Metal and Wood

Mal H

Staff
I was just reading George Hill's web site and saw that he included "Metal and Wood". When I got to "The Wall" I had to pause for a second, as always. It is a excellent work written by our own Dennis (the moderator of this very forum) practically on the spur of the moment a few months ago. Then I started thinking that there have been almost 500 new members since he wrote it and many of them haven't seen it, I'm sure.

So, if you haven't read this work, I encourage you to do so. If you aren't moved by it, then you're probably dead but you just don't realize it. You can find it in the Library section.
 
I agree - VERY stirring work... Dennis as you can tell is gifted with a talent for words... And this is a good example of how they can be used.

Again, I thank Dennis for letting me post it...

------------------
"America is a melting pot, the people at the bottom get burned while all the scum floats to the top."


RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE
The Critic formerly known as Kodiac
 
It never would have happened without TFL. So, it's free for the taking so long as it is not changed, and my name and TFL are on it.

The Visitor From the Past rather shames the generations of my parents and myself. Good stuff, guys. Good stuff....
 
Very good Dennis ........no great , very stirring......you ought to submit it to some local newspapers around your area . There is always a chance that it might wake somebody up.

------------------
frogman6
 
Dennis;

I have to agree with Frogman...

GREAT piece of work!

I'm going to link it on my home page.

However, I do have to pick a nit. It is not the Iwo Jima Memorial at Arlington Cemetery. There is no memorial to Iwo.

It is, point of fact, the Marine Corps War Memorial. A Memorial to all Marines who have given the ultimate in every conflict the Corps has been involved in.

But you knew that and was using the "common" name for clarity.... right? ;)


------------------
Schmit, GySgt, USMC(Ret)
NRA Life, Lodge 1201-UOSSS
"Si vis Pacem Para Bellum"




[This message has been edited by David Schmidbauer (edited August 27, 1999).]
 
Schmit,
Thanks for cutting me so much slack, but I confess I had forgotten the proper title (if I ever knew). By way of apology, I'll relate what Paul Harvey would call, "The Rest of the Story".

I was quartered at Fort Myer (South Post) in 1968 - the year DC residents rioted and burned a good portion of our capital city. We were restricted to Post because of the riots.

One Saturday morning, just to get out of the barracks, I walked the short distance to Arlington cemetery. I felt a strong need to somehow show respect for those buried there.

While I wandered around the area, I noticed a man, all alone, leaning against the Marine Corps War Memorial. It did not look like he was praying or lost in thought. I thought he was ill. I approached to see if I could help him.

He seemed very old to me at the time. He was standing with his right arm extended, leaning against the Memorial with his head on his arm. As I approached, I could see he was sobbing.

Embarrassed, I turned to leave when he must have sensed I was there. He looked up and quietly said, "I was there."

I wanted to leave but I somehow felt it would be impolite or disrespectful. I stood there uncomfortably while he gradually got himself under control.

I was a callow youth with little understanding of the Memorial, or what it represents. He began to tell me his story. He explained that he was a Marine on Iwo Jima when the American flag was raised on Mount Suribachi. He spoke of the friends and comrades he lost in the terrible fighting there.

He told me many things I did not understand at the time. He spoke of places with strange names. He spoke to me of the hardships he and his buddies had endured, the fighting, the losses. It was heart-rending to listen to, but somehow fascinating.

He must have talked with me for nearly an hour, maybe longer.

I remember thinking that here was an American hero - a real hero! A real American.

And I don't even remember his name.

As I grew older, I began to understand more of what the Old Marine had told me. Though I no longer remember his exact words, he has haunted me for over thirty years.

It's rather ironic. I went to help a sick old man, but it turned out he helped me become an American.

[This message has been edited by Dennis (edited August 28, 1999).]
 
Speechless.
I love to read, as do many members on TFL. I'm wondering why you do not write for a living Dennis.
You have a natural talent that some of us only dream of!
J
 
Dennis,

NO APPOLIGY IS NECESSARY! I knew exacly what memorial you ment, though I do think that if you had used the proper title other people wouldn't have... some might have figured it out, however, others would have been clueless.

All in all, it was probably better that you disremembered the proper title, had you used it IMO it would have detracted from your great piece of work.

I had somewhat of the same kind of expierence... to an extent. It was the Marine Corps Birthday Ball of 1990. Most of 1st Marine Division had already deployed to Operation Desert Shield. Those that was left, like us, were rapping up a training cycle (Special Ops and such).

Along about 2200 while returning from the bar with another round of drinks (key word another ) I came up from behind on an older gentlemen in Blues. I knew he had to be retired as he had white hair. What set me off was that his hair was shoulder length. I don't have anything against long hair (I, myself, have some now) but regulations state that Retired Personnel can wear their uniforms if they conform to grooming regulations.

Now, already being 2 or 2.5 sheets to the wind I took offense to the long hair and uniform combination. I came around to the front of him all ready to inform him of this discression in the most polite way I could muster given my condition.

When I got directly in front of him and he started to turned toward me I noticed this metal hanging from a ribbon of white stars on pale blue from around his neck.

As he completed his turn, I stuck out my hand and said "Sir (though he wore an Enlisted mans uniform), I'd be honored to shake your hand and Thank You."

We talked for a couple monments. After I returned to my table the 1990 Birthday Ball (and all others since) took on a different meaning.

------------------
Schmit, GySgt, USMC(Ret)
NRA Life, Lodge 1201-UOSSS
"Si vis Pacem Para Bellum"
 
Whew! Schmit!

Yeah, there are times you set the rules aside!

I met Sgt Benavides (our local Congressional Medal of Honor holder) at a function in San Antonio. Hardly had time to introduce myself and shake his hand - he was mobbed, of course. Not too long after that he made the last PCS to the Supreme Headquarters.

Met a only few fellas with some of the big medals. Those who talked with me said medals like that change a man as much or more than the acts that earned the medals.

Seems the medal holder usually gts this feeling of responsibility to conduct himself with integrity and restraint. Apparently being included into the ranks of REAL heroes can affect a guy.
-------

LadydeeJ,
Thanks for the compliment, but the reason I don't write for a living is I like to eat! :D :D


[This message has been edited by Dennis (edited August 28, 1999).]
 
Dennis, I just took the time to read this again and there are tears in my eyes-again. Over the years I have read many things that brought tears to my eyes. Rarely have I read something that brought tears to my eyes upon a second reading. Thank you.

Here's to Kurt McCray, USMC, 1st Marine Division. A big man with grizzled red hair with a slack expression on his face that seemed puzzling familiar. Then you recognize it-you saw it on the face of a piece of WWII combat art titled "The Thousand Yard Stare."

I saw that expression on Mr. McCray's face almost daily through childhood and adolescence. It is the only expression I ever saw on his face as he sat hunched and nodding over endless cups of coffee at the lunch counter at Taylor's Drug Store. If someone spoke to him, he would mumble a hurried reply to his coffee, hunch over further and nod faster. The burn scars roped up his arms into his shirt sleeves and up his neck from his collar.

I was present one day when a person from out of town loudly asked the druggist,"Why do you let that old crazy man stay in here? Don't you know he is running off customers?" My heart damn near burst with pride at Dr. Taylor's reply,"Customers who go elsewhere because of Kurt is custom I don't need. That man is a veteran and casualty of Guadalcanal.
And I don't need your custom, sir."

[This message has been edited by Spartacus (edited August 29, 1999).]
 
Back
Top