I would like to tell you a short war story that popped into my mind the first time I saw this bumper sticker. The story is about a United States Air Force Major named Tomas Madison. In 1967, Tom, as he was known by his friends, was flying combat missions against North Vietnam from Takhli Airbase in Thailand. He flew F-105s, which were commonly referred to as Thuds, supposedly because of the sound they made when hitting the ground during their frequent crashes. The United States lost more Thuds in Vietnam than any other aircraft. There was even a mountain range north of Hanoi that was called Thud ridge by air force pilots because of all the F-105s that had crashed there. Anyway, on April 19th 1967 Tom was flying a Thud over North Vietnam when he was shot down and captured. After the two or three day initial interrogation period all POWs underwent, it seemed to be the North Vietnamese practice to put all newly captured pilots and aircrew into what we called the Little Vegas section of the Hanoi Hilton, which was what we called the large prison in the middle of Hanoi. Little Vegas could only hold maybe 100 prisoners, and when it filled up, a new camp would be opened, and most of the prisoners in Little Vegas would move to the new POW camp. Apparently because of this policy and because Tom and I were shot down within a few months of each other, we both ended up, with about 70 other POWs, in a small prison 20 miles west of Hanoi near a small town called Son Tay. We moved there in mid-1968 and for the most part, lived in two man cells. We were isolated from POWs in other cells as much as the Vietnamese could make possible, and while I saw Tom occasionally through a crack in the boards covering the window of my cell, I didn’t get to talk to him until late 1970. On the night of November 21st of that year, shortly after all the prisoners at Son Tay had been moved a few miles east to yet another POW camp, United States Special Forces raided the Son Tay POW camp in an attempt to rescue us. While there were no prisoners still there to rescue, that raid turned out to be extremely beneficial to the POWs. For one thing, it was a tremendous morale boost to all POWs because it showed us that we had not been forgotten. But just as importantly, the raid scared the North Vietnamese so badly that they moved all of us who were in outlying camps, back into Hanoi and into a different section, a much larger section, of the Hanoi Hilton. They were forced to abandon their policy of keeping us isolated from each other. There simply wasn’t room. The entire population of the Son Tay POW camp was put into a single large room, and for the first time I was able to talk with Tom Madison. One thing I neglected to tell you about Tom, because it wasn’t important, except for this story. Tom was black, and everyone else in the 70 man room was white. During the process of getting acquainted with each other, one member of the room asked Tom whether he preferred to be called a Black American or an African American. Tom’s reply is one that has stayed with me ever since. He replied, "I would rather just be called an American."

Tom’s statement is one that all American’s should take to heart. While there is nothing wrong with remembering and honoring our ancestors and heritage, once we become citizens of this great nation, we should think of ourselves as Americans —not African-Americans not Latin-Americans, not Asian-Americans nor any other hyphenated American. We are just Americans, and as such Americans, to use one of my father's favorite sayings, we will sink or swim together - which brings me to my second subject.