POPPY THREAD

Post by **Surlethe** » 2005-05-22 06:33pm

. . .

Stofsk · Post by **Stofsk** » 2005-05-28 04:24am

Rest in peace.

Oberleutnant · Post by **Oberleutnant** » 2005-05-29 02:18pm

wolveraptor · Post by **wolveraptor** » 2005-05-31 05:29pm

A day late, I know, but here's to Memorial Day: ...

Post by **Coyote** » 2005-06-17 09:12pm

PFC Carrie French: Idaho state's first female KIA.

RIP

***

Jay · Post by **Jay** » 2005-06-30 04:07pm

I do not know the three names that adorn the top of our forum, but I know that they fought and they died so that others might live. Hero's all.

....

MKSheppard · Post by **MKSheppard** » 2005-06-30 04:19pm

jasonicusuk wrote:I do not know the three names that adorn the top of our forum, but I know that they fought and they died so that others might live. Hero's all.

....

Were they people that Greg knew?

Ace Pace · Post by **Ace Pace** » 2005-06-30 04:22pm

Apprently yes.

...

Post by **The Yosemite Bear** » 2005-06-30 05:57pm

yes, folks in Greg's squad killed durring the first battle for Fuljiha (sp), but issurectionist explosive devices.

Noble Ire · Post by **Noble Ire** » 2005-08-08 04:13am

wolveraptor · Post by **wolveraptor** » 2005-08-10 02:47pm

Loch Lomond, written by an anonymous POW of the British awaiting execution. He writes about the beauty of the lake and mountains and how he'll never see his loved one again. It pretty much exemplifies the thoughts of a POW.

By yon bonnie banks, and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines bright, on Loch Lomond
Where me and my true love, were ever wont to gae,
On the bonnie bonnie banks, of Loch Lomond

Chorus
Oh ye'll tak' the high road An’ I'll tak' the low road
And I'll be in scotland afore ye
For me and my true love will never meet
Again on the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond

We'll meet where we parted, in yon shady glen
On the steep steep side, of Ben Lomond
Where in purple hue, the hie-lands we view
And the moon looks out, frae the gloamin’

Chorus

Still fair is the scene, but ah! how changed
Are the hopes that we fondly cherished
Like a wa-t'ry gleam, like a morning dream
On Cul-lo-dens field, they ha'e per-rished

Chorus

The wild flowers spring, and the wee birds sing
And in sun-shine the waters, are sleepin’
But the broken heart, a kens nae second spring
And re-sign'd we may be, tho' we're greetin’

Chorus

drachefly · Post by **drachefly** » 2005-08-11 04:06pm

Mrs Kendall · Post by **Mrs Kendall** » 2005-08-11 05:37pm

Qwerty 42 · Post by **Qwerty 42** » 2005-08-31 11:30pm

probably thred necromancy, but this letter always touched me.

Major Sullivan Ballou wrote:My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days -- perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.

Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure -- and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing -- perfectly willing -- to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.

But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows -- when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children -- is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?

I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death -- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.

I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles I have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night -- amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours -- always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

Sullivan

Major Ballou was killed a week later at the first battle of Bull Run.

Rest in peace, all servicemen and women who never returned home, and know that your sacrifice was not in vain, and will not be in vain as long as a single soul exists to say "Thank You."

Pezzoni · Post by **Pezzoni** » 2005-09-01 04:26pm

...

Fleet Admiral JD · Post by **Fleet Admiral JD** » 2005-09-01 04:53pm

To those who perished in the hell of Hurricane Katrina, and those who are suffering now because of her.

Post by **Surlethe** » 2005-09-01 05:17pm

Fleet Admiral JD wrote:To those who perished in the hell of Hurricane Katrina, and those who are suffering now because of her.

. . .

Anomie · Post by **Anomie** » 2005-09-13 06:57pm

Shakespear wrote:Let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of Kings

For those who didn't come home... (lay's rose on the tomb of the unknown soldier)

Akhlut · Post by **Akhlut** » 2005-10-03 07:46pm

First time I've seen this, so, my respects to all those who have died in war.

...

Vanas · Post by **Vanas** » 2005-10-04 03:39pm

I was thinking about this sort of thing today, so my respects to all those who have died in war. It's an English poem, but I think it will suffice.

---

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 not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
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.

Post by **Surlethe** » 2005-10-25 12:46pm

2000

. . .

Typhonis 1 · Post by **Typhonis 1** » 2005-10-27 07:55pm

Post by **The Yosemite Bear** » 2005-11-11 02:51am

reminder for 11-11 although I'll be asleep when it 11:00