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Posted: 5/2/2001 8:53:04 PM EDT
one... or one that talks about a man who did something great for the country... author of it too would be nice.... Been lookin for some on Heston, but couldnt find any.......................
Link Posted: 5/2/2001 8:55:08 PM EDT
It is not about a hero but a gun. Don't be afraid on any man no matter what his size. Just call on me in your time of need and I will equalize. Or Daaaaaavyyyyyyyyy Daaaaaavyyyyyyyy Crockett King of the wild frontier...OK not that one.
Link Posted: 5/2/2001 8:58:14 PM EDT
DEDICATED TO: All Helicopter Pilots Who Wish They Were Somewhere Else. by Anonymous When you think of your friends who are talking of flying MACH 2 at the bar, And you look at the aircraft you're starting, it goes just as fast at your car. You think of nice tight formations and Tutors in red, white and blue, And sit there and shake as it's winding up and wonder what happened to you. How you used to talk about air fights and you loved to roll up-side down, And how you are sitting in some lonely field in a helicopter that's "Brown". So you grit your teeth and you bear it and dream of things that might have been, While the Grunt in the Scout Car beside you talks of moving the screen. In the evening you'll heat up your supper on an Arctic stove in your tent, And think of the bars and old 104's and wonder where they all went. You'll do your turn in the Ops Tent and go to sleep in the muck, And curse all the people who put you here and curse all your terrible luck. You're still half asleep in the morning at the five o'clock launch from the pad, And the coffee the cook had was lukewarm, and the breakfast was just as bad. You take off and look down behind you and no one is airborne but you, And nothing is moving in this early light and the sky is piercingly blue; And the snow on the hills is so sparkling and clean as you slowly climb up the side, You somehow start to forget all your woes and begin to enjoy the ride. You think of that day in Jamaica, when you landed your bird on the beach, The Arctic was great with bright Northern lights, you swore you could almost reach. You think of that night and the fire, the windstorm, lightning and rain, How you almost crashed at the rescue site, but you know you would do it again. Of the time that your brother was flying when you stopped to visit the farm, And although you felt a bit guilty, there wasn't really any harm. You think of the things you've accomplished and things that might have been, You weigh all the "might haves" against things you have done and all the places you've seen. You think of the guy in the spurs and the chute and the mask that is pinching his face, And you know that the rails are close to his sides and he barely has stretching space. And you thing of their boasts of high flight "near to God as man can go", As you land and stretch and slowly get out and quietly piss in the snow. Aviator
Link Posted: 5/2/2001 9:07:51 PM EDT
Originally Posted By Aviator: DEDICATED TO: All Helicopter Pilots Who Wish They Were Somewhere Else. by Anonymous When you think of your friends who are talking of flying MACH 2 at the bar, And you look at the aircraft you're starting, it goes just as fast at your car. You think of nice tight formations and Tutors in red, white and blue, And sit there and shake as it's winding up and wonder what happened to you. How you used to talk about air fights and you loved to roll up-side down, And how you are sitting in some lonely field in a helicopter that's "Brown". So you grit your teeth and you bear it and dream of things that might have been, While the Grunt in the Scout Car beside you talks of moving the screen. In the evening you'll heat up your supper on an Arctic stove in your tent, And think of the bars and old 104's and wonder where they all went. You'll do your turn in the Ops Tent and go to sleep in the muck, And curse all the people who put you here and curse all your terrible luck. You're still half asleep in the morning at the five o'clock launch from the pad, And the coffee the cook had was lukewarm, and the breakfast was just as bad. You take off and look down behind you and no one is airborne but you, And nothing is moving in this early light and the sky is piercingly blue; And the snow on the hills is so sparkling and clean as you slowly climb up the side, You somehow start to forget all your woes and begin to enjoy the ride. You think of that day in Jamaica, when you landed your bird on the beach, The Arctic was great with bright Northern lights, you swore you could almost reach. You think of that night and the fire, the windstorm, lightning and rain, How you almost crashed at the rescue site, but you know you would do it again. Of the time that your brother was flying when you stopped to visit the farm, And although you felt a bit guilty, there wasn't really any harm. You think of the things you've accomplished and things that might have been, You weigh all the "might haves" against things you have done and all the places you've seen. You think of the guy in the spurs and the chute and the mask that is pinching his face, And you know that the rails are close to his sides and he barely has stretching space. And you thing of their boasts of high flight "near to God as man can go", As you land and stretch and slowly get out and quietly piss in the snow. Aviator
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Thanks!!!!!
Link Posted: 5/2/2001 9:07:53 PM EDT
that ones cute, whats the moral? that though you dont have a mercedes, you can go places that a mecedes cant (in yore 4x4 blazer)?
Link Posted: 5/2/2001 9:10:48 PM EDT
Actually, here is one thats a bit more heroic, but not what you need I'll bet. But here goes.. BECAUSE I FLY by Anonymous Because I fly I laugh more than other men. I look up an see more than they. I know how the clouds feel. What it's like to have the blue in my lap. To look down on birds. To feel freedom in a thing called the stick. Who but I can slice between God's billowed legs. And feel then laugh and crash with His step. Who else has seen the unlimbed peaks? The rainbow's secret? The real reason birds sing? Because I Fly, I envy no man on earth.
Link Posted: 5/2/2001 9:15:15 PM EDT
Originally Posted By the_survivalist: that ones cute, whats the moral? that though you dont have a mercedes, you can go places that a mecedes cant (in yore 4x4 blazer)?
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Yeah, pretty much thats the point. Most rotory wing people in the Army I know have always thought the Air Force guys had it pretty nice. But rotory wing has a log of benefits in it's own right. I traded rides with some F-4 jocks once. It was nice for a while, but pretty much sucks being strapped in and no room like that. Nice to be able to land and have some coffee out of the thermos Aviator
Link Posted: 5/2/2001 9:40:23 PM EDT
Not sure of the author - might be anonymous "TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HE LIVED ALL ALONE, IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE. I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE, AND TO SEE JUST WHO IN THIS HOME DID LIVE. I LOOKED ALL ABOUT, A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE, NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS, NOT EVEN A TREE. NO STOCKING BY MANTLE, JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND, ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES OF FAR DISTANT LANDS. WITH MEDALS AND BADGES, AWARDS OF ALL KINDS, A SOBER THOUGHT CAME THROUGH MY MIND. FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT, IT WAS DARK AND DREARY, I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER, ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY. THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING, SILENT, ALONE, CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME. THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE, THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER, NOT HOW I PICTURED A UNITED STATES SOLDIER. WAS THIS THE HERO OF WHOM I'D JUST READ? CURLED UP ON A PONCHO, THE FLOOR FOR A BED? I REALIZED THE FAMILIES THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT, OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT. SOON ROUND THE WORLD, THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY, AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY. THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR, BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS, LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE. I COULDN'T HELP WONDER HOW MANY LAY ALONE, ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME. THE VERY THOUGHT BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE, I DROPPED TO MY KNEES AND STARTED TO CRY. THE SOLDIER AWAKENED AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE, SANTA DON'T CRY, THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE; I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM, I DON'T ASK FOR MORE, MY LIFE IS MY GOD, MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS. THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP, I COULDN'T CONTROL IT, I CONTINUED TO WEEP. I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS, SO SILENT AND STILL AND WE BOTH SHIVERED FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL. I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT, THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR SO WILLING TO FIGHT. THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER, WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE, WHISPERED, CARRY ON SANTA, IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE. ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH, AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT. MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."
Link Posted: 5/2/2001 9:42:59 PM EDT
Nice, forgot about that one... Aviator
Link Posted: 5/2/2001 9:45:48 PM EDT
Originally Posted By eeshooter: Not sure of the author - might be anonymous "TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HE LIVED ALL ALONE, IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE. I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE, AND TO SEE JUST WHO IN THIS HOME DID LIVE. I LOOKED ALL ABOUT, A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE, NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS, NOT EVEN A TREE. NO STOCKING BY MANTLE, JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND, ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES OF FAR DISTANT LANDS. WITH MEDALS AND BADGES, AWARDS OF ALL KINDS, A SOBER THOUGHT CAME THROUGH MY MIND. FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT, IT WAS DARK AND DREARY, I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER, ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY. THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING, SILENT, ALONE, CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME. THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE, THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER, NOT HOW I PICTURED A UNITED STATES SOLDIER. WAS THIS THE HERO OF WHOM I'D JUST READ? CURLED UP ON A PONCHO, THE FLOOR FOR A BED? I REALIZED THE FAMILIES THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT, OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT. SOON ROUND THE WORLD, THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY, AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY. THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR, BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS, LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE. I COULDN'T HELP WONDER HOW MANY LAY ALONE, ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME. THE VERY THOUGHT BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE, I DROPPED TO MY KNEES AND STARTED TO CRY. THE SOLDIER AWAKENED AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE, SANTA DON'T CRY, THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE; I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM, I DON'T ASK FOR MORE, MY LIFE IS MY GOD, MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS. THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP, I COULDN'T CONTROL IT, I CONTINUED TO WEEP. I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS, SO SILENT AND STILL AND WE BOTH SHIVERED FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL. I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT, THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR SO WILLING TO FIGHT. THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER, WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE, WHISPERED, CARRY ON SANTA, IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE. ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH, AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT. MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."
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Thanks!! I'm gonna use that one too!!
Link Posted: 5/3/2001 4:18:29 AM EDT
[Last Edit: 5/3/2001 4:19:26 AM EDT by Norm_G]
Maybe not exactly heroic. How about a little haiku? Go to [url]http://www.frenchu.com/start.html[/url] and click on the "Yes! It's Here! Firearm Haiku! " link under the "information & Propaganda" category. Norm
Link Posted: 5/3/2001 4:29:16 AM EDT
[Last Edit: 5/3/2001 4:28:17 AM EDT by Admiral_Crunch]
I'm not sure if this is what you're looking for, but I really like it (plus I'm a B-17 fan). The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner From my mother's sleep I fell into the State, And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze. Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life, I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters. When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose. -Randall Jarrell 1945
Link Posted: 5/3/2001 5:33:05 AM EDT
I don't know who the author is, but here it goes: I have been that which others want to be but do not have the courage to become I have been where others feared to go I asked nothing from those who gave nothing and reluctantly accepted the thought of eternal loneliness should I fail I have seen the face of terror, felt the stinging cold of fear, and enjoyed the sweet taste of love I have tasted the sweet fruit of victory and the bitter herb of defeat I have cried, pained, and hoped... I have lived times others would say are best forgotten, and times that bring joyful memories I have taken a holy oath... Defend my country, state, and city, the people and property from all who would destroy it, and if need be, to give my life to this pledge I have fulfilled my solemn oath, and I was true to my oath 'til the very last breath and heartbeat of my body My soul and my spirit still hold to my oath, And I shall be always with you, my brothers and sisters Mourn not for me, I rest in the arms of my Lord, Jesus Christ. I think the title is "Light in the Midst of Darkness", but I'm not sure
Link Posted: 5/3/2001 9:18:44 AM EDT
[Last Edit: 5/3/2001 9:18:45 AM EDT by Imbroglio]
Still the very best I know of: A VISITOR FROM THE PAST Thelen Paulk I had a dream the other night, I didn't understand. A figure walking through the mist, with flintlock in his hand. His clothes were torn and dirty, as he stood there by my bed. He took off his three-cornered hat, and speaking low, he said: "We fought a revolution, to secure our liberty. We wrote the Constitution, as a shield from tyranny. For future generations, this legacy we gave. In this, the land of the free and the home of the brave. "The freedom we secured for you, we hoped you'd always keep. But tyrants labored endlessly while your parents were asleep. Your freedom gone, your courage lost, you're no more than a slave. In this, the land of the free and home of the brave. "You buy permits to travel, and permits to own a gun, Permits to start a business, or to build a place for one. On land that you believe you own, you pay a yearly rent. Although you have no voice in choosing, how the money's spent. "Your children must attend a school that doesn't educate. Your Christian values can't be taught, according to the state. You read about the current news, in a regulated press. You pay a tax you do not owe, to please the I.R.S. "Your money is no longer made of Silver or of Gold. You trade your wealth for paper, so your life can be controlled. You pay for crimes that make our Nation, turn from God in shame. You've taken Satan's number, as you've traded in your name. "You've given government control, to those who do you harm, So they can padlock churches, and steal the family farm, And keep our country deep in debt, put men of God in jail, Harass your fellow countrymen, while corrupted courts prevail. "Your public servants don't uphold the solemn oath they've sworn. Your daughters visit doctors, so their children won't be born. Your leaders ship artillery, and guns to foreign shores, And send your sons to slaughter, fighting other people's wars. "Can you regain the freedom for which we fought and died? Or don't you have the courage, or the faith to stand with pride? Are there no more values for which you'll fight to save? Or do you wish your children, to live in fear and be a slave? "People of the Republic, arise and take a stand! Defend the Constitution, the Supreme Law of the Land! Preserve our Great Republic, and God-Given Right! And pray to God, to keep the torch of Freedom burning bright!" As I awoke he vanished, in the mist from whence he came. His words were true, we are not Free, we have ourselves to blame. For even now as tyrants, trample each God-Given Right. We only watch and tremble, too afraid to stand and fight. If he stood by your bedside, in a dream, while you're asleep, And wonders what remains of our Rights he fought to keep, What would be your answer, if he called out from the grave: "IS THIS STILL THE LAND OF THE FREE AND HOME OF THE BRAVE???"
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