Defining a vet.
He or she is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being... a person who
offered some of their life's most vital years in the service of their
country, and who sacrificed their ambitions so others would not have to
sacrifice theirs.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another... or didn't
come back at all. He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi
Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel
carriers didn't run out of fuel.
He is the barroom loudmouth, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is
outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of
exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She (or he) is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep
sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang. She is the WAC or the WAVE in the rear echelons, fighting sleep to see that all runs smoothly for her comrades.
He is the Parris Island drill instructor who has never seen combat, but
has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang
members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals
with a prosthetic hand.
He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass
him by.
He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose
presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the
memory of all anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on
the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket... palsied now and
aggravatingly slow... who helped liberate a Nazi death camp & who wishes
all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares
come.
He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is
nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the
finest, greatest nation ever known.
So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just
lean over and say: "THANK YOU."
That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any
medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.
It's the soldier, not the reporter, who gave us our freedom of the press.
It's the soldier, not the poet, who gave us our freedom of speech.
It's the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gave us our freedom to
demonstrate. It's the soldier, who salutes the flag, Who serves others
with respect for the flag, And whose coffin is draped by the flag, who
allows the protester to burn the flag. Prayer for our Servicemen; 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.
He or she is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being... a person who
offered some of their life's most vital years in the service of their
country, and who sacrificed their ambitions so others would not have to
sacrifice theirs.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another... or didn't
come back at all. He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi
Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel
carriers didn't run out of fuel.
He is the barroom loudmouth, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is
outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of
exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She (or he) is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep
sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang. She is the WAC or the WAVE in the rear echelons, fighting sleep to see that all runs smoothly for her comrades.
He is the Parris Island drill instructor who has never seen combat, but
has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang
members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals
with a prosthetic hand.
He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass
him by.
He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose
presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the
memory of all anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on
the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket... palsied now and
aggravatingly slow... who helped liberate a Nazi death camp & who wishes
all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares
come.
He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is
nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the
finest, greatest nation ever known.
So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just
lean over and say: "THANK YOU."
That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any
medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.
It's the soldier, not the reporter, who gave us our freedom of the press.
It's the soldier, not the poet, who gave us our freedom of speech.
It's the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gave us our freedom to
demonstrate. It's the soldier, who salutes the flag, Who serves others
with respect for the flag, And whose coffin is draped by the flag, who
allows the protester to burn the flag. Prayer for our Servicemen; 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.