Once again we are at war. An entirely new generation of Combat Veterans
has been cultivated, and surely some hope this will be the war to end wars. It
won't be, but we will endeavour to bring freedom and liberty to an ancient
culture that had not know true freedom in over seven decades.

The American Veteran is among the most unselfish and generous in the
world. S/he has fought for those basic prinicples in countless foreign lands
for people they may have never known existed until then, but did so with
bravery, ferocity and professionalism. Their kind has never been seen on the
Earth before, and may never be known again in the history of Man.

To ALL of my Borthers and Sisters in Arms, I bid you peace and offer
my thanks for your service. For those who are still at war, I pray for your
safe return and the wellnes of your families.

Paratus et Vigilans


Steven J Robeson, LPN
GySgt USMC(ret'd)

In case you thought FCC was only off base about BPL, check out this:

http://www.journalnow.com/servlet/Satellite?pagename=WSJ/MGArticle/WSJ_BasicArticle&c=MGArticle&cid=1031779077936&pat h=!localnews&s=1037645509099

Do they want us to forget?


73 es tnx to all veterans de Jim, N2EY

While we're on the subject...

Yesterday (11/10) was the 229th anniversary of the United States Marine Corps.

Congrats and thanks to all US Marines, active duty or retired.

73 de Jim, N2EY

N2EY wrote:
While we're on the subject...

Yesterday (11/10) was the 229th anniversary of the United States Marine Corps.

Congrats and thanks to all US Marines, active duty or retired.

73 de Jim, N2EY

Semper Fi Ooora

(N2EY) wrote

73 es tnx to all veterans de Jim, N2EY

I am the American Sailor
Author unknown

Hear my voice, America! Though I speak through the mist of 200 years,
my shout for freedom will echo through liberty's halls for many
centuries to come. Hear me speak, for my words are of truth and
justice, and the rights of man. For those ideals I have spilled my
blood upon the world's troubled waters. Listen well, for my time is
eternal - yours is but a moment.

I am the spirit of heroes past and future. I am the American Sailor. I
was born upon the icy shores at Plymouth, rocked upon the waves of the
Atlantic, and nursed in the wilderness of Virginia. I cut my teeth on
New England codfish, and I was clothed in southern cotton. I built
muscle at the halyards of New Bedford whalers, and I gained my sea
legs high atop mizzen of Yankee clipper ships.

Yes, I am the American Sailor, one of the greatest seamen the world
has ever known. The sea is my home and my words are tempered by the
sound of paddle wheels on the Mississippi and the song of whales off
Greenland's barren shore. My eyes have grown dim from the glare of
sunshine on blue water, and my heart is full of star-strewn nights
under the Southern Cross.

My hands are raw from winter storms while sailing down round the Horn,
and they are blistered from the heat of cannon broadside while
defending our nation. I am the American Sailor, and I have seen the
sunset of a thousand distant, lonely lands. I am the American Sailor.
It was I who stood tall beside John Paul Jones as he shouted, "I have
not yet begun to fight!" I fought upon the Lake Erie with Perry, and I
rode with Stephen Decatur into Tripoli harbor to burn Philadelphia.

I met Guerriere aboard Constitution, and I was lashed to the mast with
Admiral Farragut at Mobile Bay. I have heard the clang of Confederate
shot against the sides of Monitor. I have suffered the cold with Peary
at the North Pole, and I responded when Dewey said, "You may fire when
ready Gridley," at Manila Bay. It was I who transported supplies
through submarine infested waters when our soldier's were called "over
there." I was there as Admiral Byrd crossed the South Pole. It was I
who went down with the Arizona at Pearl Harbor, who supported our
troops at Inchon, and patrolled dark deadly waters of the Mekong
Delta.

I am the American Sailor and I wear many faces. I am a pilot soaring
across God's blue canopy and I am a Seabee atop a dusty bulldozer in
the South Pacific. I am a corpsman nursing the wounded in the jungle,
and I am a torpedoman in the Nautilus deep beneath the North Pole. I
am hard and I am strong.

But it was my eyes that filled with tears when my brother went down
with the Thresher, and it was my heart that rejoiced when Commander
Shepherd rocketed into orbit above the earth. It was I who languished
in a Viet Cong prison camp, and it was I who walked upon the moon. It
was I who saved the Stark and the Samuel B. Roberts in the mine
infested waters of the Persian Gulf. It was I who pulled my brothers
from the smoke filled compartments of the Bonefish and wept when my
shipmates died on the Iowa and White Plains and Cole. When called
again, I was there, on the tip of the spear for Operations Desert
Shield and Desert Storm.

I am the American Sailor. I am woman, I am man, I am white and black,
yellow, red and brown. I am Jew, Muslim, Christian and Buddhist. I am
Irish, Filipino, African, French, Chinese, and Indian. And my standard
is the outstretched hand of Liberty. Today, I serve around the world,
on land, in air, on and under the sea. I serve proudly, at peace once
again, but with the fervent prayer that I need not be called again.

Tell your children of me. Tell them of my sacrifice, and how my spirit
soars above their country. I have spread the mantle of my nation over
the ocean and I will guard her forever. I am her heritage and yours.

I now know why men who have been to war yearn to reunite. Not to
tell stories or look at old pictures. Not to laugh or weep.
Comrades gather because they long to be with the men who once acted
their best, men who suffered and sacrificed, who were stripped raw,
right down to their humanity.

I did not pick these men. They were delivered by fate and the
Military. But I know them in a way I know no other men. I have
never given anyone such trust. They were willing to guard something
more precious than my life. They would have carried my reputation,
the memory of me. It was part of the bargain we all made, the
reason we were so willing to die for one another.

I cannot say where we are headed. Ours are not perfect friendships;
those are the province of legend and myth. A few of my comrades
drift far from me now, sending back only occasional word. I know
that one day even these could fall to silence. Some of the men will
stay close, a couple, perhaps, always at hand.

As long as I have memory, I will think of them all, every day. I am
sure that when I leave this world, my last thought will be of my
family and my comrades.....such good men.

- - -
from "These Good Men" by Michael Norman

(Hans K0HB) wrote:
I now know why men who have been to war yearn to reunite. Not to
tell stories or look at old pictures. Not to laugh or weep.
Comrades gather because they long to be with the men who once acted
their best, men who suffered and sacrificed, who were stripped raw,
right down to their humanity.

I did not pick these men. They were delivered by fate and the
Military. But I know them in a way I know no other men. I have
never given anyone such trust. They were willing to guard something
more precious than my life. They would have carried my reputation,
the memory of me. It was part of the bargain we all made, the
reason we were so willing to die for one another.

I cannot say where we are headed. Ours are not perfect friendships;
those are the province of legend and myth. A few of my comrades
drift far from me now, sending back only occasional word. I know
that one day even these could fall to silence. Some of the men will
stay close, a couple, perhaps, always at hand.

As long as I have memory, I will think of them all, every day. I am
sure that when I leave this world, my last thought will be of my
family and my comrades.....such good men.

- - -
from "These Good Men" by Michael Norman


Very good. Here's another but I can't credit the author..dunno who it is.
------------------------------------------------------------------
It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the
press.

It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who has given us the freedom
to demonstrate.

It is the soldier, who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and
whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protester to burn the
flag.

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 that 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".