FReeper Canteen ~ Memorial Day 2008 ~ 26 May 08

Serving The Best Troops And Veterans In The World | StarCMC and GI Joe

[Kathy in Alaska]

 

 

The FReeper Canteen Observes ------------------------ Memorial Day 2008 ------------------------

 

History

Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation's service. There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women's groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, "Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping" by Nella L. Sweet (see below) carried the dedication "To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead" (Source: Duke University's Historic American Sheet Music, 1850-1920). While Waterloo N.Y. was officially declared the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966, it's difficult to prove conclusively the origins of the day. It is more likely that it had many separate beginnings; each of those towns and every planned or spontaneous gathering of people to honor the war dead in the 1860's tapped into the general human need to honor our dead, each contributed honorably to the growing movement that culminated in Gen Logan giving his official proclamation in 1868. It is not important who was the very first, what is important is that Memorial Day was established. Memorial Day is not about division. It is about reconciliation; it is about coming together to honor those who gave their all.

Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. By 1890 it was recognized by all of the northern states. The South refused to acknowledge the day, honoring their dead on separate days until after World War I (when the holiday changed from honoring just those who died fighting in the Civil War to honoring Americans who died fighting in any war). It is now celebrated in almost every State on the last Monday in May (passed by Congress with the National Holiday Act of 1971 (P.L. 90 - 363) to ensure a three day weekend for Federal holidays), though several southern states have an additional separate day for honoring the Confederate war dead: January 19 in Texas, April 26 in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, and Mississippi; May 10 in South Carolina; and June 3 (Jefferson Davis' birthday) in Louisiana and Tennessee.

More history here.

 

 

 

 

Poetry & SONG

MEMORIAL DAY. In distant field of sunny France Where strangers come and go, Amid the farms of Flanders, where The fragrant breezes blow, Our soldier-dead in quiet sleep 'Neath crosses row on row. Here shrapnel shells once shrieked and burst And took their toll of death; The very wind, itself a foe, Bore poison on its breath. Above their graves the birds now sing As round that home of yore, When, carefree boys, they romped and played; Those childhood days soon o’er, The boys to brave and strong men grown, They romped and played no more. They put aside their childish toys, A man’s work each must do, And when their country called for them, To her they answered true. "We must protect our native land: She shall not suffer wrong For she has reared and nurtured us, We’re men and we are strong. We’ll bid good-by to those we love; It will not be for long." With aching hearts and tear-dimmed eyes We watched them go away. Some have returned but many sleep In foreign lands today. Where English roses bloom and fade, In France where lilies grow, Among the fields of Flanders, where The scarlet poppies blow, Our soldier-dead are not forgot Though strangers come and go. ~By Eula Gladys Lincoln~

America the Beautiful - 1913 O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea! O beautiful for pilgrim feet Whose stern, impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law! O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife. Who more than self the country loved And mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine Till all success be nobleness And every gain divine! O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea! O beautiful for halcyon skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the enameled plain! America! America! God shed his grace on thee Till souls wax fair as earth and air And music-hearted sea! O beautiful for pilgrims feet, Whose stern impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America ! America ! God shed his grace on thee Till paths be wrought through wilds of thought By pilgrim foot and knee! O beautiful for glory-tale Of liberating strife When once and twice, for man's avail Men lavished precious life ! America! America! God shed his grace on thee Till selfish gain no longer stain The banner of the free! O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed his grace on thee Till nobler men keep once again Thy whiter jubilee!

 

 

Links  The Soldier's Faith by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.  WWII's Kilroy Was Here Vietnam Memorial - Virtual Wall Elaine's Memorial Day Page  I Love Freedom Memorial Day Links  Memorial Day  Dear American Soldier In Iraq  US Memorial Day - LOTS OF GREAT STUFF!! All POW MIA Memorial Day Page

 

 

 

Links to redrock's
Memorial Day Threads from 2006

"We Can Be Heroes.....Just For One Day"
MEMORIAL DAY --Thread # 1


"Just Another Drunk Indian..."
MEMORIAL DAY--Thread # 2


"Chocolate Chip Cookies"
MEMORIAL DAY --Thread # 3


"Hey...Do Ya Wanna Hear a Polish Joke???"
MEMORIAL DAY --Thread # 4

 

"Remember...What We Owe.."
MEMORIAL DAY --Thread# 5

 

 

 

 

"Kneel Where Our Loves Are Sleeping Words by G.W.R. Music by Mrs. L. Nella Sweet Kneel where our loves are sleeping, Dear ones days gone by, Here we bow in holy reverence, Our bosoms heave the heartfelt sigh. They fell like brave men, true as steel, And pour’d their blood like rain, We feel we owe them all we have, And can but weep and kneel again. CHORUS Kneel where our loves are sleeping, They lost but still were good and true, Our fathers, brothers fell still fighting, We weep, ‘tis all that we can do. VERSE 2: Here we find our noble dead, Their spirits soar’d to him above, Rest they now about his throne, For God is mercy, God is love. Then let us pray that we may live, As pure and good as they have been, That dying we may ask of him, To open the gate and let us in. CHORUS Kneel where our loves are sleeping, They lost but still were good and true, Our fathers, brothers fell still fighting, We weep, ‘tis all that we can do."

 

 

 

[mylife]

Grandad never told me squat about the campaigns. He always spoke in broad terms, political and humanitarian terms about the area.

He was a lowly cook was what he would say.
Some in my family looked on that as an easy day, but I know it is no small feat to feed men in the Burmese jungle. They say Merill’s men lost 25 lbs.
The cook was hardly loved L0L.
I think Grandpa got the roll of cook simply because he was a good hunter and could make due.

They had nothing but was air lifted in.
You see the bamboo canisters on the parachutes and on the pack mules? that was the airlift.

All he brought home was one empty bamboo canister, its accompanying parachute, a jap flag and a jap sword.

I took those things to show and tell as a kid.
We were passing that dirty old sword around the class room when some of the kids noticed a ruddy color on their hands.

We thought it was rust. It was blood, coagulated on the blood runner for all those years and released by the sweaty little palms of those kids that day.

He is gone now, and so are all those things.
No one in my family understood the weight of those items except me.

Thank you for your service Old China Hand.

[Tanniker Smith]

Here's something that I used to post on an old website of mine every Memorial Day and Veteran's Day. I don't know if the entire thing is by Father O'Brien, or just the last part. I don't remember where I first found these, probably on Usenet, and I think it's really two pieces that were put together as one.

WHAT IS A VET?

Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC

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.

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 protestor to burn the flag."

Father Denis Edward O'Brien
USMC

[cbkaty]

No one in my family understood the weight of those items except me.

I understand, I am the family historian; a job that may one day be appreciated.

....and a cbkaty Salute to your Grandad is in order...!

My Dad was never stationed in Burma, but I still retell my Uncle's stories of flying "the hump".... He insisted that they barely made the flight over the hump each time....and a rough ride it always was.

[mylife]

You know the hump wasnt easy. A carburetor aspirated cessna is lucky to make 10,000 feet. The Hump was 20,000. Air is thin up there.

Our family historian neglected military service except for a passing note.

I may have to pick up the mantle on that one day.

Hats off to your Father and Uncle!

[mylife]

Another note on “the hump”

My only piloting experience was in a cessna in the sonoran desert. The planes cant quite clear the peaks and that requires flying mountain passes to get through.

Well, as soon as you hit the mountain face you encounter severe updrafts, in the passes all kinds of wind shear.
Experienced pilots often meet their demise in these conditions. Recently Steve Fossett.

Scared the crap out of me. I never did get that license.

[GodBlessUSA]

OOOOPS This is large post. ....embarassed, I’ll have it removed ;)

[mylife]

What the hell did you do GBU? ;)

[cbkaty]

Experienced pilots often meet their demise in these conditions. Recently Steve Fossett.

This is why the Burma/China filght path was called the Aluminum Trail.....follow the crash sites.

[mylife]

No doubt

[mylife]

BTW did you know the chef Julia Child was in on this operation in the OSS?

[mylife]

I found a drones wreckage on Mt Tefort

[mylife]

Mt Tefort? SP? I better go break out some maps to refresh my spelling

[SevenofNine]

AH Let see not counting my parents and my cousin

And my brother LOL!

[cbkaty]

BTW did you know the chef Julia Child was in on this operation in the OSS?

Sure did not....so all that alumuinum was pots and pans? ...GRIN.

[mylife]

She was an intel officer back in england feeding intel to the flying tigers

[mylife]

600?

[mylife]

600?

[mylife]

600?

[mylife]

600?