OUR MILITARY.
- Thread starter 68jk09
- Start date
PRAYERS REQUIRED
https://www.navytimes.com/articles/update-no-sign-of-cruisers-overboard-sailor-search-widens?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Navy%20DNR%2006-07-17&utm_term=Editorial%20-%20Navy%20-%20Daily%20News%20Roundup
UPDATE: No sign of cruiser's overboard sailor, search widens
https://www.navytimes.com/articles/update-no-sign-of-cruisers-overboard-sailor-search-widens?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Navy%20DNR%2006-07-17&utm_term=Editorial%20-%20Navy%20-%20Daily%20News%20Roundup
UPDATE: No sign of cruiser's overboard sailor, search widens
- Joined
- May 6, 2010
- Messages
- 16,321
A MILITARY DAUGHTER ON FATHERS DAY.....Daddy's Poem
Her hair was up in a ponytail,
Her favorite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
And she couldn't wait to go.
But her mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home;
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.
But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.
But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why, once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.
But the little girl went to school ,
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees, a dad
Who never calls.
There were daddies along the wall in
Back, for everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seat.
One by one the teacher called
On a student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.
At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
A man who wasn't there.
"Where's her daddy at?"
She heard a boy call out.
"She probably doesn't have one,"
Another student dared to shout.
And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
"Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day."
The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher, who
Told her to go on..
And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.
"My Daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.
And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.
He loved to tell me stories,
He taught me to ride my bike;
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.
We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him.
I'm not standing here alone.
'Cause my daddy's always with me,
Even though we are apart;
I know because he told me,
He'll forever be in my heart"
With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favorite dress.
And from somewhere there in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.
For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was a right.
And when she dropped her hand back
Down, staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.
"I love my daddy very much,
he's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.
You see he is an American Soldier
And he died just this past year,,
When a roadside bomb hit his convoy
And taught Americans to fear.
But sometimes when I close my eyes,
it's like he never went away."
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.
And to her mother's amazement,
She witnessed with surprise,
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.
Who knows what they saw before them;
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.
"I know you're with me Daddy,"
to the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
of those once filled with doubt.
Not one in that room could explain it,
for each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.
And a child was blessed, if only for
a moment, by the love of her shining star.
And given the gift of believing,
that heaven is never too far.
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them.
Send this to the people you'll never forget and remember to send it also to the person that sent it to you. It's a short message to let them know that you'll never forget them.
If you don't send it to anyone, it means you're in a hurry and that you've forgotten your friends.
Take the time....to live and love.
Until eternity
God Bless
There must be many children in the same boat as this little girl, thanks to our servicemen and their families for the sacrifice they are making to keep our country free.
The ULTIMATE sacrifice is being left behind. Don't forget them.
PRAY FOR OUR TROOPS!!!
Her hair was up in a ponytail,
Her favorite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
And she couldn't wait to go.
But her mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home;
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.
But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.
But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why, once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.
But the little girl went to school ,
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees, a dad
Who never calls.
There were daddies along the wall in
Back, for everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seat.
One by one the teacher called
On a student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.
At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
A man who wasn't there.
"Where's her daddy at?"
She heard a boy call out.
"She probably doesn't have one,"
Another student dared to shout.
And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
"Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day."
The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher, who
Told her to go on..
And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.
"My Daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.
And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.
He loved to tell me stories,
He taught me to ride my bike;
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.
We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him.
I'm not standing here alone.
'Cause my daddy's always with me,
Even though we are apart;
I know because he told me,
He'll forever be in my heart"
With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favorite dress.
And from somewhere there in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.
For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was a right.
And when she dropped her hand back
Down, staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.
"I love my daddy very much,
he's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.
You see he is an American Soldier
And he died just this past year,,
When a roadside bomb hit his convoy
And taught Americans to fear.
But sometimes when I close my eyes,
it's like he never went away."
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.
And to her mother's amazement,
She witnessed with surprise,
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.
Who knows what they saw before them;
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.
"I know you're with me Daddy,"
to the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
of those once filled with doubt.
Not one in that room could explain it,
for each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.
And a child was blessed, if only for
a moment, by the love of her shining star.
And given the gift of believing,
that heaven is never too far.
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them.
Send this to the people you'll never forget and remember to send it also to the person that sent it to you. It's a short message to let them know that you'll never forget them.
If you don't send it to anyone, it means you're in a hurry and that you've forgotten your friends.
Take the time....to live and love.
Until eternity
God Bless
There must be many children in the same boat as this little girl, thanks to our servicemen and their families for the sacrifice they are making to keep our country free.
The ULTIMATE sacrifice is being left behind. Don't forget them.
PRAY FOR OUR TROOPS!!!
Yesterday, June 25, 2017, was the 21st Anniversary of the bombing of Khobar Towers, a high-rise complex which was used as housing for, primarily, U.S. Air Force personnel in Dharan, Saudi Arabia during Operation Southern Watch. Nineteen U.S. military personnel and one Saudi citizen were killed when the truck bomb detonated.
- Joined
- Aug 25, 2009
- Messages
- 28,300
- Joined
- May 6, 2010
- Messages
- 16,321
This 1967 true story is of an experience by a young 12 year old boy in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. It is about the vivid memory of a privately rebuilt P-51 from WWII and its famous owner/pilot.
In the morning sun, I could not believe my eyes. There, in our little airport, sat a majestic P-51. They said it had flown in during the night from some U.S. Airport, on its way to an air show. The pilot had been tired, so he just happened to choose Kingston for his stop over. It was to take to the air very soon. I marveled at the size of the plane, dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down by her. It was much larger than in the movies. She glistened in the sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by.
The pilot arrived by cab, paid the driver, and then stepped into the pilot's lounge. He was an older man; his wavy hair was gray and tossed. It looked like it might have been combed, say, around the turn of the century. His flight jacket was checked, creased and worn - it smelled old and genuine. Old Glory was prominently sewn to its shoulders. He projected a quiet air of proficiency and pride devoid of arrogance. He filed a quick flight plan to Montreal ("Expo-67 Air Show") then walked across the tarmac.
After taking several minutes to perform his walk-around check, the tall, lanky man returned to the flight lounge to ask if anyone would be available to stand by with fire extinguishers while he "flashed the old bird up, just to be safe." Though only 12 at the time I was allowed to stand by with an extinguisher after brief instruction on its use -- "If you see a fire, point, then pull this lever!", he said. (I later became a firefighter, but that's another story.) The air around the exhaust manifolds shimmered like a mirror from fuel fumes as the huge prop started to rotate. One manifold, then another, and yet another barked -- I stepped back with the others. In moments the Packard -built Merlin engine came to life with a thunderous roar. Blue flames knifed from her manifolds with an arrogant snarl. I looked at the others' faces; there was no concern. I lowered the bell of my extinguisher. One of the guys signaled to walk back to the lounge. We did. Several minutes later we could hear the pilot doing his pre-flight
run-up. He'd taxied to the end of runway 19, out of sight. All went quiet for several seconds. We ran to the second story deck to see if we could catch a glimpse of the P-51 as she started down the runway. We could not. There we stood, eyes fixed to a spot half way down 19. Then a roar ripped across the field, much louder than before. Like a furious hell spawn set loose -- something mighty this way was coming. "Listen to that thing!" said the controller.
In seconds the Mustang burst into our line of sight. It's tail was already off the runway and it was moving faster than anything I'd ever seen by that point on 19. Two-thirds the way down 19 the Mustang was airborne with her gear going up. The prop tips were supersonic. We clasped our ears as the Mustang climbed hellishly fast into the circuit to be eaten up by the dog-day haze. We stood for a few moments, in stunned silence, trying to digest what we'd just seen.
The radio controller rushed by me to the radio. "Kingston tower calling Mustang?" He looked back to us as he waited for an acknowledgment. The radio crackled, "Go ahead, Kingston." "Roger, Mustang. Kingston tower would like to advise the circuit is clear for a low level pass." I stood in shock because the controller had just, more or less, asked the pilot to return for an impromptu air show! The controller looked at us. "Well, What?" He asked. "I can't let that guy go without asking. I couldn't forgive myself!"
The radio crackled once again, "Kingston, do I have permission for a low level pass, east to west, across the field?" "Roger, Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east to west pass." "Roger, Kingston, I'm coming out of 3,000 feet, stand by."
We rushed back onto the second-story deck, eyes fixed toward the eastern haze. The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a muffled screech, a distant scream. Moments later the P-51 burst through the haze. Her airframe straining against positive G's and gravity. Her wing tips spilling contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again supersonic. The burnished bird blasted across the eastern margin of the field shredding and tearing the air. At about 500 mph and 150 yards from where we stood she passed with the old American pilot saluting. Imagine. A salute! I felt like laughing; I felt like crying; she glistened; she screamed; the building shook; my heart pounded. Then the old pilot pulled her up and rolled, and rolled, and rolled out of sight into the broken clouds and indelible into my memory.
I've never wanted to be an American more than on that day! It was a time when many nations in the world looked to America as their big brother. A steady and even-handed beacon of security who navigated difficult political water with grace and style; not unlike the old American pilot
who'd just flown into my memory. He was proud, not arrogant, humble, not a braggart, old and honest, projecting an aura of America at its best.
That America will return one day! I know it will! Until that time, I'll just send off this story. Call it a loving reciprocal salute to a Country, and especially to that old American pilot: the late-JIMMY STEWART (1908-1997), Actor, real WWII Hero (Commander of a US Army Air Force Bomber Wing stationed in England), and a USAF Reserves Brigadier General, who wove a wonderfully fantastic memory for a young Canadian boy that's lasted a lifetime.
In the morning sun, I could not believe my eyes. There, in our little airport, sat a majestic P-51. They said it had flown in during the night from some U.S. Airport, on its way to an air show. The pilot had been tired, so he just happened to choose Kingston for his stop over. It was to take to the air very soon. I marveled at the size of the plane, dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down by her. It was much larger than in the movies. She glistened in the sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by.
The pilot arrived by cab, paid the driver, and then stepped into the pilot's lounge. He was an older man; his wavy hair was gray and tossed. It looked like it might have been combed, say, around the turn of the century. His flight jacket was checked, creased and worn - it smelled old and genuine. Old Glory was prominently sewn to its shoulders. He projected a quiet air of proficiency and pride devoid of arrogance. He filed a quick flight plan to Montreal ("Expo-67 Air Show") then walked across the tarmac.
After taking several minutes to perform his walk-around check, the tall, lanky man returned to the flight lounge to ask if anyone would be available to stand by with fire extinguishers while he "flashed the old bird up, just to be safe." Though only 12 at the time I was allowed to stand by with an extinguisher after brief instruction on its use -- "If you see a fire, point, then pull this lever!", he said. (I later became a firefighter, but that's another story.) The air around the exhaust manifolds shimmered like a mirror from fuel fumes as the huge prop started to rotate. One manifold, then another, and yet another barked -- I stepped back with the others. In moments the Packard -built Merlin engine came to life with a thunderous roar. Blue flames knifed from her manifolds with an arrogant snarl. I looked at the others' faces; there was no concern. I lowered the bell of my extinguisher. One of the guys signaled to walk back to the lounge. We did. Several minutes later we could hear the pilot doing his pre-flight
run-up. He'd taxied to the end of runway 19, out of sight. All went quiet for several seconds. We ran to the second story deck to see if we could catch a glimpse of the P-51 as she started down the runway. We could not. There we stood, eyes fixed to a spot half way down 19. Then a roar ripped across the field, much louder than before. Like a furious hell spawn set loose -- something mighty this way was coming. "Listen to that thing!" said the controller.
In seconds the Mustang burst into our line of sight. It's tail was already off the runway and it was moving faster than anything I'd ever seen by that point on 19. Two-thirds the way down 19 the Mustang was airborne with her gear going up. The prop tips were supersonic. We clasped our ears as the Mustang climbed hellishly fast into the circuit to be eaten up by the dog-day haze. We stood for a few moments, in stunned silence, trying to digest what we'd just seen.
The radio controller rushed by me to the radio. "Kingston tower calling Mustang?" He looked back to us as he waited for an acknowledgment. The radio crackled, "Go ahead, Kingston." "Roger, Mustang. Kingston tower would like to advise the circuit is clear for a low level pass." I stood in shock because the controller had just, more or less, asked the pilot to return for an impromptu air show! The controller looked at us. "Well, What?" He asked. "I can't let that guy go without asking. I couldn't forgive myself!"
The radio crackled once again, "Kingston, do I have permission for a low level pass, east to west, across the field?" "Roger, Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east to west pass." "Roger, Kingston, I'm coming out of 3,000 feet, stand by."
We rushed back onto the second-story deck, eyes fixed toward the eastern haze. The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a muffled screech, a distant scream. Moments later the P-51 burst through the haze. Her airframe straining against positive G's and gravity. Her wing tips spilling contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again supersonic. The burnished bird blasted across the eastern margin of the field shredding and tearing the air. At about 500 mph and 150 yards from where we stood she passed with the old American pilot saluting. Imagine. A salute! I felt like laughing; I felt like crying; she glistened; she screamed; the building shook; my heart pounded. Then the old pilot pulled her up and rolled, and rolled, and rolled out of sight into the broken clouds and indelible into my memory.
I've never wanted to be an American more than on that day! It was a time when many nations in the world looked to America as their big brother. A steady and even-handed beacon of security who navigated difficult political water with grace and style; not unlike the old American pilot
who'd just flown into my memory. He was proud, not arrogant, humble, not a braggart, old and honest, projecting an aura of America at its best.
That America will return one day! I know it will! Until that time, I'll just send off this story. Call it a loving reciprocal salute to a Country, and especially to that old American pilot: the late-JIMMY STEWART (1908-1997), Actor, real WWII Hero (Commander of a US Army Air Force Bomber Wing stationed in England), and a USAF Reserves Brigadier General, who wove a wonderfully fantastic memory for a young Canadian boy that's lasted a lifetime.
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2010
- Messages
- 1,252
Thanks Chief for making me tear up this morning! Great Story!
- Joined
- Apr 25, 2008
- Messages
- 645
http://www.navy.mil/ah_online/ftrStory.asp?issue=3&id=101444
- Joined
- May 6, 2010
- Messages
- 16,321
USN SEAL MIKE MONSOOR, RESPECT DUE !
Mike Monsoor,
Was Awarded "The Congressional Medal Of Honor" Last Week,
For Giving His Life In Iraq , As He Jumped On, And Covered With His Body, A Live Hand Grenade,
Saving The Lives Of A Large Group Of Navy Seals That Was Passing By!
During Mike Monsoor's Funeral,
At Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery , In San Diego , California ..
The Six Pallbearers Removed The Rosewood Casket From The Hearse,
And Lined Up On Each Side Of Mike Monsoor's Casket,
Were His Family Members, Friends, Fellow Sailors, And Well-wishers.
The Column Of People Continued From The Hearse, All The Way To The Grave Site.
What The Group Didn't Know At The Time Was,
Every Navy Seal
(45 To Be Exact)
That Mike Monsoor Saved That Day Was Scattered Through-Out The Column!
As The Pallbearers Carried The Rosewood Casket
Down The Column Of People To The Grave Side.
The Column Would Collapse..
Which Formed A Group Of People That Followed Behind.
Every Time The Rosewood Casket Passed A Navy Seal,
He Would Remove His Gold Trident Pin From His Uniform,
And Slap It Down Hard,
Causing The Gold Trident Pin To Embed Itself
Into The Top Of The Wooden Casket!
Then The Navy Seal Would Step Back From The Column, And Salute!
Now For Those,
Who Don't Know What A Trident Pin Is,
Here Is The Definition!
After One Completes The Basic Navy Seals Program Which Lasts For Three Weeks,
And Is Followed By Seal Qualification Training,
Which Is 15 More Weeks Of Training,
Necessary To Continue Improving Basic Skills And To Learn New Tactics And Techniques,
Required For An Assignment To A Navy Seal Platoon.
After successful completion,
Trainees Are Given Their Naval Enlisted Code,
And Are Awarded The Navy Seal Trident Pin.
With This Gold Pin They Are Now Officially Navy Seals!
It Was Said,
That You Could Hear Each Of The 45 Slaps From Across The Cemetery!
By The Time The Rosewood Casket Reached The Grave Site,
It Looked As Though It Had A Gold Inlay From The 45 Trident Pins That Lined The Top!
This Was A Fitting End To An Eternal Send-Off For A Warrior Hero!
This Should Be Front-Page News!
Instead Of The Garbage We Listen To And See Every Day.
~
Here's A Good Idea!
Since The Main Stream Media Won't Make This News.
Then We Choose To Make It News By Passing It On .
~
I Am Proud Of All The Branches Of Our Military..
Mike Monsoor,
Was Awarded "The Congressional Medal Of Honor" Last Week,
For Giving His Life In Iraq , As He Jumped On, And Covered With His Body, A Live Hand Grenade,
Saving The Lives Of A Large Group Of Navy Seals That Was Passing By!
During Mike Monsoor's Funeral,
At Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery , In San Diego , California ..
The Six Pallbearers Removed The Rosewood Casket From The Hearse,
And Lined Up On Each Side Of Mike Monsoor's Casket,
Were His Family Members, Friends, Fellow Sailors, And Well-wishers.
The Column Of People Continued From The Hearse, All The Way To The Grave Site.
What The Group Didn't Know At The Time Was,
Every Navy Seal
(45 To Be Exact)
That Mike Monsoor Saved That Day Was Scattered Through-Out The Column!
As The Pallbearers Carried The Rosewood Casket
Down The Column Of People To The Grave Side.
The Column Would Collapse..
Which Formed A Group Of People That Followed Behind.
Every Time The Rosewood Casket Passed A Navy Seal,
He Would Remove His Gold Trident Pin From His Uniform,
And Slap It Down Hard,
Causing The Gold Trident Pin To Embed Itself
Into The Top Of The Wooden Casket!
Then The Navy Seal Would Step Back From The Column, And Salute!
Now For Those,
Who Don't Know What A Trident Pin Is,
Here Is The Definition!
After One Completes The Basic Navy Seals Program Which Lasts For Three Weeks,
And Is Followed By Seal Qualification Training,
Which Is 15 More Weeks Of Training,
Necessary To Continue Improving Basic Skills And To Learn New Tactics And Techniques,
Required For An Assignment To A Navy Seal Platoon.
After successful completion,
Trainees Are Given Their Naval Enlisted Code,
And Are Awarded The Navy Seal Trident Pin.
With This Gold Pin They Are Now Officially Navy Seals!
It Was Said,
That You Could Hear Each Of The 45 Slaps From Across The Cemetery!
By The Time The Rosewood Casket Reached The Grave Site,
It Looked As Though It Had A Gold Inlay From The 45 Trident Pins That Lined The Top!
This Was A Fitting End To An Eternal Send-Off For A Warrior Hero!
This Should Be Front-Page News!
Instead Of The Garbage We Listen To And See Every Day.
~
Here's A Good Idea!
Since The Main Stream Media Won't Make This News.
Then We Choose To Make It News By Passing It On .
~
I Am Proud Of All The Branches Of Our Military..
- Joined
- May 6, 2010
- Messages
- 16,321
PRES TRUMP PRESENTS MOH TO VIETNAM VET..... https://www.google.com/search?q=PRESIDENT+TRUMP+PRESENTS+MOH+TO+VIETNAM+VET&oq=PRESIDENT+TRUMP+PRESENTS+MOH+TO+VIETNAM+VET&gs_l=psy-ab.12...15891.20747.0.23409.14.14.0.0.0.0.190.1117.7j4.11.0....0...1.1.64.psy-ab..3.0.0.Icw1kUwk8bM