SwiftVets.com

[Becky]

America, thirty years ago you abandoned us. You turned your back on
us, forgot our sacrifices and classified us as losers, drug addicts and
social outcasts. Hollywood gladly persisted in portraying us to a younger
generation and to the world as drug-addled sadists, loners and borderline
psychopaths.

You never welcomed us home with open arms or words of comfort for our
wounds. Instead, we were greeted by sneering leftists, Communists and
fifth columnists posing as students, professors and members of the
almighty press, all anxious to document the return of its wayward sons to
a country all too quick and pleased to forget us.

Our own families, force-fed a diet of lies by its trusted television
newsmen, doubted the nature of our sacrifices and quietly, shamefully,
accepted our unadorned return.

Faced with such singular ignominy, we quietly resumed our lives, jobs,
educations and careers. The overwhelming majority of us succeeded in
those interrupted lives and careers, becoming doctors, engineers,
architects, lawyers, businessmen, accountants, and all other professions
imaginable. We established businesses, became wealthy, raised families,
paid taxes, had grandchildren. By any measure, we achieved the
American dream - not because it was handed to us in payment for our
service, sacrifices or victimization - but earned by us in spite of it.

For thirty years and more we quietly persevered in our march to heal the
wound inflicted on our souls, not by the armed enemy we faced on the
battlefield, but by our countrymen in our rear - some, but not very, very
many at all, who had even worn the uniform. Such a deep wound had
been healing slowly and without any help from those who gleefully
inflicted it.

And then, one of the men who wielded the original knife . . . the dagger
sharpened by his ideological masters in Hanoi, Beijing, Moscow and
Havana . .. . re-emerges from our past and begins to once again twist
that knife he so deeply thrust into our backs. He now emerges, wearing
the mantle of respectable member of Congress, who rode his once-
shameful Vietnam service into the halls of political power . . . who now
seeks the highest office in the land, professing to be one of us . . . the
abandoned ones, the forgotten ones, the murderers, rapists and sadists
he so loudly and theatrically damned in front of a world watching,
listening and reading in 1971.

He now proudly proclaims shedding blood for a Nation whose service he
condemned in 1971, whose medals he contemptuously threw on the
Capitol grounds and which he now wears, unstained by the shame of his
rejecting them when his Nation needed solidarity. He now claims heroism
as his badge of honor in an army of savages not seen since the "hordes
of Genghis Khan."

And he does all of this without shame, guilt or remorse in front of us, the
forgotten ones, the abandoned ones . . . and what is most terrifying to us,
the ones who were never ashamed of our service, who have quietly kept
the faith of our fathers, who have faithfully remembered and honored our
dead, who have never "cashed in" on our military service, and who had
slowly and painfully learned to accept our anonymity - is the fact that this
opportunist, this sunshine patriot, this back-stabbing traitor to his
uniformed compatriots . . . this elitist, gold-digger . . . may possibly
become our Commander-in-Chief.

And you . . . America . . . our dearly loved Nation . . . who abandoned us
so many years ago, and to whom we have remained faithful
nonetheless . . . are you going to shame us once again?

Do you remember me America? I was the one which others cared not to
be. I went where others feared to go and did what others failed to do. I
asked nothing from those who gave nothing. I reluctantly, accepted the
thought of eternal loneliness should I fail. I have seen the face of terror,
felt the chill of fear, warmed to the touch of love. I have hoped, pained,
and cried. But foremost, I have lived in times others would say are best
forgotten. At the very least, in these later days, I am able to say with the
greatest pride........that I was indeed! .......an American Soldier!

author unknown
_________________
“In the beginning of a change the patriot is a
scarce man, and brave, and hated and
scorned. When his cause succeeds, the timid
join him, for then it costs nothing to be a
patriot.”
- Mark Twain

[gleanerl]

bulls eye.
_________________
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Is sloppiness in speech caused by ignorance or apathy? I don't know and I don't care.
William Safire (1929 - )

[Guest]

That is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read.

[dusty]

Overwhelming! Going out to eveyone I know. Being printed out to distrubute to those that don't have computers.
Thanks for sharing this one.

Dusty

[LewWaters]

Another excellent read to add to my collection.

Here is yet another one I received in my email yesterday, also author unknown;

I'm not worthy to question John Kerry's war record.

Because I don't have one.

I spent the Vietnam War in elementary school. And the four years I was in
the Army were all behind a desk. My fort was unofficially known as "Uncle
Ben's Rest Home."

So I don't know anything about war.

Though I do know a little bit about men who've been to war. I've been around plenty of those.

Like my step-father.

He got bunged up pretty bad in France. I know that because I saw him in a
swimming suit once.

But he never talked about it.

Not once.

If you asked him about the war he'd tell hilarious stories about basic
training, or where the guys he served with were from, or how fun it was
learning to fly the gliders, or the time they stole the ambulance to go into
town and get drunk in France, or a few of the phrases in German he learned.

But he'd never actually talk about the war.

Unless he was really drunk.

In which case he still wouldn't talk about it.

He'd cry about it. He'd put his head in his arms in the wee hours of the
morning and sob to himself about how the men around him were broken and torn when the gliders crash landed into the French countryside.

But that was only once or twice, and that was never about him.

And the little box of medals at the bottom of his footlocker never came out.

It was kind of the same way at the Legion and the VFW. Every day he'd check in at both places, to sign the book and to have a beer, and I would tag along. All those men had been in the service, and most had been in combat, but I never heard a war story.

Lots of Army stories, and Navy stories, sure.

About guys they knew and leaves they were on and officers they messed with.

But nothing about the war.

It was the same way in the Army.

In my day, it seemed like everybody above staff sergeant or captain had been in Vietnam. I went in 10 years after the war ended but the guys on the second half of their careers had all gone.

You could tell when they wore their dress uniforms.

But that was the only time.

Men didn't talk about what they'd done in the war.

They didn't boast of their accomplishments. They didn't brag about their
medals. But if you chanced to see them in their dress uniforms, with the
rows of service ribbons, you could read their history there, you could see
that those who'd done the most spoke of it the least.

Like one of our drill sergeants in basic training.

Buffing the floor in his office one day we saw the service ribbons pinned to
his Class A uniform on the coat rack. Comparing them to the poster in the
company day room we learned he'd gotten the Silver Star, the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart.

We asked about them and he made us do push-ups for being nosey.

The night before graduation, when he welcomed us as fellow soldiers, we
asked him again, we almost pestered him. Finally he relented and gave us two sentences: "I was in a war. I got hurt."

And that's all he'd say.

Kind of like a man I know, who received the Medal of Honor. One night he
stood in a long line to shake hands with Colin Powell. The man, because of
the nature of the event, wore his medal around his neck.

As he came to Colin Powell the man said, "General, it's an honor to meet
you."

And Colin Powell responded, "No, sir - it's an honor to meet you."

Anyway, I know this man, and he's often asked to tell his story, of how he
earned the Medal of Honor. And he never does. Oh, he answers, and he talks, and he inspires, and he talks about the war.

But he neglects the part about the lives he saved and the courage he showed, and instead talks about a young Vietnamese man who helped him to safety when his legs were too shot through to hold him anymore.

I don't know anything about war.

But I do know a little bit about men who've gone to war.

And none of them act the way John Kerry does.

None of them brag about, boast of, talk about or otherwise try to benefit
from their service. They don't prostitute their time in uniform for personal
gain and ambition.

They all modestly and insistently say that they "didn't do anything."

They minimize their contributions and put them in the context of the
similarly courageous and noble service provided by their comrades.

A true hero doesn't boast.

In fact, he kind of keeps his deeds to himself.

Which is what makes John Kerry so different. Which is what makes John Kerry so unbelievable.

I don't know war.

But I do know war heroes.

And he's not one of them.
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Clark County Conservative

[Curtis H.]

Both are great reads. Thank you!

[Becky]

[Navy_Navy_Navy]

We really need a Kleenex alert for this thread.

Thanks for posting those. I know they're going to get very wide dissemination - much farther than these boards.
_________________
~ Echo Juliet ~
Altering course to starboard - On Fire, Keep Clear
Navy woman, Navy wife, Navy mother

[sixdogteam]

Dagnabit! Any more saltwater on this old keyboard and we're gonna short out!!!
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HHC 212th CAB MMAF RVN '70-'71