seticat

{set rant=ON} Just so you know.

An LJ is, in essence, a person's own private graffiti wall. Like it. Love it. Agree with it. Hate it. There here's my own little portion of the Internet and I pretty much have an open say what goes up on 'the wall'. The following is in honor of all the kurfluffel currently going on in Berkeley, CA. You know - that big 'free speech or else' liberal college town down south of me.

Today's definition is 'What is a veteran'.

"A veteran - whether active duty, retired, national guard or reserve - is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America', for an amount of 'up to and including his life.' That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it."
-- Author Unknown

Guess what, Berkeley. Veterans are the reason you can say what you say, do what you do and get away with it. In quite a few other countries in the world if you gave tacit approval for a group of people to set up camp in front of the government run recruiting office to protest their very existence there, said military would come out of their building and beat the ever lovin' snot out of you.

Don't like the Marines? Fine. No one says you have to. Hey - I'm 'a soldier in recovery' [no such thing as ex-anyone in my book] and have been known to look at my breathern and sisternan in MarPat in gentile confusion at times. Don't want to join the Marines or any other branch of the military? Cool. I don't think I'd want you in a fox hole or firing position with me and mine. But let's make a deal. If and/or when some 'bad guy' does something you *really* don't like to you and yours - like, oh let's say, like blow up a college or a mall or some such, please don't come whining to the military of this country to come bail your sorry ass out. Because, you know what? They will. They'll be right there putting their lives on the line to rescue your sorry butt. Because that's the kind of men and women they are. And I'd hate to think they're doing something you are so strongly against - that is, being the US military.

I've always said Kipling said it best in his poem "Tommy"


"Tommy"

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o'beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's ``Thank you, Mister Atkins,'' when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Atkins,'' when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy how's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints:
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind,"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country," when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!


So folks in Berkeley CA, please take a minute - heck, take a whole hour or so, to think about what you're doing and the message you're sending: not only to the rest of the US but the world. I understand not being in support of the war - I really do. But bitching at the men and women who are just trying to do the best job they can isn't the answer. Bitch with your feet and your vote. *Tell* your government at it's highest levels your feelings on the matter and get another man or woman in the position of Commander in Chief if that's what'll take to make you comfortable with your conscious.

But just remember, it's the men and women of the US Military who make sure you can dream that dream of a new world in safety.

{set rant=OFF}