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H. B. WORLD - SPAN: A Service of "The Weekly Roomer"

WAR STORY VI: Gary Owen...

It was late ' 67 and I was part of E 8 3, an airborne infantry battalion undergoing training at Fort Gordon, Georgia. The physical training was excellent and hard. One hour of PT in the morning and followed by a five mile run. The chow was plentiful and good and like the man said, eat as much as you wanted but make sure that your plate was clean. At the end of the training day, another hour of PT and unless we had a field problem, were dismissed. I started AIT weighing 120 pounds and at the end of eight weeks, weighed 145.
We were all volunteers and there was no secret where we were headed. In front of the CO's office was a huge placard in a glass case. There was a list of former graduates who had earned awards for heroism. Next to many of the names was an asterisk. I was curious as to what the asterisk denoted and at the bottom of the list found the notation, "Posthumously Awarded." A few weeks before graduation a ceremony was held honoring a past member of our training battalion who had received a high award (DSC perhaps). He had been grievously wounded, he lost his sight and one or two limbs. The entire battalion (some marched, others rode on mortar trucks) paraded before this sightless veteran. An Army band struck up the rollicking Irish tune, "Gary Owen." It was a stirring site and if there was music made to fight by, then "Gary Owen" was definitely appropriate for the occasion.
The song was the regimental ditty of George Custer's regiment, the 2/7th Cavalry. Years later I reflected on the irony of it. A parade for a blind man performed by many who would be killed during the meat grinder year of 1968. It does not get more ironic than that.

Garry Owen

Let Bacchus's sons be not dismayed
but join with me each jovial blade
come drink and sing and lend your aid
to help me with the chorus
For Gary Owen in Glory

_ By JD.

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October 11, 2002

"What lies at the end of this road is complete moral as well as political corruption. The war is a fateful turn. The day we set foot on Iraqi soil will mark the end of our old republican form of government, and the beginning of a long, slow descent into the bone-yard of empires.

"In 1952, Garet Garrett, a writer of great talent, published a little-noticed pamphlet that prophesized this moment as if he had seen it in a dream:

"'We have crossed the boundary that lies between Republic and Empire. If you ask when, the answer is that you cannot make a single stroke between day and night; the precise moment does not matter. There was no painted sign to say: "You are now entering Imperium." Yet it was a very old road and the voice of history was saying: "Whether you know it or not, the act of crossing may be irreversible." And now, not far ahead, is a sign that reads: "No U-turns."'" – Justin Raimondo

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