Veterans Day 2013

To those who served: Thank you.

To those currently serving: Thank you.

To the civilians circa 1985-1991: You’re welcome.

My suggestions for the best way to thank the troops?

1) Enjoy life in a free country. A gift ain’t a gift unless it’s enjoyed. Do something fun.

2) Be the kind of American who’s worth fighting for.

11 Comments

  1. Thank you to everyone who has, is currently and will serve.

    Has anyone here served?

    My step dad served in the US Army as a Drill Instructor in TX. Towards the end of WWII, he was shipped overseas. He saw action during the Battle of The Bulge and was wounded in a farmhouse somewhere in France. His squad was pinned down and had to wait 3 days to be evacuated. He really didn’t talk about it much. Passed away in 1995.

    I served in the US Navy from 1983 to 1986 on the aircraft carrier USS Saratoga CV-60. Made 2 deployments. One was a Mediterranean Cruise and the other was a Mediterranean / Indian Ocean Cruise. Saw Rocky IV in Singapore during Christmas. Saw minimal action during the “Achille Lauro hijacking (1985)” and the “Action in the Gulf of Sidra (1986)”.

  2. Not me, but my dad was a tank commander, 6th Armored; my father-in-law drove a .50 cal on the back of a jeep, landing on the beach on D-Day +1; my husband was an Air Force OR Tech during Vietnam, mostly based at SAC HQ in Omaha plus 6 months in England; and my brother-in-law was in the Navy. Unfortunately, I don’t have a Marine or Coastie to complete the set.

  3. 3rd generation US Army.

    Bunkergramps was an officer with the 26th Infantry. Saw action in St. Mihiel and Meuse-Argonne.

    Bunkerhilldaddo flew P-40s in the skies over China with a pilot named Chennault before WWII, then saw action in N. Africa with the 15th Air Force under Ira Eaker.

    My service was considerably less hectic, chasing Stasi around Berlin, they in turn trying to do likewise. I retired with the space above the left pocket of my tunic considerably less ribbon-bedecked than my forbearers, but did have the quiet honor of my mom pinning the same butter bars that had been pinned to those men’s uniforms onto mine.

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