Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC

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".

Remember November 11th is Veterans Day

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A PRAYER FOR THE TROOPS:

O God of Mercy, we beg You now to protect in a special way those who are fighting for us and for the country we love. Bless them and take care of them. If they are tired, give them strength. If they are wounded and suffering, give them comfort. If they are lonely, touch them with Your gentle hand and let them know that You are near them. Grant them strength, wisdom and help through Your power and Your limitless love. Amen.

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I'm not sure who the author is but it is beautiful, isn't it !!!! Lynne

The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass,
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"

The soldier squared his shoulders and
said, "No, Lord, I guess I ain't,

Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough,
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep,

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear,
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here,
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand,
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."

There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod,
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well,
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."

-Anon-

Many stories have been written about the heroic acts of four Army Chaplains aboard a troop transport ship on its way to Greenland. One such story follows. It was written by Victor M. Parachin, an ordained minister, counselor and free-lance writer.

It was the evening of Feb. 2, 1943, and the U.S.A.T. Dorchester was crowded to capacity, carrying 902 servicemen, merchant seamen and civilian workers.

Once a luxury coastal liner, the 5,649-ton vessel had been converted into an Army transport ship. The Dorchester, one of three ships in the SG-19 convoy, was moving steadily across the icy waters from Newfoundland toward an American base in Greenland. SG-19 was escorted by Coast Guard Cutters Tampa, Escanaba and Comanche.

Hans J. Danielsen, the ship's captain, was concerned and cautious. Earlier the Tampa had detected a submarine with its sonar. Danielsen knew he was in dangerous waters even before he got the alarming information. German U-boats were constantly prowling these vital sea lanes, and several ships had already been blasted and sunk.

The Dorchester was now only 150 miles from its destination, but the captain ordered the men to sleep in their clothing and keep life jackets on. Many soldiers sleeping deep in the ship's hold disregarded the order because of the engine's heat. Others ignored it because the life jackets were uncomfortable.

On Feb. 3, at 12:55 a.m., a periscope broke the chilly Atlantic waters. Through the cross hairs, an officer aboard the German submarine U-223 spotted the Dorchester. After identifying and targeting the ship, he gave orders to fire the torpedoes. The hit was decisive--and deadly--striking the starboard side, amid ship, far below the water line.

Danielsen, alerted that the Dorchester was taking water rapidly and sinking, gave the order to abandon ship. In less than 27 minutes, the Dorchester would slip beneath the Atlantic's icy waters.

Tragically, the hit had knocked out power and radio contact with the three escort ships. The CGC Comanche, however, saw the flash of the explosion. It responded and then rescued 97 survivors. The CGC Escanaba circled the Dorchester, rescuing an additional 132 survivors. The third cutter, CGC Tampa, continued on, escorting the remaining two ships.

Aboard the Dorchester, panic and chaos had set in. The blast had killed scores of men, and many more were seriously wounded. Others, stunned by the explosion were groping in the darkness. Those sleeping without clothing rushed topside where they were confronted first by a blast of icy Arctic air and then by the knowledge that death awaited.

Men jumped from the ship into lifeboats, over-crowding them to the point of capsizing, according to eyewitnesses. Other rafts, tossed into the Atlantic, drifted away before soldiers could get in them.

Through the pandemonium, according to those present, four Army chaplains brought hope in despair and light in darkness. Those chaplains were Lt. George L. Fox, Methodist; Lt. Alexander D. Goode, Jewish; Lt. John P. Washington, Roman Catholic; and Lt. Clark V. Poling, Dutch Reformed.

Quickly and quietly the four chaplains spread out among the soldiers. There they tried to calm the frightened, tend the wounded and guide the disoriented toward safety.

"Witnesses of that terrible night remember hearing the four men offer prayers for the dying and encouragement for those who would live," says Wyatt R. Fox, son of Reverend Fox.

One witness, Private William B. Bednar, found himself floating in oil-smeared water surrounded by dead bodies and debris. "I could hear men crying, pleading, praying," Bednar recalls. "I could also hear the chaplains preaching courage. Their voices were the only thing that kept me going."

Another sailor, Petty Officer John J. Mahoney, tried to reenter his cabin but was stopped by Rabbi Goode. Mahoney, concerned about the cold Arctic air, explained he had forgotten his gloves.

"Never mind," Goode responded. "I have two pairs." The rabbi then gave the petty officer his own gloves. In retrospect, Mahoney realized that Rabbi Goode was not conveniently carrying two pairs of gloves, and that the rabbi had decided not to leave the Dorchester.

By this time, most of the men were topside, and the chaplains opened a storage locker and began distributing life jackets. It was then that Engineer Grady Clark witnessed an astonishing sight.

When there were no more lifejackets in the storage room, the chaplains removed theirs and gave them to four frightened young men.

"It was the finest thing I have seen or hope to see this side of heaven," said John Ladd, another survivor who saw the chaplains' selfless act.

Ladd's response is understandable. The altruistic action of the four chaplains constitutes one of the purest spiritual and ethical acts a person can make. When giving their life jackets, Rabbi Goode did not call out for a Jew; Father Washington did not call out for a Catholic; nor did the Reverends Fox and Poling call out for a Protestant. They simply gave their life jackets to the next man in line.

As the ship went down, survivors in nearby rafts could see the four chaplains--arms linked and braced against the slanting deck. Their voices could also be heard offering prayers.

Of the 902 men aboard the U.S.A.T. Dorchester, 672 died, leaving 230 survivors. When the news reached American shores, the nation was stunned by the magnitude of the tragedy and heroic conduct of the four chaplains.

"Valor is a gift," Carl Sandburg once said. "Those having it never know for sure whether they have it until the test comes."

That night Reverend Fox, Rabbi Goode, Reverend Poling and Father Washington passed life's ultimate test. In doing so, they became an enduring example of extraordinary faith, courage and selflessness.

The Distinguished Service Cross and Purple Heart were awarded posthumously December 19, 1944, to the next of kin by Lt. Gen. Brehon B. Somervell, Commanding General of the Army Service Forces, in a ceremony at the post chapel at Fort Myer, VA.

A posthumous Special Medal for Heroism, never before given and never to be given again, was authorized by Congress and awarded by the President January 18, 1961. Congress wished to confer the Medal of Honor but was blocked by the stringent requirements which required heroism performed under fire. The special medal was intended to have the same weight and importance as the Medal of Honor.

Was It Worth It??
Written by... Mike Daley

How many times have we asked ourselves that?

We have been through hell and back, and somehow survived, we have since travelled a troubled path, with jobs that come and go, relationships, marriages that fall apart. Pain, heartache, sometimes feeling isolated, I could go on, but we know, we’ve been there.

Then one day, some how, there comes something special. The path we have taken, has lead us here. If I could go back and change the past, would I be where I am right now, would I have the wife I have now, and the children I have now, If I was to re-right my history, would I not erase the present, and loose al I have now.

I must share this with you, this weekend I went off roading and camping with 2 of my sons, Jack 8 and George 5. It was a glorious day, sunny dry, perfect.

We set up camp on the top of a hill, beautiful views, idyllic surroundings. We had a great cook up, talked about anything and everything, and soon the boys got tired, and we all settled down for the night. All was peaceful, but not for too long. Around 2am, we were hit by one of the worst storms I have ever been out in, the thunder sounded like incoming artillery, the lighting turned the night to day, non stop for 3 hours, the wind was around force 10, and rain hit us like a fire hose. George slept on throughout, Jack was wide awake, but remained unbelievably calm.

I decided to get out of the tent, and make it more secure, I told Jack I wouldn’t be long, so there I was, getting soaked through, freezing with every hit of the rain, taking in a sharp breath with the coldness of it all, more tent pegs, more guy ropes, even tying it to the Landrover.

I suddenly became aware that I was not alone, I jumped round and there was Jack, hammering in pegs, and tying guy lines, I said “Jack get back in the tent”, he looked at me and said, “no dad, were a team” I was speechless for a second or two. He carried on, so did I, when I was sure that all was secure, we both dived into the tent. By now soaked through, cold, shivering, and laughing, about the thought of the tent turning into a hang glider!!! Jack said “taking of would be fun, but it’s the landing I worried about!” I wonder where he gets his sense of humour from!!! LOL

George was still asleep. We got rid of the wet clothes, changed, into dry kit, and snuggled down after a well deserved mug of hot chocolate.

The morning came, the sun came up, after what seemed like a very long night, all was quiet, it started to dry out, and get warm.

So breakfast was the priority.

Bacon, eggs, sausages, beans, mushrooms, black pudding, the works, Jacks choice.

George woke up after smelling the food, and announced to the world, I’m still tired, Jack and I looked at each other and laughed. I felt so proud of Jack.

The next day we broke camp, we sat around for one last cook up, and I looked at my two boys, tired, kinda grubby, muddy trousers, (mum wouldn’t approve LOL) but they had smiles and the sparkle in their eyes that was priceless.

We travelled home to be greeted by my youngest Ross (2), he shouted DADDY!!!!!!!!!, and ran and jumped into my arms, and gave me the biggest hug and kiss ever, and then hugged his brothers.

Kirsty my wife was told of the adventures and the storm, and the off-roading by the boys, in non stop excited talking. We were home, she couldn’t believe how dirty we all were, but she could see how happy we were.

So the point of all this, why I am I sharing this with you?

I have on more than one occasion not wanted to carry on, I could not see the point of life, living or a future. But somehow carried on, survived through the dark times. If I had given up, what would I be missing now? If I had given up, my sons would not exist!!

This is just a brief insight into my life, that has some very precious moments, that would not have happened, if I had not travelled the path that I have taken.

So for all the sh*t that I had to go through, was it worth it? Take a look at me with my boys, and ask yourself that. There can only be one answer.

If this happy outcome can happen to me, it can happen to anyone.

I still have my good and bad days, I cant pretend that I don’t get down sometimes, or as Cherry( Scott) put it, in a tail spin! But overall, the good things, the love from, and for my family, pulls me through.

I sincerely hope this is of some inspiration to some of you guys, because this is not fairy tale, its not Hollywood, its just pure and simple real life for a real guy, just like any of you.

I wish you all peace, and pray you find love and happiness.

Yours

Mikey (On one of my good days, that I wanted to share with my brothers and sisters

This message has been edited. Last edited by: VietVetArmyReservMOM,

Inspired in part by Mike but from a VN Vets point of view.

If we knew then what we do now?

Was It Worth It??

How many times have we asked ourselves that?

We have been through places we describe as hell, survived to come back home to a place that had changed. Part of that change was in ourselves. We had learned that no place was safe. We have learned a new meaning for anger, for sorrow, for what is important to us. The making of life and death decisions had changed us. We no longer fit into the uninformed masses content with their trivial concerns. We somehow survived and have traveled a troubled path living with memories.

Everything we have had since our path thru hell seemed to have a temporary existence including: the jobs that come and go, the human relationships with others that have been affected and the marriages that fall apart. The items we collect as possessions lack no more value than the effort to smash them when we are angry enough. Even the places that we call home seem to exist more in our memory than it does in our present. Our present seems inadequate to hold the pain, the heartache of feeling alone even in a crowded room. Our differences leave us feeling isolated from others except for the select few that traveled the same hard path that we have been on. The list of things that do not seem to be normal and a natural part of life seems endless when you start adding them up.

There comes a day when looking back is all we seem to have. We look down a path of life in search of meaning and purpose that makes our path of life useful and reflects our contribution. The end of our journey thru life has only a short distance to the end and a longer look backwards. The failures seem to occupy considerable space on that long path already traveled. The mistakes that we made litter the path seeming as obvious as towering inaccessible mountain peaks on a flat land.

The long road of our lives was an untrodden path. We had to break trail where there was no safe passage. Our world was threatened with a total destruction. Conflicts in any place took on global consequences. The elimination of the human race and most of the living species on Earth was a very real possibility. The threat had to be confronted by limited responses to avoid a larger holocaust of destruction. The concept of limited engagement was created. The mistakes that were made seem to be something we could have seen and then avoided.

We struggle to account for the mistakes on some personal level. Suppose we could go back and change things? What if we had to chose the person who took the risks? What if we had to point at someone else and said that you are going to die in my place so I can live? Suppose you had choose who would suffer so you did not have to? If you could change things, would you be able to do it and then live with it? If you could erase the past, then the present would simply not exist. Any changes in the past including the small changes have a connection effect with all other things. Those of us who apparently did nothing may have prevented someone else from doing something that would have altered everything we know. If we truly did nothing, would there be anyone left of our culture and beliefs to look back and ponder the choices made? Would we simply have been destroyed as the unfit because we were unwilling to sacrifice anything to save anything of ourselves?

The path we have made has led us here to a place where others must now presume to face the new threats and to break a new pathway for those who shall follow them. If we could go back and change the past erasing all of the mistakes, who would be left to learn from those errors and continue on with the struggle of living? We humans are a temporary influence on our world. We create, procreate and we destroy. We preserve and we take lives. We write history good and bad.

The creatures of our world live and die existing on the need to collect the next meal, procreate to continue the existence of the species and then die. We humans are the only form of life capable of pondering the meaning of life. We are not the only species to live, to suffer and to die but we are the only ones to give honors to our dead and our wounded. We are not the only species that exists to live or die by taking the life of something else, but we are the only species that attempts to either justify it or call it inhumane. We are the only species capable of pondering the meaning of life.

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Message From A Wanderer of the PTSD Road
Scott Insley
VN Veteran 1967-68

Original post was by PreacherMedic in response to a friend of a newly suffering PTSDer. The friend was asking for things to send to help inspire the hard road sufferer.

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I have read the Bible through several times, but the following Psalm didn't really resonate with me until I was deployed to Iraq. It was a great source of comfort to my soul and strength to my faith. Sometimes we just have to "let go, and let God".

Psalm 91...Sometimes called "The Soldier's Psalm"

The Protection of the Most High

1 The one who lives under the protection
of the Most High
dwells in the shadow of the Almighty.

2 I will say to the Lord, "My refuge
and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust."

3 He Himself will deliver you
from the hunter's net,
from the destructive plague.

4 He will cover you with His feathers;
you will take refuge under His wings.
His faithfulness will be
a protective shield.

5 You will not fear the terror of the night,
the arrow that flies by day,

6 the plague that stalks in darkness,
or the pestilence that ravages
at noon.

7 Though a thousand fall at your side
and ten thousand at your right hand,
the pestilence will not reach you.

8 You will only see it with your eyes
and witness the punishment
of the wicked.

9 Because you have made the Lord---
my refuge,
the Most High---your dwelling place,
10 no harm will come to you;
no plague will come near your tent.

11 For He will give His angels orders
concerning you,
to protect you in all your ways.

12 They will support you
with their hands
so that you will not strike your foot
against a stone.

13 You will tread on the lion
and the cobra;
you will trample the young lion
and the serpent.

14 Because he is lovingly devoted to Me,
I will deliver him;
I will exalt him because he knows
My name.

15 When he calls out to me, I will
answwer him;
I will be with him in trouble.
I will rescue him and give him honor.

16 I will satisfy him with a long life
and show him My salvation.

Original post by Preachermedic on Sept. 8, 2005

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The convoy north from Kuwait to our destination in Iraq was scheduled to take three and a half days. My friend and I were designated as CASEVAC, meaning that if anything happened along the way needing a medic, we were it. It was a long, grueling, stressful trip.

Our briefings before we left Kuwait included watching the roadsides for possible IEDs. They came in many shapes and sizes and disguised as just about anything, typically as "road trash." An IED could easily be placed in a discarded MRE package or a dead dog carcass or even a small fresh mound of dirt in the middle of the road. There was so much trash on the roads that it was near impossible to watch it all. "Charlie Abdullah Terrorist" knew this and uses it to his great advantage.

We spent our last night of the convoy at an outpost called Camp Speicher somewhere near Tikrit. They put us on the backside of the compound to draw away some of the mortar fire from themselves. They were constantly barraged with fire anyway, but to have convoys parked in their backdoor would only make things worse.

We fueled our vehicles and lined them up in our assigned lanes for an early start the next morning. Our marching orders were for an 0730 pull out. Many of the troops put their cots out in between the line of vehicles so that they were facing their buddies parallel to them on the other line. Some slept in their vehicles. My buddy and I were fortunate in that we slept in the back of our humvee troop carrier/CASEVAC vehicle. It was cozily fortified with kevlar pallets on the sides and on the floor. It wouldn't keep a mortar round out, but it blocked the cold March Iraqi wind that blew constantly. By 2000 hours everyone had eaten their supper (an MRE) and was bedded down for the night.

Later that night a transportation unit pulled in beside us. It wasn't hard to miss the sounds of the big rigs with their large purring diesel motors and hissing brakes as their huge tires crunched gravel. I didn't hear them leave the next morning but they were gone when we got up.

Everyone was up early and ready to roll by 0730 but by 0830 we were still in place. We were getting 'antsy'. What was the hold-up? We were all ready to get the trip over with. Then word came down that the transportation unit that had left out before us had gotten hit. They lost some people. That news really put us on edge. I walked up and down the line shaking hands with my friends and speaking to them, all the while wondering which of them I would have to work on that day. How many of my friends would I lose on this convoy? As I stared into their faces, I could see their anxiety and sense their fears. My heart was in my throat as I finally made it back to my vehicle. "Lord, is this my last day? Will I ever see my family again?"

I am a creature of habit. One of the habits I developed over time was daily Bible reading and prayer. My reading would consist of reading through a Bible book, chapter by chapter, day by day. This particular day I hadn't read my chapter or spent any time in prayer yet. My mind was buzzing with anxious thoughts. If we had left out before the transportation unit, that would have been us that got hit. That would have been us that lost friends. As I was thinking these things I was busily oiling the bolt on my weapon as if that would alleviate the situation. "You don't want to go into combat with a dry bolt!" "Medics are notorious for dry bolts." "Your weapon may misfire or jam if your bolt is too dry." "You haven't read the Word this morning or prayed." When I finished oiling my bolt and reassembling my weapon, I slipped my "Soldier's Bible" from my DCU pants cargo pocket. By this time my fear was at a fever pitch. "Lord, will we make it to Mosul?" "Will we lose anyone along the way?" "Lord, is this 'my' day?" I needed reassurance in the worse way. I realized that I had actually been praying the whole time, pleading with the Lord.

I opened my Testament to that day's reading. It was Mark chapter 11. The title of the chapter was "Triumphal Entry". The Lord couldn't have spoken to me any more clear than if He had verbally spoken and reached out and tapped me on the shoulder. The chapter refers to Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, where people lined the roadsides shouting "Hosanna" and threw palm fronds in the road. I knew from that point beyond a shadow of a doubt (now) that the rest of our convoy would be without incident. That we ALL would arrive in one piece, the still future Baghdad U turn not withstanding.

We serve a God who is bigger than all our foes, bigger than all our fears, and holds our very life, breath and future within His power. When we are at our very "lowest" point, when we feel that no one else knows or cares, when we feel all alone and desperate, God is there beside us the whole time.

An unknown author penned the words to the following modern day parable:

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking
along the beach with the Lord. Across the sky flashed scenes from his
life. For each scene he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand;
one belonging to him and the other to the Lord.

When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked
back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along
the path of his life there was only one set of footprints. He also
noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his
life.

This really bothered him and he questioned the Lord about it.
"Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me
all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome
times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't
understand why when I needed you most you would leave me."

The Lord replied, "My child, I love you and I would never leave
you. During your times of trial and suffereing, when you only see one
set of footprints, it was then that I carried you."

Charlotte Elliott, a well known song writer of the 19th century wrote the words to a song that still stirs our hearts and souls today!


Just as I am! with-out one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me,

And that Thou bidd'st me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Just as I am! and wait-ing not To rid my soul of one dark blot,

To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Just as I am! tho' tossed a-bout With many a conflict, many a doubt,

With fears with-in, and foes with-out, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Just as I am! Thou wilt re-cieve, Wilt wel-come, pardon, cleanse, relieve;

Be-cause Thy prom-ise I be-lieve, O Lamb of God, I come! I come!


God Bless!

(PreacherMedic wrote...I wish I could say I wrote the following, but I didn't. However, it is so touching and appropriate that I felt I needed to share it.)

The author is Mike Atkinson whose website is Mikey'sfunnies.com. His son is a Marine with three years service and is on his way to Iraq in a couple of months.

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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.

So what is a vet?

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Iraq 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 drill instructor that has never seen combat--but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks, city boys/girls, 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 die 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.

They are fathers, mothers, grandfathers, grandmothers. Sisters and brothers. Aunts and uncles. The quiet ones who are your neighbors, who may not even fly the flag they served under, not shouting their victories or showing off their medals. They are the ones who know the smells that go along with the pictures and memories.

They are ordinary and yet extraordinary human beings, people who offered some of their life's most vital years in the service of their country, and who sacrificed their ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

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."

On November 14, 2005, Mike Daley wrote:

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This Sunday just past the 13th November 2005, was remembrance day.

This may sound strange, but i have not had the courage to attend, let alone march, in a remembrance parade. I try most of the year to forget, yet every day for me is a remembrance day. I don’t need it to be November to remember.

My son Jack who is 8, was attending the Remembrance Day parade as a cub scout, he had talked to me about this, and asked if he could wear my medals, to honour me and my friends that were lost.

I don’t have to tell you guys how hard and deep that hit, and what it meant to me, I think you can guess.

He later asked if i would come with him. It was a remarkable thing, that this young boy, my son, had given me the courage at last to face up to, and attend a remembrance day parade, and memorial service. I was full of fear, and apprehension.

I rummaged through my box in the garage, of all my old things, found my medals, both miniature, and full size, gave them a good clean up, and put them to one side.

Sunday came, Jack was dressed in his full Cub Scout uniform, he was off out the door, i called him back, I knelt in front of him, and pinned my miniature medals upon his uniform, adorned him with a poppy, and a huge hug, and a kiss. He looked at me, and reached out to touch my medals upon my chest, he said, i love you daddy, and i am so proud of you. Tears welled up in my eyes, i hugged him close, and kissed his head, and told him, that it was he that should feel proud of himself, as it was he that had given me this special day, after all this time.

The parade and the service came and went, moments of pride, recollection of times past, friends and comrades now no longer here, a whole roller coaster ride of emotions.

I met other veterans o many conflicts and wars that day, we all had a common bond, and link, and even though sometimes words were unspoken, you communicated volumes through and glance, and a knowing look.

This weekend was an important stage in my journey to find peace, on this long and winding road of PTSD.

It took an 8 year old to give me the strength, courage, and motivation to make that journey, towards some peace of mind. there is still a long way to go, but I take solace, in the fact, that i am not alone, i have my family, and I have you guys within this forum.

I wish you all love, peace, and can only offer my support to each and every one of you on your own journey.

You are in my thoughts and prayers.

Your brother

Mike

PreacherMedic's response to Mike's story:

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Mike
That was so touching! Thankyou for sharing it. What a great blessing our children are to us. God knows just what we need and often it is provided in the comfort given from our own children. Sometimes we have to be careful that we don't underestimate the impact that we have on their lives in the things we do and say. You have a great son, Mike. But of course you already know that! God bless you and your family.
preacher

Original Post by PreacherMedic:

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In my reading I ventured across the following touching story. I have read of a similar instance that occurred during the Civil War.

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** THE CHRISTMAS CAROL **
By Victor M. Parachin: Baptist Press

BIRMINGHAM, Ala. - When World War I erupted in 1914 launching the
first great European war of the 20th century, soldiers on both sides
were assured they would be home by Christmas to celebrate victory.
That prediction proved to be false.


The men on the fronts did not get home for Christmas as the war
dragged on for four years. During that time 8.5 million men were
killed, with hundreds of thousands more injured. The "war to end all
wars" took a horrific human toll and transformed Europe. However, on
Christmas Eve in December 1914 one of the most unusual events in
military history took place on the Western front.

On the night of Dec. 24 the weather abruptly became cold, freezing
the water and slush of the trenches in which the men bunkered. On the
German side, soldiers began lighting candles. British sentries
reported to commanding officers there seemed to be small lights
raised on poles or bayonets.


Although these lanterns clearly illuminated German troops, making
them vulnerable to being shot, the British held their fire. Even more
amazing, British officers saw through their binoculars that some
enemy troops were holding Christmas trees over their heads with
lighted candles in their branches. The message was clear: Germans,
who celebrated Christmas on the eve of Dec. 24, were extending
holiday greetings to their enemies.


Within moments of that sighting, the British began hearing a few
German soldiers singing a Christmas carol. It was soon picked up all
along the German line as other soldiers joined in harmonizing.


The words heard were these: "Stille nacht, heilige nacht." British
troops immediately recognized the melody as "Silent Night" quickly
neutralized all hostilities on both sides. One by one, British and
German soldiers began laying down their weapons to venture into no-
man's-land, a small patch of bombed-out earth between the two sides.

So many soldiers on both sides ventured out that superior officers
were prevented from objecting. There was an undeclared truce and
peace had broken out.


Frank Richards was an eyewitness of this unofficial truce. In his
wartime diary he wrote: "We stuck up a board with 'Merry Christmas'
on it. The enemy stuck up a similar one. Two of our men threw off
their equipment and jumped on the parapet with their hands above
their heads as two of the Germans did the same, our two going to meet
them.


"They shook hands and then we all got out of the trench and so did
the Germans," Richards said. Richards also explained that some
German soldiers spoke perfect English with one saying how fed up he
was with the war and how he would be glad when it was all over. His
British counterpart agreed.


That night, former enemy soldiers sat around a common campfire. They
exchanged small gifts from their meager belongings - chocolate bars,
buttons, badges and small tins of processed beef. Men who only hours
earlier had been shooting to kill were now sharing Christmas
festivities and showing each other family snapshots. The truce ended
just as it had begun, by mutual agreement.

Captain C.I. Stockwell of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers recalled how,
after a truly "Silent Night," he fired three shots into the air at
8:30 a.m. December 26 and then stepped up onto the trench bank. A
German officer who had exchanged gifts with Captain Stockwell the
previous night also appeared on a trench bank. They bowed, saluted
and climbed back into their trenches. A few minutes later, Captain
Stockwell heard the German officer fire two shots into the air.

The war was on again.

~~~Posted From: WITandWISDOM(tm) ASB: Debbie Yauch

God Bless,
preacher

Mike Daley's response to A CHRISTMAS CAROL:

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Preachermedic:

Thanks for that, and yes a very true story, well documented within history. It goes to show that people are just people, no matter where they are from, depsite differences.

Last Chritsmas my boys school did a Christmas carol service, one of the songs they sang was silent night, then they sang it in German to commerate this event, with candles and a small Christmas tree held aloft. It was very very moving, i had tears in my eyes.

So are we just one small cluster of humanity on this spinning around on this tiny rock, separted by politics, religion, flags, borders, idealism, beliefs.Big Big question!!!

Whatever you believe this story of WW1 just shows that underneath, dont we all just want the same thing are we not the same.

I know in past times, wars, conflicts and during horrific times, i lost my faith, i became an empty numb person, full of anger, hate, torment, and every other negative emotion you could dream of, but thankfully, in recent years my faith has been restored.

God bless you all, may you all find peace in your life, and in your hearts and minds.

Mike

Wow

Forgot i said that, but i remember that carol service so very well.

Love to you all, from me my wife Kirsty, and my boys, Jack, George & Ross.

I can relate, Mikey. Cherry has been copying the Poems Thread to the other new forum. The guys and gals, including me, used to pour their hearts out by writing poetry.

I read the topic so far and had literally forgotten I'd even wrote some of the things I wrote back in 03.

Well, back to moving more Inspiration stuff here. May it help someone like it has helped all of us.

MOM

Original Post was by SgtCyns:

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If at times you feel you want to cry
And life seems such a trial
Above the clouds there's a bright blue sky
To make your tears a smile

As you travel on life's way
With its many ups and downs
Remember it's quite true to say
One smile is worth a dozen frowns

Among the world's expensive things
A smile is very cheap
And when you give a smile away,
You get one back to keep

Happiness comes at times to all
But sadness comes unbidden
And sometimes a few tears must fall
Among the laughter hidden

So when friends have sadness on their face
And troubles round them piled
The world will seem a better place
And all because you smiled...

Originally posted by PreacherMedic with these comments:

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I am not sure if this actually happened or is fiction. It is something that is definitely in the realm of God's power to do. Even if it is fiction, it is inspirational. Please turn your volume up and enjoy.


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Click Here to get to Site Discussed.

Originally posted by CherryRead:

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YOU DECIDE

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation. They talked about so many things and various subjects.

When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: "I don't believe that God exists."

"Why do you say that?" asked the customer.

"Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving a God who would allow all of these things."

The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument. The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop. Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and unkempt.

The customer turned back and entered the barber shop again and he said to the barber: "You know what? Barbers do not exist."

"How can you say that?" asked the surprised barber. "I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!"

"No!" the customer exclaimed. "Barbers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside".

"Ah, but barbers DO exist! What happens is, people do not come to me."

"Exactly!"- affirmed the customer. "That's the point!

God, too, DOES exist! What happens, is people don't go to Him and do not look for Him. That's why there's so much pain and suffering in the world".

Originally posted by SgtCyns:

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CHOICES: LET IT REALLY SINK IN.

John is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and al ways has something positive to say.

When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!"

He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, John was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?

"He replied, "Each Morning I wake up and say to myself, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or...you can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to be in a good mood." Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or...I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or...I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life.

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.

"Yes, it is," he said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line:

It's your choice how you live your life."

I reflected on what he said. Soon hereafter, I left the Tower Industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I
often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.

Several years later, I heard that he was involved in a serious accident, falling some 60 feet from a communications tower. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, he was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back. I saw him about six months after the accident.

When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins Wanna see my scars?"

I declined to see his wounds, but I did ask him what had gone through his mind as the acciden t took place.

"The first thing that went through my mind was the well-being of my soon-to-be born daughter," he replied. "Then, as I lay on the ground, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or...I could choose to die. I chose to live."

"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.

He continued, "..the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read 'he's a dead man'. I knew I needed to take action."

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said John. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. "Yes, I replied." The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Gravity'." Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."

He lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude... I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of it's own."

Matthew 6:34.

After all today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday