- Joined
- Jan 16, 2000
- Messages
- 37
I just want to say thanks, thanks to all you veterans who gave me and my family freedom, you will never be forgotten, NEVER.
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Everyone please read, a blessing to all the fallen heroes...
- Thread starter frank aka rage
- Start date
I just want to say thanks, thanks to all you veterans who gave me and my family freedom, you will never be forgotten, NEVER.
published by: hdcowboy@cvn.net - a mailing list for motorcycle riders (but not only):
"
I watched the flag pass by one day.
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young soldier saluted it, and then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform. He was so young, so proud.
With hair cut square and eyes alert, a standout in any crowd.
I thought how many men like him had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil? How many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down? How many ships at sea?
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No--Freedom isn't free!
I heard the sound of taps one night, When everything was still.
I listened to the bugler play And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times that taps had meant "Amen"
When a flag had draped a coffin of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children, of all the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons, and husbands with interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard at the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves in Arlington,
No---Freedom isn't free.
"
words to live by.
[This message has been edited by Blilious (edited 05-30-2000).]
"
I watched the flag pass by one day.
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young soldier saluted it, and then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform. He was so young, so proud.
With hair cut square and eyes alert, a standout in any crowd.
I thought how many men like him had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil? How many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down? How many ships at sea?
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No--Freedom isn't free!
I heard the sound of taps one night, When everything was still.
I listened to the bugler play And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times that taps had meant "Amen"
When a flag had draped a coffin of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children, of all the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons, and husbands with interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard at the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves in Arlington,
No---Freedom isn't free.
"
words to live by.
[This message has been edited by Blilious (edited 05-30-2000).]
- Joined
- Nov 8, 1999
- Messages
- 673
My thanks go out to all soldiers past present and future for battle's fought and war's endured and to all POW'S who are missing but not forgotten.
God Bless
Kevin
God Bless
Kevin
I know it's not Christmas, but I felt that it's in the same vein as this thread, so I thought I'd post this. (I don't know who actually penned the lines, but it came from a mailing list hosted by Mike Atkinson, a worker in a Christian youth ministry.)
A SOLDIER'S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
'Twas the night before Christmas, and he lived all alone
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just whom in this home did live.
I looked all about, and a strange sight did I see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came to my mind.
For this house was different, dark and dreary,
It was the house of a soldier, I now could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I had read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families I saw on this night,
Owed their lives to this soldier, who was willing to fight.
Soon 'round the world the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
My life is my God, my Country, my Corps."
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
And I couldn't control it, I started to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still
And we both shivered from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night
This Guardian of Honor so willing to fight.
The soldier rolled over and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on, Santa, It's Christmas Day, All is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas, my friend, and to all a Good Night!
A SOLDIER'S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
'Twas the night before Christmas, and he lived all alone
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just whom in this home did live.
I looked all about, and a strange sight did I see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came to my mind.
For this house was different, dark and dreary,
It was the house of a soldier, I now could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I had read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families I saw on this night,
Owed their lives to this soldier, who was willing to fight.
Soon 'round the world the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
My life is my God, my Country, my Corps."
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
And I couldn't control it, I started to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still
And we both shivered from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night
This Guardian of Honor so willing to fight.
The soldier rolled over and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on, Santa, It's Christmas Day, All is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas, my friend, and to all a Good Night!