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November 09
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"Please wear a poppy", the lady said
And held one forth, but I shook my head.
Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,
And her face was old and lined with care;
But beneath the scars the years had made
There remained a smile that refused to fade.
A boy came whistling down the street,
Bouncing along on carefree feet.
His smile was full of joy and fun,
"Lady", said he, "may I have one"?
When she'd pinned it on he turned to say,
"Why do we wear a poppy today"?
The lady smiled in her wistful way
And answered, "This is Remembrance Day,
And the poppy there is the symbol for
The gallant men who died in war.
And because they did, you and I are free –
That's why we wear a poppy, you see.
"I had a boy about your size,
With golden hair and big blue eyes.
He loved to play and jump and shout,
Free as a bird he would race about.
As the years went by he learned and grew
And became a man – as you will, too.
"He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,
But he'd seemed with us such a little while.
When war broke out and he went away
I still remember his face that day.
When he smiled at me and said, Goodbye,
I'll be back soon, Mum, so please don't cry.
"But the war went on and he had to stay,
And all I could do was wait and pray.
His letters told of the awful fight,
(I can see it still in my dreams at night).
With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,
And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire
"Till at last, at last, the war was won –
And that's why we wear a poppy son".
The small boy turned as if to go,
Then said, "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know.
That sure did sound like an awful fight,
But your son – did he come back all right"?
A tear rolled down each faded cheek,
She shook her head, but didn't speak.
I slunk away in a sort of shame,
And if you were me you'd have done the same,
For our thanks, in giving, if oft delayed,
Though our freedom was bought – and
Thousands paid!
And so when we see a poppy worn,
Let us reflect on the burden borne,
By those who gave their very all.
When asked to answer their country's call
That we at home in peace might live.
Then wear a poppy! Remember – and give.
=======================================
Remembrance Day/Veterans' Day
Let us bow our heads together
Freedom
Is it only to be remembered at the 11th hour of
the 11th day of the 11th month?
I think not!!
No, Freedom isn't Free!
I watched the flag pass by one day,
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young Soldier saluted it,
And then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform
So young, so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert
He'd stand out in any crowd.
I thought how many men like him
Had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil
How many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No, freedom isn't free.
I heard the sound of Taps one night,
When everything was still,
I listened to the bugler play
And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times
That Taps had meant "Amen,"
When a flag had draped a coffin.
Of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children,
Of the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands
With interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard
At the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves.
No, freedom isn't free.
No, Freedom Isn't Free!
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November 06
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The average age of the Canadian military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment either. |
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He's a recent High School graduate;
He was probably an average student,pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howizzitor.He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, |
But he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds
And reassemble it in less time in the dark.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun
or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation,
But he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.
He has two sets of fatigues:
He washes one and wears the other.
He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you;
if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you
In the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons
And weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay
And still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering
And death then he should have in his short lifetime.
He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies,
And helped to create them.
He has wept in public and in private,
For friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body
While at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to
'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand,
Remove their hat, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home,
He defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather,
He is paying the price for our freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the Canadian Fighting Man
That has kept this country free
For over 100 years.
He has asked nothing in return,
Except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always,
for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
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And now we even have women over there in danger,
doing their part in this tradition
of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.
As you go to bed tonight, remember this shot.
A short lull, a little shade
and a picture of loved ones in their helmets.
Prayer
'Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands.
Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families for the selfless acts
they perform for us in our time of need.
Amen.'
When you see this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer
for our ground troops in Afghanistan, sailors on ships,
and airmen in the air, and for those in Iraq.
Of all the gifts you could give a Military Soldier, Sailor,
or Airman, prayer is the very best one.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them.
WE WILL REMEMBER THEM | | | | | | | | |
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90th
Anniversary of the End of the First World War
This year we recognize the 90th Anniversary of the End of the First World War. Remembrance events and activities will be held across Canada and overseas, providing opportunities for Canadians to learn about Canada's role in the First World War.
By remembering Veterans' service and sacrifice, we recognize the tradition of freedom they fought to preserve. Veterans of the First World War are everyday Canadians who became heroes by standing up for what we as a nation believe in: peace, freedom, and justice. The resources found on this page can help ensure that the torch of Remembrance continues to burn brightly in the hearts of all Canadians.
A name from Canada's First World War military heritage that still stirs emotions is "Passchendaele."
Below is a picture from the Battle Of Passchendaele 1917.
More than 24,000 Canadians and 700 Newfoundlanders were killed, wounded or went missing in the Somme Region in 1916. They fulfilled their duty against overwhelming odds. Their unbreakable spirit, unwavering courage and selfless sacrifice so many years ago continues to have a profound influence on our Canadian way of life. Their legacy is our heritage - and, together, we will honour their memory.
Does anyone appreciate what I am trying to do here? I would like a little feedback to let me know. I just don't ever want anyone to ever forget the sacrifices that were made for us and our country, and other countries so that we may live free, by so many young men and women who went off to war leaving loved ones never to return home again.
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November 05
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Here is a little tid bit of information that I thought all of us as Canadians should know.
THE VETERAN ON OUR TEN DOLLAR BILL
If you look at the back right-hand side of a Canadian $10 bill, you will see an old veteran standing at attention near the Ottawa war memorial. His name is Robert Metcalfe and he died last month at the age of 90.
That he managed to live to that age is rather remarkable, given what happened in the Second World War. Born in England , he was one of the 400,000 members of the British Expeditionary Force sent to the mainland where they found themselves facing the new German warfare technique - the Blitzkrieg.
He was treating a wounded comrade when he was hit in the legs by shrapnel. En route to hospital, his ambulance came under fire from a German tank, which then miraculously ceased fire. Evacuated from Dunkirk on HMS Grenade, two of the sister ships with them were sunk.
Recovered, he was sent to allied campaigns in North Africa and Italy . En route his ship was chased by the German battleship Bismarck .
In North Africa he served under General Montgomery against the Desert Fox, Rommel.
Sent into the Italian campaign, he met his future wife, a lieutenant and physiotherapist in a Canadian hospital. They were married in the morning by the mayor of the Italian town, and again in the afternoon by a British padre.
After the war they settled in Chatham where he went into politics and became the warden (chairman) of the county and on his retirement he and his wife moved to Ottawa . At the age of 80 he wrote a book about his experiences.
One day out of the blue he received a call from a government official asking him to go downtown for a photo op. He wasn't told what the photo was for or why they chose him. 'He had no idea he would be on the bill,' his daughter said.
And now you know the story of the old veteran on the $10 bill.
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January 15
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LET US TAKE TIME TO PRAY FOR OUR CANADIAN  OUR AMERICAN  AND OUR BRITISH  SOLDIERS FAR TOO MANY ARE SENT HOME THIS WAY SO THEY NEED OUR SUPPORT AND PRAYERS.
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December 10
The Christmas Truce
On Christmas eve in the trenches in Flanders fields in 1914, suddenly in the still of the freezing night a young German voice began singing "Stille Nacht-Silent Night" Soon, one by one, each German voice, joined in harmony. As soon as they were finished there was a reverent pause. Then from across the trenches a young English soldier sang out loud and clear "God Rest ye merry Gentlemen" and the other
English soldiers sang in harmony. Then both sides sang "Silent Night" together in the two different languages. After a considerable pause the lone figure of a young German walked out between the trenches
into No Man's Land. Then the soldiers on both sides slowly walked out to join him. They shook hands, hugged and traded chocolates, cigarettes, photographs, scotch and cognac. The Christmas carols resounded throughout the frozen fields of Flanders. Soon daylight was upon them and with sad farewells they returned to the trenches to continue the fighting. A sad but true story.
The following poem was written in honour of that time so long ago.
Belleau Wood
by Joseph Gilbert
Oh, the snowflakes fell in silence
over Belleau Wood that night
For a Christmas truce had been declared
By both sides of the fight
As we lay there in our trenches
The silence broke in two
By a German soldier singing
A song that we all knew
Though I did not know the language
The song was "Silent Night"
Then I heard my buddy whisper,
"All is calm and all is bright"
Then the fear and doubt surrounded me
"Cause I'd die if I was wrong
But I stood up in my trench
And I began to sing along
Then across the frozen battlefield
Anothers voice joined in
Until one by one each man became
A singer of the hymn
Then I thought that I was dreaming
For right there in my sight
Stood the German soldier
'Neath the falling flakes of white
And he raised his hand and smiled at me
As if he seemed to say
Here's hoping we both live
To see us find a better way
Then the devil's clock struck midnight
And the skies lit up again
And the battlefield where heaven stood
Was blown to hell again
But for just one fleeting moment
The answer seemed so clear
Heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's just beyond the fear
No, heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's for us to find it here.
Hey wouldn't you like to brighten up the lives of some of the troops overseas fighting when they could be at home. They do it for love of their country so lets show them we care. Here is the number, give them a call, it's free.
| December 04
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The Night Before Christmas
T'was the night before Christmas,
He lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house,
Made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney,
With presents to give,
And to see just who,
In this home did live.
I looked all about,
A strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle,
Just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures,
Of far distant lands.
With medals and badges,
Awards of all kinds,
A sober thought,
Came through my mind.
For this house was different,
It was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier,
Once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping,
Silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor,
In this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle,
The room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured,
A Canadian soldier.
Was this the hero,
Of whom I'd just read?,
Curled up on a poncho,
The floor for a bed?
I realized the families,
That I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers,
Who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world,
The children would play,
And grownups would celebrate,
A bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom,
Each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers,
Like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder,
How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas eve,
In a land far from home.
The very thought brought,
A tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees,
And started to cry.
The soldier awakened,
And I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry,
This life is my choice.
I fight for freedom,
I don't ask for more,
My life is my god,
My country, my corps."
The soldier rolled over,
And drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it,
I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still,
And we both shivered,
From the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave,
On that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honour,
So willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over,
With a voice, soft and pure,
Whispered, "carry on Santa,
It's Christmas day, all is secure."
One look at my watch,
And I knew he was right,
"Merry Christmas my friend,
And to all a good night."
This poem was written by a Peace Keeping
Soldier stationed overseas.
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November 30 
A DIFFERENT CHRISTMAS POEM
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps Canadian, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "It's really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at 'Dieppe on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in that Korean Land',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
Something red and, white, ... a Canadian flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a trench with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
"So go back inside," he said, "harbour no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."
I received this from a dear friend and I thought it was a good idea too so I am posting it here so maybe you can do it too.
Something cool that Xerox is doing
If you go to this web site, www.LetsSayThanks.com you can pick out a thank you card and Xerox will print it and it will be sent to a soldier that is currently serving in Iraq . You can't pick out who gets it, but it will go to some member of the armed services.
How AMAZING it would be if we could get everyone we know to send one!!! This is a great site. Please send a card. It is FREE and it only takes a second.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if the soldiers received a bunch of these? Our guys and gals over there need to know we are behind them...
Also:
While this is directed towards United States Soldiers, it can be done in any
country that has hospitalized Veterans. Unfortunately, I do not have the
addresses for the other countries who have wounded Soldiers in military
hospitals. This can also be done for Soldiers who have served and are now in a
Veteran Nursing Home.
A GREAT IDEA!!!
WHEN YOU ARE MAKING OUT YOUR CHRISTMAS CARD LIST THIS YEAR, PLEASE INCLUDE THE FOLLOWING:
A RECOVERING AMERICAN SOLDIER
C/O WALTER REED ARMY MEDICAL CENTER
6900 GEORGIA AVENUE, NW
WASHINGTON, D.C. 20307-5001
Even our soldiers at rest are not forgotten at Christmas time.
November 13
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REMEMBRANCE DAY
Red poppies worn above the heart
Ever reminding us of the sacrifice
Many lives taken from them,
Ended forever.
Memorials made to remember them
Bring us together on this special day
Releasing the sadness
Allowing us to be free
Never should it happen again.
Conquering heroes are enemies
Enemies are conquering heroes.
Don't ever forget
Another's sacrifice for
You and your country.
This was written by a student in 2004.
TRIPLES with EMMA | | | | | | | November 12 I absolutely loved this story and got permission from the Blogger to put it in my Veteran Space. It belongs here. Thank you so much Mitch.
Quote
Veterans Day Entry
A soldier of the Great War
It's perhaps my most frightening childhood recollection — a funny-talking, lanky giant of a man with missing front teeth who was always threatening to cut my ears off.
There was no avoiding him whenever the family visited Grandma during the summer months and Christmas vacation.
His name was Gus, and he was the town marshal of Echo, Minn. For some reason, he enjoyed telling children he would cut their ears off. Nobody who lived there believed him, but I was just visiting — and for several years was certain that if Gus ever caught me, I'd be in for a painful amputation of my auditory apparatus.
Next week's annual celebration of Veterans Day brings Gus to mind. The remembrance was originally known as Armistice Day, and commemorated the sacrifices made by America's fighting men in the Great War, what we now refer to as World War I.
It was fixed on Nov. 11 because at 11 a.m. on that day in 1918 — the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month — a truce went into effect ending four years of horrendous fighting that took the lives of more than 8.5 million men.
Both of my grandfathers served in that war, but they died before I got to know them. Growing up, though, I knew or met many World War I vets, all of whom are now gone from this world. Gus, however, was the only one I knew who had an Armistice Day story that I recall — and he was on the wrong side.
German-born Gustav Soderman had been a teenage infantryman in a Prussian Guards unit in the latter part of the Great War, serving alongside his father, who had arranged for Gus' induction into the regiment.
The two fought the French for months together, until Gus suffered the ultimate trauma of witnessing his dad's death in combat.
Gus was still in the trenches of France on Nov. 11, 1918, when everything grew quiet, and the officers were summoned to headquarters. When they returned, they told the men the war was over and they should go home.
There was just one catch: no transport; they'd have to walk.
This meant long treks for most of the men in the unit; in Gus' case it was more than 300 miles. The men shouldered their Mauser rifles, split up into small groups and began marching east. It took Gus and his group several weeks to make it home. To get food, or money to buy food during the journey, Gus' group occasionally resorted to armed robbery, but he said they never hurt anybody.
There were hard times in post-war Germany, and Gus decided to emigrate to the United States, where he had relatives on the Minnesota prairie.
Not knowing English didn't faze him. After getting off the ship on the East Coast, he showed train station personnel a picture postcard he'd been sent of the Echo train depot. Although there were many train changes along the way, the postcard — and the kindness of strangers — got Gus to his new home.
There he learned English, worked as a farmhand, weathered the Great Depression and World War II, and in his later years served as marshal of that town of about 300 people.
From age 3 to about 5, I passionately avoided his presence, something not always easy to do in a small town.
One day, while I was running away from what I thought was an imminent ear attack, my mom sensed something was wrong. After much coaxing, I told her why I was frightened. She thought it was funny, and tried to convince me that Gus was just kidding, but I wasn't buying. So she called Gus over — we were at the local restaurant — and the giant himself explained that he said that to all the children, but was only joshing: My ears were safe.
I was still suspicious until I discussed the matter with some similar-aged cousins, who convinced me it was true. I was so relieved.
I didn't learn until years later that Gus, who also turned out to be a shirttail relative, had served in the kaiser's army.
It's a good thing, too. That probably would have scared me even more.
Prussian soldiers, cerca 1914. November 08
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Table of Honor
Every year at our Legion when we have our Remembrance Day Banquet we reserve a "Table of Honor" for those who can't be with us. There are four places set, one for each branch of the Armed Forces and a hat representing each. One for Army, the Air Force, the Navy and one for the Essex Scottish as you can see in the picture. Beside each plate there is a glass but it is turned upside down because they can't be here to toast with us. On each plate there is a Red Rose representing love of family and country; Lemon for the bitter fate they had to endure and Salt for the many tears they shed.
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
John McCrae
His poem speaks of Flanders fields, but the subject is universal – the fear of the dead that they will be forgotten, that their death will have been in vain. Remembrance, as symbolized by the Poppy,
is our eternal answer which belies that fear.
Sadly, Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae died of pneumonia at Wimereux, France on 28 January 1918. He was 45 years old.
I was sent this verse which is an answer to Flanders Fields by our Legion Padre Rev. Olav Kitchen and I hope you enjoy. It goes like this:
In Flanders Now
Written at the close of World War I, in answer to Colonel McCrae's well-known poem, "In Flanders Now" was used at the unveiling of the tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Washington. Printed on a card with the Belgium National Anthem and sold by the Federation of Women's Clubs, a million dollars were raised and used for the restoration of the Louvain Library. As we read the poem now in the aftermath of another world war, it awakens many conflicting emotions that search our hearts.
In Flanders Now
We have kept faith, ye Flanders' dead,
Sleep well beneath those poppies red
That mark your place.
The torch your dying hands did throw,
We've held it high before the foe,
And answered bitter blow for blow,
In Flanders fields.
And where your heroes' blood was spilled,
The guns are now forever stilled
And silent grown.
There is no moaning of the slain,
There is no cry of tortured pain,
And blood will never flow again,
In Flanders fields.
Forever holy in our sight
Shall be those crosses gleaming white,
That guard your sleep.
Rest you in peace, the task is done,
The fight you left us we have won,
And Peace on Earth has just begun,
In Flanders now.
Edna Jaques, Canadian
Let us never forget to remember those brave souls at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month who gave up their lives so that we may enjoy the freedoms we have today.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them.
I have had a comment from a friend who I admire greatly and I would like to share them. His name is Seth and he is a fireman. I was very touched by his words.
"We must remember. If we do not, the sacrifice of those many thousands of Canadian lives will be meaningless. They died for us, for their homes and families and friends, for a collection of traditions they cherished and a future they believed in. They died for Canada. The meaning of their sacrifice rests with our collective national consciousness... our future is their monument.
As Canadians we often take for granted our current way of life, our freedom to participate in cultural and political events, and our right to live under a government of our choice. The Charter of Rights and Freedoms in our constitution ensures that all Canadians enjoy protection under the law. The Canadians who went off to war in distant lands went in the belief that such rights and freedoms were being threatened. They truly believed that "Without freedom there can be no ensuring peace and without peace no enduring freedom."
In remembering their service and their sacrifice, we recognize the tradition of freedom they fought to preserve. These men and women had faith in the future and by their acts gave us the will to preserve peace for all time. On Remembrance Day, we acknowledge the courage and gallantry of those who served their country.
Remembrance Day is NOT about glorifying the military.
It is about paying respect to those that gave the ultimate sacrifice. *Big Sigh* "
Oh Seth, I quite agree and couldn't have said it better. Thank you very much as that is exactly what this Space is all about.
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HIGH FLIGHT
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
Officer John G. Magee, Jr. - November, 1941
A Short Biography of John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
John Gillespie Magee, Jr. was born in Shanghai, China 9 June 1922. As he reached high school age, he played rugby in England and spent three years there. Meanwhile, his parents had returned to the United States and his father, Reverend Magee, became a chaplain at Yale University. John Magee Jr. returned to the United States in 1939 to attend Yale.
The Second World War began September 1939. In October, 1940, at age 18, John Magee Jr. went to Canada and enrolled in the RCAF. After his flight training, he went back to England a commissioned pilot officer. In the course of his training in the spitfire, he was assigned to make a high altitude flight "into the stratosphere". On landing, he went to his quarters and there wrote his now famous sonnet on the back of a letter to his mother.
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Let It Never be Forgotten
And the Canadians came
To Answer the call
Leaving a homeland unthreatened and safe
Undeniably corageous
A strength bestowed
With unshakeable oride
Through two world wars
And conflicts since
Liberating for others
Dreams of freedom
Unfaltering in conviction
Let it never be forgotten
Such sacrifices
Of blood and spirit.
Written by Kevin Harvey from his latest book "So Far..."
TRIPLES with EMMA
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By Master Warrant Officer Tim Relihan
This is well worth seeing and sharing . It is an artist's rendition of a scroll, produced by an artist in the Borden, Ont area which lists the names of all the fallen in Afghanistan and has a candle for each. The scroll is up to date - let's hope it doesn't need to have more names added! The picture has been enlarged in order to see the names better.
God bless them all. Lest We Forget! Lest We Forget!
November 07
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" Taps"
Here is something Every North American should know. Until I read this, I didn't know, but I checked it out and it's true:
We have all heard the haunting song, " Taps." It's the song that gives us that lump in our throats and usually tears in our eyes. But, do you know the story behind the song? If not, I think you will be interested to find out about its humble beginnings.
Reportedly, it all began in 1862 during the Civil War, when Union Army Captain Robert Ellicombe was with his men near Harrison's Landing in Virginia. The Confederate Army was on the other side of the narrow strip of land. During the night, Captain Ellicombe heard the moans of a soldier who lay severely wounded on the field. Not knowing if it was a Union or Confederate soldier, the Captain decided to risk his life and bring the stricken man back for medical attention Crawling on his stomach through the gunfire, the Captain reached the stricken soldier and began pulling him toward his encampment. When the Captain finally reached his own lines, he discovered it was actually a Confederate soldier, but the soldier was dead.
The Captain lit a lantern and suddenly caught his breath and went numb with shock. In the dim light, he saw the face of the soldier. It was his own son. The boy had been studying music in the South when the war broke out. Without telling his father, the boy enlisted in the Confederate Army.
The following morning, heartbroken, the father asked permission of his superiors to give his son a full military burial, despite his enemy status. His request was only partially granted. The Captain had asked if he could have a group of Army band members play a funeral dirge for his son at the funeral.
The request was turned down since the soldier was a Confederate. But, out of respect for the father, they did say they could give him only one musician. The Captain chose a bugler. He asked the bugler to play a series of musical notes he had found on a piece of paper in the pocket of the dead youth's uniform.
This wish was granted. The haunting melody, we now know as "Taps" used at military funerals was born.
The words are:
Day is done.
Gone the sun.
From the lakes
From the hills.
From the sky.
All is well.
Safely rest.
God is nigh!
Fading light.
Dims the sight.
And a star.
Gems the sky.
Gleaming bright.
From afar.
Drawing nigh.
Falls the night.
Thanks and praise.
For our days.
Neath the sun
Neath the stars.
Neath the sky.
As we go.
This we know.
God is nigh.
I too have felt the chills while listening to "Taps" but I have never seen all the words to the song until now. I didn't even know there was more than one verse. I also never knew the story behind the song and I didn't know if you had either so I thought I'd pass it along.
I now have an even deeper respect for the song than I did before.
Remember Those Lost and Harmed While Serving Their Country.
Also Remember Those Who Have Served And Returned;
and for those presently serving in the Armed Forces.
TRIPLES with EMMA
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November 21 
A Canadian Soldier, I love this one!!!!
A Canadian Soldier was attending some university courses between deployments. He had completed tours in Bosnia , and just returned from Afghanistan .
One of the courses had a professor who was an avowed atheist. One day the professor shocked the class when he came in. He Looked to the ceiling and flatly stated, "God, if you are real, then I want you to knock me off this platform. I'll give you exactly
15 minutes."
The Lecture room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop. Ten minutes went by and the professor proclaimed, "Here I am God. I'm still waiting."
It got down to the last couple of minutes when the Soldier got out of his chair, went up to the professor, and punched him; knocking him off the platform. The professor was out cold.
The Soldier went back to his seat and sat there, silently. The other students were shocked and sat there looking on in silence. The professor eventually came to, noticeably shaken, looked at the Soldier and asked, "What the hell is the matter with you? Why did you do that?"
The Soldier calmly replied, "God was too busy today protecting Canada's Soldiers who are protecting your right to say stupid shit and act like an asshole, so He sent me."
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