Everybody huddle up and take a knee.
It's Veterans Day, today. For those of you who may not know, the hostilities of World War I ended, ninety-five years ago today, on November 11, 1918. The following year, President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed November 11 as the first commemoration of "Armistice Day". The original idea was that November 11 was to be a celebration of the end of Word War I.
However, in 1954, after World War II and the Korean War were both over, Congress amended the word "Armistice" and inserted the word "Veterans" so all veterans of all wars would be honored. One note of distinction: Veterans day differs from Memorial Day, in that Veterans day honors all who served in the military, while Memorial Day is specifically reserved for those who died.
- They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
- Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
- They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
- They fell with their faces to the foe.
- 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.
- They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
- They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
- They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
- They sleep beyond England's foam
In WWII related remembrance, the Doolittle Raiders had their last toast together. Only four members of the famed Tokyo Raiders are still alive. You can see some photos of yesterday's toast and previous Doolittle gatherings here.
There will be parades throughout the US (and the world today), and the President will be participating in the traditional wreath-laying ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery.
Lest we forget, we will remember them. I don't care if you were a ranger, mechanic, cook, medic, grunt, pilot, or ran the laundry and bath point, you have my thanks for serving our country.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
ReplyDeleteTo 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.
John McCrae