[b]November 11. Lest we forget.[/b]

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[ARCHIVED THREAD] - [b]November 11. Lest we forget.[/b]

Posted: 11/10/2001 1:12:34 PM EDT

I know this is early but I will be dusting off my WWII Bren Gun carrier for the Remembrance Day parade and won't have time to post in the morning. To all the men and women who answered the call..Thank you, we will never forget.

[center][img]http://home.iae.nl/users/robr/poppy.gif[/img][/center]
[center]In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
[/center]

Posted: 11/10/2001 1:17:33 PM EDT

[#1]

[center]JUST A SIMPLE SOLDIER
(By Anonymous)

He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion,
Telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in
And the deeds that he had done.
In his exploits with his buddies;
They were heroes, everyone.
And 'tho sometimes, to his neighbors,
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened,
For they knew of where he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For ol' Bob has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer,
For a soldier died today.
He won't be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family,
Quietly going on his way;
And the world won't note his passing;
'tho a Soldier died today.
When politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories,
From the time that they were young,
But the passing of a soldier,
Goes unnoticed, and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution,
To the welfare of our land,
Some one who breaks his promise,
And cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow,
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his Country
And offers up his life?
The politician's stipend
And the style in which he lives,
Are sometimes disproportionate,
To the service he gives.
While the ordinary soldier,
Who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal
And perhaps a pension, small.
It's so easy to forget them,
For it is so long ago,
That our Bob's and Jim's and Johnny's,
Went to battle, but we know.
It was not just the politicians,
With their compromise and legislation,
Who won for us the freedom,
That our Country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger,
With your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out,
With his ever waffling stand?
Or would you want a Soldier,
Who has sworn to defend,
His home, his kin, and Country,
And would fight until the end?
He was just a common Soldier
And his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us,
We may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict,
Then we find the Soldier's part,
Is to clean up all the troubles,
That the politicians start.
If we cannot do him honor,
While he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage,
At the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline, in the paper that might say:

"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING, FOR A SOLDIER DIED TODAY."
[/center]

Posted: 11/10/2001 2:20:21 PM EDT

[#2]

I was at the battlefield around Ipier Belgium where "Flanders Fields" was written a few years ago.. I was with the father of a friend who lives there. He gave me a tour of the area and of his gun collection. That is a story for another time. I owe all veterans a debt that I can not repay.

Posted: 11/10/2001 2:25:28 PM EDT

[#3]

Bren Gun carrier? Where can I get one? So well liked, even the Germans used them.

Posted: 11/10/2001 3:51:40 PM EDT

[#4]

Here is a picture of mine. I'm in back. The two gentlemen in the front served and fought together in the North Nova Scotia Highlanders. Anyone who studied the invasion of Normandy knows of the exploits of this famous Battalion. Sgt. Lloyd Hurley who is standing talking to me was awarded the Croix de Guerre avec Etoile de Bronze (Military Cross
with Bronze Star)by the French government. Here is a link to a web page about him. [url]http://www3.ns.sympatico.ca/nshighregmuseum/hurley.htm[/url] The soldier driving was Sgt. Hurley's driver in WWII. This picture was taken the day of the first parade the carrier was in. It was also the first time that the two veterans had been in a carrier since the end of the war. To be able to share this moment with two of my hero's is hard to put in words. They have both passed on since this picture was taken. As long as the tracks turn I will put the carrier in the parade in honor of them. [img]www.ar15.com/members/albums/Striker%2Fcarrier%25202%2Ejpg[/img]

Posted: 11/10/2001 5:06:50 PM EDT

[#5]

Striker, I hope you can get the Bren Gun Carrier out in HONOR of your two friends and to all of those who have gave their lives for our freedoms.
Most people have no idea what living in a war zone is like, let alone to make the ultimate sacrifice for your fellow bothers around you.
We must never forget…unfortunately that is what is really happening in this country.
I know I will always remember the countless souls that have crossed over and I know that someday I will join my fellow brothers.
Good Luck

Posted: 11/10/2001 5:14:32 PM EDT

[#6]

Thanks Dakota. It will be out. It has never let me down yet. At 11:00am it will be parked just past the cenotaph along with a M31,1500 wgt and a Dodge 3/4 ton.

Posted: 11/10/2001 5:46:34 PM EDT

[#7]

[center]Reply to Flanders Fields

Oh! sleep in peace where poppies grow;
The torch your falling hands let go
Was caught by us, again held high,
A beacon light in Flanders sky
That dims the stars to those below.
You are our dead, you held the foe,
And ere the poppies cease to blow,
We'll prove our faith in you who lie
In Flanders Fields.
Oh! rest in peace, we quickly go
To you who bravely died, and know
In other fields was heard the cry,
For freedom's cause, of you who lie,
So still asleep where poppies grow,
In Flanders Fields.

As in rumbling sound, to and fro,
The lightning flashes, sky aglow,
The mighty hosts appear, and high
Above the din of battle cry,
Scarce heard amidst the guns below,
Are fearless hearts who fight the foe,
And guard the place where poppies grow.
Oh! sleep in peace, all you who lie
In Flanders Fields.

And still the poppies gently blow,
Between the crosses, row on row.
The larks, still bravely soaring high,
Are singing now their lullaby
To you who sleep where poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.

- John Mitchell [/center]

Posted: 11/10/2001 5:50:20 PM EDT

[#8]

[center]PLEASE WEAR A POPPY

"Please wear a poppy," the lady said
And held one forth, but I shook my head.
Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,
And her face was old and lined with care;
But beneath the scars the years had made
There remained a smile that refused to fade

A boy came whistling down the street,
Bouncing along on care-free feet.
His smile was full of joy and fun,
"Lady," said he, "may I have one?"
When she's pinned in on he turned to say,
"Why do we wear a poppy today?"

The lady smiled in her wistful way
And answered, "This is Remembrance Day,
And the poppy there is the symbol for
The gallant men who died in war.
And because they did, you and I are free -
That's why we wear a poppy, you see.

"I had a boy about your size,
With golden hair and big blue eyes.
He loved to play and jump and shout,
Free as a bird he would race about.
As the years went by he learned and grew
and became a man - as you will, too.

"He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,
But he'd seemed with us such a little while
When war broke out and he went away.
I still remember his face that day
When he smiled at me and said, Goodbye,
I'll be back soon, Mom, so please don't cry.
[/center]

Posted: 11/10/2001 5:50:45 PM EDT

[#9]

[center]"But the war went on and he had to stay,
And all I could do was wait and pray.
His letters told of the awful fight,
(I can see it still in my dreams at night),
With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,
And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire.

"Till at last, at last, the war was won-
And that's why we wear a poppy son."
The small boy turned as if to go,
Then said, "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know.
That sure did sound like an awful fight,
But your son - did he come back all right?"

A tear rolled down each faded check;
She shook her head, but didn't speak.
I slunk away in a sort of shame,
And if you were me you'd have done the same;
For our thanks, in giving, if oft delayed,
Thought our freedom was bought - and thousands paid!

And so when we see a poppy worn,
Let us reflect on the burden borne,
By those who gave their very all
When asked to answer their country's call
That we at home in peace might live.
Then wear a poppy! Remember - and give!

by Don Crawford
[/center]

Posted: 11/10/2001 10:04:41 PM EDT

[#10]

From Ted Nugents board:

WHAT IS A VET?

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service:a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.
Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg
or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.
Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.
You can't tell a vet just by looking.

So What is a VET?

He is the 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 barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

She or He is the nurse who fought against futility and 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 backs.

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 the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.

He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket palsied now and aggravatingly slow who helped 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 the 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,
"THANK YOU!"

Remember November 11th is Veterans Day!

"It is the soldier, not the reporter, Who has given us freedom of the press."
"It is the soldier, not the poet, Who has given us freedom of speech."
"It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate."
"It is the soldier, who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
who allows the protester to burn the flag."
Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC

To those who served in all wars Thank You and Welcome Home!!

Posted: 11/11/2001 7:19:56 AM EDT

[#11]

GOD BLESS ALL VETS!

http://www.snipercountry.com/articles.htm

I Am The Flag Of The United States of America
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up and see me.

I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
I stand for freedom.
I am confident.
I am arrogant.
I am proud.

When I am flown with my fellow banners,
my head is a little higher,
my colors a little truer.

I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world.
I am worshipped - I am saluted.
I am loved - I am revered.
I am respected - and I am feared.

I have fought in every battle of every war
for more then 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg,
Shiloh and Appamatox.
I was there at San Juan Hill,
the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome
and the beaches of Normandy, Guam.
Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me,
I was there.
I led my troops,
I was dirty, battleworn and tired,
but my soldiers cheered me
And I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled
on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible.

I have been soiled upon, burned, torn
and trampled on the streets of my country.
And when it's by those whom I've served in battle - it hurts.
But I shall overcome - for I am strong.

I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space
from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness
to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.

When I am torn into strips
and used as bandages
for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms
of a grieving parent
at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
I am proud.

MY NAME IS OLD GLORY
LONG MAY I WAVE.
DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN
LONG MAY I WAVE!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Note:

This was posted on the Duty Roster in the aftermath of the terrible attacks on the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon in Washington. It also arrived in many mailboxes all over the world. As such we do not have any idea of the origin of this, but we post it as it really is a piece of excellence.

Posted: 11/11/2001 11:17:19 AM EDT

[#12]

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 the 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 grownup 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."

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 nights chill.

I didn't want to leave
On that cold, dark, night,
This guardian of Honor
So willing to fight.

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."

This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan.

[ARCHIVED THREAD] - [b]November 11. Lest we forget.[/b]

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