Take a knee

Source: Facebook re-posted this morning 12/11/2019

Joe B. Rogers

July 30, 2018

Take a knee...

I don't think I've ever read anything more powerful than this piece.

It was written by Ted Nugent

Take a little trip to Valley Forge in January. Hold a musket ball in your Fingers and imagine it piercing your flesh and breaking a bone or two.

There won't be a doctor or trainer to assist you until after the battle, so Just wait your turn. Take your cleats and socks off to get a real Experience.

Then, take a knee on the beach in Normandy where man after American man Stormed the beach, even as the one in front of him was shot to pieces, the Very sea stained with American blood. The only blockers most had were the Dead bodies in front of them, riddled with bullets from enemy fire.

Take a knee in the sweat soaked jungles of Vietnam. From Khe Sanh to Saigon, anywhere will do. Americans died in all those jungles. There was no Playbook that told them what was next, but they knew what flag they Represented. When they came home, they were protested as well, and spit on For reasons only cowards know.

Take another knee in the blood drenched sands of Fallujah in 110-degree Heat. Wear your Kevlar helmet and battle dress. Your number won't be Printed on it unless your number is up! You'll need to stay hydrated but There won't be anyone to squirt Gatorade into your mouth. You're on your Own.

There are a lot of places to take a knee where Americans have given their Lives all over the world. When you use the banner under which they fought as a source for your displeasure, you dishonor the memories of those who
Bled for the very freedoms you have. That's what the red stripes mean. It Represents the blood of those who spilled a sea of it defending your Liberty.

While you're on your knee, pray for those that came before you, not on a Manicured lawn striped and printed with numbers to announce every inch of Ground taken, but on nameless hills and bloodied beaches and sweltering
Forests and bitter cold mountains, every inch marked by an American life Lost serving that flag you protest.

No cheerleaders, no announcers, no coaches, no fans, just American men and Women, delivering the real fight against those who chose to harm us, blazing a path so you would have the right to "take a knee." You haven't Any inkling of what it took to get you where you are, but your "protest" is
Duly noted. Not only is it disgraceful to a nation of real heroes, it Serves the purpose of pointing to your ingratitude for those who chose to Defend you under that banner that will still wave long after your jersey is Retired.

If you really feel the need to take a knee, come with me to church on Sunday and we'll both kneel before Almighty God. We'll thank Him for Preserving this country for as long as He has. We'll beg forgiveness for our Ingratitude for all He has provided us. We'll appeal to Him for Understanding and wisdom. We'll pray for liberty and justice for all, Because He is the one who provides those things. But there will be no Protest. There will only be gratitude for His provision and a plea for His Continued grace and mercy on the land of the free and the home of the Brave.

It goes like this, GOD BLESS AMERICA

I was a sailor once

Bradley D. Stockham

August 24, 2019 

In remembrance of my dear departed friend Chief Ross Ward who sent me this share.

AN ODE TO THE SAILOR SO PROUD

I liked standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the globe.

I liked the sounds of the Navy - the piercing trill of the boatswains pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the quarterdeck, harsh, and the strong language and laughter of sailors at work.

I liked Navy vessels -- plodding fleet auxiliaries and amphibs, sleek submarines and steady solid aircraft carriers. I liked the proud names of Navy ships: Midway, Lexington, Saratoga, Coral Sea, Antietam, Valley Forge memorials of great battles won and tribulations overcome.

I liked the lean angular names of Navy "tin-cans" and escorts, mementos of heroes who went before us. And the others - - San Jose, San Diego, Los Angeles, St. Paul, Chicago, Oklahoma City, named for our cities.

I liked the tempo of a Navy band. I liked liberty call and the spicy scent of a foreign port. I even liked the never ending paperwork and all hands working parties as my ship filled herself with the multitude of supplies,

 both mundane and to cut ties to the land and carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where there was water to float her.

I liked Sailors, Officers, Chiefs, & Enlisted Men from all parts of the land, farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England, from the big cities, the mountains and the prairies, from all walks of life. I trusted and depended on them as they trusted and depended on me -- for professional competence, for comradeship, for strength and courage. In a word, they were "shipmates"; then and forever.

I liked the surge of adventure in my heart, when the word was passed: ''Now Hear This'' "Now station the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to quarters for leaving port," and I liked the infectious thrill of sighting home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pier side The work was hard and dangerous; the going rough at times; the parting from loved ones painful, but the companionship of robust Navy laughter, the "all for one and one for all" philosophy of the sea was ever present.

I liked the fierce and dangerous activity on the flight deck of aircraft carriers, earlier named for battles won but sadly now named for politicians. Enterprise, Independence, Boxer, Princeton and oh so many more, some lost in battle, and sadly many scrapped.

I liked the names of the aircraft and helicopters; Skyraider, Intruder, Sea King, Phantom, Skyhawk, Demon, Skywarrior, Corsair, and many more that bring to mind offensive and defensive orders of battle. I liked the excitement of an alongside replenishment as my ship slid in alongside the oilier and the cry of "Standby to receive shot lines" prefaced the hard work of rigging span wires and fuel hoses echoed across the narrow gap of water between the ships and welcomed the mail and fresh milk, fruit and vegetables that sometimes accompanied the fuel. I liked the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work, as flying fish flitted across the wave tops and sunset gave way to night.

I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead and range lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk and joined with the mirror of stars overhead. And I liked drifting off to sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that told me my ship was alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch would keep me safe.

I liked quiet mid-watches with the aroma of strong coffee -- the lifeblood of the Navy permeating everywhere. And I liked hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank speed kept all hands on a razor edge of alertness.

I liked the sudden electricity of "General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations," followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the resounding thump of watertight doors as the ship transformed herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful workplace to a weapon of war -- ready for anything. And I liked the sight of space-age equipment manned by youngsters clad in dungarees and sound-powered phones that their grandfathers would still recognize.

I liked the traditions of the Navy and the men and now women who made them. I liked the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John Paul Jones and Burke. A sailor could find much in the Navy: comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman's trade. An adolescent could find adulthood.

In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, we still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods - the impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed green water surging over the bow. And then there will come again a faint whiff of stack gas, a faint echo of engine and rudder orders, a vision of the bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm, a refrain of hearty laughter in the wardroom and chief's quarters and mess decks. Gone ashore for good, we grow humble about our Navy days, when the seas were a part of us and a new port of call was ever over the horizon.

Remembering this, we stand taller and say,

"I was a sailor once."