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OLD MEN IN Funny Hats

 I came across this essay and thought it was a beautiful Memorial Day tribute. I hope you enjoy it.

I wrote this a while after I got home from Iraq, and I post it every year. Happy Memorial Day.

 

You’ve seen them. The old guys in the parades. They march- or shuffle- along, parts of uniforms hanging, bits of ribbons and old medals tarnished black with the years pinned on shirts and jackets unevenly, smiling and waving as they pass. They wear odd, envelope-shaped hats, often covered with mystifying pins, which say things like, “American Legion,” and “Veterans of Foreign Wars.” They’re not even close to being in step, even though one old guy, ramrod straight, is calling a raspy cadence. As they pass, a few stand, one or two older folks even remove hats. Their old friends who can no longer march,

 line the streets, and even those in wheelchairs will try to stand, or at least sit a bit straighter as the flag passes. Sometimes they salute.

These men. Old. Overweight. Too thin. Thick glasses. Halting gaits of old men. The guys in front wobbling a bit under the weight of the flags they carry. These are THEM. A few folks will clap a little as they pass, or call out the name of a friend, father or grandfather in the ranks.

These men are the reason we are here. They fought on D-Day, they were at Iwo Jima. They froze in Korea, sweated in the jungles of Viet Nam. They liberated Kuwait, slugged across the Balkans, ran the Mogadishu Mile and drove endless miles around and around Baghdad.

They saw the horror, these were the men who liberated the concentration camps, and destroyed the Iraqi torture cells. They saw friends closer than brothers bleed and die, and they know what it is to kill.... Oh yes. They killed. These fat old men in the strange hats. Some were wounded. Some haven’t slept through the night in more than fifty years. A sound, a smell can bring it all back instantly, even now. As they pass, some folks may clap a little. Rarely will people stand; more rare is the spectator who will remove his hat. Why? Because these are our Dads, our Grandpas, our friends. Nowadays, even our Moms, Grandmas & Aunts. We know them. They put on our band-aids and made our lunches. Taught us to throw and catch. Taught us to hunt, gave us our first beers, our families and friends. Stand? Salute? Take off my hat?

Yes. Above all, yes. Stand. Salute. Take off your hat!

  • Because this old man who taught you about cars once lay in a shallow hole on a beach while the world came apart around him. This kid who used to deliver your newspaper still can’t walk on a sandy beach without his hands shaking. This woman calling your name at the doctor’s office has plugged a bullet hole with a tampon. The guy who makes your morning coffee once called in a “danger close” airstrike on his own position. And mostly, because on Memorial Day, these people are not marching for themselves. Each of them marches in the place and memory of friends and brothers who will never march anywhere again. Stand for them… take off your hat... not for the people passing by, but for the endless stream of memories of the dead and gone that each of those people really represents… these are the lucky ones. They came home. They lived. They got to know you. They pass by you for beloved comrades who didn’t. On Monday, as the Old Guard passes by, rise. Take off your hat. Applaud. Cheer. If you get a chance, look them in the eye and say a simple “Thank you,” or, "Welcome home." Some of these people have never had that experience. And as you go off to your barbecues and parties and days at the lake, remember what some people have done and where they have been to enable us to enjoy the many blessings of our nation and freedom. And, if you think of it, pause for a moment, and thank God... for these old men in funny hats.

 

Republished with permission of the author, Kurt Vonderheyde

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Grew up and lived in the Great Lakes area most of my young adult life and had the good fortune to get a call for shore duty as an instructor at GLNTC from 1963 to 1966. Below zero was a MILD term....it starts getting Chilly at around -40 deg's, then there is always  the Lake Effect Snow. Always was a Big challenge as to where to put all that snow.

Finlay wise up and mover the family to Southern Calif  in 1979. LOVE IT HERE IN PARADISE.

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Surface Warfare Mosaic

I took Emmet Molloy's suggestion and got a good book to catch up on my reading...a Xmas gift from my oldest daughter...THE NAVY, NAVAL HISTORICAL FOUNDATION, BEAUX ARTS EDITION.I came across this passage entitled " Surface Warfare Mosaic"...hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Surface Warfare Mosaic:  Puffy white clouds of a mid-Pacific sunrise catching the first rays of their creamy peaks…night Tomahawks launches…fantail cookouts…batteries released…haggling with a rug dealer in Abu Dhabi…planeguard…the vibrancy of Hong Kong harbor…”Flight Quarters, Flight Quarters”…a humid softball game in GITMO… “Close up ROMEO”…hurricane evasion in thirty-foot seas… turning & burning…breakaway songs… pride…high speed turns…on station…snipes…CORPEN NINER…Reveille…Main Brace…”Birds Away”…”Now go to your stations all the Special Sea and Anchor Detail”…PMS…hitting your pit…up Doppler…SITREPS…night orders…mid-watches…skunks…quarterdeck…goat locker…eight o’clock reports…zone inspections…lookouts…shift colors…”You are approaching a United States naval warship”…POD…the smell of fresh coffee brewing and bacon frying on a morning watch…deck crawlers…”Stand by for shot lines fore and aft”…”Moored. Shift Colors”…wheel-books…the con…BRAVO ZULU.

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USS Doris Miller (CVN 81)

USS Doris Miller (CVN 81) Naming Ceremony

Acting Secretary of the Navy Thomas B. Modly will name a future Gerald R. Ford-class aircraft carrier in honor of World War II hero Ship’s Cook Third Class Doris “Dorie" Miller during a ceremony in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, Jan. 20.  In selecting this name, we honor the contributions of all our enlisted ranks, past and present, men and women, of every race, religion and background,” said Modly

Nice to see the Navy finally breaking tradition in carrier naming…long over due.

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USS Doris Miller (CVN 81)

USS Doris Miller (CVN 81) Naming Ceremony

Acting Secretary of the Navy Thomas B. Modly will name a future Gerald R. Ford-class aircraft carrier in honor of World War II hero Ship’s Cook Third Class Doris “Dorie" Miller during a ceremony in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, Jan. 20.  In selecting this name, we honor the contributions of all our enlisted ranks, past and present, men and women, of every race, religion and background,” said Modly

Nice to see the Navy finally breaking tradition in carrier naming…long over due.

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USS Doris Miller (CVN 81)

USS Doris Miller (CVN 81) Naming Ceremony

Acting Secretary of the Navy Thomas B. Modly will name a future Gerald R. Ford-class aircraft carrier in honor of World War II hero Ship’s Cook Third Class Doris “Dorie" Miller during a ceremony in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, Jan. 20.  In selecting this name, we honor the contributions of all our enlisted ranks, past and present, men and women, of every race, religion and background,” said Modly

Nice to see the Navy finally breaking tradition in carrier naming…long over due.

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2020 Anniversaries

As David De Rooy commented on January 1st…”We’re heading into the “Roaring Twenties”. I loved that phrase. Here are some things to look forward to in 2020:

2020 will see anniversaries of many significant events in history. Here are ten to note:

75th Anniversary of End of World War II, 1945.

25th Anniversary of the Creation of the World Trade Organization, January 1, 1995. 

10th Anniversary of the Haiti Earthquake, January 12, 2010.

250th Anniversary of the Boston Massacre, March 5, 1770. 

50th Anniversary of the U.S. Invasion of Cambodia, April 30, 1970.50

2,500th Anniversary of the Battle of Thermopylae, August or September 480 BC. 

25th Anniversary of the Beijing Declaration, September 15, 1995. 

50th Anniversary of Black September, September 1970. 

25th Anniversary of the Assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, November 4, 1995. 

10th Anniversary of the Self-Immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi, December 17, 2010.

Note: More information on these events & more can be found @ the following link:

https://www.cfr.org/blog/ten-anniversaries-note-2020

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Old Navy Christmas

Old Navy Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, compartments were still,
The sailors were sleeping, as most sailors will.
The ditty bags hung by the lockers with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there

The men were all peacefully dreaming in bed
As visions of liberty danced in each head.
The Chief in his skivvies, hopped into his rack,
Having just came from town and a quick midnight snack.

When out on the deck there arose such a roar,
I ran to the porthole to find out the score.
I stuck out my head and started to shout,
"Just what in the world is this noise all about?"

A moon made for boondocking showed with a glow,
It was downright cold out, 'bout seven below.
What I saw out there looked like those Mardi Gras floats,
'Twas a Captain's gig drawn by four white Navy goats.

In the boat was a man who seemed quiet and moody,
I knew in an instant St. Nick had the duty.
As quickly as Monday his billy goats came,
He whistled and shouted and called them by name.

"Now Perry, now Farragut, Dewey and Jones,
What's the matter John Paul, got lead in your bones?
A little to Starb'rd, now hold it up short,
No fluffing off now, or you'll go on report!"

He was wearing dress "Reds" that fit like a charm,
His hash marks they covered the length of his arm.
The gifts to be issued were all in his pack,
The gedunk was ready to leave on each rack.

His eyes they were watering, his nose caked with ice,
He wiped it with canvass, then sneezed once or twice.
He opened his mouth and started to yawn,
It looked like the Sun coming up with the dawn.

The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth,
And took a small nip from a bottle beneath
He wasn't so big, but he must have been strong,
I figured he'd been in SEALs early and long.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Tar,
Who said "Evenin' Matey, here have a cigar."
He filled every seabag with presents galore,
And left us all leave papers, right by the door.

With "Anchors Aweigh" he climbed back into place,
A broad smile was creeping all over his face.
One look at his watch and he started to frown,
"This mid watch is certainly getting me down."

Then out to the breakwater and into the night,
The gig started fading, the landscape was bright.
"Merry Christmas" he said, as he drove on his way,
Now I'll finish my rounds and sack in for the day."

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"Guarding Christmas"

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 sailor, I puzzled, some twenty years old
Yet he stood there, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Hurry and brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
away from the cold and snow blown in a drift,
to the window that danced with a warm fire's light
then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,

I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night.
Our freedom comes first 'til the dawn's early light.
It’s my duty to stand at the front of the lines,
that separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,
then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."

"My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile".

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red white and blue... an American flag.
"I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home,

I can stand at my watch through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a small rack with little to eat,
I can carry the weight of killing another
or lay down my life with my sisters and brothers

who stand at the front against any and all,
to insure for all time that this flag will not fall."
"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."

"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear

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Old Sailors Poem

Old Sailors Poem

OLD SAILORS SIT AND CHEW THE FAT
IN POORLY LITE BARS SITTING IN THE BACK

THE LIVES THEY LIVED AS THOSE DAYS DON'T LAST
AND ALL THE GOOD TIMES REMEMBERED FROM THE PAST
WITH THOUGHTS OF BELL BOTTOM BLUES
AND THOSE LITTLE WHITE HATS
AS THEY SINGLE UP LINES
BOTH FORE AND AFT

THEY RECALL LONG WATCHES LATE AT NIGHT
WHILE THE STARS AND MOON
WHICH SHINED DOWN SO BRIGHT
FAR OUT AT SEA,
IN THAT SUMMER BREEZE
THE THOUGHTS THEY HAD
WHEN THEIR LIVES WERE FREE

THEY KNEW SO WELL
THEIR HEARTS WOULD SWELL
WHEN OLD GLORY FLUTTERED HARD
DURING THAT STORMY GALE
HOW THE SALT SPRAY WOULD STING
WHILE THE LOOKOUT DID STAY,
ON THE STARBORAD BRIDGEWING
BOTH NIGHT AND DAY

THEY TALKED OF THE CHOW
THE NIGHT BAKER WOULD MAKE 
FOR GUYS ON MID WATCH NOT GIVEN A BREAK
AND THE SHRILL OF THE BOS UN'S PIPE,
THROUGHOUT THE LONG DAY
CALLING FOR THE MUSTER AND MEALS
AND THE END OF A DAY

THEY REMEMBER THEIR SHIPMATES
WITH THE STORIES THEY TOLD
OF SAILORS THAT WERE CRAZY OR BOLD,
AND THE FRIENDSHIPS THAT WOULD HOLD,

THEY SPEAK OF THE NIGHTS
ON MANY A FOREIGN SHORE.
IN PIG ALLEY AND THE GUT
PLACES THEY REFUSED TO IGNORE 
OF THE BEER AND WHISKEY
THE WOMAN THEY SEEN
TELLING JOKES AND SEA STORIES
LATE AT NIGHT WHEN AT SEA

THEIR SAILING DAYS ARE GONE
WHILE THEY SIT AND THINK BACK
NEVER AGAIN WILL THEY CROSS,
THAT BROW OR QUARTERDECK 
BUT THEY HAVE NO REGRETS,
BECAUSE IT ISN'T QUITE OVER 
AS SUNLIGHT FADES IN EARLY OCTOBER

AS THEIR NUMBERS GROW LESS
WITH EACH PASSING DAY
AS THE FINAL MUSTER BEGINS,
THERE'S NOTHING MORE TO SAY,
ALL HAVE PAID THEIR DUES,
AND THEY'LL SAIL AGAIN SOON

AS I'VE HEARD THEM SAY
WHILE PACKING THEIR SEABAGS
JUST THE NIGHT BEFORE
THEY GET UNDERWAY
THEY'LL SAY IT WITH A GRIN
THAT THEIR SHIP HAS COME IN
AND THE GOOD LORD NEEDS A CREW
OF A FEW SEASONED WELL HARDENED MEN

[anonymous]

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Why Do We Honor "Veterans"?

When you see Old Glory waving in a breeze,
When you hear the silence amongst the trees,
When you, to sleep, you lay your head ,
Your dreams can be happy, not filled with dread.

When you gaze upon a starlit night
And are not filled with constant fright
Because across the sky a star is streaking
And not a missile or mortar shell is shrieking.

When in your streets car horns are blowing
Instead of fires from bombs are glowing
When the sound of sirens means help is near
Instead of "hide until all is clear!"

When a wreath is placed in Pearl Harbor
For those still entombed in the water.
When veterans cry remembering this
And all the friends, forever, they'll miss.

When no one speaks while at "The Wall"
Where tears come freely to the small and tall.
Know that group of veterans wouldn't quit,
Even though Americans upon them did spit.

When young ones ask about the flags
Placed gracefully over cemetery tags.
You tell them that veterans answered the call,
To keep us safe, one and all.

When a lump in your throat rises as "Taps" is played,
And a loved one, to rest, is laid.
This veteran's sacrifice did ensure,
That America's freedom would endure.

We honor our veterans because for their own reasons, they chose to serve this country.
We honor them because without them, this country wouldn't be what it is today.
It may not be perfect, but there isn't a greater place on Earth to live.

Author:
Ezra W. Sides
MMC(SW), USN(Retired)
11/09/05

 

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A Sailor's Story


Early in the mornin' alarm clocks are ringing

My bags are packed 'cause we're leaving today

Defending our freedom by sea twenty-four seven

The boys in blue rushing to get underway

Deep down below a sub lurks in silence

And a ship's striking fear from her presence above

The carriers armed with their helos and planes

Deliver bombs signed "From the Navy, with love

Hi y'all, greetings from England

I'm doin' fine and I hope you are too

I wish you could be here. We're leavin' tomorrow

I miss you all and I'll be a-comin' home soon

Late after midnight a helmsman is steering

And a lookout stands alert to all ships passing by

A cook's down below making breakfast for mornin'

And the engineers keep us powered all through the night

Radio receives our news and our orders

And a quartermaster navigates by satellite

Radars and sonars, our eyes, they are watchin'

And the weaponeers standing by ready to fight

Hi y'all, greetings from Spain

I'm doin' fine and I hope you are too

I wish you could be here. We're leavin' tomorrow

I miss you all and I'll be a-comin' home soon

Seems I've traveled the world over by way of the oceans

From Australia, Hong Kong to Tokyo Bay

Mediterranean, Northern Atlantic

But I wouldn't trade nothin' for the ol' U.S.A.

Sometimes the sea rages like the scorn of a woman

It tosses and turns you and blows you away

'Til you're too afraid to sleep at night or wake in the mornin'

At times it's a breeze on a warm summer's day

Early in the mornin' a boatswain pipes reveille

We pack and we shower we're arriving today

Defending our freedom by sea twenty-four seven

The boys in blue come home from a long underway

Down on the docks there's a little boy waiting

"How long will it be before dad will arrive?"

"What did he bring me? Where's he mom? Can he see me?"

"I hope we'll have time to go fishin' this time"

Down with the children a faithful wife's waiting

With a will of iron, heart of gold, tears in her eyes

Saying, "You're finally home! How I hate when you leave me!"

"But I love you right now come and just hold me tight!"

Hi y'all, greetings from Italy

I'm doin' fine and I hope you are too

I wish I could stay here. We're leavin' tomorrow

I miss you all and I'll be a-comin' home soon

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ATTENTION ALL" NAVY VETERANS" This coming Wednesday 9-11-2019 is "Patriot Day & National Day of Service & Remembrance". Break out OLD GLORY & fly her proudly @ your home. (as a friendly reminder...DON'T FLY HER IN THE DARK...thank you for your support.)

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MS3 Marbley

Thanks fellows for welcome abroad. I served onbroad the USS New Orleans LPH -11 Aug 1985 -Apr 1988. I am looking for old shipmates that served with me onbroad. I would like catch up and talk about old times.
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To all who Served

The sailor stood and faced his God which must always come to pass He hoped his shoes were shining just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, you sailor, how shall I deal with you? Have you always turned the other cheek? To My Church have you been true?"

The sailor squared his shoulders and said, "No, Lord, I guess I ain't because those of us who stand the watch can't always be a saint.

I had to work most Sundays and at times my talk was tough, And sometimes I've been violent, because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny that wasn't mine to keep... Though I worked a lot of overtime when the bills just got too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear, And sometimes, God forgive me, I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place among the people here, They never wanted me around except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord, it needn't be so grand, I never expected or had too much, but if you don't, I'll understand.

There was a silence all around the throne where the saints had often trod As the sailor waited quietly, for the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, you sailor, you've borne your burdens well, Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets. You’ve done your time in Hell."

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I am the American Sailor

Hear my voice, America! Though I speak through the mist of 200 years, my shout for freedom will echo through liberty's halls for many centuries to come. Hear me speak, for my words are of truth and justice, and the rights of man. For those ideals I have spilled my blood upon the world's troubled waters. Listen well, for my time is eternal - yours is but a moment.

I am the spirit of heroes past and future. I am the American Sailor. I was born upon the icy shores at Plymouth, rocked upon the waves of the Atlantic, and nursed in the wilderness of Virginia. I cut my teeth on New England codfish, and I was clothed in southern cotton. I built muscle at the halyards of New Bedford whalers, and I gained my sea legs high atop mizzen of Yankee clipper ships.

Yes, I am the American Sailor, one of the greatest seamen the world has ever known. The sea is my home and my words are tempered by the sound of paddle wheels on the Mississippi and the song of whales off Greenland's barren shore. My eyes have grown dim from the glare of sunshine on blue water, and my heart is full of star-strewn nights under the Southern Cross.

My hands are raw from winter storms while sailing down round the Horn, and they are blistered from the heat of cannon broadside while defending our nation. I am the American Sailor, and I have seen the sunset of a thousand distant, lonely lands. I am the American Sailor. It was I who stood tall beside John Paul Jones as he shouted, "I have not yet begun to fight!" I fought upon the Lake Erie with Perry, and I rode with Stephen Decatur into Tripoli harbor to burn Philadelphia.

I met Guerroere aboard Constitution, and I was lashed to the mast with Admiral Farragut at Mobile Bay. I have heard the clang of Confederate shot against the sides of Monitor. I have suffered the cold with Peary at the North Pole, and I responded when Dewey said, "You may fire when ready Gridley," at Manila Bay. It was I who transported supplies through submarine infested waters when our soldier's were called "over there." I was there as Admiral Byrd crossed the South Pole. It was I who went down with the Arizona at Pearl Harbor, who supported our troops at Inchon, and patrolled dark deadly waters of the Mekong Delta.

I am the American Sailor and I wear many faces. I am a pilot soaring across God's blue canopy and I am a Seabee atop a dusty bulldozer in the South Pacific. I am a corpsman nursing the wounded in the jungle, and I am a torpedoman in the Nautilus deep beneath the North Pole. I am hard and I am strong.

But it was my eyes that filled with tears when my brother went down with the Thresher, and it was my heart that rejoiced when Commander Shepherd rocketed into orbit above the earth. It was I who lanquished in a Viet Cong prison camp, and it was I who walked upon the moon. It was I who saved the Stark and the Samuel B. Roberts in the mine infested waters of the Persian Gulf. It was I who pulled my brothers from the smoke filled compartments of the Bonefish and wept when my shipmates died on the Iowa and White Plains. When called again, I was there, on the tip of the spear for Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm.

I am the American Sailor. I am woman, I am man, I am white and black, yellow, red and brown. I am Jew, Muslim, Christian and Buddhist. I am Irish, Filipino, African, French, Chinese, and Indian. And my standard is the outstretched hand of Liberty. Today, I serve around the world, on land, in air, on and under the sea. I serve proudly, at peace once again, but with the fervent prayer that I need not be called again.

Tell your children of me. Tell them of my sacrifice, and how my spirit soars above their country. I have spread the mantle of my nation over the ocean and I will guard her forever. I am her heritage and yours.

I AM THE AMERICAN SAILOR!!

Author unknown - Letter found this summer on the steps leading to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

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