What Is A Veteran?
Nov 9, 2005 15:23:17 GMT -6
Post by Moderator on Nov 9, 2005 15:23:17 GMT -6
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 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 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.
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."
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 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 protestor to burn the flag.
Let's remember them on this Veteran's Day observance.
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Written by: Father Denis Edward O'Brien M.M. USMC
Father Denis O'Brien was born in Dallas on October 8, 1923, and entered the seminary in 1941. When Pearl Harbor was attacked, he immediately enlisted in the Marine Corps.
He served in the Pacific, taking part in the battle of Peleliu where 1,336 Marines lost their lives and 6,032 were wounded. Later, as chaplain of the First Marine Division, he returned to Peleliu in 1994 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of that battle and to pray for all who died there. They were, as he described them, his brothers and all Marines. He often said, "We never left anyone behind."
After he left the military service, he went into the Maryknoll Seminary in New York and then on to be a missionary to the poor, the needy, the terminally ill and the "unwanted" in East Africa and Mexico.
He died on August 29, 2002.
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 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 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.
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."
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 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 protestor to burn the flag.
Let's remember them on this Veteran's Day observance.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Written by: Father Denis Edward O'Brien M.M. USMC
Father Denis O'Brien was born in Dallas on October 8, 1923, and entered the seminary in 1941. When Pearl Harbor was attacked, he immediately enlisted in the Marine Corps.
He served in the Pacific, taking part in the battle of Peleliu where 1,336 Marines lost their lives and 6,032 were wounded. Later, as chaplain of the First Marine Division, he returned to Peleliu in 1994 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of that battle and to pray for all who died there. They were, as he described them, his brothers and all Marines. He often said, "We never left anyone behind."
After he left the military service, he went into the Maryknoll Seminary in New York and then on to be a missionary to the poor, the needy, the terminally ill and the "unwanted" in East Africa and Mexico.
He died on August 29, 2002.