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If you know a Veteran, someone in your family,
friend of the family, neighbor, who served their
country, take a brief moment of your day to thank them.
Thank them for the sacrifice they made for the better good
of their country.
We at Free Republic and the USO Canteen FReeper Style
are thankful for every service member in our military who
has served our great nation .
So, to the men and women who answered the call in both times of war and peace, thank you.
Our Veterans took a thousand towns and villages……Snow fields and empty stretches of Ocean…….. The jungles hot and deep, and fought the fight for FREEDOM, and turned then into sacred places with their courage in the face of unimaginable horror.
Anzio
When they fought their way ashore at Normandy…….Dodger their bombers through a deadly maze of antiaircraft fire.......Went weeks without sleep in a mad race to break the German Code……
They KNEW what was at stake.......it was US. Their children and grandchild and their homeland.......our FREEDOM
"THAT RAGGED OLD FLAG"
I walked through a county courthouse square
On a park bench, an old man was sittin there.
I said, "Your court house is kinda run down,
He said, "No, it will do for our little town".
I said "your old flag pole kinda leaned a little bit,
And that's a ragged old flag you got hanging on it".
He said "have a seat", so I sat down,
He said, "is this your first visit to our little town"
I said, "I think it is"
He said "I don't like to brag, but we're kinda proud of
"That Ragged Old Flag"
"You see, we got a little hole in that flag there,
When Washington took it across the Delaware.
It got powder burned the night Francis Scott Key sat watching it, writing
"Oh Say Can You See"
It got a rip in New Orleans, with Packingham & Jackson
tugging at its seams.
It almost fell at the Alamo beside the Texas flag,
But she waved on tho.
It got cut with a sword in Chancellorsville,
Got cut again at Shiloh Hill.
There was Robert E. Lee and Beauregard and Bragg,
And the south wind blew hard on
"That Ragged Old Flag"
On Flanders Field in World War I,
She took a bad hit from a Bertha Gun,
She turned blood red in World War II
She hung limp and low by the time that one was through,
She was in Korea, Vietnam, She went where she was sent
by her Uncle Sam. Mbr> The Native Americans, The Black, Yellow and White
All shed red blood for the Stars and Stripes.
And here in her own good land,
She's been abused, burned, dishonored, denied and refused,
And the very government for which she stands
Has been scandalized throughout out the land.
And she's getting thread bare, and she's wearing kinda thin,
But she's in pretty good shape, for the shape she's in.
Cause she's been through the fire before
and she can take a whole lot more.
So we raise her up every morning
And we bring her down slow every night,
We don't let her touch the ground,
And we fold her up right.
On second thought
I do like to brag
Cause I'm mighty proud of
"That Ragged Old Flag"
Written by Johnny Cash
FORGOTTEN FIGHTER
by James Kisner
"In World War II," he whispered, "I was wounded by a blast."
As he began his story, reminiscing of his past.
"I was just a boy back then, I lied about my age."
"To get into the army, and .... fight for the U.S.A."
"I love this country very much, it's still the very best."
"And I would fight, to keep it free, and safe from foreign pest."
"We won that war, and I came home, my wounds had healed enough,
To re-enlist with other men." "The army made us tough."
"Then a little flare up, in Korea called us out."
"A threat against our freedom, spreading fear without a doubt."
"There I caught a bullet, when I tried to save a friend."
"Another wound, for Uncle Sam, they sent me home to mend."
"Soldier, have you had enough? My sergeant said to me."
"Or, do you want another tour, if ever there's to be?"
"We would train and fight again, if ever ..... it need be."
"Because we love America, we'll fight to keep it free."
"It didn't take too long, before my boys were off again."
"We were shipped off to a war, we thought would never end."
"I didn't understand it much, if it was wrong or right."
"But ..... I was a U.S. soldier, and my country said "Go fight."
"I never questioned orders, that were sent from up above."
"I did it for America, the country, that I love."
"I fought to keep my country safe, again, in Viet Nam."
"Then, wounded I came home again, a victim of napalm."
"My fighting days were over now, and I had given all."
"But some had given more than me, their names are on a wall."
"I am now, well up in years, a soldier old and worn."
"I could only sit and pray, as I watched Desert Storm."
"So proud of our boys over there, who stand for what is right."
"Freedom is the battle cry, the reason why they fight."
"Young soldiers fight for liberty, protecting freedoms bliss."
"Old soldiers dream of by-gone-days, while fighting loneliness."
"We were heroes in our day," He said, and then he sighed.
"Forgotten in some V.A. home, and all my friends have died."
"I never ask for anything, just wanted to live free."
"But if you write this story, there are many just like me."
"Who fought to keep our country, safe and free from every foe."
"Only to come home again, and have no place to go."
"Sadly, when the limelight fails, Heroes fade away."
"Some men fight the silent battles, till their dying day."
"Please .... remember what it took, and what we had to pay."
"And join with us remembering on this Memorial Day."
"Memorial Day is special, it is not just summer's start."
"The reason that we have this day, should be etched on your heart."
"Lives were lost, and young men died, to keep this country free."
"So take a moment on that day, to meditate with me."
"Remember all those valiant men, and women who fought for,
The lifestyle that you now enjoy, because they went to war."
VETERANS NEVER FORGOTTEN
And away He went to war…….
Young, full of dreams and hope for a future...blue eyes shining bright.
He stepped on the bus that would carry him away from us.
We waved until we could see the bus no more and then we waved once more...as if to insure all our love went with him.
We could not imagine our baby boy going off to fight a war in a place we had never even heard of...
Days came and went. The letters were full of wonderful memories of his childhood and telling me to be sure and cook his favorite foods and think of him...He wrote about the endless rain that kept them walking in soggy field of rice ... and the heat that was relentless ... and of the people who were so distrustful because of the Americans.
He also wrote of his pride in our country...of believing in what he was doing.
And once he wrote a letter that ripped my heart into...he wrote
"Mom...there are times when I am in the foxholes and I feel like I am not going to come out. I don't want you to worry though, Mom because I believe I am going to come home...deep inside of me. I am coming home, Mom."
Never before had I thought much about soldiers until my son put on his uniform. And then I began to pray for them all...and when I would see one my heart would fill with love for them. I did not know all the horrors they saw or the pain they felt but I knew they were laying down their very lives for the country we live in.
I knew there was no greater love. Soon the calendar in our kitchen was filled with marks.
We were counting the days ... and then the letters which had been coming stopped.
A couple of weeks after the letters had stopped and my heart was growing so heavy...it hurt to breathe. A mother knows. I gave him life. He grew inside my body...and I knew. A part of my soul had died... I knew before the two men knocked on our door that morning. I did not hear much of their words...all I knew was my baby boy was gone. And I knew that my world would never be the same.
Many years have come and gone since that day in '69. But whenever I pass a soldier on the street or see one on TV, I stop and pray...
"Dear God...bless that young man...protect him and let him know how grateful we are for what he does. For what he is doing for this nation...bless His life, dear God. Please keep him safe and let him return home safe and sound..."
Today I laid a wreath and a flag on my son's grave. I could hear his words still even after all these years..."Mama, I am coming home." And he did ... not the way I had prayed but my son is home-in a place where there is no more death or sadness. And He is home in his mother's heart...with every breath I breathe.
Each time I sing, "Our Country 'tis of Thee...Sweet Land of Liberty," I see my son, I see mothers and fathers who have lost their children...I see wives who lost their husbands... I see children who lost their Dads ... and I see a flag waving in the wind over a land that is free.
And I know the cost of that freedom... God bless our veterans ... each and everyday.
May they always know the price they paid is not forgotten ... and the land they fought to save ... may freedom always ring!
I'M COMING HOME,A SOLDIER'S STORY
A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco. "Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home with me.
"Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him." "There's something you should know," the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us." "I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live." "No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us." "Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own."
At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police.
Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only one arm and one leg.
BALLAD OF THE CHOSIN
The nights were cold in the Korean soil But the night's been cold before And it's not so hard in your own back yard To be set for peace or war.
But in history there's a chapter of a place called Valley Forge Repeated one December on the Chosin Reservoir.
They had us all surrounded I could hear them scream and yell My feelings at that moment No tongue could ever tell.
I saw the bursting mortar shells And the bullets around me flew As all my strength had left me And all my courage too.
With the breaking of the morning Just before the dawn I heard the sounding bugles And the big attack was on.
The cotton quilted uniforms Against our bullet spree The screaming yelling banzai They called the human sea.
Baby faces bearded And chapped with hardenin' mud Parkas that were dirty And stained with frozen blood. Here a bunch of youngsters Who fought on 'til the end In the battle of the Chosin Where boys were turned to men.
Twelve long miles of convoy Headed for the sea Roadblocks at every turning Down through Koto-Ri. The frost bite and the wounded With their dead and dying too No matter what the objective be These boys were going through.
The Captain he informed us Perhaps he thought it right That before we reach the river boys We're going to have to fight
We're going out like Marines In an organized withdraw And no matter what the rumors say It's no retreat at all.
We fought at least nine hours Before the strife was ore And the like of the dead and wounded I've never seen before.
But the everlasting promise Kept along each bloody yard No one leaves behind the wounded 'Cause there ain't no fight that hard.
The Chaplain collected dog tags In his hands were quite a few There was Captain Smith's, McCloskies And Corporal Bryan's too.
And before we reached the river And fought our way back through The Sergeant had the dog tags And he had the Chaplains too.
If I made you pause one moment And take a little time Then I know it wasn't just in vain That I put these words to rhyme.
For there's just too many people Who take this all in stride Who hear these tales of battles Then cast it all aside.
The nights were cold in the Korean soil But the night's been cold before And it's not so hard in your own back yard To be set for peace or war
But in history there's a chapter of a place called Valley Forge Repeated one December on the Chosin Reservoir.
Written by Frank Gross
The Ballad of Chosin was composed on December 29th 1950 and it is believed to be among the first ballads to be composed on the war in Korea .
WHO'LL TAKE THE SON?
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art. When the Viet Nam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier.
The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son. About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door.
A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art. The young man held out his package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this." The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected. The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited overseeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection. On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son.
Who will bid for this picture?" There was silence. Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one." But the auctioneer persisted,
"Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding?$100, $200?" Another voice shouted angrily, "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"
But still the auctioneer continued, "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?" Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room.
It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?" "Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?" The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections. The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"
A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!" The auctioneer laid down his gavel, "I'm sorry, the auction is over." "What about the paintings?" "I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time.
Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.
The man who took the son gets everything!" God gave his son 2,000 years ago to die on a cruel cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
--Author unknown
11th Calvary Vietnam
To those warriors, who have passed on since
and to those who gave their youth,
their health and their peace of mind
in the fight for freedom,
particularly the freedom of speech,
We sleep safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night
to visit violence on those who would do us harm.” ~ Orwell
