In Honor…Veterans Day 2012
From my friend Dave Stone:
The officer stood framed in the doorway, looked over the class of cadets, and began to speak.
“Cadets, look around you at these walls. The portraits you see are the great heroes of this country. Eisenhower, Patton, Marshall, Grant, Jackson: great leaders all, but not the true heroes of this country. For these people, while they led armies into battle, actually planned the campaigns, and waited for the results. The true Americans heroes were the thousands of men and women under their command, the soldiers and sailors who fought and died, pushed forward and fell back, won…and lost battles.
Read the rest at: http://davestone1.wordpress.com/2012/11/11/heroes/
This is one blog I will recommend hands down that you follow. It contains some of the best writing on WordPress (or anywhere else).
Why they deserve our honor.
This morning I was taken out of my comfortable can and brought into another world by David Zeitz. Please listen.
Commentator David Zeitz was a “sapper” in Afghanistan. He detected and disassembled mines. He tells the story of a colleague who was seriously injured just feet away from him on a minefield.
Hear the complete story on the NPR web site: http://www.npr.org/2012/11/12/164940220/veteran-of-afghan-war-searched-for-deadly-landmines
For The Fallen
by Robert Laurence Binyon
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.