Love And Thanks To All Who Serve!

[mclem0822]

* * * * *

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a 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 armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.
He is the Nebraska farmer who worries every year that this time the bank really will foreclose.
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 39th Parallel.
She — or he — 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 never has seen combat — but who has saved countless lives by turning slouchy no-'counts into soldiers, and teaching them to watch each others' 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 anonymous hero in the Tomb of the Unknowns, whose presence at Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the other anonymous heroes whose valor died 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 his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being — a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs. He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.


This editorial first appeared in 1995 .



https://www.youtube.com/embed/uoABty_zE00?rel=0



Veterans Day: Honor the great givers.

http://www.timesdispatch.com/opinion...5cc3b2d2c.html
__________________
"If you lose the power to laugh, you lose the power to think" - Clarence Darrow, American lawyer (1857-1938)

When you are right, no one remembers;when you are wrong, no one forgets.

Thought for today.."No persons are more frequently wrong, than those who will not admit
they are wrong" - Francois, Duc de la Rochefoucauld, French moralist (1613-1680)
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[GBBob]

Thanks to ALL including my late Dad (WW2) and my Brother In Law (3 Tours Flying in Iraq)

[GenuineRisk]

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 (1872-1918)

[Danzig]

thanks from a vet, and thanks to vets everywhere.
and a plea, to our 'leaders', that they use the ability and strength of our military only when truly necessary.

[casp0555]

Salute to all Servicemen and women, past and present, and especially to those who paid the ultimate sacrifice.

[casp0555]

Originally Posted by casp0555

Salute to all Servicemen and women, past and present, and especially to those who paid the ultimate sacrifice.

My Dad enlisted in the Army and was shipped to post-war Germany sometime in 1946, he doesn't talk about that part much but only to say that he had never witnessed so much suffering. He does like to talk about being recruited to play on the division's sports team where he traveled around the country playing other division teams in baseball, softball, bowling,and whatever . He was very athletic and a natural hardball player. His team won a championship and the entire team was given inscribed Rolex watches. He was coming back to stateside and was laid over in Hawaii and needed some cash so he hocked his watch to the company pawn guy and never seen the watch again. You would of thought he was Bilbo Baggins talking about wanting to see the "ring" again the way my Dad talks about that watch. and by the way, he tells this story to me and my brothers everytime we get together....I'm going to miss hearing that story one of these days, Dad turned 87 in September.

[OldDog]

Originally Posted by mclem0822

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.
He is the Nebraska farmer who worries every year that this time the bank really will foreclose.
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 39th Parallel.
She — or he — 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 never has seen combat — but who has saved countless lives by turning slouchy no-'counts into soldiers, and teaching them to watch each others' 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 anonymous hero in the Tomb of the Unknowns, whose presence at Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the other anonymous heroes whose valor died 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 his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being — a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs. He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.