11.11.17

[CatchersMitt14]

Some refer to it as Remembrance Day, some Armistice Day, and some Veterans Day. Regardless, many similarities appear between the holidays between both the meaning and how we acknowledge them.



[spoiler=Remembrance Day - Canada]

Every year on November 11, Canadians pause in a silent moment of remembrance for the men and women who have served, and continue to serve our country during times of war, conflict and peace. We honour those who fought for Canada in the First World War (1914-1918), the Second World War (1939-1945), and the Korean War (1950-1953), as well as those who have served since then. More than 2.3 million Canadians have served our country in this way, and more than 118,000 have died. They gave their lives and their futures so that we may live in peace.

[/spoiler]
[spoiler=Veterans Day - United States]

This holiday started as a day to reflect upon the heroism of those who died in our country's service and was originally called Armistice Day. It fell on Nov. 11 because that is the anniversary of the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I. However, in 1954, the holiday was changed to "Veterans Day" in order to account for all veterans in all wars.

We celebrate and honor America's veterans for their patriotism, love of country and willingness to serve and sacrifice for the common good.

[/spoiler]

ABERDEEN PROVING GROUND, Md. (Nov. 9, 2012) -- World War I happened nearly a century ago in Europe. Frank Buckles, the last living American WWI Veteran, died last year at the age of 110. It was the sacrifice of he and of his fellow service members that inspired the holiday Americans are about to observe: Veterans Day.

Originally known as Armistice Day to honor the living veterans of the First World War, Veterans Day has transformed into a holiday inclusive of service members of all eras. Veterans Day is a national holiday of remembrance and recognition of all those who served regardless of branch or duty status, Reserve or active component.

Looking back on Veterans Day as Armistice Day is at once nostalgic as well as historically mindful. Historian Robert H. Ferrell of Indiana University Bloomington reminds readers that what was once a staple celebration represented by World War I era artifacts and culture was translated into a holiday that could span generations. In his work, "Oatmeal and Coffee: Memoirs of a Hoosier Soldier in World War I," Ferrell outlines those Great War Soldiers were a very different breed than their World War II counterparts. Doughboys, as World War I Soldiers were called, were not the same as the Yanks or G.I.s of World War II.

ARMISTICE DAY

An armistice, or temporary cease fire, between the Allied Nations and Germany stopped the fighting of World War I on November 11, 1918. Known at the time as the Great War, the end of combat became effective on the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. The official end of the war would not come for another seven months, on June 28, 1919, when the Treaty of Versailles was signed. A publication from 1918, America Magazine, marked the day as one of triumph and joy, even amongst those suffering from losses. A passage from this magazine read: "There would be time and enough in the future to grieve for the ravages was had wrought in their own lives, but on the day of the armistice all gave way to universal rejoicing, because mankind was once more free."

President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed the first "Armistice Day" on Nov. 11, 1919, to show solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service. Wilson declared "To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service." The original concept for the celebration was for the suspension of business for a two minute period beginning at 11 a.m., with the day also marked by parades and public meetings.

In 1920, France and the United Kingdom each held ceremonies honoring their unknown dead from the war. An "unknown soldier" of the Great War was buried in each nation's highest place of honor: in England, Westminster Abbey; in France, the Arc de Triomphe. This holiday is now known as Remembrance Day in Canada, the United Kingdom, France, and Belgium, and commemorates all who served.

In 1921, an unknown American Soldier was interred at Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington, Va. Armistice Day officially received its name in America in 1926 through a Congressional Resolution (44 Stat. 1982). This proclamation read: "It is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations."

Sources: Veterans Affairs Canada, Military.com, History.com, Smithsonian, Pritzker Military, Army.mil



2015 "In Flanders Fields" Poetry Event


What we would now like to do is open this thread for both veterans and their families, from all countries, to post any personal accounts and stories of previous wars passed through the generations for the CC community to read and appreciate what our veterans and their families have done for us through the years.

[Keefie]

For the Fallen
BY LAURENCE BINYON

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.


Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.


They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.


They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.


They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.


But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;


As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

[ConfederateSS]

--------Well My Father was a Lt. in The Korean Police Action ...He was Captain in The Vietnam War...He never talked about his battles...But when he came home , I watched people spit at him, throw eggs and tomatoes at him ,yell murderer and boo him...Later on in life I watched the Ken Burns account of the American Civil War...When the war was over losing troops were going to surrender to Union places and go home...One Union officer had him and his horse bow to the Confederate soldiers...His men salute them..."MEN THEY ARE OUR BROTHERS AGAIN ,LETS WELCOME THEM HOME",he said...My Father loved the Movie "Gone With The Wind, his favorite Rhett Butler/Clark Cable" ,that is were my user name comes by to Honor my Father...I remember a story on the radio show of Paul Harvey about a frozen day in Korea ,where a miracle took place, some claim to have seen God's Angel Warrior MICHEAL...One Veteran's Day ,Ironically like today on a Sat.,Don Cherry on coach's corner was furious,more so than usual(Poor Ron Mclean)...He was mad because some punks beat up and robbed an old lady who was selling Poppies...I guess some people just don't care, I can't imagine why people would do that to their countries, burn flags,spit on people,rob...If they only new what THEIR FELLOW PEOPLE AND COUNTRY HAS DONE FOR THEM.... ConfederateSS.out!(The Blue and Silver Rebellion)...

[Dukasaur]

[Dukasaur]

[shacia]

[Mad777]

That was my Squad...great time

[Enter Smith]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wq0X0bwMprQ

We all have to re,e,her they are still heroes when they get home and still need our love and support. Thanks to all who serve.

[Dukasaur]

Very few people have posted their stories, which is somewhat disappointing to me. I had really hoped to see a lot of people come out with their favourite family gem.

Oh, well. Anyway, here's one of my favourite family war stories. It's not a combat story, but it's very definitely a story of the first world war.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

My great-grandfather was a gynecologist, one of the first in Prague. This was just shortly after the great Ignaz Semmelweis had put gynecology on the map as a legitimate specialty, and it was all the rage. My great-grandfather was an early adopter, a real apostle of Semmelweis, and he became wealthy and fairly well-known.

He was also one of the first in Prague to own a motor-car, and as was the custom in those cultured times, on Sunday he would go on promenade and drive his motor-car around town and then out to the countryside for a Sunday drive. On one particular Sunday, he was driving out to the country up into the hills, when he was stopped by an Army sentry, and told that the road ahead was closed for artillery practice.

"This is my favourite road," he said to the sentry.

"The road is closed, as it is essential for the Army to train new artillery gunners."

"I am a free citizen and I will drive along the road if I please," he returned. "Tell the Kaiser to go fight his silly little war somewhere else."

And with that he put the hammer down and drove right past the sentry and down the road, presumably with artillery shells falling left and right. I suppose the could have shot him, but they didn't.

What's your favourite story from the war?

[ConfederateSS]

Very few people have posted their stories, which is somewhat disappointing to me. I had really hoped to see a lot of people come out with their favourite family gem.

Oh, well. Anyway, here's one of my favourite family war stories. It's not a combat story, but it's very definitely a story of the first world war.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

My great-grandfather was a gynecologist, one of the first in Prague. This was just shortly after the great Ignaz Semmelweis had put gynecology on the map as a legitimate specialty, and it was all the rage. My great-grandfather was an early adopter, a real apostle of Semmelweis, and he became wealthy and fairly well-known.

He was also one of the first in Prague to own a motor-car, and as was the custom in those cultured times, on Sunday he would go on promenade and drive his motor-car around town and then out to the countryside for a Sunday drive. On one particular Sunday, he was driving out to the country up into the hills, when he was stopped by an Army sentry, and told that the road ahead was closed for artillery practice.

"This is my favourite road," he said to the sentry.

"The road is closed, as it is essential for the Army to train new artillery gunners."

"I am a free citizen and I will drive along the road if I please," he returned. "Tell the Kaiser to go fight his silly little war somewhere else."

And with that he put the hammer down and drove right past the sentry and down the road, presumably with artillery shells falling left and right. I suppose the could have shot him, but they didn't.

What's your favourite story from the war?

-------Americans are to busy protesting over meaningless things...To remember...Why they are able to cry foul in life,in the first place...Well back to your box of crayons ,left wingers... ...While the rest of us are putting poppies on the graves of our fallen HEROES ConfederateSS.out!(The Blue and Silver Rebellion)...

[DoomYoshi]

World War I brought an effective end to the aristocratic class of Europe. That's what I remember it for.

[tzor]

My father was a veteran of the “Second” World War (it should be noted that the Great War only became the “First” World War after the start of the second). He came from the eastern end of long island where the “old rich” had their estates and their golf courses and their beaches. In the fall before his eighteenth birthday he and his friend headed to the high school but was met at the door by the principal. “You can’t come in,” she insisted. “You’re going be drafted in a few months.” Sure enough, he and his friend were drafted. He went into the army and his friend into the navy.

After receiving his basic training, he went off to fill much needed men in the 36th infantry division, being assigned company “C.” He was, since he was the most recent, often sent ahead to scout the area ahead. It was one of those occasions when the company had to do a retreat and as a result he was surrounded by the Germans. He was captured and was sent to two prisoner of war camps.

It is difficult to describe his experience in those camps. This was close to the end of the war. It was hard work (because he was not an officer) every day and very little food (because there was in general very little food in Germany). The guards were all recovering from wounds they received on the most dangerous battle line, the eastern front. They knew that once they recovered they would be sent back to the line and that would most likely be a one way trip.

One interesting thing was Armistice Day. Yes even in the middle of the war, the German guards would honor the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

His liberation was an interesting story in and of itself. The guards, seeing that the Americans were approaching, not only gave up their posts, but literally handed the prisoners their weapons because they wanted to just blend in with the civilians and just lead a regular life again. My father and his friend now freed and waiting for the troops, spotted a pigeon. My father pointed to the pigeon. His friend fired, the bullet going right through his arm.

And that’s how you can be a member of the “Disabled American Veterans” without getting the Purple Heart (“friendly fire”). He returned home, recovered from his wounds, and eventually died at the age of 91, a long life for someone who at one point never thought he was going to see his 19th birthday.

[IcePack]

Very few people have posted their stories, which is somewhat disappointing to me. I had really hoped to see a lot of people come out with their favourite family gem.

Unfortunately (thankfully?) my family doesn't have any horror stories.
My moms side were conscientious objectors / farmers so they largely were untouched by the war(s).
My dads side, my grandfather had enlisted when he was able. He was in Canada for most of the war, and when he was to be shipped out by the time they landed in europe the war had ended. Unfortunately both sides passed away while I was still young, so I really dont know many of the details surronding their objections / deployments or any interesting stories but from what I do know both of them really didn't talk much about the time anyway.

[1/2nuts1/2genius]

I don't like to talk about my experiences often. But here is one line my first deployment. March 20, 2003. We'd been sitting out in the middle of the Kuwaiti desert for a month. We lived out of our vehicles and spent a vast majority of our time training for the upcoming war without communication with family due to our location. Dinner was an MRE and sometimes we got kool-aid. To say the least, it sucked big time. On that March morning, I turned 22. We loaded up our vehicles and began the push into Iraq. The border between the two countries had two big berms built up with a flat area of about 1/2 mile in between them. After passing through the first berm, the first thing I noticed was grass. Not having seen grass in at least 3 months, the first thing I could think to say was "hey, the grass really is greener on the other side!"

[sm8900]

Some refer to it as Remembrance Day, some Armistice Day, and some Veterans Day. Regardless, many similarities appear between the holidays between both the meaning and how we acknowledge them.



[spoiler=Remembrance Day - Canada]

Every year on November 11, Canadians pause in a silent moment of remembrance for the men and women who have served, and continue to serve our country during times of war, conflict and peace. We honour those who fought for Canada in the First World War (1914-1918), the Second World War (1939-1945), and the Korean War (1950-1953), as well as those who have served since then. More than 2.3 million Canadians have served our country in this way, and more than 118,000 have died. They gave their lives and their futures so that we may live in peace.

[/spoiler]
[spoiler=Veterans Day - United States]

This holiday started as a day to reflect upon the heroism of those who died in our country's service and was originally called Armistice Day. It fell on Nov. 11 because that is the anniversary of the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I. However, in 1954, the holiday was changed to "Veterans Day" in order to account for all veterans in all wars.

We celebrate and honor America's veterans for their patriotism, love of country and willingness to serve and sacrifice for the common good.

[/spoiler]

ABERDEEN PROVING GROUND, Md. (Nov. 9, 2012) -- World War I happened nearly a century ago in Europe. Frank Buckles, the last living American WWI Veteran, died last year at the age of 110. It was the sacrifice of he and of his fellow service members that inspired the holiday Americans are about to observe: Veterans Day.

Originally known as Armistice Day to honor the living veterans of the First World War, Veterans Day has transformed into a holiday inclusive of service members of all eras. Veterans Day is a national holiday of remembrance and recognition of all those who served regardless of branch or duty status, Reserve or active component.

Looking back on Veterans Day as Armistice Day is at once nostalgic as well as historically mindful. Historian Robert H. Ferrell of Indiana University Bloomington reminds readers that what was once a staple celebration represented by World War I era artifacts and culture was translated into a holiday that could span generations. In his work, "Oatmeal and Coffee: Memoirs of a Hoosier Soldier in World War I," Ferrell outlines those Great War Soldiers were a very different breed than their World War II counterparts. Doughboys, as World War I Soldiers were called, were not the same as the Yanks or G.I.s of World War II.

ARMISTICE DAY

An armistice, or temporary cease fire, between the Allied Nations and Germany stopped the fighting of World War I on November 11, 1918. Known at the time as the Great War, the end of combat became effective on the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. The official end of the war would not come for another seven months, on June 28, 1919, when the Treaty of Versailles was signed. A publication from 1918, America Magazine, marked the day as one of triumph and joy, even amongst those suffering from losses. A passage from this magazine read: "There would be time and enough in the future to grieve for the ravages was had wrought in their own lives, but on the day of the armistice all gave way to universal rejoicing, because mankind was once more free."

President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed the first "Armistice Day" on Nov. 11, 1919, to show solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service. Wilson declared "To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service." The original concept for the celebration was for the suspension of business for a two minute period beginning at 11 a.m., with the day also marked by parades and public meetings.

In 1920, France and the United Kingdom each held ceremonies honoring their unknown dead from the war. An "unknown soldier" of the Great War was buried in each nation's highest place of honor: in England, Westminster Abbey; in France, the Arc de Triomphe. This holiday is now known as Remembrance Day in Canada, the United Kingdom, France, and Belgium, and commemorates all who served.

In 1921, an unknown American Soldier was interred at Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington, Va. Armistice Day officially received its name in America in 1926 through a Congressional Resolution (44 Stat. 1982). This proclamation read: "It is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations."

Sources: Veterans Affairs Canada, Military.com, History.com, Smithsonian, Pritzker Military, Army.mil



2015 "In Flanders Fields" Poetry Event


What we would now like to do is open this thread for both veterans and their families, from all countries, to post any personal accounts and stories of previous wars passed through the generations for the CC community to read and appreciate what our veterans and their families have done for us through the years.

[MARCVS ANNIHILVS]

My grandma was born in 1920, a couple of years after WWI. Her name is Clemency. It always struck me as a quirky old-fashioned name without much meaning. Until I thought about it. It really is a big thing what someone names their child.

It took me until my 40s to realise that it was my great-grandmother's hope that our humanity would not be forgotten in the aftermath of that tragic war, that as long as anyone called my grandma by her name, people would be reminded to temper any thought they had of vengeance against wartime foes. I think that her intention was give people a sombre reminder of their grief to recall at times of future decisions whether or not to support war-mongering politicians.

I never knew my great-grandmother, but that simple choice she made tells so much about the intensity of feeling after WWI, after any war. It reminds me we should not only remember the fallen, but also keep in mind that after any such a conflagration, remorse is intense on all sides, and we should therefore avoid wars at all costs. In particular, because we can usually avoid war at the mere cost of putting aside a bit of disingenuous pride, whether religious or secular, which after all is just perception and not real.

My grandma's name reminds me, in a roundabout fashion, that war (at all levels, from international conflagration to street violence to family arguments) is mostly based merely on perceptions and ego. Politicians massage their own egos when advocating war. At the other side of any war we will inevitably feel deep remorse over the loss of things that are real: family, joy, comfort, peace. Out.

[Dukasaur]

My grandma was born in 1920, a couple of years after WWI. Her name is Clemency. It always struck me as a quirky old-fashioned name without much meaning. Until I thought about it. It really is a big thing what someone names their child.

It took me until my 40s to realise that it was my great-grandmother's hope that our humanity would not be forgotten in the aftermath of that tragic war, that as long as anyone called my grandma by her name, people would be reminded to temper any thought they had of vengeance against wartime foes. I think that her intention was give people a sombre reminder of their grief to recall at times of future decisions whether or not to support war-mongering politicians.

I never knew my great-grandmother, but that simple choice she made tells so much about the intensity of feeling after WWI, after any war. It reminds me we should not only remember the fallen, but also keep in mind that after any such a conflagration, remorse is intense on all sides, and we should therefore avoid wars at all costs. In particular, because we can usually avoid war at the mere cost of putting aside a bit of disingenuous pride, whether religious or secular, which after all is just perception and not real.

My grandma's name reminds me, in a roundabout fashion, that war (at all levels, from international conflagration to street violence to family arguments) is mostly based merely on perceptions and ego. Politicians massage their own egos when advocating war. At the other side of any war we will inevitably feel deep remorse over the loss of things that are real: family, joy, comfort, peace. Out.

Beautifully said!

[zeus111]

my father fought in korea ..he was army rcr 149 ..at the age of 15 he stole his brothers identification and went into hell ..he climbed the ranks and went for 2 tours ..as a kid he new the importance of freedom he left a boy came home a man ! he since past on but 11 11 i pay tribute to his brave and selfless behavior much love and respect pops miss ya greatly!!

[DirtyDishSoap]

I'll share some stories. Didn't see the thread.

I'll start it off with good old poopy pants/being sick. For the record, if anyone is reading this and is in the service, stay away from exotic foods from the DFAC or things like Bell Peppers.

My first tour, I landed in Kuwait en route to Iraq and going to FOB Warhorse, we got stuck there for a few days if not longer, cant quite recall, but I ate something at the DFAC that didn't agree with me at all. Needless to say, the following day, I had the runs like nobodies business, and to make matters worse, we had to board a Chinook to take us over to the FOB. God knows this felt like an eternity, but I was holding in this nuclear blast of a shit in a cramped space with a bunch of other dudes. I was pale, sweating, miserable, and everyone near me were doing what they could to get the hell away from me in the event that I blow up. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to hold it in until we landed at the FOB, but my wonderful team leader at that time decided to gut punch me. I pretty much ruined a good pair of pants and underwear. Wonderful.

My second tour in Afghanistan wasn't much better in terms of food. I get back from R&R and I had, you guessed it, the bell peppers. Luckily, it didn't hit me until I got back to the COP, but it didn't make it any less miserable. Soon as I get back on base, I started puking and shitting everywhere, and being with an all gun-ho company, it became a "Suck it up buttercup, go pull tower guard for the next 12 hours". About every 5 minutes I'm running down the tower steps just to have an anal evacuation. The following morning wasn't much better, because good old drill ceremony was prevalent with the officers of then (And today). I was butt hurt enough we're doing a stupid ceremony in a middle of a warzone, but while I'm peeing out of my butthole? REALLY?! Anyways, I was one of the recipients to earn my CIB that day, and I had to attend no matter what, at least according to my platoon sergeant. We show up, do the spiel, and I'm placed last in the line to receive my award, which is fine and dandy for what comes next. Soon as it's my turn, my squad leader runs up all chirpy and cheery because he knew I had the runs, and as he pins me, gut punches me, and I shit all over myself, fucking again. Well, this time, I went to the porta shitter, took off my clothes, threw them away, walked back to the tent butt naked for all to see. I hope they enjoyed the view.

Another short story I like to share is that I sat on an IED and my stupid ass is still alive.
This is my 2nd tour, and I want to say it was midway of it being done. Normally, our patrols were conducted in a file, with the lead man operating a Minehound (Metal Detector/Depth Sensor). Normally, I would be the operating the Minehound, but they switched me out so I could be a SAW gunner instead, and I'm perfectly okay with that. Anyways, we land about 1,000 meters outside of a place called (probably butchered the spelling) Haji-Roof, and we were there to look for labs. Well, the guy that was operating the Minehound turned out to be an idiot, and didn't bother turning on the thing because quote "it doesn't work". He clears this alleyway out, and I take a position there to cover the rear as the rest of my platoon goes to clear a nearby Mosque. About a half hour to an hour goes by, and my platoon sergeant comes up to me and says "What's that under you, Russell?" "Uhhhhhhhhhh...Oh...Wires...Shit". Thankfully, we had an EOD attachment with us, they came up, dug out a 3 gallon jug and a pressure plate wrapped in ceramic, thin wood and a f*ck ton of ball bearings. The damn thing was live, but I had no idea why it didn't go off, nor did I really feel the need to ask. My only regret is that I didn't take that thing with me as a souvenir. A turn for the morbid for this story, because this happens about a couple hours later, but we clear out another compound, and secure it. Our Minehound guy (same dude) turned on this stupid thing and actually cleared the area this time. He marked this random doorway just off the road with a red chem light, indicating a possible IED placement. This ANA guy (Afghani National Army) decided to test his luck by spitting on the chem light, and then jumping on it. Well, the IED so happen to be close enough to the small mud hut that a majority of us were in, myself included, and all of us got our heads rocked by the explosion. I feel no sympathy for this ass hat whatsoever, but when we got to him, he was torn in half, and a good portion of him looked like he went through a waffle maker. He kicked the bucket after we got him evaced out, but again, that's his own damn fault.

A shorty but a goody. Different platoon, same company, but I know the guy. They were out in a place called Cornerbrook and it was raining non-stop, everywhere there was mud, and it was hard to just stay dry, especially on Cornerbrook which only was just recently built, so the only cover you get was a poncho liner, a sleeping bag, or if you're lucky, an MRAP or Stryker. Anyways, my buddy decided this would be a great time to go skinny dipping in the middle of the day, because at the center of Cornerbrook was this massive mud hole. This guy gets butt naked, jumps in there, and just starts lathering mud all over himself. Makes matters worse, is that we have an overhead sky cam attached to this massive balloon. Our company commander saw it and it was just bad news bears for him afterwards. Still, it was pretty funny hearing about some fat kid bathing in mud overseas.

This has to do with Cornerbrooks conception. Maybe about a month into my tour, battalion good idea fairies decided it'd be smart to have another COP in between the FOB they were stationed at, and our own COP which turned out to be not too far away to begin with, so defeated it's purpose. But the idea was that we had to picket pound C-Wire and Razor Wire for x-amount of miles on this road that would interconnect where Cornerbrook would soon be. So aside from this being the stupidest fucking mission an infantryman has ever done, we were under fire for the majority of trying to get these stupid pickets in. It took us a little over a week. How do I know it was stupid to begin with? Because sand storms exist and it picks up, you guessed it, sand. In only a fucking day was all of our work literally blown over. Another part was a buddy of mine during this mission went to go take a shit, and as soon as he climbed on top of the truck carrying all of this waste, he starts getting shot at. For whatever reason, the great idea of sticking his hand above the armored plate to get a purple heart crossed his mine, and so he did it, waving his stupid ass hand for a few minutes before giving up. Genius. Lol.

Last one. This was a little bit after my shitting escapade. We get a mission briefing that our battalion was tasked to clear this village out in the middle of nowhere. The CIA themselves reported that, and I quote, the number of Taliban present would be between one to one hundred. Great intel. Course hearing this news, and I can't blame command for this course of action, we pack up for World War 3. All of our ruck sacks were filled to the brim with ammo, with little food, no sleeping bags, no hygiene kits, nothing. Just ammo, food and water. We needed to take more though, so we came up with this idea to fill this skedko with a few AT-4's, a f*ck ton more ammo, a Gustav, and whatever else we thought we needed. The damn thing ended up being so heavy, that it took 3 of us just to pull the dumb fucking thing. So mission day comes, we all board the Chinook and set out to make America great again. Soon as we land...No contact, no fire...Nothing. We dragged our sorry carcasses through this village for the majority of the day with nothing happening, and we finally get holed up in this massive type castle that was on this hill looking over the village. It would have been pretty cool staying there, had it not been for the lack of sleeping bags or even a poncho liner in the middle of fucking winter. Battalion wasn't satisfied however, surely the CIA couldn't have fucked up the intel with 1-100 Taliban, so we ended up staying there for 3 more days. To make matters worse, and to know your tax dollars are working hard, our command sergeant major saw that a lot of us had beards and flipped his shit. So he ordered a supply drop of nothing but razors and shaving cream so we could shave and look pretty. So no Taliban, no sleeping gear, a supply drop for razors and cream, and humping around an ungodly amount of weight and ammo, and one good shot will blow us to smithereens. Just...

Anyways, I got more stories, but those are the ones that come to me more vividly.

[Dukasaur]

Thank you all for your messages.

[Senguen]

I might post here a little bit too late, but it's never too late to remember those people who lived a beautiful life while serving us all. thanks for the nice words i've read here.

[Dukasaur]

I might post here a little bit too late, but it's never too late to remember those people who lived a beautiful life while serving us all. thanks for the nice words i've read here.

Agreed! Thanks for visiting and honouring memories of so many.