This ain't Hell, but you can see it from here

Author: Wesley Wilson AKA Enigma4you

  • A Sea Story…Kinda

    From time to time I go back and read things I have written.   Most of what I write, including the things you guys never see is based in truth.  I shoved a mean ass cat in a mailbox when I was about 8 years old.  The mailman opened the mailbox and the cat launched into the jeep with him.  Now I am a huge advocate for animal warfare, but of all the cats I have ever met, that one deserved to be shoved in a mailbox.  I wrote a long story about that some years ago.  I can see the humor in it. I wrote about church pot luck dinners. I used to attend those as a child.  I still find it amusing on what a child hears while trying to get at the desert table. Kids pick up on allot of things adults think they don’t hear or wont understand.

    I write because I like it.  It allows me to organize my thoughts. I hope those that read what I write get something from it, even if its just a laugh. Tonight I found something I started years ago, I never finished it because the topic was to difficult for me to continue at that time.  reading others comments on this blog has given me what I needed to re-tell a story I have only shared in parts with one other person.

    I was in the Navy Stationed on the USS Coral Sea CV-43. We were on Med Cruise 87-88.  On January 31 1988 we were in a real bad storm.  The ship was rocking and rolling. Green water was breaking over the bow and I was scared shitless. I had been in storms but never anything that bad. We were getting the crap beat out of us. I can only imagine what it was like on the small boys.  I remember a hatch leaking on the main deck and it was like a water fall. It seemed like every few minutes the flying squad was being called away for something.

    I was TAD from E Division to the MAA force.  My partner and I along with 4 other teams patrolled the ship while at sea or in port. We dealt with security issues, long lines and general bullshit that goes along with having 0ver 5000 people shoved together. Most of the stuff we did dealt with minor theft and crowd control, but we did respond with the Flying Squad to everything from broken pipes to personnel casualties and main space fires. Very often we got there first.  I spent more time in an OBA (Oxygen Breathing Apparatus) Than I care to think about.   On a side note the Navy used that system for years, they now use Air Paks like the Fire Dept uses. I never understood what a chemical oxygen generator, that was worn on the chest and got hot as hell when it was working plus had the added habit of blowing up if it came in contact with salt water was ever a good idea on a ship.

    Back to the Storm. Word had been passed that no work was to be done on the weather decks.  It was one of the few times I remember the deck edge elevator doors being shut.   There had been a constant banging on the port side of the ship from late morning on.  It was loud and annoying. I guess it annoyed one of the Junior Officers so bad that he ordered a 2 man crew out to secure the piece of equipment. A personnel casuistry was called away very close to where my partner and I were at the time and we got to it first. It was the guys that had been sent onto the sponson to secure the equipment.   The equipment was a big  thing  that was used for underway replenishment.  It is what the cables the held the fuel hoses attached to.  As the guys were trying to secure it the ship took a roll and crushed one of them.

    I put on a Kapok and headed out, My partner stayed at the door, it could not have been more than a minute before the Flying Squad got there but it seemed like a lifetime. in many ways it was.  When I got to the guy he was alive, when I left he was dead.  The medical guys did everything possible to save him. had we been in the best hospital in the world with the best surgeons they could not have done more than the HM on the flying squad did, and the doctors that soon arrived.

    It took a couple of days to fly his body off. The milk locker was cleaned out and he was kept in there until a plane could get him home.  One of the odd things about a carrier is the amount of space. The hanger bays are huge,  large odd shaped items from every dept are stored there. Transport coffins qualify as large odd shaped items.  I dont know how many of you have ever seen one. they are about 7 feet long 2 feet wide and about 2 feet deep. they look like something a band would use to move large electronics. They are made of aluminum and have handles like a foot locker down each side.  They will not fit into a milk locker.

    The door of the locker was sealed after his body was placed in it.  A guard was placed outside the door.   This milk locker was right next to the mess deck. The entire time his body was there no one made a sound. Silence and Respect.  When his body was flown off the ship the entire crew watched the coffin being loaded onto the plane.  When the weather cleared we has what was the first of what turned out to be two memorial services for lost shipmates that cruise. I later learned that it took ten days for his body to get home.

    We made a port call soon after. I saw the HM that was on the Flying Squad on liberty. He was as drunk as I have ever seen any man. He saw me and said it should not have happened. I have not ever been a heavy drinker. I can count the number of times I have been drunk on my fingers. I got plastered that night.

    In the years that have passed I have relived those minutes in my dreams, at first it was all the time, as time has passed it has become less frequent.  Now it is only once or twice a year. I rarely drink milk. I used to all the time. I cannot stand loud repetitive noises.  I have been close to his grave many times. I cannot bring myself to visit it.

    I tell this for a reason. I do not suffer from PTSD.  I have other dreams that involve some aspect of my service that I look forward to.  My life, other than a some lost sleep and an aversion to milk has not been affected.  What I have from this is a small understanding of what it must be like to really have PTSD.  I know fine men who have closed off their lives  to almost everything because of PTSD.  When i read that a politician is using PTSD as an excuse for cheating it really pisses me off.  When the media talks about it like its something you catch like one would a cold it drives me up a wall. When a see a 100 percent combat disabled veteran brag about his visit to the VA and  use it as an excuse for extreme and irrational behavior it takes every fiber of my being not to respond in kind.

    PTSD has been something I have thought allot about lately. It seems that in the last few months it has become more and more of a topic and justification for every possible action.   The only solution I can see is to educate the public on what PTSD really is. Maybe then the media will call bullshit on it as an excuse.  When Brigadier Generals/Congressmen  are allowed to get away with this kind of bullshit it makes me loose faith in the oath I took a long time ago.

    A lie no matter who tells it is still a lie. We as Veterans have an obligation to hold our own to a higher standard. Some may see that as harsh. I see it as keeping the Faith.

  • Real Warriors and PTSD

    Post by PTSD Project.

    Chances are a child in the United States under the age of 17 does not remember our military never being at war. They do not know what it’s like to meet a loved one at the gate of an airport. Yellow ribbons are common place. Troops are always deploying or coming home. New members of our military only know terrorist as a real and valid threat. The World Trade Center are not two majestic towers but a rubble filled hole with an American flag flying from the ruins. They join knowing that they will be called upon to contribute to the war effort, they join know that the military is not the easy way, but they still join.

    The nation is full of monuments that go back to the revolution, the name are the same on them all, change the name of the conflict and they could serve as a monument to any point in our history. The names of the fallen, we use words like fallen so we don’t have to think about them as young men and women in the prime of life. The fallen of our nation are a faceless mass that we idolize and turn into heroes. We do our best to not think about them as young men with names and families.

    We talk about those that survive the horror of war. We talk about the help they earned but fail in many cases to receive. We hold up to public ridicule those that fake or embellish their service so that history will have a true reflection of our warrior’s stories. But we rarely hear the stories of the real warriors. Those young men and women who Joined in a time of war and gave it their all to make it home and succeeded.

    I can’t imagine what it’s like to have to fight for your life against an enemy who you have no personal grudge against, what it’s like to take the life of another human being. We spend our whole lives with the knowledge that to kill another is wrong, but we train young men and women to ignore that basic knowledge, to go against the grain of our very evolution. We get them back home and ignore the conflict of the soul they must feel. We expect the warrior to be the boy again.

    I am not antiwar. I believe long and lasting peace can come from it. I am not anti-military. Those young men and women are needed and earn the respect that they get. They also earned the support that is lacking. I don’t want to see another generation of young men turn into old men who can’t talk about what they saw, what they felt. We sent them to war, we need to deal with its aftermath. They are our Warriors. Their names are the same as yours and mine.

    What used to be called shell shock or battle fatigue has the name PTS or PTSD now. Returning service members see counselors and are encouraged to talk about how they feel. More often than not they bullshit their way past the counselors and try to deal with it on their own. They feel that to say anything shows a weakness. The truth is no man can deal with the constant threat of not only their own possible death or injury but that also to everyone around them without it having some effect.

    The media doesn’t help this situation with the never ending reports of this person or that person suffering from PTSD committing some horrible act. What we now have is a society where a diagnosis of PTSD is treated very much like being diagnosed with anything from an STD to mentally incompetent.

    A few days ago I wrote about a young man who did two tours in Afghanistan. I touched on his problems but did not really elaborate. I have permission to talk more about them and will do my best to tell those parts of his story. He had nightmares and bad dreams almost every night after his first tour. He did the mandatory counseling but realized he needed more so he sought private help as well. The effort to balance his philological needs with a desire to stay in the Army were very difficult. Some of his battle buddies did not fare so well upon returning home. A few turned to alcohol, many started having relationship problems and still more had disciplinary problems with the Army.

    He spoke about the death of a friend. He has guard duty and was bullshitting with a friend who was going on patrol outside the wire. As they walked out the Gate he made a flippant comment about you guys have fun. 20 minutes later his friend took the full brunt of an IED and was killed instantly. Several others were wounded and he heard it all on the radio.

    He spoke about his Staff Sergeant getting a leg blown up by an IED. He also spoke about having to take lives. To be fair and honest he only spoke in detail about the first time he killed a man, how after it was over he looked at him, seeing he had shot him in the face and thought about how his death would affect his family, he wondered if there was a wife or kids. We know there was more than one confirmed time. I have not asked a number.

    While deployed he did not have time to grieve or process all the thoughts and emotions. Only when he came home did those feeling start to come back. He avoids crowds now. Loud noises other than ones he makes are not a good thing. The dreams are less frequent but still happen. Those that care about him myself included are at a loss much of the time. We want to say or do something but have no idea how.

    PTSD not only affect the individual but the family and friends as well. There is a strange pride that goes along with knowing a real warrior. His family is proud of him, but he takes no pride in what he had to do. He will stay in the Army, he will use what he was learned in and out of battle to help his fellow soldiers come home. I can only think that the cost of being a real warrior is the loss of innocence. PTSD in many ways is the reminder of innocence lost.

    We as a nation send them to war, we need to makes sure that they are given the help and support that they earned. We have made great strides in helping wounded warriors recover as much physically as possible, an even greater effort is needed to help them mentally. We often demand accountability from the VA or the Military. We must demand that same level of accountability from ourselves to ensure that this generation of warriors does not suffer the same neglect as prior generations have. What it cost us now will be a drop in the bucket compared to the cost of doing nothing more than what is the current effort.

    A big thanks to the PTSD project for the video

  • The PTSD Made Me Do It

    Every day on this site and others  frauds, fakes and phonys are exposed for what they are.   We see them come here and try to explain away the lies and deceit as a misunderstanding or someone carrying out a vendetta and worst of all is when they stick by the lie.  I can honestly say that I take no joy in exposing these people but I know that it must be done.

    My reasons are varied.  But the thing I keep thinking about are the families of those that died for the idea of our Nation. I say “Idea” because that all it really is.  When enough of us stop believing in the idea of the Constitution,  The Bill of Rights, Blind Justice and so many of the other things that make the United States different from all other Nations then we as a Nations will cease to exist.  We will fade away into antiquity to be studied by future generations.

    For every lie that we read about, every Fake DD-214 we see there are 10,000 silent truths. Those truths that belong to the men and women who have served our nation faithfully and with dignity and who see no need to embellish or lie about what they did.  For every lie there are graves on almost every continent and in ever sea, the final resting places of real Valor.

    To so many of these fakes just being a part of something great is not enough. They lie to try to advance in politics, or to impress a girlfriend or employer. What really pisses me off now are all the claims of PTSD.  I am just waiting for the one who claims PTSD from the stress of keeping up the lie.  Its going to happen and whoever does it will get  a disability rating from the VA.  PTSD is a very real issue, every time one of these fakes hides behind it as an excuse for wrong actions it hurts the Veteran community and Serving military as a whole.

    We all have stress in our lives, Every person who ever served can recall instances of traumatic stress. Hell, in boot camp I forget one of those damned General Orders and had to go to marching party. (Work out ran by sadistic SEALs at RTC in San Diego) To this day it remains the hardest physical thing I have ever done. I didn’t make it the first time either, I had to do it again the next night. Stressful and Traumatic? Hell yes.  I lived in fear of ever having to do that again. Guess what?  I know my General Orders.

    So one of these fakes gets caught in a lie and blames it on PTSD,  Now if he or she is questioned or other wise ridiculed ,we are picking on someone with PTSD and are the bad guys. It pisses me off.  I am a Vet, I am also dealing with a minor disability. I have a bad knee. It limits what I can and can’t do and there are days that it hurts so bad that I don’t do much.  I often use a cane and brace.  This knee problem has Jack-shit to do with my time in the Navy. But I guess I could call myself a disabled vet like so many others.  Nope, I don’t think so. It’s not how people are supposed to act.

    News Flash Fakers, PTSD and disability are not magic shields you can hide behind.  Real men and women suffer from PTSD, to some it gets to a point that it completely controls their lives.  They live in a maze where that walls are made of debilitating fear.  Other’s relive an event over and over for years with no relief. It affects careers, relationships and every aspect of living, but the frauds and fakes play the PTSD card like its an excuse for all things done wrong. Sorry it won’t work like that. If you use PTSD as an excuse for bad actions then you will get called out.

    I’m pissed about this growing issue.

  • Where do we get such men?

    I spoke with Soldier who not long ago completed his second tour in Afghanistan.   I knew him as a teenager who was unsure what direction to take his life. I know him as a man for whom I have the greatest respect and admiration.  I have seen first hand the growth and the pain he and his family have endured by his decision to become a Soldier.

    Six years ago he was sitting in his Grandmother’s house watching a video on YouTube. The end of the video asked what have you done to support our troops? Within a few days he had been to see a recruiter within a few months he was in the Army.  His first day of Basic was also his 20th Birthday, He celebrated his 21st in Afghanistan.  He wears his CIB with pride, he can also wear a Purple Heart that he does not think he should have been awarded, you see he was in an explosion and spent a few days in the hospital and a few weeks recovering from TBI, but, in his opinion that’s not the same as getting shot or otherwise wounded in action. These are the facts verified and vetted. The facts don’t always tell the truth of events.

    We live in a nation that has been at war for 13 years.  The average recent high school graduate has no memory of our nation at peace.  Anyone joining the Army in the last 13 years knew they were going to war, but they still joined. They knew that there was a good chance that not only could they be asked to give their life for our way of life but to take lives as well, But they still joined.  We tied yellow ribbons around tress and gave parades for those going to war and for those returning, in time our nation at war became our way of life. The ribbons were not as prominent and the send offs and return were not as well covered by the news.  They still came and went.  The truth is we have grown weary of war. Most people don’t understand why we still have troops deployed.  Public opinion changes with the political wind, but the truth remains. Our sons and daughters are fighting a war.

    The Soldier with whom I spoke had nightmares when he came home,  he relived time and again the pain and suffering he witnessed as well as endured.  When he spoke to me about the injury and death he had seen, it was with barely restrained tears. The emotion in his voice transcended time and space, he could have been any Soldier speaking about any battle in history.  But he was not just any Soldier and it was not just any battle.  He was talking about the death and injury of his people, while they may not be brothers in flesh,  they are brothers in arms. I know that sound cliche but I cant think of any other term.

    He thinks that the people at home look down on him and his fellow Soldiers. He thinks that admitting he has bad dreams, or no longer likes loud noises or crowds makes him weak in some way. He told me a few stories about friends getting injured by IED’s.  He told me about how he coped with taking a life.  He told me about the reality of war. The whole time he talked I kept thinking to myself “how do we get such men?”

    He talked about “getting blown up” – his words.  He has survived 3 IED explosions in close proximity.  He was injured slightly “took some shrapnel, bot not bad enough to worry about”  the first time and suffered TBI the last time. The second he doesn’t talk much about.  While he was not physically injured he will carry the emotional injuries for a long time to come.   I still ask myself where do we get such men?

    I know his experiences are average for any Infantry Soldier with two deployments.  They are not what the average 25 year old American males has dealt with.  I know I spoke with a professional soldier. He believes in what his nation stands for.  He doesn’t see himself as anything but a soldier, he cannot grasp how anyone could see him as a Hero.  I cannot grasp how anyone could see him or anyone else that has answered  the call as anything but Hero’s.  I thank God we have such men.

  • What Patriotism means to me!

    I was recently invited to a 8th Grade awards ceremony. It was held in the hot, loud gymnasium of a middle school in North Carolina. The very first award that was given was for the best essay on What patriotism means to me. The winner received a check for 75 dollars and a pin. The contest was sponsored by the VFW.

    I admit that I was more than a little shocked by the award, it was the last thing I was expecting and my opinion of that school went up several notches. What I was more shocked by was the winner. She was a 14 year old girl that had only been told she won an award, not what type or that there was a cash prize. You see the essay was a School assignment given in October of last year, she did her work to the best of her ability and promptly forgot about it.

    After the awards were given I wanted to meet the young lady, I found her in the gym and spoke with her and her mother for a few minutes, I gave them my Email and asked if she would send me a copy of her essay. I received it late yesterday and when I read it I was moved. It gave me a hope for the future of our nation.

    Below is the essay written by Nikki, last name is withheld because this is the internet and she is 14.

    What Does Patriotism Mean To Me???
    What does patriotism mean to me? I thank patriotism is love of country and willingness to sacrifice for it. Patriotism is in all our hearts. We may not always know it until the call comes upon us. Patriotism may be a disease, but it is one no man should have any intention of curing. It brings out compassion, courage, work ethics, and bravery in us all. In the Second World War, there was a shortage of workers needed to fulfill the cry for war supplies. Millions of women stepped up to show their love and determination for their country. They worked to fulfill a call that men could not due to war. Patriotism filled their hearts and gave them the bravery to do what was then a man’s work. Patriotism is why America leads the world. Men and women have a deep will to work and succeed. This disease is why Neil Armstrong stepped onto uncertain ground. He wanted to show the world that his nation had accomplished something no other had. He took the leap onto the moon to prove his patriotism.
    Patriotism is the zealous love for one’s country. It’s like a disease that every man carries. It spreads from one soul to the next like an unstoppable wildfire. There is no cure for such a disease; for this is one of pure determination and pride.
    The definition of patriotism cannot be defined by a dictionary, but by people. From America’s Founding Fathers to today’s courageous men and women of our military serving in Afghanistan, this disease known as patriotism fills our hearts with the will to protect freedom. Patriotism is what gave George Washington the courage to fight the super power of the world and take charge of an unstable colony. Patriotism gave him courage.
    That is what Patriotism mean to me!!!!

    After Nikki sent me her winning essay she called me.  We spoke for several minutes and I learned more about her.   She is one of five children, She spent several years in foster care until she was adopted about a year and a half ago. According to her father she works hard and gives her best effort at everything.

    I asked her if there was anything she would like to add or say to those that read her essay. She asked me to add “Thank you to everyone that fights for our freedom”.

    Today is the 4th of July. I think if our founding fathers could read Nikki’s essay  they would say to one another what we did was worth it. 238 years later and the children of our Nation still get it.

     

    Well done Nikki, thanks for giving the older generation Hope.

  • Be a Man

    Man Card

    Today is my 46th Birthday, as I sit and have my morning Mt Dew and think about the events that brought me to this point in my life it occurred to me that I enjoy being a man. There is a certain amount of skill involves and over time a set of values and morality are developed.

    There are very few times in a man’s life that the playing field is equal. For me the navy was one of them. On my first day of boot camp, after the haircut and first clothing issue we were all in a room with a pile of clothes learning how to stencil our names on them in the Navy way. We took of our civvies and were standing there ib nothing but a new pair of tighty whiteys when our Company Commander called us to attention and introduced the Chaplin. I do not remember all of his words but one part of his talk has stayed with me. He said “ Take a look around you, everyone in this room is equal to everyone else. It does not matter how much money your parents have, It does not matter how you did it school, no one on this room has any advantage. What you make of your life and your Navy career is up to you”.

    To be a real man there are some absolute truths that must be embraced. I think the first is the fact that you are expendable. You have to be willing to put yourself in harm’s way to protect those around you. You must be willing to work at any job to provide for those who depend on you. There is nothing degrading about doing a hard day’s work. There are few things more satisfying than going to bed dog ass tired but knowing you did your best.

    Being a man also means that you have to learn to be humble. When you are wrong admit it. Ask for advice. You also have to be outspoken, correct an injustice. Stand up for what you believe in.
    There are some other skills that must be learned,

    Learn how to shave like your grandfather did. Get a shaving brush and safety razor and learn to use them. A disposable Razor is 3 bucks, canned shaving cream sucks. A safety razor blade cost 25 cents and you will get a better closer shave, plus its fun.

    Learn how to tie a tie in at least 3 different ways. Ditch the clip on, 4 in hand, Windsor and Double Windsor are the absolute minimum. Untie them when not in use. Bonus point for a bow tie.

    Learn how to wear clothes like a man. Men’s clothes are more expensive than women’s clothes. We wear them longer. Tuck in your shirt, wear a belt. Carry a handkerchief. It doesn’t matter if its Jeans and a T-shirt or a tuxedo. Get clothes that fit right and have them altered to you. It’s not expensive and its way more comfortable.

    Learn how to use tools. Not all of us a handy men but there is no excuse for not knowing how to change a tire or jump-start a car. Most home repairs are very simple with the right tools. Fixing a dripping faucet or replacing a light switch should not involve more than a trip to a hardware store.

    Use manners, hold open doors, say yes ma’am and no sir. It’s all about respect. If you give it, you will get it.

    Carry a pocket knife and wear a watch. I almost included it with tools but a watch and a knife will keep you out of trouble and get you out of a bind. There is a lot to be said for a good pocket knife.

    Learn how to write a letter. We live in an age on instant gratification. Writing a real letter and mailing it show the person receiving it that this is important. Write thank you notes, condolence letters or a well worded letter to someone you are at odds with goes a long way.

    Learn how to cook, that one is important. Guys cooking is important. You get to eat what you want and its fun. I love being able to go into a kitchen and fix something from the odds and ends. Plus cooking for your wife, kids girlfriend ect shows them that you are versatile.

    Boys are born, men are made. It has nothing to do with how tall or strong a man is. It has everything to so with character. The art of being a man is slipping away more and more with each generation. Terms like baby daddy are replacing words like Father and Dad. Punk kids think that being a man mean being a bully or how many different women they can get pregnant. Now we have kids who will spend all day inside playing video games, they have no clue how to be social or how to have fun that does not involve electricity. Boys learn from example and emulation. Don’t be afraid to show emotion. Get involved. Be a man.

  • 150 Years of Arlington

    On June 15th, 1864 the first burials were conducted on the grounds of Arlington House. The house and grounds had been seized by the Government from Robert E. Lee and his wife Mary Ann Curtis. The house had been built by George Washington Parke Curtis, Mary’s father and the grandson of George Washington as a tribute and Monument to the Father of our Country.

    In May of 1861 the Union Army seized the house, making it the Headquarters for the Army of the Potomac. In 1864 the Federal Government confiscated the Arlington House and grounds because Mary Curtis-Lee, the legal owner had not paid the taxes in person. Robert E. Lee never returned to the house, Mary Curtis Lee only returned once in 1873 shortly before her death. Neither ever publicly contested the confiscation the property. Their son sued the government after their death and won. The house and its 1,100 acres of land were purchased by Federal Government for the amount of $145,000.

    By 1864 the Military Cemeteries around Washington D.C. were full, new space was urgently needed, Quartermaster of the Army General Montgomery C. Meigs ordered burials to begin at Arlington House. Meigs had been a Junior Officer under Lee and considered him to be a traitor. He had stated the he intended to make the house uninhabitable. Part of that plan was ordering the first 63 individual burials and a mass concrete burial vault (The first monument) for those killed at Bull Run be placed in Mary Curtis’s Rose Garden.

    By the end of the Civil War over 15,000 Burials had taken place at Arlington. Today the number of people buried at Arlington is approaching 300,000. The vast majority of those who rest at Arlington are Military. They include Union and Confederate dead, as well the dead of our nation’s allies as well as enemies.

    When I visit Arlington it is not the grand monuments that capture my attention, it is the rows of identical white head stones, and to me they are a sacred forest of stone that demand silence and respect.

  • Memorial Day


    I can get a great deal on a car in the next few days.   Electronics are on sale.  Hotel’s are booked. It’s the beginning of summer!  All the big networks are wrapping up the TV viewing season.  Schools across the country are out or are counting the few remaining days.

    What I haven’t seen any place is the mention of a parade.  Not a word about honoring those that died in the service of our nation.   No words to the Gold Star families to let them know we have not forgotten.   It saddens me.

    Memorial Day was called Decoration Day as well as Remembrance Day,  no one really knows what town was the first to celebrate it,  several claim it as their own. What is known is that it came into being as an idea about the same time in several places in the late 1860’s.  The Nation was still mourning its dead on both sides of the Civil War.  In 1868 General  John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic  issued an order that May 30 would be Memorial Day, for the First time the graves of Union and Confederate dead in Arlington were decorated with flowers.

    By 1890 all of the Northern States were celebrating Memorial Day on May 30th.  Most southern states still has different days of remembrance.  The division between the North and South Remained until after WWI when Memorial Day expanded to Include WWI dead as well.

    Memorial Day remained May 30 until 1971,  When Congress passed the National Holiday act, moving Memorial Day to the last Monday in May, giving federal employees a 3 day weekend. Several Bill have been introduced to move Memorial Day back to May 30, all have died in committee.

    I share the opinion that Memorial Day started to lose its meaning when it was moved.  Celebrations and Parades that used to be common place in small towns across the Nation became less common.  Adding to the problem was the perceived mood of the Nation in the years following Vietnam.   The inevitable commercialism  of all holidays has led to a Generation of Americans that only know Memorial Day for sales, a long weekend and a trip to the lake.

    There are a few notable exceptions. Since the late 50’s on the Thursday before Memorial Day, the Soldiers of the Old Guard place small American flags at each of the gravestones at Arlington National Cemetery. They then patrol 24 hours a day during the weekend to ensure that each flag remains standing. In 1951, the Boy Scouts and Cub Scouts of St. Louis began placing flags on the 150,000 graves at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery as an annual Good Turn, a practice that continues to this day. More recently, beginning in 1998, on the Saturday before the observed day for Memorial Day, the Boys Scouts and Girl Scouts place a candle at each of approximately 15,300 grave sites of soldiers buried at Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park on Marye’s Heights. And in 2004, Washington D.C. held its first Memorial Day parade in over 60 years.

    Many feel that memorial day is for remembering all that have died.  It is my belief that this day needs to remain sacred, and reserved only for those that gave their life for the Nation.

    In Flanders Fields

    Lt Col. John McCrea MD.

    In Flanders fields the poppies blow
          Between the crosses, row on row,
       That mark our place; and in the sky
       The larks, still bravely singing, fly
    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the Dead. Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
       Loved and were loved, and now we lie
             In Flanders fields.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe:
    To you from failing hands we throw
       The torch; be yours to hold it high.
       If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
             In Flanders fields.

    In 1915, inspired by the poem  Moina Michael replied with her own poem:

    We cherish too, the Poppy red
    That grows on fields where valor led,
    It seems to signal to the skies
    That blood of heroes never dies.

    Whatever your plans this Memorial Day, please take a moment to remember those who gave everything so that we can know Liberty.

    ©2014 This Aint Hell