Like a popular song says "All gave some, Some gave all."  All of us have either fought, have someone close to us that has or is currently fighting for this country.  Myself I have a son, that I love dearly, who served in the United States ARMY. He spent 14 months in Iraq and is now home safe. This page is in dedication to ALL of our service men and women around the world past, present and future.  We thank you for all that you endure to insure our freedom.

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Here is a video that is very touching. Check it out.

"If I Die Before You Wake"

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Here is another video that is very touching. Check it out.

"Remember Me"

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 "The willingness with which our young people are likely to serve in any war, no matter how justified, shall be directly proportional as to how they perceive the veterans of earlier wars were Treated and Appreciated by their nation."

— George Washington

 

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Ed Freeman
You're an 18 or 19 year old kid. You're critically wounded, and dying in the jungle in the Ia Drang Valley, 11-14-1965. LZ Xray , Vietnam . Your Infantry Unit is outnumbered 8 - 1, and the enemy fire is so intense, from 100 or 200 yards away, that your own Infantry Commander has ordered the MediVac helicopters to stop coming in.

You're lying there, listening to the enemy machine guns, and you know you're not getting out. Your family is 1/2 way around the world, 12,000 miles away, and you'll never see them again. As the world starts to fade in and out, you know this is the day.

Then, over the machine gun noise, you faintly hear that sound of a helicopter, and you look up to see a Huey, but it doesn't seem real, because no Medi-Vac markings are on it.

Ed Freeman is coming for you. He's not Medi-Vac, so it's not his job, but he's flying his Huey down into the machine gun fire, after the Medi-Vacs were ordered not to come.

He's coming anyway.

And he drops it in, and sits there in the machine gun fire, as they load 2 or 3 of you on board.

Then he flies you up and out through the gunfire, to the Doctors and Nurses.

And, he kept coming back...... 13 more times..... and took about 30 of you and your buddies out, who would never have gotten out.

Medal of Honor Recipient Ed Freeman died last Wednesday at the age of 80, in Boise , ID ......May God rest his soul.....

(sent to SpokaneBiker.com on September 25, 2008)

 

 

 

 

 

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Here are a couple of stories that were sent to me.  Please take the time to read them. I pray that they touch you as they did me.

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I sat in my seat of the Boeing 767 waiting for everyone to hurry and stow their carry ons and grab a seat so we could start what I was sure to be a long and uneventful flight home. With the huge capacity and slow moving people taking their time to stuff luggage far too big for the overhead and never paying much attention to holding up the growing line behind them, I
simply shook my head knowing that this flight was not starting out very well and although I had a great bunch of meetings while conducting business on this trip, it was quickly becoming tarnished with these delays in my getting home to my
loved one whom I had not seen in several days.
 
The meetings although fruitful were long and I had not slept well, not to mention those blasted new dress shoes that rubbed a blister on my heel. I was pretty focused on "my" issues and just felt like standing up and yelling for some of these clowns to get their act together and focus on taking their seats. Knowing I couldn't say anything that would really help, I just thumbed thru the sky mall widget magazine from the seat pocket in front of me. You know it's really getting rough when you resort to the over priced and mostly useless sky mall crap to break the monotony and inconvenience of the trouble "I" was going thru. With everyone finally on board and seated, we just sat there with the cabin door open and seemingly no one in any hurry to get us going even though we were well past our scheduled take off time. The paper work had not yet come in to the flight deck, the attendants just stood around talking. No wonder the airline industry is in trouble I told myself. Don!
  't they realize we have some place we are supposed to be? We should be treated with more importance, after all we are the customers, right?
 
Just then, the attendant came on the intercom to inform us all "that we were being delayed"...as she paused, the entire plane let out a collective groan. She resumed her announcement, 'we are holding the aircraft for some very special people who are on their way to the plane and that the delay should not be more than five more minutes. Their connecting flight had
traveled a long way and we would get underway just as soon as possible."
 
Now, I have had this happen to me before and more often than not, I had to catch the next flight or even go to another carrier to get to my destination. Still, I was grateful for the times when they waited for me,so I thought that I would go back to my sky mall pages and try to forget just how much "I" was being inconvenienced.
 
As the word came from a scrambling attendant down the connecting tunnel to the main cabin door I thought that maybe she had some information that would let us know why we had been sitting there for over 30 minutes!! Had someone finally given word that after waiting six times as long as we were first promised that "I" was finally going to be on my way home? Why the hoopla over these folks? Just get their butts in a seat and lets hit the gas, I thought to myself.
 
After a few minutes we were all "locked on" when the attendant came back on the speaker, semi expecting some celebrity or sport figure to be announced as the reason the aircraft was delayed so long. I thought who cares, let's go! She announced in a loud and excited voice that we were being joined by several United States Marines returning home from Iraq!!!!
 
Just as they walked onboard the entire plane erupted into applause. The Men were a bit taken by the surprise of the 340+ people cheering for them as they searched for their seats. It didn't stop, they were having their hands shook and touched by almost everyone who was within an arm's distance of them as they tried to push thru the aisles. Whistles, cheering, an occasional "oorrahh", one elderly woman kissed the hand of one of the Marines as he passed by her, and the applause didn't stop for a long time as they continued toward the back of the aircraft.
 
When we finally got air born I am sure I was not the only civilian checking his conscious as to the "delays" in me getting home from my "hard business meetings", finding my easy chair and remote, a cold beverage, and tending to my blister". In fact I felt pretty stupid as I am sure many did. After what these Men had done for all of us, and I had been complaining silently about "me" and "my issues"? It sure made me realize that as much as I told myself that I didn't take for granted some of the everyday freedoms I enjoy and the conveniences of the American way of life and that it sometimes seems like a personal attack on one of us when things don't go exactly right...I was doing exactly that.
I
was taking it for granted. I took it for granted when others who had really paid the price for my ability to moan and complain (even if it was just to myself)...let alone a few minutes delay to me so that those HEROES could go home to their loved ones. I attempted to get my selfish outlook back in order and minutes before we landed I suggested to the attendant that she announced over the speaker a request for everyone to remain in their seats until our Hero's were allowed to gather their things and be first off the plane. The cheers and applause continued until the last Marine stepped off and we all rose to go about our too often taken for granted everyday freedoms.... I felt Proud of Them. I felt it an Honor and a privilege to be among the first to welcome them home and say Thank You for a job well done.
 
I vowed that I will never forget that flight nor the lesson learned. I have said it before but I can't say it enough, THANK YOU to those VETERANS and ACTIVE SERVICEMEN AND WOMEN who may read this, and a prayer everyday for those who cannot because they are no longer with us. GOD BLESS AMERICA

 

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The daughter of a Soldier

Last week I was in Atlanta , Georgia attending a conference. While I was in
the airport, returning home, I heard several people behind me beginning to
clap and cheer. I immediately turned around and witnessed one of the
greatest act's of patriotism I have ever seen.
Moving thru the terminal was a group of soldiers in their camo's, as they
began heading to their gate everyone (well almost everyone) was abruptly to
their feet with their hands waving and cheering. When I saw the soldiers,
probably 30-40 of them, being applauded and cheered for it hit me. I'm not
alone. I'm not the only red blooded American who still loves this country
and supports our troops and their families. Of course I immediately stopped
and began clapping for these young unsung heroes who are putting their
lives on the line everyday for us so we can go to school, work and home
without fear or reprisal.
Just when I thought I could not be more proud of my country or of our
service men and women a young girl, not more than 6 or 7 years old, ran up
to one of the male soldiers. He kneeled down and said "hi," the little girl
then she asked him if he would give something to her daddy for her. The
young soldier, he didn't look any older than maybe 22 himself, said he
would try and what did she want to give to her daddy. Then suddenly the
little girl grabbed the neck of this soldier, gave him the biggest hug she
could muster and then kissed him on the cheek.

The mother of the little girl, who said her daughters name was Courtney,
told the young soldier that her husband was a Marine and had been in Iraq
for 11 months now. As the mom was explaining how much her daughter,
Courtney, missed her father, the young soldier began to tear up. When this
temporarily single mom was done explaining her situation, all of the
soldiers huddled together for a brief second. Then one of the other
servicemen pulled out a military looking walkie-talkie.

They started playing with the device and talking back and forth on it.
After about 10-15 seconds of this, the young soldier walked back over to
Courtney, bent down and said this to her, "I spoke to your daddy and he
told me to give this to you." He then hugged this little girl that he had
just met and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He finished by saying "your
daddy told me to tell you that he loves you more than anything and he is
coming home very soon."
The mom at this point was crying almost uncontrollably and as the young
soldier stood to his feet he saluted Courtney and her mom. I was standing
no more than 6 feet away from this entire event unfolded. As the soldiers
began to leave, heading towards their gate, people resumed their applause.
As I stood there applauding and looked around, their were very few dry
eyes, including my own. That young soldier in one last act of selflessness,
turned around and blew a kiss to Courtney with a tear rolling down his
cheek.
We need to remember everyday all of our soldiers and their families and
thank God for them and their sacrifices. At the end of the day, it's good
to be an American.

Red Friday
Just keeping you "in the loop" so you'll know what's going on in case this
takes off.

RED FRIDAYS ----- Very soon, you will see a great many people wearing Red
every Friday. The reason? Americans who support our troops used to be
called the "silent majority". We are no longer silent, and are voicing our
love for God, country and home in record breaking numbers. We are not
organized, boisterous or over-bearing. We get no liberal media coverage on
TV, to reflect our message or our opinions.
Many Americans, like you, me and all our friends, simply want to recognize
that the vast majority of America supports our troops. Our idea of showing
solidarity and support for our troops with dignity and respect starts this
Friday -and continues each and every Friday until the troops all come home,
sending a deafening message that...
Every red-blooded American who supports our men and women afar will wear
something red. By word of mouth, press, TV -- let's make the United States
on every Friday a sea of red much like a homecoming football game in the
bleachers. If every one of us who loves this country will share this with
acquaintances, co-workers, friends, and family. It will not be long before
the USA is covered in RED and it will let our troops know the once "silent"
majority is on their side more than ever, certainly more than the media
lets on.
The first thing a soldier says when asked "What can we do to make things
better for you?" is...We need your support and your prayers. Let's get the
word out and lead with class and dignity, by example; and wear something
red every Friday.

IF YOU AGREE -- THEIR BLOOD RUNS RED---- SO WEAR RED! --- MAY GOD HELP
AMERICA TO BECOME ONE NATION, UNDER GOD. HAVE A GREAT DAY.

 

 

1st Cavalry Division during training.

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The next photo was forwarded from one of the U.S. Marine companies in Iraq.
They would like to have it passed to as many people as possible, to let the folks back home know that they remember why they're there and that they remember those who've been lost  

 

  

 

 

 

 

SLEEP WELL LAST NIGHT?

Bed a little lumpy?

Toss and turn any?

Wish the heat was higher?

Maybe the A/C wasn't on?

Had to go to the john?

Need a drink of water?
 

Yes...
It is like that!

Count your blessings
Pray for them

Think of them...

Protecting your freedom! 

 

 

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Six Boys And Thirteen Hands..  the Iwo Jima memorial.

 

 This memorial is the largest bronze statue in the world and depicts one of the most famous photographs in history -- that of the six brave soldiers raising the American Flag at the top of a rocky hill on the island of Iwo Jima, Japan , during WW II.

 

Over one hundred students and chaperones piled off the buses and headed towards the memorial. I noticed a solitary figure at the base of the statue, and as I got closer he asked, 'Where are you guys from?' I told him that we were from Wisconsin 'Hey, I'm a cheese head, too! Come gather around, Cheese heads, and I will tell you a story.' ( James Bradley just happened to be in Washington , DC , to speak at the memorial the following day. He was there that night to say good night to his dad, who had passed away. He was just about to leave when he saw the buses pull up. I videotaped him as he spoke to us, and received his permission to share what he said from my videotape. It is one thing to tour the incredible monuments filled with history in Washington , D.C. , but it is quite another to get the kind of insight we received that night.)

 

When all had gathered around, he reverently began to speak. (Here are his words that night.) 'My name is James Bradley and I'm from Antigo, Wisconsin My dad is on that statue, and I just wrote a book called ' Flags of Our Fathers' which is #5 on the New York Times Best Seller list right now. It is the story of the six boys you see behind me.

 

'Six boys raised the flag. The first guy putting the pole in the ground is Harlon Block. Harlon was an all-state football player. He enlisted in the Marine Corps with all the senior members of his football team. They were off to play another type of game. A game called 'War.' But it didn't turn out to be a game. Harlon, at the age of 21, died with his intestines in his hands. I don't say that to gross you out, I say that because there are people who stand in front of this statue and talk about the glory of war. You guys need to know that most of the boys in Iwo Jima were 17, 18, and 19 years old - and it was so hard that the ones who did make it home never even would talk to their families about it.

 

(He pointed to the statue) 'You see this next guy? That's Rene Gagnon from New Hampshire . If you took Rene's helmet off at the moment this photo was taken and looked in the webbing of that helmet, you would find a photograph. . a photograph of his girlfriend. Rene put that in there for protection because he was scared. He was 18 years old. It was just boys who won the battle of Iwo Jima Boys. Not old men.

 

'The next guy here, the third guy in this tableau, was Sergeant Mike Strank. Mike is my hero. He was the hero of all these guys. They called him the 'old man' because he was so old. He was already 24. When Mike would motivate his boys in training camp, he didn't say, 'Let's go kill some Japanese' or 'Let s die for our country.' He knew he was talking to little boys. Instead he would say, 'You do what I say, and I'll get you home to your mothers.'

 

'The last guy on this side of the statue is Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian from Arizona Ira Hayes was one who walked off Iwo Jima . He went into the White House with my dad. President Truman told him, 'You're a hero.' He told reporters, 'How can I feel like a hero when 250 of my buddies hit the island with me and only 27 of us walked off alive?' So you take your class at school, 250 of you spending a year together having fun, doing everything together. Then all 250 of you hit the beach, but only 27 of your classmates walk off alive. That was Ira Hayes. He had images of horror in his mind. Ira Hayes carried the pain home with him and eventually died dead drunk, face down at the age of 32 (ten years after this picture was taken).

 

'The next guy, going around the statue, is Franklin Sousley from Hilltop, Kentucky . A fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. His best friend, who is now 70, told me, 'Yeah, you know, we took two cows up on the porch of the Hilltop General Store. Then we strung wire across the stairs so the cows couldn't get down. Then we fed them Epsom salts. Those cows crapped all night.' Yes, he was a fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. Franklin died on Iwo Jima at the age of 19. When the telegram came to tell his mother that he was dead, it went to the Hilltop General Store. A barefoot boy ran that telegram up to his mother's farm. The neighbors could hear her scream all night and into the morning. Those neighbors lived a quarter of a mile away.

 

'The next guy, as we continue to go around the statue, is my dad, John Bradley from Antigo, Wisconsin , where I was raised. My dad lived until 1994 but he would never give interviews. When Walter Cronkite 's producers or the New York Times would call, we were trained as little kids to say 'No, I m sorry, sir, my dad's not here. He is in Canada fishing. No, there is no phone there, sir No, we don't know when he is coming back.' My dad never fished or even went to Canada Usually, he was sitting there right at the table eating his Campbell 's soup. But we had to tell the press that he was out fishing. He didn't want to talk to the press.

 

'You see, like Ira Hayes, my dad didn't see himself as a hero. Everyone thinks these guys are heroes, 'cause they are in a photo and on a monument. My dad knew better. He was a medic. John Bradley from Wisconsin was a caregiver. In Iwo Jima he probably held over 200 boys as they died. And when boys died in Iwo Jima , they writhed and screamed, without any medication or help with the pain.

 

'When I was a little boy, my third grade teacher told me that my dad was a hero. When I went home and told my dad that, he looked at me and said, 'I want you always to remember that the heroes of Iwo Jima are the guys who did not come back. Did NOT come back.'

 

'So that's the story about six nice young boys. Three died on Iwo Jima , and three came back as national heroes. Overall, 7,000 boys died on Iwo Jima in the worst battle in the history of the Marine Corps. My voice is giving out, so I will end here. Thank you for your time.'

 

Suddenly, the monument wasn't just a big old piece of metal with a flag sticking out of the top. It came to life before our eyes with the heartfelt words of a son who did indeed have a father who was a hero. Maybe not a hero for the reasons most people would believe, but a hero nonetheless.

 

We need to remember that God created this vast and glorious world for us to live in, freely, but also at great sacrifice. Let us never forget from the Revolutionary War to the current War on Terrorism and all the wars in-between that sacrifice was made for our freedom. Remember to pray praises for this great country of ours and also pray for those still in murderous unrest around the world. STOP and thank God for being alive and being free at someone else's sacrifice. God Bless You and God Bless America

 

REMINDER: Everyday that you can wake up free, it's going to be a great day. (One thing I learned while on tour with my 8th grade students in DC that is not mentioned here is that if you look at the statue very closely and count the number of 'hands' raising the flag, there are 13. When the man who made the statue was asked why there were 13, he simply said the 13th hand was the hand of God.)

 

Great story - worth your time - worth every American's time.