Honoring our soldiers

D

Digger

Guest
TRL, please make this a sticky.

With the amount of attention Michael Jackson's death has gotten, I'd like to give some attention to all the men and women who died for our freedom. Without their sacrifice, Michael Jackson wouldn't even get to dream about singing in front of thousands of adoring fans.

The way I see it, every soldier's death is ten times more important than Michael Jackson's death.

This website (http://www.militarycity.com/valor/honor.html) has a list and (if avaliable) a photograph of every soldier who has died since the beginning of operations in Afghanistan on October 7, 2001.

God bless America, and god bless the brave men and women of the United States Armed Forces. Thank you all for your sacrifice. :salute:
 
If this doesn't make you proud and bring a tear to your eye, please move the hell out of the U.S.A., cause we don't want ya here!!!

Killed in action the week before, the body of Staff Sergeant First John C. Beale was returned to Falcon Field in Peachtree City , Georgia , just south of Atlanta , on June 11, 2009 . The Henry County Police Department escorted the procession to the funeral home in McDonough , Georgia . A simple notice in local papers indicated the road route to be taken and the approximate time.

Nowadays one can be led to believe that America no longer respects honor and no longer honors sacrifice outside the military. Be it known that there are many places in this land where people still recognize the courage and impact of total self-sacrifice. Georgia remains one of those graceful places. The link below is a short travelogue of that day's remarkable and painful journey. But only watch this if you wish to have some of your faith in people restored.


http://blip.tv/play/AYGJ5h6YgmE
 
GodBlessTroops.jpg
 
God bless America, and god bless the brave men and women of the United States Armed Forces. Thank you all for your sacrifice. :salute:

Well said, Digger. Last week, I won a swag basket from Brad K and donated it to his CFF foundation supporting our fine servicemen and women. I like to imagine a young son of a service person enjoying a day at the races with his mom and dad, and playing with a diecast while he waits for them to get home.
 
In the past two weeks my brother has had mortar fire fly DIRECTLY over his head and landing approx 15 meters behind him and a couple days later he hit an IED, blowing the left front suspension away from the vehicle.

It's still scary out there.
 
Merry Christmas My Friend
By James M. Schmidt, a Marine Lance Corporal
stationed in Washington, D.C., in 1986


Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I'd seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I'd heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I'd just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps."

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night's chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn't want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said "Carry on, Santa, it's Christmas Day, all secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.
 
This is a great forum! we most definitely need to remember those men and women who put themselves out there for our freedom more often.
Thank you to all the military people out there. God Bless
 
I am a veteran and damn proud I served. Just had the unfortunate duty during Nam. Many of us at the time were shunned, spat upon and ridiculed.
I wore my uniform with pride in spite of the antis and the ones that berated me got New Yorked in spades. For those of you who don't know what it is to get NYed. When I get done NYing you, your ears are bleeding profusely.
My hat is off to all veterans and my prayers are with them daily, for their safety and the safety of their loved ones left behind.

Some of you may know and for the ones that don't. There is a group of people in Maine that greet every flight, out bound and in bound carrying troops.
Bangor is a fuel stop and the troops are met with hugs, handshakes, food, drink, free cell phone use to call their families and just about anything a trooper could want or need. These people are there no matter the day of the week or the time of day. Their support is undying and an honor to our troops.
I make it a point to stop a veteran and uniformed troop when I see them and thank them for the sacrifices they take to keep us the free nation we are.

I didn't mean for this to be my soap box, but just needed to get a couple things off my chest.

God bless America and all the veterans and active duty troops who help keep us the greatest country in the world. Thank you.
 
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