Memorial Day

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May 21, 2009 by esarsea

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4 thoughts on “Memorial Day

  1. Randy Spiker says:

    Memorial day should hold a special place in the hearts of ALL freedom loving Americans, for without the sacrifice of the many fallen heroes this country has offered, few, if any in the world would be enjoying the fruits of Democracy today.

    Viv and I will be attending the christening of the new statue they’ve erected in our neighborhood Korean memorial park celebrating the influence Nevadans had in that conflict.

    Thanks Stu and may your Son be safe.

  2. Da Goddess says:

    LD and I will be down at Ft. Rosecrans dressing graves as we do each year. We’ll then take time to visit “friends” we’ve made along the way. We’ll also walk around and just reflect.

    No barbeques or parties. That’s not what the weekend is about for us.

    I hope everyone is able to take a few moments to remember and to appreciate what Freedom and service is really all about.

  3. Jane says:

    “BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD”

    The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat
    The soldier’s last tattoo;
    No more on life’s parade shall meet
    That brave and fallen few.
    On Fame’s eternal camping-ground
    Their silent tents are spread,
    And Glory guards, with solemn round,
    The bivouac of the dead.

    No rumor of the foe’s advance
    Now swells upon the wind;
    Nor troubled thought at midnight haunts
    Of loved ones left behind;
    No vision of the morrow’s strife
    The warrior’s dream alarms;
    No braying horn nor screaming fife
    At dawn shall call to arms.

    Their shriveled swords are red with rust,
    Their plumed heads are bowed,
    Their haughty banner, trailed in dust,
    Is now their martial shroud.
    And plenteous funeral tears have washed
    The red stains from each brow,
    And the proud forms, by battle gashed
    Are free from anguish now.

    The neighing troop, the flashing blade,
    The bugle’s stirring blast,
    The charge, the dreadful cannonade,
    The din and shout, are past;
    Nor war’s wild note nor glory’s peal
    Shall thrill with fierce delight
    Those breasts that nevermore may feel
    The rapture of the fight.

    Like the fierce northern hurricane
    That sweeps the great plateau,
    Flushed with the triumph yet to gain,
    Came down the serried foe,
    Who heard the thunder of the fray
    Break o’er the field beneath,
    Knew well the watchword of that day
    Was “Victory or death!”

    Long had the doubtful conflict raged
    O’er all that stricken plain,
    For never fiercer fight had waged
    The vengeful blood of Spain;
    And still the storm of battle blew,
    Still swelled the gory tide;
    Not long, our stout old chieftain knew,
    Such odds his strength could bide.

    Twas in that hour his stern command
    Called to a martyr’s grave
    The flower of his beloved land,
    The nation’s flag to save.
    By rivers of their father’s gore
    His first-born laurels grew,
    And well he deemed the sons would pour
    Their lives for glory too.

    For many a mother’s breath has swept
    O’er Angostura’s plain —
    And long the pitying sky has wept
    Above its moldered slain.
    The raven’s scream, or eagle’s flight,
    Or shepherd’s pensive lay,
    Alone awakes each sullen height
    That frowned o’er that dread fray.

    Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground
    Ye must not slumber there,
    Where stranger steps and tongues resound
    Along the heedless air.
    Your own proud land’s heroic soil
    Shall be your fitter grave;
    She claims from war his richest spoil —
    The ashes of her brave.

    Thus ‘neath their parent turf they rest,
    Far from the gory field,
    Borne to a Spartan mother’s breast
    On many a bloody shield;
    The sunshine of their native sky
    Smiles sadly on them here,
    And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
    The heroes sepulcher.

    Rest on embalmed and sainted dead!
    Dear as the blood ye gave;
    No impious footstep shall here tread
    The herbage of your grave;
    Nor shall your glory be forgot
    While fame her records keeps,
    Or Honor points the hallowed spot
    Where Valor proudly sleeps.

    Yon marble minstrel’s voiceless stone
    In deathless song shall tell,
    When many a vanquished ago has flown,
    The story how ye fell;
    Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter’s blight,
    Nor Time’s remorseless doom,
    Shall dim one ray of glory’s light
    That gilds your deathless tomb.

  4. rsr348 says:

    I ended up going back to my home town to visit my folks. My dad sort of complained about how it used to always be on May 30th, til they wanted to make it a Monday. Told them it would have been hard for me to make a trip down there without the 3-day weekend, so maybe it was a good change.

    Took my daughter to the parade and explained how there aren’t floats and candy and stuff, how it’s a day of respect, and she was cool with that. My dad was surprised at the large number of spectators. I said perhaps people are feeling more patriotic at war time. He thought a lot of them were probably parents of the band students who were marching. Either way, it was nice to see so many people there, sharing the day and showing their gratitude. And interesting to chat with my parents who were children during WWII. That generation won’t be with us much longer.

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