Mr. P
11-11-2022, 09:39 AM
I'm compelled to re-post two parts of an old project, which was a collaboration between myself and CSM who has now passed. First posted at our old house early 2000s and here in 2007. :salute:
*******************************************
What is a Vet?
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.
So, what is a vet?
He's 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's 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 (or he) is the nurse who fought against futility and went to
sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
He's the POW who went away one person and came back another...
or didn't come back at all.
He's 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's the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and
medals with a prosthetic hand.
He's the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals
pass him by.
He's 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's the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket, palsied
now and aggravatingly slow, who helped liberate a Nazi death camp
and who wished all day long that his wife were still alive to
hold him when the nightmares come.
He's an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being, a person
who offered some of this 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's a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness,
and he's 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 so much, "Thank You!"
It's the soldier, sailor, marine and airman, not the reporter,
who has given us freedom of the press.
It's the soldier, sailor, marine and airman, not the campus
organizer, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, sailor, marine and airman, who salute the
flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by
the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.
- Anonymous
Veterans Day
By CSM
Another Veterans Day just like many others has arrived. There will
be flags, parades, and poems honoring vets everywhere that will bring a tear
to the eye and a swelling of pride to the heart. Some older folks will don
their old uniform, perhaps for the last time, straighten up their crooked
backs, and haltingly shuffle out into public. Some younger folks will
squeeze themselves into a not so old uniform that is just a wee bit too
small for them anymore but still gives a fair representation of that young
Marine, Soldier, Airman, or Sailor that so recently finished his or her
hitch. There will be others who are serving still, who will form ranks and
march down Main Street to martial tunes played by the high school band along
with the old and not so old vet. Proudly they will pass by, carrying flags
and banners, wearing patches and symbols that designate a forgotten unit or
battle in a war long over, or of even more recent events in far off lands.
There will be even more vets who, for whatever reason, will keep a low
profile. They will not march in any parades or wear any uniform. They will
not hear the poems and praise being broadcast in their honor. Yet they too,
will stand a little straighter and a little taller on this day. They too
will have that small gleam in their eye, that little spark, by which every
veteran, no matter his age, is marked as having served.
The older vets will look back and see the younger vets arrayed behind them
and grunt with satisfaction that they are leaving the country in good hands.
The younger vets will look ahead and see the older vets in front and,
perhaps with just a bit of awe, determine to carry on as they did. Those
younger vets will also look behind them and see those still serving, and
think that they too leave the country in good hands. Those still serving
will see the old and not so old vets in front of them, and perhaps with the
same sense of awe, will determine that their generation will do as well or
better as those in front of them. All, the young and old alike, will
remember those who were like them, yet gave more in their service. Many will
shed a tear or two for their lost comrades, and render that mental salute
reserved for those who gave full measure. Each and every one of them will
get that little tug at their heart when TAPS is played and the salute fired.
Then they will go home or back to their barracks and be themselves once
more, to be just as they have always been on every other day of the year.
Ladies and gentlemen, those veterans we seek to honor today did not serve
for glory. They did not serve for money. They did not serve position or
power. They served for ideals that some consider politically incorrect in
this day and age. They served for us, this country, and its people. You do
not have to heap praise on them, you do not have to throw flowers or money.
You do not have to genuflect before them or even shake their hands. In fact,
they do not ask for anything. They hope, however, that you will say "Thank you".
Have a nice Veterans Day, guys....SALUTE!!
Mr. P
******When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep? ~George Canning******
.
.
.
*******************************************
What is a Vet?
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.
So, what is a vet?
He's 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's 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 (or he) is the nurse who fought against futility and went to
sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
He's the POW who went away one person and came back another...
or didn't come back at all.
He's 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's the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and
medals with a prosthetic hand.
He's the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals
pass him by.
He's 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's the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket, palsied
now and aggravatingly slow, who helped liberate a Nazi death camp
and who wished all day long that his wife were still alive to
hold him when the nightmares come.
He's an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being, a person
who offered some of this 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's a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness,
and he's 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 so much, "Thank You!"
It's the soldier, sailor, marine and airman, not the reporter,
who has given us freedom of the press.
It's the soldier, sailor, marine and airman, not the campus
organizer, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, sailor, marine and airman, who salute the
flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by
the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.
- Anonymous
Veterans Day
By CSM
Another Veterans Day just like many others has arrived. There will
be flags, parades, and poems honoring vets everywhere that will bring a tear
to the eye and a swelling of pride to the heart. Some older folks will don
their old uniform, perhaps for the last time, straighten up their crooked
backs, and haltingly shuffle out into public. Some younger folks will
squeeze themselves into a not so old uniform that is just a wee bit too
small for them anymore but still gives a fair representation of that young
Marine, Soldier, Airman, or Sailor that so recently finished his or her
hitch. There will be others who are serving still, who will form ranks and
march down Main Street to martial tunes played by the high school band along
with the old and not so old vet. Proudly they will pass by, carrying flags
and banners, wearing patches and symbols that designate a forgotten unit or
battle in a war long over, or of even more recent events in far off lands.
There will be even more vets who, for whatever reason, will keep a low
profile. They will not march in any parades or wear any uniform. They will
not hear the poems and praise being broadcast in their honor. Yet they too,
will stand a little straighter and a little taller on this day. They too
will have that small gleam in their eye, that little spark, by which every
veteran, no matter his age, is marked as having served.
The older vets will look back and see the younger vets arrayed behind them
and grunt with satisfaction that they are leaving the country in good hands.
The younger vets will look ahead and see the older vets in front and,
perhaps with just a bit of awe, determine to carry on as they did. Those
younger vets will also look behind them and see those still serving, and
think that they too leave the country in good hands. Those still serving
will see the old and not so old vets in front of them, and perhaps with the
same sense of awe, will determine that their generation will do as well or
better as those in front of them. All, the young and old alike, will
remember those who were like them, yet gave more in their service. Many will
shed a tear or two for their lost comrades, and render that mental salute
reserved for those who gave full measure. Each and every one of them will
get that little tug at their heart when TAPS is played and the salute fired.
Then they will go home or back to their barracks and be themselves once
more, to be just as they have always been on every other day of the year.
Ladies and gentlemen, those veterans we seek to honor today did not serve
for glory. They did not serve for money. They did not serve position or
power. They served for ideals that some consider politically incorrect in
this day and age. They served for us, this country, and its people. You do
not have to heap praise on them, you do not have to throw flowers or money.
You do not have to genuflect before them or even shake their hands. In fact,
they do not ask for anything. They hope, however, that you will say "Thank you".
Have a nice Veterans Day, guys....SALUTE!!
Mr. P
******When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep? ~George Canning******
.
.
.