore. Those who say, “if not me, who? If not now, when?”
I see a distinct connection between Daniel Penny, the young man who is on trial for killing a deranged ex-felon who terrorized passengers in the NY subway by screaming that he didn’t care if he went back to jail, and the men of December 7th. This is what I wrote on social media:
“Today is the day that created modern America, an America that had the war brought home, to our shores. 83 years ago, soldiers and Marines jumped into action to protect the homeland. In many ways, Daniel Penny channeled that same spirit: Rush in to defend the innocent. Semper Fi.”
Sadly, there are a lot of Americans who think that Penny is a killer, and should be sentenced to jail for taking the life of the subway terrorist. I will not use the deceased’s name, because every media outlet that has covered the trial has humanized the so-called victim as a way of demonizing Penny. This young Marine, because as my uncle used to say, there are no “ex-Marines,” was not threatened. He could have taken care of himself. He could have even moved to another car.
But there were children on that subway as the mentally ill homeless person got in their faces screaming expletives. There were elderly people, and women. There were innocent people going about their daily routines, coming face to face with fury.
I have been like them, trapped underground in a subway car where sick people take advantage of the tunnels and the lack of egress, the inability to flee, and prey on you. I have been punched in the head, I have had a man expose his penis to me, I have had people shooting up drugs one seat away, I have had beggars get violent when I ignore them, and no one has come to my aid. There were no Daniel Pennys on my journeys.
For that reason alone, I consider him a hero. The idea that in a moment of crisis, when lives hang in the balance, that he should have counted the seconds on his chokehold to see if the man with the superhuman adrenaline of the drug addicted, the power of the mentally unstable, would play nice and stop being a threat, is itself a form of social justice madness.
Daniel Penny is a Marine. He was trained to do what he did, rush in and protect. Our criminal justice system has turned the lesson of December 7th upside down, making the hero warrior into the enemy.
This is not the world my Uncle Louie would recognize, and I am glad that he is not here to see it.
Christine Flowers is a columnist, immigration lawyer, disgruntled Bryn Mawr alumna, and occasional radio talk show host living in Philadelphia. Her Substack column, Christine Flowers: My Take, can be found at [email protected].