Harold Estes addresses President Obama

Our good CAPT passes along a letter from Master Chief Boatswain Mate Harold B. Estes, written November 2009, to President Obama. The CAPT was very fortunate to have met this good man and passes on his observation that he was indeed the real deal.

The letter was verified by Snopes. The letter is mentioned on the Congress.org web site. The letter used to be on the Congress.org site at this address for his letter. I can no longer trace the link. This Urban Legends site also attributes the letter to Harold B. Estes. According to several sites researching the letter, Rick Terwilliger, publisher of Fore n' Aft Magazine, the original was dictated by Estes, signed by Estes, and mailed to the White House in November 2009.

According to several sources, Master Chief Boatswain Mate Harold B. Estes died May 17, 2011. One site shows a picture of Harold Estes, approaching 95 years. The Hawaii Reporter published an article on his passing, detailing how he was instrumental in bringing the USS Bowfin and USS Missouri (both moored a short distance from the Arizona) to Pearl Harbor. Here is a tribute to the memory of Harold Estes.

The following is the best representation that I can find of the letter. I hope that everyone will be tolerant of me if I have failed to capture it entirely; however, I think it fully conveys the full frustration that he and many others feel toward this president.


Dear President Obama

My name is Harold Estes, approaching 95 on December 13 of this year. People meeting me for the first time don't believe my age because I remain wrinkle free and pretty much mentally alert.

I enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1934 and served proudly before, during and after WW II retiring as a Master Chief Bos'n Mate. Now I live in a "rest home" located on the western end of Pearl Harbor, allowing me to keep alive the memories of 23 years of service to my country.

One of the benefits of my age, perhaps the only one, is to speak my mind, blunt and direct even to the head man.. So here goes.

I am amazed, angry and determined not to see my country die before I do, but you seem hell bent not to grant me that wish.

I can't figure out what country you are the president of. You fly around the world telling our friends & enemies despicable lies like: " We're no longer a Christian nation." "America is arrogant" (Your wife even announced to the world," America is mean- spirited. "Please tell her to try preaching that nonsense to 23 generations of our war dead buried all over the globe who died for no other reason than to free a whole lot of strangers from tyranny and hopelessness.)

I'd say shame on the both of you, but I don't think you like America, nor do I see an ounce of gratefulness in anything you do, for the obvious gifts this country has given you. To be without shame or gratefulness is a dangerous thing for a man sitting in the White House.

After 9/11 you said," America hasn't lived up to her ideals."

Which ones did you mean? Was it the notion of personal liberty that 11,000 farmers and shopkeepers died for to win independence from the British? Or maybe the ideal that no man should be a slave to another man, that 500,000 men died for in the Civil War? I hope you didn't mean the ideal 470,000 fathers, brothers, husbands, and a lot of fellas I knew personally died for in WWII, because we felt real strongly about not letting any nation push us around, because we stand for freedom.

I don't think you mean the ideal that says equality is better than discrimination. You know the one that a whole lot of white people understood when they helped to get you elected.

Take a little advice from a very old geezer, young man.

Shape up and start acting like an American. If you don't, I'll do what I can to see you get shipped out of that fancy rental on Pennsylvania Avenue. You were elected to lead not to bow, apologize and kiss the hands of murderers and corrupt leaders who still treat their people like slaves.

And just who do you think you are telling the American people not to jump to conclusions and condemn that Muslim major who killed 13 of his fellow soldiers and wounded dozens more. You mean you don't want us to do what you did when that white cop used force to subdue that black college professor in Massachusetts , who was putting up a fight? You don't mind offending the police calling them stupid but you don't want us to offend Muslim fanatics by calling them what they are, terrorists.

One more thing. I realize you never served in the military and never had to defend your country with your life, but you're the Commander- in-Chief now, son. Do your job. When your battle-hardened field General asks you for 40,000 more troops to complete the mission, give them to him. But if you're not in this fight to win, then get out. The life of one American soldier is not worth the best political strategy you're thinking of.

You could be our greatest president because you face the greatest challenge ever presented to any president. You're not going to restore American greatness by bringing back our bloated economy. That's not our greatest threat. Losing the heart and soul of who we are as Americans is our big fight now. And I sure as hell don't want to think my president is the enemy in this final battle.

Sincerely,
Harold B. Estes


Sailor's Prayer from 1943:

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
Grant no other sailor take
My shoes and socks before I wake.
Lord guard me in my slumber
And keep my hammock on its number.
May no clues nor lashings break
And let me down before I wake.
Keep me safely in thy sight
And grant no fire drill tonight.
And in the morning let me wake,
Breathing scents of sirloin steak.
God protect me in my dreams
And make this better than it seems.
Grant the time may swiftly fly
When myself shall rest on high.
In a snowy feather bed,
Where I long to rest my head,
Far away from all the scenes
And the smell of half-done beans.
Take me back into the land
Where they don't scrub down with sand,
Where no Demon Typhoon blows,
Where the women wash the clothes.
God thou knowest all my woes,
Feed me in my dying throes.
Take me back I'll promise then
Never to leave home again.