Quote:
Originally posted by PornoDoggy@May 29 2005, 09:45 AM
I went to the little country cemetery where my maternal grandfather is buried yesterday. He was in the Army during the first World War. He comes from a family of 11 children who lived through childhood; one of his brothers died in France.
He has three nephews who died in World War II buried there, along with another who died in Korea. One of the cousins I looked up to the most when I was a little kid is also there - he ran into some unpleasantness at a lunar New Year's Party he didn't know he'd been invited to after getting greetings and salutations from the President of the United States his own self.
There are veteran's graves in this little cemetery that date back to the Mexican War. There are just about an equal number of Grand Army of the Republic markers as there are Sons of the Confederacy. There are also veterans of Indian conflicts in "the West" - Tennessee and Illinois.
Two sections over from where most of the family is located is a fresh grave with dying flowers and fading flags - according to the little old guy who sold me the flags to mark the family graves - a local teacher, volunteer paramedic, and father of two.
The next time you hear some cocksucker admit out loud what we all know - that this is about oil, not freedom - knock his fucking teeth so far down his throat he can remove naval lint with his teeth.
If you run into someone who thinks we ought to be there but that he is too good to go - kick him hard enough in the nuts to ensure he doesn't reproduce.
The beat goes on.
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I think women see war differently than men do. I guess its the maternal instinct.
Almost all the men in my family were either Royal Navy or in the Merchant Marine...with the exception of my brother who trained to be a paratrooper and then promptly broke his ankle in three places on his first jump and ended up in the Royal Navy anyway.
I remember visiting Arlington Cemetary on a trip to Washington, DC and looking out over rows and rows of white crosses thinking what a waste. At the Vietnam War Memorial I saw great hulking men holding their hands against the name on the wall of a friend or relative they had lost and just standing there sobbing. Hard not to be moved to tears just seeing those things.
I guess there are some wars we have to be in because it means our very survival, and some wars we choose to be in for whatever other reasons we are told we should be in them. I am glad I never had to fight in a war and I wish that nobody else had to fight and die in one either.