I wanted to wish all of our veterans and their families a happy Veterans Day and to thank them for their sacrifices. I just took a walk down to the mall in Washington and watched children give veterans cards that they made for today. It was a scene that captures all that is right with this country. It was kind and unpretentious and real.
My father Jack Turley served in the Pacific in World War II with the Navy and my grandfather Ed Turley served in the Army with the Fighting Irish in World War I. We were fortunate to have both return from the war, though my paternal grandfather was wounded and suffered from memories of gas attacks on the front.
This day brings back a common history and investment that all families have made to this country both as veterans and as family members of veterans. I hope everyone has a fun and safe holiday.
http://lilyslist.com/members/zandra/
http://www.zerohedge.com/contributed/2013-11-11/veterans-day-2013-modern-war-god%E2%80%A6
Interesting comments I thought
Stop The War!
sgtsabai,
Thank you. Speaking of “long versions,” Over on Daily Kos, I reprised the story of Kirby Cowan and the lost airmen of Buchenwald, which I wrote about on this blog some time back. New photos, new details and new information. Besides, most of the million registered users over at DKos don’t read this blog. It is not easy to read, but what true stories on the subject are easy to read. Interesting phenomenon, that a diary with that many “recommends” has so few comments. I think the subject matter left most readers stunned into silence.
http://www.dailykos.com/story/2013/11/11/1254732/-The-Airmen-of-Buchenwald-A-Veteran-s-Day-Remembrance
Otteray Scribe, Great story, especially the long version.
I’ve lost far too many friends over the years, many to Agent Orange. I had the privilege of driving USMC “Walking Dead” Vet Michael Damron to ‘The Wall’ through the blizzard of ’96 (he didn’t want to fly because of his cancer-Agent Orange). This was his dying request. Off we went, one legally blind former Army Airborne, 3 USMC Vietnam Vets (with money help from others) did the duty. One dying, one already sick, unable to drive in the snow, and soon to be diagnosed with double lung cancer from Agent Orange (my best friend, Sgt. John Kniffin killed by Agent Orange Sept. 2002). Things were looking bad for Michael at one point in the journey, he said “if I don’t make it, just put me beside the rest of the souvenirs and leave me”. We made it and got him home where he died 7 days later. His dying words were “Is everybody alright”, I know who he was talking to and I think the Vets among us do to. An award winning newspaper article told the story in “The Last Mission”.
I had what has become over the past few years my annual toast by the Mekong River yesterday to all my fallen comrades from all countries but especially my friends.
If there is a hell, may those chickenhawks that start these damned wars be damned to a special place there. I know they aren’t getting in heaven ’cause United States Marines are guarding heaven’s scenes.
Soldier’s Soldier
Scapegoat of the king’s ambition
Hostage to the prince’s crime
Sent upon a madman’s errand
Soldier of another time
Sworn to do as he is bidden
Not to think of why he came
From himself his purpose hidden
Soldier by another name
Searching for a mystic evil
Ever just a war away
Always beaten, not defeated
Back to fight another day
Battles always won, but cheated
Of the promised victory
Never lost but just depleted
Army of our history
Kill the chicken; scare the monkey
Centipede is dead, not stiff
Off to far Cathay he marches
Soldier diving off a cliff
War not done but just abated
Peace the only thing to fear
Power’s hunger never sated
Soldier’s orders never clear
Dragon’s teeth by Cadmus planted
Sprung from battle’s plain full grown
Men who kill them all if doubtful
Heathen gods will know their own
Burn the village, clear the jungle
Save them from themselves at least
Make excuses for the bungle
Soldier then becomes the beast
Wounds still fresh and redly bleeding
Bound up with a filthy rag
Something shapeless once a husband
Stuffed into a plastic bag
Squatting in the dusty swelter
Widowed woman once a wife
Never more to know the shelter
Of a tranquil married life
Head thrown back in boundless grieving
Mouth agape with soundless woes
Tears and snot now glisten, mingling
Coursing down from eyes and nose
Anguished face a tangled curtain
Clotted, matted, raven hair
Almond eyes with sight uncertain
Weeping pools of deep despair
Do not knock this war we’re having
It’s the only one we’ve got
Better dead than red we tell them
Mouthing slogans; talking rot
Fight them over there they tell us
Rather that than fight them here
Just invent some casus bellus
Danger’s best that’s never near
Ozymandias’ sneering statue
Crumbled in the desert bare:
Look upon my works, you mighty
See their ruin and take care
Told to teach and be creative
Soldier ignorant and young
Learned instead and then went native
Speaking now an ancient tongue
Only they will now receive him
Who see not his bloodstained hand
None will hear for he can’t speak it
Stranger to his own lost land
Bringing with him what he carried
Losing only what he bought
To the cause no longer married
Soldier doing what he ought
Shipped away like so much baggage
Not to choose the things he’s done
Often bad and sometimes better
Soldier not the only one
Now he comes home like the others
Breathless lips and eyes shut fast
Lain to sleep beside his brothers
Soldier’s soldier to the last
Michael Murry, “The Misfortune Teller,” Copyright 2005
Otteray Scribe:
Great story. Thanks for sharing with all of us on this Veterans Day.
Frank,
Your stories reminded me of Stumpy. Gerald “Stumpy” Richardson finally lost his battle with MS. He died in an assisted living facility not far from here. He actually died unexpectedly, and no one was prepared. I took over the paperwork and made arrangements for him to be interred in the Mountain Home National Cemetery. His significant other was working in another state and had to fly in. On the blogs, her username is “Webgenie.”
Here is where the story takes a turn. We had the service, and the Colonel in charge presented her with the flag. I got a new cherrywood flag case for her, still in its cardboard box. I put the flag in it for her and locked down the back cover. She kept the cardboard box it came in so it would be protected while traveling. Of course, she intended to carry it in her lap. I made her promise to call as soon as she got home. I wrote about her return trip:
http://www.dailykos.com/story/2011/01/30/940062/-We-buried-Stumpy-with-Honors
A SHORT STORY [RESPECT THE MILITARY SERVICEMEN AND WOMEN]
The Box Lunches
I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my assigned seat. It was going to be a long flight. ‘I’m glad I have a good book to read. Perhaps I will get a short nap,’ I thought.
Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. I decided to start a conversation.
‘Where are you headed?’ I asked the soldier seated nearest to me. ‘Petawawa. We’ll be there for two weeks for special training, and then we’re being deployed to Afghanistan
After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that box lunches were available for five dollars. It would be several hours before we reached the east, and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time…
As I reached for my wallet, I overheard a soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy lunch. ‘No, that seems like a lot of money for just a sack lunch. Probably wouldn’t be worth five bucks. I’ll wait till we get to base.’ His friend agreed.
I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch. I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty dollar bill. ‘Take a lunch to all those soldiers.’ She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. Her eyes w et with tears, she thanked me. ‘My son was a soldier in Iraq; it’s almost like you are doing it for him.’
Picking up ten boxes, she headed up the aisle to where the soldiers were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked, ‘Which do you like best – beef or chicken?’
‘Chicken,’ I replied, wondering why she asked. She turned and went to the front of plane, returning a minute later with a dinner plate from first class. ‘This is your thanks.’
After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the rest room. A man stopped me. ‘I saw what you did. I want to be part of it. Here, take this.’ He handed me twenty-five dollars.
Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Flight Captain coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he was not looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane. When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand and said, ‘I want to shake your hand.’ Quickly unfastening my seatbelt I stood and took the Captain’s hand. With a booming voice he said, ‘I was a soldier and I was a military pilot. Once, someone bought me a lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot.’ I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.
Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs. A man who was seated about six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine. He left another twenty-five dollars in my palm
When we landed I gathered my belongings and started to deplane. Waiting just inside the airplane door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word. Another twenty-five dollars!
Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to the base. I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five dollars. ‘It will take you some time to reach the base. It will be about time for a sandwich. God Bless You.’
Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow travelers.
As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our country. I could only give them a couple of meals. It seemed so little…
A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to ‘The United States of America’ for an amount of ‘up to and including my life.’
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.’
May God give you the strength and courage to pass this along to everyone on your email buddy list….
I JUST DID
There is nothing attached. Just send this to people in your address book. Do not let it stop with you. Of all the gifts you could give a Marine, Soldier, Sailor, Airman, & others deployed in harm’s way, prayer is the very best one.
JUST A COMMON SOLDIER [IN HONOR OF ALL VETERANS]
(A Soldier Died Today)
by A. Lawrence Vaincourt
He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion, telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, every one.
And tho’ sometimes, to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
All his Legion buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we’ll hear his tales no longer for old Bill has passed away,
And the world’s a little poorer, for a soldier died today.
He will not be mourned by many, just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary and quite uneventful life.
Held a job and raised a family, quietly going his own way,
And the world won’t note his passing, though a soldier died today.
When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell their whole life stories, from the time that they were young,
But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
A guy who breaks his promises and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow who, in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his Country and offers up his life?
A politician’s stipend and the style in which he lives
Are sometimes disproportionate to the service that he gives.
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal and perhaps, a pension small.
It’s so easy to forget them for it was so long ago,
That the old Bills of our Country went to battle, but we know
It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom that our Country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger, with your enemies at hand,
Would you want a politician with his ever-shifting stand?
Or would you prefer a soldier, who has sworn to defend
His home, his kin and Country and would fight until the end?
He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict, then we find the soldier’s part
Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.
If we cannot do him honor while he’s here to hear the praise,
Then at least let’s give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper that would say,
Our Country is in mourning, for a soldier died today.
© 1987 A. Lawrence Vaincourt
I’ll celebrate when the United States stops making any new veterans.
To my fellow veterans, survivors of the Reactionary Panic, Mystic Dread, Abstract Angst, and just plain Fear Itself that have made Americans, in Gore Vidal’s apt phrase, “among the most easily frightened people on earth.” I mean, if Deputy Dubya Bush — an AWOL Texas Air National Guardsman — and Five-Deferment Dick Cheney can scare the shit out of a country and plunge it into ruinous war and bankruptcy on an ideological whim, then anyone can. And so anyone will.
“The drama’s done. Why then does any one step forth? Because one did survive the wreck.” Herman Melville, Moby Dick
An Ancient Sailor’s Saga
(after the style of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”)
As Coleridge spoke in his Rime
A thoughtless sailor slew
An albatross: a lucky bird
Which brought a shunning from the herd
Of seamen in his crew
Condemned to wander for his crime
Until his story sold
Unlike the brave Odysseus
He sailed a vessel odious
To get back to the fold
To aid him on his tortured climb
His shipmates hung a gift:
Some dead bird meat around his neck
To signify a human wreck
Upon fate’s waves adrift
He sweltered in a humid clime
And froze on glacier ice
He starved for food; he dreamed of drink
Which only brought more time to think
Of penance and its price
He longed to live beyond his time
And come back from the dead
To sing strange songs of sad suspense
And lecture laughing lessons dense
With wisdom in his head
Instead he found his tale a mime
Of gestures proud and brash
Somewhere between his brain and mouth
His east and west went north to south
And left him talking trash
A solipsistic siren slime
Consumed him as he aged
To each accosted audience
He only reeked of prurience
Which drove them off enraged
The mariner had thoughts sublime
But those he could not tell
For one look at his rancid face
So terrified the human race
That none would stay to smell
His narrative earned not one dime
Just pennies in his jar
To fund his tedium and toil
He offered truth and got recoil
Thrown at him from afar
A better soul still in its prime
Could offer true remorse
But ugly innocence had left
His barren heart in pieces cleft
Which swayed him from his course
He lived, therefore, in dirt and grime
To beg a bath or meal
And wandered searching for the day
When from an errant mind some stray
Attention he could steal
Much like the acid, greenish lime
A bitter fruit he chewed
That kept the scurvy from his bones
But which, like blades of sharpened stones,
His soul’s own structure hewed
Thus never would the fragrant thyme
Dispel his saga’s stench
The lousy story of his life
Would make itself his only wife:
A wretched wanton wench
Although he worked with reasoned rhyme
And syllables that matched
No one would see through blinded eyes
Or hear with ears deaf to the cries
Of endings never hatched
And so this poet’s paradigm
Produced no planned release
But left him groping after sounds
With which sad Reason’s grace surrounds
A longing after peace
The author and the actor, I’m
The flotsam in this fray
Escaped alone to speak in vain
Of Ahab’s greatest love and pain
That drowned him one fine day
Michael Murry, “The Misfortune Teller,” Copyright 2005
A more nuanced discussion:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/chris-marvin-for-todays-veterans-service-isnt-over-when-the-uniform-is-put-away/2013/11/10/98ad9ab0-48b9-11e3-a196-3544a03c2351_story.html
“Many civilians may genuinely wish to have played a larger role in America’s recent conflicts — if only from the home front. In lieu of participation, they offer thanks. Society has normalized this practice, with the result that some Americans consider uttering thanks to be a fulfillment of their patriotic duties.”
I seem to run into a lot of people in the last group. As I said, your mileage may vary.
Happy Veterans Day!
To me there is nothing happy or festive about Veteran’s Day.
Also, it is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier not the tomb of the unknowns
I always thank veterans. I’m a pretty good reader of people and the consistent read I get is gratitude.
Tony C.,
Well, apparently we run in different crowds, because I hear the reaction that I reported a lot, including from retired career military officers.
As far as sincerity goes, my personal experience has been that I am much more likely to get that sort spontaneous expression of “gratitude” from people whose sincerity I have independent grounds to question.
Your mileage may vary. Hope you’re having a good day.
Most of my peers find the last more annoying than gratifying.
I am one of your peers (a veteran) and I do not find it annoying at all. What I find annoying is when somebody expresses sincere gratitude and a veteran translates that into an accusation of cowardice or selfishness. I would rather have people recognize risk and sacrifice than just ignore it; and if they DID just ignore it veterans would probably be miffed at that, too.
Just to be clear, my comment was not intended as a personal swipe at you, Professor Turley.
I appreciate the thought (I’m a veteran), but I really don’t understand the concept of a “happy” Veterans Day. It started out as Armistice Day after World War I, became Veterans Day after World War II, and is “celebrated” by such cheery activities as putting wreaths on deceased military members graves and, of course, giving discounts to active duty military members at electronics and furniture stores, and an endless parade of people who couldn’t be bothered to serve making themselves feel better about that by “thanking” veterans “for [their] service”. Most of my peers find the last more annoying than gratifying. The most common reaction I hear from my peers is, “Where the hell was that guy when there were papers to sign and work to be done?”