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"She is ever watchful and... her talons are treacherous"
UNKNOWN USMC [ Contributed by: Howard Mason ]
The Chaplain wore no helmet His head was bowed in prayer His face was seamed with sorrow But a trace of hope was there. Our ranks were hushed and silent And diminished by our loss At our feet, the rows of crosses Told how much the battle cost. Rows of neat white crosses And Stars of David too Marked the gravesites of our brothers Whose fighting days were through. Friends of mine were lying there Ski and Ace and Slim Bo and Jack, Bill and Joe Dusty, Tex and Jim. Each had his simple marker But the closest one to me Was a plain, white wooden headboard Marked "Unknown USMC." In this final camp of comrades It was somehow strange and odd That a man should lie among them Known only to his God. Who can he be, I wondered Was he white, or black or red? This man who shares a resting place With our loved and honored dead. He cannot be a stranger But a friend whose lonely track Has brought him here among us I think I'll call him "Mac." "Mac" is a name we've often used And it's been used on me It's better than the epitaph "Unknown USMC." So many times I've heard it In the blackness of the night Through the swirling mist of combat With the battle at it's height. "Hey Mac" a voice would call We could use some help out here I've got a man that's wounded Can you help him to the rear? "Hey Mac" I'm really burning up The sun's so blazing hot Can you spare a drop of water?" "Gee thanks Mac, thanks a lot." The day when I was wounded Hurt and lying in the snow A cigarette was offered me By a man I didn't know. He quickly stopped the bleeding And rolled me on my back Grinned and gripped his rifle And said "Take it easy Mac." A simple word, a simple name But, still it proves to me That no man ever really is "Unknown USMC." The Chaplains prayer is finished Our colors gently dip The rifle squad is ready The bugler wets his lip. With blurry eyes and saddened heart I heard the rifles crack Taps floated softly in the air And I said goodbye to "Mac." SEMPER FIDELIS Author Unknown
Our ranks were hushed and silent And diminished by our loss At our feet, the rows of crosses Told how much the battle cost.
Rows of neat white crosses And Stars of David too Marked the gravesites of our brothers Whose fighting days were through.
Friends of mine were lying there Ski and Ace and Slim Bo and Jack, Bill and Joe Dusty, Tex and Jim.
Each had his simple marker But the closest one to me Was a plain, white wooden headboard Marked "Unknown USMC."
In this final camp of comrades It was somehow strange and odd That a man should lie among them Known only to his God.
Who can he be, I wondered Was he white, or black or red? This man who shares a resting place With our loved and honored dead.
He cannot be a stranger But a friend whose lonely track Has brought him here among us I think I'll call him "Mac."
"Mac" is a name we've often used And it's been used on me It's better than the epitaph "Unknown USMC."
So many times I've heard it In the blackness of the night Through the swirling mist of combat With the battle at it's height.
"Hey Mac" a voice would call We could use some help out here I've got a man that's wounded Can you help him to the rear?
"Hey Mac" I'm really burning up The sun's so blazing hot Can you spare a drop of water?" "Gee thanks Mac, thanks a lot."
The day when I was wounded Hurt and lying in the snow A cigarette was offered me By a man I didn't know.
He quickly stopped the bleeding And rolled me on my back Grinned and gripped his rifle And said "Take it easy Mac."
A simple word, a simple name But, still it proves to me That no man ever really is "Unknown USMC."
The Chaplains prayer is finished Our colors gently dip The rifle squad is ready The bugler wets his lip.
With blurry eyes and saddened heart I heard the rifles crack Taps floated softly in the air And I said goodbye to "Mac."
I believe Barbara 'hit the nail on the head' when she wrote this poem.
FREEDOM
Freedom is thirteen stripes and fifty stars A uniform decorated with ribbons and bars An Iowa farm with its fields of corn Church bells ringing on a Sunday morn Freedom is over head missiles, a battle group at sea For the price of Freedom has never been free It's Marines and Soldiers hunkered in a fox hole A nation banned together in a common goal Freedom is living and working side by side To dare to hope and opportunities tried People coming to the aid of a stranger Putting their own lives in the path of danger Freedom is apple pie and the girl next door A small town with a mom and pop store It's baseball, reunions, it's the forth of July A lump in our throats as the flag passes by Freedom is the compassion that we have for our own Standing shoulder to shoulder when disaster hits home Our symbol the Eagle, so let Freedom soar It's principles and standards, Americans died for.
Freedom is over head missiles, a battle group at sea For the price of Freedom has never been free It's Marines and Soldiers hunkered in a fox hole A nation banned together in a common goal
Freedom is living and working side by side To dare to hope and opportunities tried People coming to the aid of a stranger Putting their own lives in the path of danger
Freedom is apple pie and the girl next door A small town with a mom and pop store It's baseball, reunions, it's the forth of July A lump in our throats as the flag passes by
Freedom is the compassion that we have for our own Standing shoulder to shoulder when disaster hits home Our symbol the Eagle, so let Freedom soar It's principles and standards, Americans died for.
"Written by: Barbara Cox"
"I AM YOUR FLAG"
I am the silent sentinel of Freedom. I am the emblem of the greatest sovereign nation on earth. I am the inspiration for which American Patriots gave their lives and fortunes. I have led your sons into battle from Valley Forge to the bloody swamps of Viet Nam. I walk in silence with each of your Honored Dead, to their final resting place beneath the silent White Crosses, row upon row. I have flown through Peace and War, Strife and Prosperity, and amidst it all I have been respected. My Red Stripes. . .symbolize the blood spilled in defense of this glorious nation. My White Stripes . . . signify the burning tears shed by Americans wholost their sons. My Blue Field. . .is indicative of God's heaven under which I fly. My Stars . . . clustered together, unify 50 States as one, for God and Country. "Old Glory" is my nickname, and proudly I wave on high. Honor me, respect me, defend me with your lives and your fortunes. Never let my enemies tear me down from my lofty position, lest I never return. Keep alight the fires of patriotism, strive earnestly for the spirit of democracy. Worship Eternal God and keep His commandments, and I shall remain the bulwark of peace and freedom for all mankind. I am your Flag.
Compliments of Colonel Daniel K. Cedusky, USAR, Retired
Subject: Kansas Prayer PRAYER FROM THE KANSAS SENATE LEGISLATURE November 30, 1998 This prayer was actually spoken before the Kansas State Legislature. When minister Joe Wright was asked to open the new session of the Kansas Senate, everyone was expecting the usual generalities, but what they heard instead was a stirring prayer, passionately calling our country to repentance and righteousness. The response was immediate. A number of legislators walked out during the prayer in protest. In six short weeks, the Central Christian Church had logged more than 5,000 phone calls with only a few of those calls responding negatively. The church is now receiving international requests for copies of the prayer from India, Africa and Korea. Commentator PAUL HARVEY aired the prayer on The Rest of the Story on the radio and received a larger response to this program than any other he has ever aired!!!
THE PRAYER Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask Your forgiveness and to seek Your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, "Woe on those who call evil good, "but that's exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values. We confess that We have ridiculed the absolute truth of Your Word and called it pluralism. We have worshipped other gods and called it multiculturalism. We have endorsed perversion and called it an alternative lifestyle. We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery. We have neglected the needy and called it self-preservation. We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare. We have killed our unborn children and called it a choice. We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable. We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem. We have abused power and called it political savvy. We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition. We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression. We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment. Search us, O God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and set us free. Guide and bless these men and women who have been sent to direct us to the center of Your will. I ask it in the name of Your Son, the living Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask Your forgiveness and to seek Your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, "Woe on those who call evil good, "but that's exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values. We confess that We have ridiculed the absolute truth of Your Word and called it pluralism. We have worshipped other gods and called it multiculturalism. We have endorsed perversion and called it an alternative lifestyle. We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery. We have neglected the needy and called it self-preservation. We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare. We have killed our unborn children and called it a choice. We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable. We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem. We have abused power and called it political savvy. We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition. We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression. We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment. Search us, O God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and set us free. Guide and bless these men and women who have been sent to direct us to the center of Your will. I ask it in the name of Your Son, the living Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
With the Lord's help, may this prayer sweep our nation andwholeheartedly become our desire so that we again can be called a Christiannation that fears the Lord!
BAND OF BROTHERS
By Frank G. Gross In dedication to the U.S.M.C. "Korea" 1950
When the Eagle makes a stand upon a distant land The spirit of the Corps in his eye He lays his anchor down upon the troubled ground and the world knows the words Semper Fi. From the sound of different drummers in the valley of the thunder and a hundred marching men passing by, Each man became a brother depending on each other and the world knows the words Semper Fi His mighty wings will span with the anchor in his hand as the mountains catch his shadow flying by and on this frozen land the golden eagle stands and the world knows the words Semper Fi From the sound of different drummers in the valley of the thunder and a hundred marching men passing by, Each man became a brother depending on each other and the world knows the words Semper Fi
From the sound of different drummers in the valley of the thunder and a hundred marching men passing by, Each man became a brother depending on each other and the world knows the words Semper Fi
His mighty wings will span with the anchor in his hand as the mountains catch his shadow flying by and on this frozen land the golden eagle stands and the world knows the words Semper Fi
BROTHERS BY BOB HAMMOND 7th div A bat 57th FA Bn 1st gun section..US ARMY
SOLDIER: Did I ever call you jarhead I'm pretty sure I did But I really didn't mean it I was just a mouthy kid MARINE: Did I ever call you dogface It's a term I used to use When I'd run across a soldier I would try to light his fuse SOLDIER: I know marines have a lot of pride Their training does excel In combat they're the first to fight They're sent straight into hell MARINE: But GI's often have to face The fear that we all know And combat still is combat be you first or last to go SOLDIER: In truth my friend I have respect for all Marines in Corps' They helped us when we needed help at the Chosin Reservoir MARINE: I must confess I know GI's whose courage all could see They fought like hell and gave their all for guys like you and me SOLDIER: Did I ever call you brother Well you're a brother mine And I'll stand by you and toast your health in whiskey beer or wine MARINE: Did I ever call you brother A brother pal..thats you A Chosin brother just like me We're part of the Chosin Few
SOLDIER: I know marines have a lot of pride Their training does excel In combat they're the first to fight They're sent straight into hell
MARINE: But GI's often have to face The fear that we all know And combat still is combat be you first or last to go
SOLDIER: In truth my friend I have respect for all Marines in Corps' They helped us when we needed help at the Chosin Reservoir
MARINE: I must confess I know GI's whose courage all could see They fought like hell and gave their all for guys like you and me
SOLDIER: Did I ever call you brother Well you're a brother mine And I'll stand by you and toast your health in whiskey beer or wine
MARINE: Did I ever call you brother A brother pal..thats you A Chosin brother just like me We're part of the Chosin Few
LEATHERNECKS Written by: H.I. Phillips
From the Halls of Montezuma, To the crimson stained Hamhung; Through the frozen, snow packed mountains, That's the new way it is sung. Now a new and greater glory, Rises o'er an epic scene; As the heart leaps to the statement, Look, That youngster's a Marine. The Golgotha of stark winter, Death along an icy way; Thorns and cross at every turning, Through the bitter night and day. Agony beyond all knowing, Marked by this one word aglow; "Courage" boldly, bravely written, In red letters in the snow. Of no brief and gallant hour, This word on white blanket speaks; But of guts and faith and fiber, Through two freezing howling weeks. In sub-zero and in blizzards, And from torture never free; Hark! I hear the hoarse "We made it"; As they stumble to the sea. This, the everlasting promise, Kept along each bloody yard; "No one leaves behind the wounded", Cause there ain't no fight that hard. What a vivid, gallant epic, Down each bleak Korean gorge; In the spirit and the measure, Long enshrined at Valley Forge. Take your hat off Mr. Homefront, Stand in silence with bowed head; For you'll never know the valor, Of these heroes and their dead. Say a prayer for consecration, Of your spirit through and through; Should the test the kids met gamely, Come in some degree to you.
Now a new and greater glory, Rises o'er an epic scene; As the heart leaps to the statement, Look, That youngster's a Marine. The Golgotha of stark winter, Death along an icy way; Thorns and cross at every turning, Through the bitter night and day.
Agony beyond all knowing, Marked by this one word aglow; "Courage" boldly, bravely written, In red letters in the snow.
Of no brief and gallant hour, This word on white blanket speaks; But of guts and faith and fiber, Through two freezing howling weeks.
In sub-zero and in blizzards, And from torture never free; Hark! I hear the hoarse "We made it"; As they stumble to the sea. This, the everlasting promise, Kept along each bloody yard; "No one leaves behind the wounded", Cause there ain't no fight that hard.
What a vivid, gallant epic, Down each bleak Korean gorge; In the spirit and the measure, Long enshrined at Valley Forge. Take your hat off Mr. Homefront, Stand in silence with bowed head; For you'll never know the valor, Of these heroes and their dead.
Say a prayer for consecration, Of your spirit through and through; Should the test the kids met gamely, Come in some degree to you.
THE YOUNG MARINE
By: Frank G. Gross
The road was long and freezing In this cold and frosty scene In the Korean War, at the Reservoir For this weary tired Marine As his frozen feet would shuffle And his purple toes were tapped His naked face and burning skin Was wrinkled, cracked and chapped The stiffness of his moustache His painful face would show As the nasal drip had made a grip From the chilling winds and snow In the fear it could get colder When the sun would choose to rest He clinched his arms together In the attempt to warm his chest The stinging cold of numbness As freezing sweat would rub When changed to ice within his boots And on his hands beneath each glove A vapor cloud of warmness From his puff of body breath Help to give resistance Of freezing half to death The tremor of the snow and frost A chilling winter scene Fell upon his cover Of his helmet brown and green Conditions that turned to frostbite A plague to soon unfold As the blizzard snow And enemy foe had fortified their hold A typhoon of freezing fury Of snow upon his back As the lack of allowance Was throwing off balance Of aggression and blizzard attack The infested Korean mountains With foe so sly and coy The burp guns crack With the purpose to destroy From the oriental proverb The Chinese troops all know When the young Marine Spoke their words, "Gung Ho" For the term means work together With spirit and with pride As the Army and ally nations Were fighting by his side For this Marine Corps Band of Brothers Speak not of retreat As they walk into the jaws of death And carry out the teeth
As his frozen feet would shuffle And his purple toes were tapped His naked face and burning skin Was wrinkled, cracked and chapped
The stiffness of his moustache His painful face would show As the nasal drip had made a grip From the chilling winds and snow
In the fear it could get colder When the sun would choose to rest He clinched his arms together In the attempt to warm his chest The stinging cold of numbness As freezing sweat would rub When changed to ice within his boots And on his hands beneath each glove
A vapor cloud of warmness From his puff of body breath Help to give resistance Of freezing half to death
The tremor of the snow and frost A chilling winter scene Fell upon his cover Of his helmet brown and green
Conditions that turned to frostbite A plague to soon unfold As the blizzard snow And enemy foe had fortified their hold
A typhoon of freezing fury Of snow upon his back As the lack of allowance Was throwing off balance Of aggression and blizzard attack
The infested Korean mountains With foe so sly and coy The burp guns crack With the purpose to destroy
From the oriental proverb The Chinese troops all know When the young Marine Spoke their words, "Gung Ho"
For the term means work together With spirit and with pride As the Army and ally nations Were fighting by his side
For this Marine Corps Band of Brothers Speak not of retreat As they walk into the jaws of death And carry out the teeth
banner by Jules... if you use it please link to: https://www.angelfire.com/ar/jule2/index.html
The Paradox of our Time By: George Carlin The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less. We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness. We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor. We've conquered outer space, but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've split the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication. These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships. These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition. These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw-away morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stockroom; a time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.
The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less. We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness. We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor. We've conquered outer space, but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've split the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication. These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships. These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition. These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw-away morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stockroom; a time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.
We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.
We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.
We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.
We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.
We've conquered outer space, but not inner space.
We've done larger things, but not better things.
We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.
We've split the atom, but not our prejudice.
We write more, but learn less.
We plan more, but accomplish less.
We've learned to rush, but not to wait.
We build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication.
These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships.
These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.
These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.
These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw-away morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer to quiet, to kill.
It is a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stockroom; a time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.
Those left behind By Jimmie JoeFishhook Junction, Alaska
Those left behind whose tears will fall on new formed mounds of clay. They accept the carefully folded flags on their loved ones funeral day. They'll accept the flag with tear stained hands and it never will be said, the coming weeks and months and years, the pain, the loss won't leave their head. The degree of pain will vary and get less with passing years. The pain will always be there, "inside those hidden tears." Those left behind now pay the price of the freedoms we retain. Those left behind are the only ones, for us a lifetime carry pain. An exception is the combat Warrior who survived the bloody land. I've covered that in other rhymes and the caring understand.
They'll accept the flag with tear stained hands and it never will be said, the coming weeks and months and years, the pain, the loss won't leave their head.
The degree of pain will vary and get less with passing years. The pain will always be there, "inside those hidden tears." Those left behind now pay the price of the freedoms we retain. Those left behind are the only ones, for us a lifetime carry pain.
An exception is the combat Warrior who survived the bloody land. I've covered that in other rhymes and the caring understand.
ON A HILL IN KOREA (Honoring A Brave Marine)
By: LEONARD R. "SHIFTY" SHIFFLETTE Captain, U. S. Marine Corps (Retired) 3 March 1998
Let me tell you a story of a battle for a hill in Korea in ‘51, Many Marines were charging up, they were some mother’s sons. The skipper kept encouraging them on and they just wouldn’t quit, The firefight was raging on and some of the warriors were hit. One Marine yelled out I’m hurt and was lying there on the ground, This young warrior was badly wounded when he was finally found. The Corpsman that was tending him said his wounds were extreme, Then he sent for stretcher-bearers to come to assist this young Marine. He didn’t give them a hard time just holding on and lying very still, They all knew it wasn’t going to be easy carrying him down that hill. Then they passed the skipper on their way and said “Just listen to him,” He couldn’t believe his ears he was singing the Marine Corps Hymn. Some people might believe that his behavior was somewhat bazaar, Possibly you know the history of the Corps and their victories from afar. There were many firefights won and some might be considered a loss, The men of the Corps will measure up and show you they’re the boss. If you could only know these brave men and if you would really dare, Stand up for them and respect their code; let them know you really care. This war has come and gone and our country is a better place to live, When you see Old Glory flying high a little gratitude you could give.
One Marine yelled out I’m hurt and was lying there on the ground, This young warrior was badly wounded when he was finally found. The Corpsman that was tending him said his wounds were extreme, Then he sent for stretcher-bearers to come to assist this young Marine.
He didn’t give them a hard time just holding on and lying very still, They all knew it wasn’t going to be easy carrying him down that hill. Then they passed the skipper on their way and said “Just listen to him,” He couldn’t believe his ears he was singing the Marine Corps Hymn.
Some people might believe that his behavior was somewhat bazaar, Possibly you know the history of the Corps and their victories from afar. There were many firefights won and some might be considered a loss, The men of the Corps will measure up and show you they’re the boss.
If you could only know these brave men and if you would really dare, Stand up for them and respect their code; let them know you really care. This war has come and gone and our country is a better place to live, When you see Old Glory flying high a little gratitude you could give.
1st BATTALION, 7TH MARINES
By: LEONARD R. "SHIFTY" SHIFFLETTE Captain, U. S. Marine Corps (Retired) 9 March 1998
In July ’51, the 1st Marine Division was given orders to be in reserve, It was time to rest and regroup which was something they did deserve. These warriors had fought many battles and on the front line so long, Time to get some replacements and much needed training to be done. The area was called Inge Valley, a place they will remember well, A tent camp was set up there and the hot chow was really swell. You see they had only "Charlie" rations, eating them for many days, Training, eating, and sleeping soundly knowing the enemy was far away. With new men joining the squads and platoons being brought up to snuff, Showers were in great demand and haircuts for those who looked rough. They had the time to wash their clothes and catch up on all their chores, Things were really shaping up for these warriors of the U. S. Marine Corps. Many days now had passed; the troops were ready and when they were told, There was no surprise to learn their next mission was to be the Punch Bowl. It was in mid September and they knew the next battle wouldn’t be a spree, 1st Battalion, 7th Marines were ready and their next objective was hill 673 When the battle was over everyone knew that their ranks were very thin, It was decided that they be relieved and moved back to a reserve area again. The warriors came down from the hill and moved along at a very fast pace, Each one wondering what they would find at their next assigned home base. Now that the fighting had slowed down and winter beginning to settle in, Bunkers needed to be fortified to protect them from a brutal north wind. It was very cold, the snow was deep and wasn’t much more they could do, So they spent another Christmas away from home and just waiting for 1952.
The area was called Inge Valley, a place they will remember well, A tent camp was set up there and the hot chow was really swell. You see they had only "Charlie" rations, eating them for many days, Training, eating, and sleeping soundly knowing the enemy was far away.
With new men joining the squads and platoons being brought up to snuff, Showers were in great demand and haircuts for those who looked rough. They had the time to wash their clothes and catch up on all their chores, Things were really shaping up for these warriors of the U. S. Marine Corps.
Many days now had passed; the troops were ready and when they were told, There was no surprise to learn their next mission was to be the Punch Bowl. It was in mid September and they knew the next battle wouldn’t be a spree, 1st Battalion, 7th Marines were ready and their next objective was hill 673
When the battle was over everyone knew that their ranks were very thin, It was decided that they be relieved and moved back to a reserve area again. The warriors came down from the hill and moved along at a very fast pace, Each one wondering what they would find at their next assigned home base.
Now that the fighting had slowed down and winter beginning to settle in, Bunkers needed to be fortified to protect them from a brutal north wind. It was very cold, the snow was deep and wasn’t much more they could do, So they spent another Christmas away from home and just waiting for 1952.
A Soldier and His Wife
A soldier by day, he stands the watch alone. A man by night, dreaming of his wife at home. At home she waits, as hours give way to days. Sometimes she cries, as alone in the night she prays. He thinks a lot of freedom, that's why he joined the Corps. He wanted to be all he could be, and then a little more. She married the man she loves, committed to him for life. Knowing it wouldn't be easy, being a soldier's wife. The days in the field were long, the nights were longer still. But he was born to serve, duty is his will. Steadfast by his side, though thousands of miles away. Unconditional support, she gave him each day. He loved her with a passion, for her he would gladly die. He'd sell his soul in a moment, just to look inside her eyes. She lived her life for him, each and every day. Waiting for his return, her soldier far away. [Author Unknown]
At home she waits, as hours give way to days. Sometimes she cries, as alone in the night she prays.
He thinks a lot of freedom, that's why he joined the Corps. He wanted to be all he could be, and then a little more.
She married the man she loves, committed to him for life. Knowing it wouldn't be easy, being a soldier's wife.
The days in the field were long, the nights were longer still. But he was born to serve, duty is his will.
Steadfast by his side, though thousands of miles away. Unconditional support, she gave him each day.
He loved her with a passion, for her he would gladly die. He'd sell his soul in a moment, just to look inside her eyes.
She lived her life for him, each and every day. Waiting for his return, her soldier far away.
[Author Unknown]
FINAL ROLL CALL By: Carroll R. Michaud
Did you hear the sad news today? Another veteran warrior has passed away. Called by the Supreme Commander over all. Today he has made his final roll call. Come fellow vets; let us reverently bow and pray For our valiant comrade, who has fallen this day. We'll drape his casket with a banner of beautiful hues, Those glorious American colors: red, white and blue. That star spangled banner he gallantly fought to defend, Unyielding and undaunted, he fought to win. He fought bravely and he passed the battle test. Now the Supreme Commander grants him, "eternal rest". With dignity and honor, we'll commit his body to the ground, The bugler will sound "Taps" and we'll fire the volley rounds. The final military honors we'll render somberly and ever so sadly; "Old Glory" we'll solemnly precisely fold and reverently give to his family. Each Memorial Day we will recall our fallen comrade names, And attest that their selfless sacrifices were not in vain; For this lasting legacy they gave to all generations; "It's honorable to respect our flag and to defend our great nation." So close ranks aging warriors, for our ranks are thinning. We must keep on fighting and keep on winning. With pride and honor we'll march and stand tall, And we'll proudly - proudly - salute "Old Glory" 'til we too make our final roll call.
Gardens of Stone
Brave men -- fallen friends Alert as children show; Flowers fresh from little hands Yet far too young to know. A time when men answered a call And tears fell like rain; Then just as Peace began anew The World cried out again. Off again to freedom fight But it was just too high a cost; Lovers denied. Mothers cried. So many sons were lost. Time tries to fade the memories While they still stand alone; Remembered by most, one day a year Then lost in gardens of stone. [Author Unknown]
A time when men answered a call And tears fell like rain; Then just as Peace began anew The World cried out again.
Off again to freedom fight But it was just too high a cost; Lovers denied. Mothers cried. So many sons were lost. Time tries to fade the memories While they still stand alone; Remembered by most, one day a year Then lost in gardens of stone.
THE OLD VET [ Author Unknown ] ( A short story submitted by: Janice Brazeau ) A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about Grandfather," said the son. "I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor." So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence. One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled. Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home atmosphere for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day the building blocks are being laid for the child's future. LET'S BE WISE BUILDERS.
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about Grandfather," said the son. "I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor." So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence. One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled. Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home atmosphere for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day the building blocks are being laid for the child's future. LET'S BE WISE BUILDERS.
What is a Vet?
He is a 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 bar room loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, Whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel. She or he is the nurse who fought against futility who 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 back. 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 anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deeps. He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket, palsied now and aggravatingly slow, who helped to 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 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. 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. [ Author Unknown ]
He is the bar room loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, Whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She or he is the nurse who fought against futility who 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 back.
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 anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deeps.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket, palsied now and aggravatingly slow, who helped to 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 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.
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.
[ Author Unknown ]
THE DEATH OF 'COMMON SENSE' Submitted by: Howard Mason
Today I am mourning the passing of an old friend by the name of Common Sense. Common Sense, AKA C.S., lived a long life but died from heart failure at the brink of the millennium. No one really knows how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He selflessly devoted his life to service in schools, hospitals, homes, factories and offices, helping folks get jobs done without fanfare and foolishness. For decades, petty rules, silly laws and frivolous lawsuits held no power over C.S. He was credited with cultivating such valued lessons as to know when to come in out of the rain, the early bird gets the worm, and life isn't always fair. C.S. lived by sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable teaching and parenting strategies (the adult is in charge, not the kid).A veteran of the Industrial Revolution, the Great Depression, and the Technological Revolution, C.S. survived cultural and educational trends including feminism, body piercing, whole language and "new" math. But his health declined when he became infected with the "If-It-Only-Helps-One-Person-It's-Worth-It" virus. In recent decades his waning strength proved no match for the ravages of overbearing federal regulations. He watched in pain as good people became ruled by self-seeking lawyers and enlightened auditors. His health rapidly deteriorated as schools mindlessly implemented zero tolerance policies. Reports of 6 year old boys charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate, a teen suspended for taking a swig of mouthwash after lunch, and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student. Finally, C.S. lost his will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, criminals received better treatment than victims, and federal judges stuck their noses in everything from Boy Scouts to professional sports. As the end neared, C.S. drifted in and out of logic but was kept informed of developments regarding questionable regulations for asbestos, low flow toilets, "smart" guns and mandatory air bags.Finally, when told that the homeowners association restricted exterior furniture only to that which enhanced property values, he breathed his last breath. C.S. was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his Son, Reason. He is survived by three step-brothers, Rights, Tolerance, and Whiner. Few attended his funeral, because so few realized he was gone. Author Unknown
Common Sense, AKA C.S., lived a long life but died from heart failure at the brink of the millennium. No one really knows how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He selflessly devoted his life to service in schools, hospitals, homes, factories and offices, helping folks get jobs done without fanfare and foolishness. For decades, petty rules, silly laws and frivolous lawsuits held no power over C.S. He was credited with cultivating such valued lessons as to know when to come in out of the rain, the early bird gets the worm, and life isn't always fair. C.S. lived by sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable teaching and parenting strategies (the adult is in charge, not the kid).A veteran of the Industrial Revolution, the Great Depression, and the Technological Revolution, C.S. survived cultural and educational trends including feminism, body piercing, whole language and "new" math. But his health declined when he became infected with the "If-It-Only-Helps-One-Person-It's-Worth-It" virus. In recent decades his waning strength proved no match for the ravages of overbearing federal regulations. He watched in pain as good people became ruled by self-seeking lawyers and enlightened auditors. His health rapidly deteriorated as schools mindlessly implemented zero tolerance policies. Reports of 6 year old boys charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate, a teen suspended for taking a swig of mouthwash after lunch, and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student. Finally, C.S. lost his will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, criminals received better treatment than victims, and federal judges stuck their noses in everything from Boy Scouts to professional sports. As the end neared, C.S. drifted in and out of logic but was kept informed of developments regarding questionable regulations for asbestos, low flow toilets, "smart" guns and mandatory air bags.Finally, when told that the homeowners association restricted exterior furniture only to that which enhanced property values, he breathed his last breath.
C.S. was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his Son, Reason. He is survived by three step-brothers, Rights, Tolerance, and Whiner. Few attended his funeral, because so few realized he was gone. Author Unknown
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