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Posted: 1/2/2004 5:07:56 PM EDT
There was this speech that a chaplain delivered during the funeral of a Marine (or was it a soldier?) that goes something like:

It is not the writers (scholars?)who give us the freedom of speech.......it is not the clergies who give us freedom of religion.....etc,...., but it is the soldier....who is covered (draped / wraped?) in this flag....who give us (our freedom?).

Sorry about the extremely chopy and incomplete clue, but if one of you could help me, I will be very greatful.  

Thank you.
Link Posted: 1/2/2004 5:26:36 PM EDT
IT'S THE SOLDIER


It's the soldier, not the reporter
Who has given us freedom of the
PRESS.

It's the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of
SPEECH.

It's the soldier, not the campus
ORGANIZER,
Who has given us the freedom to
DEMONSTRATE

It's the soldier, not the lawyer,
Who has given us the right to a
FAIR TRIAL.
It's the soldier who salutes the flag,
Serves under the flag
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who gives the protester the right to burn the flag.

-Father D. E. O'Brien

Link Posted: 1/2/2004 6:06:55 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 1/2/2004 6:17:43 PM EDT by second]
Thank you, Strats!

Edited:

It's the soldier who salutes the flag,
Serves under the flag
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who gives the protester the right to burn the flag.
View Quote


This part always touches my soul.  If I ever saw a flag burner, I'd beat the living crap out of him!!!

Link Posted: 1/2/2004 7:44:16 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 1/3/2004 4:26:36 PM EDT by A_Free_Man]
A eulogy for Airmen should include the poem "High Flight", by Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee.

[url]http://www.wpafb.af.mil/museum/history/prewwii/jgm.htm[/url]

"High Flight"

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

-John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

Edited to add:

It is also customary, for Navy, to sing Eternal Father (aka "The Navy Hymn").
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