Posted on 11/01/2001 1:11:15 AM PST by 2Trievers
Yeah, they can read about the young British soldiers on Afghanistan's plains!
Come in out of the rain lay your soaked heart on my sleeve. I will towel you dry with no questions, no need. You must open the window between us that blocks our meeting day. I will bring the sun to mix with all the gray. And we will see the rainbow, colored courage in the sky. We will share our stories til the rain outside goes by. So come in out of all that wetness, sit right by the fire, We shall lift the dampness off and share all we desire.
I'm now only "astounded" that I can still be astounded by any of this Shit!!!
Semper Fidelis
Dick G
Not so, I'm afraid!
This "conditioning" has been in effect many years now, and it will die hard or not at all. The conditioning is deep.
On the other hand, despite the sillyass ooh-rah BS, etc., I believe Semper Fidelis is stronger and deeper conditioning, and for Marines, it will prevail!
Happy to see the encouraging comments by you folks here--appreciated by this old jarhead!
Semper Fidelis!!!
Dick Gaines
I went when many feared to go,
I trod where they feared to tread.
My brothers were buried in waters so dark,
Their shrouds were weighted with lead.
We gave our best, what we had to give.
And some men gave their all,
For ungrateful people who betrayed our souls ...
Not in vain our boys did fall!
We watched our countrymen spit on us,
On our medals and ribbons worn with pride.
Perhaps because they had not the nerve,
And ran from the fight to hide.
We watched with sadness as they burned our flag,
An emblem proud and bold.
A flag we followed into the strife,
For a freedom we sought to hold.
We cursed them as they abandoned us,
Too selfish to uphold our war.
And watched as Hanoi Jane spoke out,
Like a filthy, traitorous whore.
We came home to an alien land,
A people we no longer knew.
We went quietly back into our homes,
War's stain, our souls imbued.
Time passed and people forgot us.
Our honor, sacrifice, the blood we shed.
Politicians led us on to new wars.
But we ne'er forgot our bretheren dead.
We served with honor in the thick of the fight,
Our pride in our country's call.
Remember ... remember that we too,
Gave this country our all!
Their names are now carved in granite,
Laid bare for America's sight.
America we were your beloved sons,
And we went willingly to the fight.
Turn not your face from us who served,
And honor those who now go,
We are a chosen brotherhood,
Who gave you the freedom you know.
It raises again the issue of whether there is any real value of fighting these people on their terms in their land. On our land on our terms, they are hardly a threat at all. Don't forget the WTC was done by educated Saudi's who trained or organized in Germany and the US and not by peopel who, for the most part, barely attain any education at all.
Remember it now?
Fiddlers Green
Half way down the trail to Hell
In a shady, meadow green,
Are the souls of all dead troopers camped
Near a good, old-time canteen,
And this eternal resting place Is known as Fiddlers Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen,
Accompanied by the Engineers, Artillery, and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen Dismount at Fiddlers Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene,
No trooper ever gets to Hell Ere hes emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again With friends at Fiddlers Green.
And so when horse and man go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge or fierce melee You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head And go to Fiddlers Green.
SCOUTS OUT!
Actively angry people make stupid mistakes. On the battlefield, those who make stupid mistakes are dead, and they do not get up and wash the Karo Syrup blood off after the director yells "CUT!"
Yes, he did. In some ways, tragic; but there's a question as to whether he would have survived the arrival of peace by more than a few years. The really decent folks like him often didn't.
I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air---
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath---
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear....
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town;
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.
Nobody's ever seen a dead cavalryman.
(Old Infantry Adage)
Sheesh. Most of these people here have no idea what it's like on the boat, anyway.
A line in long array where they wind betwixt green islands,
They take a serpentine course, their arms flash in the sun --- hark to the musical clank,
Behold the silvery river, in it the splashing horses loitering stop to drink,
Behold the brown-faced men, each group, each person a picture, the negligent rest on the saddles,
Some emerge on the opposite bank, others are just entering the ford --- while,
Scarlet and blue and snowy white,
The guidon flags flutter gayly in the wind.
God forbid that Marines stuck on board a floating gray box with nothing to do read some of the classic poetry from "The Great War."
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