delta314
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> Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb,
> a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.
> Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone
> together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort
> of inner steel, the soul's ally forged in the refinery of
> adversity.
> Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America
> safe wear no badge or emblem.
> You can't tell a vet just by looking.
>
> What is a vet?
>
> He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia
> sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel
> carriers didn't run out of fuel.
>
> He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose
> overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the
> cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th
> Parallel.
>
> He is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep
> sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
>
> He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or
> didn't come back AT ALL.
>
> He is the Quantico DI who has never seen combat - but has saved
> countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang
> members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's
> backs.
>
> He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and
> medals with a prosthetic hand.
>
> He is the career Quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals
> pass him by.
>
> He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose
> presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve
> the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies
> unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless
> deep.
>
> He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied
> now, and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp
> and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold
> him when the nightmares come.
>
> He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person
> who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of
> his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not
> have to sacrifice theirs.
>
> He is a serviceman and a savior and a sword against the darkness,
> and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on
> behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.
>
> So remember, each time you see someone who has served our
> country... just lean over and say "Thank You." That's all most
> people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals.
> Two little words that mean a lot:
>
> "THANK YOU".
> a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.
> Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone
> together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort
> of inner steel, the soul's ally forged in the refinery of
> adversity.
> Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America
> safe wear no badge or emblem.
> You can't tell a vet just by looking.
>
> What is a vet?
>
> He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia
> sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel
> carriers didn't run out of fuel.
>
> He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose
> overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the
> cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th
> Parallel.
>
> He is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep
> sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
>
> He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or
> didn't come back AT ALL.
>
> He is the Quantico DI who has never seen combat - but has saved
> countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang
> members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's
> backs.
>
> He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and
> medals with a prosthetic hand.
>
> He is the career Quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals
> pass him by.
>
> He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose
> presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve
> the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies
> unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless
> deep.
>
> He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied
> now, and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp
> and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold
> him when the nightmares come.
>
> He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person
> who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of
> his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not
> have to sacrifice theirs.
>
> He is a serviceman and a savior and a sword against the darkness,
> and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on
> behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.
>
> So remember, each time you see someone who has served our
> country... just lean over and say "Thank You." That's all most
> people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals.
> Two little words that mean a lot:
>
> "THANK YOU".
