Now I do not know if this is true or not Snopes.com has it as undetermined. Frankly I don't give a shit this is how we should be writing about America's Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and Airmen and how they are treated by it's citizens.
Sack Lunches
I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my assigned
seat. It was going to be a long flight. 'I'm glad I have a good book to read. Perhaps I will get a short nap,' I thought.
Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. I decided to start a conversation.
'Where are you headed?' I asked the soldier seated nearest to me.
'Petawawa. We'll be there for two weeks for special training, and then we're being deployed to Afghanistan
After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that sack lunches were available for five dollars. It would be several hours before we reached the east, and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time...
As I reached for my wallet, I overheard a soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy lunch. 'No, that seems like a lot of money for just a sack lunch. Probably wouldn't be worth five bucks. I'll wait till we get to base.'
His friend agreed.
I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch. I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty dollar bill. 'Take a lunch to all those soldiers.' She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me. 'My son was a soldier in Iraq; it's almost like you are doing it for him.'
Picking up ten sacks, she headed up the aisle to where the soldiers were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked, 'Which do you like best - beef or chicken?'
'Chicken,' I replied, wondering why she asked. She turned and went to the front of plane, returning a minute later with a dinner plate from first class.
'This is your thanks.'
After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the rest room. A man stopped me. 'I saw what you did. I want to be part of it. Here, take this.' He handed me twenty-five dollars.
Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Flight Captain coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he was not looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane. When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand and said, 'I want to shake your hand.' Quickly unfastening my seat belt I stood and took the Captain's hand.
With a booming voice he said, 'I was a soldier and I was a military pilot. Once, someone bought me a lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot.' I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.
Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs. A man who was seated about six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine. He left another twenty-five dollars in my palm.
When we landed I gathered my belongings and started to deplane. Waiting just inside the airplane door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word. Another twenty-five dollars!
Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to the base. I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five dollars. 'It will take you some time to reach the base. It will be about time for a sandwich. God Bless You.'
Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow travelers.
As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our country. I could only give them a couple of
meals. It seemed so little...
A veteran 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 my life.'
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.
Showing posts with label Marines. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marines. Show all posts
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving Day
Well it is Thanksgiving Day again and this year(and the next three) America is going to be the bad guy. Do we have faults? Yes. Are we perfect? No. Are we the last, best hope on earth for freedom-loving people to come to? Hell, yes. In fact people die trying to get in, does that happen in any dictatorial, fascist or communist country? Hell, no. So today I will spend time with my family, at least I get to see my nieces and nephews who I do not to get to see enough. I will sit on my fat ass and stuff my fat face. I will digest by yelling at the Giants while they frustrate the hell out if me. But always in the back of my mind will I give thanks that my people had a chance to come to a place that would afford me these luxuries. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you and yours. Thanks to Blackfive.net and men like this:
A Time for Giving Thanks
Posted By Blackfive
[This is a repost from 2005. It's still appropriate...Corporal Javier Alvarez is Someone You Should Know, and Captain James Eadie, a Harvard University Medical School grad, is too.]
RudeOne (USAF Call Sign) sends this email, a must read if ever there was one, that he received from Captain James Eadie today:
A Time for Thanksgiving
As Thanksgiving quickly approaches, I eagerly anticipate the plates of turkey and stuffing, the moments of camaraderie around the TV watching football and the sharing of stories amongst friends, but it is the soldiers’ stories of bravery and courage that should be shared on this day of Thanksgiving.
I had the rare chance to talk in depth with one of my CCATT patients on our last flight, a young 24 year old Marine from Camp Pendleton, California. It is Javier’s story hangs with me this day. Javier gave me permission to share his story with you, a true story of heroism, and sacrifice that deserves to be told on Thanksgiving.
On the morning of 16 November 2005, the Marines of 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment were taking part in operations along the Iraq-Syrian board to clear the towns of insurgents.
Javier [Alvarez], a strong and sturdy looking square jawed Marine Corporal was on his third deployment to Iraq. He had seen heavy combat in his previous two deployments, and had been injured once before earning him a Purple Heart. On this day he was in command of a Squad of fourteen men. I knew just by talking to him that his men were fortunate to have him leading them into battle. He spoke with clarity and confidence of a man twice his age. In the truest essence, he was a Marine.
Taking point, Javier led his five man team towards the house. Shots rang out around them as they advanced. They could see the downed Marines ahead. A young Lieutenant lay face down outside the house. Javier did not know if he was still alive. They would have to act quickly if they were to save him and the others.
As they approached the house the enemy fire intensified and Javier felt a sudden sting and burning in his right leg. He looked down at his leg. Damn, he thought, “I’ve been shot.” He indeed had taken two bullets to his thigh, but he pushed on.
Undeterred, Javier continued to lead his men towards the house. With increasing fire, they took up a defensive posture against the house wall. Slightly protected there, he began tending his wounds with direct pressure as the others returned fire. He could see several downed Marines only arm lengths away, but they could not be reached safely. Gun fire continued to rain down on them. Another member of the squad was hit. They were in a bad position.
What happened next was recalled to me by the Medic that they called Doc. During the barrage of fire, with their backs literally up against a wall an enemy grenade was thrown out of a window landing in the middle of the five men. Doc told me “It was amazing. I was applying pressure to one of the injured soldiers when someone yelled out GRENADE. Javier just dove at the grenade. I have never seen anything like it.”
Javier grabbed the grenade with his right hand. He told me “I knew I only had three to five seconds before it would go off.” With his body shielding his men from the grenade, he made a valiant effort to heave the grenade away. As the grenade left his hand it exploded.
Javier’s right hand was immediately amputated at the wrist. Shrapnel from the grenade penetrated his left thigh. Others in his group took shrapnel to their arms and legs, but no one lost their life.
Doc told me on the plane that he was convinced that they all would have died if it were not for Javier’s heroic actions.
The fighting continued. As more Marines approached the house to provide covering fire, Javier now with two gun shot wounds to his right leg, shrapnel to his left leg and an amputated right hand worked to get his injured men clear. With the aid of his Platoon Sergeant, Javier and his men walked out of the kill zone to the casualty collection point away from the fighting.
Doc stayed in the fight for a while despite being hit with shrapnel from the grenade. He tended to the downed Marines and at one point crawled into the house to pull out the Marine who lay inside. Unfortunately, most of the Marines they came to help had been fatally injured. There was little that could be done. Doc continued to care for the downed soldiers until others noted his wounds. Doc was finally escorted out of the fight to attend to his injuries.
In all told, Javier’s Squad took heavy injuries. We air lifted out 6 members who had sustained shrapnel injuries and one who lost his leg. Javier clearly took the brunt of the injuries, but miraculously no one lost their life. Javier’s selfless action had saved the lives of many men.
I spoke at length with Javier on the flight to Germany. Perhaps it was the awe that I felt talking with him that kept me coming back, or maybe the fact that his men admired him so much. In the end, I think I was drawn in by him because he was just like you and me. He was real. A soldier who had done everything asked of him by his country. He fought with honor and dignity, and led his men with courage. Above all, he put his men’s life above his and protected them from harm.
He didn’t ask for honors or special treatment. His biggest concern when we were loading him onto the plane was his fellow soldiers. He would not lie down until he had visualized and spoken with all of his troops on the plane.
When I arrived home from the mission, I opened the paper. There before me in simple bullet format read the names of the most recent US deaths in Iraq. I generally do not look at these lists. They are just names with no personal connection. But this day, halfway down there were five Marines listed including a young Second Lieutenant all from the 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment from Pendleton, California who had died on 16 November, 2005. These were the men that Javier and his Squad gave everything to try to save.
I stared at the paper for many minutes, recalling the story Javier and his men had told me. I marveled at the sacrifices they made and felt a tremendous sense of loss for these men whose names now stood out from the paper as not mere records, but as living, breathing men who gave everything their country asked of them.
As I get ready to celebrate Thanksgiving here in Iraq, I have so much to be thankful for. My wife is amazing, we have been blessed with a child on the way, and I feel like I have the greatest family and friends that one could ever wish for, but there is more. I see around me everyday soldiers giving everything they have with the full belief that their actions do make a difference. That their sacrifices are for freedom and will one day improve the lives of ordinary Iraqis.
When I sit down on Thursday to my thanksgiving meal, I will be holding these soldiers and their families close. We as a country have so much to be thankful for.
For me, on this Thanksgiving Day, I will be thankful for Javier. He has given the gift of life to his men and their families. I often ask myself if I was in his position, what would I have done? I don’t know, but I certainly hope that I could be like Javier.
My warmest wishes to you all for a wonderful Thanksgiving, we truly have a great deal to be thankful for.
Happy Thanksgiving,
James S Eadie, Capt USAF MC
332 Expeditionary Air Evacuation Squadron
Balad, Iraq
Critical Care Air Transport Physician
The men who died that day were Lance Corporal Roger Deeds, Lance Corporal John Lucente, Corporal Jeffrey Rogers, Corporal Joshua Ware, and 2nd Lieutenant Donald McGlothin - all from the Battalion Landing Team, 2nd Battalion, 1st Regiment, 13th MEU, 1st Marine Division.
A Time for Giving Thanks
Posted By Blackfive
[This is a repost from 2005. It's still appropriate...Corporal Javier Alvarez is Someone You Should Know, and Captain James Eadie, a Harvard University Medical School grad, is too.]
RudeOne (USAF Call Sign) sends this email, a must read if ever there was one, that he received from Captain James Eadie today:
A Time for Thanksgiving
As Thanksgiving quickly approaches, I eagerly anticipate the plates of turkey and stuffing, the moments of camaraderie around the TV watching football and the sharing of stories amongst friends, but it is the soldiers’ stories of bravery and courage that should be shared on this day of Thanksgiving.
I had the rare chance to talk in depth with one of my CCATT patients on our last flight, a young 24 year old Marine from Camp Pendleton, California. It is Javier’s story hangs with me this day. Javier gave me permission to share his story with you, a true story of heroism, and sacrifice that deserves to be told on Thanksgiving.
On the morning of 16 November 2005, the Marines of 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment were taking part in operations along the Iraq-Syrian board to clear the towns of insurgents.
Javier [Alvarez], a strong and sturdy looking square jawed Marine Corporal was on his third deployment to Iraq. He had seen heavy combat in his previous two deployments, and had been injured once before earning him a Purple Heart. On this day he was in command of a Squad of fourteen men. I knew just by talking to him that his men were fortunate to have him leading them into battle. He spoke with clarity and confidence of a man twice his age. In the truest essence, he was a Marine.
Taking point, Javier led his five man team towards the house. Shots rang out around them as they advanced. They could see the downed Marines ahead. A young Lieutenant lay face down outside the house. Javier did not know if he was still alive. They would have to act quickly if they were to save him and the others.
As they approached the house the enemy fire intensified and Javier felt a sudden sting and burning in his right leg. He looked down at his leg. Damn, he thought, “I’ve been shot.” He indeed had taken two bullets to his thigh, but he pushed on.
Undeterred, Javier continued to lead his men towards the house. With increasing fire, they took up a defensive posture against the house wall. Slightly protected there, he began tending his wounds with direct pressure as the others returned fire. He could see several downed Marines only arm lengths away, but they could not be reached safely. Gun fire continued to rain down on them. Another member of the squad was hit. They were in a bad position.
What happened next was recalled to me by the Medic that they called Doc. During the barrage of fire, with their backs literally up against a wall an enemy grenade was thrown out of a window landing in the middle of the five men. Doc told me “It was amazing. I was applying pressure to one of the injured soldiers when someone yelled out GRENADE. Javier just dove at the grenade. I have never seen anything like it.”
Javier grabbed the grenade with his right hand. He told me “I knew I only had three to five seconds before it would go off.” With his body shielding his men from the grenade, he made a valiant effort to heave the grenade away. As the grenade left his hand it exploded.
Javier’s right hand was immediately amputated at the wrist. Shrapnel from the grenade penetrated his left thigh. Others in his group took shrapnel to their arms and legs, but no one lost their life.
Doc told me on the plane that he was convinced that they all would have died if it were not for Javier’s heroic actions.
The fighting continued. As more Marines approached the house to provide covering fire, Javier now with two gun shot wounds to his right leg, shrapnel to his left leg and an amputated right hand worked to get his injured men clear. With the aid of his Platoon Sergeant, Javier and his men walked out of the kill zone to the casualty collection point away from the fighting.
Doc stayed in the fight for a while despite being hit with shrapnel from the grenade. He tended to the downed Marines and at one point crawled into the house to pull out the Marine who lay inside. Unfortunately, most of the Marines they came to help had been fatally injured. There was little that could be done. Doc continued to care for the downed soldiers until others noted his wounds. Doc was finally escorted out of the fight to attend to his injuries.
In all told, Javier’s Squad took heavy injuries. We air lifted out 6 members who had sustained shrapnel injuries and one who lost his leg. Javier clearly took the brunt of the injuries, but miraculously no one lost their life. Javier’s selfless action had saved the lives of many men.
I spoke at length with Javier on the flight to Germany. Perhaps it was the awe that I felt talking with him that kept me coming back, or maybe the fact that his men admired him so much. In the end, I think I was drawn in by him because he was just like you and me. He was real. A soldier who had done everything asked of him by his country. He fought with honor and dignity, and led his men with courage. Above all, he put his men’s life above his and protected them from harm.
He didn’t ask for honors or special treatment. His biggest concern when we were loading him onto the plane was his fellow soldiers. He would not lie down until he had visualized and spoken with all of his troops on the plane.
When I arrived home from the mission, I opened the paper. There before me in simple bullet format read the names of the most recent US deaths in Iraq. I generally do not look at these lists. They are just names with no personal connection. But this day, halfway down there were five Marines listed including a young Second Lieutenant all from the 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment from Pendleton, California who had died on 16 November, 2005. These were the men that Javier and his Squad gave everything to try to save.
I stared at the paper for many minutes, recalling the story Javier and his men had told me. I marveled at the sacrifices they made and felt a tremendous sense of loss for these men whose names now stood out from the paper as not mere records, but as living, breathing men who gave everything their country asked of them.
As I get ready to celebrate Thanksgiving here in Iraq, I have so much to be thankful for. My wife is amazing, we have been blessed with a child on the way, and I feel like I have the greatest family and friends that one could ever wish for, but there is more. I see around me everyday soldiers giving everything they have with the full belief that their actions do make a difference. That their sacrifices are for freedom and will one day improve the lives of ordinary Iraqis.
When I sit down on Thursday to my thanksgiving meal, I will be holding these soldiers and their families close. We as a country have so much to be thankful for.
For me, on this Thanksgiving Day, I will be thankful for Javier. He has given the gift of life to his men and their families. I often ask myself if I was in his position, what would I have done? I don’t know, but I certainly hope that I could be like Javier.
My warmest wishes to you all for a wonderful Thanksgiving, we truly have a great deal to be thankful for.
Happy Thanksgiving,
James S Eadie, Capt USAF MC
332 Expeditionary Air Evacuation Squadron
Balad, Iraq
Critical Care Air Transport Physician
The men who died that day were Lance Corporal Roger Deeds, Lance Corporal John Lucente, Corporal Jeffrey Rogers, Corporal Joshua Ware, and 2nd Lieutenant Donald McGlothin - all from the Battalion Landing Team, 2nd Battalion, 1st Regiment, 13th MEU, 1st Marine Division.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Earned. Never Given.
We don't ask for anything more than everything you've got. And we will let you know when you've given it. You will be measured not by what you have, but how much of yourself you're willing to give. Not by your ability to pull yourself up, but by your commitment to stand shoulder to shoulder. Not by your strength, but your honor. you will not be given anything other than the opportunity to prove that you have the courage to stand on an impenetrable line of warriors stretching 234 years. Our title is earned, never given. And what's earned is yours forever. -- Marine Corps manifesto.
Happy Birthday Marines. This country owes everyone who ever served so much more than we can ever hope to repay. From the battle in Derna (Tripoli) where the Corps fought on foreign soil for the first time and the battle of Chapultepec (Halls of Montezuma)to the Boxer Rebellion and the Battle of Belleau Wood a 20 day slugfest with the Germans in WWI that ended with a marine Marine bayonet charge then they held off a counterattack with their supreme sharpshooting skills. The World War II island hopping Marines took heavy casualties in places like; Guadalcanal, New Guinea, Tarawa, Saipan, Guam, Tinian, Peleliu, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa. Tough men in Godforsaken places fighting their way to the home island and the end of the war. In Korea the Inchon Landing and the surrounded and cut off "Chosin Few" who decimated the 10 Red Chinese divisions who attacked them. Then they fought their way back to the sea and American forces. In Vietnam there were few named battles but the marines fought and won the battles although we lost the war thanks to a total lack of support back home from politicians. Khe Sanh is a place that no marine will ever forget 77 days under siege in that red dirt outpost. They fought in Panama, Operation Desert Storm,and helped out in Africa bringing humanitarian aid, and intervened in Kosovo. We all know what they have done and continue to do in Iraq in places like Fallujah and Ramadi and also in Afghanistan hunting Taliban and Islamo-fascists. These Marines continue to fight for our freedoms and die for each other, we can never pay them back but we must never stop looking for a way to let them know we appreciate them. Semper Fi! Happy Birthday and thank you Marines!
Happy Birthday Marines. This country owes everyone who ever served so much more than we can ever hope to repay. From the battle in Derna (Tripoli) where the Corps fought on foreign soil for the first time and the battle of Chapultepec (Halls of Montezuma)to the Boxer Rebellion and the Battle of Belleau Wood a 20 day slugfest with the Germans in WWI that ended with a marine Marine bayonet charge then they held off a counterattack with their supreme sharpshooting skills. The World War II island hopping Marines took heavy casualties in places like; Guadalcanal, New Guinea, Tarawa, Saipan, Guam, Tinian, Peleliu, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa. Tough men in Godforsaken places fighting their way to the home island and the end of the war. In Korea the Inchon Landing and the surrounded and cut off "Chosin Few" who decimated the 10 Red Chinese divisions who attacked them. Then they fought their way back to the sea and American forces. In Vietnam there were few named battles but the marines fought and won the battles although we lost the war thanks to a total lack of support back home from politicians. Khe Sanh is a place that no marine will ever forget 77 days under siege in that red dirt outpost. They fought in Panama, Operation Desert Storm,and helped out in Africa bringing humanitarian aid, and intervened in Kosovo. We all know what they have done and continue to do in Iraq in places like Fallujah and Ramadi and also in Afghanistan hunting Taliban and Islamo-fascists. These Marines continue to fight for our freedoms and die for each other, we can never pay them back but we must never stop looking for a way to let them know we appreciate them. Semper Fi! Happy Birthday and thank you Marines!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Lance Cpl. Joshua Bernard
I got this from Major Pain at One Marine's View. He is the best blogger you or I will ever read. He is always dead on with his comments, be it amusing or serious. This is a serious post about a published photograph of a dying marine. The media today are out of control I do not know how our soldiers and marines can stand to have them around in the field. I have to be honest if I ever ran into a "journalist" I would beat it to a bloody mess but even a severe beating is way too good for these cockroaches. Yes the media must be dealt with severely and I am not talking about how their ratings are in the tank and the fact they cannot sell any papers. I believe you will agree with me when you read this. Common decency plain and simple the media have lost all concept of this. God speed LCpl Bernard may you be at peace and may God bless your family in this time of loss. Thank you for your sacrifice.
September 25, 2009
Thoughts form Dr. Joe
(Hat tip to Seamus)
Joe Puglia requests that I post his open letter to the AP journalists who published the photo of LCpl Joshua Bernard as he lay wounded in Afghanistan. Lance Corporal Bernard died on an operating table soon after this photo was taken.
His father, Marine 1stSgt Bernard, requested that they do not publish this photo (I will not here at OMV).
I’ve starred much too long at this empty computer screen and I’m not sure I have the words to express what I’m felling regarding Julie Jacobson, of the Associated Press (AP) and her photograph of Lance Corporal Joshua Bernard as he lay dying in some thankless, nameless, stinking village in Afghanistan. I also anguish over AP’s CEO Tom Curley, and staff members Kathleen Carroll, and John Daniszewski’s decision to distribute and publish the picture.
But you, Mr. Lyon, director of photography, don’t! Don’t even try to tell me that it is your journalistic duty to show the reality of war however unpleasant and brutal that it sometimes is. It’s the arrogance and pomposity of your profession that irks me. You think you are above simple decency to capture the last moments of a Marine and irresponsibly distribute it for publication. You rationalize the pain that you have caused the parents of Lance Corporal Bernard as your journalistic duty. How can you do that?
I know better, Mr. Lyon; I’ve seen your predecessors in Vietnam. I’ve watched journalists and listened to them on helicopters rides, in bars, at dinner, and in the field, and I have seen very little altruistic endeavor. With you guys, it’s always the story, always the story, trying to capture that one picture reporting on the sensationalism of the moment caring little of the emotions, feelings, and privacy of the soldiers who fight and die in these goddamn wars. I’ve seen them as they stick their cameras in the face of grieving soldiers asking them…”How do you feel?” How do you feel about the loss of your buddies? Many of your predecessors never gave a damn how we felt.
In his book, “Good-bye Darkness,” renowned author, William Manchester recounts his life as a 17-year-old Marine fighting in the Pacific in World War ll. He addresses the debilitating affects that irresponsible journalism had on the populace.
Let me tell you something! What I remember is that the soldier did not want you out there with them. You were a liability. You got in the way. You never had the respect of the grunts. You were never trusted. You were never for them. Your presence often curtailed the aggressiveness of unit commanders, causing them to hesitate for fear of the editorials you might write as to the conduct of the war they prosecuted. We lost men because of that.
Mr. Curley, Mr. Lyon, Mr. Daniszewski, Ms. Carroll, and Ms. Jacobson I do not know your heart. Maybe your rationale as to why you published the picture is a sincere reflection of what we both hope for, peace. I am wrong for pre-judging you and mixing your motives with those journalists who reported over forty years ago. You deserve my apology; but what you did was wrong. But I understand the fog of war and that keeps you from seeing reality. If I have pre-judged your intentions in error, then you too are a victim of war, but unlike the soldiers, your wounds are minimal.
Ms. Jacobson, I struggle with your decision when you mentioned that you initially thought of helping and aiding Lance Corporal Bernard but instead continued to take pictures. I will give you the benefit of the doubt, because I wasn’t there. I wish you resolve and peace regarding your decision not to help. If it were me, I would never have any peace.
Do I have an axe to grind? You’re damn right I do! But 40 years ago, you journalists had one too.
Marines fight and die. That’s what they do. And all we can give them as they pass to the next world is decency. But you couldn’t even do that, could you?
September 25, 2009
Thoughts form Dr. Joe
(Hat tip to Seamus)
Joe Puglia requests that I post his open letter to the AP journalists who published the photo of LCpl Joshua Bernard as he lay wounded in Afghanistan. Lance Corporal Bernard died on an operating table soon after this photo was taken.
His father, Marine 1stSgt Bernard, requested that they do not publish this photo (I will not here at OMV).
I’ve starred much too long at this empty computer screen and I’m not sure I have the words to express what I’m felling regarding Julie Jacobson, of the Associated Press (AP) and her photograph of Lance Corporal Joshua Bernard as he lay dying in some thankless, nameless, stinking village in Afghanistan. I also anguish over AP’s CEO Tom Curley, and staff members Kathleen Carroll, and John Daniszewski’s decision to distribute and publish the picture.
But you, Mr. Lyon, director of photography, don’t! Don’t even try to tell me that it is your journalistic duty to show the reality of war however unpleasant and brutal that it sometimes is. It’s the arrogance and pomposity of your profession that irks me. You think you are above simple decency to capture the last moments of a Marine and irresponsibly distribute it for publication. You rationalize the pain that you have caused the parents of Lance Corporal Bernard as your journalistic duty. How can you do that?
I know better, Mr. Lyon; I’ve seen your predecessors in Vietnam. I’ve watched journalists and listened to them on helicopters rides, in bars, at dinner, and in the field, and I have seen very little altruistic endeavor. With you guys, it’s always the story, always the story, trying to capture that one picture reporting on the sensationalism of the moment caring little of the emotions, feelings, and privacy of the soldiers who fight and die in these goddamn wars. I’ve seen them as they stick their cameras in the face of grieving soldiers asking them…”How do you feel?” How do you feel about the loss of your buddies? Many of your predecessors never gave a damn how we felt.
In his book, “Good-bye Darkness,” renowned author, William Manchester recounts his life as a 17-year-old Marine fighting in the Pacific in World War ll. He addresses the debilitating affects that irresponsible journalism had on the populace.
Let me tell you something! What I remember is that the soldier did not want you out there with them. You were a liability. You got in the way. You never had the respect of the grunts. You were never trusted. You were never for them. Your presence often curtailed the aggressiveness of unit commanders, causing them to hesitate for fear of the editorials you might write as to the conduct of the war they prosecuted. We lost men because of that.
Mr. Curley, Mr. Lyon, Mr. Daniszewski, Ms. Carroll, and Ms. Jacobson I do not know your heart. Maybe your rationale as to why you published the picture is a sincere reflection of what we both hope for, peace. I am wrong for pre-judging you and mixing your motives with those journalists who reported over forty years ago. You deserve my apology; but what you did was wrong. But I understand the fog of war and that keeps you from seeing reality. If I have pre-judged your intentions in error, then you too are a victim of war, but unlike the soldiers, your wounds are minimal.
Ms. Jacobson, I struggle with your decision when you mentioned that you initially thought of helping and aiding Lance Corporal Bernard but instead continued to take pictures. I will give you the benefit of the doubt, because I wasn’t there. I wish you resolve and peace regarding your decision not to help. If it were me, I would never have any peace.
Do I have an axe to grind? You’re damn right I do! But 40 years ago, you journalists had one too.
Marines fight and die. That’s what they do. And all we can give them as they pass to the next world is decency. But you couldn’t even do that, could you?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
A Birthday Wish of Thanks
We all know in the upcoming administration (if you believe the polls) America will not be the number one priority. But let us here who truly care about America take a minute to say thanks to our fine men and women in the Marines. Today is the 25th anniversary of the Beirut Marine barracks bombing. 241 marines and Naval Corpsmen died. That does not matter to way too many Americans but it means something to me and to you to if you are reading this blog. 233 years old and still standing guard over America thank you to each and everyone of you who have served and are serving from a grateful nation.
The Marines' Hymn:
From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli,
We fight our country's battles in the air, on land and sea.
First to fight for right and freedom, and to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title of United States Marine.
Our Flag's unfurled to every breeze from dawn to setting sun.
We have fought in every clime and place, where we could take a gun.
In the snow of far off northern lands and in sunny tropic scenes,
You will find us always on the job, the United States Marines.
Here's health to you and to our Corps, which we are proud to serve.
In many a strife we've fought for life and never lost our nerve.
If the Army and the Navy ever look on heaven's scenes,
they will find the streets are guarded by United States Marines.
The Marines' Prayer:
Almighty Father, whose command is over all and whose love never fails, make me aware of Thy presence and obedient to Thy will. Keep me true to my best self, guarding me against dishonesty in purpose in deed and helping me to live so that I can face my fellow Marines, my loved ones and Thee without shame or fear. Protect my family. Give me the will to do the work of a Marine and to accept my share of responsibilities with vigor and enthusiasm. Grant me the courage to be proficient in my daily performance. Keep me loyal and faithful to my superiors and to the duties my country and the Marine Corps have entrusted to me. Make me considerate of those committed to my leadership. Help me to wear my uniform with dignity, and let it remind me daily of the traditions which I must uphold. If I am inclined to doubt; steady my faith; if I am tempted, make me strong to resist; if I should miss the mark, give me courage to try again. Guide me with the light of truth and grant me wisdom by which I may understand the answer to my prayer. Amen.
The Marines' Hymn:
From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli,
We fight our country's battles in the air, on land and sea.
First to fight for right and freedom, and to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title of United States Marine.
Our Flag's unfurled to every breeze from dawn to setting sun.
We have fought in every clime and place, where we could take a gun.
In the snow of far off northern lands and in sunny tropic scenes,
You will find us always on the job, the United States Marines.
Here's health to you and to our Corps, which we are proud to serve.
In many a strife we've fought for life and never lost our nerve.
If the Army and the Navy ever look on heaven's scenes,
they will find the streets are guarded by United States Marines.
The Marines' Prayer:
Almighty Father, whose command is over all and whose love never fails, make me aware of Thy presence and obedient to Thy will. Keep me true to my best self, guarding me against dishonesty in purpose in deed and helping me to live so that I can face my fellow Marines, my loved ones and Thee without shame or fear. Protect my family. Give me the will to do the work of a Marine and to accept my share of responsibilities with vigor and enthusiasm. Grant me the courage to be proficient in my daily performance. Keep me loyal and faithful to my superiors and to the duties my country and the Marine Corps have entrusted to me. Make me considerate of those committed to my leadership. Help me to wear my uniform with dignity, and let it remind me daily of the traditions which I must uphold. If I am inclined to doubt; steady my faith; if I am tempted, make me strong to resist; if I should miss the mark, give me courage to try again. Guide me with the light of truth and grant me wisdom by which I may understand the answer to my prayer. Amen.
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