By Ken Robinson

Managing Editor

In 1966, I was drafted into the U.S. Army at 22 years old while still a college student. After boot camp and occupational specialty training, I was sent to Germany. I was posted to the same division that had earlier hosted Elvis Presley: the 3rd Armored Division.

My training took place at the Defense Information School in Indianapolis. Eight weeks later, in a gymnasium on post at Frankfurt, I sat with about 500 new recruits waiting to hear their assignments. I figured that because I grew up in the community newspaper business in Seattle, I would be directed to a related assignment.

Like all the other "newfers" in the gym, I was a little nervous. Then a crewcut PFC came around and handed people their assignments. I was being sent to southern Germany to be a tank crewman. My hope for a plum job on the base newspaper dwindled.

An hour or so passed while the rest of the assignments were handed out. I was feeling pretty glum. A soldier with more than one stripe on his arm yelled at the group through a bullhorn: “Can anyone in here use a typewriter?” Of the hundreds of new soldiers, I was one of two guys who raised a hand. I got reassigned to the base reenlistment office as a clerk-typist.

My job was to process the paperwork for guys who wanted to stay in the Army.

Two months later, there was an opening on the base newspaper, The Spearhead. I transferred to that role as a reporter for the base community.

That weekly paper was composed in Darmstadt, Germany, about 20 miles south of Frankfurt. The shop was where the European edition of the Army's Stars and Stripes was assembled. It was standard for the time, with clusters of Linotype machines clacking out lines of metal type. It looked and smelled like the print shop I grew up in at The White Center News. I was Br'er Rabbit in my own briar patch.

Being a budding journalist in the military was both a blessing and a wonderful adventure, courtesy of the United States government.

A fellow soldier who was a gifted photographer got assigned to shoot for Stars and Stripes. I was jealous, but I had a great role myself and believed I was right in the mix to do what journalists do: report the news to its audience.

Last month, I learned that the Pentagon is heavily overhauling and restructuring the paper's operations. Instead of closing, the editorially independent military publication is facing major content restrictions and increased Defense Department oversight under a modernization plan.

“The Department of War is returning Stars & Stripes to its original mission: reporting for our warfighters,” Sean Parnell said. “We will modernize its operations, refocus its content away from woke distractions that siphon morale, and adapt it to serve a new generation of service members.”

Six years ago, Trump said he did not support a previous suggestion that the paper be shuttered.

Now, the “modernized” publication will focus on warfighting, weapons systems, fitness, lethality, survivability, and “ALL THINGS MILITARY,” according to Parnell.

My experience as a military journalist pretty much follows the pattern described by Parnell. After my duty in Frankfurt, I became editor of The Berlin Observer. That paper was described as the American newspaper in Berlin and did offer some lifestyle reportage, including movie reviews.

While the editorial thrust of Stars and Stripes is theoretically protected by the First Amendment, its source material is drawn directly from the activities of the armed forces. There is a certain mandate that Uncle Sam is the editor-in-chief.

That has always been true, and while there is not enough time here to dissect that notion, there has always been a bent toward full support of the military. Sort of. It has always been true that criticism of the military and its mission was just not going to happen.

Now it looks like that is being tested.

Warmonger Pete Hegseth is what some observers characterize as a “foamer.” When he speaks, he seems to have bubbly white spittle at the corners of his mouth that he produces while thinking of war plans and looking bug-eyed for anyone in the ranks who does not fall in line with him.

He comes off as a heretical pitchman for violence under the aegis of the government.

Sure, the model of Stars and Stripes that was cherished in Tom Brokaw's book The Greatest Generation, celebrating our military during the Second World War, could use some dusting off and polishing. But the men and women who were featured in that era were bonded by a real patriotism that is hard to match these days.

Why do I care about the future of Stars and Stripes? I was schooled by my mother and father, who owned a weekly newspaper. Their conviction was to tell the stories of the people in the community—both positive and sometimes negative—without judgment and without redacting anything observable in reporting. They inspired me to attend community meetings, to listen (most importantly) to the voices in the community, and to tell the audience what was said. Curiously, even those who did not like to see their own words in print would agree that they appreciated being heard.

I believe in this mantra and still do. I believe in the fair exchange of ideas and in the right of everyone to express themselves. Admittedly, I sometimes found revolting things professed by some. But I was also encouraged by the courageous points of view of some people who otherwise had no forum.

The internet has tossed all this into a salad. It is our job—your job—to pick out the good parts.