About 14 months after American troops invaded the island of Grenada in the Caribbean to overthrow a Cuban-sponsored, Marxist coup, I was boots-on-the-ground walking about St. George's (the capital).  The Grenadians had just run their first free elections since the American invasion had toppled the communists from power and the communist candidates (the NJM -- New Jewel Movement) had lost in a landslide.  You could still see some of the pre-election grafitti scrawled on the walls around St. George's.

 

It was a Sunday and most all the shops were closed.  My companion and I were talking and about to cross the street when a petite young Grenadian woman approached us and asked if we were Americans.  I said, "Yes, we are."

 

What followed was a very dramatic description of what life had been like under Hudson Austin's NJM communist thugs after he and his followers murdered the prime minister, Maurice Bishop and six other members of his cabinet, 25 October 1983.

 

The young lady said she was overjoyed that Americans had come to liberate her island from these monsters.  She had many personal friends that had "disappeared" during the night at the hands of NJM death squads -- none of her friends were ever seen again.  Everyone was afraid.  Everyone lived in terror of being reported for "anti-revolutionary" statements to the NJM thugs who ran things.  She lived in mortal terror that one night there would be a knock on the door and that she would be among the "disappeared." 

 

That small experience was an eye-opener in many ways for my companion who'd bought part of the anti-American Bravo Sierra of the NY Times and other mainstream U.S. media.

 

Later, on the ship, I was talking to the helmsman who was steering us to an adjacent island (this was a Windjammer Cruise).  He let me drive for a bit and I managed to steer a fairly straight line -- I mentioned to him that it was different steering to a magnetic compass bearing than a gyrocompass -- and he laughed.  He then took over steering when a husband and wife, obviously from the Northeast U.S., came back to where we were.  They decided to show off their ignorance by getting one of the locals to confirm what a bunch of bastards the Americans were by throwing the communists out of Grenada.

 

I wasn't about to let these two morons put my buddy on the spot like this, so I piped up. 

 

"You want to know if America was right in invading Grenada and throwing the communists out?  You're damned right we were." 

 

"Do you remember that nice, new international airport that we landed at?  You know, the one with the 15,000 foot runway?  Well, you don't need that long a runway for civilian airliners.  However, you do need them for military maritime strike and recon aircraft like Soviet Tu-95 Bear bombers." 

 

"You put those Tu-95's on this island and the Russians or Cubans can now control all the shipping traffic that comes in or goes out of the Caribbean, the U.S. Gulf Coast, and the Atlantic Coast as far as the North Carolina-Virginia border." 

 

"Civilian airports don't have armament and refuelling revetments for strike aircraft like our new "civilian" international airport has.  "Civilian" airports don't have anti-aircraft gun positions sited on the high ground around the airport either." 

 

"I know you never saw these things because you aren't trained to see them or know about them. I am.  I can tell you that America is damned lucky that we did what we did before Hudson Austin's communists could turn this place into another Cuba.  The people of Grenada are damned happy that the Americans came and threw the communists out.  Why aren't you proud that Americans have liberated a country from communist oppression?"

 

Mr. and Mrs. Northeastern Liberal Idiots didn't have a lot to say and mumbled something about "it wasn't right" and left.  My helmsman didn't say anything, but he had a toothy grin that extended from ear to ear.  That said it all for me.