Subject: FW: A salute to our Canadian Soldiers

I sat in my seat of the Boeing 767 waiting for
everyone to hurry and stow their carry-ons and grab
a seat so we could start what I was sure to be a
long , uneventful flight home. With the huge
capacity and slow moving people taking their time to
stuff luggage far! too big for the overhead and never
paying much attention to holding up the growing line
behind them, I simply shook my head knowing that
this flight was not starting out very well.

I was anxious to get home to see my loved ones so I
was focused on "my" issues and just felt like
standing up and yelling for some of these clowns to
get their act together. I knew I couldn't say a word
so I just thumbed thru the magazine from the seat
pocket in front of me. You know it's really getting
rough when you resort to the over priced, useless
sky mall crap to break the monotony. With everyone
finally seated, we just sat there with the cabin
door open and no one in any hurry to get us going
although we were well past the scheduled take off
time.

No wonder the airline industry is in trouble I told
myself. Just then, the attendant came on the
intercom to inform us all that we were being
delayed. The entire plane let out a collective
groan. She resumed speaking to say "We are holding
the aircraft for some very special people who are on
their way to the plane and the delay shouldn't be
more than 5 minutes. The word came after waiting six
times as long as we were promised that "I" was
finally going to be on my way home.

Why the hoopla over "these" folks? I was expecting
some celebrity or sport figure to be the reason for
the hold up.........Just get their butts in a seat
and lets hit the gas I thought.

The attendant came back on the speaker to announce
in a loud and excited voice that we were being
joined by several Canadian Soldiers returning home
from Afghanistan!!! Just as they walked on board,
the entire plane erupted into applause. The men were
a bit taken by surprise by the 340 people cheering
for them as they searched for their seats. They were
having their hands shook and touched by almost
everyone who was within an arm's distance of them as
they passed down the aisle. One elderly woman
kissed the hand of one of the Soldiers as he
passed by her.

The applause, whistles and cheering didn't stop for
a long time. When we were finally airborne, "I" was
not the only civilian checking his conscience as to
the delays in "me" getting home, finding my easy
chair, a cold beverage and the remote in my hand.
These men had done for all of us and I had been
complaining silently about "me" and "my" issues. I
took for granted the everyday freedoms I enjoy and
the conveniences of the Canadian way of life I
took for granted, others paid the price for my
ability to moan and complain about a few minutes
delay to "me" those heroes going home to their loved
ones.

I attempted to get my selfish outlook back in order
and minutes before we landed I suggested to the
attendant that she announce over the speaker a
request for everyone to remain in their seats until
our hero's were allowed to gather their things and
be first off the plane. The cheer! s and applause
continued until the last Soldier stepped off and we
all rose to go about our too often taken for granted
everyday freedoms......... I felt proud of them. I
felt it an honor and a privilege to be among the first to
welcome them home and say Thank You for a job well
done. I vowed that I will never forget that flight
nor the lesson learned.

I can't say it enough, THANK YOU to those Veterans
and active servicemen and women who may read this
and a prayer for those who cannot because they are
no longer with us.

GOD BLESS!! WELCOME HOME! AND THANKS FOR A JOB WELL

DONE !!!!!

posted 11-09-2005 08:33 PM         

http://www.interviewwithgod.com/patriotic/highband.htm

posted 11-09-2005 09:19 PM         

Here is my annual post:

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a
jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence
inside them:a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg
or
perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery
of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe
wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet just by looking.

What is a vet? He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi
>Arabia sweating
two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run
out of fuel.

He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose
overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic
scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep
sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.

He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't
come back AT ALL.

He is the Army drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved
countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members
into Soldiers, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.

He/she is the pilot/crewmember/ground support person that keeps airpower
an effective tool of national policy.

He is the carrier pilot landing on a rolling, pitching, heaving flight
during a rain squall in the pitch-black night of the Tonkin Gulf.

He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals
with a prosthetic hand.

He is the career quartermaster (Army Supply Corps) who watches the
ribbons and medals pass him by.

He is the Navy SEAL who humps endless miles of burning sand for three
days with no sleep or food and very little water to designate targets for
laser guided bombs or swims through a disease infested swamp and crawls
over
poisonous snakes under the cover of darkness to conduct intelligence on a
foreign government hostile to our own and our cherished way of life.

He is the annonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence
at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all
the
anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield
or in the ocean's sunless deep.

He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and
aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes
all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares
come.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who
offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country,
and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice
theirs.

He is a soldier, a sailor, an airman and a savior and a sword against the
darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on
behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just
lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases
it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were
awarded.

Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU"

Author Unknown