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Remember ~

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: military families

The media is declaring news of the 1000th dead Troop in Afghanistan.  They just love those milestones, don’t they?


A number.  Just a number.

Except that it’s not.

This number has a name.   Cpl. Jacob C. Leicht

This number came from Texas.

This number was a Marine, 1st Marine Expeditionary Force

This number was born on the 4th of july.

This number was 24 years old.

This number had two brothers.  Jonathan and Jesse

Some news reports will tell you this.  But it seems that even when the life stats of this number is mentioned, the number is more important than the person it signifies.  We didn’t hear anything about the number 999, did we?  Or the number 688.  Or the number 38.

Not a milestone number, so not newsworthy.

Well, it may just be a number to the media, but to us in the Military world, it’s a family member.


Commentary: Airman Touched by Memorial Service in Iraq

By Air Force Master Sgt. Darrell Habisch
Special to American Forces Press Service

CONTINGENCY OPERATING BASE ADDER, Iraq, May 31, 2010 – This Memorial Day in Iraq, I have shed many tears for a soldier I never met.

I was asked to videotape a memorial service for an Army major killed in action May 24 when an improvised explosive device pierced his mine-resistant, ambush-protected vehicle near Numaniyah in southern Iraq.

The memorial service took place May 27 at Memorial Hall here. Seats were set for 560 people, and it was already half full as soldiers waited for the 10:15 a.m. start time.

It was very quiet with hardly a whisper or sound of a weapon placed on the concrete floor. A projector cast photos of the major on a screen at the front of the stage.

Soldiers filed in and filled up seats until the hall was standing room only. To videotape, I positioned myself toward the front and to the side.

The members of his brigade wore the usual Army combat uniforms, with a few exceptions: instead of camouflaged caps, the members from the 2-108th Cavalry Squadron wore the traditional black Stetson hat with gold tassels, some with blue tassels in reference to that soldier’s infantry background. Many wore silver or gold combat spurs on their combat boots to honor their cavalry heritage.

Finally, a soldier asked the assembly to rise for the arrival of the official party. Four soldiers walked on stage.

They talked about what a great guy the major was, his great sense of humor and how he was always concerned about his soldiers.

They talked about how he gave his watch to a young lieutenant who kept asking what time it was, afraid she would miss a meeting. He told her he had worn that watch without taking it off for a year during his last deployment here and he left without a scratch.

He told her to never take it off and she’ll go home fine. She is a public affairs officer and every night the watch alarm went off at 6 p.m. She called and asked him how to turn it off and he said he wouldn’t tell her. Every evening when the alarm goes off, he told her, she will be reminded that she needs to write more stories about soldiers.

When his seemingly routine mission began, the major asked the squadron to fly a flag in honor of his wedding anniversary that day so he could send it back to his wife. The squadron raised his flag in front of headquarters for him. That afternoon, after the attack, they lowered his flag to half-staff, in his memory.

The service continued with the chaplain speaking of the major’s faith and how he knew he would see his friend in heaven. He choked up at the podium and the squadron command sergeant major walked across the stage to support him. The room was silent, save for the sound of more than 500 battle-tested soldiers sniffling.

The chaplain concluded his remarks with a prayer. Immediately, a bagpipe’s wail began at the rear of the hall as a single soldier played “Amazing Grace” while marching down the center aisle. He stopped at the memorial at the front.

The memorial was a table covered by a black and gold cloth upon which sat his boots, an inverted rifle standing upright with his helmet placed on top. His dog tags were hanging from the top of the rifle. The table had various items soldiers had placed there: his coffee cup, papers and other things that only have special meaning for them and their lost comrade.

When the song ended, the room was called to attention. The first sergeant on stage called for roll call for Headquarters and Headquarters Troop.

He yelled, “Captain Lloyd!”

A booming voice yelled back, “Here, first sergeant!”

“Major Robinson!”

“Here, first sergeant.”

“Major Culver!”

There was silence.

He yelled, “Maj. Ronald Culver!”


He yelled again, “Maj. Ronald W. Culver Jr.!”

And a voice said, “He’s not here first sergeant – for he’s gone to Fiddler’s Green.”

Profound silence.

“Sergeant Major, strike Major Culver’s name from the roll.”

After a few moments the soldiers walked off the stage and taps was played.

Soldiers stood and waited their turn to approach the memorial table, touch the dog tags, leave an item or say a prayer. Each performed a slow salute, turned and marched to a line of waiting comrades to express their condolences and share their grief.

Maj. Ronald “Wayne” Culver was a member of the Louisiana Army National Guard Headquarters and Headquarters Troop, 2nd Squadron, 108th Cavalry Regiment of Shreveport, La. The 44 year-old officer left behind a wife and two teenage children.

I don’t now Maj. Culver’s number ~ but then that’s not at all what matters to me

“Life is a gift, Freedom is a responsibility.”


Lest We Forget ~

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: Veterans, videos, war

Day is done,
gone the sun,
From the hills,
from the lake,
From the skies.
All is well,
safely rest,
God is nigh.

Go to sleep,
peaceful sleep,
May the soldier
or sailor,
God keep.
On the land
or the deep,
Safe in sleep.

Love, good night,
Must thou go,
When the day,
And the night
Need thee so?
All is well.
Speedeth all
To their rest.

Fades the light;
And afar
Goeth day,
And the stars
Shineth bright,
Fare thee well;
Day has gone,
Night is on.

Thanks and praise,
For our days,
‘Neath the sun,
Neath the stars,
‘Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh


“Burial at Sea”

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: Veterans

by LtCol George Goodson, USMC (Ret)

In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from
time to time, as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most
were trivial.

War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has
endured it.

Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic
and was wounded there, Vietnam was my war.

Now 42 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of
those days in Cambodia, Laos, and the panhandle of North Vietnam
where small teams of Americans and Montagnards fought much larger
elements of the North Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some
exotic, some mundane:
*The smell of Nuc Mam.
*The heat, dust, and humidity.
*The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets.
*Elephants moving silently through the tall grass.
*Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers.
*Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar.
*A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby.
*The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao.
*My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina,
Virginia, and Maryland.

It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in
Vietnam. Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from
Indianapolis to Norfolk, rented a house, enrolled my children in their
fifth or sixth new school, and bought a second car.

A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to
Little Creek, Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office.
Appearance is important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a
Poster Marine. I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only
30 days before. At 5’9″, I now weighed 128 pounds – 37
pounds below my normal weight. My uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was
yellow from malaria medication, and I think I had a twitch or two.

I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked
at the nameplate on a Staff Sergeant’s desk and said,
“Sergeant Jolly, I’m Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and
my Qualification Jacket.”

Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck
out his hand; we shook and he asked, “How long were you there,
Colonel?” I replied “18 months this time.” Jolly breathed, you must be
a slow learner Colonel.” I smiled.

Jolly said, “Colonel, I’ll show you to your office and bring in the
Sergeant Major. I said, “No, let’s just go straight to his office.”

Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, “Colonel, the Sergeant
Major. He’s been in this job two years. He’s packed pretty tight. I’m
worried about him.” I nodded.

Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major’s office. “Sergeant Major,
this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Office. The Sergeant Major
stood, extended his hand and said, “Good to see you again, Colonel.”
I responded, “Hello Walt, how are you?” Jolly looked at me, raised an
eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door.

I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of
coffee and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt’s stress was
palpable. Finally, I said, “Walt, what’s the h-ll’s wrong?” He turned
his chair, looked out the window and said, “George, you’re going to
wish you were back in Nam before you leave here. I’ve been in the
Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for 14
months, and Vietnam for 12 months. Now I come here to bury these kids.
I’m putting my letter in. I can’t take it anymore.” I said, “OK Walt.
If that’s what you want, I’ll endorse your request for retirement and
do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine Corps.”

Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good
Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too
much suffering. He was used up.

Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications,
conducted 28 military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the
families of Marines that were severely wounded or missing in action.
Most of the details of those casualty notifications have now,
thankfully, faded from memory. Four, however, remain.

MY FIRST NOTIFICATION My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I
was notified of the death of a 19 year old Marine. This
notification came by telephone from Headquarters Marine Corps. The
information detailed:

*Name, rank, and serial number.
*Name, address, and phone number of next of kin.
*Date of and limited details about the Marine’s death.
*Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk
Naval Air Station.
*A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be
opened or closed.

The boy’s family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 6
miles away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car.
Crossing the state line into North Carolina, I stopped at a small
country store / service station / Post Office. I went in to ask
Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the
small Post Office window. The man held a package. The Storeowner
walked up and addressed them by name, “Hello John. Good morning Mrs.

I was stunned. My casualty’s next-of-kin’ s name was John Cooper! I
hesitated, then stepped forward and said, “I beg your pardon. Are you
Mr. and Mrs. John Cooper of (address.)?”

The father looked at me-I was in uniform – and then, shaking, bent at
the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at
me. Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion.

I think I caught her before she hit the floor. The owner took a bottle
of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr. Cooper who drank. I
answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I drove them home in my
staff car. The storeowner locked the store and followed in their truck.
We stayed an hour or so until the family began arriving.

I returned the storeowner to his business. He thanked me and said,
“Mister, I wouldn’t have your job for a million dollars.” I shook his
hand and said; “Neither would I.”

I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five
Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house.
I sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed
the door, and sat there all night, alone. My Marines steered clear of me
for days. I had made my first death notification.

THE FUNERALS Weeks passed with more notifications and more
funerals. I borrowed Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and
taught them to conduct a military funeral: how to carry a casket, how
to fire the volleys and how to fold the flag.

When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always
said, “All Marines share in your grief.” I had been instructed to say,
“On behalf of a grateful nation….” I didn’t think the nation was
grateful, so I didn’t say that.

Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn’t speak. When
that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder.
They would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me,
“I’m so sorry you have this terrible job.” My eyes filled with tears
and I leaned over and kissed her.

ANOTHER NOTIFICATION Six weeks after my first notification,
I had another. This was a young PFC. I drove to his mother’s
house. As always, I was in uniform and driving a Marine Corps staff
car. I parked in front of the house, took a deep breath, and
walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew open, a middle-aged
woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across the yard, screaming
“NO! NO! NO! NO!”

I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and
whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her
up and carried her into the house.. Eight or nine neighbors followed.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, the father came in followed by
ambulance personnel. I have no recollection of leaving.

The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the
drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at
me once and shook his head sadly.

ANOTHER NOTIFICATION One morning, as I walked in the
office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant Jolly held the phone up and
“You’ve got another one, Colonel.” I nodded, walked into my office,
picked up the phone, took notes, thanked the officer making the call, I
have no idea why, and hung up. Jolly, who had listened, came in with a
Special Telephone Directory that translates telephone numbers into
the person’s address and place of employment.

The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a
mile from my office. I called the Longshoreman’ s Union Office
and asked for the Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him
who I was, and asked for the father’s schedule.

The Business Manager asked, “Is it his son?” I said nothing. After a
moment, he said, in a low voice, “Tom is at home today.”
I said, “Don’t call him. I’ll take care of that.” The Business Manager
said, “Aye, Aye Sir,” and then explained, “Tom and I were Marines in

I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I
knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door.
I saw instantly that she was clueless. I asked, “Is Mr. Smith home?” She
smiled pleasantly and responded, “Yes, but he’s eating breakfast now.
Can you come back later?” I said, “I’m sorry. It’s important. I need
to see him now.” She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and
said, “Tom, it’s for you.”

A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door.
He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself,
and said, “Jesus Christ man, he’s only been there three

Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day
while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and
gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth…… I never could do
that….. and held an imaginary phone to his ear.

Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, “Got
it.” and hung up. I had stopped saying “Thank You” long ago.

Jolly, “Where?”
Me, “Eastern Shore of Maryland.

The father is a retired Chief Petty Officer. His brother will accompany
the body back from Vietnam….”

Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, “This time
of day, it’ll take three hours to get there and back. I’ll call the
Naval Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I’ll have Captain
Tolliver get one of his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief’s

He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father’s door. He
opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at
parade rest beside the car, and asked, “Which one of my boys was it,

I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office
and home phone number and told him to call me, anytime.

He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00PM). “I’ve gone through my
boy’s papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you
make that happen?” I said, “Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will.”

My wife who had been listening said, “Can you do that?” I told her,
“I have no idea. But I’m going to break my ass trying.”

I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet
Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation,
and asked, “General, can you get me a quick appointment with the
Admiral at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters? ” General Bowser said,”
George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will see you.

I was and the Admiral did. He said coldly, “How can the Navy help the
Marine Corps, Colonel.” I told him the story. He turned to his Chief
of Staff and said, “Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?” The
Chief of Staff responded with a name.

The Admiral called the ship, “Captain, you’re going to do a burial at
sea. You’ll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this
mission is completed… ”

He hung up, looked at me, and said, “The next time you need a ship,
Colonel, call me. You don’t have to sic Al Bowser on my ass.”
I responded, “Aye Aye, Sir” and got the h-ll out of his office.

I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and
the Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship’s crew for
four days. Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He
said, “These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from

All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the
Senior Chief stood and said, “Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the
retired guys from World War II hang out.”

They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worst for wear,
and said, “It’s simple; we cut four 12″ holes in the outer shell of
the casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of
the casket. We can handle that, no sweat.”

The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General
Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The
sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The
ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth.

The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed
on a catafalque. The Chaplin spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag
was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played
“Eternal Father Strong to Save.” The casket was raised slightly at
the head and it slid into the sea.

The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet. The incoming
water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket
stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet,
stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising
from the sinking casket sparkled in the in the sunlight as the casket
disappeared from sight forever….

The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar
Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, “General, get me out
of here. I can’t take this anymore.” I was transferred two weeks

I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too
much death and too much suffering. I was used up.

Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car
convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with
me. He waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes,
came to attention, saluted, and said, “Well Done, Colonel. Well Done.”

I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor!

(Marine Corps Gazette)


A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made
payable to ‘The United States of America for an amount of up to and
including their life.’

That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no
longer understand it.’

Taco of The Sandgram interviewed LtCol Goodson in December ’09. Read it here.


For Mil-parents and Troops Supporters ~

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: Afghanistan, From The Front

Being a Mil-Mom “civvie” and not a military strategy expert in any way, I have been quite concerned about some of the things I have read about the ROE and what it means for our Troops.  A lot of what I have read since early 2009 has given me pause and some very unquiet middle of the night moments.  I have investigated as much as I could about the seemingly ever changing ROE but because of my ignorance of such things, I ended up feeling more confused than knowledgeable.  If you too are confused and concerned, please go to Mudville Gazette. (Where so many things Military are made clear.)

Greyhawk, whom I admire and respect so very much, has another outstanding post that all who have skin in the game should read.

Rules of Engagement in the Age of Obama

Rules of engagement: Are the lives of American soldiers being sacrificed on the altar of political correctness in the age of Obama? Stories implying (or outright stating) as much are certainly appearing with increasing frequency these days. You’re about to read two examples that I think will answer the question – if not settle the debate. I’ve redacted some identifying information, but can assure you these people are who they claim to be, and both can be considered expert witnesses on the topic. I expect a lot of people will be pissed at what they’re about to read, or ignore the truth, or eagerly dismiss them as ‘isolated incidents.’ They are not – they are typical, and these aren’t the only examples I can provide.

Please read it to the very end.  And then read the comments.  Some other people I respect also have a say.

Thanks, Greyhawk, for an easily understood post about this.

I feel less confused but not sure if I feel much better. Of course, that could just be that ol’ Mom thing.


This Broke My Heart ~

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: ARRGGGHHHH!!, Uncategorized

and sadly, it didn’t surprise me..

GETZ: Seeing a fallen soldier home

by Colleen M. Getz

His name was Marine Lance Cpl. Justin Wilson – although I did not know it when his life brushed mine on March 25 at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. Lance Cpl. Wilson was not there in the terminal that afternoon; at age 24 and newly married, he had been killed in Afghanistan on March 22 by a roadside bomb. A coincidence of overbooked flights led our lives to intersect for perhaps an hour, one I will never forget.


The calls for volunteers may have lasted only 20 or 30 minutes, but it seemed hours. It was almost unbearable to watch, yet to look away was to see the more than 100 other witnesses to this tragedy who were not moved to help. Then it did become unbearable when, in a voice laced with desperation and tears, the airline representative pleaded, “This young man gave his life for our country, can’t any of you give your seats so his family can get home?” Those words hung in the air….

Read it all.

Ms. Getz is much kinder than I could ever be toward those 100 people.

The disconnection, negativity, and lack of empathy in this country toward our Military and their families is a shameful reality.

I realize that our Military makes up only 1% of the population in the US,  but it’s one helluva 1%.

I realize that the media doesn’t seem to care that we are at war ~ unless it’s to report milestones of deaths or to blow some alleged wrongdoing by the Military all out of proportion, and rarely report the actual facts.  But then, they haven’t been with us for a long, long time.

Those who call our troops “murderers” and “babykillers” are now sitting in seats of power in our government and apologizing all over the world for our “arrogance” and “evil” doings.  Those who have desecrated our flag and figuratively or literally spit on those who have worn a uniform are now “teaching” our kids and grandkids how awful America is with their revisionist history and spewing their political leanings in our school’s classrooms.

I realize that unless you have a loved one in the Military, you don’t know of the heart-swelling pride, the knotted-stomach fear, the joy of holding your child all safe in your arms after a long time away, or the devastation of never again being able to hold your child ~ just a folded flag.

But God forbid you give up your seat on a plane for the family of one brave kid who gave the ultimate sacrifice ~ for you.

Thank you, Ms. Getz.



Honoring Those Who Went Before ~

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: Uncategorized

Flags In –

Old Guard Soldiers Put ‘Flags In’ at Arlington Cemetery

05.27.2010  WASHINGTON- More than 1,500 service members from the “Old Guard” and other ceremonial units gathered at Arlington National Cemetery May 27 for a sacred ritual marking the start of the Memorial Day weekend observance.

The men and women, representing all the services and Coast Guard, carried rucksacks full of small American flags, performing the time-honored Flags In event of marking the cemetery’s more than 350,000 white headstones with the stars and stripes.

“This is one of the many distinct honors entrusted to the Old Guard,” Army Maj. Rosy Poulos, 3rd Infantry public affairs officer, said. “They’re out here until every flag is placed, whether that’s 6:30 or 9:30 [p.m.]”

Sgt. Patrick Smith, from the Old Guard’s B Company, has placed flags in the cemetery for the past three years. Though the work is repetitive, he said, he considers it an honor.

“It’s a good way to honor the fallen, the ones who gave so many years of their lives, or their life itself, to the service of our country,” he said.

Smith said once he starts to see the headstones, and reads as he places each flag, a feeling of respect and reverence takes over.

“Once you start walking, and you see the headstones, there’s a certain connection, sort of an esprit de corps,” Smith said. “You see them and you get a feeling for how many have given their lives. It doesn’t matter what rank they held or what service they were a part of, each are treated as honorably as the other, they each get a flag.”

Staff Sgt. Rob Woodring placed flags for the first time today. At first he wasn’t sure what to expect, beyond the task itself. But he said it’s impossible not to feel a connection when surrounded by generations of service members.

“These people all gave their lives to the military, and to our country, whether they’re here because they dedicated their lives to service or gave their lives in service,” he said.

Flags-in has been performed annually since 1948 when the Old Guard was named the Army’s official ceremonial unit. The Old Guard includes the guards at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the Continental Color Guard and all Army funerals at Arlington National Cemetery. The flags will be removed early June 1 before the cemetery opens.

Each flag is centered precisely one foot in front of the headstone. Many soldiers use gloves equipped with wood, plastic, or metal plates to protect their hands as they place, on average, more than 230 flags each. Though some said they’d like a cooler day, none complained about the task itself.

“We’re part of something special,” Master Sgt. Kristine Zielinski said. “We get to honor our comrades.”

Yes, you are, Master Sgt.  Yes, you are.


Update on Snyder vs Westboro

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: Uncategorized

About time…

Opposing Fred Phelps honors U.S. soldiers

The Kansas City Star

By the end of today, nearly all 50 states are expected to be in legal alignment against Fred Phelps.

This is no small feat. Despite the rather bland feeling an amicus brief signed by a bunch of attorney generals may elicit , the importance should be understood….


Despicable people.   They want to screech from a street corner ~ fine.  But they need to be kept away from the funerals of our Fallen and leave their families alone.


Revising History Does Not Change Facts ~

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: Big Brother, media bias

I receive daily quotes in my email from Liberty Quotes and today’s selections, even though they are words spoken by people long dead, sadly are as appropriate for today as when these men lived.

~ John Adams, (1735-1826) Founding Father, 2nd US President:

“Liberty cannot be preserved
without a general knowledge among the people, who have…
a right, an indisputable, unalienable, indefeasible, divine right
to that most dreaded and envied kind of knowledge,
I mean the characters and conduct of their rulers.”

Since the internet’s sweeping rise around the world these past 20 years and the availability of information at the touch of a keyboard, we have the ability to know so much more about our elected, and those who hope-to-be-elected, officials and what they are doing, than I did when I came of voting age…if we choose to pay attention.  (It still boggles my mind.)  Instead of maybe one or two major scandals with senators or congressmen, etc. a year, there seems to be an ever growing number coming to light – and not only by the traditional media.  Even cellphones owned by Joe or Jane Q. Public are now capturing words and actions that can change a person’s career or life path.  A person’s actual character can be captured one minute and be available world-wide the next minute.

But, because our present day press isn’t so much the guardian of freedom as an accomplice in “controlling the message”, we have now almost as great a lack of real information from them as we did before the internet’s advent.

~ Joseph Pulitzer
(1847-1911) Hungarian-born American newspaper publisher after whom the Pulitzer Prize was named.

“Our republic and its press will rise and fall together.”

Ah, the irony…especially with this “most transparent administration” and “most ethical Congress ever” in our history.

No Watergate here.  Nothing to see.  Move along.

Not so easy to pull off any longer as Main Street folks are digging for facts and information and putting words, and video, to blogs as never before in my lifetime.  No, these folks do not have a “press pass”, but that does not stop them from reporting what they see and hear.

Of course, one who is paying attention must learn to separate facts from opinions ~ not always easy in this glut of information coming to you through your monitor.

~ Mahatma Mohandas K. Gandhi  (1869-1948)

“Truth never damages a cause that is just.”

I’m holding this quote close to my heart these days.  With all the misinformation and outright lies and smears coming from so much of the press these days about what is going on with our government, and someone’s opinion about world matters taken as the gospel by far too many –  just because he or she has the moniker “journalist” next to their name – the truth, held up with facts, is more important than ever before.

The cause of Liberty cannot be anything but just, whereas the cause of tyranny cannot be anything but unjust.

Which is why this administration and the part of Congress that is working so hard to take away our freedoms, is also trying so hard to control the message and shut down those who would disagree with them.

The light of knowledge based on facts shining on any cause will always be the best weapon against tyranny.

It’s up to us, now more than ever, to take up and shine the light that the press has turned off and put down.


Wednesday Hero ~

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: Uncategorized

This Weeks Post Was Suggested And Written By Beth

Capt. Kyle Comfort

Capt. Kyle Comfort
27 years old from Jacksonville, Alabama
Fire Support Officer Company D, 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment
May 8, 2010

U.S. Army

Kyle Comfort had just recently been promoted to Captain and been assigned to a Ranger Regiment in the Army. His accomplishments as a Soldier, in such a short time, were a testament to the fact that he was an excellent Soldier. Unfortunately, in this war, it doesn’t make a lot of difference how good you are at your job. The difference seems to be left to chance. Where you are sitting in your vehicle or which vehicle you are sitting in when you hit an IED or where you are standing on your FOB when the mortars come in. All chance and circumstance.

It has to be that way. The enemy that is fighting us now could never win a legitimate war with our Soldiers. So they fight as insurgents and use tactics that they know make our Soldiers vulnerable.

That is how they got CAPT Kyle Comfort. With an IED just a month into his tour of duty in Afghanistan. If they had fought him face-to-face, they never would have gotten him.

You Can Read The Rest Here

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.

We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. For more information about Wednesday Hero, or if you would like to post it on your site, you can go here.

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Pendleton 8 Marine Still In Prison ~

Author: yankeemom  //  Category: STUPIDITY

Acquitted in April 2010, Lawrence G Hutchins has been moved from Ft Leavenworth prison to the Camp Pendleton brig while the Navy decides if it will appeal the ruling.  Now, they say they need more time to figure out if they will go for a retrial.  Maybe if the prosecutors had let all the evidence regarding the case be placed in the trial in the first place, they wouldn’t even have to be giving this a second thought.

Military seeks more time for Hutchins appeal

The Associated Press
Posted : Thursday May 20, 2010 13:28:10 EDT

SAN DIEGO — Prosecutors are seeking more time to decide whether to challenge the overturning of a Camp Pendleton Marine’s murder conviction in one of the government’s biggest Iraqi war crimes cases….

Read the rest here.

April 23rd, 2010

Hamdaniya Marine’s Murder Conviction Overturned

May 7 ~

Hutchins returned to Camp Pendleton, awaits decision on his fate