Veterans Day

G

GonzoReiter

Guest
November 11

veterans.gif

 
Thank you Gonzo for starting this thread. My dad was a veteran of WWII and my son a veteran of the Libya conflict.

I just finished watching Viet Nam veterans returning to Viet Nam on the Military channel. Quite moving.

We owe those who served our country our graditude and thanks.

Last night we watched an hour of "Family Jewels" on A & E. Gene Simmons and his daughter Sophie did a tour of Camp Pendleton and basic training, then visited a veterans hospital. I had seen it earlier this year, but it was still moving the second time around. Kiss then performed with a medley of military songs without their costumes.
 
"If you are able,
save for them a place
inside of you
and save one backward glance
when you are leaving
for the places they
can no longer go.

Be not ashamed to say
you loved them,
though you may
or may not have always.

Take what they have left
and what they have taught you
with their dying
and keep it with your own.

And in that time
when men decide and feel safe
to call war insane,
take one moment to embrace
those gentle heroes
you left behind."
Maj. Michael O'Donnell
1 Jan 70
Dak To, Vietnam
 
"If you are able,
save for them a place
inside of you
and save one backward glance
when you are leaving
for the places they
can no longer go.

Be not ashamed to say
you loved them,
though you may
or may not have always.

Take what they have left
and what they have taught you
with their dying
and keep it with your own.

And in that time
when men decide and feel safe
to call war insane,
take one moment to embrace
those gentle heroes
you left behind."


Maj. Michael O'Donnell
1 Jan 70
Dak To, Vietnam



:clap: Beautiful ..... thank you, Gonzo! :clap:

Army Navy AirForce Marines
 
God Bless the women and men who fought and those who continue to fight and to those who defend and protect our country.
americanflag.gif
 
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.
 
Now when I was a young man and I carried my pack
and I lived the free life of the rover
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty out back
I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915 my country said "Son
It's time to stop rambling, there's work to be done"
And they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As the ships pulled away from the quay
And amid all the tears, flag waving and cheers
We sailed off to Galipolli

And how I remember that terrible day
How our blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs to the slaughter.

Johnnie Turk was ready, oh he primed himself well
He rained us with bullets and he showered us with shell
And in five minutes flat we were all blown to hell
nearly blew us all back home to Australia.

But the band played Waltzing Matilda
as we stuck to bury our slain
We burned ours and the Turks buried theirs
and we started all over again

Those who were living just tried to survive
In a mad world of blood death and fire
And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive
While around me the corpses piled higher

Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head
And when I awoke in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done and I wished I was dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
For no more I'll go Waltzing Matilda
All round the green bush far and near
For to hump tent and pegs a man needs both legs
No more Waltzing Matilda for me.

They collected the crippled, the wounded, the maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled in to Circular Key
And I looked at the place where my legs used to be
I thanked Christ there was no one there waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to Pity

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
as they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood there and stared
And turned all their faces away

So now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march
Renewing their dreams of past glory

I see the old men all tired, stiff and sore
The weary old heroes of a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask myself the same question

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
And the old men still answer the call
But year after year, the numbers get fewer
Some day none will march there at all

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong
Who'll come a waltzing Matilda with me.​
 
How do you do young willie mcbride,
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside,
And rest for a while ’neath the warm summer sun,
I’ve been walking all day and I’m nearly done
I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the great fall-in in 1916
I hope you died well and I hope you died clean
Or young willie mcbride was it slow and obscene.

Did they beat the drum slowly did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

Did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
Although you died back in 1916
In that faithful heart are you forever 19
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Enclosed then forever behind a glass frame
In an old photograph torn, battered and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame.

Did they beat the drum slowly did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

The sun now it shines on the green fields of france
There’s a warm summer breeze makes the red poppies dance
And look how the sun shines from under the clouds
There’s no gas, no barbwire, there’s no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard it’s still no man’s land
The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand
To man’s blind indifference to his fellow man
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned.

Did they beat the drum slowly did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

Now young willie mcbride I can’t help wonder why
Do those who lie here know why did they die
Did they believe when they answered the call
Did they really believe that this war would end wars
Well the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain
The killing and the dying were all done in vain
For young willie mcbride it all happened again,
And again and again and again and again

Did they beat the drum slowly did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest​
 
My father fought in WWII in the Phillipines where he was surrendered to the Japanese in 1941. He spent the rest of the war in a POW camp and barely survived. Today is for him and his mates, although there aren't many of them left. My dad died five years ago at age 82. I'm grateful for the sacrifice he made for our country and proud to be his daughter. I love you, Dad.
 
Now when I was a young man and I carried my pack​

and I lived the free life of the rover​

From the Murray's green basin to the dusty out back​

I waltzed my Matilda all over.​

Then in 1915 my country said "Son​

It's time to stop rambling, there's work to be done"​

And they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun​

And they sent me away to the war.​


And the band played Waltzing Matilda​

As the ships pulled away from the quay​

And amid all the tears, flag waving and cheers​

We sailed off to Galipolli​


And how I remember that terrible day​

How our blood stained the sand and the water​

And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay​

We were butchered like lambs to the slaughter.​


Johnnie Turk was ready, oh he primed himself well​

He rained us with bullets and he showered us with shell​

And in five minutes flat we were all blown to hell​

nearly blew us all back home to Australia.​


But the band played Waltzing Matilda​

as we stuck to bury our slain​

We burned ours and the Turks buried theirs​

and we started all over again​


Those who were living just tried to survive​

In a mad world of blood death and fire​

And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive​

While around me the corpses piled higher​


Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head​

And when I awoke in my hospital bed​

And saw what it had done and I wished I was dead​

Never knew there were worse things than dying​

For no more I'll go Waltzing Matilda​

All round the green bush far and near​

For to hump tent and pegs a man needs both legs​

No more Waltzing Matilda for me.​


They collected the crippled, the wounded, the maimed​

And they shipped us back home to Australia​

The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane​

Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla​

And as our ship pulled in to Circular Key​

And I looked at the place where my legs used to be​

I thanked Christ there was no one there waiting for me​

To grieve and to mourn and to Pity​


And the band played Waltzing Matilda​

as they carried us down the gangway​

But nobody cheered, they just stood there and stared​

And turned all their faces away​


So now every April, I sit on my porch​

And I watch the parade pass before me​

And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march​

Renewing their dreams of past glory​


I see the old men all tired, stiff and sore​

The weary old heroes of a forgotten war​

And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"​

And I ask myself the same question​


And the band played Waltzing Matilda​

And the old men still answer the call​

But year after year, the numbers get fewer​

Some day none will march there at all​


Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda​

Who'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me​

And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong​

Who'll come a waltzing Matilda with me.​
Thankyou for posting that Gonzo......that song always brings a tear to my eye.
 
I agree with Dingo, thankyou for thinking of the Aussies as well Gonzo, very much appreciated.

To all the men and women who fought to save our countries and their families, a very big thankyou to you all.
 
Thank you Gonzo, for the poems and songs, they bring tears to me as well.

And thank you to all those who gave so much--"the last full measure of devotion."
 
Shall we go back to the Civil War? The BarnGod's Great Grandfather on his mother's side was a Civil War officer. He wrote a poem that is now published. I'm copying and pasting this now from the internet.

THE DAISY IN THE SOUTH
by Frederick A. Niles
(?-1906)

Where the troopers fed their horses, where the bummers bivouacked,
Now with each recurring summer all that highway may be tracked
By the glory of the presence -- so the stars the sky illume --
Of a million northern daisies in the beauty of their bloom.

Thus the kindly hand of nature hides the scars that war has made;
Vines have twined the grounded musket, blossoms wreathe the broken blade;
Tiny timid birds have nested safely in the cannons' mouth
Ever since Tecumseh Sherman gave the daisy to the South.

There is a story told in Georgia, 'tis in everybody's mouth,
That was old Tecumseh Sherman brought the daisy to the South;
Ne'er the little blossomed stranger in that land was known to be
'Till he marched his blue coat columns from Atlanta to the sea.

Everywhere in field and valley and the murm'ring pines among
Where a gallant Union soldier pressed his foot, a daisy sprung,
And its coming seemed to many like a promise from on high,
Given there in benediction where Old Glory floated by.


http://www.civilwarpoetry.org/union/postwar/daisy.html

Niles was my MIL's maiden name. I have photocopies of the poem in his handwriting as well as copies typed and handwritten of his journals. I also have a book a cousin published of MY Southern ancestor's letters home to his family in New Orleans from battlefields and when he was a prisoner of war.

It may not be as current as other poems, but still a result of a war.
 

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