My husband was in the Air Force for the first twelve years of our marriage. I didn’t know much about the details of his work. You may have heard me talk or write about our first assignment after marriage to South Korea. To this day, there is no peace with North Korea.  We were stationed there in the early eighties; it was a third-world country. South Korea was also under Martial Law. Mark had already been there six months when he came home to get married, a date he almost didn’t make due to the assassination of the South Korean President. There were no cell phones or computers to let me know he might not arrive.

Admitting that I was completely taken by surprise upon my arrival in Korea and while adjusting to this complicated situation is an understatement. I couldn’t have ever imagined what my new normal would entail.

Luckily, growing up in the United States, I never had to run when I heard sirens and seek shelter, as I did there. I didn’t have a go-bag packed in case I had to run for my life if war broke out. When I shopped at the grocery store, I wasn’t rationed on certain food items either. Most of the time, I had no idea what costs the military service personnel incurred to keep us safe.

If you want freedom, you need to be willing to make sacrifices.

Our next assignment brought us to Great Britain, and we were still dealing with the effects of the Cold War. While I felt relatively safe in England, my husband still pulled alert and was scrambled when threats had to be checked out. He was frequently away during military exercises, dealing with dangerous situations I would never know about.

While there, we were offered the chance to participate in a NATO orientation in West Berlin, “an island in a Sea of Red.” Being the ignorant, spoiled American that I was, I wasn’t privy to much of what was happening during this time on the world front, so I agreed to go. I did not understand, as we drew closer to the Sea of Red, that it was a reference to the Deutsche Demokratische Republik (DDR), otherwise known as East Germany. Germany was divided after WWII and had a puppet-led government controlled by the Russians. Our destination was West Berlin via a whole lot of unfriendly airspace. Before entering DDR airspace, our aircraft had to align with the air corridors established after WWII. This meant a rapid descent from a cruising altitude of 22,000 to 10,000 feet. We were immediately flanked by Russian MIG fighters upon entering their airspace. If we deviated at all, we would be shot down. Being in that plane in that situation was terrifying, and the reality of what my husband dealt with daily became apparent.

We landed at Tempelhof, Hitler’s former headquarters. West Berlin was enclosed by an imposing manmade wall. Inside the wall was like any American city. Outside the wall was enemy territory, where they fired real bullets and played for keeps.

The pilots were required to attend briefings. The wives were not, so we shopped like good little capitalists. One could not ignore the many white crosses that were prominent in the West representing those who sought freedom there and were killed trying.

One day, we took a bus to visit East Berlin. Before crossing at Checkpoint Charlie, in the American sector, we were briefed on all the don’ts: don’t walk on the sidewalk the wall is on, don’t cause any trouble, don’t stand out, and don’t stare at the guards. After being boarded by armed guards, we were cleared to proceed. Emotions were void of the usual American banter and bravado. I again wondered why I had agreed to come. The guards there weren’t putting on a show—we were the enemy, and they needed no excuse to arrest and detain insolent Americans.

The only way to describe the backdrop of East Berlin was dreary, black-and-white, oppressive, and devoid of cars or humans. It was eerie and like a horror film come to life. There were armed guards everywhere, especially near the wall, which was mined to keep people away. I wanted to leave immediately. The few people we saw at the restaurant were emotionless, like lifeless robots.

That is life with no freedom. No joy and absolutely no reason to work hard and get ahead. Each was at the government’s service.

Thirty-five years later, we visited Budapest, Hungary. We were encouraged to visit the Museum of Horrors. I don’t like horror films, assuming it had something to do with that, until we found out more. It exposed the horrors of socialism and communism as that country had experienced them behind the Iron Curtain during the Cold War. I highly recommend going if you ever go to Budapest. As we walked through the exhibits, they had black-and-white video footage playing of the locals who shared about how they were treated, kidnapped, and sometimes tortured for speaking against the tactics of the socialist government. Frequently, they mentioned how neighbors, friends, or family members would rat each other out to save their own skin.

People would “disappear in the night and never be heard from again.”

The lowest level of the building is where they tortured civilians who caused trouble. Each cell was designed to cause pain in a different way. I stood in one small cell, shoulders touching each wall and the ceiling just over my head. It was tight and cramped. The cell would be filled with cold water from the Danube River, and troublemakers would be in there for days or weeks until they complied or drowned.

Why do I share these hard stories? “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” (Santayana)

“Freedom is not free,” states Colonel Walter Hitchcock. Countless men and women gave their lives, leaving us this great country, and still do. We all have contributed to what is wrong or right with America.

Those who frequently complain, suggesting socialism and communism are better solutions, have no idea of their reality, nor have they personally experienced any of their devastating effects.

About a month ago, I spoke with one of the teens at our parish who recently became Catholic. I asked about his favorite subject in school, and he mentioned that it was history. He went on to say that his teacher, from a local high school, had recently told the class, “Communism is such a good idea, because everyone is equal.”

We had not spoken about communism; he was simply sharing something his teacher had said. I shared my stories with him so he understood from a first-hand knowledge of the topic.

The seeds of discord are planted while young, ignorant, and inexperienced in worldly affairs. They are watered and fertilized in higher education, churning out discontented graduates who are easy prey to that line of thinking. How is it that we have so many Socialist candidates from other countries who are being seriously considered and elected?

We need to wake up America and pay attention. Even this great nation can implode.

Experiencing these realities was what I needed to wake myself up. I am grateful for my freedom, unlike some people who sadly take America for granted.

One nation, under God, is the answer if we want to experience liberty and justice for all. We all have a responsibility and part to play in preserving the freedom we all enjoy.

God Bless America!