Veterans Day Speech in Easton 2013

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I was asked to be the main speaker at our town’s Veterans Day observance, and this is the result. I might also mention a couple of tidbits: at the event, during part of the program, they had a WWII vet, a Korean vet, and a Vietnam vet on stage, representing all the vets from those wars. After my speech the WWII vet (in uniform; Army captain; 91 years old) came up to me and told me how much he enjoyed the speech. He then asked if I had a recording of it. I said no, that this was the only time it had been delivered. He said I should have a recording of it. Later, I figured his eyesight might be bad enough that he can only listen to books, rather than read them, so I planned to make a recording for him and get it to him on CD. In the meantime, I got a call from the NJROTC instructor saying that the WWII vet (Ernst Selig, who is also head of the Maryland Eastern Shore chapter of the Military Order of the Purple Heart) wanted to get in touch with me. I called Ernst, and he wanted the recording so he could turn it over to the local radio station and have them broadcast it throughout Veterans Day. Bottom line is they blew him off, and we’ll try for next year, now that I’ve recorded it in several formats. Anyway, I was trying to say it was no big deal, and he said, “I just think the speech is very important. It’s the best speech I’ve heard since Churchill, and that was a little more than a few weeks ago.”

He’s still sharp as a tack and a pleasure to talk to.

Second bit: I played golf today with several of my USNA Classmates. One of them said that he’d passed my speech along to his kids. His daughter is in a PhD program and works with a group of veterans. She read them the speech. They said that the speech illustrated exactly how they felt, but they hadn’t been able to put it into words.
High praise, indeed.
Micro

Veterans Day in Easton 2013
Thank you Mayor Willey. And thank you also to LCDR Hammond, Petty Officer Gardner, Cadet LT Remaniak, and the cadets of the Easton High School NJROTC for putting together this program, with the support of the American Legion Posts 70 and 77, VFW Post 5118, the town of Easton, and the Easton Downtown Partnership. We veterans greatly appreciate all your hard work and contributions.

Veterans, Ladies and Gentlemen: November 11th is Veterans Day. In 1918, a cease fire was called to end World War I at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. In 1938, November 11th was declared a legal holiday, named Armistice Day, to honor the veterans of World War I. In 1954, President Eisenhower issued a Proclamation stating: “In the intervening years, the United States has been involved in two other great military conflicts, adding millions of veterans living and dead to the honor rolls of this nation. In order to expand the significance of that commemoration and in order that a grateful nation might pay appropriate homage to veterans of all its wars who have contributed so much to the preservation of this Nation, the Congress has … changed the name of the holiday to Veterans Day….”
So, that’s why we’re here this evening—to pay appropriate homage to veterans of all our wars.

But please bear with me a moment—if you’re a veteran of Vietnam, please raise your hand. You may not have heard it before, but “Welcome Home.” Contrary to what most people have been told, the only battle we ever lost was here at home.

It’s interesting that 93% of the people in the United States are not veterans. So, it may behoove us to explain to them—and remind ourselves—what veterans are all about. I like the following definition, which was written by an unknown author:
A veteran is someone who, at one point in his/her life, wrote a blank check made payable to "The United States of America," for an amount of "up to and including my life."
I’ve noted over the past few years that a great many veterans that did not stay in the military for a career still strongly identify with the branch of service that they were in for such a short period. They participate in veterans organizations. They may be at an advanced age, yet they still wear a ball cap or have a personalized license plate or sticker on their car that identifies their branch of service. On one day each year, they are suddenly dedicated football fans, rooting on their favorite, on the day of the Army-Navy Game (Beat Army). They haven’t been in uniform for sixty years, but they still identify with that service. Why is that? What was so special about just a couple of years out of a full life of work, family, hobbies, trials and tribulations?

Perhaps I can explain some of that.
Every veteran went through boot camp or the equivalent. It wasn’t fun for anyone, but we’re proud of having done it. They made us do things that none of us would choose to do, given a choice. In the doing, we discovered we could do things that we wouldn’t have believed possible and wouldn’t have ever tried to do, left to our own devices. We climbed ropes, scaled walls, held our breaths, ran, jumped, crawled, swam, and marched. We were humbled. We learned what teamwork meant and what it could achieve, if we just worked together and didn’t care who got the credit. And we learned what pride was really all about. We learned what it was like to have something worthy of pride, and each time we accomplished something else, that pride increased. Pride in something bigger than ourselves.
When we went home on leave the first time, we found that our friends were still doing the same things, and we had, perhaps, outgrown them. We were different. And we were better for it.

Then, for many of us, came the day we trained for. We went into combat. We learned what it was like to have someone try to kill you. Make no mistake, that is a profound moment. But, more important, we learned how we reacted to that. Many of us learned to run toward the sound of gunfire, rather than away.
You know, many of us have been privileged to witness acts of heroism, but I’ve never known anyone that thought he was a hero. He was just doing his duty. He did what his buddies expected him to do—counted on him to do. He couldn’t possibly let them down. Even if it cost him his life.
During lengthy deployments, occasionally someone would have a family crisis and went home on emergency leave, yet they couldn’t wait to get back to the action. Not because they were irrational but because that was where their duty lay; that was where a squadron mate was taking up the slack while he was gone; that was where he was supposed to be, and he felt guilty being away, enjoying a few days of “normal” life, even in the midst of a family crisis, while his buddies might be getting wounded or captured or worse. He needed to be there. It was his duty.

Were we scared in combat? Yes, of course. But not terrified into inaction. Not frozen at the controls. Doing our duty.
That is reason for pride. And that lasts the rest of your life. It is something that no one can possibly know until they’ve been through it. You cannot possibly know how you will react when the chips are down until the chips are down.

Veterans know something about themselves that very few others know about themselves. That knowledge makes life more precious and, most often, is reason, even in the toughest of times, to fall back on that justifiable pride and say, “I know what I’m made of.” No one can take that away.
We veterans may feel that we love our country more than others do because we’ve seen the countries of our enemies. And we never want to be like them. We’ve seen our buddies die doing their duty in service to our nation, and we will not permit that to be in vain. We are serious about patriotism, respecting the flag, honoring our National Anthem, protecting our rights and the Constitution. We took an oath, “to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic”. And that oath didn’t have an expiration date.

There are veterans, and then there are warriors. I’m reminded of a story a friend of mine, another fighter pilot, tells. I’ll preface it with saying that fighter pilots are known for ample self-confidence, and we have a tendency to be, shall we say, colorful. We’re hard chargers, indestructible; we work hard, and we play hard. As Adolf Galland of the German Luftwaffe said, “Only the spirit of attack, born in a brave heart, will bring success to any fighter aircraft, no matter how highly developed it may be.” My friend says that some of the fighter pilots in the air wing got into some trouble and were called before the air wing commander, who was quite upset. The commander said, “I don’t know what to do with you guys. If I had my way, I’d put all fighter pilots on an island far from land. That island would have steep cliffs and only one pier where a boat could be landed, but that pier would be blocked by a huge sheet of glass. At the edge of the glass would be a sign and a hammer. The sign would read, ‘In case of war, break glass.’”
That conundrum of what to do with warriors in peacetime isn’t anything new. For at least a couple of hundred years, the slang term for a British soldier has been “Tommy Atkins” or just “Tommy.” No one seems certain of the origin, but that’s what they’re called. In 1892, Rudyard Kipling wrote a poem entitled “Tommy.” Here are some excerpts;
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play…
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the troopship’s on the tide…
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll…
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind…
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

I’ve been places with signs in the windows saying, “Dogs and sailors keep out!” Yet, today, we see yellow ribbon stickers on cars saying “We Support Our Troops,” but, all too often, the support stops there. I maintain that what the troops want, more than anything else, is for us to believe in what they’re doing. If they’re going to risk their lives, it better be for something worthwhile. And, as long as they’re in harm’s way, we need to believe that what they’re doing is worth us cashing that blank check they left behind.
As I mentioned, there are veterans and there are warriors. We veterans have been in the company of warriors, and we’ve treasured it. In 2006, Stephen Pressfield wrote a book about Alexander the Great called The Afghan Campaign. In it, he quotes a Macedonian requiem:
In the company of warriors, I have no need to explain myself.
In the company of warriors, everybody understands.
In the company of warriors, I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not.
Or strike that pose, however well-intentioned, that is expected by those who have not known me under arms.
In the company of warriors all my crimes are forgiven.
I am safe.
I am known.
I am home.
In the company of warriors.

We veterans have ties to warriors throughout history. We understand them. We have a bond. Most people don’t know the story behind the most famous such connection. It actually occurred in the year 1415. King Henry V of England took an Army to modern-day France to take possession of land that England claimed. At a famous battle in a muddy, plowed field near Agincourt on October 25th, a holiday known as St. Crispin’s Day, King Henry, leading an army estimated to be outnumbered five-to-one soundly defeated the French. The French lost thousands of men; the English lost 112.

In the hours before the battle, Henry was asked about waiting to try to get more men rather than fight against such odds. Knowing that reinforcements couldn’t reach them in time, he knew he needed to inspire his men. As recorded in 1599 by Shakespeare, King Henry said:
The fewer men, the greater share of honour…
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
Even though they were already desperately short of men, he said that, if anyone didn’t have the stomach to fight, he wanted them to leave. In fact, he would give them permission to leave and pay for their passage home because:
We would not die in that man’s company…
Then he said:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d …
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day…
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
So, that is a tiny glimpse of what it means to be a veteran.
To my brothers: thank you for your service, and thank you for honoring all of us with your friendship, your sacrifice, your citizenship, and your presence here tonight.

by Capt Dave Lovelady, USN, Ret. His call sign is Micro