I received this in the mail and thought it would fit in really well here. I was never in the Military, you should 've heard how fast the recruiters would hang up when I told them I am Diabetic.
I finally did get to serve my Country, through Amateur Radio as a Navy MARS operator....(Military Affiliated Radio System). Anyway, here's the article that I received.
I finally did get to serve my Country, through Amateur Radio as a Navy MARS operator....(Military Affiliated Radio System). Anyway, here's the article that I received.What Is A Veteran?
Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a
jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence
inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the
leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in
the refinery of adversity. Except in parades, however, the men and women
who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet
just by looking. What is a vet?
He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating
two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run
out of fuel.
He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose
overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic
scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep
sobbing every night for two solid years in DaNang.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't
come back AT ALL.
He is the Quantico drill instructor that has never seen combat - but has
saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang
members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals
with a prosthetic hand.
He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass
him by.
He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose
presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the
memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with
them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and
aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes
all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the
nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being, a person who
offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his
country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to
sacrifice theirs. He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the
darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on
behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known. So remember, each time
you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank
You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more
than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.
Author Unknown
Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a
jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence
inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the
leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in
the refinery of adversity. Except in parades, however, the men and women
who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet
just by looking. What is a vet?
He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating
two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run
out of fuel.
He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose
overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic
scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep
sobbing every night for two solid years in DaNang.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't
come back AT ALL.
He is the Quantico drill instructor that has never seen combat - but has
saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang
members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals
with a prosthetic hand.
He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass
him by.
He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose
presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the
memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with
them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and
aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes
all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the
nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being, a person who
offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his
country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to
sacrifice theirs. He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the
darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on
behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known. So remember, each time
you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank
You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more
than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.
Author Unknown
