John Bell Hood

Recent events at Fort Hood, in Texas, where a Muslim officer shouting Allahu Akbar! (God is great) shot and killed 12 unarmed soldiers and wounded some 38 more, as he was directed to do by his holy book, the Koran, where it is stated that all non-muslims must be killed. Upon being told, the President of the United States, who immediately jumped to the conclusion that a white police officer was wrong in a confrontation with a black man, immediately warned us not to jump to any conclusions about the shooter being Muslim. Political correctness is killing us. No matter how many Muslims kill how many Americans, we are constantly told that Islam is a religion of peace, when the evidence of our eyes is that it is not a religion of peace, but a religion of murder. Islam is again on the march, as it was at Lepanto, Poitiers, the gates of Vienna, and elsewhere until submerged by a Christian Europe. The problem is, there is no more Christian Europe, or a Christian United States. The only region of the Western world where religion is still a unifying force is the United States South, and if the United States is to be saved, it is the South that will save it. People in other parts of the country will defend the country, but they will not defend Christianity against Islam, believing, as they do, that one religion is as good as, or as bad as, another. Perhaps Fort Hood, named after Civil War Confederate general John Bell Hood, is premonitional. When the fight for the survival of Christianity comes, maybe it will be John Bell Hood and his Texans who will deliver us.   



John Bell Hood, strapped to his horse

His wooden leg askew

Atop a hill, in front of course

Surveyed the line of blue

The heat haze shimmered on the land

The blue line turned to ghosts

And in its place now close at hand

Came screaming Muslim hosts

Their green flags snapping in the breeze

Arms glinting in the sun

Bell’s Texans gave a gentle squeeze

On triggers, one by one

The Muslims staggered then they fell

Bell cried the colors front

And with a roar the rebel yell

Sent every Texas grunt

To racing down the scrub laced hill

Flags snapping in the wind

Determined not to stop until

The Muslim host was pinned

Upon their shining bayonets

And driven from the field

Back to their sand and minarets

Or death if they’d not yield

The shimmered air turned hot and dry

Bell sheathed his bloody sword

A good day’s work he heard men cry

Bell quietly said For’ard

His men slung arms and formed in ranks

Their duty rightly done

They marched all day with nation’s thanks

Into the setting sun