Thanks for serving

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----- Original Message -----

From: Robert Merkin

To: GeigerCounterEnthusiasts

Sent: 11/11/2008 1:21:18 PM

Subject: [GeigerCounterEnthusiasts] re: Veterans Day / Remembrance Day / Armistice Day

A very fine Veterans Day and, for those folks who served as Allies in the 20th and 21st Century's wars, a very fine Remembrance Day. bcer_eh calls it Armistice Day, and that's why it happens on 11.11 ... the 1918 Armistice on the European Western Front was signed on 11 November at 5 a.m. and both sides agreed to silence the guns 6 hours later -- on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

I had a trivial visit to the Emergency Room a couple of months ago. I was a little woozy while the clerk interrogated me, and when she asked if I was a veteran, I grunted yes. Then she said, "Thank you for your service."

I burst into a loud spasm of laughter.

When I got a grip I apologized and explained that, in 37 years, that was the first time anybody'd ever said that to me, and I was a little unprepared for it.

My war was not known for effusive national gratitude to its vets.

These modern public expressions of Thanks -- well, I acknowledge them as appropriate and sincere and certainly well-meaning.

But they're also Free and Easy. As, during these two ferocious US wars, they become our new national etiquette, they obligate my non-vet neighbors to do nothing.

I note that one candidate for US president just voted against a beefed-up educationally generous GI bill, apparently for what he felt were bona fide national security reasons. Scholarships for vets that were too generous, he explained, worked against our current need for troop strength retention -- soldiers would be tempted to become civilians again to go back to school.

Oddly enough, the candidate who was (very loudly) the war veteran and hero voted against the vets' assistance bill.

So if I want something from my civilian neighbors more than a Thank-You Card on Veterans Day, what do I want?

Also today received an e-mail announcing that my town's winter homeless shelter has reopened. My town has a small VA/DVA hospital, which was founded at the end of World War II specifically to treat combat-related neurological and psychiatric disorders.

So most nights at the church-alliance shelter, it's indistinguishable from an Old Vets Reunion. Vietnam vets were the cliche when we first opened our doors. But then Desert Storm guys started wandering in, every bit as shell-shocked and shaken as the Vietnam-era guys.

And this winter, to add to the tradition ...

So if you feel like Santa Claus and I'm sitting in your lap, here's what I'd like for Christmas beyond a patriotic Thank-You.

1. Stop the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan as soon as possible, and bring my neighbors' sons and daughters in uniform home safe and speedily.

2. If you perceive your governments, federal, state, local, are doing less than they possibly could to heal our troops and military veterans, to provide them the finest medical care, and to successfully re-integrate them into our communities, pick up the phone, write e-mails, scream bloody murder, use harsh language -- whatever works. Make a loud jerk of yourself, just like I'm doing here.

3. Volunteer at my homeless shelter. Cook some food and break bread with our guests over supper.

I promise there'll be lots of vets there. And I promise your being there and chatting with them will mean a great deal to them.

Where is it? Well, do the best you can to find it. If you end up volunteering at the wrong homeless shelter, it's all good, as the teens say.

Without these necessary things, "Thank You For Serving" is a bit hollow, like the Welcome Home Military Band and Parade, it's the Chump Change of national gratitude -- cheap and temporary.

Throughout history, after all wars, vets are easy to forget and ignore. In "Tommy," Kipling notes that we treat soldiers and vets like dirt until there's a national crisis that scares everybody to death -- and requires a new batch of soldiers. We tend to love vets and soldiers and marines and sailors and airmen/airwomen most when we're scared out of our wits.

I'd dress up in my old uniform today, but I left it at my mom's apartment, and my nephews made a Halloween costume out of it. But everybody buy a poppy from a vet today.

And sincerely -- thanks for serving.

Bob

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Tommy

by Rudyard Kipling

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!