OT: Happy Memorial Day
- Thread starter MadRU
- Start date
It a holiday that should not be met with a āhappyā IMHOā¦but understand the sentiment behind it. Sadly, a large percentage of Americans either donāt know or care about it. Theyāre more interested in worthless pointless days like Halloween and Valentineās Day.
The truest holidays me are Memorial Day, 4th of July, Labor Day and Veterans Dayā¦the rest is just time off or an excuse to drinkā¦both of which are fine
The truest holidays me are Memorial Day, 4th of July, Labor Day and Veterans Dayā¦the rest is just time off or an excuse to drinkā¦both of which are fine
Iāve heard several military personnel talk about Memorial Day as a day to celebrate their lost friends. That they want everyone to raise a glass to celebrate them.
I have so many family members that served. I understand and remember better than most.
Go watch the movie āTaking Chanceā todayā¦
Excellent movie that should be played in every HS civics class
Pretty sure @MrsScrew is the first one to tell me about this movie.
it's truly a shame that HBO doesn't play it every year anymore and that it needs to be paid for on Amazon Prime.
If anyone hasn't seen the movie, this is the Blog post that inspired it
By U.S. Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel Michael Strobl
When we arrived at Billings, I was the first off the plane. The funeral director had driven five hours up from Riverton, Wyoming, to meet us. He shook my hand as if I had personally lost a brother.
English: LCpl Chance Phelps USMC images (Photo credit: Wikipedia)I picked up my rental car and followed Chance for the five hours back to Riverton. During the long trip I imagined how my meeting with Chanceās parents would go. I didnāt know anything about Chance Phelps; not even what he looked like. I wondered about his family and what it would be like to meet them. I was very nervous about that.
When we finally arrived at the funeral home, I felt I needed to inspect Chanceās uniform to ensure everything was proper.
Earlier in the day I wasnāt sure how Iād handle this moment. Suddenly, the casket was open and I got my first look at Chance Phelps. His uniform was immaculateāa tribute to the professionalism of the Marines at Dover. I noticed that he wore six ribbons over his marksmanship badge; the senior one was his Purple Heart. I had been in the Corps for more than seventeen years, including a combat tour, and was wearing eight ribbons. This private first class, with less than a year in the Corps, had already earned six.
The next morning, I wore my dress blues and followed the hearse for the trip up to Dubois, population about 900, some ninety miles away. This was the most difficult leg of our trip for me. I was bracing for the moment when I would meet his parents and hoping I would find the right words as I presented them with Chanceās personal effects. We got to the high school about four hours before the service was to begin.
In short order I met Chanceās step-mom and father, followed by his step-dad and, at last, his mom.
I told them about our trip. I told them how, at every step, Chance was treated with respect, dignity, and honor. I didnāt know how to express to these people my sympathy for their loss and my gratitude for their sacrifice. Now, however, they were repeatedly thanking me for bringing their son home and for my service. I was humbled beyond words.
The service was a fitting tribute to this hero. When it was over, we stood as the casket was wheeled out with the family following. The casket was placed onto a horse-drawn carriage for the mile-long trip from the gym, down the main street, then up the steep hill to the cemetery. I stood alone and saluted as the carriage departed the high school.
All along the route, people had lined the street and were waving small American flags. The flags that were otherwise posted were all at half-staff. For the last quarter mile up the hill, local boy scouts, spaced about twenty feet apart, all in uniform, held large flags. At the foot of the hill, I could look up and back and see how enormous the procession was. I wondered how many people would be at this funeral if it were in, say, Detroit or Los Angelesāprobably not as many as were here in little Dubois, Wyoming.
The carriage stopped about fifteen yards from the grave. Once the entire crowd was in place, the pallbearers came to attention and began to remove the casket from the caisson. As I had done all week, I came to attention and executed a slow ceremonial salute as Chance was being transferred from one mode of transport to another.
From Dover to Philadelphia, Philadelphia to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to Billings, Billings to Riverton, and Riverton to Dubois, we had been together. Now, as I watched them carry him the final fifteen yards, I was choking up. I felt that, as long as he was still moving, he was somehow still alive. Then they positioned him over his grave. He had stopped moving.
Now, he was home to stay and I suddenly felt at once sad, relieved, and useless. It had been my honor to take Chance Phelps to his final post. Now he is on the high ground overlooking his town.
I miss him.
Taking Chance
Itās the accounts [like the following] that get me right in the heart. They are their stories, told through their eyes It doesnāt get any better than first hand straight from the horsesā¦
warriorgirl3.wordpress.com
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Well thanks a lot, Meg.it's truly a shame that HBO doesn't play it every year anymore and that it needs to be paid for on Amazon Prime.
If anyone hasn't seen the movie, this is the Blog post that inspired it
By U.S. Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel Michael Strobl
When we arrived at Billings, I was the first off the plane. The funeral director had driven five hours up from Riverton, Wyoming, to meet us. He shook my hand as if I had personally lost a brother.
English: LCpl Chance Phelps USMC images (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I picked up my rental car and followed Chance for the five hours back to Riverton. During the long trip I imagined how my meeting with Chanceās parents would go. I didnāt know anything about Chance Phelps; not even what he looked like. I wondered about his family and what it would be like to meet them. I was very nervous about that.
When we finally arrived at the funeral home, I felt I needed to inspect Chanceās uniform to ensure everything was proper.
Earlier in the day I wasnāt sure how Iād handle this moment. Suddenly, the casket was open and I got my first look at Chance Phelps. His uniform was immaculateāa tribute to the professionalism of the Marines at Dover. I noticed that he wore six ribbons over his marksmanship badge; the senior one was his Purple Heart. I had been in the Corps for more than seventeen years, including a combat tour, and was wearing eight ribbons. This private first class, with less than a year in the Corps, had already earned six.
The next morning, I wore my dress blues and followed the hearse for the trip up to Dubois, population about 900, some ninety miles away. This was the most difficult leg of our trip for me. I was bracing for the moment when I would meet his parents and hoping I would find the right words as I presented them with Chanceās personal effects. We got to the high school about four hours before the service was to begin.
In short order I met Chanceās step-mom and father, followed by his step-dad and, at last, his mom.
I told them about our trip. I told them how, at every step, Chance was treated with respect, dignity, and honor. I didnāt know how to express to these people my sympathy for their loss and my gratitude for their sacrifice. Now, however, they were repeatedly thanking me for bringing their son home and for my service. I was humbled beyond words.
The service was a fitting tribute to this hero. When it was over, we stood as the casket was wheeled out with the family following. The casket was placed onto a horse-drawn carriage for the mile-long trip from the gym, down the main street, then up the steep hill to the cemetery. I stood alone and saluted as the carriage departed the high school.
All along the route, people had lined the street and were waving small American flags. The flags that were otherwise posted were all at half-staff. For the last quarter mile up the hill, local boy scouts, spaced about twenty feet apart, all in uniform, held large flags. At the foot of the hill, I could look up and back and see how enormous the procession was. I wondered how many people would be at this funeral if it were in, say, Detroit or Los Angelesāprobably not as many as were here in little Dubois, Wyoming.
The carriage stopped about fifteen yards from the grave. Once the entire crowd was in place, the pallbearers came to attention and began to remove the casket from the caisson. As I had done all week, I came to attention and executed a slow ceremonial salute as Chance was being transferred from one mode of transport to another.
From Dover to Philadelphia, Philadelphia to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to Billings, Billings to Riverton, and Riverton to Dubois, we had been together. Now, as I watched them carry him the final fifteen yards, I was choking up. I felt that, as long as he was still moving, he was somehow still alive. Then they positioned him over his grave. He had stopped moving.
Now, he was home to stay and I suddenly felt at once sad, relieved, and useless. It had been my honor to take Chance Phelps to his final post. Now he is on the high ground overlooking his town.
I miss him.
Taking Chance
Itās the accounts [like the following] that get me right in the heart. They are their stories, told through their eyes It doesnāt get any better than first hand straight from the horsesā¦
I wasnāt planning on crying today but here we ware.
Anytime that movie is rented or bought the fee should go to the VA, Wounded Warriors, Tunnel to Towers or something like it.
Well thanks a lot, Meg.
I wasnāt planning on crying today but here we ware.
that's not even the full essay. I was having a hard time finding it but finally did:
It is available on all of the following: HBO Max, YouTube Primetime, YouTube TV, Hulu, Amazon Prime, Fandango at Home, Apple TV, The Roku Channel, Netflix (in some areas) and Google Play Movies. Hopefully that makes it accessible to many although on a pay basis.
Go watch the movie āTaking Chanceā todayā¦
Thx for that recommendation. Great movie.
If you get a chance sometime, visit Brigadier General William C. Doyle Memorial Cemetery on Memorial Day weekend. Seeing each marker honored with a flag makes an impact.