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Veterans Day

dart4forte

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To all my fellow veterans, Happy Veterans Day

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My Brother years ago, "Major McCool", after the Gulf War. 20 years as Herc Squadron leader out of Trenton Ontario. I think he's been in every hell hole in the world, and rarely talks about it.
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Veterans Day is when America pauses to remember that her freedom has always come at a price paid in human blood and broken bodies. It’s not a holiday of celebration so much as one of reverence— a living memorial stitched together by stories of courage, loss, and duty.
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At 11:00 a.m. on the 11th day of the 11th month —the precise moment the guns of World War I fell silent— the country honors all who wore the uniform, from the muddy trenches of France to the deserts of Iraq. The air seems to hold its breath; flags ripple in slow motion; and for a fleeting instant, even the noise of modern life softens.
Each veteran is a walking fragment of history. The old man with the weathered ball cap at the diner once jumped from a burning bomber over Europe. The quiet nurse in the VA line once fought a different war— against infection, exhaustion, and fear. The young amputee who learned to walk again carries not only his own scars but the unseen weight of comrades who didn’t return, who sacrificed their last full measure of devotion to the nation that had birthed them.
Veterans Day matters because it reminds us that citizenship is not a spectator sport. It’s a covenant, a sacred promise— one guaranteed by those willing to risk everything for people they’ve never met. In honoring them, the nation measures itself: not by its wealth or its politics, but by its gratitude.
Thank you, veterans!

 
My Brother years ago, "Major McCool", after the Gulf War. 20 years as Herc Squadron leader out of Trenton Ontario. I think he's been in every hell hole in the world, and rarely talks about it.
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One of our close friends was a female Herc payload specialist at that time; I bet they crossed paths. She was in over forty countries, been shot at, blown up, and just generally saw some horrible ****. Saw a fair bit of combat for a female in the Air Force. Consequently she has severe PTSD and we keep expecting to get the late night phone call regarding her…
We used to attend the ceremony with her but she seems to have quit going for the last two years; I think it is too hard on her. The last time we went it was an eye opener. She is the only female combat veteran that we are aware of. There are a few men, and quite a few folks that served in non combat roles. We would be chatting with her, and as soon as her beer got close to empty a male veteran would magically appear, give her a beer, take her empty, sort of bow to her, and depart without saying a word. The level of respect was heartwarming. She reigned over that room like a queen.
My boss did two tours in Afghanistan as an infantryman. He also saw a fair bit of combat, or as he puts it “people shot at me and I shot at them.” He also has PTSD that manifests when he is under stress. He is one of the finest people I know and a great guy, a great boss. He doesn’t talk about combat much, I don’t ask but he occasionally reveals a bit about what he saw. I have nothing but respect for folks who went through those things. I had a pretty easy early life just smoking pot, drinking beer and rock and rolling. Those who spent their youth fighting deserve whatever breaks we can give them.
 
One of our close friends was a female Herc payload specialist at that time; I bet they crossed paths. She was in over forty countries, been shot at, blown up, and just generally saw some horrible ****. Saw a fair bit of combat for a female in the Air Force. Consequently she has severe PTSD and we keep expecting to get the late night phone call regarding her…
We used to attend the ceremony with her but she seems to have quit going for the last two years; I think it is too hard on her. The last time we went it was an eye opener. She is the only female combat veteran that we are aware of. There are a few men, and quite a few folks that served in non combat roles. We would be chatting with her, and as soon as her beer got close to empty a male veteran would magically appear, give her a beer, take her empty, sort of bow to her, and depart without saying a word. The level of respect was heartwarming. She reigned over that room like a queen.
My boss did two tours in Afghanistan as an infantryman. He also saw a fair bit of combat, or as he puts it “people shot at me and I shot at them.” He also has PTSD that manifests when he is under stress. He is one of the finest people I know and a great guy, a great boss. He doesn’t talk about combat much, I don’t ask but he occasionally reveals a bit about what he saw. I have nothing but respect for folks who went through those things. I had a pretty easy early life just smoking pot, drinking beer and rock and rolling. Those who spent their youth fighting deserve whatever breaks we can give them.
My Brother carried and buried a lot of his personal friends after the Alert crash years ago. He's got a lot tucked away on the shelf in imaginary boxes to open later. My Daughter joined his shelf in 2015 to deal with some day later.
 
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