To my Brothers and Sisters on Veterans Day

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scout26

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O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!

KING HENRY V What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Ol' Willie said it much better then I ever could. All I can say is thank you for allowing me the honor of wearing the uniform and serving with you.

-Scout26
 
The honor has been mine, to serve, following a legacy of those before me. I hope that I and those with me left the same legacy of pride and devotion to duty. May we, by the grace of the Almighty, raise up another generation to follow after us.

To my Brothers and Sisters in the honorable profession of arms, Welcome Home.
 
A teacher ask our Battalion Chapter to write about Veteran's Day.

It seemed easy to say what Verteran's Day means to me but I found it difficult. I was drafted March 5th, 1968 at the age of 20. I had failed out of college and was quickly caught up in the draft. My active duty including a combat tour in Nam 68-69 was the harshest transition I could ever imagine.I became forever a part of D Co,3/8th Infantry,4TH infantry Division. This became my family one I thought lost until we started finding each other in the late 90's.Did I enjoy Nam? That answer is a resounding NO. We operated under the harshest and most difficult situations of what I believe to that of any other Infantry Division. I learned of people's lives. We talked of what our lives were in "The World" as we called the USA.I leaned to trust my life to these men as they to me. I learned of others lives, those I killed. To search their ruck sacks looking for paperwork and then to find pictures of their families was hard. I had to block it .I just wanted to come home .March 5th,1969,one year to the day I was drafted, my company was wiped out. I lost Brothers for whom I still grieve. Coming home was bitter for I recieved the hatred of the war from people I did not know, people who were once called friend ,my family. Was it worth it for me? Yes, as I came to love my country deeper, the right and freedom I have and others have.
I remember my Brothers who were killed. Finding their familes means much. Veteran's Day is a memory of an orphanage in Pleiku .I had just gotten out of a hospital and before returning to the field was ask if I wanted to pull security with some medics. The children ran out of the orphangae. They had missing limbs, burns and scars all from the NVA.
I am a Combat Veteran and stand as tall as I can for I served my country under the most difficult of conditions. My Combat Infantry Badge (CIB) and my Purple Heart say much. It is not boasting of exploits but means I stood my ground for this nation's freedom. Veteran's Day means that my wife of 35 years stood by me, loved me when my world came apart. The question does not have to be ask as I would do it again.
Byron Adams
 
"Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred:
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die,
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack & Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,
Shatter'd & sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse & hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!"
 
Byron, thank you for serving

and giving so much of yourself. You mentioned your Combat Infantryman Badge. Know that I always notice that decoration on service members and vets. For those who do not know it is an oblong badge with a blue background, which I believe stands for courage. Then there is a Kentucky Rifle superimposed on a wreath of laurel. Laurel stands for strength. The Kentucky Rifle is obvious. My hat is off to any person who has earned the right to wear that badge. I salute you today and all veterans/members of the US Armed Forces who have honorably served. Signed: Veteran U. S. Navy 1960-67 Tonkin Gulf Yacht Club, Navy Unit Commendation---Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal (Cause I was there before they even had the Vietnam Service Medal)
 
Many thanks to all our veterans who have served this wonderful country. Thank you for protecting us, keeping our freedoms, and making the sacrifice, sometimes the ultimate sacrifice, for 225+ years.
 
I PROPOSE A TOAST TO THE HARD BITTEN DRAGOONS WHO RODE WESTWARD FROM THE FLORIDA EVERGLADES TO THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS SECURING THE FRONTIERS OF OUR ADVANCING CIVILIZATION, AND WHO LED THE VICTORY MARCH INTO MEXICO CITY, THEN SECURING THE NEW TERRITORIES.

TO THE CAVALRYMAN WHO CHARGED WITH MCCLELLAN AND SHERIDAN IN THE BITTER FIGHTING BETWEEN THE STATES, AND THEN TO WIN THE WEST FOR A GROWING NATION. THE CAVALRYMAN WHO FOUGHT IN CUBA, IN THE PHILLIPPINES, AND IN FRANCE DURING WORLD WAR ONE.

TO THE MECHANIZED CAVALRYMAN WHO PROVIDED THE SHARP POINT TO THE SPEAR THAT PATTON DROVE THROUGH THE HEART OF EUROPE.

AND TO THAT ARMORED CAVALRYMAN WHO GUARDED AN UNEASY PEACE ALONG THE FRONTIER OF THE FREE WORLD UNTIL, LIKE JERRICHO, THE WALLS CAME TUMBLING DOWN.

TO THE TROOPERS FROM BINDLACH, AND TO THE TROOPERS WHO SPEARHEADED A 250 KILOMETER ATTACK INTO IRAQ, TWICE!

TO THE TROOPERS FROM BOSNIA AND HAITI AND TO THE TROOPERS FROM AFGHANISTAN!

YES, I PROPOSE A TOAST TO MANY MEN - MANY MEN WHO ARE AS ONE.

I PROPOSE A TOAST TO THAT DEDICATED FIGHTING PROFESSIONAL, THE TROOPER OF THE 2D UNITED STATES CAVALRY.
 
VETERANS DAY


To those who went before me, showing the way with courage and honor.

To those who went with me.

To those who follow behind me.

To those who are missing never to be found.

To those who gave all, while asking nothing in return.

You will always be remembered, honored and will live in our hearts and minds forever. I salute you all.


Happy Veterans Day



thank you
 
Proudly serving and hailing from the calcified rock known as Okinawa...I send my heart felt gratitude for the warm thoughts and my heart felt gratitude for those who example I follow and those who serve beside me.
 
Great poem i came across at work.

The Final Inspection

A solider stood and faced his God, which always comes to pass;
He hoped his shoes were shining as brightly as his brass.

"step foward now, there solider, how shall i deal with you?
Have you always turned your cheek, and to my church been true?"

The solider squared his shoulders, "No, Lord, i guess i ain't:
Those of us who carry guns, can't always be a saint.

"I've had to work most sundays, and sometimes talk was tough;
At times i have been violent; because the world is so rough.

"But i never took a penny, that wasn't mine to keep;
and i worked alot of overtime,when my bills became to steep."

"I never passed a cry for help, but often shook with fears,
and sometimes, God forgive me, I have wept unmanly tears.

"I know I don't deserve a place, among these good folks here;
They never wanted me around, unless a war was near."

"But if you have room for me, it need not be too grand;
I never had much anyway, so if you don't, i understand."

A silence fell around that throne, where saints had often trod;
The solider waited quietly for judgement from his God.

"Step foward now, there solider, you've borne your burdens well;
Walk peacfully on Heaven's streets, you've done your time in Hell."

Author unknown
 
Brothers and sisters,

I wish all of us a Happy Veteran's Day, for we truly deserve it. May you fondly remember those with whom you served, and the positive impacts they had on your lives. May you be aware of the positive impacts you've had on our Nations. I say Nations, because this day is for Veterans of all countries, friend, foe, and former foe turned friend alike. May the horrible memories and emotional scars from your service be blocked from your mind for at least this day, as we celebrate the sacrifices of those who gave some, and honor those great ones who gave all.

Many of us remember close friends who will never be able to witness another parade, have their hand shaken by a grateful countryman, or be saluted as they pass a young child, filled with hero-worship on this sacred day. Many of us know men and women who are, at this moment, on the front lines in the fight for peace and freedom. THR's JShirley comes quickly to mind. Veteran's Day is not just about those of us who have done our time and returned home, whether in one piece, physically battered, or emotionally shattered. Veteran's Day is a time to think of those who are still standing guard along the wall, whether it is in Afghanistan, Iraq, Korea, or Ft. Campbell, Kentucky.

To my fellow Veteran's, both past and present, I wish a Happy Veteran's Day, and I extend my thanks for your service. I consider myself blessed to be counted amongst your august ranks.

Frank
 
To Honor Vets and/or study history

you really, really should watch the program SHOOTOUT on History channel tonight. It was on at 7 PM Central time and I saw it and it will be broadcast again at 11 PM Central time tonight. It is about the Battle of the Bulge in Dec of 1944. It is extremely good and shows vividly the horrors and sacrifices made by our soldiers at that time. Watch it!!!!!
 
Thank you to all who served. And especially to my two brothers, Vietnam 1967, and my father and Father in Law, Infantry WWII , and ramrod straight Grandfather, Ambulance Corp WWI , and to the host of ancestors who picked up a flintlock to buy my freedom. THANK YOU!
 
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o'beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's ``Thank you, Mister Atkins,'' when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Atkins,'' when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy how's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints:
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind,"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country," when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!

I hope we always remember that the uniform entitles its wearer to extra respect.
 
Now each of us from time to time, has gazed upon the sea,

And watched the warships pulling out, to keep this country free

And most of us have read a book, or heard a lusty tale

About the men who sail these ships, thru lightening, wind & hail

But there’s a place within each ship that legend fails to teach

It’s down below the waterline; it takes a living toll,

A hot metal living hell, that sailors call “THE HOLE”

It houses engines run by oil, that makes the shafts go round

A place of fire, noise and heat, that beats your spirits down

Where engines like a hellish heart beat until you scream

Are of molded gods without remorse, are nightmares in a dream.

Whose threat that from the engine’s roar, is like living doubt

That any minute would like scorn, escape and crush you out.

Where turbines scream like tortured souls, alone and lost in hell,

As ordered from above somewhere, they answer every bell.

And men who keep the fires lit and make the engines run

Are strangers to the world of night and rarely see the sun.

They have no time for man or God, no tolerance for fear,

Their aspect pays no living thing, the tribute of a tear.

For there’s not much that men can do that these men haven’t done

Beneath the decks deep in the hole to make the engines run.

And every hour of every day they keep the watch in hell

For if the power ever fails, their ship’s a useless shell

When warships converge to have a war, upon an angry sea,

The men below just grimly smile at what their fate might be.

They’re locked below like men fore doomed, who hear no battle cry,

It’s well assumed that if they’re hit, the men below will die.

For every day’s a war down there, when the gages all read red

A loss of oil and bearing seize thrown rods can kill you dead.

So if you ever write their sons or try to tell their tale,

Your every word would make them hear a labored engine’s wail.

And people as a general rule don’t hear of the men of steel,

So little's heard about the place that’s closest to the keel.

But I can sing of this place and try to make you see,

The hardened life of the men down there, because one of them is me.

I’ve seen these sweat soaked heroes fight, in superheated air,

To keep their ship alive and right though no on knows their there.

And thus they’ll fight for ages on, till warships sail no more

Amid the monster’s mighty heat the engines hellish roar.

So when you see a ship pull out, to meet a warlike foe,

Remember faintly if you can “THE MEN WHO FIGHT BELOW”
 
We veterans have kept good company today

I was able to go to a gun show and to read Tennyson and Kipling, et al.
US Navy 1960-67
 
On a more somber note, and meaning no disrespect at all, one of my favorites:

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

-Wilfred Owen, who like far too many of his generation died young in WW1.
 
God Bless America, and God Bless all of my brothers and sisters in arms.

Where there's a Bill, there's a play.
Click to expand...

Wow, Biker. That pun is worth a 5 yard penalty, plus the loss of a down.:neener:
 
Frosty, where are you?

From one recently-retired USAF zoomie to another (and to all my fellow veterans, bless your hearts):

HIGH FLIGHT

By Pilot Officer John G. Magee Jr.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlight silence. Hov'ring there,

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew –

And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
Click to expand...

GFISH13.gif
 
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