Veterans' Day

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 us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

-- "In Flanders Fields," written on May 3, 1915, by Lt. Col. John Alexander McCrae MD, Canadian Army Medical Corps.



Born on November 30, 1872 in Guelph, Ontario, died on January 28, 1918 in Wimereux, France. RIP.

* * *

I also pay tribute today to my father, a veteran of the Korean War. He served with the 2nd Battalion, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, 27th Commonwealth Brigade.

On April 24-25, 1951, at the Battle of Kapyong, approximately 800 men of 2 PPCLI fought off a Chinese division estimated at 10 times its size. Parts of the battalion, including my father's company, were completely surrounded but managed to survive due to airdrops which kept the soldiers supplied with food and ammunition. The company commander also called down friendly artillery fire on his own position, helping to drive out the attackers.

Ten Canadians were killed and 23 wounded. Chinese casualties are believed to be in the neighbourhood of 1,000 killed or wounded. For "extraordinary heroism and outstanding performance of combat duties in action against the armed enemy," 2 PPCLI was awarded the Distinguished Unit Citation by Lt. Gen. Van Fleet of the Eighth United States Army. The citation, in part, reads:

"With serene and indefatigable persistence, the gallant soldiers held their defensive positions and took heavy tolls of the enemy. . . (t)he seriousness of the break-through on the central front had been changed from defeat to victory by the gallant stand of these heroic and courageous soldiers."



Thanks Dad.

* * *

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

-- "The Ode of Remembrance," from the poem "For the Fallen," written by British poet Laurence Binyon (1869-1943) and first published on September 21, 1914 in The Times.



Lest we forget.

 

I never served in the military. My fathers was a Marine and fought in Korea.
Before him, our family, on both sides, were still in Ireland amd, sadly, I don't know about any of my families service or lack there of in the old country.

 

There are a lot of people I think about on Veteran's Day. My daughter, who is today 21 (she's not miltary, but...she's my baby.)

Her cousins; one in Bagdad right now; another who just finished his second tour there. Both cousins are dads.

My dad, WWII Navy vet, died in 1998; another Navy vet, my sister (career) died in 2005; and my ex-father-in-law, WWII Navy ace who also served in Korea; he died last month.

My grandpa, who lied about his age to serve Canada during World War I -- and was discharged after mustard gas and gunshots when he told a nurse in a hospital in England he was only 15.

But you know what? The vet I think of every year -- he's not a relative. I never met him. I wore a shiny bracelet with his name until the nickel plate made my skin break out. So I took it off, but I remember Alan D. Piittmann, an E3 whose aircraft went down in Laos 11-16-66.

Please add him to the list of those you remember and honor.

 

Speaking of underaged soldiers, I once heard a great story about a kid from my hometown who enlisted during World War Two. He was 16 or 17 and was the oldest of a family whose father was already overseas.

So the kid also got shipped across the pond and was training in England. One night he walked into a pub and, completely by chance, came face to face with his father!

Of course, dad blew the whistle on his kid, who got his ass shipped right back to Canada. He did it the right way when he turned 18 and father and son eventually made it back home together. Both are gone now - RIP.

 

My wife's grandfather and uncle both served in WWII and fortunately came home alive.

Unfortunately, they've both passed away in the last five years--both in November, in fact, my wife's grandpa died two years ago Thursday--but in a weird way, their passing gave me an opportunity to pay tribute to them in a way I never could while they were alive. They rarely if ever talked about their war experiences to flesh and blood, never mind an interloper like me.

When they died, both had military funerals and there were soldiers there presenting my wife's grandma (she was the sister of my wife's uncle, who was unmarried with no other survivors) the flag. I've never felt as awed or humbled as I did when the soldier gave the flag to grandma "on behalf of a grateful nation." I mean, think about that. I grew up in peace time and my biggest worry at 18 was getting laid. They were barely out of high school and fighting for our freedom.

Recalling those funerals gives me goosebumps to this day, as does the sight of my wife's uncle's flag sitting atop our bureau.

I can't top the simple poignancy of Buckweaver's salutation to his grandpa, so let me just say I thank everyone who served our country.

 

Thanks, Beej.

Military funerals, for lack of a better word, choke me the fuck up. The guns, the flag, the taps -- ohhhhh, taps -- it all makes me bawl like a baby.

In May, my SE's son was killed in a helicopter crash in Afghanistan. (Some of you may remember the thread dedicated to him here.) I never got to meet the kid, but he was my age (24), and that tore me up. There but for the grace of god ...

RIP Bryan. This Vets' Day is for you.

 

I forgot to mention that my wife's uncle's funeral was a particularly moving event because there were so few of us there. He never married, spent most of his adult life taking care of his infirm parents, worked overnight shifts and was ill for most of his final 15 or 20 years. He had a pretty sad life and no friends beyond his family.

He spent his entire life putting himself before others. So when he died, and his family members were the only people witnessing this solemn ceremony, it was alternately heart-breaking, because nobody should die alone, and appropriate. Nobody else would understand what he sacrificed for the family. So what better way to thank him than surrounded by silence and his family in a remote part of a cemetary?

I'm not sure I put that the way I wanted to, but the whole experience was awe-inspiring.

 

What is more numbing, Taps on a bugle or Amazing Grace on bagpipes? If you have both at your funeral, chances are you were pretty important.

Much thanks and gratitude are owed to all those who served or have served whether they had to go or just stand ready, just in case.

 

They are each emotionally overwhelming, especially at a funeral. But Amazing Grace gets me every time -- bagpipes, choir, solo, etc.

 

My father was in the Army and fought in Vietnam. I called him this morning and thanked him, the only day all year we even mention his service.

 

He'd know you if he saw you. He'd know that paper anywhere.