Life during wartime
The Sanity Inspector
rights and interests of the nations can be preserved. But whensoever
hostile aggressions on these require a resort to war, we must meet our
duty and convince the world that we are just friends and brave
enemies.
--attrib Thomas Jefferson
--
bruce
The dignified don't even enter in the game.
-- The Jam
The Sanity Inspector
damage wasn't great. But in one perfume shop every bottle had been
exploded by the warhead's shock wave. The place reeked of Shalimar. A
mature, adult American with a perfume store would have been on his
cell phone screaming at his insurance agent. The Kuwaiti storeowner
was sitting in a chair sipping a little cup of coffee. I introduced
myself. The owner pointed cheerfully to the wet pile of broken glass.
"Special price!" he said.
-- P. J. O'Rourke, "The backside of war", _The Atlantic Monthly_,
December 1, 2003
Newscasters began mentioning the Laci Peterson murder case. Some
attributed the lapsing scrutiny of the war to the short attention span
of the American public. But many Americans have given their
all--indeed, could be said to have sacrificed their lives--doing their
best for people who now hate them. A nation that has teens in the
house can't be expected to focus on Iraq forever.
-- ibid
David C Kifer
>
> The night I returned from Safwan, a missile hit Souk Sharq. ... The
> damage wasn't great. But in one perfume shop every bottle had been
> exploded by the warhead's shock wave. The place reeked of Shalimar. A
> mature, adult American with a perfume store would have been on his
> cell phone screaming at his insurance agent. The Kuwaiti storeowner
> was sitting in a chair sipping a little cup of coffee. I introduced
> myself. The owner pointed cheerfully to the wet pile of broken glass.
> "Special price!" he said.
> -- P. J. O'Rourke, "The backside of war", _The Atlantic Monthly_,
> December 1, 2003
Mohammed Atta, the hijacker believed to be
the mastermind of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist
attacks, was trained in Baghdad by Palestinian
terrorist Abu Nidal, claims Iraq's coalition
government.
The leaders says a handwritten secret memo to
Saddam Hussein gives details of a visit by Atta
to the Iraqi capital in the summer of 2001, just
weeks before the attacks, reports the London
Telegraph.
"We are uncovering evidence all the time of
Saddam's involvement with al-Qaida," said Dr
Ayad Allawi, a member of Iraq's ruling
seven-man presidential committee, according
to the London paper.
"But this is the most compelling piece of
evidence that we have found so far," he said. "It
shows that not only did Saddam have contacts
with al-Qaida, he had contact with those
responsible for the September 11 attacks."
--Memo: 9-11 chief trained by Saddam
http://www.wnd.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=36124
--
Dave
"Tam multi libri, tam breve tempus!"
(Et brevis pecunia.) [Et breve spatium.]
The Chinese Fire Marshal
> Mohammed Atta, the hijacker believed to be
> the mastermind of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist
> attacks, was trained in Baghdad by Palestinian
> terrorist Abu Nidal, claims Iraq's coalition
> government.
> The leaders says a handwritten secret memo to
> Saddam Hussein gives details of a visit by Atta
> to the Iraqi capital in the summer of 2001, just
> weeks before the attacks, reports the London
> Telegraph.
> "We are uncovering evidence all the time of
> Saddam's involvement with al-Qaida," said Dr
> Ayad Allawi, a member of Iraq's ruling
> seven-man presidential committee, according
> to the London paper.
> "But this is the most compelling piece of
> evidence that we have found so far," he said. "It
> shows that not only did Saddam have contacts
> with al-Qaida, he had contact with those
> responsible for the September 11 attacks."
> --Memo: 9-11 chief trained by Saddam
> http://www.wnd.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=36124
"The problem with this, say U.S. law enforcement officials, is that
the FBI has compiled a highly detailed time line for Atta's movements
throughout the spring and summer of 2001 based on a mountain of
documentary evidence, including airline records, ATM withdrawals and
hotel receipts. Those records show Atta crisscrossing the United
States during this period -- making only one overseas trip, an 11-day
visit to Spain that didn't begin until six days after the date of the
Iraqi memo."
http://www.salon.com/opinion/conason/2003/12/18/thursday/index.html
-- CFM
The Sanity Inspector
Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I came down the chimney with presents to give,
to see just who in this house did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stockings by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
and on the walls pictures, of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
a sobering thought came to my mind.
For this house so different, so dark and so dreary,
was the home of a soldier, I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in disorder,
not how I pictured a United States Soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I just read?
Curled up in a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I visited this night,
all owed their lives to those willing to fight.
Soon round the world the children would play,
and we would all celebrate a bright Christmas day.
We all enjoy FREEDOM each month of the year,
because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I could not help but wonder of the many alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
The very stark thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened, I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for FREEDOM, I don't ask for more.
My life is my God, my Country, my Corps."
The soldier rolled over and soon drifted to sleep,
humbled and grateful I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
our bodies both shivered from the bitter cold chill.
I would not leave on this cold Holy night,
this guardian of Honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, and his voice soft and pure,
whispered "Carry on Santa, Christmas Day, all secure."
-- ???[sorry!]
David C Kifer
This has to be attributed "Unknown.
However...
According to snopes.com, the original [from which this has mutated
more than a little bit] came about this way:
...the true author [is] James M. Schmidt, who was a Lance Corporal
stationed in Washington, D.C., when he wrote the poem back in 1986.
As Corporal Schmidt told us in December 2002:
The true story is that while a Lance Corporal serving as Battalion
Counter Sniper at the Marine Barracks 8th & I, Washington, DC, under
Commandant P.X. Kelly and Battalion Commander D.J. Myers [in 1986],
I wrote this poem to hang on the door of the Gym in the BEQ. When
Colonel Myers came upon it, he read it and immediately had copies sent
to each department at the Barracks and promptly dismissed the entire
Battalion early for Christmas leave. The poem was placed that day in
the Marine Corps Gazette, distributed worldwide and later submitted to
Leatherneck Magazine.
-- Snopes.com
http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/soldier.asp
The original, and to my mind [as a Marine, of course], the better version is:
Merry Christmas, My Friend
Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.
I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live
As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.
With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I'd seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.
I'd heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.
He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?
His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.
Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.
I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.
He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps."
With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night's chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.
I didn't want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said "Carry on, Santa, it's Christmas Day, all secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.
--James M. Schmidt, Lance Corporal, USMC, 1986
http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/soldier.asp
Thanks, Inspector, for giving me the opportunity to clear up this source
for the AQ audience, at least....
[p&e]
alohacyberian
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree, I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem.
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts,
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night"
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red white and blue... an American flag.
"I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home,
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat,
I can carry the weight of killing another
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother
who stand at the front against any and all,
to ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone.
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled
is payment enough, and with that we will trust.
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.
Friends, keep our military people in your prayers. They are risking their
lives to protect what we take for granted, and we are losing soldiers every
day. They won't be home with their families this Christmas. Pray God will
Bless Them, and keep them safe.
Merry Christmas
~ Author unknown to me, posted in hawaii.military by Dai...@hawaii.rr.com
<Dai...@hawaii.rr.com>
--
(-:alohacyberian:-) At my website there are 3000 live cameras or
visit NASA, play games, read jokes, send greeting cards & connect
to CNN news, NBA, the White House, Academy Awards or learn all
about Hawaii, Israel and more: http://keith.martin.home.att.net/
David C Kifer
>
> Duty
[snip]
> "So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright
> Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
>
> "But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
> "Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
>
> It seems all too little for all that you've done,
> For being away from your wife and your son."
>
> Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
> "Just tell us you love us, and never forget
>
> To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone.
> To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
>
> For when we come home, either standing or dead,
> To know you remember we fought and we bled
> is payment enough, and with that we will trust.
> That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.
>
> Friends, keep our military people in your prayers. They are risking their
> lives to protect what we take for granted, and we are losing soldiers every
> day. They won't be home with their families this Christmas. Pray God will
> Bless Them, and keep them safe.
>
> Merry Christmas
> ~ Author unknown to me, posted in hawaii.military by Dai...@hawaii.rr.com
> <Dai...@hawaii.rr.com>
Well written. Thank you, alohacyberian. Worth keeping...
Authorship is claimed by one Mike Marks on December 7, 2000. See:
http://www.warpig.com/forums/rec/messages/1071799563032.shtml
As proof, he also included one just written:
The Sands of Christmas
I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh,
and looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.
The laundry wasn’t finished and the car I had to fix,
My stocks were down another point, the Dolphins lost by six.
And so with only minutes till my son got home from school
I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,
and so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.
I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,
No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.
And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,
eight hummers ran a column right behind an M1A.
A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens,
Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.
They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight,
their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.
Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,
To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.
There wasn’t much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease,
They had no Christmas turkey, just a pack of MREs.
They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see,
They didn't need an ornament-- they lacked a Christmas Tree.
They didn’t have a present even though it was tradition,
the only boxes I could see were labled “ammunition.”
I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,
He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.
I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near
and kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.
There’s nothing wrong my little son, for safe we sleep tonight,
our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,
to worry on the things in life that mean nothing at all,
instead of wondering if we will be the next to fall.
He looked at me as children do and said its always right,
to thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write.
And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,
to thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote,
God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home.
Remember that we love you so, and that you’re not alone.
The gift you give you share with all, a present every day,
You give the gift of liberty and that we can’t repay.
--Michael Marks, December 2003, mark...@patriot.net
[same website]
alohacyberian
Good one, thanks! KM
OBQ:
"Wicked men obey from fear, good men, from love."
~ Aristotle
The Sanity Inspector
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
Tonight he noticed how the women's eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why don't they come
And put him into bed? Why don't they come?
-- Wilfred Owen, "Disabled"
SteveMR200
(The Sanity Inspector) wrote:
>Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
>And do what things the rules consider wise,
>And take whatever pity they may dole.
>Tonight he noticed how the women's eyes
>Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
>How cold and late it is! Why don't they come
>And put him into bed? Why don't they come?
>-- Wilfred Owen, "Disabled"
You've painted up your lips and rolled and curled your tinted hair,
Ruby, are you contemplating going out somewhere?
The shadows on the wall tell me the sun is going down,
Oh Ruby, don't take your love to town.
It wasn't me that started that old crazy Asian war,
But I was proud to go and do my patriotic chore.
And yes, it's true that I'm not the man I used to be,
Oh Ruby, I still need some company.
--Kenny Rogers and The First Edition
_Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town_ [1969] (song)
--
Steve