Lest We Forget

Gopher

New member
Words from David Hackworth:

'Lest we forget'

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Another Memorial Day is upon us. Not that it's that big a deal to most Americans, who don't seem to understand what this holiday is all about. But for combat veterans and their families, it's a day of reflection, a time to honor fallen comrades.

As the years pass, M-Day's taken on an even more special meaning for me. Old pals who back in their young and foolish days were brave mud soldiers are checking out faster than I want to count.

Almost every week now I get the word that another brother's gone. Sometimes it's a phone call in the middle of the night, a letter or an obituary piece I've been sent about a friend I fought alongside.

Each death notice brings pain. Some bring tears. All bring reflection that dials up the face of a brother I grew to love a long time ago. A love born from terrible strife where we had the searing privilege of getting to know each other as few men ever do.

Back then, we thought we were damned to be the chosen few. But now, so many years later, we know the truth: It was the defining and most challenging period of our lives.

Together, we saw the elephant.

On the battlefield there's no faking it. A guy is either a good man who'd die before letting his brothers down or a dud the outfit figures out how to unload. You get to join The Brotherhood only if you're trusted, only because you've earned the respect of the other elephant hunters.

For me, after the shock wears off from hearing the bad news, reason sets in: "Eventually, everyone's going out feet first. My old friend just beat me by a few ticks."

Next, the process seems to move quickly to the good times shared and why my pal was so special and why his memory won't disappear until I do.

Then I'm ringing a brother, giving him word of the death, and we start in with the old "Remember when ..." jazz, retelling all the fun stuff about our fallen mate. We never dwell on the horror or go to the dark side of the moon. Maybe that's how we keep it together and move on.

Another thought that always comes front and center in my head is why did Frank or Billy or Phil die now and not me? This was the question we all silently asked ourselves back on the battlefield when a comrade didn't get up after a fight. It didn't seem fair then, and it doesn't now. But whoever said this crap game called life was fair?

The loved ones of World War II and the Korean vets are hearing "Taps" played at funerals at the rate of almost 2,000 a day, and now the Vietnam vets are stepping up for their turn at the death plate. The combat-vet dying business has become a boom industry and will continue to roar for the next couple of decades until the ranks are exhausted.

And by then, M-Day might have morphed further into a meaningless extended weekend party, no longer even momentarily interrupted by glimpses of flags or sound bites from politicians jawing some insincere patriotic gobbledygook. Only the still-serving and families and friends of the departed will still care about what our warriors went through, the sacrifices they made.

Seems like we're almost there now. Liberty and the good life are so taken for granted that few folks can be bothered to spend M-Day remembering -- honoring those who died so we could be free to do our thing. No one's had to buy a freedom ticket for a long time, and the living's easy. Minimum wage, Social Security, a college degree -- all that good American stuff -- are there pretty much for the asking. No price of admission paid. No respect for those who did pay. Just gimme gimme gimme.

I'm afraid one of these days soon some fast operator will come along and try to change Memorial Day into something else. You know, a name change due to a new sponsor.

Hope you'll kill that ignoble idea quick smart and that you'll visit a Veterans Home this week and tell those valiant men and women you haven't forgotten their sacrifices.


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Col. David Hackworth is co-author of the 1989 international best-seller, "About Face," and the subsequent "Brave Men" and "Hazardous Duty." His latest book, available from WorldNetDaily, is "Price of Honor."
 

DorGunR

New member
What is a Veteran?

WHAT IS A VET? Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a
missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the
evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of
shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally
forged in the refinery of adversity. Except in parades, however, the men and
women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet
just by looking. What is a vet? He is the cop on the beat who spent six
months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored
personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel. He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber
than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed
a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery
near the 38th parallel. She - or he - is the nurse who fought against
futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't
come back AT ALL.
He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat- but has saved
countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members
into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals
with a prosthetic hand. He is the career quartermaster who watches the
ribbons and medals pass him by. He is the three anonymous heroes in
The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National
Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes
whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's
sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and
aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who
wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the
nightmares come. He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a
person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country,
and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.
He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing
more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever
known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country,
just lean over and say "Thank You." That's all most people need, and in most
cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were
awarded. Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU".


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"Lead, follow or get the HELL out of the way."
 
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