Memorial Day

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While someone is in Japan apologizing to them for the United States using Atomic bombs to end World War II, thus saving countless American, Australian, New Zealander, British, AND Japanese lives, I thought I’d talk about what Memorial Day actually means.

It’s a day to remember those who gave up their lives to defend America (and the rest of the civilized world) in many wars.

It’s a day to remember the Marines at Belleau Wood in 1918. They fought a battle in a war which the United States had no vital interests and likely would have stayed out of if the Germans hadn’t undertaken a policy of Unrestricted Submarine Warfare. Not that the Germans helped themselves by sending the Zimmerman Telegram. Not that it matters as the Marines were still just as dead.

It’s a day to remember the Sailors, Soldiers, and Marines at Pearl Harbor, Wake Island, Bataan, and other outposts of what became the Pacific Theater of War.

It’s a day to remember the Naval and Marine aviators at the Battle of Midway.

It’s a day to remember the Sailors, Coast Guardsmen, and Merchant Mariners who sailed the Atlantic Ocean and died from German Torpedoes that sank their ships.

It’s a day to remember the men of Task Force Smith, whose sacrifice delayed the North Koreans just long enough for other American forces to reorganize.

It’s a day to remember the Tet Offensive and the people who died defeating the Viet Cong and NVA. Not that the media bothered to tell the truth about how much that hurt the Communist forces. That, however, is not part of today’s post.

It’s a day to remember those that have died in the current War Against Islamofascism, despite the efforts of some to undo the victories and dishonor the sacrifice.

I could go on Ad infinitum, but won’t since the point has been made.

I’ll just close with this bit of poetry.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To 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.

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