Recently in Honor Category

I don't rightly recall, but I may have mentioned that one of the Weekend Pundit nieces is in the United States Army and presently deployed to Afghanistan.

I recently received an e-mail from her by way of my sister-in-law and my lovely missus which points to a WaPo piece about her unit and the training she and the others went through to prepare for their tour of duty. The article covers the specialized training and evaluation these troops went through in order to qualify for one of these special units. Those who made it through are some tough cookies.

My niece appears in a number of pictures in the accompanying photo gallery, but I am not going to reveal her name.

We've always thought she was special, and this and her present duty post certainly prove it without a doubt.

Over the years I wrote about George W. Bush that he wasn't to be taken lightly. His "aww, shucks" persona hid a sharp mind, constantly leading people to underestimate him.

As Walt Harrington mentions in his piece, Dubya and Me:

As he talked, I even thought about an old Saturday Night Live skit in which an amiable, bumbling President Ronald Reagan, played by Phil Hartman, goes behind closed doors to suddenly become a masterful operator in total charge at the White House. The transformation in Bush was that stunning to me.

As I've written more than once that Dubya's like that good ol' boy who will invite you into his home for a couple of cold ones and some poker, and you'll leave some time later a little drunk and lot lighter in the wallet.

As time has gone by and Obama has been put his stamp on the presidency, George W. Bush's image has been rehabilitated. Those highway billboards picturing a smiling and waving Bush and the tag line "Miss me yet?" may have been a bit of satire, but somehow I think more than a few people, including some Democrats, do indeed miss him.

Though Harrison had known Bush for a number of years, he didn't really understand him until he had the opportunity to have dinner with him at the White House one evening, an informal meal with just Bush, Harrison, and Mark McKinnon, Bush's campaign media adviser. As Harrison described it:

I left the White House in a daze. I even got lost in the pitch-black darkness and had to drive around the small parking lot for a few minutes to find my way to the gate. I called my wife, and she asked how the evening had gone. I couldn't answer.

"I've never known you to be speechless," she said, genuinely surprised.

I finally said, "It was like sitting and listening to Michael Jordan talk basketball or Pavarotti talk opera, listening to someone at the top of his game share his secrets."

It wouldn't surprise me in the least to find others have found themselves feeling exactly the same thing after spending time with Bush, even now, despite the fact that he's been out of office for over two-and-a-half years.

One of the things that surprised Harrison: Bush is a voracious reader. Most of what he read was historical non-fiction. As Harrison tells us, his understanding of history, particularly those parts made by his predecessors, helped him understand the broader context of what he had to deal with as President. It's a shame the present occupant of the White House lacks even a modicum of that understanding.

Is it any wonder George W. Bush is looking better every day as we look back upon his presidency?

(H/T Instapundit)

Like many of you, I've been watching some of the various TV shows commemorating That Awful Day. I've recorded more than a few, being unable to watch more than a couple of minutes before feeling the pain and the rage I felt back then.

As more than one person has told me it feels like it was only yesterday, not ten years ago. It was only yesterday America found itself at war with an intractable, brutal enemy that recognizes no innocents, sees murder as a way to some vaguely pornographic glory, and holds life cheap.

The words that follow I wrote a few years ago and they still are fitting, expressing what needs to be said about That Awful Day.

It's hard to believe it's been years.

It still hurts, that heartache that never really goes away.

Remembering That Awful Day still brings tears to my eyes.

So many gone.

So many died.

So many hearts broken.

So many families torn asunder.

So many heroes that never thought twice about their own safety working hard to save the lives of so many others.

Other heroes whose last words were "Let's roll."

Let us never forget that day of thunder, fire, smoke, heroic deeds, tearful goodbyes, and at the end, mournful silence.

Let us never forget.

In light of tomorrow's significance, my usual Thoughts On A Sunday post will be postponed until Monday.

I think we all have more important things to think about.

Received via e-mail.

Words fail me.


Click on image to enlarge

The following is a post from sometime WP contributor Bill Johnson, followed by a bleg/ad/announcement for a benefit hosted by a local establishment on behalf of a local New Hampshire veteran's organization. Normally we here at WP don't post such things, but for this cause I am more than willing to make an exception.

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We live in a Republic.

Those that are educated in, or self-educated about what this Republic entails genuinely support it and those who genuinely serve its function.

When an American citizen swears the oath of loyalty to serve in the armed forces, there is most assuredly a pact between themselves and the government whose sole purpose is to Stand for the American people. Each agrees to take responsibility for the other in both the short and long term. At the same time and at every moment it should be understood that a government is made of people and it is inherently inferior to fulfill the exact fullness of the virtues to which it sets itself. Virtues that are goodly inspired will always be wanting of human ability to achieve them in their totality. We are imperfect when measured against ourselves, and we are far from perfect when measured against goodly, and yes, Godly virtues, particularly when tied to any bureaucracy. Holding each of these three separate ideas as their own truth, a person who does believe in them faces a challenge. We have spoke for a brief time, and though this language is "lofty", the nature and ramifications of all these thoughts, feelings, and internal forces lead an American of simple good conscience to think that perhaps those who go to the battlefield in our name are not singularly the responsibility of the government to help when help is needed. "Take care of those who take care of you."

The Thirsty Crows Pub is excited to host the Liberty House for a spaghetti benefit dinner. On Thursday July the 21st there will be an all you can eat spaghetti (and meatballs and meat sauce and garlic bread) dinner for $8.99, of which $5 for every plate goes toward the endeavors of Liberty House. Liberty House is a program dedicated to help homeless veterans of any age or war with temporary shelter and one on one personal aide. The Thirsty Crows encourages them to take any additional donations beyond our dinner proceeds. The benefit dinner runs from 5 pm to 8pm, those that have bought the special dinner previous to 8 pm can continue to receive more portions as long as The Thirsty Crows is open (within reason). The spaghetti benefit dinner is basically a portion of spaghetti and garlic bread either by itself or with marinara sauce, meatballs and sauce, meat marinara sauce, or both.

World War II veteran Jack Leroy Tueller tells his story about how music changed the the heart and mind of a German sniper after D-Day.



(H/T Facebook - Thanks, Deb!)

For all those who have served and given the ultimate sacrifice, we salute you.

From the rubble rises a new beginning.

The new Freedom Tower rises next to the 9/11 Memorial in lower Manhattan, at 58 stories and climbing. At 680 feet it's just a little over one-third its planned height of 1776 feet.

An average of one floor is being added every week and construction continues around the clock. While it will still be a few years before the building is complete, it already provides a view of the 9/11 Memorial, which is scheduled to open on September 11, 2011, exactly 10 years after The Terrible Day.

This day always seems to sneak up on me. I don't know if it's a conscious decision of mine or whether I'm just too busy living life. But every year over the previous eight years the eleventh day of the ninth month arrives and almost takes me unaware.

That Awful Day was nine years ago today.

Many of our children aren't old enough to know about or remember what happened. In their lives the World Trade Center towers never existed. There never was a scorched and burning scar on the side of the Pentagon. There never was that deep hole hammered into the ground by Flight 93 in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

For some it's just another day that also happens to be the anniversary of the attacks, something that happened long ago. But to me and many others, it was just yesterday. The sights and sounds are as fresh as if That Awful Day were happening right now.

It. Still. Hurts.

And we are the lucky ones.

Almost 3000 people died on That Awful Day. For some, the end came quickly. For others, they knew they were doomed and that there was no hope of being saved. It was only a matter of time before their time on Earth would end. And as they waited they called family and friends, giving them their last words of love, hope, and prayer.

Some waited in the growing smoke and flames until they could stand it no more and launched themselves into eternity and plummeted along the walls of steel, glass, and concrete to a certain but quick end. Others had no choice but to wait until their world collapsed around them, making them part of all that which once was the substance of the towers.

When the echoes of the rumbling and thunder of That Awful Day faded away, the dust settled, and the smoke drifted away, the world gasped at what had been wrought.

From the skies came death and then from the skies came...silence.

Slowly the skies emptied and then were empty. No contrails could be seen. No distant rumble or drone of flying aircraft could be heard. Nothing made by man moved in the air. All was still, as if to move would somehow deepen the grief and shatter our tenuous control over our emotions.

All over the world, American flags flew where perhaps they had been rarely seen before. And in a place that had helped give birth to America, red coated soldiers stopped in the midst of performing their duties, raised their instruments, and played the Star Spangled Banner. The crowds surrounding Buckingham Palace were stunned, for such a thing had never been done before. The Americans in the crowd sang the anthem as it played, even as tears filled their eyes and blurred their vision.

And we grieved.

Some of us still do.

I think this music video made by four veterans, all of whom served in Iraq (and one in Afghanistan as well) explains it all.

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As a side note, Deb is working today. Normally one might think she wouldn't want to work on Memorial Day, but that's not the case. You see, Deb works at the New Hampshire Veterans Home, taking care of those who served so gallantly. Most of those she takes care of in her ward served in World War II and Korea. She knows their histories and how they served. And now, at the end of their lives, she is honored to take care of them as they have taken care of us.

From Wired by way of Instapundit comes this video of a CGI reconstruction of US Airways Flight 1549 from takeoff from La Guardia to its landing in the Hudson River.



Notice how Captain Sullenberger sounded calm, cool, and collected in his communications with New York Departure Control. Nerves of steel, the mark of a professional.

It's hard to believe it's been 8 years.

It still hurts, that heartache that never really goes away.

Remembering that awful day still brings tears to my eyes.

So many gone.

So many died.

So many hearts broken.

So many families torn asunder.

So many heroes that never thought twice about their own safety working hard to save the lives of so many others.

Other heroes whose last words were "Let's roll."

Let us never forget that day of thunder, fire, smoke, heroic deeds, tearful goodbyes, and at the end, mournful silence.

Let us never forget.

What does it say about our new Commander-In-Chief when he can't be bothered to attend the American Legion's Salute To The Heroes Inaugural Ball, given to honor recipients of the Congressional Medal of Honor? Every President since Eisenhower has attended the ball. Until now. I guess that shows us how committed he is to our veterans and those presently serving.

After viewing the video and hearing the reports of the U.S. Airways jet having to ditch in the Hudson River after what appears to be twin engine failures, I have one thing to say to the captain and first officer of that aircraft:

Job Well Done!

Having been a pilot I can say from experience they did a marvelous job bringing their crippled aircraft down to a safe, though unconventional landing. Any landing the passengers and crew can walk away from is a good one. (Or maybe I should say "swim away from", under the circumstances.)

Having had a few close calls myself, I can only guess that while the emergency was ongoing the only thought the flight crew in the cockpit had was to get their bird down safely. Nothing else mattered. But once down and their passengers and crew members were safely away, the reality of what they had just done kicked in. Then and only then would their emotions come into play. And I'll bet the first one was of stunned relief.

They have every right to feel that way.

Our friends at Granite Grok steered me to this, a translation of an article by a French infantryman serving in Afghanistan along side soldiers from the US Army (from what I could tell from the article, the US soldiers are from the 101st Airborne Division). The original article is in French and was translated by Jean-Marc Liotier over at Serendipitous Altruism.

I have included the translation in its entirety.

"We have shared our daily life with two US units for quite a while - they are the first and fourth companies of a prestigious infantry battalion whose name I will withhold for the sake of military secrecy. To the common man it is a unit just like any other. But we live with them and got to know them, and we henceforth know that we have the honor to live with one of the most renowned units of the US Army - one that the movies brought to the public as series showing "ordinary soldiers thrust into extraordinary events". Who are they, those soldiers from abroad, how is their daily life, and what support do they bring to the men of our OMLT every day ? Few of them belong to the Easy Company, the one the TV series focuses on. This one nowadays is named Echo Company, and it has become the support company.

They have a terribly strong American accent - from our point of view the language they speak is not even English. How many times did I have to write down what I wanted to say rather than waste precious minutes trying various pronunciations of a seemingly common word? Whatever state they are from, no two accents are alike and they even admit that in some crisis situations they have difficulties understanding each other.

Heavily built, fed at the earliest age with Gatorade, proteins and creatine - they are all heads and shoulders taller than us and their muscles remind us of Rambo. Our frames are amusingly skinny to them - we are wimps, even the strongest of us - and because of that they often mistake us for Afghans.

Here we discover America as it is often depicted : their values are taken to their paroxysm, often amplified by promiscuity lack of privacy and the loneliness of this outpost in the middle of that Afghan valley. Honor, motherland - everything here reminds of that: the American flag floating in the wind above the outpost, just like the one on the post parcels. Even if recruits often originate from the hearth of American cities and gang territory, no one here has any goal other than to hold high and proud the star spangled banner. Each man knows he can count on the support of a whole people who provides them through the mail all that an American could miss in such a remote front-line location : books, chewing gums, razorblades, Gatorade, toothpaste etc. in such way that every man is aware of how much the American people backs him in his difficult mission. And that is a first shock to our preconceptions : the American soldier is no individualist. The team, the group, the combat team are the focus of all his attention.

I thought long and hard about this, the seventh anniversary of that horrible day. I doubt that anyone forgets where they were that clear September morning.

I looked over a large number of tributes, photos and cartoons both, to find one that adequately expresses how I feel about that day. There was more than one that could have easily done that, but this one says it far better than I ever could. More than just an image of what we all lost, it is a personal account about a single person, a neighbor, and a corner of a driveway.