Remembrance

[eric shawn listo]

 

[Guest]

Thanks to everyone for keeping this thread bumped. It means a lot.

 

[Guest]

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[OhMissScarlett]

Credence Clearwater Revival's Fortunate Son for my friend F.A. and all the other Vietnam vets.

Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, they're red, white and blue.
And when the band plays "Hail to the chief",
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord,

It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no,

Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don't they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,

It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no.

Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord,
And when you ask them, "How much should we give?"
Ooh, they only answer More! more! more! yoh,

It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no military son, son.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, one.

It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no no no,
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no no no

 

[oggbashan]

To follow on from the last post:

During WWI the aristocracy and landed gentry of the UK lost more sons than almost any other part of the community. When the fathers died without direct heirs the grateful government hit them so hard with Inheritance Tax that many estates were broken up.

The Army still recruits officers from the landed gentry. They die just as easily as everyone else. It used to be said that the first son would inherit, the second son would join the Army and the third son the Church. Now many sons and daughters join the Army - there isn't enough left to inherit except a failing family business that cannot afford to maintain the family home.

The only difference now is that it is sons AND daughters and the officers have to demonstrate intelligence before passing out as qualified.

The survival rate of a junior officer on the Western Front was counted in days.

Og

 

[shereads]

Brothers In Arms
Mark Knopfler/Dire Straits

These mist-covered mountains
Are home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Someday you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn
To be brothers in arms

Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I've watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms


-----


"You knew that if you survived, you would go home. For me, there was no escape. I was already home."

~ North Vietnamese veteran

 

[Guest]

 

[oggbashan]

Merchant Seamen

I want to remember the Merchant Seaman who fought, died or survived WWI and WWII.

They faced surface raiders, submarines, aircraft and mines.

If their ship was sunk the ship's owners stopped their pay from that moment. They might survive in a lifeboat or on a liferaft to be picked up but until they started on another ship they weren't paid. Without them the UK couldn't have survived yet we treated them so badly. Many of them went back to sea as soon as they could, not just for the pathetic amount they were paid, but because they saw it as their duty to their country.

They too deserve remembrance.

Og

 

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[Edward Teach]

 

[lewdandlicentious]

 

[Guest]

 

[Edward Teach]

 

[shereads]

For my paternal grandfather who was awarded the Croix de Guerre in WWI, never displayed the medal and would never tell anyone how he won it. He survived his war, in a way, but it destroyed him slowly over decades.

I never knew him. From my dad, I know that when he wasn't drinking, he was a gentleman, a great story-teller, loved dogs, was beloved by everybody's children, and had a way with women, especially ones he wasn't married to. (He looked pretty hot in uniform; I have the photo.)

He was creative, too. It was his idea that his wife - my dad's mother, a large overbearing woman who lived in fear that her son would fall in with beer-drinkers - should move across the country and live next-door to their son's Air Force base ("to keep an eye on me and make sure everybody knew my momma was watchiing over me," my dad would say, wincing)



Some high old times were had with the ladies while the wife was away, until my dad's sister phoned their mom and squealed on their daddy. (That must have been one of the best days' of my father's life. Alone on the other side of the continent. With beer-drinkers. At last! )

Everything else I know about my grandfather, I know from his books. He didn't just read, he filled the margins with pencil notes and underlined favorite passages. He loved the Rubaiyat and Shakespeare and Egyptian tales translated from hieroglyphs, none of which were of much use in a Depression-era mill town. I have his WWI Army binoculars, with his name scratched into the leather case, and a dinner menu from the Mauritania where he was served "French Green Beans," and postcards he sent home from Paris and Monaco. (Noted in pencil: "Famous gambling place.")

I wish he had been able to talk about what happened to him in France. I wish I had known him. But I wouldn't have wished another year of life on him, if it was keeping his war alive.

I'm glad he's at peace. I hope his wife lets him have a beer now and then.

 

[millennium_bard]

Today was the funeral for my father.
A 30+ year veteran of the US Navy
He fought in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam.
He survived those wars, and even Operation Dominic. (A series of H-Bomb tests in the 60's)
He was greeted as a hero when he came back from WWII and Korea, and reviled as a babykiller and spat upon when he returned home from Vietnam.
Though it all he kept his pride in his service to his country and in his family.
He wasn't perfect by any means, but he was my father, and I am proud of him.

He died peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of 80.
His ashes will be scattered at sea from the deck of a Navy ship next month.

 

[Guest]

Today was the funeral for my father.
A 30+ year veteran of the US Navy
He fought in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam.
He survived those wars, and even Operation Dominic. (A series of H-Bomb tests in the 60's)
He was greeted as a hero when he came back from WWII and Korea, and reviled as a babykiller and spat upon when he returned home from Vietnam.
Though it all he kept his pride in his service to his country and in his family.
He wasn't perfect by any means, but he was my father, and I am proud of him.

He died peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of 80.
His ashes will be scattered at sea from the deck of a Navy ship next month.

 

[lewdandlicentious]

Respect, Mill'

 

[shereads]

He died peacefully in his sleep at the ripe old age of 80.

And he had a son who was proud of him. A good life, all in all.

I'm sorry for your loss. You've had more than your share recently.

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

They shall not grow 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!

-- Lawrence Binyon --

Arlington National Cemetery contains 11 Commonwealth burials of the First World War and 19 from the Second World War. This is their memorial:

http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/inscription.jpg

Nice to know I'll be in good company, someday.

Rumple Foreskin

 

[Edward Teach]

 

[shereads]

With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad

By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade

~ ~ ~

Be good to the lad that loves you true
And the soul that was born to die for you,
And whistle and I'll be there.

~ A. E. Housman