VETERANSDAY
This page is dedicated to all the men and women
who served in the U.S. Armed Forces
Veterans Day as we know it today once was known as Armistice Day,and was a holiday observed annually in the U. S. in honor of all men and women, living and dead, who served in the U.S. armed forces in wartime.
Some states observe Veterans Day on November 11, while others on the fourth Monday of October.
Armistice Day, the forerunner of Veterans Day, was proclaimed in 1919 to commemorate the termination of World War I on the 11th day, of the 11th hour, and the 11th month, 1918.  U.S. President Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation eulogizing fallen Allied soldiers and referring to November 11 as Armistice Day, on the first anniversary of the truce.  It became a holiday in the U.S., France, Great Britain, and Canada.
The holiday acquired its present name and broadened significance in the U.S. in 1954.
In Canada it is known as Rememberance Day, and in Great Britain, as Rememberance Sunday.

"The Veteran"
Charles Griffin
I am the farmer whose hand held the plow and musket.
I am the sailor who would not give up the ship.
I am the muleskinner who carried a bayonet through the Halls of Montezuma.
I am the brother who fought brother for the good of the nation.
I am the cowboy who walked through the hail of fire to take San Juan Hill.
I am the immigrant whose carbine won the West.
I am the grocery clerk who held the Rock of the Marne.
I am the janitor whose broom swept the Coral Sea.
I am the teacher who flew freight across the Hump.
I am the mill worker who brought the Third Reich to its knees.
I am the schoolboy who grew a beard patrolling the Mekong Delta.
Every callus on my hand is a record of battle.
Every seam in my face is a line held against an enemy.
Every ache in my body is a reminder of the price of liberty.
I am your past.
I am your future.
I am an American Veteran.

"Memories"
by Karen Offutt

As I looked at him, his eyes returned the stare
His skin was black, mine white, though we didn't care.
Instant brothers, as from one mother's womb,
Now lying together in our earthen tomb.

He held my hand as he gasped for breath,
Our blood mingled as we fought against death.
We had met as youngsters only months before
And now lay dying, old men, from this war.

We talked quietly in our muddy hole;
We shared those moments and bore our souls.
He told of a wife and a baby due.
He spoke of his little boy, now only two.

He was afraid of dying, of leaving them alone.
He started to cry, and in pain, then, to moan.
It seemed insane that moments before,
We both had been healthy - had life by the door.

I had been walking just a few feet ahead
Hadn't noticed the mine planted in the field's green bed.
He lunged ahead, tried to push me away
The mine had exploded; our world turned to gray.

His legs were torn off, as though they didn't exist
His lips had been touched by Death's final kiss.
He gave up his life without any regret
To save me, his brother, he had only just met.

We held each other as the choppers grew near.
We held onto life, so precious and dear.
Both of us knew, they'd arrive too late,
Death was waiting, holding open it's gate.

The tears ceased flowing from his eyes of brown;
He pulled me closer, lifting his head from the ground.
"I'm dying, my brother," he whispered low,
"Tell them at home, so that they will know

That I died for my country, our freedom to save
For others to live, my life gladly I gave.
Don't let them forget us or the blood that we shed,
For to die without cause, when you die, you're just dead."

"Make them remember what their freedom costs.
Help them to know it can be easily lost.
Don't let them forget me or the other Vets
For we gave our all and paid a large debt."

He let out a sigh, as I gave him my vow,
Then he lowered his head, as though in a bow.

A smile appeared upon his face
And I knew he was now in a better place.

I'll never forget him - what he gave up for me
And for you, my brother, because you see,
He died for us all and we cannot forget
He died bravely - a Vietnam Vet.


©copyright Karen Offutt SP5, USA Vietnam 1969-1970

Somebody cares about our GI's!

(Written by a young Army wife....and well done!)

My husband called it Platoon Morale Day in a very serious tone.
My friends and I, in secret, called it "The Joe Party" and giggled about it like schoolgirls, because we are never serious about anything for very long. "Joe" is a nickname for soldiers.

But tomorrow my friends won't be with me and I won't be laughing anymore. Tomorrow, barring last minute call-outs, alerts, or conflicts of schedule, men from my husband's platoon will gather in my living room. I will shuffle around my kitchen amidst the smell of pizza and brownies and try desperately to look busy. And I will try to shut out the sounds coming from my living room, but I know I won't be able to.
You see, they are gathering to watch the movie "Saving Private Ryan" and the giggling I did with my friends was only masking something I'm dreading: having to watch that movie again.

I will never forget the night I sat in the darkened theater as that movie unfolded before my eyes for the first time. With tears streaking down my cheeks, I was shown quite graphically what my husband, an infantry soldier, did for a living. And I realized that there were men out there I had to thank for the ease in which I have lived my life. I have never wanted for food or shelter or warmth. I don't know what it's like to lose my home simply because someone didn't like where I came from. I have the right to voice my opinion on whatever causes touch my heart. The  only devastation that I have ever seen due to war has been on TV. And the last time a member of my family was touched by battle was when my great-great-grandfather died in the Civil War.

There are people out there who have risked their lives and died so that I can lead my cushioned life. I know I probably wouldn't be here today had it not been for those people, men who are no less than heroes in my eyes. To me, a hero is anyone who is willing to sign away years of their life to a cause they believe in. Not all of us possess such fortitude. I have been told that I have courage because I speak out for the few things in my life that are important to me, but I cannot begin to fathom the bravery it would take to go off to war, knowing you might not come home. The gallantry those men, as well as the ones gathered in my living room tomorrow, possess is beyond anything I can comprehend.
Patriotism is in my heart. I cry when I hear taps played. I can't get through All-American Week without goose bumps. I get chills when I see a line of C-130s dot the sky, and one of my favorite songs is the 82nd Airborne Chorus's version of "God Bless the USA." So how does someone like me say thank you? Sometimes the words "thank you" are spoken too late. People are taken from our lives before we get around to telling them how we feel.

In a speech to Congress in 1790, George Washington said, "To be prepared for war is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace." I don't like to think about war because I'm an idealist who hopes that the days of armed conflict will become obsolete during my lifetime. I don't wish for the men in my living room to go off to fight a war, but I know that they are prepared to do so.
The men who will be in my home tomorrow don't know how I feel because it's hard for me to articulate my feelings into spoken words. I don't even think my own husband knows how I truly feel. But I could try. I could tell them I appreciate the sacrifices they've made. I wonder if they know how much I look up to each and every one of them, and that I am truly honored to be in their presence, and in the presence of anyone who has ever served our country. I could just start by saying thank you before it's too late.

So tomorrow, should "Joe Party" occur as scheduled, I'll try to watch the movie, maybe, even though I will no doubt see half of it through tears. When it's over I will gather the courage that comes from being in the company of heroes, in my eyes, and I will start by saying thank you to them.

To those of you who will not be with me tomorrow, please, before the day is through, find someone who has served our country, past or present, and tell them thank you, from the bottom of your heart, for the job they did for us. They deserve that at the very least.
And as always, until my next adventure.

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