Memorial Day

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  • Pappy
    The Full Monte
    • Dec 2002
    • 10453
    • San Marcos, TX, USA.
    • BT3000 (x2)

    Memorial Day

    This has been around the web for many years. I think it is one of the best stories showing what Memorial Day is about as was ever written. I have never tried to check its validity, nor do I think it is necessary. Take it for the touching story that it is.

    This is what Memorial Day is all about!
    To those who have served, THANK YOU!
    To those who have held the home together while their loved one served, THANK YOU!
    To those who mourn a loved one who gave their life for another's freedom, GOD BLESS YOU!
    To those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, from the bottom of our hearts, we say "THANK YOU!
    We Salute You! Well Done Good and Faithful Servants.
    Pray for us that we may continue to fight for the freedoms
    that you and Christ laid down your life for."


    Cemetery Watchman

    My friend Kevin and I are volunteers at a National cemetery in Oklahoma and put in a few days a month in a 'slightly larger' uniform.

    Today had been a long, long day and I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's and have a cold one. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 16:55. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same level--both too high.

    I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace.. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.

    I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurts like **** and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.

    Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to Smokey's in time.

    I broke post attention. My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight: middle-aged man with a small pot gut and half a limp, in marine full-dress uniform, which had lost its razor crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery.

    I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman's squint.

    'Ma'am, may I assist you in any way?'

    She took long enough to answer.

    'Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days.'

    'My pleasure, ma'am.' (Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.)

    She looked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'

    ' Vietnam, ma'am.. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'

    She looked at me closer. 'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I can.'

    I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'

    She smiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie from a long way off.. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time..'

    'Yes, ma 'am. At your service.'

    She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the flower bunches out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn't quite make out.. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC: France 1918.

    She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X.Davidson, USMC, 1943.

    She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944..

    She paused for a second and more tears flowed. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done'

    I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'

    She looked confused.. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost my way.'

    I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'

    'Oh!' she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly..'

    She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out and more tears flowed.

    'OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.'

    Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?'

    She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle,Stanley was my husband,Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all Marines.'

    She stopped! Whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know. She made her way to her car, slowly and painfully.
    I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it over to Kevin, waiting by the car.

    'Get to the 'Out' gate quick.. I have something I've got to do.'

    Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road fast. We beat her. She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.

    'Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped it across the drive to the other post

    When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!'

    I have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud.
    She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice far beyond the realm of most.

    I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.


    Instead of 'The End,' just think of 'Taps.'

    As a final thought on my part, let me share a favorite prayer: 'Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe, whether they serve at home or overseas. Hold them in your loving hands and protect them as they protect us.'

    Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before in our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.

    'In God We Trust.'

    Sorry about your monitor; it made mine blurry too!

    If we ever forget that we're one nation under God, then we will be a nation gone under!
    Don, aka Pappy,

    Wise men talk because they have something to say,
    Fools because they have to say something.
    Plato
  • leehljp
    Just me
    • Dec 2002
    • 8465
    • Tunica, MS
    • BT3000/3100

    #2
    Originally posted by Pappy
    This has been around the web for many years. I think it is one of the best stories showing what Memorial Day is about as was ever written. I have never tried to check its validity, nor do I think it is necessary. Take it for the touching story that it is.

    This is what Memorial Day is all about!
    To those who have served, THANK YOU!
    To those who have held the home together while their loved one served, THANK YOU!
    To those who mourn a loved one who gave their life for another's freedom, GOD BLESS YOU!
    To those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, from the bottom of our hearts, we say "THANK YOU!
    We Salute You! Well Done Good and Faithful Servants.
    Pray for us that we may continue to fight for the freedoms
    that you and Christ laid down your life for."


    Cemetery Watchman
    My dad never served in the military. He was a farmer. Several of the farmers around him were sent off to serve during WWII. Three of his brothers were sent off to serve. Dad was given charge to manage the farms of those who were sent off.

    One memory that I have is of Dad's desk that had pictures under the glass top of men (his personal friends) who died in WWII. Those pictures are still in my mind and the names of several. While he never served, he honored those who did.

    My brother-in-law served in Viet Nam. My best friend was a Navy pilot and was involved in some events that to this day are famous. I was envious. I tried three times to join up. The reason that I was given each time that I was "rejected" - was because I couldn't "see" well enough. Once it was depth perception, once it was that I was almost blind,(20-200 without glasses, not THAT bad) and the other time I can't remember but it had to do with sight. On two of the situations - both of the fellows running the "eye test" said "I am new so give me a minute to figure out what I am doing" and then I was told that my sight was too bad. My eye sight was good enough that I could hunt and play sports with the best. Without getting religious, I will say that there was another road for me. Even now, sometimes I feel like I was left out.

    But still I honor those of you that did serve and those that gave their life for our country and cause. Thank you!
    Last edited by leehljp; 05-28-2012, 08:48 AM.
    Hank Lee

    Experience is what you get when you don't get what you wanted!

    Comment

    • jussi
      Veteran Member
      • Jan 2007
      • 2162

      #3
      This poem by Charles M. Province, a veteran in the US army, always puts a tear in my eye.

      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.
      I reject your reality and substitute my own.

      Comment

      • cabinetman
        Gone but not Forgotten RIP
        • Jun 2006
        • 15216
        • So. Florida
        • Delta

        #4
        This is what Memorial Day is all about.

        Click image for larger version

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        .

        Comment

        • leehljp
          Just me
          • Dec 2002
          • 8465
          • Tunica, MS
          • BT3000/3100

          #5
          Originally posted by jussi
          This poem by Charles M. Province, a veteran in the US army, always puts a tear in my eye.

          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.
          WOW! Great Poem and truth! Now if all those mentioned would do their part to maintain this "right" within our country. How many countries have fallen from within! Some to overthrow oppressors, some for the want to "my rights".

          "Rights" are best when given, not when demanded!

          Hank Lee
          Last edited by leehljp; 05-28-2012, 04:02 PM.
          Hank Lee

          Experience is what you get when you don't get what you wanted!

          Comment

          • Bruce Cohen
            Veteran Member
            • May 2003
            • 2698
            • Nanuet, NY, USA.
            • BT3100

            #6
            My eyes are red again

            Don,
            Your post just set me off again, thought I was all finished feeling crummy, and well you know the rest.
            Semper Fi and thanks to all of you for your service.

            Click image for larger version

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ID:	786088

            No signature out of respect
            Bruce
            "Western civilization didn't make all men equal,
            Samuel Colt did"

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