To Honor the survivors and their families and friends who died during the attack on that Sunday morning December 7, 1941.
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Someones gotta fix that broken URL for "a Few of FR's Finest" though....
The following don't go no where ...:
The requested URL '/freerepublic.com/focus/fr/568620/posts' was not found on this server.
The following was read on the Sully and Scooter (Radio KOGO in San Diego)Show - Saturday, November 17th. Just outside of Ab Gach, in the northwest panhandle of Afghanistan between Tajikstan and Pakistan.
November 11, 2001
Bizarre,
It's (expletive) freezing here. I'm sitting on hard, cold dirt between rocks and shrubs at the base of the Hindu Kush mountains along the Dar'yoi Pomir River watching a hole that leads to a tunnel that leads to a cave.
Stake out, my friend, and no pizza delivery for thousands of miles. I also glance at the area around my ass every ten to fifteen seconds to avoid another scorpion sting. I've actually given up battling the chiggers and sand fleas, but them (expletive) scorpions give a jolt like a cattle prod. Hurts like a bastard. The antidote tastes like transmission fluid but God bless the Marine Corps for the five vials of it in my pack.
The one truth the Taliban cannot escape is that, believe it or not, they are human beings, which means they have to eat food and drink water. That requires couriers and that's where an old bounty hunter like me comes in handy. I track the couriers, locate the tunnel entrances and storage facilities, type the info into the handheld, shoot the coordinates up to the satellite link that tells the air commanders where to drop the hardware, we bash some heads for a while, then I track and record the new movement. It's all about intelligence.
We haven't even brought in the snipers yet. These scurrying rats have no idea what they're in for. We are but days away from cutting off supply lines and allowing the eradication to begin. I dream of bin Laden waking up to find me standing over him with my boot on his throat as I spit a bloody ear into his face and plunge my nickel plated Bowie knife through his frontal lobe.
But you know me. I'm a romantic.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: This country (Afghanistan) blows, man. It's not even a country. There are no roads, there's no infrastructure, there's no government. This is an inhospitable, rockpit (expletive) ruled by eleventh century warring tribes. There are no jobs here like we know jobs.
Afghanistan offers two ways for a man to support his family: join the opium trade or join the army. That's it. Those are your options. Oh, I forgot, you can also live in a refugee camp and eat plum-sweetened, crushed beetle paste and squirt mud like a goose with stomach flu if that's your idea of a party. But the smell alone of those "tent cities of the walking dead" is enough to hurl you into the poppy fields to cheerfully scrape bulbs for eighteen hours a day.
And let me tell you something else. I've been living with these Tajiks, Uzbeks and Turkmen and even a couple of Pushtins for over a month and a half now and this much I can say for sure: These guys, all of em, are Huns. Actual, living Huns. They LIVE to fight. Its what they do. Its ALL they do. They have no respect for anything, not for their families or for each other or for themselves. They claw at one another as a way of life. They play polo with dead calves and force their five-year-old sons into human cockfights to defend the family honor. Huns, roaming packs of savage, heartless beasts who feed on each other's barbarism. (Expletive) cavemen with AK 47's.
Then again, maybe I'm just cranky. I'm freezing my (expletive) ass off on this stupid (expletive) hill because my lap warmer is running out of juice and I can't recharge it until the sun comes up in a few hours.
Oh yeah! You like to write letters, right? Do me a favor, Bizarre. Write a letter to CNN and tell Judy and Paula and that awful, sneering, pompous Aaron Brown to stop calling the Taliban "smart." They are not smart. I suggest CNN invest in a dictionary because the word they are looking for is "cunning." The Taliban are cunning, like jackals and hyenas and wolverines. They are sneaky and ruthless and, when confronted, cowardly. They are hateful, malevolent parasites who create nothing and destroy everything else. Smart. Pfft.
Yeah, they're real smart. They've spent their entire lives reading only one book (and not a very good one, as books go) and consider hygiene and indoor plumbing to be products of the devil. They're still figuring out how to work a Bic lighter. Talking to a Taliban warrior about improving his quality of life is like trying to teach an ape how to hold a pen; eventually he just gets frustrated and sticks you in the eye with it.
OK, enough. Snuffle will be up soon so I have to get back to my hole. Covering my tracks in the snow takes a lot of practice but I'm getting good at it. Please tell my fellow Americans to turn off their TV sets and move on with their lives. The story line you are getting from CNN is utter (expletive) and designed not to deliver truth but rather to keep you glued to the screen through the commercials. We've got this one under control. The worst thing you guys can do right now is sit around analyzing what we're doing over here because you have no idea what we're doing and, really, you don't want to know. We are your military and we are doing what you sent us here to do.
You wanna help? Buy some (expletive) stocks, America.
Saucy Jack
We were attacked. Dad enlisted. Went to Guam. We won. I'm here.
I'm sure I'm not the only one that owes my life to him.
Thanks, dad. I will never forget, but I still haven't figured out how the 'lie' can ever be defeated without God in every head, and Christ in every heart.
"Freedom has a price, remember those who paid with their lives."
An Afghan boy flies a kite, forbidden during Taliban rule, from a roof in central Kabul December 7, 2001. The Taliban's rule over its last bastion of Kandahar in southern Afghanistan came to an end with their forces laying down arms to a joint commission of tribal elders, Afghan Islamic Press (AIP) said.
I'm writing you this letter
because you are my friend.
The fighting here is more
than I can take.
I'm homesick, tired, and dirty,
won't this fighting ever end,
But, Don't tell Mother this for Heaven's sake!Just tell the folks I miss 'em.
That I am well,
and feeling fine.
Don't tell 'em that I killed three men
this morning on the line.
Just tell them that thier oldest boy
is fighting like a man.
And, tell them that I miss 'em,
and will soon be Home again.
To ALL who wore the uniform during times of war,
I Salute you.
Let it never be said, that we don’t remember.
What Submariners have done, since that day in December.
The sun shown bright, on that Pearl Harbor morning.
When the enemy attacked, with little or no warning.
The Tautog was there, with no time to think.
And splashed one Japanese plane, right down in the drink.
She sent twenty-six ships, to the depths of the sea.
And came to be known, as the "Terrible T."
The Sealion at Cavite, was the first to be caught.
She was moored to a pier, but bravely she fought.
Two bombs exploded, through the hull they did rip.
And many brave submariners, died in their ship.
There were many proud boats, like the Perch and the Finback.
The Kraken, the Haddock, the Scamp and the Skipjack.
We remember the Halibut, Blenny and Darter.
And never forget, Sam Dealey in Harder.
Cutter and Seahorse’s, torpedoes ran true.
She targeted the enemy, and sank many Marus.
And although the enemy, was quite filled with hate.
"Red" Ramage and Parche, showed many their fate.
"Mush" Morton and Wahoo, never backed down from a fight.
Fluckey and Barb, entered Namkwan Harbor one night.
Many airman were saved, by O’Kane and the Tang.
Some owe their lives, to Seafox, Tigrone and Trepang.
We remember the honorable, boat called Barbel.
Before she was lost, she gave the enemy hell.
The Sturgeon, the Trigger, the Pollack had heart.
The Torsk, made the last two frigates depart.
Nowadays the cold war, seems to be a big factor.
And submarines are powered, by nuclear reactors.
The proud names are still there, the Tautog did shine.
But her hull number by then, was Six Thirty Nine.
Many boats gave their all, with heroic namesakes.
Like Thresher, Scorpion, Nautilus and Skate.
The Seadragon, Swordfish, Richard B. Russell and Dace.
Have all stood out to sea, and heard the enemies trace.
We remember "Forty-One For Freedom," whose patrols couldn’t fail.
The George Washington, Andrew Jackson and Nathan Hale.
Now the Alaska and Nebraska, and other Tridents are here.
They patrol the deep oceans, so aggressive nations have fear.
There are new boats on the line, called Cheyenne and Wyoming.
They will all do us proud, like the old Gudgeon and Grayling.
So take time each day, and think of the past.
Then toast the new Seawolf, for she’s quiet and fast.
Let it never be said, that we don’t remember.
What submariners have done, since that day in December.
The sun still shines bright, every Pearl Harbor Morning.
But never forget, the enemy attacks without warning.
By John Chaffey
SSN639, SSN687, SSBN619
From the KRLA 87-AM website:You say you will never forget where you were when you heard the news on September 11, 2001.
Neither will I.
I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room with a man who called his wife to say, "Good-bye."
I held his fingers steady as he dialed
I gave him the peace to say, "Honey, I am not going to make it, but it is OK...I am ready to go."
I was with his wife when he called
as she fed breakfast to their children.
I held her up as she tried to understand his words and as she realized he wasn't coming home that night.
I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor
when a woman cried out for Me for help.
"I have been knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!"
I said, "Of course I will show you the way home -
only believe in Me now."
I was at the base of the building with the Priest
ministering to the injured and devastated souls.
I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven.
He heard my voice and answered.
I was on four of those planes, in every seat, with every prayer.
I was with the crew as they were overtaken.
I was in the very hearts of the believers there, comforting and assuring them that their faith has saved them.
I was in Texas, Kansas, London. I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news. Did you sense Me?
I want you to know that I saw every face.
I knew every name - though not all know Me.
Some met me for the first time on the 86th floor.
Some sought Me with their last breath.
Some couldn't hear Me calling to them
through the smoke and flames;
"Come to Me...this way...take My hand."
Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me.
But, I was there.
I did not place you in the tower that day.
You may not know why, but I do.
However, if you were there in that explosive moment in time, would you have reached for Me?
September 11, 2001 was not the end of the journey for you.
But someday your journey will end.
And I will be there for you as well.
Seek Me now while I may be found.
Then, at any moment, you know you are "ready to go."
I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.
Remember...I love
Silent Night
On November 30, 2001 our sister station, The Fish 95.9, aired a new version of the song Silent Night that produced here at the station. This new version reflects back on the events of September 11, 2001. We want to share this song with our KRLA listeners as well. You can download the song in two different formats, Real Audio or mp3.
Looking for the lyrics for this song? Try here.
Silent Night - Real Audio format
Silent Night - mp3 format (Right click and select "Save As")
If you do not have Real Player, you can download it here.
If you need an mp3 player, we recommend Winamp.
I first heard this POWERFUL "audio clip from God" on nationally syndicated Mike Gallagher radio show this morning.
It is also posted at www.MikeONLINE.comPlease SHARE THIS with your friends and family.
(It is even MORE powerful when you hear it via the audio clip, with "Silent Night" playing in the background.)
