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In Flanders FieldsIn Flanders fields the poppies grow
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.
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Did I actually said you were right? That might be a first. :-)
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Listen to ``Taps" |
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The bugle call Taps had its origins on a battlefield of the Civil War. After the Union suffered a large number of casualties in a battle near Richmond, Virginia, Brigade Commander Colonel Daniel Butterfield reflected with sadness upon the men he had lost. Unable to compose music, he hummed a melody which his aide wrote down in musical notation. The company bugler played it that night to honor their dead comrades. It was officially recognized by the United States Army in 1874. Accompanied by the drumbeat, Muffled Ruffles, it is the highest honor given to those who have died in service to our country. |
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We only hope and pray that the good American people see where the danger lies and remember what this country has meant to the entire world.
Memorial bump.
Although this has probably been posted many times,
I can think of no better thread to re-post it to than this one.
Hope you don't mind:
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.
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."
"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."
05/30/02 - LUKE AIR FORCE BASE, Ariz. (AFPN) -- A Luke F-16 Fighting Falcon crashed May 29 shortly after 5 p.m. at the Sells Military Operating Area in southwest Arizona.
The pilot, Maj. David Walker, from the 56th Fighter Wing here, ejected safely and was taken to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Ariz., by the 308th Air Rescue Squadron. He was treated and is reported in good condition.
At the time of the mishap, Walker was on a basic fighter maneuver training mission.
A board of officers will investigate the accident. (Courtesy of Air Education and Training Command News Service)
Link here.
