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Remember our war veterans...

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Lawguy wrote:
[ QUOTE ]
...These are fine, bright, highly intelligent and highly motivated individuals, all of whom deserve our highest respect.

We often think of the aging WWI (not many), WWII, Korean War and Vietnam vets- and we should, but we have a whole new generation of vets to whom we owe a debt of gratitude.

[/ QUOTE ]

You're arguin' before th' choir, James. Your point is well taken.

It's a source of constant amazement how many of us (BCF participants) are former military as well.


...THAT has me peepers wellin' too: we "get" it.
 
Here in Canada, most of our veterans are from WW1, WW2 and Korean War... If you consider combat roles overseas, our recent presence in Afghanistan is the first official military mission since the Korean War.

In between that time period our only official overseas presence was on many UN peacekeeping missions.

Just a little history lesson...

Our ceremonies in Canada commemorate all historical roles we have performed since WW1, and there is even a monument in Calgary for veterans of the Boer (South African) War, for those who know some early military history... And that monument is in the same park as the main cenotaph
 
A poem by Robert W. Service, British-born Canadian poet (1874 - 1958):

The March of the Dead

The cruel war was over -- oh, the triumph was so sweet!
We watched the troops returning, through our tears;
There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street,
And you scarce could hear the music for the cheers.
And you scarce could see the house-tops for the flags that flew between;
The bells were pealing madly to the sky;
And everyone was shouting for the Soldiers of the Queen,
And the glory of an age was passing by.

And then there came a shadow, swift and sudden, dark and drear;
The bells were silent, not an echo stirred.
The flags were drooping sullenly, the men forgot to cheer;
We waited, and we never spoke a word.
The sky grew darker, darker, till from out the gloomy rack
There came a voice that checked the heart with dread:
"Tear down, tear down your bunting now, and hang up sable black;
They are coming -- it's the Army of the Dead."

They were coming, they were coming, gaunt and ghastly, sad and slow;
They were coming, all the crimson wrecks of pride;
With faces seared, and cheeks red smeared, and haunting eyes of woe,
And clotted holes the khaki couldn't hide.
Oh, the clammy brow of anguish! the livid, foam-flecked lips!
The reeling ranks of ruin swept along!
The limb that trailed, the hand that failed, the bloody finger tips!
And oh, the dreary rhythm of their song!

"They left us on the veldt-side, but we felt we couldn't stop
On this, our England's crowning festal day;
We're the men of Magersfontein, we're the men of Spion Kop,
Colenso -- we're the men who had to pay.
We're the men who paid the blood-price. Shall the grave be all our gain?
You owe us. Long and heavy is the score.
Then cheer us for our glory now, and cheer us for our pain,
And cheer us as ye never cheered before."

The folks were white and stricken,
and each tongue seemed weighted with lead;
Each heart was clutched in hollow hand of ice;
And every eye was staring at the horror of the dead,
The pity of the men who paid the price.
They were come, were come to mock us, in the first flush of our peace;
Through writhing lips their teeth were all agleam;
They were coming in their thousands -- oh, would they never cease!
I closed my eyes, and then -- it was a dream.

There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet gleaming street;
The town was mad; a man was like a boy.
A thousand flags were flaming where the sky and city meet;
A thousand bells were thundering the joy.
There was music, mirth and sunshine; but some eyes shone with regret;
And while we stun with cheers our homing braves,
O God, in Thy great mercy, let us nevermore forget
The graves they left behind, the bitter graves.
 
I dunno what the deal is around the area I live, but I don't think I've ~ever~ seen anyone in a JROTC uniform fund raising for the VFW or DAV out here... Maybe it's the lack of a military base in the immediate vicinity, I dunno.

I remember being in AFJROTC in my high school years and helping out the VFW and DAV by giving out poppies and taking donations every year. If'n I remember right, we did VFW fund raisers around Veteran's Day and we did DAV around Memorial Day.

Veteran's Day reminds me, I'm gonna hafta give a shout out to me buds still in the Corps come Friday. erm... wish them a "Happy Birthday" that is /ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smirk.gif
 
My nephew just came home from Iraq last month after being there for 8 mths. He was in the seebees, a 37 year old reservist, they lost a couple of guys in the time they were there. He spent his time in the USN aboard the USS abe lincoln and his time in Iraq ashore repairing roads ,schools etc. We are sure glad he came back safely.
 
Well, JROTC is becoming more and more scarce. Not due to politics mostly, thank heaven, but instead due to budget cuts. No PT classes, no art or music classes, no extra-curricular activities that aren't paid for by parents or that aren't money-makers; just teach to the test and get 'em out.

Every year that goes by, the concept of service becomes more scarce. 9/11 helped in a really morbid and tragic way, but the surge is waning. And every day that goes by, we lose more and more of our vets.

I have to admit, I'm an oddity on a lot of levels: 53 years old; an Army Reservist currently on active duty learning Arabic; former active duty Drill Sergeant; volunteered (NOT drafted) during Viet Nam; 10 years active duty followed by a break then reserve time; 11 years as a volunteer EMT/Paramedic; and a life-long left-leaning Liberal (capital "L").

HOWEVER - and this is my point.... I have felt for some time now, even before 9/11, Afghanistan, and Iraq that maybe we should return to a draft. It'll never fly politically unless we're in completely desparate straits but a lot of folks drafted during the Viet Nam war went on to complete 20 or 30 year careers simply because they understood the concept of service.

Maybe if more folks served then Veteran's Day, Remembrance Day, and the rest would mean more than just another sale at Kohl's. (Okay, let's keep the sales - I need new pants. Just let's not make them the reason for the holiday.)

IMHO.

R.
 
293024041_47c18cfaed.jpg
 
izzat Chuck Norris?


sorry ... I couldn't help myself *hangs head in shame*
 
The VFW still sells poppys. We do it as a reminder and to raise money for the organization. We also sometimes give them away when we are having a function just as a reminder.
 
So it sounds like certain areas of the United States sell them, but that it's not wide spread... Interesting...
 
Yeah, I know growing up in Ft Walton Bch, FL, we sold them, but then that town has Eglin AFB on one end, and Hurlbert Field on the other end. Then there's Pensacola Naval Air station down the road a bit, and Tendel AFB and a minor Navy Station in Panama City. The town I grew up in lived and breathed with the Military. If they closed Eglin down, I dread to know what will happen to the economy there.

LA maybe different, because the military bases don't have very much influence on the economy, not to mention none of them are "in my backyard" out here. The local high school has a AFJROTC unit, but I haven't seen them do much beyond car wash fund raisers and Color Guard at sports events.
 
Veteran's Day. I'd be willing to bet that practically every population center, town, and city in the USA has some kind of Vet's day ceremony tomorrow.

You can find the location of the ceremony in your local newspaper. The time is easy: it's always the eleventh month, the eleventh day, and the eleventh hour. It's when the Armistice ending WWI was signed. If you've never attended your local ceremony (and, I guarantee there's one near you!), go! There will be elderly, white-haired guys, Viet Nam vets, and other observers from virtually every walk of life.

And, bring a few tissues. It's really hard not to get "verklempt" at these solemn events. At least it is for me.

/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/patriot.gif
 
294031455_d0613bb856_m.jpg


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 ally forged in the refinery of adversity.

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

What is a vet?

He’s the cop on the beat who spent six months in Bosnia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers 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 heroic bravery.

She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for months.

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

He is the drill instructor who has never seen combat-but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and slackers into soldiers, 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 Unknown Soldier in The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, whose presence must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield.

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.

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 those who take freedom for granted.

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." Remember November 11th is Remembrance Day!

"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.

The passage above was written by a military chaplain. It serves as a reminder for all of us on Remembrance Day

www.am770chqr.com/station/blog_calgary_today.cfm

John Huthersall who was selling poppies for Remembrance Day (at Chinook Centre in Calgary)
 
[ QUOTE ]
So it sounds like certain areas of the United States sell them, but that it's not wide spread... Interesting...

[/ QUOTE ]

WHen I was a kid growing up in West Virginia, the poppys were always a big part of Vets Day, but out west they are not nearly as much.

Basil
 
Written by Thomas Moore

Forget not the field where they perish'd,
The truest, the last of the brave,
All gone - and the bright hope we cherish'd
Gone with them, and quench'd in their grave!

Oh! could we from death but recover
These hearts they bounded before,
In the face of high heav'n to fight over
That combat for freedom once more;

Could the chain for an instant be riven
Which tyranny flung round us then,
No! 'tis not in Man nor in Heaven
To let tyranny bind it again!

But 'tis past - and tho' blazon'd in story
The name of our Victor may be,
Accurst is the march of that glory
Which treads o'er the hearts of the free.

Far dearer the grave or the prison
Illum'd by one patriot name,
Than the trophies of all who have risen
On Liberty's ruins to fame!


Jeff
 
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