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Memorial Day

Memorial day 2008

Memorial Day

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Remeber the real reason for Memorial Day in the U.S.

Commentary: Stop to salute on Memorial Day

By Capt. John Rasmussen

EAGLE BASE, Bosnia and Herzegovina (Army News Service, May 22, 2002) -- It was raining "cats and dogs" and I was late for physical training. Traffic was backed up at Fort Campbell, Ky., and was moving way too slowly. I was probably going to be late and I was growing more and more impatient.

The pace slowed almost to a standstill as I passed Memorial Grove, the site built to honor the soldiers who died in the Gander airplane crash, the worst redeployment accident in the history of the 101st Airborne Division (Air Assault).

Because it was close to Memorial Day, a small American flag had been placed in the ground next to each soldier's memorial plaque. My concern at the time, however, was getting past the bottleneck, getting out of the rain and getting to PT on time.

All of a sudden, infuriatingly, just as the traffic was getting started again, the car in front of me stopped. A soldier, a private of course, jumped out in the pouring rain and ran over toward the grove.

I couldn't believe it! This knucklehead was holding up everyone for who knows what kind of prank. Horns were honking. I waited to see the butt-chewing that I wanted him to get for making me late.

He was getting soaked to the skin. His BDUs were plastered to his frame. I watched-as he ran up to one of the memorial plaques, picked up the small American flag that had fallen to the ground in the wind and the rain, and set it upright again.

Then, slowly, he came to attention, saluted, ran back to his car, and drove off.

I'll never forget that incident. That soldier, whose name I will never know, taught me more about duty, honor, and respect than a hundred books or a thousand lectures.

That simple salute -- that single act of honoring his fallen brother and his flag -- encapsulated all the Army values in one gesture for me. It said, "I will never forget. I will keep the faith. I will finish the mission. I am an American soldier."

I thank God for examples like that.

And on this Memorial Day, I will remember all those who paid the ultimate price for my freedom, and one private, soaked to the skin, who honored them.
 
Memorial Day


In 1865, Henry C. Welles, a druggist in the village of Waterloo, NY, mentioned at a social gathering that honor should be shown to the patriotic dead of the Civil War by decorating their graves.
In the Spring of 1866, he again mentioned this subject to General John B. Murray, Seneca County Clerk. General Murray embraced the idea and a committee was formulated to plan a day devoted to honoring the dead.
Townspeople adopted the idea wholeheartedly. Wreaths, crosses and bouquets were made for each veteran's grave. The village was decorated with flags at half mast and draped with evergreen boughs and mourning black streamers.
On May 5, 1866, civic societies joined the procession to the three existing cemeteries and were led by veterans marching to martial music. At each cemetery there were impressive and lengthy services including speeches by General Murray and a local clergyman. The ceremonies were repeated on May 5, 1867.
The first official recognition of Memorial Day as such was issued by General John A. Logan, first commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. This was General Order No. 11 establishing "Decoration Day" as it was then known. The date of the order was May 5, 1868, exactly two years after Waterloo's first observance. That year Waterloo joined other communities in the nation by having their ceremony on May 30.

In 1965, a committee of community leaders started plans for the Centennial Celebration of Memorial Day. The committee consisted of VFW Commander James McCann, chairman, American Legion Commander Oliver J. McFall and Mayor Marion DeCicca, co-chairman, along with Village Trustees, M. Lewis Somerville, Roscoe Bartran, Richard Schreck, Tony DiPronio, and VFW Vice-Commander, Kenneth Matoon. Their goals were: "to obtain national recognition of the fact that Waterloo is the birthplace of Memorial Day through Congressional action" and "to plan and execute a proper celebration for such centennial observance."
In May of 1966, just in time for the Centennial, Waterloo was recognized as the "Birthplace of Memorial Day" by the United States Government. This recognition was long in coming and involved hours of painstaking research to prove the claim. While other communities may claim earlier observances of honoring the Civil War dead, none can claim to have been so well planned and complete, nor can they claim the continuity of observances that Waterloo can.
The Centennial Celebration that year brought dignitaries from government, military, veteran's organizations and descendants of the original founders of Memorial Day. A once luxurious home on Waterloo's Main Street, built in 1850, was purchased from the county and restored. Now the Memorial Day Museum, it houses artifacts of the first Memorial Day and the Civil War era.
 
Don't forget the Nurses.....their ouotes

" The noise outside was tremendous and we could hardly hear ourselves think. Shells and mortars were dropping much closer than they ever were before, but I was so busy I was almost able to forget about it."

"One of my rules was that nurses were not allowed to cry. The wounded and dying men in our care need our strength, I told them. We couldn't indulge in the luxury of our own feelings. On the other hand, I was always straight with the soldiers. I would never say, "Oh, you're going to be just fine," if they were on their way out. I didn't lie."

"Over and over and over. I used to see these people - they'd come in and give them Purple Hearts on the ward. And I'd look at them as they'd get their Purple Heart. At that point, it looked like it might be meaningful to them, so I didn't say anything. I never said anything, never said anything about what a waste it was. I would never dream of doing that, because they knew it and it would hurt like hell if they heard it anyway."

"That was when, in many cases, we found the maggots. The thought is repulsive. The first time I saw maggots in a wound, white and plump and squirming under the stained gauze, I nearly vomited. The doctor who was operating merely said, "'Ah--the Surgeon's Little Helpers.'"


"I never knew that tiny, slanted eyes could open SO wide and that children in such pain could be SO quiet. I still handle them in my nightmares."

That tent became our surgery. It was beyond primitive; it was beyond the MASH movie and TV show. It was dirty; it was a non-sterile environment. We didn't have enough instruments. We didn't have enough hands. Needless to say we shared things during surgical procedures that were absolutely needed to save lives, but they weren't sterile. We didn't have suction, we didn't have penicillin to irrigate wounds, didn't have enough blood to transfuse, we just didn't have... We did have so many casualties right out of the field. They just brought them all in there. The First Cav. put their people in that staging unit hoping that we could fix them and send them back into the war. So, we were [sigh] way above our heads.


"It's the largest trail of blood leading to the table that I have ever seen. I slip on it because my eyes are drawn to the gurney where several people are transferring the soldier to the operating table. I watch in horror as the lower portion of his jaw, teeth exposed, dangles from what is left of his face. "

"I feel bad that I cannot remember their names, but I cannot forget the severity of their wounds and their young faces. Nor the hopelessness and sadness I felt as so many of their lives slipped away."

"Why are you here?" It was easy to tell them the truth: If you were my brother, father, husband or son, I would want to know that qualified, compassionate and skilled American nurses were here caring for you to the very best of their ability.
 
It is so easy for us to make our plans for the big 3 day Memorial Day weekend, without remembering what it's there for to begin with. There are some who remember their friends and family by visiting cemetaries with flowers, tears and prayers. And so many others that go on their merry way, just planning their barbecues and trips and what-not. Not a thing wrong with that, but please take a few moments at least to think of the men and women who paid the price for the envious lives we live. There are people all over the world who would give anything to live here, with the privileges we enjoy, and so often take for granted.
If you see a veteran, take the time to thank them, if you are at a parade, take your hat off and salute the flag. And for god's sake, teach your children the importance of this, too.
:rose:
 
The Sack Lunches

I put my carry-on in the20luggage compartment and sat down in my assigned seat. It was going to be a long flight. 'I'm glad I have a good book to read and perhaps I will get a short nap,' I thought.

Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. I decided to start a conversation. 'Where are you headed?' I asked the soldier seated nearest to me.

'Petawawa. We'll be there for two weeks for special training, and then we're being deployed to Afghanistan .'

After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that sack lunches were available for five dollars. It would be several hours before we reached the east, and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time.

As I reached for my wallet, I overheard soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy lunch. 'No, that seems like a lot of money for just a sack lunch. Probably wouldn't be worth five bucks. I'll wait till we get to base '

His friend agreed.

I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch. I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty dollar bill. 'Take a lunch to all those soldiers.' She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me. 'My son was a soldier in Iraq ! ; it's almost like you are doing it for him.'

Picking up ten sacks, she headed up the aisle to where the soldiers were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked, 'Which do you like best - beef or chicken?'

'Chicken,' I replied, wondering why she asked. She turned and went to the front of plane, returning a minute later with a dinner plate from first class. 'This is yours with thanks.'

After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the rest room. A man stopped me. 'I saw what you did. I want to be part of it. Here, take this.' He handed me twenty-five dollars.

Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Aircraft Pilot coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he was not looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane. When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand, an said, 'I want to shake your hand.'

Quickly unfastening my seatbelt I stood and took the Captain's hand. With a booming voice he said, 'I was a soldier and I was a military pilot. Once, someone bought me a lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot.' I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.

Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs. A man who was seated about six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine. He left another twenty-five dollars in my palm.

When we landed I gathered my belongings and started to deplane. Waiting just inside the airplane door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word. Another twenty-five dollars!

Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to the base. I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five dollars. 'It will take you some time to reach the base. It will be about time for a sandwich. God Bless You.'

Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow travelers. As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our country. I could only give them a couple of meals. It seemed so little.

A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to his country for an amount of 'up to and including my life.'

That is Honor, and there are way too many people who no longer understand it.
 
Every generation of my family, maternal and paternal, has been in service since landing on this country's shores prior to the war between them thar states. :D

We remember. :rose:

Where is the poppy icon when needed?
 
No matter what your political affiliations are, whether you agree with the necessity of war or not... always support and show respect for those who serve this country with distinction and honor, those who are fighting for freedom at this moment, and those who have fallen.

My late grandfather served in WWII and Korea in the Navy. My late father-in-law served in Viet Nam with the Marines. I have nephews in the Armed Forces, two serving in Iraq right now.

Support our troops... and pay respects to those who made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom. We salute you all... and to those who have fallen, rest in peace.
 
It would be a good time to throw away your Chinese yellow magnetic troop support ribbons.
 
Last edited:
MEMORIAL DAY
A time for picnics, time off work -
Vacations and the "Indy" -
A holiday, too often times
We forget what, it should be.


A time to pay respect to those
Who rallied to the battle cry -
Who gave their lives for liberty -
Those freedoms for you and I.


Such a waste of brave young souls -
Some still struggling through their youth
Who faced and fell willingly
Before wartimes' awful truth.


So as we share this holiday
With our friends or family -
Take a moment to give thanks to
Those who died so we'd stay free.


Let us strive for world peace -
For the end of greed and hate -
For next time, after "the war"
It just may be too damned late.
 
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond the homefront's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
 
Symbolism of the Poppy

The red petals stand for the vast outpouring of blood;
the yellow and black center, the mud and desolation of all battlefields;
the green of the stem is symbolic of the forests, meadows and fields where generations of Americans
have perished to make generations free.
The stem represents the courage and determination
of our fallen warriors.

In fact, the paper poppies you see so many people wearing on
Memorial Day are made by disabled veterans.​
 
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