Since gasoline has reached a price point where it now effects our decision-making, I thought I would pass along an email that I received from a friend this morning. I don’t know and cannot vouch for how much of this is reliable information, but you never know. So, since I don’t have $$$$ […]

Today is Memorial Day. For most of us, this is a day about celebration and backyard picnics. For many, it is a day of mourning and regret. Not so much because of a cause they did not believe in, but a special day set aside for remembering what is lost still does not replace a living, breathing person. Yet, without those brave men and women, who over the years believed in the ideal of freedom and a place called America, we can gather in backyards and public squares without fear.

PBS has done annual specials about Memorial Day’s. I’d like to share a few stories and letters from some of their programs. As you read them, offer a prayer of thanksgiving for the sacrifice of our soldiers and for their families on this day. And after you’re finished reading, take a moment to listen to this haunting, but comforting song about sacrifice and loss on the part of our servicemen and women. The link will open in a separate window if you’d like to listen to it while reading.

If You’re Reading This - Tim McGraw (click here to listen to song)

WORLD WAR 2 - CHARLES DURNING

It’s hard to describe what we all went through that day, but those of you who were there will understand.

We were frightened all the time. My sergeant said, are you scared, son? And I said, yes, I am. And he said, that’s good. It’s good to be scared. He said, we all are.

This guy in the boat, he turned to me and threw up all over me, and I got seasick. It was scary. You’re not thinking about anything, you’re just thinking about, you hope that shell that just went off isn’t going to hit this boat. Even the guys who had seen a lot of action before – and this was my first time – they were just as ashen as I was.

And I was frightened, to death. I was the second man off my barge and the first and third man got killed. The first guy, the ramp went down, the guy fell, and I tried to leap over him and I stumbled, and we both slipped into the water.

We were supposed to be able to walk into shore, but they didn’t bring us in far enough, and I was in 60 feet of water, with a 60-pound pack on. So I let it all go. I was under the water, and you could see the bullets go “ps..ss…tt” down past you. But what I was afraid of was that I’d come up and meet a bullet coming my way. But I came up, and I didn’t have a helmet, a rifle, nothing. When I hit the beach, the guys pulled me in who were already there. I’d lost everything, but they said you’ll find plenty of them on the beach, rifles and helmets that belonged to nobody.

Nobody knew where we were supposed to go. There was nobody in charge, you were on your own. All around me, people were being shot at. I saw bodies all over the place, but you didn’t know whether they were alive or dead, ’cause they were just lying there.

The ships were still bombing in there too. Somebody asked me how it was on D-Day and I said “loud.” When something goes off, you can’t hear anything. You could watch a guy’s mouth and know that he was talking to you, but you couldn’t hear him. That was frightening ’cause you didn’t know what was going on. The artillery was dropping constantly and all around you, and you were lucky not to get splattered. And then our planes were coming in and they couldn’t see where to shoot and they were hitting some of our men.

We got behind this tank to protect ourselves. We were holding our own there, until they called us over. I asked the sergeant, do you want me to go first? And he said you go first, I’ll be right behind you. I heard an explosion and I turned around and his torso was here, and his upper body was over there.

There was another guy whose intestines were out on the sand in front of him. And he was still alive, and he seemed to be very calm. You know when someone’s dying, you can see it right away. Everything changes in their face, its kind of gray. He said, “I can’t go home like this. How they gonna push all that back into me?”

I saw wounded or dying guys crawl up in front of us to act as barricades, so they could protect us from getting hit with their own bodies. I saw that. They would come up and just lay there, you know, take the shot.

Once we got up to the bluff, you could see for miles. It was this eerie sight of bodies which looked like driftwood floating in the water. The beach was covered with the bodies of American soldiers.

All of these are like flashbacks for me. I can’t recall everything …

I forget a lot of stuff now, but I still wake up once in a while and it’s still there … I can’t count how many of my buddies are in the cemetery at Normandy.

The heroes are still there, the real heroes.

THE GULF WAR - MR. WILLIAM DELANEY’S LETTER TO HIS SON

January 10, 1991

Dear Wil,

Yesterday the meeting between Baker and Hassis came to nothing and the war suddenly became probable. Now I feel I must race against time and try to tell you how much I love you. This is a letter I hoped never to write. I have not been an ideal father and to this day and for all the days that are left to me I will remember you as a small boy asking me to stay home with you and my not being able to tell you why I could not. A child’s love for a parent seems to endure no matter what, but I wish more than anything that you and your sister would never have had any occasion to forgive me. Wil, you’ve grown up straight, tall, handsome, smart and charming. I’m impressed not only with your worldliness but also your plain values of courage and truthfulness. No family has ever sent into the world a more decent young man and one more loved. Your mother and I, and indeed all of us, are humbled by the magnitude of the sacrifice you are prepared to make. We will never, ever be relieved of our sorrow if you are lost to us. Even now the pettiness and meanness and the shallowness of life are cast away when we think of you and the light you could always shine on us. If and when the day comes, remember that we are not so interested in glory and honor as much as the decency and compassion and love you show for others near you. Having chosen to risk so much for a cause you feel is just, I know you will always seek justice. If you leave us, depend on us seeking it in your name. My thoughts are with you now and always.

Love, from your father.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 - MAJOR LINCOLN LIEBNER’S PERSONAL ACCOUNT

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was home in Washington, DC. I wasn’t scheduled to go to my communications job at the Pentagon until that night. It was the most beautiful day in Washington of all time. Just a perfect morning. I didn’t even want to go inside when my girlfriend called, and told me to turn on the TV: the first World Trade Center tower had just been hit. And then I saw the second plane hit the other tower and I knew in an instant it was an attack.

I jumped into my car and drove to the Pentagon. I parked and started to jog to the nearest entrance, and that’s when I saw the American Airlines plane go right past me. It was probably about thirty feet off the ground, clipping the lampposts. I could clearly see through the windows of the plane. It was maybe going 500 miles an hour – when it just flew … into the Pentagon … less than a hundred yards away.

The noise was like nothing I’d ever heard before. Louder than artillery. There was a lot of black smoke and flames and fire. But the incredible thing was there were no pieces of the plane. It just disappeared into the building. Some people were running away, but I started to run towards the building – it was what I was supposed to do.

Inside, it was just very dark and smoky. The plane had entered on the floor above so everything had caved in. The first thing I heard were two women, trapped underneath some debris. I got the rubbish off them, and they scurried on out. Then a woman came stumbling toward me. She was very, very badly burned. As she reached out to me, I grabbed her arm and absolutely all the skin came off. It was just like pulling off a sock. I got her out; but I felt so bad, I remember saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

I could hear people shouting to me all over the building. “We can see you, we can see you!” But it was so dark I couldn’t see anybody; I couldn’t find them to help them. I was doing okay with the fire and the smoke, but I couldn’t breathe. How far could I push myself so I could find more people? I wish I could say I wasn’t scared. I can’t say that.

I heard a group of maybe six people that were stuck behind a wall of rubble. I was able to create a little tunnel through the wreckage, you know, like a rabbit trail in the forest. One of the men was so very badly burned, his clothing was mostly gone. There was no way to move him other than to, actually hold his belt, kind of straddle him and move him about eight inches at a time. I kept apologizing to him the whole time I was moving him – he must have been in so much pain.

After I got the group out, I couldn’t breathe, absolutely couldn’t breathe. I ran outside to get some air … and fell on my knees. Somebody gave me an oxygen mask. It couldn’t have been more than two or three minutesâ