How Do Ya Know?

[OhioCouple]

Originally posted by tinceltoes
I am a spouse of a military husband that will soon be leaving for South West Asia, as of the first week of next month. I have had mixed emotions on this. He is going for one hundred twenty days or more, depending on the job. I know where he is going is very dangerous but I also know that he will be fighting for our country. That was the main reason why he signed up for the military.

To all of the Military Families out there who have a soldier in war, My prayers will always be with you on a safe return.

And our prayers are with your family also.

Mrs. O

[wrnakedru]

The Third Infantry Regiment at Fort Myer has the responsibility for providing ceremonial units and honor guards for state occasions, White House social functions, public celebrations and interments at Arlington National Cemetery....and standing a very formal sentry watch at the Tombs
of the Unknowns.

The public is familiar with the precision of what is called "walking post" at the Tombs. There are roped off galleries where visitors can form to observe the troopers and their measured step and almost mechanical silent rifle shoulder changes.

They are relieved every hour in a very formal drill that has to be seen to believe. Some people think that when the Cemetery is closed to the public in the evening that this show stops.

First, to the men who who are dedicated to this work...it is no show...it is a "charge of honor".The formality and precision continues uninterrupted all night.

During the nighttime, the drill of relief and the measured step of the on duty sentry remain unchanged from the daylight hours. To these men...these special men, the continuity of this post is the key to the honor and respect shown to these honored dead, symbolic of all American unaccounted for American combat dead.

The steady rhythmic step in rain, sleet, snow, hail, hot, cold...bitter cold...uninterrupted...uninterrupted is the important part of the honor shown..

Last night, while you were sleeping, the teeth of hurricane Isabel came through this area and tore hell out of everything... We have thousands of trees down...power outages...traffic signals out...roads filled with down limbs and "gear adrift" debris...We have flooding...and the place looks like it has been the impact area of an off shore bombardment.

The Regimental Commander of the U.S. Third Infantry sent word to the nighttime Sentry Detail to secure the post and seek shelter from the high winds, to ensure their personal safety. THEY DISOBEYED THE ORDER...During winds that turned over vehicles and turned debris into projectiles...the measured step continued. One fellow said "I've got buddies getting shot at in Iraq who would kick my butt if word got to them that we let them down...I'm sure as hell have no intention of spending my Army career being known as the goddam idiot who couldn't stand a little light breeze and shirked his duty." ....Then he said something in response to a female reporters question regarding silly purposeless personal risk...."I wouldn't expect you to understand. it's an enlisted man's thing."

God Bless the rascal...In a time in our nation's history when spin and total bullshit seems to have become the accepted coin-of-the-realm, there beat hearts...the enlisted hearts we all knew and were so damn proud to be a part of....that fully understand that devotion to duty is not a part time occupation. While we slept, we were represented by some damn fine men who fully understood their post orders and proudly went about their assigned responsibilities unseen, unrecognized and in the finest tradition of the American Enlisted Man.

Folks, there's hope....The gene that George S. Patton...Arliegh Burke and Jimmy Doolittle left us...survives. ....More....

On the ABC evening news, it was reported tonight that, because of the dangers from Hurricane Isabel approaching Washington, DC, the military members assigned the duty of guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier were given permission to suspend the assignment.

They refused. "No way, Sir!"Soaked to the skin, marching in the pelting rain of a tropical storm, they said that guarding the Tomb was not just an assignment, it was the highest honor that can be afforded to a service person.

The tomb has been patrolled continuously, 24/7, since 1930.

[Texan1]

I am a retired Army Officer, and I want to thank all of those currently serving and those that have served in the Armed Forces.

We did not have this support during the Viet Nam war.

[C@YWMI]

Please accept my thank you for your service in Vietnam. If it wasn't for your service and the knowledge of our Vietnam Veterans. We wouldn't be the well trained and modern Army that it is today. Your service in country and your support now is what makes the Army what it is today. Thank-You

Sure wish we had a smiley that saluted.

[OhioCouple]

Originally posted by Texan1
I am a retired Army Officer, and I want to thank all of those currently serving and those that have served in the Armed Forces.

We did not have this support during the Viet Nam war.

Welcome to the board Texan1 ! Let me join C@Y with a thank you for your service! I was raised military and have a herd of a new generation of family in the service now. Hopefully we have learned something from the wrongs that were committed during the Vietnam war. Please know that I was NEVER a part of that unappreciation.

We have an abundance of past service members on this board and you are most welcome here, as you were welcome to us then!

And you are right, C@Y....we need a salute smilie!

[sophiadan50]

I loved this post and the replies. With the Holiday's approaching people seem to get somewhat depressed, especially if they are short of money or lost a loved one recently. I have found that by being kind and spending some time with someone that is older, or lonely, it makes you feel almost as good as it did them.

[wrnakedru]

I watched the flag pass by one day,
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young Marine saluted it,
And then he stood at ease..

I looked at him in uniform
So young, so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert
He'd stand out in any crowd.

I thought how many men like him
Had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil
How many mothers' tears?

How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No, freedom isn't free.

I heard the sound of Taps one night,
When everything was still,
I listened to the bugler play
And felt a sudden chill.

I wondered just how many times
That Taps had meant "Amen,"
When a flag had draped a coffin.
Of a brother or a friend.

I thought of all the children,
Of the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands
With interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard
At the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No, freedom isn't free.

Enjoy Your Freedom & God Bless Our Troops

[wrnakedru]

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. [He was] very neat in appearance but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischieviousness delightful.

Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving: "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"

It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!" No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."

Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me. The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.

I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said, without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

By: Sister Helen P. Mrosla



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The purpose of posting this here is to encourage everyone to compliment the people you love and care about. We tend to forget the importance of showing our admiration, gratitude and love. The small effort required to express appreciation can mean more than we can guess or know. The pace of day to day life is so fast and the density of people in society is so thick that we sometimes fail to remember that life is finite, and will end - we rarely know when. Tell those you love and care for that they are special and important. Tell them often, while you can - so that you don't have the pain of regret that you didn't when the chance to do so is gone. Don't assume they know - give them the "hug" of telling them so.

[Uneed_Love]

Originally posted by wrnakedru
....Tell them often, while you can - so that you don't have the pain of regret that you didn't when the chance to do so is gone. Don't assume they know - give them the "hug" of telling them so.

The main regret I have is for not having enough said to my beloved dad how much he was important for me and how much I loved him (and still do). He died 19 years ago in 1985 at the age of 63... and I still miss him and the man I am still cries sometimes for his loss.

To all the soldiers who died in Iraq I send my prayers but I also shout my hate of all those useless wars all around the planet which are ruining the lives of young peoples and let families desperated and crying.

Wars are not the result of an inexorable destiny, wars are the result of the tremendous greediness of some human beings who always want more power and money... Wars are the result of a stupid mankind's behaviour which just brings sorrow and pain.

May, one day, Human beings - of this planet Earth - live in Peace and Harmony all together. AMEN!

JC

[mrbandsatl]

Thank you all for this thread - at times, difficult to read -- if only for our own shortcomings. Truly touching...

Bob and Sandy

[cek]

don't know how I got to this sction or post
but here is my .2cents

LOVE,
how can we have sex and a good time
and ignore the one near us
that just needs the love of a word or two.

Me thinks we are in a concentration camp at time
where we have strung up the barbed wire
and locked the gates on ourselves.

Reach out and touch that person near you.
Let that be done that needs to be done.

I did not reply to a fellow that I think wanted to stay the night
and it has been eating away at me all day.

Thanks for this time to express that we are much more
than folks that like to have fun sexually,
we also know how to love our neighbor
and even the person we do not know.

HUGs

cek