by NoOneImportant » Thu Nov 28, 2013 2:25 am
John, while it's a bit premature - by a couple of hours - I'd like to thank you for what you do, and wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. I wish good things for you, and hope that you have many good things to give thanks for. I can't thank you enough for what you do. You cover, in a unique manner, events that either through malice, incompetence, or bias just don't get covered, in any meaningful manner, in the biased media.
Loved the Thanksgiving pic. Spent 4 years doing Thanksgivings in the military in the mid to late sixties - 3 over seas. For those who have not been fortunate enough to have served - talk about mixed emotions, serving that is - it is quite strange, a true love/hate experience. For those who serve It's just another day, you getup do the normal morning stuff, jump into your clothes - fatigues, cammies, BDUs, or whatever they are called at the moment. You do today, what you did yesterday, and every other day - for that matter - life just is what it is, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing special If your single as most are, there's no family, nothing just what you do, and you do it all day long every day, with the same guys everyday. Then you hit the evening meal, and everything is different
All of the sudden it's Thanksgiving, I mean, it's really Thanksgiving - and it's startling, yes we all knew that it was Thanksgiving, but we needed to do, and indeed did what we were tasked to do - it was just another day. But when you entered the mess hall and saw, and smelled all the food, the first thing I felt was surprise at the decorations, and special food, and treatment - it was startling; the surprise was that anyone cared. The job was paramount, the job gave us purpose, the job gave us meaning, the job preempted everything for the job was life and death; for regardless of what anyone might tell you every private soldier intuitively knew why we were there - didn't like it much, but we knew. The surprise as we entered the mess hall was found in the fact that anyone cared. Thoughts, even if just for a few moments drifted back to "before", the time before the Army, when there was family, when the world wasn't at risk - or at least there were other soldiers in place who let me pretend that the world wasn't at risk - those who gave of themselves so that I might pretend that what they' did, the sacrifice of their time, sweat, effort - the gift of their life - didn't matter, and it didn't matter because they were there when I needed them, though I didn't even know how much. Each of those men, whether figuratively, or literally holding a rifle in hand, standing toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye, and face to face with evil; each silently declaring to evil, day after day, year after year - "Not while I live." Without those men who came before me none of us are free, for there is great evil in our world, and those men who I have pretended don't matter, have kept that evil away. Each of those men, when queried, will deprecated his gift with: "... I didn't do anything special, I only did my job." But they do matter, they mattered then, and they matter now.
While a young man I wouldn't have been able to put words to these feelings, thus each of those four Thanksgivings was indeed a surprise, a surprise that anyone cared. Later life permitted me to more fully understand what, at that time, I only intuitively knew: without dedicated armed strong men willing to stand in the door and bar evil's way - none of us are free.
Thank you John, and again have a Happy Thanksgiving, and again thanks for the pic.
John, while it's a bit premature - by a couple of hours - I'd like to thank you for what you do, and wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. I wish good things for you, and hope that you have many good things to give thanks for. I can't thank you enough for what you do. You cover, in a unique manner, events that either through malice, incompetence, or bias just don't get covered, in any meaningful manner, in the biased media.
Loved the Thanksgiving pic. Spent 4 years doing Thanksgivings in the military in the mid to late sixties - 3 over seas. For those who have not been fortunate enough to have served - talk about mixed emotions, serving that is - it is quite strange, a true love/hate experience. For those who serve It's just another day, you getup do the normal morning stuff, jump into your clothes - fatigues, cammies, BDUs, or whatever they are called at the moment. You do today, what you did yesterday, and every other day - for that matter - life just is what it is, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing special If your single as most are, there's no family, nothing just what you do, and you do it all day long every day, with the same guys everyday. Then you hit the evening meal, and everything is different
All of the sudden it's Thanksgiving, I mean, it's really Thanksgiving - and it's startling, yes we all knew that it was Thanksgiving, but we needed to do, and indeed did what we were tasked to do - it was just another day. But when you entered the mess hall and saw, and smelled all the food, the first thing I felt was surprise at the decorations, and special food, and treatment - it was startling; the surprise was that anyone cared. The job was paramount, the job gave us purpose, the job gave us meaning, the job preempted everything for the job was life and death; for regardless of what anyone might tell you every private soldier intuitively knew why we were there - didn't like it much, but we knew. The surprise as we entered the mess hall was found in the fact that anyone cared. Thoughts, even if just for a few moments drifted back to "before", the time before the Army, when there was family, when the world wasn't at risk - or at least there were other soldiers in place who let me pretend that the world wasn't at risk - those who gave of themselves so that I might pretend that what they' did, the sacrifice of their time, sweat, effort - the gift of their life - didn't matter, and it didn't matter because they were there when I needed them, though I didn't even know how much. Each of those men, whether figuratively, or literally holding a rifle in hand, standing toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye, and face to face with evil; each silently declaring to evil, day after day, year after year - "Not while I live." Without those men who came before me none of us are free, for there is great evil in our world, and those men who I have pretended don't matter, have kept that evil away. Each of those men, when queried, will deprecated his gift with: "... I didn't do anything special, I only did my job." But they do matter, they mattered then, and they matter now.
While a young man I wouldn't have been able to put words to these feelings, thus each of those four Thanksgivings was indeed a surprise, a surprise that anyone cared. Later life permitted me to more fully understand what, at that time, I only intuitively knew: without dedicated armed strong men willing to stand in the door and bar evil's way - none of us are free.
Thank you John, and again have a Happy Thanksgiving, and again thanks for the pic.