The first Veterans Day or Armistice Day was proclaimed by Woodrow Wilson on November 11, 1919. This came a year after Germany's signing of the Armistice, at the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918. This treaty ended the major hostilities of World War I. Wilson had this to say during the proclamation:"To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations."
Our soldiers ARE heroes. Despite what some may say, our military men and women sacrifice their lives on a regular basis so that we may continue to enjoy what freedoms and liberties we have. And it's not just the soldiers who have already given their lives for their country who should be remembered on this day, but all of those still fighting and risking their lives on a daily basis. It hurts my heart to hear some people say spiteful and hateful things about those who have served so proudly, with honor, for us. It is their sacrifices which allow those same hurtful people to have the freedom to speak openly.
So, at the 11th hour on this 11th day of this 11th month of 2011, no matter where you are, take a moment to bow your head and thank those who have fought and died for our freedom and those who are still fighting.
The Things That Make A Soldier Great
by: Edgar Guest
The things that make a soldier great and send him out to die,
To face the flaming cannon's mouth nor ever question why,
Are lilacs by a little porch, the row of tulips red,
The peonies and pansies, too, the old petunia bed,
The grass plot where his children play, the roses on the wall:
'Tis these that make a soldier great.
He's fighting for them all.
'Tis not the pomp and pride of kings that make a soldier brave;
'Tis not allegiance to the flag that over him may wave;
For soldiers never fight so well on land or on the foam
As when behind the cause they see the little place called home.
Endanger but that humble street whereon his children run,
You make a soldier of the man who never bore a gun.
What is it through the battle smoke the valiant soldier sees?
The little garden far away, the budding apple trees,
The little patch of ground back there, the children at their play,
Perhaps a tiny mound behind the simple church of gray.
The golden thread of courage isn't linked to castle dome
But to the spot, where'er it be — the humblest spot called home.
And now the lilacs bud again and all is lovely there
And homesick soldiers far away know spring is in the air;
The tulips come to bloom again, the grass once more is green,
And every man can see the spot where all his joys have been.
He sees his children smile at him, he hears the bugle call,
And only death can stop him now — he's fighting for them all.
To face the flaming cannon's mouth nor ever question why,
Are lilacs by a little porch, the row of tulips red,
The peonies and pansies, too, the old petunia bed,
The grass plot where his children play, the roses on the wall:
'Tis these that make a soldier great.
He's fighting for them all.
'Tis not the pomp and pride of kings that make a soldier brave;
'Tis not allegiance to the flag that over him may wave;
For soldiers never fight so well on land or on the foam
As when behind the cause they see the little place called home.
Endanger but that humble street whereon his children run,
You make a soldier of the man who never bore a gun.
What is it through the battle smoke the valiant soldier sees?
The little garden far away, the budding apple trees,
The little patch of ground back there, the children at their play,
Perhaps a tiny mound behind the simple church of gray.
The golden thread of courage isn't linked to castle dome
But to the spot, where'er it be — the humblest spot called home.
And now the lilacs bud again and all is lovely there
And homesick soldiers far away know spring is in the air;
The tulips come to bloom again, the grass once more is green,
And every man can see the spot where all his joys have been.
He sees his children smile at him, he hears the bugle call,
And only death can stop him now — he's fighting for them all.
This entry was posted
on Friday, November 11, 2011
and is filed under
freedom. honor,
military,
soldiers,
Veterans Day 2011,
vets
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