It is the VETERAN , not the preacher,
who has given us freedom of religion.
who has given us freedom of religion.
It is the VETERAN , not the reporter,
who has given us freedom of the press.
who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the VETERAN , not the poet,
who has given us freedom of speech.
who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the VETERAN , not the campus organizer,
who has given us freedom to assemble.
who has given us freedom to assemble.
It is the VETERAN , not the lawyer,
who has given us the right to a fair trial.
who has given us the right to a fair trial.
It is the VETERAN , not the politician,
who has given us the right to vote.
who has given us the right to vote.
It is the VETERAN, who salutes the Flag,
It is the veteran, who serves under the Flag!
ETERNAL REST GRANT THEM O LORD, AND
LET PERPETUAL LIGHT SHINE UPON THEM.
VETERANS KNOW THAT THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE HAS NO EXPIRATION DATE.
This message came in an email and the originator author is unknown.
This message came in an email and the originator author is unknown.
4 comments:
The small town where I grew up had a central round about with the county courthouse in the center. Service stations, (gas stations for you younger folk) adjoined the roundabout. The Gulf Station was owned and operated by a peglegged man. The pegleg was always frightening to little children (me included) who assumed the man was a pirate. As each child grew older, we learned that the man was no pirate but a Veteran of World War II. He lost his leg in the Pacific.
In my adult life, one of my better friends and co-workers was an "old" Marine Sergeant. The Marines had been his life and he was just a little bitter about getting washed out because he too had left a leg in the Pacific, more specifically, in Vietnam.
This Veterans Day, I'm also thinking of those thousands of soldiers and Marines who left a part of themselves in Iraq and Afghanistan. I pray that they have speedy recoveries and live full and complete lives without bitterness and knowing the love and appreciation of their country.
We buried a young Marine in my town last week. He came from an old family in these parts. He died serving his country while in Iraq.
The photo in the local newspaper showed the Marine's bereaved family seated graveside as the flag was presented to the father.
In addition to the grief and bereavement the photo showed a hint of another emotion. They were proud of their young man who had given his life for his country.
I thought about old Sergeant Major Jaureleski today. Imagine a guy, 6’-3” or 4”, built like 2-55 gallon drums, one on top of the other, walking down a sidewalk toward you! It made you want to step off the sidewalk, stop, and let him walk by; without looking at him in the eyes. One would never refer to him as just Sergeant Major. He was “Command Sergeant Major Jauerleski", period! You didn’t dare call him anything else, especially, Sir!
This guy spoke German, Polish, Russian, and a version of English that made you cringe because every other word was a curse straight from HELL itself!
He joined the fight at the end of WWII at the ripe age of 16 – actually saw action in Europe. His family were refugees from Poland, living in England. He served in N. Korea also.
He walked with a limp because on his right foot was the ugliest hunk of leather boot you ever saw. During one of his 3 tours in Vietnam, as a Ranger and Green Beret, while rappelling into the jungle from a Huey, his rope broke and he fell about 60 feet or so. It really mangled his foot. The Army tried to force him out but he refused. He always said that his mission in life was to serve in the greatest Army in history – the American Army.
One of the most enjoyable experiences in my life was to go to the NCO club, sit down with CSM Jaureleski and have a few beers. He was the most noble, kindest man I’ve ever met.
Great post guys.
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