We are Americans. This is our country. He who would take it from us, by force or by stealth, is our enemy. And it is our purpose -- nay, it is our duty to our children and to their children and to our yet unborn posterity -- it is our duty to use all feasible means to destroy him.
A dream is by definition a series of sensations that occur in the brain when both our senses of perception and our powers of will and reason are in abeyance, so that we have no control over that flux of sensations. But it is, of course, a well-known phenomenon that when we dream that we are dreaming, the dream ends and we awaken. Then the conscious mind takes over and we are again responsible for our thoughts, and must face a day in which we must be responsible for our actions, which, by their wisdom or folly, may determine the rest of our lives. Our dreams may give expression, pleasant or painful, to our subconscious desires or fears. But in our waking hours we must, if we are rational, make our decisions on the basis of the most objective and cold-blooded estimates that we can make: estimates of the forces and tendencies in the world about us; estimates of the realities with which we must deal; remembering always that nothing is likely to happen just because we think it's good, or unlikely to happen just because we think it's evil.
If ever we have had need to appraise carefully and rationally our position and prospects, the time is now. In the outer quadrangle of Brasenose at Oxford, if I remember correctly, there is in the middle of the green sward a solitary sundial, whose bronze plate bears the chilling inscription, It is later than you think. I assure you, my fellow Americans, that it is now later -- much later -- than you think. It is possible, of course, that it may now be too late and that, as a veteran observer and distinguished friend of mine recently assured me, our cause is now as hopeless as was that of the South after the fall of Richmond and near the tragic conclusion of the second war for independence which was fought on our soil. I honestly believe, however, we still have some chance of survival. If I did not believe that, I certainly would not be speaking to you today or asking you to consider with me the odds against us.
I may be wrong. I have no powers of divination, nor of prophecy. And I certainly do not know the secret plans of our enemies, or even the inner structure of their organization. I can only guess the probable extent of their power and the probable efficacy of their strategy by extrapolation from what they have thus far accomplished. I can only give you my best estimate, made after long and anxious consideration; but I do not pose as an expert in these matters, and since I have promised to be candid, I will tell you candidly that my estimates in the past proved to be overly optimistic.
When I left the mephitic atmosphere of Washington late in 1945, I had no great misgivings about the future of our nation. On the basis of the best estimates that I could then make, I was confident that our future was assured by a popular reaction which I deemed inevitable within the next five years. I felt certain that the secrets of Washington would quickly become known and that our nation would be swept with moral indignation and revulsion when Americans saw exposed to the light of day even a small part of the foul record of the diseased creature that had squatted in the White House for so many years, surrounded by his appalling gang of degenerates, traitors, and alien subversives.
I knew that the secret of Pearl Harbor would be quickly disclosed, and that Americans would soon know how the Japanese had been maneuvered and tricked into destroying our fleet and killing so many of our men. I was sure that the public would soon learn of the old conspiracy between Roosevelt and Churchill (who was at that time a private citizen in what was still Great Britain), and also of Roosevelt's persistent efforts from 1936 to 1939 to get started in Europe the insanely fratricidal war that devastated that continent, that destroyed so much of what is the most precious and irreplaceable treasure of any race -- the genetic heritage of its best men -- and that inflicted on our own country a great squandering of life and wealth in a war that was deliberately conducted to assure the defeat of the United States and Great Britain no less than that of France and Germany. I was sure that we would quickly, once peace had come, see that we had fought for the sole purpose of imposing the beasts of Bolshevism on a devastated land. I was sure that we would quickly see the nature of the great treason trap called the United Nations. I thought that decent men's stomachs would turn when they learned of the officially admitted strategy of the British government which, in deliberate violation of all the conventions of civilized warfare, had initiated the vicious bombing of unprotected German cities for the express purpose of slaughtering so many defenseless German civilians that the German government would be forced to bomb unprotected British cities and slaughter enough helpless British civilians to work up in Great Britain some enthusiasm for the suicidal war that the British government was imposing on its reluctant people -- the first example in history, I believe, of a government at war deliberately having its own citizens massacred for the purposes of propaganda. I thought that the truth about such domestic outrages as the infamous Sedition Trial in Washington would necessarily become known, and excite the feelings that such crimes must excite in the breasts of decent men.
And I was sure that a thousand other infamies, unsurpassed and only rarely equaled in recorded history, would be disclosed with the result that all the steamships outward bound from our shores would, within a few years, be crowded to their very rails with hordes of vermin desperately fleeing from the wrath of an aroused and angry nation.
