|
|
|
Updated 17 July 2011
American Spartans
Free Lunch...
Working
Americans are lucky to have $5.00 or $6.00/hour left after paying their bills
AND his. The American taxpayers also pay for increased crime, graffiti and trash
Cheap
labor? YEAH RIGHT! Wake up people!
This is a terrific article which should be of special interest to
all who served in Vietnam .
Former
Secretary of
the Navy, James Webb writes an outstanding article about the facts
surrounding the
Vietnam war. He articulates how the media elite have chosen
to ignore
(and slight)
the role of
real American patriots during the Vietnam
years.
Heroes of the
Vietnam
Generation
By James Webb
The rapidly disappearing cohort of Americans that endured the Great
Depression and then fought World War II is receiving quite a send-off from the
leading lights of the so-called 60's generation. Tom Brokaw has published two
oral histories of "The Greatest Generation" that feature ordinary people doing
their
duty and
suggest that such conduct was historically unique.
Chris Matthews
of "Hardball" is fond of writing columns praising
the Navy
service of his father while castigating his own baby
boomer generation for its alleged softness and lack of struggle.
William Bennett
gave a startling condescending speech at the
Naval Academy a
few years ago comparing the heroism of the "D-Day Generation" to the
drugs-and-sex nihilism of the "Woodstock Generation." And Steven Spielberg, in
promoting his
film "Saving Private Ryan," was careful to justify his portrayals
of soldiers in action based on the supposedly unique nature of World War II.
An irony is at work here. Lest
we forget, the World War II generation now being lionized also brought us the
Vietnam War, a conflict which today's most conspicuous voices by and
large opposed, and in which few of them served. The "best and brightest" of the
Vietnam age group once made headlines by
castigating their parents for bringing about the war in which they
would not fight, which has become the war they refuse to
remember.
Pundits back then invented a
term for this animus: the "generation gap." Long, plaintive articles and even
books were
written examining its manifestations.
Campus leaders, who
claimed precocious wisdom through the magical process of reading
a few
controversial books, urged fellow baby boomers not to
trust anyone over 30. Their elders who had survived the
Depression and
fought the largest war in history were looked
down upon as shallow, materialistic, and out of touch.
Those of us who grew up, on the
other side of the picket line
from that era's
counter-culture can't help but feel a little leery of this sudden gush of
appreciation for our elders from the leading lights of the old counter-culture.
Then and now, the national conversation has proceeded from the dubious
assumption
that those who
came of age during Vietnam are a unified generation in the same sense as their
parents were, and thus are
capable of being spoken for through these fickle elites.
In truth, the "Vietnam
generation" is a misnomer. Those who came of age during that war are permanently
divided by different reactions to a whole range of counter-cultural agendas,
and nothing divides them more deeply than the personal ramifications of the war
itself. The sizable portion of the Vietnam age group who declined to support the
counter-cultural agenda, and especially the men and women who opted to serve in
the
military
during the Vietnam War, are quite different from their peers who
for decades
have claimed to speak for them. In fact, they are much like the World War II
generation itself. For them, Woodstock was a side show, college protestors were
spoiled brats who would have benefited from having to work a few jobs in
order to pay their tuition, and Vietnam represented not an intellectual exercise
in draft avoidance, or protest marches but a battlefield that was just as brutal
as those their fathers faced in World War II and Korea.
Few who served
during Vietnam ever complained of a generation gap. The men who fought World War
II were their heroes and role models. They honored their father's service by
emulating it, and largely agreed with their father's wisdom in attempting to
stop Communism's reach in Southeast
Asia.
The most accurate poll of
their attitudes (Harris, 1980) showed that 91 percent were glad they'd served
their country,74 percent enjoyed their time in the service,
and 89 percent agreed with the statement that "our troops were
asked to fight in a war which our political leaders in Washington would not let
them win." And most
importantly, the
castigation they received upon returning home was not from the World War II
generation, but from the very elites in their age group who supposedly spoke
for them.
Nine million men served in
the military during Vietnam War,
three million
of whom went to the Vietnam Theater. Contrary to
popular mythology, two-thirds of these were volunteers, and 73 percent of
those who died were volunteers. While some attention has been paid recently
to
the plight of
our prisoners of war, most of whom were pilots; there has been little
recognition of how brutal the war was for
those who fought it on the
ground.
Dropped onto the enemy's
terrain 12,000 miles away from home, America 's citizen-soldiers performed with
a tenacity and quality that may never be truly understood. Those who believe the
war was fought incompletely on a tactical level should consider Hanoi's
recent admission that 1.4 million of its soldiers died on the battlefield,
compared to 58,000 total U.S. dead.
Those who believe that it was a "dirty little war" where the bombs did all
the work might contemplate that is was the most costly war the U.S. Marine
Corps has ever fought - five times as many dead as World War I, three
times as many dead as in Korea, and more total killed and wounded than in all of
World War II.
Significantly, these
sacrifices were being made at a time the United States was deeply divided over
our effort in Vietnam. The baby-boom generation had cracked apart along class
lines as America 's young men were making difficult, life-or-death
choices about serving. The better academic institutions became focal
points for vitriolic protest against the war, with few of
their graduates going into the military.
Harvard College, which had lost 691 alumni in World War II, lost a
total of 12 men in Vietnam from the classes of 1962 through 1972 combined.
Those classes at Princeton lost six, at MIT two. The media turned ever more hostile. And frequently the reward for
a young man having gone through the trauma of combat was to be greeted by
his peers with
studied indifference of outright hostility.
What is a hero? My heroes are
the young men who faced the issues of war and possible death, and then weighed
those concerns against obligations to their country. Citizen-soldiers who
interrupted their personal and professional lives at their
most formative stage, in the timeless phrase of the Confederate Memorial in
Arlington National Cemetery, "not for fame of reward, not for place or for rank,
but in simple obedience to duty, as they understood it."
Who suffered
loneliness, disease, and wounds with an often-contagious elan.
And who deserve
a far better place in history than that now offered them by the
so-called
spokesman of our so-called
generation.
Mr. Brokaw, Mr. Matthews, Mr.
Bennett, Mr. Spielberg, meet my
Marines.
1969 was an odd
year to be in Vietnam.
Second only to 1968 in terms of American casualties, it was the
year made famous by Hamburger Hill, as well as the gut-wrenching Life cover
story showing pictures of 242 Americans who had been
killed in one
average week of fighting.
Back home, it was the year of Woodstock, and of numerous anti-war
rallies that
culminated in the Moratorium March on Washington.
The My
Lai massacre hit the papers and was seized upon by the anti-war movement as the
emblematic moment of the war.
Lyndon Johnson
left Washington in utter
humiliation.
Richard Nixon entered the
scene, destined for an even worse fate.
In the An Hoa
Basin southwest of Danang, the Fifth Marine Regiment was in its third year of
continuous combat operations.
Combat is an unpredictable and inexact environment, but we
were well led.
As a rifle platoon and company commander, I served under a
succession of three regimental commanders who had cut
their teeth in
World War II, and four different battalion commanders, three of whom had seen
combat in Korea.
The company
commanders were
typically captains on their second combat tour in Vietnam , or young first
lieutenants like myself who were given companies after many months of "bush
time" as platoon commanders in the Basin's tough and unforgiving environs.
The Basin was one of the most
heavily contested areas in
Vietnam, its
torn, cratered earth offering every sort of wartime possibility.
In the
mountains just to the west, not far from the
Ho Chi Minh Trail, the North Vietnamese Army operated an infantry
division from an area called Base Area 112. In the valleys of the Basin,
main-force Viet Cong battalions whose ranks were 80 percent North Vietnamese
Army regulars moved against the Americans every day. Local Viet Cong units
sniped and harassed.
Ridgelines and paddy dikes were laced with sophisticate d booby
traps of every size, from a hand grenade to a 250-pound bomb. The villages sat
in the rice paddies and tree lines like individual fortresses, crisscrossed with
the trenches
and spider holes, their homes sporting bunkers capable of surviving
direct hits from large-caliber artillery shells. The Viet Cong infrastructure
was intricate and permeating.
Except for the
old and the very young, villagers who did not side with the Communists had
either been killed or driven out to the government controlled enclaves near Danang.
In the rifle companies, we
spent the endless months patrolling ridgelines and villages and mountains, far
away from any notion of tents, barbed wire, hot food, or elctricity.
Luxuries were
limited to what would fit inside one's pack, which after a
few "humps" usually boiled down to letter-writing material, towel,
soap,
toothbrush, poncho liner, and a small transistor radio.
We moved through the boiling heat with 60 pounds of weapons and gear,
causing a typical Marine to drop 20 percent of his body weight while in the
bush.
When we stopped
we dug chest-deep
fighting holes
and slit trenches for toilets. We slept on the ground under makeshift poncho
hootches, and when it rained we usually took our hootches down because wet
ponchos shined under illumination flares, making great targets. Sleep itself was
fitful, never more than an hour or two at a stretch for months at a time as we
mixed daytime patrolling with night-time ambushes, listening posts, foxhole
duty, and radio watches;
Ringworm,
hookworm, malaria, and dysentery were common, as was trench foot when the
monsoons came. Respite was rotating back to the mud-filled regimental combat
base at An Hoa for four or five days, where rocket and mortar attacks were
frequent and our troops manned defensive bunkers at night, which makes it kind
of hard to get excited about tales of Woodstock, or camping at the
Vineyard during summer break.
We had been told while
training that Marine officers in the
rifle companies
had an 85 percent probability of being killed or wounded, and the experience of
"Dying Delta," as our company was known, bore that out.
Of the officers
in the bush when I arrived, our company commander was wounded, the weapons
platoon commander wounded, the first platoon commander was killed, the second
platoon commander was wounded twice, and I, commanding the third platoons fared
no better.
Two of my original three-squad leaders were killed, and the third
shot in the stomach.
My platoon sergeant was severely wounded, as was my right guide. By
the time I left, my platoon I had gone through six radio operators, five of
them casualties.
These figures were hardly
unique; in fact, they were typical.
Many other
units; for instance, those who fought the hill battles around Khe Sanh, or were
with the famed Walking Dead of the Ninth Marine Regiment, or were in the battle
of Hue City or at Dai Do, had it far
worse.
When I
remember those days and the very young men who spent them with me, I am
continually amazed, for these were mostly recent civilians barely out of high
school, called up from the cities and the farms to do their year in hell and
then return.
Visions haunt
me every day, not of the nightmares of war but of the steady consistency with
which my Marines faced their responsibilities, and of how uncomplaining most of
them were in the face of constant danger.
The salty,
battle-hardened 20-year-olds teaching green 19-year-olds the intricate
lessons of the hostile battlefield.
The unerring skill of the young squad leaders as we moved through
unfamiliar villages
and weed-choked trails in the black of night. The quick
certainty when a fellow Marine was wounded and needed help. Their willingness to
risk their lives to save other Marines in peril.
To this day it
stuns me that their own countrymen have so completely missed the story of their
service, lost in the bitter confusion of the war itself.
Like every military unit
throughout history we had occasional
laggards,
cowards, and complainers. But in the aggregate, these Marines were the finest
people I have ever been around.
It has been my privilege to keep up with many of them over the
years since we all came home.
One finds in them very little bitterness about the war in which
they fought.
The most common regret, almost to a man, is that they were not able
to do more for each other and for the people they came to help.
It would be redundant to say
that I would trust my life to these men.
Because I
already have, in more ways than I can ever
recount.
I am alive today because of their quiet, unaffected
heroism.
Such valor
epitomizes the conduct of Americans at war from the first days of our existence.
That the boomer
elites can canonize this sort of conduct in our fathers' generation
while ignoring it in our own is more than simple oversight. It is a
conscious,
continuing travesty.
THE
UNITED STATES MARINES
I like the fact that if you are a self-declared
enemy of America ,
SEMPER FIDELIS
Sergeant Gerald W. Colbert
Veteran
United States Marine Corps
Ser. # 648850
Rifle # 2424832
MOS: 0311/5841
1947-1952
THE WARRIOR’S CODE OF HONOR at www.militarycodeofhonor.com
As a combat veteran wounded in one of America ’s wars, I offer to speak for those who cannot. Were the mouths of my fallen front-line friends not stopped with dust, they would testify that life revolves around honor. In war, it is understood that you give your word of honor to do your duty -- that is -- stand and fight instead of running away and deserting your friends. When you keep your word despite desperately desiring to flee the screaming hell all around, you earn honor.
Earning honor under fire changes who you are. The blast furnace of battle burns away impurities encrusting your soul. The white-hot forge of combat hammers you into a hardened, purified warrior willing to die rather than break your word to friends -- your honor. Unbeknownst to civilians, some things are worth dying for.
Combat is scary but exciting. You never feel so alive as when being shot at without result. You never feel so triumphant as when shooting back -- with result. You never feel love so pure as that burned into your heart by friends willing to die to keep their word to you. And they do.
The biggest sadness of your life is to see friends falling. The biggest surprise of your life is to survive the war. Although still alive on the outside, you are dead inside -- shot thru the heart with nonsensical guilt for living while friends died. The biggest lie of your life torments you that you could have done something more, different, to save them. Their faces are the tombstones in your weeping eyes, their souls shine the true camaraderie you search for the rest of your life but never find.
You come home but a grim ghost of he who so lightheartedly went off to war. But home no longer exists. That world shattered like a mirror the first time you were shot at. You live a different world now. You always will.
Your world is about waking up night after night silently screaming, back in battle. Your world is about your best friend bleeding to death in your arms, howling in pain for you to kill him. Your world is about shooting so many enemies the gun turns red and jams, letting the enemy grab you. Your world is about struggling hand-to-hand for one more breath of life.
You never speak of your world. Those who have seen combat do not talk about it. Those who talk about it have not seen combat.
The hurricane winds of war have hurled you as far away as Mars, and you can never go back home again, not really.
After your terrifying – but thrilling dance with death, your old world of babies, backyards and ballgames seems deadly dull.
People you knew before the war try to make contact with you. It is useless. Words fall like bricks between you.
Serving with warriors who died proving their word has made prewar friends seem too untested to be trusted – thus they are now mere acquaintances. Earning honor under fire has made you alone, a stranger in your own home town.
The only time you are not alone is when with another combat veteran. Only he understands that keeping your word, your honor, whilst standing face to face with death gives meaning and purpose to life. Only he understands that spending a mere 24 hours in the broad, sunlit uplands of battle-proven honor is more satisfying to a man than spending a whole lifetime in safe, comfortably numb civilian life.
Although you walk thru life alone, you are not lonely. You have a constant companion from combat -- Death. It stands close behind, a little to the left. Death whispers in your ear: “Nothing matters outside my touch, and I have not touched you...YET!”
Death never leaves you -- it is your best friend, your most trusted advisor, your wisest teacher. Death teaches you that every day above ground is a fine day. Death teaches you to feel fortunate on good days, and bad days...well, they do not exist. Death teaches you that merely seeing one more sunrise is enough to fill your cup of life to the brim -- pressed down and running over!
Down thru the dusty centuries it has always been thus. It always will be, for what is seared into a man’s soul who stands face to face with death never changes.
Writer’s Note (1): This work attempts to describe the world as seen thru the eyes of a combat veteran. It is a world virtually unknown to the public because few veterans talk about it. This is unfortunate since people who are trying to understand, and make contact with combat veterans, are kept in the dark.
I offer these poor, inadequate words – bought not taught – in the hope that they may shed some small light on why combat veterans are like they are.
It is my life desire that this tortured work, despite it’s many defects, may yet still provide some tiny sliver of understanding which may blossom into tolerance – nay, acceptance – of a Warrior’s perhaps unconventional way of being due to combat-damaged emotions from doing his duty under fire.
MOPH member number L63550.
Dedicated to absent friends in unmarked graves.
CONTACT Your invited to discuss how the Warrior's Code makes you feel, how it describes your experience. All feedback is welcome, both positive and negative. The writer may be emailed at 10625@cox.net (NOTE: The discussion/Feedback section is not included in this email. It can be viewed at www.militarycodeofhonor.com)
STRESS A lecturer when explaining stress management to anaudience, raised a glass of water and asked 'How heavy is this glass of water?' Answers called out ranged fro m 20g to 500g. The lecturer replied, 'The absolute weight doesn't matter. It depends on how long you try to hold it.
If I hold it for a minute, that's not a problem .
If I hold it for an hour, I'll have an ache in my right arm .
If I hold it for a day, you'll have to call an ambulance.
In each case, it's the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes.'
He continued,
'And that's the way it is with stress management.
If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later,
as the burden becomes increasingly heavy,
we won't be able to carry on.'
'As with the glass of water,
you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again.
When we're refreshed, we can carry on with the burden.'
'So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down
Don't carry it home
You can pick it up tomorrow.
Whatever burdens you're carrying now,
let them down for a moment if you can.'
So, my friend, Put down anything that may be a burden to you right now.
Don't pick it up again until after you've rested a while.
Here are some great ways of dealing with the burdens of life:
* Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue.
* Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them .
* Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.
* Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.
* If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.
* If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.
* It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply be kind to others.
* Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't have a leg to stand on.
* Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.
* Since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late.
* The second mouse gets the cheese.
* When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
* Birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live.
* You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be the world to one person.
* Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.
* We could learn a lot from crayons... Some are sharp, some are pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names, and all are different colors, but they all have to live in the same box.
*A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.
I really am tired of this "politically correct" bullcrap. It's nothing more than a liberal ploy to attack our basic Christian values. Christianity is an open target for anyone to slur and demean while every other sect or group is off limits to any form of discussion. We are considered "racist" if we disagree with government handouts to blacks or Hispanics or any other group whom the liberals keep dependant upon themselves. We are "homophobes" if we believe in our spiritual souls that gay marriage is against our core values. We are castigated as "wacky" Christians if we question any of the liberal agenda on abortion, the death penalty for those who cold-bloodedly kill first and have "remorse" afterward. I am not religious by any means, but I believe in the basic tenets of the Bible and I believe there is a God and that His plan does not include acceptance of those actions or ideologies that are in direct opposition to those basic biblical tenets. While it is my belief that God exists and watches over us, I also believe He is there to guide us while we take up "arms" against these attacks. Our basic ammunition is words and our weapons are the keyboard and the telephone. We all need to get active in having our voices heard over the roar of the liberals via emails and phone calls to our Senators, Congressmen/women and special interest groups. Christians are still the MAJORITY but are being drowned out by an insidious minority bolstered by the slanted, biased media. I hope you all join me in writing and/or calling our representatives'. They are easily found by Googling their names or the Senate and Congress. It takes only a few moments but will do a world of good if we all join the battle and save this country from following the fates of previous powers. America is still a good country with lots to give the world if we continue to save the best of her from the degenerate ! designs of those who hate us.
Sorry, just had to get that off my chest. God Bless all of you with love and hope, peace and health.
Very scary and very important.....
This is an article written by Charlie Reese, a former columnist for the Orlando Sentinel Newspaper. Very interesting perspective on the state of our Nation!
545 PEOPLE
Charlie Reese is a former columnist of the Orlando Sentinel Newspaper.
Interesting To Consider.
I never thought of this...... This lady has changed her habit of how she lists her names on her mobile phone after her handbag was stolen. Her handbag, which contained her cell phone, credit card, wallet... etc... was stolen.
Twenty minutes later when she called her hubby, from a pay phone telling him what had happened, hubby says 'I received your text asking about our Pin number and I've replied a little while ago.'
When they rushed down to the bank, the bank staff told them all the money was already withdrawn. The thief had actually used the stolen cell phone to text 'hubby' in the contact list and got hold of the pin number. Within 20 minutes he had withdrawn all the money from their bank account.
Moral of the lesson: Do not disclose the relationship between you and the people in your contact list. Avoid using names like Home, Honey, Hubby, Sweetheart, Dad, Mom, etc.... And very importantly, when sensitive info is being asked through texts, CONFIRM by calling back. Also, when you're being text by friends or family to meet them somewhere, be sure to call back to confirm that the message came from them. If you don't reach them, be very careful about going places to meet 'family and friends' who text you.
PLEASE PASS THIS ON I never thought about THAT! As of right now, I no longer have 'home' named on my cell phone .
It is a sad state of affairs indeed, but let's look
at it from a different aspect. God either is
or is not, depending on each
individuals belief. Nothing can change that. Now let's look at what has
happened to make us feel this angry. Evidence proves that 84% of Americans
are believers. That leaves 16% who are either on the fence or unbelievers.
It's not about religion, Catholic or Protestant or Muslim or any other
religion, it's about our belief in God. Our forefathers believed in God as
is so very obvious in our most honored and sacrosanct documents, the
Constitution,
Declaration of Independence and the
Federalist Papers.
They were here and demanding independence from a tyrannical government who
would not give them freedom to believe as they wished so their beliefs were
well grounded. As history tells, we won, all was well and we prospered and
grew as a new country into the bastion of freedom the entire world looks up
to today. Well at least up to yesterday. As we grew into our freedom, we
also found new levels of wealth for all the people. Along with this wealth
came the satisfaction of being able to do more and have more. As we found
this new form of financial freedom, some became more enamored with
self-gratification. Our basic tenants began to change from those
established by our God into various degrees of new accountabilities
determined by the cravings of our "flesh". We became more tolerant. We
became a society which accepted things which didn't directly affect us as
long as we were left alone to live our lives the way we wanted to. For the
vast majority, this was the best course of our pursuit of happiness, just
let things be. The other side of the populace, the minority, wasn't willing
to accept just being accepted, they wanted to be proven their idealism was
"right". It was important to them to have the blessing of everyone, not
mere acknowledgement. They became political. They worked to take their
morality into the offices of government, they took their convoluted thinking
into the courts via sympathetic judges, they determined the Constitution was
a "living" document that needed to change to keep abreast of the changing
norms of society. They opened their arms to anyone who didn't agree with
the "normal" morality of America and grew in number. They became a
political force while the rest of America quietly went about their
business. Now things are coming back around to bite us for our political
inactivity. We accepted a judges determination that saying a prayer in
class was unconstitutional. Show me where that is stated in the
Constitution. We accepted a judges determination that marriage is not
solely between a man or a women. Where does it say that in
the Constitution. We accepted a judges determination that no "religious"
symbolism can be displayed on government property. Again, nowhere to be
found in the Constitution. Unfortunately, this is not simply a case of
something squeaking by unnoticed. It has been rampant for a long time.
Maybe we relied on "our" government too much in confronting this problem but
in the end "our" government ultimately let us down. Maybe it's the ego of
power that brought about the succumbing of the once moral leadership we had
to today's, "let's just do what we have to do to keep being re-elected"
mentality. Now it is up to the people who stand alone, leaderless, to make
things different. Each and everyone of us has to raise our voice in
rebellious harmony to bring
Washington back to where it needs to be. We have a great weapon
today in the internet. There is no single political figure who cannot be
reached via the internet. Your feelings and ideas can be communicated and
when enough of us decide to take the time and make the effort to have our
individual thoughts heard, change will occur. So, let's not get "mad" at
something that our government has allowed to happen, do something about it.
Write your Senators and Representatives EVERY DAY and let them know how you
feel. It doesn't take anymore time than it does to read this email.
"I favor the policy of economy, not because I wish to save money, but because I wish to save people. The men and women of this country who toil are the ones who bear the cost of the Government. Every dollar that we carelessly waste means that their life will be so much the more meager. Every dollar that we prudently save means that their life will be so much the more abundant. Economy is idealism in its most practical form.” —Calvin Coolidge
America The Home Of The Brave
I am a 74-year-old proud American Veteran that lives in the
land of the Free America and the home of the brave The Lawton/Fort Sill
Veterans home in Lawton,
Comanche County, Oklahoma. I can remember back in the year of 1941 I
was an 8-year-old boy living with my parents and my three brothers in
Clovis, New Mexico when
I saw my very first soldier. This was during World War 11. There was an
Army Base at Clovis, NM and they practiced their marching drill daily
on the public street in front of where we lived. My brother Buddy Odle
(Orville Lester), my cousin Lloyd, Bobby &
Shirley Mitchell and a
neighbor boy Donald McDonald would stand on the corner mesmerized watching
the American soldiers
march by. We were not old enough to know anything about the war. We just
knew we liked watching those soldiers. Little did I know then that these
soldiers and others in uniform would make it possible for me and every one
living in the United States of
America to know a life time of Freedom. Making it possible for me and
others to live the American dream. We cannot thank these soldiers enough for
our way of life. I am honored to live in a country with the bravest warrior
in the world.
This is the year 2008 and our brave warriors of today are
fighting in Iraq and
Afghanistan giving us
hope that one day our descendants can live in Freedom with peace on earth
and good will towards all countries on earth. I believe that America will
always be a place called hope. We must keep the faith with those who serve.
What can we as Americans do to show the world that we support
our troops? We can wear Red
Shirts
on Friday until our troops return home safely to their loved ones.
The Red stands for the blood they shed on the battlefields for yours and my
freedom. Our freedom is not free. Some one pays for that freedom as over
6,000
American Heroes have in this war. Just as my home town hero
United States Marine Corp
Corporal Jeffry Rogers of
Yukon, Oklahoma and
Apache, Oklahoma Hero
United States Marine Corp
Corporal Josh Ware both men were good friends and died in the same battle
Nov.16, 2005 in New Ubaydi, Iraq during
Operation Iraqi Freedom.
Every Friday is Red Shirt Friday anyone in the world should be able
to look up and see a sea of red.
Our Soldiers and our Veterans should receive the
best health care and
health care facilities
in the world. As should our soldiers families and our veterans families.
When the war is over these soldiers are going to need a good education and
some good paying jobs.
We should close our borders to American Companies
manufacturing goods in foreign countries. We need those companies in America
providing jobs for Americans. We need to make it possible for the working
class in America to live the American dream. We need fuel-efficient
transportation now! We need fuel-efficient homes. We need to stop buying
fuel and goods from countries that hate us. We need to stop putting
manufacturing companies in countries that hate us. Stop all foreign aides to
other countries until we pay off our debt to foreign lands like
China. We need a
strong dollar one that is worth more than any foreign countries money. We
also need leaders that can relate to the working class. We need an energy
revolution now!
As Americans we need to know what we stand for and work
towards that goal. We need health care for all Americans. Who can we trust
to keep America Safe? We know that we can trust the
American soldier to protect our freedoms and our way of life! We need
to provide affordable assisted living and health care for our elderly.
I can remember in this country when you could walk down the
streets safely. And it was a normal site to see Gold Stars in Gold Star
mother’s windows. You never had to lock your doors. We did not have anything
worth stealing. Our tean agers had respect for their elders and would do
anything to help them. And our elders respected and loved the children and
enjoyed helping them in anyway.
The failed policies of the past eight years have lead to over
6000 deaths over seas on the battlefields, the loss of thousands of good
jobs in America due to American Companies going over seas to cheap labor.
Out of work Americans are losing their homes because they lost their jobs
when their Company went across the pond. Washington D.C. politicians that
are in the oil business and own lots of stock in Oil Companies have made a
killing off high gasoline
prices and made it impossible for the working class to drive to work.
Elderly Americans have to make the choice of putting gasoline in the car, or
being able to buy
prescription drugs or groceries.
Our Government is forced to borrow money from China and other
countries to pay for the Iraqi War. We need a change in leadership. We need
leaders that know how to manage money, create jobs and broker peace in this
old world. Someone who truly cares about America and the
American people. Someone who is proud to be an American. Some one
with the American troops welfare and the working mans welfare on their minds
at all times. We need a Big Change! Go to bed praying that you will make the
right choice in November for
America and Americans. And please remember to wear your red shirt
every Friday. Let the world know that you support the American Troops!
God Bless America! God
Bless The American Troops! And God Bless the working man and the elderly!
By Paul L. Odle, Sr.
Popular Yukon Author, Humorous, and Special Veteran Correspondent
Literary Historian and Ardent Promoter of Yukon, Oklahoma and
Veterans Centers
2008 Yukon Wall Of Fame Recipient
Proud To Be An American Veteran
Lawton/Fort Sill Veterans Center
P.O. Box 849
The American Sacrifice
Republican or Democrat? Who Cares? Stop blaming the problems of the Nation on a party. The problems are with the people of the system. Regardless of who we send to Washington, they quickly become personal lap dogs of the special interests. We have to protect ourselves by watching over those who we have sent to do our work. It seems as soon as our elected official arrive in Washington, they forget why they where sent there. Legislation is being passed without even being read. Agendas are being followed even though it is exactly against what they said they would fight for. Good Bills are being weighed down with so much special interest fat they are so expensive that defeat the entire reason for their composure to begin with. Bureaucrats are making deals with foreign Nationals without our knowledge and/or consent. The thought of selling our highways is unimaginable. The every earth that our fathers and mothers and some of us have fought and died for being sold to those who could not kill us for. It makes me furious. Those who do this or even attempt to are committing High Treason. These people know that they are hidden behind a curtain of anonymity. No one is watching the store. The deals are made and only caught at times by accident. How many are missed or just covered up and haven’t been found yet. The Bureaucratic system needs to have a watch dog in place just make sure they know that they serve the people of the United States and not the insulated Bureau Chief.
Soon To Be Gone - From A Military Doctor Also, there was this long retired Colonel, who as a young officer had
parachuted from his burning plane over a Pacific Island held by the Japanese.
Now an octogenarian, he had a minor cut on his head from a fall at his home
where he lived alone. His CT scan and suturing had been delayed until after
midnight by the usual parade of high priority ambulance patients. Still spry for
his age, he asked to use the phone to call a taxi, to take him home, then he
realized his ambulance had brought him without his wallet. He asked if he could
use the phone to make a long distance call to his daughter who lived 7 miles
away. With great pride we told him that he could not, as he'd done enough for
his country and the least we could do was get him a taxi home, even if we had to
pay for it ourselves. My only regret was that my shift wouldn't end for several
hours, and I couldn't drive him myself. I have seen a Congress who would turn their back on these individuals who've
sacrificed so much to protect our liberty. I see later generations that seem to
be totally engrossed in abusing these same liberties, won with such sacrifice. We should all remember that we must "Earn this."
ALL EUROPEAN LIFE DIED IN AUSCHWITZ The following is a copy of an article written by Spanish writer Sebastian It doesn't take much imagination to extrapolate the message to the rest of Europe - and possibly to the rest of the world. ===================================================== In Auschwitz we burned a culture, thought, creativity, talent. We
destroyed the chosen people, truly chosen, because they produced great and
wonderful people who changed the world. ignorance, religious extremism and lack of tolerance, crime and poverty, due to an unwillingness to work and support their families with pride. They have blown up our trains and turned our beautiful Spanish cities into the third world, drowning in filth and crime.
Shut up in the apartments they receive free from the government, they plan the
murder and destruction of their naive hosts. Jews of Europe and their talent for hoping for a better future for their children, their determined clinging to life because life is holy, for those who pursue death, for people consumed by the desire for death for themselves and others, for our children and theirs. What a terrible mistake was made by miserable Europe .
|
Ray
"Frenchie" Quesnel 
