MEMORIAL DAY 2021
As we all set about getting to where we are going this Memorial Day weekend, with the freedom to celebrate as we wish, let’s take a minute to remember the cost of that freedom. Since 19 April 1775 when the “Colonists” entered into war with Britain, approximately 1,354,664 “Americans” have given their lives for this nation, with an additional 40,031 still uaccounted for, so in reality that number is approximately 1,394,695. That number does not include the number of innocent civilians killed by terrorist attacks, or as collateral damage.
These Americans have come in all colors, races, religions, and sexes, some hadn’t even become US citizens yet, but died for us, so I considered them to be Americans just the same. Some of us know someone who was killed fighting for and defending this freedom. Whether it was a long ago or recent relative, neighbor, coworker, parent, child, etc, we are not immune to the price paid.
Think about it, over 1.3 Million Americans have shed their blood, dying on domestic and foreign battlefields. Battlefields the world over are stained by American blood. As in the past, today we have families that have an empty seat at the table and for them family gatherings will never be the same. For a lot of them Memorial Day is spent gathering around a gravesite sharing stories of their “Hero” while shedding tears. In reality they are not just their heroes, they should be and are our heroes also. For them Memorial Day isn't a once a year event, for them it's a daily event.
So regardless of where or how you spend your “Hard Earned” 3 day weekend, remember the price paid, how many lives lost before they really started. Remember FREEDOM is not FREE, and has been paid for by those who loved us, loved this country, and loved life, the same life they gave for us.
The battle for freedom is never truly over, let their sacrifices not be forgotten, let the price of freedom not be forgotten, let them not be forgotten.
May God bless our nation and those who have protected it to their last breath. Everyone have a great and safe Memorial Day weekend, and remember to take a moment of silence to reflect upon the price paid for freedom and to remember and thank those whom paid for this holiday with their lives, America’s war dead!
Two poems come to mind....
Soldier
I was that which others did not want to be.
I went where others feared to go,
And did what others failed to do.
I asked nothing from those who gave nothing,
And reluctantly accepted the thought
Of eternal loneliness should I fail.
I have seen the face of terror,
Felt the stinging cold of fear,
And enjoyed the sweet taste of a moment’s love.
I have, cried, pained and hoped,
But most of all, I have lived times
Others would say were best forgotten.
At least someday I will be able to say
That I was proud of what I was…
A Soldier.
By George L. Skypeck,
I was that which others did not want to be.
I went where others feared to go,
And did what others failed to do.
I asked nothing from those who gave nothing,
And reluctantly accepted the thought
Of eternal loneliness should I fail.
I have seen the face of terror,
Felt the stinging cold of fear,
And enjoyed the sweet taste of a moment’s love.
I have, cried, pained and hoped,
But most of all, I have lived times
Others would say were best forgotten.
At least someday I will be able to say
That I was proud of what I was…
A Soldier.
By George L. Skypeck,
THE CROSSES GROW ON ANZIO
Oh, gather ’round me, comrades; and
listen while I speak
Of a war, a war, a war where hell is
six feet deep.
Along the shore, the cannons roar. Oh
how can a soldier sleep?
The going’s slow on Anzio. And hell is
six feet deep.
Praise be to God for this captured sod that
rich with blood does seep.
With yours and mine, like butchered
swine’s; and hell is six feet deep.
That death awaits there’s no debate;
no triumph will we reap.
The crosses grow on Anzio, where hell is
six feet deep.
-Audie Murphy, 1948
Oh, gather ’round me, comrades; and
listen while I speak
Of a war, a war, a war where hell is
six feet deep.
Along the shore, the cannons roar. Oh
how can a soldier sleep?
The going’s slow on Anzio. And hell is
six feet deep.
Praise be to God for this captured sod that
rich with blood does seep.
With yours and mine, like butchered
swine’s; and hell is six feet deep.
That death awaits there’s no debate;
no triumph will we reap.
The crosses grow on Anzio, where hell is
six feet deep.
-Audie Murphy, 1948
