A Few of FR's Finest....Every Day....02-16-04....Military Monday

Thanks. I like that one, too ! :O)

101 posted on 02/16/2004 11:31:35 AM PST by MeekOneGOP (The Democrats believe in CHOICE. I have chosen to vote STRAIGHT TICKET GOP for years !!)

To: The Mayor; LadyX; Billie; MeekOneGOP; jwfiv; deadhead; dutchess; dixie sass; All

Hi Mr. Mayor. :) You've made some fantastic posts today!

Things are very busy around here right now, will be checking back in later to see how cold it is in the north, south, east and west...and to see what kind of mood this and the democrats latest deeds has but everyone in. LOL!

102 posted on 02/16/2004 11:35:55 AM PST by Aquamarine

Hi Mayor. Military Monday bump.

103 posted on 02/16/2004 12:05:49 PM PST by Kudsman (Read any good Zot's lately?)

And do you have snowdrops about to open?
Camellias blooming?
Buds fattening on the dogwoods, soon to be our version of 'snow?'!!
Thought not..:))

No, but I've got PLENTY of SNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW, tyvm!

: )

104 posted on 02/16/2004 1:16:43 PM PST by nicmarlo

To: lonestar; LadyX

I know how bribes work and wasn't about to take any chances. Blue Ribbon Weinie

Well, all I know is I think I'm kinda glad I'm not a blue (green, purple, or red) ribbon wienie! : )

Speaking of which, anybody hungry yet? (Hold the mustard, unless is spicy BROWN) : )

105 posted on 02/16/2004 1:22:33 PM PST by nicmarlo

THAT is a very kewl pic of that plane, Mayor. Thanks. I guess you are into planes; all I know is that they all have wings....I don't suppose you agree with that either, lol....does the stealth have what are commonly referred to as wings in the "wing" sense? I've read how people can pic out all kinds of aircraft from watching them overhead....that amazes me, as I can't even distinguish vehicles apart, except by color, lol!

106 posted on 02/16/2004 1:31:30 PM PST by nicmarlo

Very chilly; but the sun's been out all day, and it's beautiful!!!

107 posted on 02/16/2004 1:33:16 PM PST by nicmarlo

Sorry about that Dixie. I guess the humor is a preference.

108 posted on 02/16/2004 2:27:19 PM PST by Calpernia (http://members.cox.net/classicweb/Heroes/heroes.htm)

afternoon Mayor.
From my e-mail inbox...

Military son

One of my sons serves in the military. He is still stateside, here in California. He called me yesterday to let me know how warm and welcoming people were to him, and his troops, everywhere he goes. Telling me how people shake their hands, and thank them for being willing to serve, and fight, for not only our own freedoms but so that others may have them also.

But he also told me about an incident in the grocery store he stopped at yesterday, on his way home from the base. He said that ahead of several people in front of him stood a woman dressed in a Burkina. He said when she got to the cashier she loudly remarked about the U.S. flag lapel pin the cashier wore on her smock. The cashier reached up and touched the pin, and said yes, I always wear it. The woman in the Burkina then asked the cashier when she was going to stop bombing her countrymen, explaining that she was Iraqi.

A gentleman standing behind my son stepped forward, putting his arm around my son's shoulders, and nodding towards my son, said in a calm and gentle voice to the Iraqi woman: "Lady, hundreds of thousands of men and women like this young man have fought and died so that you could stand here, in MY country and accuse a check-out cashier of bombing your countrymen. It is my belief that had you been this outspoken in YOUR OWN country we wouldn't need to be there today. But, hey? if you have now learned how to speak out so loudly and clearly I'll gladly pay your way back to Iraq so you can straighten out the mess you are obviously here to avoid."

Everyone in line, and within hearing distance, cheered the older Gentleman, coming forward as they reached for their wallets. The woman in the Burkina left the store in silence.

I am, like at least some that were in the store, outraged! But it also warmed my heart to know that we, as American's, are speaking out, calmly and succinctly (finally) to those that enjoy the freedoms here in the US but who complain and berate the very government (and the people) that protect those very freedoms. Hooray for Rea's son; Hooray for that
checker; Hooray for the gentleman in the store for his actions; Hooray for Rea for sharing this with all of us.

God Bless America, and Our Troops!

109 posted on 02/16/2004 2:48:43 PM PST by Diver Dave

Just saw this..."has but everyone in."

Of course I meant to say put! There's some things that Spellcheck just can't help with.

110 posted on 02/16/2004 3:08:39 PM PST by Aquamarine

To: LadyX; Calpernia; nicmarlo; dutchess

Gertie the....the....purple monkey

Up here at the Rainbow Bridge, I can have anything be anything I want it to be.

Gertie is a purple GORILLA!

Weinie

P.S. When Gertie gets a hole or comes apart at the seams, she will be welcomed at the Bridge. She has earned her due respect.

111 posted on 02/16/2004 3:37:47 PM PST by lonestar (Don't mess with Texans)

I'm gonna toast your buns!

Weinie

112 posted on 02/16/2004 3:48:49 PM PST by lonestar (Don't mess with Texans)

US MARINES ON THE BEACH AT PLELIU

He laid a hand on each man as he moved down the line of stretchers.

Before us stood the island of Peleiu, a jewel of the Pacific. One of the remote Palau islands, 500 miles east of the Philippines, its coral beaches glistened white in the September sun. The day was hot and dry; the island lush; its beaches dazzling. But behind the dunes, the 6.5 mm Nambu machine guns of the Japanese awaited us.

It was 1944 and the world was at war. I was sailing with a shipload of Marines. Months earlier, in 1943, they had bloodily secured Guadalcanal from the Japanese. Their assignment now was to go ashore and take this island.

I had been trained as a hospital corpsman. My job was to bandage wounded troops under tire on the front lines, to keep injured men alive until we could get them to the Navy hospital ship anchored offshore, where surgeons waited.

On this day in mid-September, as one of several Pharmacist's Mates, I was poised at the ship's rail ready to land with the Marines. "God," I prayed, "please protect me so I can tend to the injured." It was my constant fear that I'd get wounded and not be able to care for the men.

"Okay, Doc," I heard, "let's go." I scrambled over the rail and onto the cargo netting that formed a ladder down the side of the ship. Amphibious vehicles-"ducks" we called them-waited below. I was 33 years old, five feet nine inches, 150 pounds, but not the most agile sailor to participate in the landing, particularly with 120 pounds of medical supplies on my back. When the ship rolled, my foot missed the netting and I fell down toward the sea. Then I felt myself being pulled up short. A combat hardened Marine had grabbed my pack in midair; he held me until the ship rolled back and I was able to regain my footing and hurry down. Piercing screams out on the water sent chills down my spine. Men were being massacred as they landed. Again I asked God to help me handle whatever awaited me onshore.

Our duck steamed a zigzag course toward the beach head under the thunder of enemy fire. The noise deafened us. Geysers of seawater erupted everywhere. Enemy shelling intensified. The duck beside us was hit while I watched helplessly-its occupants never reached the beach. Bodies floated all around us. The water surged with explosives. The air was thick with the screams of the wounded and the dying.

Half of our troops were killed on the way to shore. Amazed to still be alive, I joined a patrol party on the beach. Their original Pharmacist's Mate had been killed. Forty-eight of us crawled from tree to tree, hiding among the brush to assess the situation. After only one hour our patrol was reduced to eight.

We were told by the brass that the island was expected to be secured within 24 hours. By nightfall, the fierce fighting had subsided, but it was obvious someone had miscalculated. Our troops had pushed back the Japanese only about a mile-and at great cost in men and materiel. Later we heard of the intricate system of tunnels the Japanese had burrowed beneath the island's coral surface. Their troops hid in these, and even heavy naval bombardment failed to make a dent in the Japanese defenses.

Now, left on the beach with men of an engineering battalion, I furiously scraped away at the hard coral, trying to help carve out a foxhole large enough to protect us during the night to come. Others worked with picks and shovels while a bulldozer dug a long trench parallel to the water's edge. We remained ashore to hold the beach, but as we watched the U.S. ships disappear over the horizon, none of us expected to be alive when they returned in the morning.

Ammunition was so low that we had only about four rounds per man-hardly enough to hold off the Japanese, who even now were reclaiming the territory won that day by our men, All night the Japanese could be heard passing among the shallow foxholes as we silently hunkered down to await the dawn…

Seven engineers and I tried to fade into the coral walls of our foxhole-eight feet square and three feet deep. As noiselessly as possible, we burrowed our way deeper into the strange island coral. The men began to tell stories about their wives and children. Photos, damp from sweat and saltwater, were pulled out of pockets and passed around, "Nice-looking kids." . . . "The boy's you all over again." … "She looks like a good woman," Nods and looks took the place of conversation. I had no wife or children. Right then, my family were those men and my duty was to take care of them-to listen, to encourage and to bind them up if they got hit on this night of terror.

Hearing Japanese troops pass close by, we held fingers to lips and pressed ourselves into the hard coral. Shells bursting in the black sky lit the enemies' silhouettes. We breathlessly waited to be discovered, to be shot, to be blown to bits by the grenades that continued to be lobbed into our foxhole. But incredibly, every grenade was a dud.

By morning we were all still alive. And at dawn we heard the Navy guns starting to bombard the island again. They were back! And we were caught in the crossfire. More Marines, bent on retaking the beachhead that had been won and lost the day before, were loading into landing craft. As they came ashore, I raised my Red Cross armband on my bayonet and was relieved to hear, "Hey, hold your fire! He's one of ours!"

The eight of us crouched low in the foxhole until the Marines overran us. Then, wearily we pulled ourselves out and scattered to perform our various assignments amid earth shattering blasts and shrieks. It was another day of flying bullets and horrible bloodshed.

I had set up my first-aid station at the end of the landing strip near Bloody Nose Ridge. Bushes and trees offered some cover, but the strip itself was a barren expanse, 1500 yards long and 400 yards wide. About a half dozen stretcher bearers worked with me. As fast as they brought in men torn apart by shrapnel and bullets, I applied sulfa and battle packs, but Japanese snipers began picking off the stretcher bearers. They were easy targets, darting into the open to retrieve the wounded. Confusion reigned. Shells exploded around us, and screams echoed from the victims as they lay in pools of blood, dismembered, entangled in their gear. Men fell faster than we could reach them.

Hopelessness overwhelmed me; the line of stretchers at my station seemed to extend into infinity. "God, help me," 1 gasped. "I don't know if 1 can do anything for these men."

And then, one after another, four men were gunned down trying to reach a Marine who looked like he would not make it. Finally, I ran to the wounded man myself. His condition was desperate. The hole in his middle was the size of my fists held side by side. His stomach leaked from the hole.

"I've got his feet, Dodd" an assistant yelled. We carried the Marine's blood-spattered body back to the station and set him down at the end of the line. There was nothing 1 could do for him. He was dying. 1 had been trained to give my attention first to those who had the best chance of living. That's how we set up the line of stretchers; so this man, mortally wounded, was placed last.

Every one of these men-bleeding, going into shock-needed me at once. 1 couldn't move fast enough.

Just then, a Marine stopped by my station. "Doc, 1 heard you were on the island last night" And then he hesitated. "Hey, Doc, those men in your foxhole. . . they didn't make it They got cut down moving equipment up to the front. . . . "

That finished me. 1 had prayed that God would sustain me, but now 1 began to crumble. Death pressed in on me. The horror was brutal, unbearable. Tears welled up, tears for my friends of the night before, for their families, and for these men waiting in agony for me to help. It all seemed too much-more than 1 could handle, even with God's aid. I was going to lose these men; they would never see their families, just like the guys in my foxhole. 1 tried to hide my face so the injured wouldn't see the extent of my despair.

A hand on my shoulder startled me. I looked into the calm face of a middle-aged man. He gazed at me with kindly eyes. Sand kicked up everywhere. Guns blasted at the front and from the battleship offshore, but the man seemed unfazed. His words puzzled me: "Don't worry, son. These Marines are going to be all right. You aren't going to lose any of them."

He was of average height, with a clean-shaven, ordinary-looking face. His dress was unusual, though. He was not wearing battle fatigues, but rather a dark gray suit-a suit without lapels or buttons and made of sweater like fabric. It was unlike any outfit I'd ever seen, and seemed odd in the midst of battle. He was not Asian, or of any other culture from that part of the world, nor did he appear to be an American.

His words gave me a surge of energy and I turned my attention to the wounded. As I patched one, and then another, I glanced up to see the man who had comforted me. He preceded me down the line of stretchers, bending over each Marine. "Hold on, son. Doc is on the way. He'll be with you soon." He laid a hand on each man as he moved down the line of 25 to 30 stretchers. The men must have thought he was a chaplain, but he wasn't. I knew that. He wasn't part of the military operation.

Then, as he paused over the last man-the Marine with the huge hole through his belly-he lingered for a few moments. When I next looked up, he was gone. But where? In front stretched the airstrip, a long open expanse-too long to cross in a few seconds. Strange, I thought. I glanced around in all directions. He had disappeared. Yet I knew that was not possible.

It would be 74 more grueling days before the island would be completely captured by the Marines. But this day would stay with me forever, because after I passed down that line of men, working over each with renewed strength and purpose I stopped short at the last stretcher

I could hardly believe what I saw It wasn't possible, and yet there it was, reminding me of a power greater than war, greater than anything we can imagine-God's power. I was staring at the Marine who should have been dead. In possible as it seemed, what had been an enormous perforation in his midsection was now a small manageable wound. In fact, it was no bigger than the tip of my thumb. As for the rest of those men, ever one of them lived and was transported to the hospital ship, just as promised by the mysterious comforter on the island of Peleliu.

God brings no man into the conflicts of life to desert him. Every man has a friend in heaven whose resources are unlimited; and on him he may call at any hour and find sympathy and assistance.

113 posted on 02/16/2004 3:58:04 PM PST by Dubya (Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father,but by me)

Thanks for the devotion.

114 posted on 02/16/2004 3:59:10 PM PST by Dubya (Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father,but by me)

I received this in my email from my cousin.

Even if you don't like George Bush - pass this on if you love America and our Troops! We are lucky to not be living in such dangerous daily conditions as our men and women in uniform - you can kiss your lucky stars that some people will put their lives on the line for others.

GOD BLESS AMERICA - AMERICA BLESS GOD!

The buildings that AREN'T burning in Iraq

"They have a saying in the news business," Geraldo Rivera related this week. "Reporters don't report buildings that don't burn." And with that introduction, he told a TV audience about the story that is being systematically denied to our entire nation: the success story of post-Saddam Iraq.

Are we losing some soldiers each week? Yes.

Is there some frustration in the public about electricity and water service? Yes.

Are some Saddam Hussein loyalists throughout the land, making trouble? Yes.

Has this opened a window for some terrorist mischief? Yes.

But that's ALL we hear. No wonder the country is in a mixed mood about Iraq. If you hear about the buildings that are not burning, though, it is a different story indeed.

Rivera is no shill for George W. Bush. But Bush, Condi Rice and Colin Powell together could not have been as effective as Geraldo was Thursday night on the Fox News Channel's Hannity and Colmes program.

"When I got to Baghdad, I barely recognized it," he began, comparing his just-completed trip to two others he made during and just after the battle to topple Saddam. "You have over 30,000 Iraqi cops and militiamen already on the job.

This is four months after major fighting stopped. Can you imagine that kind of gearing up in this country? Law and order is better; archaeological sites are being preserved; factories, schools are being guarded." But what about the secondhand griping that the media have been so efficiently relating about power, water and other infrastructure?

"To say that Iraq is being rebuilt is not true," answered Rivera. "Iraq is being built. There was no infrastructure before; we are doing it. I just think the good news is being underestimated and underreported." At this juncture, one must evaluate how to feel about the voices telling us only about the bad news in Iraq, whether from the mouths of news anchors or Democratic presidential hopefuls. At best, they are under informed. At worst, their one-sided assessments of post-Saddam Iraq are intentional falsehoods for obvious reasons.

If I hear one more person mock that "Mission Accomplished" banner beneath which President Bush thanked a shipload of sailors and Marines a few months back, I'm going to spit. That was a reference to the ouster of Saddam's regime, and that mission was indeed accomplished, apparently to the great chagrin of the American left. No one said what followed would be easy or cheap, and that's why the dripping-water torture of the cost and casualty stories is so infuriating.

Remember we pay our soldiers whether they are in Iraq or in Ft Bragg, North Carolina.

We should all mourn the loss of every fallen soldier. But context cries out to be heard. Our present news media is not performing this task. As some dare to wonder if this might become a Vietnam-like quagmire, I'll remind whoever needs it that most of our 58,000 Vietnam war toll died between 1966 and 1972, during which we lost an average of about 8,000 per year. That's about 22 per day, every day, for thousands of days on end.

Let us hear NO MORE Vietnam comparisons. They do not equate. What I hope to hear is more truth, even if we have to wrench it from the mouths of the media and political hacks predisposed to bash the remarkable job we are doing every day in what was not so long ago a totalitarian wasteland. Local elections are under way across Iraq, Rivera reported. "Where Kurds and Arabs have been battling for decades, things have been settling down. Administrator Paul Bremer is doing a great job."

So does Geraldo think his media colleagues are intentionally painting with one side of the brush? "I'm not into conspiracy theories,. But there's just more bang for your buck when you report the GI who got killed rather than the 99 who didn't get killed, who make friends, who helped schedule elections, who helped shops get open for business, who helped traffic flow again.

"The vast majority of Iraqis are very happy to have us there. I would like to see a bit more balance." This needs to be reported to the American Public who are presently being duped. I expect the dominant media culture to nitpick and attack Bush, and Democrats to blast him with reckless abandon. But when that leads to the willful exclusion of facts that would shine truthful light on the great work of the American armed forces, that level of malice plumbs new depths

115 posted on 02/16/2004 4:06:45 PM PST by Dubya (Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father,but by me)

CLICK ABOVE FOR VA INFO.

116 posted on 02/16/2004 4:11:26 PM PST by Dubya (Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father,but by me)

To: dixie sass; The Mayor; Kudsman

"I think that nation-building in our image is just another form of conquering other lands. Though our form of government is unique and works very well, not all people want our culture and beliefs.

We can say "here is what has worked for us, please feel free to incorporate what will work for you and your country, but do not become our clone." Perhaps if we tried that instead of forcing our beliefs on others we would be better liked."

A most articulate and thoughtful reply, dixie, that bears repeating for those who might have missed it.

Ever the optimist, I do think we are not truly intent upon 'forcing' our beliefs on other nations, but simply wish the better way to govern be within the reach of warring within or oppressed nations.
Altruistic, rather than aggressive thought.

We do not try to impose our idea of 'A Republic Is Best' upon those considered friends or allies, like the British, French, Germans, Italians, who have elections with a say in how they are governed; nor peaceful nations with monarchies, etc.

Some of those look at us as their uppity step-child - some with envy, and even contempt.
The truth is, many nations far exceed us in intelligence and education.

The majority of our citizens wish for others harmony and prosperity to the degree we enjoy it, in balance.

The current question is how long we can maintain that balance, with liberalism rapidly eroding our moral values.

117 posted on 02/16/2004 4:19:38 PM PST by LadyX (((( To God give praise and honor !! ))))

Most Decorated

WWII Combat Soldier

118 posted on 02/16/2004 4:21:06 PM PST by Dubya (Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father,but by me)

Famous Hollywood Movie Star

119 posted on 02/16/2004 4:22:30 PM PST by Dubya (Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father,but by me)

The Audie L. Murphy Memorial Web Site site has been established to preserve the memory, honor, and history of the late Audie L. Murphy, most decorated American combat soldier of World War II who died tragically in an airplane accident in 1971. He received every decoration for valor that this country had to offer plus 5 decorations presented to him by France and Belgium

In 1997, this website was created by a high school teacher and donated to the Audie Murphy Research Foundation for several reasons.

It is our concern that the memory of Audie is beginning to fade. Unfortunately, many of his friends and comrades are passing away as the years go by. Sadly, younger generations seem to know little of Audie. It seems that in this day of tabloid journalism, sources of reliable information on one of America's greatest heroes are obscure and hard to find.

It is our desire this site will become a collection of information our children will discover and learn from. We also hope that adults will reacquaint themselves with an important part of their past. And finally, it is our wish that this site will provide inspiration to those who live in a time when inspiration and heroes are scarce.

120 posted on 02/16/2004 4:24:06 PM PST by Dubya (Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father,but by me)

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