Lecture outline for campbell reece biology

Colonel James M. Gavin shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the War Department and closed his eyes tightly to block out the pressure he felt building up in his head. Opening them, he continued to read the newspaper sprawled out on his mahogany desk:
PRESIDENT LA FOLLETTE ACQUITTED IN IMPEACHMENT TRIAL
RUMORS OF SHAKE-UP WITHIN ADMINISTRATION AND MORE OPPOSITION ARRESTS ABOUND
In a rare moment of outward fury for the normally stoic soldier, Gavin crumpled the newspaper and threw it across his Pentagon staff office. He had already read the thing twice over to make sure he hadn’t missed anything the first time. To read it again would just be an exercise in making himself even more depressed. Colonel Gavin stood up and walked to the office window and looked out. Summer was rapidly dying and Fall was taking root, already some of the leaves on the trees were turning to new, vibrant colors. His office with the Strategic Plans Department was on the Eastern side of the Pentagon and offered him a view of the gently flowing Potomac River and into Washington DC itself. On clear days, such as today, he could even see the needle of the Washington Monument sticking triumphantly high into the sky. On other days the view might have filled him with pride, but today all he felt was dread. Looking over the Potomac he tried to make out where the White House would be. What was going on in there right now? Was the President and his gang of fascist jackals working out their next plan to strip away American democracy or disappear another political opponent at this very moment? Was this what he had fought for? What so many of his comrades in arms had died for?
He thought back. Gavin had always wanted to be a soldier. He was not born into some political dynasty or with a silver spoon in his mouth, no, he had to work for everything he wanted. He had been an orphan and whatever free time he had was devoted to work. Whether as a paperboy or a barbers assistant caring for the miners in his poor Pennsylvania town, he was always working. He knew he had to get out. Listening to his school teachers' lectures about the Civil War and the stories of discharged veterans from the Canadian front opened his eyes to the world outside coal mining and poverty. He knew had to be a soldier. The Americans who went off to fight in these wars were heroes to him, they did not fight for riches, they fought for what was good, decent, honorable, and righteous. Democracy. The thought was the only thing that kept him going when he had to get up before the crack of dawn, when he had to give up on making friends, and when his adoptive father forced him to drop out of school in 8th grade to work full time. He had his break when the Revolution began in 1921 and at only 15 years old he ran from home to join an anti-communist militia marching off to liberate New York City. Gavin was filled with pride as they marched off to battle and sang old marching tunes as well as praises for the newly inaugurated President Lejeune. Wearing a shabby, worn-out uniform a kind Sergeant had given to him, and using an old hunting rifle, he fought through the streets of the Big Apple alongside Patton’s regulars and the collaborationist bastard Hugh Johnson. The irony of the fact he had been fighting against Benjamin Gitlow, who now seemed to have been the last best hope of democracy in the United States, did not escape Colonel Gavin.
Federal troops enter the Bronx Soviet in May 1922. A young Gavin first saw combat here in the brutal urban warfare of the Revolution while fighting in an anti-communist militia
He had proved himself in the Revolution, enough to stay in with the Pennsylvania National Guard as a Corporal and fight the insurrectionist remnants with distinction until 1924 when one of his superior officers decided he might cut it as an officer and got him an appointment to West Point. The Academy was hard, but he was used to dealing with challenges so he was up at 4:30 every morning to try and catch up on the basic education he had been forced out of as a boy. After graduation, he got to serve on the far frontiers of American global reach where he witnessed brutality not seen since the Revolution, except this time it was not undisciplined militias or renegade Japanese collaborators, but regular United States Federal troops. Confronted by the reality of the crimes committed by a few notable Caribbean officers in the Moroland shook his faith in what he was fighting for, but still, he persisted. Those men were in the minority and their actions brought shame to the military as a whole, even as the politicians back home lauded them or helped to cover it up. It was then he first began to notice the uneasy glances shared between servicemen as they read the newspapers or talked about the events in hushed tones. At the time they were few, and no one was outspoken, but still, Gavin had noticed. When a new Pacific War broke out, all of that was forgotten as the Army of the Free marched off once more to battle. Good god, Guadalcanal had been so hot and the Japanese had been so fierce. As one of the masterminds behind the Airborne Corps, it was only right that he once more serve on the frontlines with his men and so he made every combat jump the 82nd Airborne conducted during the war. Gavin had fought in every major battle and watched as the men around him were maimed, mutilated, and murdered by a vicious enemy in a war of aggression he was beginning to lose faith in.
Theater-Ranked Brigadier General Gavin preparing to make a combat jump into Guadalcanal in late 1942 with his beloved \"All-American\" 82nd Airborne Division
He was off the coast of Iwo Jima, on board an aircraft carrier for a planning conference on the invasion of Japan, when the room suddenly turned white with the flash of the nuclear bomb. In an instant, 75,000 soldiers, sailors, marines, airmen, sons, brothers, fathers, and husbands were vaporized by the deadliest weapon known to mankind. A follow-up attack on Guam was just as bad. What had they died for? Democracy. It had to be something as just and noble as that. To spread democracy and bring peace to the Pacific. Right? The atomic bombings of Japan followed soon after.
Because of the nature of the Japanese defeat, the collapsed central government was unable to stop the raging fires, set up food distribution, or stop the roaming bandits in large swathes of the country. To counter this, an immediate American occupation was needed to restore order, end the famine, and set up a provisional government. The planning for the airborne contingent of this action, entitled Operation Eastern Wind, was left in the capable hands of theater-ranked Major General James Gavin. Eastern Wind would include massive amphibious landings across the Japanese Isles, preluded by the largest airborne drop the war had seen pinpointed outside major cities to secure vital infrastructure as the seaborne troops and equipment arrived. In a personal victory during planning, Gavin had used the loss of personnel on Iwo Jima and Guam to argue for the integration of all-black paratroop units into the rest of the Airborne Corps to bolster numbers before the big jump. Then in early September 1945, the skies over Japan were once again filled with the roaring sounds of American engines as thousands of paratroopers jumped from their transports to begin the occupation of Japan. Jumping into the icy vacuum one more time, Gavin landed on the outskirts of Tokyo and was the highest-ranking American officer in Japan for about two hours before the rest of the Army hit the beaches. As he and whatever men landed near him advanced on a railroad depot where he planned to set up his headquarters, they were horrified to find it had become an open-air hospital and mass grave for Japanese civilians caught in the Tokyo atomic bombing. The horrific stench of rotting corpses and gangrenous infected innocents permeated the air and Gavin’s first instinct was to vomit and shield his eyes. But as a soldier, and especially a soldier who was good, decent, honorable, and righteous, he instead directed the creation of an aid station along with an operational headquarters to assist the beleaguered Japanese doctors and nurses. Over the next few months in Japan, Gavin saw the extent of the destruction wrought in the name of ‘democracy’. When the final tally of over 2.5 million civilian casualties, was released he believed it. The Japanese people had suffered greatly, so he could only hope that peace would hold out when he received new orders to head the innovative Strategic Plans Department back in Washington DC at the end of 1946.
Operation Eastern Wind, directed by Theater-Ranked Major General Gavin, would see the largest airborne drop of the war as the American military began its occupation of Japan. The landings would meet no formal Japanese resistance and allowed for the quick seizure of vital infrastructure across the country. American troops encountered firsthand the effects of the nuclear attacks, the subsequent famine, wildfires, and governmental collapse.
Bumped back down to a peacetime rank, Gavin continued to climb the ladder arguing for the modernization and integration of the armed forces. He tried to readjust to peacetime service and revert to how he had served all the other presidential administrations, but something was different about La Follette. Gavin had initially viewed him positively, seeing as he had been a soldier in the Pacific before rising to the highest office, but that quickly changed with the appointment of MacArthur as Secretary of State and the dictatorial nature of the Administration in occupied Japan. As the years passed, Gavin noticed a rise in the uneasy glances he had not seen since the Moroland warcrimes had been revealed. Officers reading their newspapers would shoot a look at their comrades before receiving a knowing and acknowledging look back. Pre-briefing meetings often took an off-topic turn as someone would bring up current events and the whispers and hushed voices began. Perhaps someone would bring up the actions of the Black Shirts and reminisce about their actions during the Revolution and how the revolutionary militias and extremist fascists seemed awfully similar. Sometimes the room would go silent when an Administration appointee or outwardly supportive serviceman would walk in and the huddled soldiers would quickly and quietly disperse. Still, it was business as usual in the Pentagon and on all the bases that Gavin would visit on tours. Then the chaos of the 1948 Farmer-Labor Convention happened, followed by the streetfighting, followed by the reelection of the President, the arrests of political opponents, and the revelations preceding the impeachment attempt. Slowly but surely the number of disaffected servicemen rose with each incident and some commanders were beginning to give uncomfortable, but necessary, reminders to their men on the apolitical nature of the military and its members, even if they were beginning to lose faith in that too.
The Pentagon was abuzz with quiet discontent. Even if it was unconfirmed it was clear to most servicemen that Lindbergh and La Follette had murdered General Smedley Butler or were at the very least deeply involved in the cover-up. Once again paramilitary forces were roaming the streets of America. Once again opponents of a political philosophy were in real, mortal danger. Once again American democracy was under threat from the inside. Gavin’s generation of servicemen had marched off to war to fight for something that the La Follette administration did not care about. The current Officer Corps of the United States Military idolized Smedley Butler and John Lejeune and every affront against their names and legacies was duly, but as of yet silently, noted. The Lower Enlisted and especially Non-Commissioned Officer Corps also looked on at the proceedings with great interest as it seemed that their sacrifices in the Revolution and Pacific War were being forgotten and their authority handed over to a bunch of undisciplined and hyper-partisan Black Shirts. The uneasy glances abounded in the War Department. Outspoken fascists and La Follette supporters who seemed to have forgotten their oaths were increasingly shunned and effectively exiled by their comrades and superior officers.
James M. Gavin took a step back from the window and sneered. I cannot believe that disgrace Batista came in second he thought. Looking out at the skyline of the home of sacred American democracy, it very suddenly became very clear that the union was approaching a precipice. It was quite possible that the Administration might call upon the military to enforce its will should they take a step to alter the very fabric of the United States. If and when that time comes… what would the military’s response be? Not the reaction from the higher-ups, the ones appointed by the politicians, but the reaction from the men? The Officers and Enlisted who had watched their buddies die overseas as they fought for some vague notion of advancing the cause of freedom? The Officers and Enlisted who had set out to defend America during the Revolution? Personally, Gavin knew what he would do, and he had a general feeling about what the rest of the men of the military might do. But the revelation had forced the thought into his mind and he knew he would never be able to shake it again. He sat down at his desk once again and began to outline a list of names. Once he had finished, he looked it over again, committed it to memory, took out his lighter, and burned the paper. He would set about doing what he did best. Organizing and planning. He wasn’t sure just how paranoid the Administration was, but he would leave no paper trail, only speak to those he was absolutely sure he knew the sentiments of, and take every precaution as he made feelers. Too much was at risk. Too many had died. Too many had sacrificed. Too many who naively believed that their bloodshed would not be in vain and that their superiors in the government were also good, decent, honorable, and righteous. James M. Gavin would do whatever he could to remind Washington that there were still patriots willing to fight for a worthy cause. And if necessary, die for it. Democracy.
Washington's Last Patriot: James M. Gavin

“A challenge of Tennessee’s law dealing with the use of public school restrooms and locker rooms by transgender students remains alive after a federal judge declined to dismiss all claims against the state education department and Williamson County Schools.
“U.S. District Court Judge William Campbell denied the state’s request. . .to dismiss the child’s claim of a violation of rights under the Equal Protection Clause.
“The judge, however, granted a request to dismiss the child’s claim that her Title IX rights were violated. The ruling notes that because the federal law allows schools to maintain separate restrooms for ‘the different sexes,’ requiring the child to use the restroom based on her biological sex doesn’t violate Title IX.
“The judge also dismissed the child’s request to correct all records to reflect her female gender.”
"The case against the Tennessee Department of Education and Williamson County Schools involves a 9-year-old transgender child who was male at birth but identifies as female, according to court filings. The child uses 'she/her' pronouns and lives socially as a girl by wearing her hair long and dressing in a manner usually associated with girls."
“Campbell denied the child’s request for an injunction against the school district to stop it from enforcing the state law.
“Yet the judge opted not to dismiss the child’s claims under the Equal Protection Clause, which prohibits a state from ‘denying to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws’ and prevents government discrimination that ‘either burdens a fundamental right, targets a suspect class or intentionally treats one differently than others similarly situated without any rational basis for the difference.’”