Memorial Day

[Annie]

http://www.lasvegassun.com/sunbin/stories/nat-gen/2006/may/27/052706757.html

Today: May 27, 2006 at 150 PDT

Soldier Gives His Purple Heart to Teen

ASSOCIATED PRESS

SYRACUSE, N.Y. (AP) -

A soldier said he gave his Purple Heart to a 13-year-old student who won a contest for writing letters to American troops out of gratitude.

"It's important what these children do for us in sending these letters," Staff Sgt. Phillip Trackey said after giving away the medal he received for injuries in Iraq. "The letters mean so much to us. So I thought this was a big way of giving something back to them."

Trackey and a group of fellow Fort Drum soldiers attended a ceremony Thursday at West Genesee Middle School in honor of seventh-grader Fatima Faisal, who was a regional winner in the Letters to the Front contest sponsored by the Veterans of Foreign Wars Post.

After Faisal received her prizes, Trackey stood and held up his Purple Heart for everyone to see. Then, he pinned it on the girl's blouse.

Fatima said she didn't know what to say or do.

"I'm touched. I'm speechless," Fatima said. "This is the sweetest thing ever."

Her letter was chosen the best out of more than 300 letters written in the age 12-18 category in the central New York region. Faisal wrote, "I give you great respect because you had a choice to join the military and because of your bravery and courage you decided to join."

She won a T-shirt, a certificate and a $50 savings bond.

But the Purple Heart was the top prize, Faisal said, adding she hoped to mount it in a frame to hang in her room.

"When he gave it to her, I was getting chills," said Nadia Faisal, Fatima's mother. "I told her 'Oh my gosh, Fatima. You should treasure it forever.'"

Trackey, of Glens Falls, said he received the medal for shoulder and head wounds he suffered when a bomb went off near him in Baghdad in January 2005. Trackey said his Purple Heart was just collecting dust at home.

 

[Annie]

via http://somesoldiersmom.blogspot.com/2006/05/memorial-day-2006-yes-in-my-name.html

Remember
Remember, I will still be here,
As long as you hold me, in your memory
Remember, when your dreams have ended,
Time can be transcended,
Just remember me
I am the one star that keeps burning, so brightly,
It is the last light, to fade into the rising sun
I'm with you,
Whenever you tell, My story,
For I am all I've done
Remember, I will still be here,
As long as you hold me, in your memory,
Remember me
I am that one voice, in the cold wind,
That whispers,
And if you listen, you'll hear me call across the sky
As long as, I still can reach out, and touch you,
Then I will never die
Remember, I'll never leave you,
If you will only,
Remember me
Remember me...
Remember, I will still be here,
As long as you hold me,
In your memory
Remember, When your dreams have ended,
Time can be transcended,
I live forever,
Remember me
Remember me,
Remember... me...​

"Remember" (from the sound track of the movie "Troy")
lyrics by Cynthia Weil, music by James Horner, as performed by Josh Groban


Some Soldier's Mom at 9:15 PM

 

[Annie]

Video of the memorial stone of Paul R. Smith, first Medal of Honor recepient in War on terror. Have hankie ready, especially for the song at the end:

http://www.army.mil/medalofhonor/smith/video/arlington.html

 

[Annie]

This stands in contrast to what his mother has been spouting the past 2 years:

http://www.blackfive.net/main/2005/08/army_specialist.html

Army Specialist Casey Sheehan - Someone You Should (Have) Know(n)
Posted By Blackfive

Casey Sheehan grew up in a devout Catholic home. He served as an altar boy and then as a key member of his church's youth group for years.

When he was old enough, Casey joined the Boy Scouts, becoming the very second Eagle Scout out of his troop.

He enlisted in the Army when he was twenty years old. He decided to be a mechanic. He would undergo Combat Lifesaver training - a class on how to give IVs and treat trauma only second in intense learning to combat medic training. He was also certified to assist with giving communion to soldiers while in the field.

Specialist Sheehan re-enlisted in the Army in 2004 knowing full well that he could be sent into a combat zone.

Casey Sheehan was a Humvee mechanic with the 1st Battalion, 82nd Field Artillery Regiment.

On April 3rd, 2004, forces loyal to Shi'ite cleric Muqtada al'Sadr stormed police stations and government offices in Sadr City (a city of over 2 million). They knew the Americans would come, and they wanted a fight. Muqtada Sadr was working them up into a religious frenzy. And he had his thugs murder anyone who he thought might stand in his way - even other Shi'ite clerics. His forces were known as the Mahdi Army.

American forces quickly surrounded Muqtada al'Sadr's quarters.

On April 4th, 2004, al'Sadr's Mahdi forces blocked roadways and bridges with burning tires, vehicles and trash. Visibility was less than 300 meters anywhere in the city. They began to attack American vehicles on patrol throughout Sadr City - some were protecting Shia worshipers (Holy Arbayeen) while others were escorting city government vehicles.

A battle raged across Sadr City. Insurgents assaulted American troops while looters and mobs formed and stormed through the streets. Word spread quickly across the American FOBs that there was trouble.

Soldiers of the 2nd Battalion, 5th Cavalry Regiment were ambushed with RPGs and pinned down and dying. While fighting off an attack himself, the Commander of the 2/5th, LTC Volesky, called for help. A Quick Reaction Force (QRF) was formed of volunteers - their mission was to go out and rescue the American troops.

Casey Sheehan's Sergeant asked for volunteers. Sheehan had just returned from Mass. After Sheehan volunteered once, the Sergeant asked Sheehan again if he wanted to go on the mission. According to many reports (and according to his own mother), Casey responded, "Where my Chief goes, I go."

The QRF was launched. Not long after entering the Mahdi area, the QRF was channeled onto a dead-end street where the roofs were lined with snipers, RPGs, and even some militia throwing burning tires onto the vehicles. The Mahdi blocked the exit and let loose with everything they had.

Sheehan's vehicle was hit with multiple RPGs and automatic-weapons fire.

Specialist Casey Sheehan and Corporal Forest J. Jostes were killed.

A second QRF was formed - all volunteers - to go rescue the first. Specialist Ahmed Cason was hit in the second QRF - but kept fighting until he bled to death.

Seven men died with Casey Sheehan on Sunday, April 4th, 2004.

They were Spc. Robert R. Arsiaga, Spc. Ahmed Cason, Sgt. Yihjyh L. "Eddie" Chen, Spc. Stephen D. Hiller, Spc. Israel Garza, Cpl. Forest J. Jostes, and Sgt. Michael W. Mitchell.

It was Palm Sunday.

Palm Sunday commemorates the day that Jesus entered Jerusalem. Back then, the palm frond was a symbol of victory - laid beneath the feet of those of the highest honor and triumph. Some believe it was this honor fit for a king that forced Jesus's enemies to act and crucify him.

In recognition of Casey, the Catholic Chapel at Fort Hood, Texas (where Sheehan was stationed) named the Knights of Columbus chapter the "Casey Austin Sheehan Council".

Casey also received the Bronze Star for his Valor that day.

Palm fronds for the most honored.

[Click here for the Someone You Should Know index.]

Posted by Blackfive | August 22, 2005

 

[Annie]

http://www.americanthinker.com/articles.php?article_id=5532

Just One Old Ernie Pyle
May 27th, 2006

As a boy of four in ’44 I missed out on his style;

But at thirty-six in ’76 I learned more of Ernie Pyle.

To read his tributes to our troops always brought the question why,

That my own war’s correspondents didn’t hold our troops as high.

I’d witnessed acts of bravery as great as World War Two,

But press accounts of those same acts were seldom, they were few;

More likely to be displayed in morning print or evening news,

Were American acts of cruelty to prop up protestors’ views.



Ernie placed himself in battle’s midst, not seeking safer shelter;

He sought the trenches sought the fight, sought out the helter-skelter.

He told the folks back in the States grim truths about their brave,

Providing families insights they could reread, they could save.

Ol’ Ernie gave the folks back home proud memories they could treasure,

Unlike sly Walter Cronkite feeding enemies evening pleasure.

Nope, Ernie wrote of men he loved up until his final deadline,

Unlike Arnett and other creeps seeking only a bigger headline.



Where did they go those of the press who believed America good?

The ones who’d write about our troops and for the things they stood?

What madness does possess them that they now extol our losses,

Finding fault in all we try to do, debasing all our causes?

We serve, we fight so that they might have freedom to convey,

The good things that we’re doing, the good we do each day.

But instead they undermine us in their sniping, gloating style;

I’d swap every damned one of ‘em for just one old Ernie Pyle.



Russ Vaughn, 2d Bn, 327th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, Vietnam 65-66

 

[Annie]

 

[Annie]

We are young, We have died. Remember us.
We have done what we could but until it is finished
it is not done.

We have given our lives, but until it is finished
no one can know what our lives gave.

Our deaths are not ours; they are yours;
they will mean what you make them.

Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace
and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say;
it is you who must say this.

We leave you our deaths. Give them meaning.
We were young, We have died. Remember us.
- - - Archibald Mac Leish​

 

[William Joyce]

Salute.

 

[Annie]

http://www.spectator.org/dsp_article.asp?art_id=9877

They Did God's Work
By Ben Stein
Published 5/26/2006 11:59:59 PM

Remarks delivered on Saturday evening in Arlington, Virginia, at the Memorial Day weekend seminar and grief camp of TAPS -- the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors.


THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME be a part of your family. This is the most important family on the planet right now. There is a First Family on Pennsylvania Avenue, but this is the real first family. The family of those who have paid the ultimate price to keep us free and dignified and alive.

A bad day for me is when I get stuck in traffic or have a toothache or notice that I have gained weight or my teenage son is surly.

A bad day for you is realizing that the only man or woman you have ever loved is gone for this lifetime.

A difficult day for me with my wife is when she's out at her bridge lesson and comes home late so my dinner is late.

A difficult day for you is when you wake up from a dream that your husband or wife or son or daughter or mother or father was alive and laughing with you and realize you'll never see that loveable person again for the rest of your natural lives.

A bad day for an ordinary American is seeing the stock market go down or watching his son sneak a beer.

A bad day for you is a sort of loneliness, a hopeless, cruel loneliness that cuts right to the bone like the cut of a knife, that tells you that there is no one there to hug you, no one to kiss you, no one to fix the kids' bikes, no one to wipe away the tears that just come uncontrollably when you least expect them.

A bad day for me is getting stuck in an airport security line. A bad day for you is being on the plane alone.

Yet your loneliness has meaning. Your loneliness, your pain, is the mortar and concrete that anchors the nation. The sacrifice your loved ones made, the sacrifice you made, that your kids made, is what makes the whole American world safe from terror.

Your loved ones' lives had what we all want: meaning. The knowledge you were doing something big for others. That is EVERYTHING in life.

Wall Street does not have it. Hollywood does not have it. They're just in it for the fame and the money.

Your loved ones were in it for unselfishness, for kindness, for love of one's fellow man. There is no higher meaning on this earth.

The media try to rob your husbands' and wives' and kids' lives of meaning saying this war is not about anything.

They're wrong and they say what they say because they don't see the truth. They print a story on the front page about Marines killing civilians in a town in Iraq and if they did, it was wrong. But the big media never report a MARINE throwing himself on a bomb to protect an Iraqi child, or a Marine giving his life to rid a town of murderers or a Marine or an Army man or woman or a Navy Seal or a Coast Guardsman offering up his life so that Iraqi human beings can have the same freedoms and rights we take for granted here in America.

The media are like grave robbers, robbing you of the certain knowledge that your spouses gave their lives for something deeply worthwhile: human dignity.

Your loved ones' lives and deaths had as much meaning at the lives and deaths of every American who died for freedom from Valley Forge to the Battle of the Bulge to Cho-Sin Reservoir to the Cu Chi tunnels to the Balkans to Kabul, Afghanistan, to Falluja, Iraq.

And if the media doesn't know it, every other American does. This is a very difficult fight, but the ordinary American knows what your loved ones have done and respects them.

Your families, your loved one, your children have more respect than Sean Penn and Barbra Streisand and the Dixie Chicks all put together times a million. And the media like to criticize because they know -- in their hearts -- that they will never have the guts that the man and woman in uniform have. I think media envy of your loved ones' courage has a lot do with media mockery of the war.

To heck with them. Your husbands are the real stars. Your wives and kids are the real stars. They burn brightly forever as long as there are free men and women and the longing for human freedom burns bright in the human heart.

John F. Kennedy said that here on earth, God's work is our work. That doesn't mean Wall Street's work. It doesn't mean the Washington Post's work. It doesn't mean Hollywood's work. It means the work you guys do and the work of your husbands and wives and kids. Living and dying for your fellow man. That is God's work in the deepest sense, and God bless you for what you do, and God keep you until you are with your loved ones again.

 

[Annie]

http://www.realclearpolitics.com/articles/2006/05/remembering_a_special_group_dr.html

May 29, 2006
Remembering a Special Group: Draftees
By Dennis Byrne

This Memorial Day, I want to remember a special group of men who died for our country: draftees.

Time is running out, as the last men drafted in 1973 begin to fade from life and memory. And because several American generations have grown into manhood without knowing conscription, as the draft was otherwise called. They don't have a clue in these times of heightened self-interest, self-awareness, self-absorption and self-everything what is like to be told to march to your death.

This may come as a shock to some who believe that women, and men, have an absolute right to "control their bodies." The men who were drafted can testify that there is no such thing.

Settled into a job? Forget it. You're off to boot camp. Planning to get married? Say goodbye to your wife for months, even years. Planning to go to college? Hit the deck and give me 20 push-ups. Like to sleep in? Get your ass out of the rack and onto the grinder.

You, soldier. Take the point. You're the first one the enemy will spot, the first one hit and probably the first one dead. Thought you were going to be a rear echelon cook? Get in the chopper; you're going to front where it's your butt that'll be fried.

We hear a lot about volunteers who die bravely in combat. And they deserve the highest of honors because they chose to put themselves in mortal danger. We are repeatedly reminded that every single one of our troops in Iraq volunteered, even if it wasn't for what they got. They're special, but close behind are the dead who had no choices. How do you drive home to generations of Americans that millions faced a time in their lives when they were told what to do every waking moment? And where to sleep.

About 3.5 million men were drafted for the World War I, or about three-quarters of the Army. In World War II, 66 percent of the 16 million servicemen were draftees. In the Korean War, 1.8 million were draftees, compared with 1.3 million volunteers. In the Vietnam War, draftees finally became a minority of those who served, about one-third.

This will surprise some: About 70 percent of those killed in Vietnam were volunteers. But draftees still accounted for 17,725 combat deaths in Vietnam. That's seven times more than all American combat deaths recorded in the Iraq War.

Here you'll find no judgment about the merits of conscription. I've lived through it, and beat the draft board by enlisting in the Navy during the Vietnam War. I saw no combat, but chaffed at being bossed around, sometimes senselessly, for more than three years. I'm prouder now of my military service than I was when I was in it; and see more advantages to society and myself now then when I served. I see the benefits of national service, but with two children of my own who could be called, I'm not for grabbing them away from their families and subjecting them to mortal danger.

I despise the ploys of Rep. Charles Rangel (D-N.Y.), who raised the specter of re-instituting the draft, as if it were some game of political one-upmanship. I also despise his deceptions about how a draft is the most democratic way to fight a way, when proportional numbers of white and blacks, rich and poor, blue collar and white collar, served in all wars, including Vietnam. Unlike Rangel, I do not paint people who serve our country as victims.

So, go to Arlington National Cemetery; the U.S. cemetery in Normandy, France; the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, or any other military cemetery or memorial, and you won't find "draftee" on any tombstone or marker. The military does not make these kinds of distinctions because of the equal value of all lives.

But we need to remind ourselves that some people did not have the kinds of choices that we have today. That some people didn't "want to go," and died. We need to remind ourselves that this is something that happened, something that's real. And something that was honorable.
Dennis Byrne is a Chicago writer and newspaper columnist. Email [email protected] or post a comment at http://dennisbyrne.blogspot.com.

 

[Annie]

Thank you to all of you that have served!

http://op-for.com/2006/05/happy_memorial_day.html

"We will always remember. We will always be proud. We will always be prepared, so we may always be free."

-President Ronald Reagan, Omaha Beach, June 6 1984

President Reagan's tribute to the US soldiers who fought and died on the shores of Normandy was a speech so powerful that it echos still today. Read the whole thing below the fold, and remember why this tree of liberty we call America has flourished.

We stand today at a place of battle, one that 40 years ago saw and felt the worst of war. Men bled and died here for a few feet of - or inches of sand, as bullets and shellfire cut through their ranks. About them, General Omar Bradley later said, "Every man who set foot on Omaha Beach that day was a hero."

Some who survived the battle of June 6, 1944, are here today. Others who hoped to return never did.

"Someday, Lis, I'll go back," said Private First Class Peter Robert Zannata, of the 37th Engineer Combat Battalion, and first assault wave to hit Omaha Beach. "I'll go back, and I'll see it all again. I'll see the beach, the barricades, and the graves."

Those words of Private Zanatta come to us from his daughter, Lisa Zanatta Henn, in a heart-rending story about the event her father spoke of so often. "In his words, the Normandy invasion would change his life forever," she said. She tells some of his stories of World War II but says of her father, "the story to end all stories was D-Day."

"He made me feel the fear of being on the boat waiting to land. I can smell the ocean and feel the sea sickness. I can see the looks on his fellow soldiers' faces-the fear, the anguish, the uncertainty of what lay ahead. And when they landed, I can feel the strength and courage of the men who took those first steps through the tide to what must have surely looked like instant death."

Private Zannata's daughter wrote to me, "I don't know how or why I can feel this emptiness, this fear, or this determination, but I do. Maybe it's the bond I had with my father. All I know is that it brings tears to my eyes to think about my father as a 20-year old boy having to face that beach."

The anniversary of D-Day was always special to her family. And like all the families of those who went to war, she describes how she came to realize her own father's survival was a miracle: "So many men died. I know that my father watched many of his friends be killed. I know that he must have died inside a little each time. But his explanation to me was, `You did what you had to do, and you kept on going."

When men like Private Zannata and all our Allied forces stormed the beaches of Normandy 40 years ago they came not as conquerors, but as liberators. When these troops swept across the French countryside and into the forests of Belgium and Luxembourg they came not to take, but to return what had been wrongfully seized. When our forces marched into Germany they came not to prey on a brave and defeated people, but to nurture the seeds of democracy among those who yearned to bee free again.

We salute them today. But, Mr. President [Francois Mitterand of France], we also salute those who, like yourself, were already engaging the enemy inside your beloved country-the French Resistance. Your valiant struggle for France did so much to cripple the enemy and spur the advance of the armies of liberation. The French Forces of the Interior will forever personify courage and national spirit. They will be a timeless inspiration to all who are free and to all who would be free.

Today, in their memory, and for all who fought here, we celebrate the triumph of democracy. We reaffirm the unity of democratic people who fought a war and then joined with the vanquished in a firm resolve to keep the peace.

From a terrible war we learned that unity made us invincible; now, in peace, that same unity makes us secure. We sought to bring all freedom-loving nations together in a community dedicated to the defense and preservation of our sacred values. Our alliance, forged in the crucible of war, tempered and shaped by the realities of the post-war world, has succeeded. In Europe, the threat has been contained, the peace has been kept.

Today, the living here assembled-officials, veterans, citizens-are a tribute to what was achieved here 40 years ago. This land is secure. We are free. These things are worth fighting and dying for.

Lisa Zannata Henn began her story by quoting her father, who promised that he would return to Normandy. She ended with a promise to her father, who died 8 years ago of cancer: "I'm going there, Dad, and I'll see the beaches and the barricades and the monuments. I'll see the graves, and I'll put flowers there just like you wanted to do. I'll never forget what you went through, Dad, nor will I let any one else forget. And, Dad, I'll always be proud."

Through the words of his loving daughter, who is here with us today, a D-Day veteran has shown us the meaning of this day far better than any President can. It is enough to say about Private Zannata and all the men of honor and courage who fought beside him four decades ago: We will always remember. We will always be proud. We will always be prepared, so we may always be free.

Thank you.

May 28, 2006 11:56 PM

 

[Annie]

http://www.dustinmhawkins.com/wordpress/

The following is a Memorial Day Speech given by Senator Bob Dole on May 27, 2002 at the National Vietnam Veterans Memorial.
______________________________________________________

Thanks very much, General McCaffrey, for those kind words of introduction. It’s true that I made the first donation to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund. Twenty years later, I’m looking for someone-anyone-to make the last contribution to the World War II Memorial Fund. Jan Scruggs will sympathize, I’m sure. Thank you, Jan, to you and everyone who insisted on creating this tribute, in this place, to these heroes. In the years since 1982 this has become a sacred place of reflection, prayer, and justifiable pride. Just as the polished granite face of this memorial reflects the sacrifice of over 50,000 young Americans, so history has come to reflect the courage and patriotism of all our Vietnam vets. I am honored to be in your company.

A year and a half ago I joined thousands of slightly older soldiers who assembled on the Mall to break ground for another war memorial. Actually, that’s not quite right. We don’t build memorials to war-we build memorials to those who fight wars, to the millions who wear their country’s uniform and to the even greater numbers on the homefront who support them with their labor and their love.

We build memorials to offer instruction as well as inspiration. The lessons they teach are as relevant at Khe San and Khandahar as at Bataan, Gettysburg, or Valley Forge. Beginning with the most important lesson of war: trust your comrades as if your life depends on it. Because it usually does. That’s not all you learn on the battlefield. You learn that the blood spilled in conflict is all the same color, whether it comes from the sons of immigrants or the grandsons of slaves.

In a dangerous world, these are lessons that each generation must learn for itself. In the early years of the 20th century, my father fibbed about his age in the hope that he might go “Over There.” In the wake of Pearl Harbor I joined the Army, and actually got there. It was the children of the so-called Greatest Generation who went to Vietnam. There you proved yourselves every bit as great in your fidelity to freedom; even greater, in a sense. For those who fought in Vietnam risked every bit as much as the men of D-Day and Guadalcanal-and you did it without the political or popular support that we enjoyed.

And now it is your children who are called upon to defend civilization itself. In recent years some have wondered how the allegedly indulgent members of Generation X would stack up alongside the heroes of Midway and the Mekong River Valley. Now we know. We know because of Johnny Spann, the brave CIA operative who died in a Taliban prison uprising. We know because of the heroes of Operation Anaconda, not to mention countless other young men and women who are carrying the battle to Al-Qaeda.

In case anyone else may have forgotten, we haven’t forgotten: America is at war. Our enemies underestimated us on September 11. Perhaps they underestimate us still. Perhaps they mistake a few election year headlines for a lack of will. But then, those who want nothing more than to destroy democracy can hardly be expected to understand democracy. In a few days, it will be exactly fifty years since I stood in a rainsoaked crowd in a small Kansas town to welcome home my commanding general-who turned out to be my political hero.

In the words of Dwight D. Eisenhower, “I hate war as only a solider who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality and stupidity.” On the one hand, war represents the ultimate failure of mankind. Or at least of the politicians and diplomats entrusted with keeping the peace. Yet it also summons the greatest qualities of which human beings are capable: courage beyond measure, loyalty beyond words, sacrifice and ingenuity and endurance beyond imagining.

That is what we reverently recognize when we build a war memorial-that and all the individual lives that have made hallowed ground out of this, democracy’s front yard. Elsewhere on the Mall you will find monuments to great American presidents, leaders who defined and defended our country in times of crisis. They are illustrious figures in the American story. But no more so than the 58,229 men and women whose names are inscribed on the honor roll behind me.

In the end, it is their sacrifice, their service and their blood that sanctifies the Mall. They are forever remembered here, in the company of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Roosevelt. May this be a source of consolation and pride to the families who love them, the comrades who mourn them, and the vast numbers who draw inspiration from their example. May God watch over this proud company. And may God bless the United States of America.

 

[Annie]

http://www.babalublog.com/archives/003401.html

I am humbled and ever greatful for those who gave their all so that a 4 year old Cuban child would be able to grow to be a free American man.

IT IS THE SOLDIER

It is the Soldier, not the minister
Who has given us freedom of religion.

It is the Soldier, not the reporter
Who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the Soldier, not the poet
Who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the Soldier, not the campus organizer
Who has given us freedom to protest.

It is the Soldier, not the lawyer
Who has given us the right to a fair trial.

It is the Soldier, not the politician
Who has given us the right to vote.

It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protester to burn the flag.

Posted by Val Prieto at May 29, 2006 06:50 AM

 

[Annie]

http://www.blackfive.net/main/2006/05/memorial_day_se.html

Memorial Day - Sergeant Rafael Peralta
Posted By Blackfive
Peralta
SGT Rafael Peralta, USMC 4/7/1979 - 11/15/2004 "Our Loving Hero"
Photo taken by Smash (click on image for larger version).

The words to "Taps" are:
Day Is Done,
Gone the Sun,
From the Earth,
From the Hill,
From the Sky,
All Is Well,
Safely Rest,
God Is Nigh​

When Taps is played at dusk, it has a completely different meaning than when Taps is played during the day. No soldier really wants to hear it played during daylight. For when the bugle plays Taps in the daylight...that means a soldier has fallen...There is a belief among some that Taps is the clarion call to open the gates of heaven for the fallen warrior and letting them know to "Safely Rest"...

Marine Sergeant Rafael Peralta earned his rest the hard way. His name should be discussed more often than the celebrities of the day...

Sergeant Peralta was from Company A, 1st Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment - his job was that of leading the scout section. In November of 2004, Peralta was 25 years old and not an American citizen. He joined the Marines on the very day that he received his green card. He later earned his citizenship as a Marine.

On November 15, 2004, the Marines were busy clearing houses in the Battle for Fallujah. Peralta, as scout team leader, was responsible for locating the enemy and directly ground forces to destroy them. He was not supposed join in the assaults inside the homes.

However, Rafael Peralta was not the kind of guy to stand around watching things happen. He wanted to make things happen. He routinely requested to join the assault teams entering the insurgent filled houses.

During the fateful assault on the 15th, after clearing three houses, Peralta lead the charge into the fourth house, finding two rooms empty on the ground floor. Upon opening a third door, Peralta was hit multiple times with AK-47 fire - severely wounded, he dropped to the floor and moved away in order to give the Marines behind him an opportunity to fire on the insurgents.

As the battle continued, the insurgents lobbed a grenade at the Marines. Two Marines were trapped in the room with Peralta. When they saw the grenade, they tried to get out of the blast area but were trapped.

Peralta, bleeding out on the floor, reached for the grenade and pulled it to his midsection, cradling the grenade before it cooked off.

The grenaded exploded, killing Peralta and critically wounding another Marine, the others all survived because Peralta absorbed the majority of the lethal blast.

Google news on Peralta and you'll find only a few items. You'll find more from around the time of the Battle of Fallujah but not much esle. Rafael Peralta doesn't even have a Wikipedia entry.

But my kids will know Rafael Peralta - I'll make sure of it.

Ben Stein has a great column today:

They Did God's Work
By Ben Stein
Published 5/26/2006 11:59:59 PM


Remarks delivered on Saturday evening in Arlington, Virginia, at the Memorial Day weekend seminar and grief camp of TAPS -- the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors.

<...>
Wall Street does not have it. Hollywood does not have it. They're just in it for the fame and the money.

Your loved ones were in it for unselfishness, for kindness, for love of one's fellow man. There is no higher meaning on this earth.

The media try to rob your husbands' and wives' and kids' lives of meaning saying this war is not about anything.

They're wrong and they say what they say because they don't see the truth. They print a story on the front page about Marines killing civilians in a town in Iraq and if they did, it was wrong. But the big media never report a MARINE throwing himself on a bomb to protect an Iraqi child, or a Marine giving his life to rid a town of murderers or a Marine or an Army man or woman or a Navy Seal or a Coast Guardsman offering up his life so that Iraqi human beings can have the same freedoms and rights we take for granted here in America.

The media are like grave robbers, robbing you of the certain knowledge that your spouses gave their lives for something deeply worthwhile: human dignity.

Your loved ones' lives and deaths had as much meaning at the lives and deaths of every American who died for freedom from Valley Forge to the Battle of the Bulge to Cho-Sin Reservoir to the Cu Chi tunnels to the Balkans to Kabul, Afghanistan, to Falluja, Iraq.

And if the media doesn't know it, every other American does. This is a very difficult fight, but the ordinary American knows what your loved ones have done and respects them...​

Damn right, Ben.

Godspeed Rafael Peralta and safely rest.

May God Bless the families that lost loved ones on this Memorial Day. They need our prayers and thoughts right now.

[thanks to Smash for the photo and the opportunity to tell Sergeant Peralta's story again]

 

[Annie]

There are links. I stand in awe of these young Americans, of all races, both sexes, and different levels of 'citizenship'. They are the next Greatest Generation!

http://blog.simmins.org/index.php/2006/05/where-have-all-the-heroes-gone

May 25, 2006
Where Have All the Heroes Gone?
Filed under: Military, War on Terror, Iraq, Heroes, WOT Heroes, Afghanistan — Chuck Simmins

Leigh Anne Hester joined the Army National Guard in April 2001. By 2005 she was managing a shoe store in Nashville, and had been deployed with her unit to Iraq. As a member of the Kentucky Guard’s 617th Military Police, she wouldn’t normally see combat.

Leigh Ann Hester
That would all change on March 20, 2005. In a matter of thirty minutes, Leigh Ann Hester would join the pantheon of Army heroes that includes Alvin York, Audie Murphy, David Hackworth and many others. Others all men.

Trailing a coalition convoy southeast of Baghdad, her unit responded to an attack on that convoy. The ten Guardsmen found themselves in a fight to the death with dozens of attackers in a well-prepared ambush. The security team for the convoy was down, and it was up to the men and women from Kentucky to take action.

When the dust and smoke had cleared, 27 enemy guerillas were dead and seven captured. Three members of the Guard unit, Raven 42, were wounded. And Leigh Ann Hester would become the first woman to win a Silver Star in combat since World War Two. The first woman to win a Silver Star for combat.

The unit responded as their training dictated. First they flanked the enemy with their vehicles and heavier weapons. Then, they took the fight to the enemy. The unit’s commander, Staff Sgt. Timothy Nein, and Sgt. Leigh Ann Hester worked their way down a small canal the enemy was using as an entrenchment, shooting and tossing grenades. At least six of the enemies were killed in this part of the action alone.

By all accounts, Leigh Ann Hester is just a normal American girl. Quoted in the Courier-Journal on November 12, 2005, she said:

“When it was all said and done with, I had to sit down for a minute,” Hester said. “I was shaking, shaking really bad. I thought, ‘What just happened here?’ ” “Hopefully I won’t have to do it again. You can train all you want to, but until you’re placed in that situation, you don’t know how you’ll react to it.”
​

Leigh Ann Hester reacted as she had been trained. She demonstrated the courage and self-sacrifice of a hero. The members of Raven 42 received medals for their actions that day in March, and Sgt. Lester received the Silver Star. She is an American hero.

In warfare there are soldiers and then there are warriors. Brian Chontosh is a warrior. Marine Capt. Brian R. Chontosh is also a hero.

Brian ChontoshCaptain Chontosh received the Navy Cross while serving with the 3rd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division. The Navy Cross is the Marine Corps’s second highest award for heroism, exceeded only by the Medal of Honor.

On March 25, 2003, Chontosh’s platoon was moving north on Iraq Highway 1 when it ran into a fierce ambush by an entrenched enemy. Realizing that he had to clear the kill zone, and blocked by other units, he directed his unit to advance against the enemy.

Once in the trench, Chontosh exited his vehicle and began to clear the enemy from the emplacement. When he ran out of ammo, he twice picked up enemy weapons to continue the assault. Handed an RPG launcher by a fellow Marine, he used it to good effect.

When the fight was over, Chontosh had cleared over 200 meters of trench, killing more than twenty of the enemy.

You may have heard of Captain Chontosh. Fox News had an embedded reporter with his unit for much of its deployment. If the Marines were in combat and were victorious, Captain Chontosh was probably there. Fox clearly showed that he felt his place was at the front, and in the fight. A warrior and a hero.

Paul Smith was tough. As sergeants go, he was one of those the troops didn’t like much. In his unit, you drilled. You did things by the book. You kept your weapon clean and your tools handy.

Paul Ray SmithBravo Company of the 11th Engineer Battalion, attached to the 2-7 Infantry, had been assigned to build a POW camp at Baghdad Airport as our units completed the capture of the capital. There was a Republican Guard complex, with walls and a tower that seemed ideal for the conversion.

The Special Republican Guard was still there, however.

Less than twenty men faced hundreds of Saddam’s elite soldiers.

There were wounded. There was confusion. Smith leapt into the fray, doing his best. The wounded were tended to. The enemy was confronted.

Smith climbed into the gun mount of his tracked vehicle and told an enlisted man to keep the ammo coming. Using the .50 caliber machine gun, Smith began his defense. If his unit could not stand, the headquarters of the task force, the entire rear of the 2/7 was open to be slaughtered.

In the ninety minute fight, Smith emptied over four cases of ammo. Standing in the gun mount, he kept firing, pausing only for reloading.

Near the end of the fight, as the enemy was in retreat, the gun fell silent. When the smoke cleared, Paul Smith was found slumped in the gun mount, killed by a shot to the head. Sgt. Smith was the only American killed that day. In front of his position were the enemy dead, 30-50 enemy soldiers that would not threaten American lives again.

Sgt. Paul Smith, Bravo Company of the 11th Engineer Battalion was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor on April 4, 2005. The citation reads, in part:

Fearing the enemy would overrun their defenses, Sergeant First Class Smith moved under withering enemy fire to man a .50 caliber machine gun mounted on a damaged armored personnel carrier. In total disregard for his own life, he maintained his exposed position in order to engage the attacking enemy force. During this action, he was mortally wounded. His courageous actions helped defeat the enemy attack, and resulted in as many as 50 enemy soldiers killed, while allowing the safe withdrawal of numerous wounded soldiers. Sergeant First Class Smith’s extraordinary heroism and uncommon valor are in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself, the Third Infantry Division “Rock of the Marne,” and the United States Army.

Leigh Ann Hester, Brian Chontosh and Paul Smith. These are the names of three of America’s heroes from the War on Terror. There are hundreds more. The military issues press releases about them. Sometimes their hometown paper picks up the story. But the odds are that you will never have heard of any of them.

There are 108 entries in my blogging category WOT Heroes. While some of the posts update previous stories, most are unique. Have you heard that there are 100 plus heroes in our military? Have you heard of any?

Mark Mitchell was one of the first into Afghanistan. He used a borrowed turban to scale a wall into a prison where two American CIA officers were being held, freed one and recovered the other’s body.

Teresa Broadwell was too short to fire the weapon on her vehicle. But she did, and saved her commanding officer who was down in the street.

Serena Maren Di Virgilio fought to keep a wounded soldier alive as her unit fought through an ambush.

Gary Villalobos almost single-handedly fought off an enemy ambush and recovered the body of Lt. Col. Terrence Crowe.

Dr. Rich Jadick ran a medical aid station in Fallujah under constant attack. He went to where the wounded were.

When I research a blog post about the WoT heroes, I start with the military news. I then search for any mention in the media that may be posted to the Internet. Sometimes, all there is to memorialize a hero is a short paragraph in a military press release. The blood, sweat and tears shed by our soldiers have somehow vanished between the battlefield and the news.

If Congressman Murtha has gotten on your last nerve,
Diana Irey is running against him. I sent money. You should, too.

 

[Annie]

Nearly made me

http://granddaddylonglegs.blogspot.com/2006/05/memorial-day.html

Fifteen years ago, the late Isaac Asimov wrote a stirring essay about the Star-Spangled Banner.

(yes, that Isaac Asimov)

Because many Americans seem to think of Memorial Day merely as a work or school holiday, I thought I would reprint it with hopes of reminding everyone that the USA exists today because of those who gave their lives to establish and defend the radical experiment of self-government in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

We should also remind ourselves that America will exist tomorrow because of our brave countrymen who freely risk their lives today to defeat the enemies of our way of life.

I must admit that I've always been stirred by our national anthem. I've long known the history behind the event, and have always revered a poet's ability to simply and accurately describe emotional events that leave the rest of us speechless. Still, I never tried to explain why I feel so reverent when the anthem begins to play, and everyone in earshot removes their hats, covers their hearts, and sings along.

After reading Mr. Asimov's essay, I realized that someone else had already explained it for me:

(Throughout the essay, I have linked to pictures and references that further explain the events depicted in the anthem)

I have a weakness -- I am crazy, absolutely nuts, about our national anthem.

The words are difficult and the tune is almost impossible, but frequently when I'm taking a shower I sing it with as much power and emotion as I can. It shakes me up every time.

I was once asked to speak at a luncheon. Taking my life in my hands, I announced I was going to sing our national anthem -- all four stanzas.

This was greeted with loud groans. One man closed the door to the kitchen, where the noise of dishes and cutlery was loud and distracting. "Thanks, Herb," I said.

"That's all right," he said. "It was at the request of the kitchen staff."

I explained the background of the anthem and then sang all four stanzas.

Let me tell you, those people had never heard it before -- or had never really listened. I got a standing ovation. But it was not me; it was the anthem.

More recently, while conducting a seminar, I told my students the story of the anthem and sang all four stanzas. Again there was a wild ovation and prolonged applause. And again, it was the anthem and not me.

So now let me tell you how it came to be written.

In 1812, the United States went to war with Great Britain, primarily over freedom of the seas. We were in the right. For two years, we held off the British, even though we were still a rather weak country. Great Britain was in a life and death struggle with Napoleon. In fact, just as the United States declared war, Napoleon marched off to invade Russia. If he won, as everyone expected, he would control Europe, and Great Britain would be isolated. It was no time for her to be involved in an American war.

At first, our seamen proved better than the British. After we won a battle on Lake Erie in 1813, the American commander, Oliver Hazard Perry, sent the message "We have met the enemy and they are ours." However, the weight of the British navy beat down our ships eventually. New England, hard-hit by a tightening blockade, threatened secession.

Meanwhile, Napoleon was beaten in Russia and in 1814 was forced to abdicate. Great Britain now turned its attention to the United States, launching a three-pronged attack. The northern prong was to come down Lake Champlain toward New York and seize parts of New England. The southern prong was to go up the Mississippi, take New Orleans and paralyze the west. The central prong was to head for the mid-Atlantic states and then attack Baltimore, the greatest port south of New York. If Baltimore was taken, the nation, which still hugged the Atlantic coast, could be split in two. The fate of the United States, then, rested to a large extent on the success or failure of the central prong.

The British reached the American coast, and on August 24, 1814, took Washington, DC. Then they moved up the Chesapeake Bay toward Baltimore. On September 12, they arrived and found 1000 men in Fort McHenry, whose guns controlled the harbor. If the British wished to take Baltimore, they would have to take the fort.

On one of the British ships was an aged physician, William Beanes, who had been arrested in Maryland and brought along as a prisoner. Francis Scott Key, a lawyer and friend of the physician, had come to the ship to negotiate his release. The British captain was willing, but the two Americans would have to wait. It was now the night of September 13, and the bombardment of Fort McHenry was about to start.

As twilight deepened, Key and Beanes saw the American flag flying over Fort McHenry. Through the night, they heard bombs bursting and saw the red glare of rockets. They knew the fort was resisting and the American flag was still flying. But toward morning the bombardment ceased, and a dread silence fell. Either Fort McHenry had surrendered and the British flag flew above it, or the bombardment had failed and the American flag still flew.

As dawn began to brighten the eastern sky, Key and Beanes stared out at the fort, trying to see which flag flew over it. He and the physician must have asked each other over and over, "can you see the flag?"

After it was all finished, Key wrote a four stanza poem telling the events of the night. Called "The Defence of Fort M'Henry," it was published in newspapers and swept the nation. Someone noted that the words fit an old English tune called "To Anacreon in Heaven" -- a difficult melody with an uncomfortably large vocal range. For obvious reasons, Key's work became known as "The Star Spangled Banner," and in 1931 Congress declared it the official anthem of the United States.

Now that you know the story, here are the words. Presumably, the old doctor is speaking. This is what he asks Key:

Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.
Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

"Ramparts," in case you don't know, are the protective walls or other elevations that surround a fort. The first stanza asks a question. The second gives an answer:

On the shore, dimly seen thro' the mist of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep.
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream
'Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh! long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

"The towering steep" is again, the ramparts. The bombardment has failed, and the British can do nothing more but sail away, their mission a failure.

In the third stanza, I feel Key allows himself to gloat over the American triumph. In the aftermath of the bombardment, Key probably was in no mood to act otherwise.

During World War II, when the British were our staunchest allies, this third stanza was not sung. However, I know it, so here it is:

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The fourth stanza, a pious hope for the future, should be sung more slowly than the other three and with even deeper feeling.

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation,
Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the Heav'n - rescued land
Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, for our cause is just,
And this be our motto--"In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.​

I hope you will look at the national anthem with new eyes. Listen to it, the next time you have a chance, with new ears.

And don't let them ever take it away.

Here here.

 

[Annie]

everyone of the over 2million are individuals. That's why I like this:


http://finedrywit.blogspot.com/2006/05/tribute.html

Friday, May 26, 2006
Tribute

You will be seeing many Memorial Day tributes, I hope. I’m sure that you will hear of an assembly,
maybe at the school, which you can attend on Monday. Rather than writing inadequate words, I’ll just post one of my favorite Statler Brothers songs, written by Jimmy Fortune.

MORE THAN A NAME ON A WALL

I saw her from a distance
As she walked up to the wall
in her hand she held some flowers
as her tears began to fall
and she took out pen and paper
as to trace her memories
and she looked up to heaven
and the words she said were these...

She said Lord my boy was special,
and he meant so much to me
and Oh I'd love to see him
just one more time you see
All I have are the memories
and the moments to recall

So Lord could you tell him,
He's more than a name on a wall..

She said he really missed the family
and being home on Christmas day
and he died for God and Country
in a place so far away

I remember just a little boy
playing war since he was three
But Lord this time I know,
He's not coming home to me

And she said Lord my boy was special,
and he meant so much to me
and Oh I'd love to see him
But I know it just can't be
So I thank you for my memories
and the moments to recall

But Lord could you tell him,
He's more than a name on a wall..

Lord could you tell him,
He's more than a name on a wall..​

 

[Annie]

http://www.squiggler.com/2006/05/in_memory_of_ou.html

In Memory of our Honored Dead ... Memorial Day tributes
(Updated & bumped throughout the weekend)

(We will be bumping this post throughout the weekend to keep it at the top. Bookmark Us and come back again to read all the new entries.)

Don't forget to fly your flag.

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 falling 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​

Arlington This is a weekend of barbeques and Summer kick offs. It is also the weekend we stop and honor those who have served us proudly and given their all. I am starting a link list of sites who have tributes to our brave men and women. Please feel free to add to the list and visit all of them. The picture is a view of Arlington National Cemetery, Section 34 looking South.

Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day (Armistice Day) were big holidays in my hometown. Uniformed soldiers and sailors, from 18 to 98, marching, lots of flags and bunting, great Souza marching band music, and even some tanks. We would all line up on the side of the street and stand at attention and salute our hometown heroes, many of whom were the fathershttp://www.squiggler.com/2006/05/in_memory_of_ou.html and older brothers and grandfathers of our schoolmates who had served in WWII and WWI. It was very patriotic, very moving, and very impressive to a small child’s eyes.

 

[Annie]

http://smokeonthewater.typepad.com/smokeonthewater/2006/05/for_love_of_cou.html

For Love of Country, '06

Originally published for Memorial Day in 2004, this remains one of my favorite, most heartfelt works.

And every word of it rings true, even today.

I will leave this post up through the Memorial Day weekend. And, I have something to follow for the traditional Memorial Day, which comes this Tuesday, May 30th.

For Love of Country

And of our fellow man.

In the face of this electoral season's acrimony, it behooves us all as Americans to every now and then declare a truce, step back from the brink and to take stock of this awesome Nation of ours.

Of all of ours.

Be you Raving Liberal or Vast Right-Wing Conspirator, this time is not about you. Or about me.

It is about Them.

memorial-day-flags-in-2004-010

It is for The Fallen.

memorial-day-flags-in-2004-007

Each year the soldiers of the Third United States Infantry Regiment ("The Old Guard") take part in the ceremony called "Flags In." Just before Memorial Day, each grave in Arlington National Cemetery is decorated with a small American flag.

The flags remain in place until the conclusion of the Memorial Day Weekend when they are all removed. It is the only time during the year when American flags are permitted at all gravesites in the Cemetery. The "Flags In" detail took place this year on Thursday, 27 May 2004.

Personally, I believe deeply that we lose something vital to our survival as a Nation when we forget the blood of patriots.

Words, symbols, heated rhetoric and clever argument all pale when measured against the brilliance of the white of marble, the emerald carpet of living grass borne over they who rest beneath, forevermore.

And the fields and fields of flags upon each, bearing quiet witness to the precious, eternal value of that sacrafice.

Dignity, honor, respect and a day of rememberence is all that they ask now of us.

Especially, rememberence.

So, this weekend, set aside if only for a day, thoughts of (D) or (R). Rail not against your fellow American, nor wish harm to him, his party or his creed.

Not on this day.

The men and women in those graves are no longer Democrats or Republicans. They are still and eternally though Americans, and are forevermore worthy of this day given but to them.

Honor the Day. Honor Them.

From their dark and silent graves, they give more honor to our Nation than any one politican, party or officeholder dares ever imagine.

Dignified beyond words, with nobility above the highest offices of government, these silent warriors speak loudly of what it is to be American.

They did not die for the Republicans. Nor for the Democrats, Greens or Libertarians.

Whether in combat, or fifty years later surrounded by only the memories of comrades long since passed, the men and women resting forever under those flags once marched proudly under that banner. They have earned nothing less than the unqualified respect of a grateful Nation, and her grateful people.

The last full measure of devotion is an awesome, terrible thing. Yet, magnificent; and it is upon the altar of their sacrafice that we enjoy the freedom of the greatest Nation in the history of the world.

Stand and salute, and remember them.

For our own sakes, and especially for theirs.

REMEMBER THEM!

May 26, 2006 at 01:55 PM