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Remembrance Day

Discussion in 'Off Topic [BG]' started by BassGod, Nov 11, 2006.


  1. BassGod

    BassGod

    Jan 21, 2004
    In Flanders fields the poppies blow
    Between the crosses, row on row,
    That mark our place; and in the sky
    The larks, still bravely singing, fly
    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the Dead. Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
    Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
    In Flanders fields.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe;
    To you from failing hands we throw
    The torch; be yours to hold it high.
    If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
    In Flanders fields.

    ~ John McCrae


    Lest we forget.

    Graeme
     
  2. Vorago

    Vorago (((o)))

    Jul 17, 2003
    Antwerp, Belgium
    We can't imagine what those guys in the trenches went through....:(

    I expected to see more replies...:scowl:
     
  3. Jazzin'

    Jazzin' ...Bluesin' and Funkin'

    [​IMG]
     
  4. Lazylion

    Lazylion Goin ahead on wit my bad self!

    Jan 25, 2006
    Frederick MD USA
    My dad is a Navy vet, WW II. He never talked about it much. One thing he did say was that he learned how to drink beer in the Navy. Apparently each sailor was allowed a ration of beer. It wasn't that he liked the beer so much, but if you didn't drink your beer, you had to decide who to give it to. He didn't like to disappoint anyone, so he learned to drink it himself.
    He's 81 now, and he still remembers how.

    We'll be having dinner tonight. Might even have a beer to toast veterans with.

    Edit: Yup, we did.
     
  5. DaveDeVille

    DaveDeVille ... you talkin' to me ??

    my Dad ...
    dad-1.gif Dad-1.gif
    i miss him .
     
  6. Remember November 11th is Veterans Day -- Some Thoughts

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

    Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg-or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's alloy forged in the refinery of adversity.

    Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet just by looking.

    What is a vet?

    He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the tanks didn't run out of fuel.

    He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

    She is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.

    He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back at all.

    He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.

    He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.

    He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.

    He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb of the Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.

    He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket-palsied now and aggravatingly slow-who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

    They are the troops on patrol in some godforsaken, war-torn country whose mere presence is a promise that nothing bad will happen on their watch, and who give the downtrodden a sense of hope for a better future.

    They are the soldiers, sailors, airmen, coasties and Marines who since September 11th have galvanized a nation and given us all a new definition of “hero.”

    They are ordinary and yet extraordinary human beings-people who offered some of their life's most vital years in the service of their country, and who sacrificed their ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

    A vet is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

    So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.

    Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU".

    "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 campus organizer,
    Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
    It is the soldier,
    Who salutes the flag,
    Who serves beneath the flag,
    And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
    Who allows the protester to burn the flag."

    Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC

    “We sleep safely in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.”

    Attributed to George Orwell
     
  7. Here's a big cold one for all the vets out there. [​IMG]

    My Dad served in WWII and Korea. RIP




    [​IMG]
    We sleep safely in our beds because rough men stand ready
    in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.
    — George Orwell​
     
  8. Lazylion

    Lazylion Goin ahead on wit my bad self!

    Jan 25, 2006
    Frederick MD USA
    For those who haven't seen it before, here's a piece my dad forwarded to me on Friday. The book referred to in the 5th paragraph might be the one on which the current Clint Eastwood movie is based.

    (Note: author unknown)
    ++++++++++++++++
    Tale of Six Boys

    Each year I am hired to go to Washington , DC , with the
    eighth grade class from Clinton , WI . where I grew up, to
    videotape their trip. I greatly enjoy visiting our nation's
    capitol, and each year I take some special memories back
    with me. This fall's trip was especially memorable.

    On the last night of our trip, we stopped at the Iwo Jima
    memorial. This memorial is the largest bronze statue in the
    world and depicts one of the most famous photographs in
    history -- that of the six brave soldiers raising the
    American Flag at the top of a rocky hill on the island of
    Iwo Jima , Japan , during WW II.

    Over one hundred students and chaperones piled off the buses
    and headed towards the memorial. I noticed a solitary figure
    at the base of the statue, and as I got closer he asked,
    "Where are you guys from?" I told him that we were from
    Wisconsin . "Hey, I'm a cheese head, too! Come gather around,
    Cheese heads, and I will tell you a story."

    (James Bradley just happened to be in Washington , DC ,to
    speak at the memorial the following day. He was there that
    night to say good night to his dad, who has since passed
    away. He was just about to leave when he saw the buses pull
    up. I videotaped him as he spoke to us, and received his
    permission to share what he said from my videotape. It is
    one thing to tour the incredible monuments filled with
    history in Washington , D.C. , but it is quite another to get
    the kind of insight we received that night.) When all had
    gathered around, he reverently began to speak. (Here are his
    words that night.)

    "My name is James Bradley and I'm from Antigo, Wisconsin . My
    dad is on that statue, and I just wrote a book called "Flags
    of Our Fathers" which is #5 on the New York Times Best
    Seller list right now. It is the story of the six boys you
    see behind me.

    "Six boys raised the flag. The first guy putting the pole in
    the ground is Harlon Block. Harlon was an all-state football
    player. He enlisted in the Marine Corps with all the senior
    members of his football team. They were off to play another
    type of game. A game called "War." But it didn't turn out to
    be a game. Harlon, at the age of 21, died with his
    intestines in his hands. I don't say that to gross you out,
    I say that because there are people who stand in front of
    this statue and talk about the glory of war. You guys need
    to know that most of the boys in Iwo Jima were 17, 18, and
    19 years old.

    (He pointed to the statue) "You see this next guy? That's
    Rene Gagnon from New Hampshire . If you took Rene's helmet
    off at the moment this photo was taken and looked in the
    webbing of that helmet, you would find a photograph...a
    photograph of his girlfriend. Rene put that in there for
    protection because he was scared. He was 18 years old. Boys
    won the battle of Iwo Jima . Boys. Not old men.

    "The next guy here, the third guy in this tableau, was
    Sergeant Mike Strank. Mike is my hero. He was the hero of
    all these guys. They called him the "old man" because he was
    so old. He was already 24. When Mike would motivate his boys
    in training camp, he didn't say, 'Let's go kill some
    Japanese' or 'Let's die for our country.' He knew he was
    talking to little boys. Instead he would say, 'You do what I
    say, and I'll get you home to your mothers.'

    "The last guy on this side of the statue is Ira Hayes, a
    Pima Indian from Arizona . Ira Hayes walked off Iwo Jima . He
    went into the White House with my dad. President Truman told
    him, 'You're a hero' He told reporters, 'How can I feel like
    a hero when 250 of my buddies hit the island with me and
    only 27 of us walked off alive?' So you take your class at
    school, 250 of you spending a year together having fun,
    doing everything together. Then all 250 of you hit the beach
    , but only 27 of your classmates walk off alive. That was
    Ira Hayes. He had images of horror in his mind. Ira Hayes
    died dead drunk, face down at the age of 32 .. ten years
    after this picture was taken.

    "The next guy, going around the statue, is Franklin Sousley
    from Hilltop, Kentucky . A fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. His
    best friend, who is now 70, told me, 'Yeah, you know, we
    took two cows up on the porch of the Hilltop General Store.
    Then we strung wire across the stairs so the cows couldn't
    get down. Then we fed them Epsom salts. Those cows crapped
    all night. Yes, he was a fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. Franklin
    died on Iwo Jima at the age of 19. When the telegram came to
    tell his mother that he was dead, it went to the Hilltop
    General Store. A barefoot boy ran that telegram up to his
    mother's farm. The neighbors could hear her scream all night
    and into the morning. The neighbors lived a quarter of a
    mile away.

    "The next guy, as we continue to go around the statue, is my
    dad, John Bradley from Antigo, Wisconsin , where I was
    raised.. My dad lived until 1994, but he would never give
    interviews. When Walter Cronkite's producers, or the New York Times would call, we were trained as little kids to say
    'No, I'm sorry, sir, my dad's not here. He is in Canada
    fishing. No, there is no phone there, sir. No, we don't know
    when he is coming back. My dad never fished or even went to
    Canada . Usually, he was sitting there right at the table
    eating his Campbell 's soup. But we had to tell the press
    that he was out fishing. He didn't want to talk to the
    press. You see, my dad didn't see himself as a hero.
    Everyone thinks these guys are heroes, 'cause they are in a
    photo and on a monument. My dad knew better. He was a medic.
    John Bradley from Wisconsin was a caregiver. In Iwo Jima he
    probably held over 200 boys as they died. And when boys died
    in Iwo Jima , they writhed and screamed in pain.

    "When I was a little boy, my third grade teacher told me
    that my dad was a hero. When I went home and told my dad
    that, he looked at me and said, 'I want you always to
    remember that the heroes of Iwo Jima are the guys who did
    not come back. Did NOT come back.'"

    "So that's the story about six nice young boys. Three died
    on Iwo Jima , and three came back as national heroes.
    Overall, 7,000 boys died on Iwo Jima in the worst battle in
    the history of the Marine Corps. My voice is giving out, so
    I will end here. Thank you for your time."

    Suddenly, the monument wasn't just a big old piece of metal
    with a flag sticking out of the top. It came to life before
    our eyes with the heartfelt words of a son who did indeed
    have a father who was a hero. Maybe not a hero for the
    reasons most people would believe, but a hero nonetheless.

    We need to remember that God created this vast and glorious
    world for us to live in, freely, but also at great
    sacrifice. Let us never forget from the Revolutionary War to
    the current War on Terrorism and all the wars in-between
    that sacrifice was made for our freedom. Remember to pray
    praises for this great country of ours and also pray for
    those still in murderous unrest around the world. STOP and
    thank God for being alive and being free due to someone else's sacrifice.

    REMINDER: Everyday that you can wake up free is a blessing.
     
  9. Kibuddy

    Kibuddy

    Apr 30, 2005
    Thanks for posting that, Lazylion.

    I always think that it's kind of hard for me to put some of this into perspective, seeing as I'm still young. Then I read that, and I realize that most of the kids who went off and didn't come home were just a year or two older than I am.
     
  10. Bard2dbone

    Bard2dbone

    Aug 4, 2002
    Arlington TX
    Excellent post Lazylion.



    I started to say more. But on reflection I will stop with this.
     

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