Veterans Day / Remembrance Day
11-11-2003, 10:52 AM
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Veterans Day / Remembrance Day
The Average Military Man
The average age of the military man is 19 years.
He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country.
He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father'*; but he has never collected unemployment either.
He'* a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm Howitzers. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime.
He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square -away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not "just" a boy.
He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
The average age of the military man is 19 years.
He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country.
He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father'*; but he has never collected unemployment either.
He'* a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm Howitzers. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime.
He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square -away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not "just" a boy.
He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
11-11-2003, 11:31 AM
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Originally Posted by 1992 trofeo
I dont think this is turky day.... so its not "happy"
11-11-2003, 11:45 AM
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Originally Posted by 1992 trofeo
I dont think this is turky day.... so its not "happy"
11-11-2003, 11:51 AM
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As a vet that really blew me away. God bless America and her fighting men and women!!!
"Rock of the Marne." My boys of the 3rd ID are still there in Iraq. I served two of my four years with them in Kitzingen, Germany..... Before the wall came down!!! My last duty station was in Colorado Springs, Colorado with the 4th ID who are there in Iraq now as well. This why I feel so strongly for them there.
"Rock of the Marne." My boys of the 3rd ID are still there in Iraq. I served two of my four years with them in Kitzingen, Germany..... Before the wall came down!!! My last duty station was in Colorado Springs, Colorado with the 4th ID who are there in Iraq now as well. This why I feel so strongly for them there.
11-11-2003, 11:54 AM
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Originally Posted by TrueWildMan
Originally Posted by 1992 trofeo
I dont think this is turky day.... so its not "happy"
11-11-2003, 11:55 AM
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Originally Posted by 95neongirl
Originally Posted by TrueWildMan
Originally Posted by 1992 trofeo
I dont think this is turky day.... so its not "happy"
If anything, Veterans day was established to be a happy day. To congratulate and thank our veterans. And to party our freedom...
My .02
11-11-2003, 12:31 PM
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Just so you know, Neongirl, I found that searching for something else.
And I sincerely doubt saying "Happy Veterans Day" would offend anyone. Veterans day is for those of us still here, as well as to remeber and thank those that aren't.
Peaking of which, I do want to put in a Thank You to friend of mine,
PFC Hans Christian Anderson Davies, 411th MP Compay, who died serving his country December 1990 during Operation Desrt Shield
And I sincerely doubt saying "Happy Veterans Day" would offend anyone. Veterans day is for those of us still here, as well as to remeber and thank those that aren't.
Peaking of which, I do want to put in a Thank You to friend of mine,
PFC Hans Christian Anderson Davies, 411th MP Compay, who died serving his country December 1990 during Operation Desrt Shield