On The Third Hand

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.
Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg — or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul’s ally forged in the refinery of adversity.
Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.
You can’t tell a vet just by looking.
What is a vet?
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, dumber than five wooden planks, 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.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another — or didn’t come back AT ALL.
He is the Quantico 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 the 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 and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being — a person who offered some of his life’s most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.
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.
— Father Denis Edward O’Brien, USMC

I really can’t say it any better than he did. Thank you to all who served and do serve. We owe you more than we can ever repay.

Rice says all hurricane aid offers from other countries will be accepted

It’s nice to know they’ve offered - whether or not anything comes of it.

Update: Chuck Simmins has more.

We’ve got your back.

Yeah, I might be a bit presumptuous in speaking for the Aussies but I doubt they’ll mind.

Thanks America

“Thanks,” this Australian says, in glowing prose… “and while you are at it, would you terribly mind doing just one more thing?” (That’s where the ‘Heh’ comes in… we’ve heard that before.)

If I had my way, we would do that one little thing. (And that’s where the ‘Indeed’ comes in.) And Australia would probably have our backs there too, which is why I’m smiling.

Faster, please.

April 25th is Anzac Day on the other side of the big pond.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
— Laurence Binyon, For the Fallen

Thanks are inadequate, mates. For that and other things. But thanks anyway.

Update: OzGuru seems to have the same taste in poetry that I do. And he offers a link to an older post of his with a great explanation of what Anzac day is.

Oh, and quote of the day goes to Debbye of Being American in T.O. for the following:

As an American, I feel honoured to mark this day and to express my gratitude for the enduring fraternity between two of Mother England’s more rambunctious kids.

Heh. Indeed.™ (Recommended reading, too. She’s got lots of good links there. )

Australia Commits More Troops to Iraq

Kate reprinted a poem called “A Soldier’s Christmas”. I’m not entirely sure who wrote it; it gets attributed to a number of different people. It’s a great poem, that’s probably why it has become a pass-around. Recommended reading.

However… I like the following poem, with the same title, better. This was written by Michael Marks. Teaser below; read the whole poem at this site.

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 eye 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 a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

Read the rest. If it doesn’t at least make your eyes water a bit, I’d recommend an immediate heart transplant.

Merry Christmas to all, and a happy Boxing Day to those a bit ahead of my time zone. And to all those stationed all around the world, watching over us and others, thank you.

Polish special forces back home

Polish special forces have ended their mission in Iraq where they took part in joint operations alongside US troops, the Polish military said today.

“All the soldiers have returned to Poland having completed their mission,” Polish army chiefs of staff spokesman colonel Zdzislaw Gnatowski said.

“This withdrawal, which was planned in advance, was carried out with the agreement of the allies,” he said.

The special troops had taken part in hunting down terrorist suspects as well as former members of Saddam Hussein’s regime.

Some 56 members of the GROM elite unit were deployed in Iraq in 2003 and took part in operations to take control of oil platforms near the southern city of Basra.

The article forgets to mention that it’s only the special forces that went home. Plenty of Polish troops still in Iraq. Dziekuje!

Tony Soprano and Paulie Walnuts go to war

A week before Thanksgiving, a group of United States Army soldiers in Mosul, Iraq, stormed and retook three police stations that had fallen into the hands of insurgents. As the soldiers guarded one bullet-pocked cop shop, a couple of shady characters from New York bebopped into the station. One guy with slicked-back black hair with silver wings shook his fist in one startled young soldier’s face and said, “We got your back, pal!”

“Holy s—, it’s Tony Soprano and Paulie Walnuts!” shouted the young soldier. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We thought you guys could use a hand,” said Tony Sirico, who plays Paulie Walnuts on “The Sopranos.”

Bravo!

I don’t think it can be said any better than this man did. I posted it last year, and I’m going to do it again.

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.
Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg — or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul’s ally forged in the refinery of adversity.
Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.
You can’t tell a vet just by looking.
What is a vet?
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, dumber than five wooden planks, 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.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another — or didn’t come back AT ALL.
He is the Quantico 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 the 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 and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being — a person who offered some of his life’s most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.
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.
— Father Denis Edward O’Brien, USMC

Thank you, to all veterans, past and present, for your service to this country. We owe you more than we can ever repay.

Other posts:

• Dean’s World quotes the President and links to…
• Armed Liberal, who explains what Veterans mean to him.
• gnotalex, at Dodgeblogium, reprints one of my favorite poems.

If you have a post on Veteran’s day, feel free to trackback.

Iraqi Orphan Begins New Life in America

An Iraqi orphan credited with helping American troops capture insurgents in Baghdad started a new life Tuesday at Girls and Boys Town, the storied home for troubled youngsters.

Wearing a Boys Town windbreaker and holding a plastic American flag on a stick, 16-year-old “Johnny” — the nickname U.S. soldiers gave him — said he was happy to be in the United States.

“Everything’s OK,” he said. “Real cool.”

Soldiers in Baghdad encountered the boy living on the streets and discovered that he knew a lot about the people behind insurgent attacks in the city, said Lt. Col. Brian McKiernan, commander of the 1st Armored Division’s 4-27 Field Artillery Unit

…

After learning that his unit was going to be transferred to Germany, McKiernan contacted Girls and Boys Town about helping the boy. McKiernan feared Johnny could be targeted by insurgents for helping the Americans.

I suspect that Fox News, and Boy’s Town, is about to get quite a few letters from people offering to take him in. He sounds like a good kid and I hope he has a good future here in the US.

On October 12, 2002, in Bali, Islamist terrorists murdered 202 people and injured many more, some severely.

Don’t forget. It wasn’t just here on Sept 11th. Their attacks have been all around the world. This is a war, not a ‘police action’. The Australians understand that. Do we?