OT Veteran's Day

At the risk of getting flamed within an inch of my life, thanks to all
who served in the
past, and are on active duty now. Your sacrifices are appreciated.

George Adams typed:
At the risk of getting flamed within an inch of my life, thanks to all
who served in the
past, and are on active duty now. Your sacrifices are appreciated.

I don't think there's anyone who would flame that sentiment.

Thanks is too small a word.
--
TL,
Tim
---------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj/

"George Adams" wrote in message
oups.com...
At the risk of getting flamed within an inch of my life, thanks to all
who served in the
past, and are on active duty now. Your sacrifices are appreciated.


I agree, and I sincerely hope that your efforts make a real and beneficial
difference in the world. When you leaders asked of you, you responded. Thank
you. I hope your faith and dedication has not been misplaced.

--riverman

On 11 Nov 2006 18:59:51 -0800, "George Adams"
wrote:

thanks to all
who served in the
past, and are on active duty now. Your sacrifices are appreciated.


Of course I agree. Just because I don't agree with the politicians
who send them into danger doesn't mean that I denigrate the troops. I
appreciate the fact that, like police and firemen, the armed services
are willing to put their bodies on the line to protect mine and those
I care for.
--

r.bc: vixen
Speaker to squirrels, willow watcher, etc..
Often taunted by trout. Almost entirely harmless. Really.

http://www.visi.com/~cyli

Who is a veteran?

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a
jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.

Others my carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone
together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of
internal scar forged in the refinery of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America
safe and free wear no badge or emblem.

You can't tell a veteran just by looking. So, who is a veteran? Who are
these extra special people?

He's the policeman on the beat or patrol car, who spent six months in
Saudi Arabia seating two thousand gallons a day making sure the armored
personnel carriers and aircraft didn't run out of fuel.

He's the barroom loudmouth, dumber than a wooden post to us, but whose
overgrown school-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the
cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery, exhibited near the
38th parallel.

He is the old man bagging groceries at the supermarket, very palsied
now and aggravatingly slow to us in today's fast paced lifestyle, who
helped liberate Nazi Death camps, and who wishes all day long that his
wife were still alive to hold him when his nightmares return.

He is the priest or minister in the local parish, who delivered the
last rights to dying young boys more times during one year in Vietnam,
than most other priests or ministers could deliver in ten lifetimes.

He or she is the nurse we see in the hospital, who fought against
futility, watching young boys die, or remain permanently disabled, and
went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in DaNang.

He is the prisoner of war, who went away one person, and came back
another....or hasn't come back yet at all.

He is the drill instructor, who has never seen combat himself, but has
saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account, rednecks and gang
members, inexperienced young men and women, into Soldiers and Marines,
and taught them to watch each other's backs in a time of need.

He's the parade-riding Legionnaire, who proudly pins ribbons and medals
to his chest with prosthetic hand - courtesy of a battle forgotten by
everyone, but him.

He's the career Quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass
him by, but whose function is indispensable during an active campaign.

There are the anonymous heroes in the "Tomb of the Unknowns" whose
presence at the Arlington Memorial Cemetery must forever preserve the
memory of all anonymous heroes that made the supreme sacrifice, and
whose valor died unrecognized with them on the battlefields and on the
oceans of the world.

He's an ordinary, and yet extraordinary human being; a person who
offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his
country - who sacrificed his ambitions so that others wouldn't have to
sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier, and a savior, and a sword against the darkness. He is
nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the
finest, greatest nation ever known. And we must never forget all that
they have given to us, which most of us take for granted today living
in our great nation-
Because:

It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the
press.

It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the soldier, not the organizer, who has given us the freedom to
assemble and demonstrate.

And it is the soldier, who proudly salutes our Flag.
Who faithfully serves beneath our Flag.
And whose coffin is honorably draped under our Flag.

"Mike" wrote in message
ups.com...







Who is a veteran?

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a
jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.

Others my carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone
together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of
internal scar forged in the refinery of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America
safe and free wear no badge or emblem.

You can't tell a veteran just by looking. So, who is a veteran? Who are
these extra special people?

He's the policeman on the beat or patrol car, who spent six months in
Saudi Arabia seating two thousand gallons a day making sure the armored
personnel carriers and aircraft didn't run out of fuel.

He's the barroom loudmouth, dumber than a wooden post to us, but whose
overgrown school-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the
cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery, exhibited near the
38th parallel.

He is the old man bagging groceries at the supermarket, very palsied
now and aggravatingly slow to us in today's fast paced lifestyle, who
helped liberate Nazi Death camps, and who wishes all day long that his
wife were still alive to hold him when his nightmares return.

He is the priest or minister in the local parish, who delivered the
last rights to dying young boys more times during one year in Vietnam,
than most other priests or ministers could deliver in ten lifetimes.

He or she is the nurse we see in the hospital, who fought against
futility, watching young boys die, or remain permanently disabled, and
went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in DaNang.

He is the prisoner of war, who went away one person, and came back
another....or hasn't come back yet at all.

He is the drill instructor, who has never seen combat himself, but has
saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account, rednecks and gang
members, inexperienced young men and women, into Soldiers and Marines,
and taught them to watch each other's backs in a time of need.

He's the parade-riding Legionnaire, who proudly pins ribbons and medals
to his chest with prosthetic hand - courtesy of a battle forgotten by
everyone, but him.

He's the career Quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass
him by, but whose function is indispensable during an active campaign.

There are the anonymous heroes in the "Tomb of the Unknowns" whose
presence at the Arlington Memorial Cemetery must forever preserve the
memory of all anonymous heroes that made the supreme sacrifice, and
whose valor died unrecognized with them on the battlefields and on the
oceans of the world.

He's an ordinary, and yet extraordinary human being; a person who
offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his
country - who sacrificed his ambitions so that others wouldn't have to
sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier, and a savior, and a sword against the darkness. He is
nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the
finest, greatest nation ever known. And we must never forget all that
they have given to us, which most of us take for granted today living
in our great nation-
Because:

It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the
press.

It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the soldier, not the organizer, who has given us the freedom to
assemble and demonstrate.

And it is the soldier, who proudly salutes our Flag.
Who faithfully serves beneath our Flag.
And whose coffin is honorably draped under our Flag.

Actually, most of us are very ordinary folks who just happen to have worked
in one or another branch of the armed forces of one or another nation for a
couple of years and did nothing the least bit brave or heroic. Most of us
sacrificed nothing and were much too busy with our own personal
post-adolescent concerns to be bothered about lofty ideals like freedom,
duty, honor, blah blah. Most of us are not, have never been, and will never
be Americans; most of us served some other greatest nation ever
known.....insofar as absorbing vast quantities of ethanol can be considered
a service.

The temporary presence of one or another garish bit of cloth
notwithstanding, coffins are draped with dirt.

Wolfgang
who will not go so far as to deny being a savior.....but the job would be a
lot easier with a bit of cooperation from the erstwhile saved.

Mike wrote:
Who is a veteran?
snip
It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the
press.

It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the soldier, not the organizer, who has given us the freedom to
assemble and demonstrate.

A nice sentiment overall; but I take issue with the thought that only
soldiers protect our freedoms. Yes, when deadly force is the chosen
option, it is the soldier who steps to the fore; but while military men
and women fight with guns and bombs, the heroism of journalists, poets,
and activists in the preservation of freedom cannot and should not be
discounted.

Joe F.

George Adams wrote:
Your sacrifices are appreciated.

He was a "war baby", born in 1919 shortly after the end of WW1; and
he was of age to answer the call when the next war began. My
father-in-law left his family, job, and fiancée to enlist in the Army
as Hitler's forces swept across Europe. He endured all of the
horrors of war in France and Germany as a forward artillery spotter
during the Bulge, wounded twice, and received a Bronze Star for heroic
action. Coming home in 1945, he re-entered life as a civilian; and I
met him 40 years later when I married his daughter.

One of the things anyone who knew him could see was that the war never
left him. The bonds of friendship and loyalty formed in those days
were cemented in time. His experiences more fresh in his memory than
anything since. He often told the stories of his comrades, his
commanders, and the action he saw. Too often, we treated their
repeated telling as the ramblings of an old man. Too soon, a stroke
robbed him of the ability to tell them to another generation as his
grandchildren grew.

A month ago tomorrow, he passed away; another veteran fading quietly
into history. Because of his service, his patriotism, and his fervent
love of his country, we made arrangements for a local American Legion
Post to provide military honors. A half hour before the funeral,
however, they called and cancelled. That this man should be laid to
rest, forgotten by his own brethren was nothing short of a tragedy.

As the casket was prepared for lowering, the funeral home personnel did
their dignified best in folding the flag and presenting it to the
widow. Then, across the cemetery, a drum roll and the sound of taps
being played pierced the stillness. A brother-in-law, a Civil War
re-enactor, by chance had his drum in his car. His brother-in-law, a
music teacher at a nearby high school, had rushed to the cemetery with
his trumpet. As unexpected as it was haunting, it was a fitting and
emotional tribute. Stand down, Seargent.

Joe F.

On 13 Nov 2006 07:34:45 -0800, "rb608"
wrote:

A half hour before the funeral,
however, they called and cancelled. That this man should be laid to
rest, forgotten by his own brethren was nothing short of a tragedy.


I certainly hope they had a damn good excuse. That's just tacky. If
they couldn't do the honour guard, they should at least have sent a
representative. They seem to show up regularly to the Legion bar.

As the casket was prepared for lowering, the funeral home personnel did
their dignified best in folding the flag and presenting it to the
widow. Then, across the cemetery, a drum roll and the sound of taps
being played pierced the stillness. A brother-in-law, a Civil War
re-enactor, by chance had his drum in his car. His brother-in-law, a
music teacher at a nearby high school, had rushed to the cemetery with
his trumpet. As unexpected as it was haunting, it was a fitting and
emotional tribute. Stand down, Seargent.

Very sweet.
--

r.bc: vixen
Speaker to squirrels, willow watcher, etc..
Often taunted by trout. Almost entirely harmless. Really.

http://www.visi.com/~cyli

"Cyli" wrote in message
I certainly hope they had a damn good excuse.

I didn't make the arrangements, so I didn't hear the excuse. I can't
imagine it was good enough.

Very sweet.

Thanks.

Joe F.