RENDEZVOUS WITH DESTINY!

101ST AIRBORNE DIVISION

SCREAMING EAGLES

 

AIRBORNE

ALL THE WAY!



This page is dedicated to all PARATROOPERS


"All who have been, are, or ever will be"

A SOLDIER'S WILL

A poem by Peter S. Griffin

~Through Their Deaths Freedom Is Born Anew~

"Unto you I bequeath..."

Death has found me on the battlefields of freedom,
Grieve not, for liberty's light shines as a beacon....
I leave to you, the things I held most dear,
Sacred, precious gifts of the highest tier....

Unto you, I bequeath, Old Glory, Lady Liberty,
The home of the brave, the land of the free....
The Bill of Rights, our Constitution,
Our halls of justice, our educational institutions....

I give to you, one nation, under God,
The many freedoms, on which, He's blessed our sod....
The right to worship, vote, love, work and play,
Not the least, of which, the things you have to say....

But most of all, I leave to you, my legacy,
For without sacrifice, there is no victory....
A SOLDIER'S WILL, preserves freedoms continuity,
A SOLDIER'S WILL, fulfills our " Rendezvous With Destiny"....

~Thank You GI Sleep In Peace~

"Freedom is not free!"

©By Peter S. Griffin

"Freedom is not free..."
Without your support there can be no victory,
Do not let our warriors die in vain...
For then, their loved ones succumb from the sorrow and the pain,
And those who survived the horrendous fight...
Be forever haunted, both day and night!
Dare not turn our sacrifices and hard won liberties,
Into hellish depravity and mockery...
Rather, embrace them in holy esteem,
Celebrate them quietly, in blessed dignity...
And never forget, "Freedom is not free!"

SFC JAMES G. MOFFITT

10 January 1938 - 22 June 2006

ONE OF THE BOYS

By Grif

ONE OF THE BOYS, have left our ranks,
One of the troopers, who covered our flanks....
A soldier true, through and through,
James loved, the red, white and blue....

He loved America, with all his heart,
He loved his buddies, never to part....
His time has come, we will miss him so,
Hearts are broken, spirits are low....

He answered the call, he gave his all,
He saw us through, he paid his dues....
A true friend, rarer than a unicorn,
A soldier who, weathered the storms....

He was there, for all of us,
He fought the battles, fair and just....
By our side, our friend and guide,
The gates of heaven, are open wide....

No better soldier, ever wore the patch,
The "Screaming Eagle", hard to match....
James passed the test, one of the best,
Silver wings, upon his chest....

Battle after battle, he fought his way,
Side by side, he kept the stride....
Fighting hard, to turn the tide,
Spreading freedom, far and wide....

He was with us, ONE OF THE BOYS,
When the going got tough, James had the right stuff....
A soldier, on which, you could always depend,
A warrior, a brother, and a true friend....

He never wore a frown, he never let us down,
Encouraging us all, always walking tall....
Proud, he was, and rightfully so,
Paving the way, he was the first to shout “GO!”

After the war, he was never far away,
He was always there, to brighten all our days....
Few men have ever given, quite as much as he,
Serving God and country, in quiet dignity....

It is very hard to stand here,
Fighting back the tears,
My mind is really racing,
Remembering all the years....

Quite hard, my friends, to put into words,
To salute a great soldier, a friend, such as he....
His love will last eternally,
His spirit will always, be with me....

I will never forget, what SFC James G. Moffitt meant to me,
His friendship, can't be kept in a diary....
Perhaps it is, enough to say,
ONE OF THE BOYS, still leads the way!

Monument - Airborne Walk - Ft. Benning, Georgia

Jump design by the late, beloved Paratrooper, Billy Carrington, past Executive Secretary of the 101st Airborne Division Assoc. Sleep in peace, dear Airborne brother, 'till reveille sounds again.

Bill Carrington pictured with his lovely wife, Linda.

PARATROOPER HEAVEN

(Author Unknown)

I hope there's a drop zone, way up in the sky,
Where old PARATROOPERS can go, when it's time to say "goodbye"...
A place where a guy could drink a cold beer,
For a friend and a comrade whose memory held dear...

A place where no leg or blackshoe could tread,
Nor a Pentagon type would e're be caught dead!
Just a quaint little o'club, for a drink and good smoke,
Where they like to sing aloud, and tell a good joke...

The kind of place, where a lady can go,
And feel safe and protected by the soldiers she knows...
There must be a place for old PARATROOPERS to go,
When their eyes get too weary, and their drinks get too low...

Where the whiskey is old and the women are young,
And songs 'bout jumping, fighting and dying are sung...
Where you'd see all the troopers, you'd served with before,
And they'd call out your name, as you came thru the door...

Photo by Maxine Gibson

They would pour you a drink, for your thirst, oh so bad,
And declare to all others, "This troopers' a fine lad!"
And then thru the haze, spot a brother grunt,
Not seen in years, since by your side, he did jump!

He'd nod his old head and grin ear to ear,
"Welcome home trooper, I'm pleased that you're here!
For this is the place where PARATROOPERS come,
When the battles are over, and the wars have been won...

They've come here at last, to be safe and afar,
From the government clerk and the management czar...
The politicians and lawyers, the feds and the noise,
Where all the hours are happy, amongst good old boys!

You can relax with a tall, cool one,
Take your well-deserved rest...
For you made it to AIRBORNE Heaven,
PARATROOPER, you've passed your last test..!"

THE INFANTRYMAN

(author unknown)

The average age of the Infantryman is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or jazz or swing and 155mm Howitzers. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low. He has learned to use his hands like weapons and his weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life -- or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime. He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed. Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy.
He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years. He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

He is an INFANTRYMAN!

IN REMEMBRANCE

The Flower Images courtesy of the Santalady

FORGET-ME-NOT

A poem by Peter S. Griffin

Death found us, on the battlefields of freedom,
Duty, Honor, Country, the noblest of reasons....
Fallen Screaming Eagles, we paid the toll,
Our sacrifices, etched, forever, on our souls....

Engaging battle, from the sky,
Looking death, straight in the eye....
We feared no enemy, on this earth,
On righteousness, Fallen Screaming Eagles perch....

Now we lay silent, in fields of green,
Our children, in FREEDOM, frolic in our dreams....
Eternal peace, granted, by a loving God,
Our highest decoration, the FORGET-ME-NOT, to cover our sod....

MEMORIAL DAY

By Ed VanVickle

USA Med Ret Sgt E5

I had a Visitor today I have sat here for so long alone.

The caretakers have all come and gone I saw him approach and wondered why he had come. Then I noticed the Flag had fallen and was on the ground I was to weary and too old to be able to pick it up and set it right.

He looked at me as he picked up the Flag and set it right. He looked at me with a smile as he read the words above my door. I noticed immediately that he was a Paratrooper but not from my War. He snapped to Attention as he stared at the Flag on my Door a crisp Salute like the ones I had given before. He was only able to stay a moment, as I am sure there were others he came to see He bent down and cleaned up debris from around the door so that the writing could be seen. He said a silent and solemn prayer. Then he gave one last crisp salute and headed on his way. I was very glad to have had a visitor today. Not many come to see me, not many appear to care about me anymore. But one lone visitor gave me the hope that our country still remembers the price we paid For the Freedoms they endure. Later on I heard a Great thunder and then soon yet another and then 19 more I realized finally that this must be Memorial Day. I was remembered and cared for on this lonely day. By a soldier who had not forgotten. Though I knew him not, nor he knew me he paid his respects on this day I had a Visitor today.

THE FINAL INSPECTION

(Author Unknown)

The paratrooper stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass…
He hoped his jump boots were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass…

"Step forward now, trooper,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"

The trooper squared his shoulders,
Said, "No, Lord, I guess I ain't…
For, as you know, a paratrooper,
Can't always be a saint...

I've had to work most Sundays,
To fight my country’s wars,
Many months away from family,
Tough, those hardship tours…

At times my talk was mighty tough,
And sometimes I've been pretty rough…
Because, “FREEDOM IS NOT FREE,”
The cost so very high, defending God given liberty…

But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
I’ve worked many long, arduous hours,
Pushed on with little sleep…

I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear…
For all my fallen brothers,
I’ve shed a million tears…

Some say I don't deserve a place,
Among the others here…
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears…

If only you've a place for me, Lord,
It needn't be so grand…
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand”…

There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the Saints and Angels trod…
As the paratrooper waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God…

"Step forward now, my warrior,
To Me, you’ve always been faithful, borne your burdens well…
There is a mansion reserved for you here, paratrooper,
For so gallantly, you served your time in Hell."

The following was sent in by Cher Airwyke, THANK YOU! Dear Lady.

THE 23RD PSALM

The Lord is my Shepherd
That's Relationship!

I shall not want
That's Supply!

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures
That's Rest!

He leadeth me beside the still waters
That's Refreshment!

He restoreth my soul
That's Healing!

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
That's Guidance!

For His name sake
That's Purpose!

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
That's Testing!

I will fear no evil
That's Protection!

For Thou art with me
That's Faithfulness!

Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me
That's Discipline!

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies
That's Hope!

Thou annointest my head with oil
That's Consecration!

My cup runneth over
That's Abundance!

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
That's Blessing!

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
That's Security!

Forever
That's Eternity!

You can now order "When You Hear The Bugle Call" from Amazon.com by clicking the above cover.

Please read THOUGHTS, MEMORIES AND TEARS customer reviews at Amazon.Com. Now might be a good time to place your order, thanks!

   Or Select a Site