Dying Well.

From Wild Bill, an important post.

from here: http://atexanabroad.blogspot.com/

Dying Well. I want you to think about those words. Truly, THINK about those words and what they mean. Do you think you could utter them? Do you honestly, to yourself, believe you have accepted the inevitable of this life? And do you think you'd have the strength of character, of fortitude, of 'guts' to follow it through? Especially if it meant Dying Well in the mud of some far-flung country, far from home and loved ones, surrounded by your enemies and by your own dead and dying comrades in arms? Covered in smoke and soot, blood and sweat, smelling cordite and death with every breath you took? Just ask yourself if you could do it, go into the 'Valley of the Shadow of Death' and do it with honor, fully accepting the outcome of your actions. I'd like to think I could, but I pray never to get tested to that point, because I'm just not sure I could.

Well America your fighting men and women do. They've had it since Valley Forge, the Battle of Cowpens and the Battle of Bunker Hill. It was present in those that fought the many naval battles of the Quasi War. It was there at the Battle of Derna when the Marine Corp Hymn earned an endearing part ("to the shores of Tripoli"). It was shown time and again at the battles of Lake Erie, Lake Champlain and New Orleans (though I doubt Jackson's forces were powdering the behinds of any alligators). It was there when Kerney's men took Santa Fe, San Diego and Los Angeles. It rode into battle at Monterrey, Vera Cruz and Mexico City.

It reared its honorable head at the Battles of Bull Run, Chancellorsville, Vicksburg, Gettysburg, Mobile Bay and Atlanta. It fought, bled and died with honor and dedication to duty whether clothed in Blue or Grey. It mattered not what accent it’s owner spoke, it speaks it’s own universal language.

It was afloat with the USS Maine in Havana Harbor, but it didn’t die with her. It lived on in the Marines that stormed onto the shores of Guantanamo Bay, the US personnel that sunk the Spanish fleet in Manila Bay, and the destruction of the Spanish fleet in Santiago Bay. It would charge into battle to lift the siege of Peking.

It charged German guns and gas on the Marne, and the Battle of Belliou Woods. It faced down the Bolsheviks (the Soviets) at Vladivostok, Archangel, and Siberia. (Yes, we were involved in the Russian Revolution.)

The US military ideals were firmly in place and on display during Pearl Harbor, Clark Field and North Africa. American dedication and service was on display at Omaha, Utah, Gold, Sword and Juno beachheads. It was there when we retook Leyte Gulf under Kamikaze attack and when we marched across the Rhein following the Battle of the Bulge. It waged up mountains at Okinawa and Iwo Jima, and it was there to liberate POWs at Camp Cabanatuan. It knew not skin color or language as the Navaho Code Talkers demonstrated, along with the Tuskegee Airmen. It comforted the dying of its own, and of the victims of its enemies at the likes of the Palau Islands and Birkenau. It dog-fought it’s way across the skies of Europe and Asia. And it retained its honor when the fighting was done. It even comforted its enemy at the end of hostilities.

It landed with our forces at Inchon and pushed past the 38th Parallel, all the way to the Yalu River. It was present at Ia Drang and rode with a saddened heart, but unbent pride, from Saigon.

It was attacked, but not killed in Beirut, when human roaches attacked under the cover of darkness to spread fear and destruction. It routed the enemy at Battles of Khafji and Rumaylah.

It went into Grenada to liberate the island, as well as Haiti. It crawled, bloodied but defiant from the rubble of Kenya and Tanzania. It evaded capture in Kosovo, and it was paraded on international television at the hands of thugs in Yugoslavia, beaten but still present and proud.

The spirit was ready and willing on 9-11, though the only ‘uniform’ it wore was of honorable men and women united purely by an affinity for freedom, life, liberty and the desire to save other innocents when they knew their time was a hand. It was present in flight 94 when the immortal words of “Let’s Roll” were uttered.

It’s still there in Kabul and Kandahar; Mosul, Ramallah, and Baghdad; Doha and Kuwait City, and countless other locations around the globe, many that you will never even hear exist.