A Day to Remember

I have seen three Tombs of the Unknowns; the British one at Westminster Abbey, the French one at the Arch de Triomphe, and the U.S. one at Arlington.  This is not mere patriotism, but I honestly do find ours to be the most moving, the most filled with quietly majestic solemnity.  Awareness that the guard of this tomb gives up leave time for the honor and priviledge of serving in that capacity adds to my fondness for it.

My wife and I were recently talking about the 1993 movie, Gettysburg.  She had just seen it for the first time and was talking about how she had been unaware just how many were killed in that one battle.  I asked her if she'd ever been to the site and she said no.  I tried to describe to her the feeling one gets from the rows and rows and columns and columns of graves, each and all marked, "unknown", "unknown", "unknown", "unknown", "unknown".  It seems to me like these people lost more than just their lives that day.

Many of us have mentioned this before but, while it's on my mind, I want to thank ExPat (whose contribution to today's topic I eagerly await) for his service and that of so many in his family.  We're all proud of you.

Is cuimhin na feanna fail...

Bit of the Irish for the heroes.

That would be fianna fail...&$%@# typos, and no fada neither.

Good morning, all.

I have nothing to add just yet, but hope that each of you can enjoy this day and savor all that its heroes have given us. 

I'm off to our County Courthouse for Veteran's Day observances. It seems wrong that my local schools and neighbors, in civilian jobs, had yesterday off (Monday Holiday Act) and that there will probably be very few people in attendance today.

Thank you to all of our veterans and those who now serve.

I was introduced to this day as Armistice Day - and had uncles who fought in The Great War - and among the first poems I learned was this:

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow between the crosses row on row that mark our place;

And in the sky, the larks still bravely singing, fly scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead.  Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe: to you from failing hands we throw the torch;

Be yours to hold it high.  If ye break faith with those who die we shall not sleep,

Though poppies grow in Flanders Fields.

 - by Lt Col. John McCrae M.D.  Canadian Army written in 1915

I was 12 when we took our first trip to Washington D.C. to see some family living out there. Being that I LOVE history this trip was something I was greatly looking forward to.What I was not prepared for & knew very little about was actually the changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns.  It was one of the most chilling & Patriotic displays of respect that I have ever seen. Out of the whole trip there were 2 things that I have ALWAYS wanted to get back to experience again, The Changing of the Guard at the Tomb & Monticello.

Fast forward abut 18 years later & I went with my girlfriend & her sons aged 3 & 5 at the time back out there. Their father wasin the first wave of Troops out of WI sent to Iraq. He had been home for about 10 months when we took the trip. the first thing we did ws take the kids to watch the changing of the Guard at the Tomb. I have NEVER seen such young kids keep quiet for that long.  I think it was a combination of knowing that their father was millitary like the Guards & the checking of the gun that interested them the most. For me it was just as chilling as when I first saw it 18 years earlier.  We later saw the Guard that was relieved from duty walking through Arlington the 3 year old yelled out Hi Mister & he looked over smiled & said in the squeakish voice (I ever heard) hi back. The 5 year old wnated to know more about gun & uniform & why they carry it. This young Guardsman took the time to explain everything & the boys said, Thankyou our dad was in Iraq & has a different uniform.  This young man looked at my GF & said Thank you & then turned & walked away.         

Nachista ~ Please Thank Sir Boyscout, his unit & the whole base for us all today...

Expat ~ Thank You

To the rest of our service men on the PE TAHNK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU....

Because of your dedication & lifestyle choices I am able to enjoy the freedoms granted to me while in this country.

DPR ~ When in Moscow we also had the chance to visit their Unknowns Tomb. What a dissapointmnet. The Guards were standing there in wrinkled uniforms, clowning around while smoking cigarettes. There was no respect what so ever towards the bones of those who had fallen & are now unaccounted for out of the population. It really was a sad sight to see.

Greetings:  My Dad was First Lieutenant in the 489th Bomb Group, 8th Air Force in WWII.  He was Pilot of the B24 known as Rebel Gal.  He was the recipient of the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Air Medal with several Clusters.  He was and is my hero.  He was and is a Cowboy.  He left me almost 4 years ago.  He is missed.  I wish he could see my two boys and see himself in them.  The circle of life.  I was able to spend constant time with him in my teenage years.  He took me along to his work in Puerto Rico for three months every summer because he new I liked that part of the world.  That is why I spend as much time as the clock allows with my boys.  I know how much it will mean to them later.

Bless the Veterans.  Thank you from the depths of my soul.  We are here because of what you have done.  ExPat,  thanks mate.

Pam-I know just what you mean. But, I also know YOU, at least a little bit, and I know you'd never be mean. Same with me. If anyone ever thinks I'm being ugly then I've not been clear or I've been misunderstood, cos I'm just not that way. That's one of the wonderful things about this forum, is that everyone is so nice.

Oops-that post was for yesterday. Also, welcome jcgreg!

I am feeling very contrite today.  I thanked ExPat and completely forgot to mention Nachista's Sir Boyscout.  My dear, please know it was pure clumsiness on my part; there was no deliberate snub nor disrespect intended.

And now, I see that there are many more of us whose families have served.  Permit me to add my father, PFC USA Hon Disc, and my uncle, the retired colonel.  Both are gone now, happily in their beds, but are both missed nevertheless.

Best wishes to all.

Veteran's Day is an acknowledgement of a debt that can never adequately be repaid. It's a debt that grows steeper with each passing day. Bless them all for all they have done.

Sometimes when I am driving here in South Carolina, I will see a license plate that says WWII vet. I am always interested to see if the Veteran is still driving. Nosy curiosity, I guess I still expect to see some reminder of my father who was in the OSS. If asked what he did during the war he always answered he gave typing tests. After he passed away we found all sorts of odd bayonettes, his service 45 and minox camera equipment. I wish he had felt free enough to talk about his service, but for his generation a promise to remain quiet about a subject was kept. Thank you to all the brave service men and women, past and present. We are in your debt.

Veteran's Day is a day of celebration in memory of all the divisions of military service; my father was a Navy Veteran from Brooklyn, N.Y., air pilot trained, and chef in the Navy, too.My daughter recieved from JROTC, National Sojourners Award for Americanism, when she was 16. The other daughter is a Red Cross Lifesaving Lifeguard who has saved lives. Lastly today, I attended my hometown Veteran's Day Parade where my son played the saxophone for his high school band. Veteran's supported my majorette and band troop in my hometown; we are a grand community. I watched the Washington D.C. Veterans Day Ceremony on television. It is an emotional day of important memories. I lived in Beaufort, South Carolina for many years and always enjoyed the Veteran's Day Ceremony. United States of America is proud of their servicemen/women.

When we were in Chicago, we met a ton of interesting people. That's usually specifically what I hunt for. And I'm very efficient. You might even call me a profile snob. 

On our way out on the town Friday night, we stopped to talk with three young men in the opulent lobby of our hotel, The Palmer House. They wanted to know what we were filming. We talked to them and tried to guess what they were doing, too, with their jeans, sportcoats and matching laptops. Very handsome men. Students from Harvard, it turns out. One of them was wearing a large class ring. Very nice and very funny (and now all have J. Peterman.com bookmarked on their matching laptops), but this profile snob found it hard to believe there could be an interesting story amongst them. So we moved on.  After I cleaned all the wasabi peas out of their bar mix, of course.

At 2am, my sister and I got separated from the group upon returning to the hotel, after stopping off for a bottle of Nestle Quick, of course. We pressed the button for the 21st floor and turned to see Harvard number 2 passed out on the lobby couch.

Me: Hey Harvard, something got you down? (Serious giggles from the stumbling sisters)

Harvard: (slow side grin, eyes still shut) The Larks!

Sisters: Can we help you to your room?

Harvard: Suuuuure

In the elevator, one of us on each arm trying to keep him standing, the image of two wine-drenched girls and a barely standing man between us was, well, memorable.

Jaime: Nice arms, Harvard. Heavy books?

Me: (Just noticing. Honest) Oh my God. They're like rocks. You know (to sister) if two boys were saying this to a girl in an elevator whilst holding her errect, I think they would call it 'groping.'

Sister: You're right. They would. (Giggles) 

Harvard: What are you girls doing tonight?

Sisters: We're married, Harvard.

Harvard: Too bad, I'd have shown you a hellofa (slurred into one word) good time.

Sisters: (Attempting to surpress giggles so as not to offend the man who could not even get his neck to the standing position) Yes, Harvard. Too bad.  

We couldn't lug him past his floor lobby, so sister left me to stand guard of limp Harvard in lobby chair while she went to find some help.  Just after she walked away, his head rolled backward and exposed an almost two-inch, very fresh scar on his neck. Normally, even I would not have asked, but it shocked me.

Harvard: (touching it with his ringed-hand) Oh. Got it in Iraq. He smashed every bone in this side of my face (moving his hand to his left eye) and then cut my throat. 

And then he just kept describing it. In detail. People always say they want veterans to tell their stories. I've said that, too. But honestly, I had to keep myself from putting both of my hands over his mouth to stop him. He just kept describing it. 

Me: (Not knowing what to say) Your parents are probably so glad to have you home.

Harvard: My mother raised us and she died of breast cancer just before I went over. I take care of my brother. He's over there now.

Jaime came back around the corner then. I looked at the 'gaudy ring' that had made me decide just hours before that this man 'couldn't have a good story' and saw that it was not a Harvard ring.

It was his service ring. It was special forces. Can't remember. Jaime will remember.

I'm such a spoiled little shit sometimes.

Today, I'd like to publicly apologize to Harvard. And to Harvard's brother who's still there. And to anyone else I've made up my mind too quickly about. Which is just about everyone.

Missy-Join the club, honey...

Hugs-Olivia

 The Response

The inspiration for McCrae's  famous poem had been the death of a fellow officer, Lt Alexis Helmer, of the 1st Brigade Canadian Field Artillery on 2 May 1915, during the Second Battle of Ypres, in western Belgium, for whom McCrae had performed the burial service.

McCrae's verses, which he had scribbled in pencil on a page torn from his despatch book, were sent anonymously by a fellow officer to the English magazine, Punch, which published them under the title 'In Flanders Fields' on 8 December 1915.

Three years later, McCrae himself died of pneumonia at Wimereux near Boulogne, France, on 28 January 1918. On his deathbed, McCrae reportedly lay down the challenge:

"Tell them this, if ye break faith with us who die,  we shall not sleep."

Among the many people moved by McCrae's poem was a YMCA canteen worker in New York, Moina Michael (1869-1944).  Two days before the Armistice was signed on 11 November 1918, she wrote a reply to McCrae's poem.

We Shall Keep the Faith"

Oh! You who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet-to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With all who died.

We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valour led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.

And now the Torch and Poppy red
We wear in honour of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders Fields.

Michael also originated the idea of the red poppy as a symbol of remembrance.

This day is special, the 90th anniversary of the end of the Great War. Those who ignore the costly lessons of long ago believe the past is somehow de-coupled from the present.

Not!

I forgot to translate my Irish:

I remember the warriors of destiny.

Olivia,

Now you know you have to come next time. Keep me in line. Love the Irish.

M.I.

Hey Lowcountry Pen,

My father claimed to be in charge of typists, too, but I suspect he was telling the truth. The way he told it, he went out to Fort Jackson ( yes, in Columbia) and tried to enlist. being told he was 5 pounds underweight, he went and bought ten pounds of bananas and ate them all. Then, when he got through some preliminaries, he was asked if he could type. He said "no" and was placed in charge of those who could.  He eventually went to OCS and earned 4 overseas stripes. He was in the Quartermaster Corps and went all over the place.

That is all I know. Before they were called "The Greatest Generation" most of those guys were known as members of The Silent Generation, because they never seemed to talk about it.  I worked for a guy who told me a couple of stories, but mosty about people we both knew.
 

My father's sister married a  pilot and she told me that he had landed a plane one time with a hole in the back big enough to climb in and out of, but he didn't talk about things much, either.

Maybe the remaining ones will loosen their tongues a little now, knowing that so many have gone. If any PE folks know WWII vets, I can think of no better way to spend a few days than poking and prodding them to share some of that lore.  If anybody has stories to share already, let's hear them, please.

wt 

Capt Neptune,

I think your boys are very fortunate for all the time you spend with them, the stories you must tell them about your father, and all the memories you are creating together.

My father was in the 445th Bomb Group, 8th Air Force, a tail gunner on a B-24 named "TENOVUS" and stationed at Tibenham Air Base, near Norwich, England. One of the stories my dad told me was how he had always wanted to be a pilot. He volunteered with that goal in mind. (He even joked about receiving his draft papers after he had already flown several missions in the ETO.) But, life being what it is, things didn't work out the way he hoped.

After he died, I found the following poem in his papers. It was hand-written, by him, on a half-sheet of paper, folded several times, but kept all these years. I don't think the poem is original to him. If you don't mind, I thought I'd share...

Jan. 5, 1943

7:30pm, Tuesday

A.A.F. Flexible Gunnery School

Fort Meyers, Florida

Song of the Gunners

I wished to be a pilot and you along with me,

But if we all were pilots, where would the Air Force be?

It takes guts to be a gunner, to sit out on the tail,

When the Messerschmitts are coming and the slugs begin to wail.

The pilot's just the chauffeur; it's his job to fly the plane,

But it's we who do the fighting, though we may not get the fame.

If we must all be gunners, then let us make this bet:

We'll be the best damned gunners that have left this station yet!

During his 15th mission, over Tutow, Germany, a Messerschmitt (ME-109) hit him in the back with a 13mm machine gun bullet. The freezing conditions inside the aircraft, at high altitude, actually kept him from bleeding to death. He lost a kidney, but survived. He was reassigned to the 491st Bomb Group, to finish a total of 30 missions. In all, he received the Silver Star, Distinguished Flying Cross, Air Medal, and Purple Heart. He, too, was and still is my hero.

MissIve,

It really is alright. Most importantly, I think, is that you listened to him when he wanted to talk. My son still won't discuss his experience in Iraq but, I hope he knows if he ever does want to, I will listen, too.

Today, I inadvertently made an elderly veteran (a very lovely old gentleman) cry. It was after the ceremony at the Courthouse. Of course, there were smiles and handshakes all around and I had thanked him for serving. We traded stories: he had been a pilot in WWII and Korea and I told him about my son and daughter-in-law in the Marines, my husband in the Navy, and my father in WWII. It turns out that this man was a B-24 pilot who had been stationed in England and when he found out that my father was a tail gunner, also on a B-24 stationed in England, he recounted the experience of the death of one of his tail gunners. (I will not go into the details) He cried at the loss as if it had just happened. He still felt such remorse over the fact that he wasn't able to bring one of his crew home safely. Then he said I was fortunate that my father survived; not many tail gunners did. By that time, I was in tears, too. I apologized for causing him to remember something so painful. He replied that it wasn't my fault. It was war and war was a horrible business.  

Our veterans are our heroes, no matter what job they had, or whether it was during war or peacetime. Some of them stand amongst us with scars, we have no concept of, that for them will always linger. I think that the greatest form of respect we can give them is to never, ever forget what they've given and what they endure to this day.

Missy-Wild horses couldn't keep me away. Time and place, babygirl-time and place...

Thanks be to those who guard our freedoms, closely guard them against all perfidy.

Guide our destiny, that we might shape it well for those who follow after

And burnish it to be the light of the world. For a season it were dim'd,

But now perchance rekindled anew. And anew the doughty deeds be limned

Each year upon the memorial wall. So mark we well the ones who fall

In service to the rare ideal. To yet recall that sacrifice, and make the day

The bargain's seal, that those who gave up all for us, known or no, shall never fade

From the house of our memory. They, for us, from low to high, the greatest gift of all were made.

My poor gift...

A few days ago, I told a story about what the actor, Leslie Howard, did for a friend.  Let me mention him again in today's context:

Leslie Howard served in the British military during World War I and was severely shellshocked in 1917.  His doctors recommended that he studied acting as a form of therapy.  As is now well known, he became a star of both stage and screen (though it would be over a decade before he made his first movie).

In spite of his many great performances in films such as The Scarlet Pimpernel and Of Human Bondage, Howard is undoubtedly most famous for one of the few roles for which he was clearly miscast, that of Ashley Wilkes in Gone With the Wind.  While the film was shooting, storm clouds of World War II were gathering over Europe.  Howard did not like doing the film and never went to see it after its release.  Some have said that he felt too close to the character.  Both Howard and Wilkes were very patriotic men who feared they would lose the coming war.

During the war, Howard worked on many morale-boosting entertainments and documentaries as well as travelling on various "entertainer goodwill" tours.  But he was also on active duty as an intelligence officer and that was his mission one fateful night in Lisbon in 1943.  On the way back from Lisbon, his plane was shot down over the Bay of Biscay.  It is believed in some quarters that the Germans knew Howard to be on board and deliberately targeted him.

Here was a man who would never have been famous had he not been so emotionally scarred in one war, became known for playing a man who lost an older war, and ultimately gave his life in yet another war.  Wherever he is, may he know his efforts were not in vain and that the art that nursed him back to health has served as an inspiration to countless others.

Olivia, and all,

Great is the gift of remembrance.

As a little guy ( cub scout ) I use to march in a small rural town parade. I recall the marching was grand stuff, I felt important, we would all congregate at the local church, the volunteer firemen would block traffic and we would march 1/2 mile to the local town memorials. I can't remember the speeches, but I do remember our town's people taking the time to remember our veterans.

I use to think we were remembering the fallen hero's, but a few more years passed and soon I was looking at my name, carved onto a Vietnam memorial.

Now I know, this was all about remembering town people, yes some who gave their lives and some who gave their of themselves in service ...

I'd like to take a moment in in writing remember my father, my hero and some of my "always faithful" brothers ...

It is never too late to ask what we can do for them, they who made so many sacrifices for us. I do hope the new administration takes better care of our soldiers upon their return, those very courageous men and women.

America's oldest living Medal of Honor recipient, living his 100th year is former enlisted Aviation Chief Ordnanceman (ACOM), later wartime commissioned Lieutenant John W. Finn, USN (Ret.). He is also the last surviving Medal of Honor, "The Day of Infamy", Japanese Attack on the Hawaiian Islands, Naval Air Station, Kaneohe Bay, Oahu, Territory of Hawaii, 7 December 1941.

'Navy Centenarian Sailor', 103 year old, former enlisted Aviation Chief Radioman (ACRM, Combat Aircrewman), later wartime commissioned Chief Warrant Officer Julio 'Jay' Ereneta, U. S. Navy (Ret.) is a thirty year career veteran of World War One and World War Two. He first flew aircrewman in August 1922; flew rearseat radioman/gunner in the 1920s/1930s air squadrons of the Navy's first aircraft carriers, USS LANGLEY (CV-1) and USS LEXINGTON (CV-2).

Visit my photo album tribute to these veteran shipmates:

http://news.webshots.com/album/141695570BONFYl

http://news.webshots.com/album/123286873BFAAiq

San Diego, California

Goodnight everyone. Leave a light in the window.

Taps

Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar drawing nigh,
Falls the night.

Day is done, gone the sun
From the hills, from the lake, from the sky
All is well, safely rest;
God is nigh.

Then goodnight, peaceful night;
Till the light of the dawn shineth bright.
God is near, do not fear,
Friend, goodnight.

Just sitting here trying to keep the tears off the keyboard and knew it was time to get registered and participate with you great people.  And thanks to Capt Neptune for inviting me in.

My dad was a member of the 116th Infantry Regiment of the 29th Infantry Division that landed on Omaha beach on D-Day.  He was a staff sergeant in Headquarters Co. and landed in the second wave carrying a flame thrower.  They came in right behind A Co. out of Bedford, VA. (his unit was from nearby Roanoke, VA.)  As you all probably know, Bedford was noted for losing the most men in Normandy on D-Day, at nineteen.

He and my mother had married on May 18th (Mom is an English war-bride) and they did not see each other again until he got leave in November, and then went back to the continent until the end of the war.  Some of my most cherished possessions are his knapsack that he wore from D-Day on (in which I used to carry my books to school from the 1st grade on) and a collection of medals and ribbons from a Luftwaffe colonel whom he captured, as well as a very ornate Nazi flag.  He won a Bronze Star, was awarded the Croix de Guerre twice, and his company was one of the few that I have ever heard of being awarded A Presidential Unit Citation twice.  He was wounded three times, but never submitted for a Purple Heart.

He then served as a field artillery battery commander in Korea.  I have some really great slides that he took there - Heartbreak Ridge, the Punchbowl, etc.

He and mother met in Plymouth (her hometown)in a shelter during an air raid.  Her family was bombed out of two houses during the Blizt, and she can tell some really great war stories herself.  She lives in Beford even now (I took her out to lunch yestereday) but lost dad in 1983.

If you are lucky enough to have any of these folks in your family, ask them all the questions you can, and record the answers.  Your descendants will thank you.

This is my first post ever to a blog, so give me plenty of slack until I learn the protocol.

Welcome, Celt, and all our new contributors.  There have been some great stories here today.

As our dear Missive has learned, there is no such thing as a person without an interesting story.  Some may be better at telling them than others, some may be more willing to share them than others, but we all have them.

Miss Ive ~ The service Ring was Special Forces he's an Army Ranger..... he said what it was for in the first meeting that evening. (I think you & Sis were picking on Jeans man at the time)  I asked if he was a Beret when he first flashed it & he said no close. So the only other Special forces I knew of was the rangers. He just smiled & gave a small nod...

I'm going to remember Armistice Day by remembering my Dad. He passed away 4 years ago and I still miss him terribly. He was a veteran of Korea and served aboard the USS Jason as a machinist mate. About a year before he passed, I got a Navy ship cap made for him for the Jason. I'll wear it all day.

Capt Neptune,

Just googled Rebel Gal.  Image popped right up there on Military.com.  Can you tell if your dad is in the shot?

Greetings Celt, glad to have you aboard, you're sure to enjoy the ride.

http://flickr.com/photos/fauxaddress/2976627898/in/pool-wwii

"Rebel Gal was issued to another crew after HBC's crew left for the states...After the 489th came home in Dec 1944, She went to the 392nd Bomb Group and another crew based in Wendling England, who flew her on several more combat missions".  I believe the photo of which you speak is the latter.  Ironicly, Larry (my guitarist) gave me a magazine (Air Classics) with an article about Rebel Gal the day I returned from our trip.  Air Classics Vol 43 Number 10 11/31/07.

Thanks for your story, it was very moving.

Kindlee:  Thanks, and thanks for your post.

Welcome, welcome, lowcountrypen, Gustina, turnip, TetVet68, CptMatt, and intuit.

Cead mile failte, Celt!

Hope I got everyone. I can't recall this many reinforcements all at once-COOL!

My humble and heartfelt gratitude and thank-you goes out to all of our nations service men and women, and veterans, including my mother and father. It is your hard work, sacrifice, patriotism, and dedication to us, that binds our nation together, and keeps it safe and free. It was always my honor and privilege to serve among you, and I will never forget you.

Celt:  http://flickr.com/photos/fauxaddress/2982444261/in/set-72157608394780148/

http://flickr.com/photos/fauxaddress/2983161686/in/set-72157608394780148/

TIIIIIIIII!!! Where you been, dude? Anyway, wb.

Pretty much been here all along. Just didn't have much to say that wasn't already being said, and much more eloquently than I could, by someone else.

BTW-Thanks for missing me, in your post a few days back. You honor me.

Hey, Tiberius!  Very nice to have you back!  And that's a beautiful new picture and so appropriate for the day.

Welcome, josh-and thanks!

Welcome to all the newbies! Thank you for your contributions.

Joshua,

Welcome home and thank you for sharing your story. I wish you well.

I also wish every veteran could have a great support system. It's shameful the military doesn't seem to have learned much about that from the past.

Actually, if wishes could come true, I wish the military didn't need to exist...

DPR - Thank-you. That picture was taken at Olan Mills a couple years after the Gulf War, if memory serves.

Joshua - I was very saddened by your story. I wish I could say that you were an exception, but I know better. I have seen many heroes, like yourself, treated with equal shabbiness, and lack of care. Not all, but way too many.

I would suggest that you don't give up, but continue to fight the system for proper treatment and recompense. Write to your congressman, talk to the VA, and the VFW, and anyone else that will pay attention, but don't give up. You deserve better. I am so sorry that our country seems to have turned its collective back on you. You shouldn't have to work at getting proper care, but it looks as though you will have to. Thank-you, my friend, for your service to us, and I wish you the greatest of good fortune.

Thank you, Joshua.  Please know that you are not alone.  As your wife has shown you and, I hope, as those of us who have welcomed you here have shown you, you are not alone.  I hope you need never be alone.  Bless.