In Remembrance of Sacrifice by Mackenzie Crowne

Please excuse me for veering from the usual book format post, but today is Memorial Day. A day to honor the brave soldiers who stood on the line so that we may sleep in peace at night and paid the ultimate price. While I am lucky enough not to have lost loved ones in battle, so many have. All around us are families who grieve for those who have given all for our freedom. Then there are the vets who forever mourn the loss of their brothers and sisters in arms, warriors who served our country with honor and distinction. As we gather along parade routes or at back yard BBQs surrounded by family, let us reflect on the immense sacrifices behind today’s celebrations.

This essay from a 3^rd grader says it perfectly.

As the flowers rest on the decorated graves and the sunlight shines on the beautiful sailboats, Uncle Sam whispers in my ear about how we should care for the soldiers and remember the ones that have died. Swimming pools open, BBQs fry. Today is the day to think of what they have done for us. There are blurs of red, white and blue marching down the street and flags are lowered at half-mast. But we should always remember and never forget what set us free, from this very day on.

© 2001 Ali M., 3rd Grader, Academy Elementary School, Madison, Connecticut.

Memorial Day - 2016 by Diane Burton

Sometimes we take federal holidays for granted or only think about how great it is to have a day off work. We forget the reason behind designating a particular day a holiday. Memorial Day's origin goes back to 1868. The purpose was for the nation to decorate the graves of those soldiers who died in the Civil War. Since, it’s expanded to include all service people who died defending us.

This picture, originally posted on Facebook, really touched me. It’s a vivid reminder of the families who have suffered a loss that only those who have suffered a similar loss can fully understand. I haven’t, but my heart hurts for those who have. Spouses, parents, children of our fallen heroes gave a sacrifice as great as the soldier who died. Maybe greater. They live with the heartache every day while the soldier has gone to his/her reward.

My dad and his brothers fought in WWII, one of my grandfathers in WWI, a great-great grandfather in the Civil War, and a multi-great grandfather in the Revolutionary War. An uncle and a good friend were police officers. Their service ensured that we are still a country of freedoms. Freedoms we often take for granted, forgetting that many people in this world don't have them.

Post-apocalyptic movies and books show us what happens when society breaks down. Law and order is gone. Chaos reigns. Those with the power and weapons rule. Might makes right. Heaven help the rest. While I love movies and books, those that show the disintegration of civilization make me so uncomfortable I can’t watch or read them. The reality is too horrifying to contemplate.

While we enjoy our three-day weekend, have our picnics, kick off the beginning of summer, maybe we can take a moment and thank those who died protecting our freedoms.

Diane Burton writes romantic suspense, mysteries, and science fiction romance. She blogs here on the 30th of the month, on Paranormal Romantics on the 13th, and on her own blog on Mondays.

Honoring Those Who Have Gone Before Us

--By Vonnie Davis
Last weekend Calvin and I went to an Indian Powwow (Monacan Indians, Amherst, Virginia). Both of his grandmothers were members of this tribe. There we viewed Native American tribal dances and examined hand-made crafts that were for sale. On one vender’s table I found a stack of papers on each of which someone had printed a poem.

I was struck by its beauty, both in imagery and thought. I had never heard of the poem, but after Googling it, I found it has been around for decades, a favorite for eulogies. I think it a powerful, comforting piece. 

Don’t stand at my grave and weep
For I’m not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

 

AS YOU CELEBRATE MEMORIAL DAY, REMEMBER

OUR FREEDOM DID NOT COME CHEAPLY.

REMEMBER OUR FALLEN MILITARY PERSONNEL.

(To my grandson serving in Afghanistan: Stay safe, Joshua)

MEMORIAL DAY - LETTER FROM THE TRENCHES

LOVE LETTERS FROM THE TRENCHES - Margaret Tanner

With memorial day coming up on the 28^th May, I thought I might post a letter written by Captain Ross Calvert to his wife Harry. It is written in 1916, from the trenches of France. (Ross and Harry are the hero and heroine from my novel, Daring Masquerade.)

Dear Harry,

I have received several letters from you. Keep up the good work, you can't know how anxiously I wait to receive them. At mail call it is awful not receiving anything. The disappointment is absolutely crushing. I am one of the lucky ones. I don't think there has been a time when I have not received something, although some of the chaps are not so lucky. There are a few in my unit who have received nothing. Must be terribly disheartening for them.

We are in France as you will guess. I spent a couple of weeks in England, or Blighty, as the men call it over here. Didn't see much of it, spent most of my time training at Salisbury Downs.

There is a church called Notre Dame des Brebieres in Albert that was damaged by the German shells in 1915. A golden Madonna lies at an angle across it, looks ready to topple off at any moment, but somehow she still manages to cling on. It is a fascinating sight really, and has caused a lot of superstitious talk. The English soldiers say the war will end when she falls, while the Germans think who ever knocks it down, will win the war.

I did get to see Paris, had a couple of days leave and went to the Moulin Rouge. Saw the can can a very naughty dance where the chorus girls kick their legs up high and lift their skirts up over their heads to show off their fancy knickers. Some of the young soldiers nearly caused a riot, well you can guess, I suppose, how it affected them.

Don't worry, I enjoyed watching them, (what man wouldn't), but that was all.

Give my love to Mrs. Bates and Hughie, tell Jack I'll be writing soon.

All my love. Ross. 

                                        

Ross opened Harry's letter and a few tendrils of dark baby hair almost fell out. A separate sheet of paper displayed a tiny brown handprint with a little note underneath. I mixed some cocoa into a paste and dunked his hand in it. How small it was, and how clever Harry was to think of it.

My darling Ross,

I hope you heard from Andrew about little Gilbert's birth, just a few days after the 'No' vote for conscription. I didn't have too bad a time of it and we are both fit and well now. Elsie was a great help. The doctor was nice. I thought I would be embarrassed about, well you know, but I wasn't. He said he had delivered dozens of babies. He was fairly old. The young doctor has enlisted in the Medical Corps, thank goodness.

Mrs. Bates' arthritis is so bad, she doesn't do anything much. Elsie and I are having a competition to see who can knit the most things for you and Ted. Loser has to do the ironing on their own for a month. My goodness, Ross, I hate ironing, so I am knitting my hardest but I think Elsie will win.

Everything is quiet here, like Jack says, we are just doing the main things; there's only us and Hughie now. Alf is still riding the boundary and Mr. Wu works non-stop in his garden.

They are still taking some timber but are selective in the trees they do chop down, not like you know who, he took everything. The grass has grown back where he burnt it. They use the track, but not as much. Jack planted some fast growing trees on our side of the track to block it off, so it is not really too bad.

Well, my darling, I know you said don't write about the war or politics because the letter might be censored, so I won't. We will have a quiet Christmas, not much to celebrate with you being away, but next year, hopefully, you will be home and we will have the best Christmas ever.

Baby is starting to cry. I am feeding him on demand. I don't care what people say about four-hourly feeds, he knows when he is hungry. Your son has a good pair of lungs, not that he cries much. I can't stand to hear him so I pick him up, that's if I get there before Jack. He spoils him something dreadful, but it is lovely to see them together.

Oh, if only you could come home to us for Christmas, I would never ask for anything else. It would be the best present ever. The doilies you sent are lovely, I used them straight away. It makes you seem closer somehow. Mrs. Bates and Elsie liked their handkerchiefs.

Well, my darling, I must go. Love and kisses from me and little Gilbert. Harry. She had drawn a circle on the bottom of the page. This is where I kissed the letter, she told him. He closed his eyes and touched his mouth to the spot, trying to pretend he was kissing Harry's soft, sweet mouth.

Daring Masquerade is out on Kindle now.

http://www.amazon.com/Daring-Masquerade-ebook/dp/B0081CJECY/ref=sr_1_10?s=books&ie=UTG8&qid=13364772888&sr=1-10

Memorial Day is for Every Soldier by Barbara Edwards

The Trail at Minute Man National Park

Memorial Day is for every soldier in every conflict. It’s about more than parades, red poppies and barbeques.  Memorial Day honors sacrifice. So visiting the Minute Man National Park in Lexington-Concord Massachusetts has special meaning.

 The shot heard around the world happened in a tiny village where a handful of men gave to the 350 million Americans alive today their freedom. 

As I followed their path, my heart was in my throat. We don’t appreciate the struggle they endured. They lost their farms and businesses, their men died. Their families went hungry while they fought.

Rebuilt bridge 

The area is charming with a few period houses still open. The park has two visitors’ centers and interpretive guides dressed in period attire. The path followed by those resolute men goes for miles. I’m going back with my younger grandchildren. I want them to know where they got their freedom.

Would you be willing to sacrifice so much? I hope I would.

I came from a family that fought. My Father’s and Mother’s brothers (seven in total) all went overseas in World War Two. They marched through France and Italy, North Africa, Japan and the Pacific Islands. They serve on ships.  My Father built ships at the Brooklyn Navy Yards. My Aunt Edna was a riveter putting airplane wings together.

Interpretive guide 

My daughter and her husband served in the United States Army. Two of my sons and a daughter-in-law served in the United States Navy. My grandson and granddaughter are in the Navy with number three in the early enlistment program for next September.

I am the grandchild of emigrants. My family appreciates the freedoms here. They escaped the religious suppression, forced military service and virtual slavery of a serf type life. 

I love this country.

Minute Man Statue at the Park, with my husband Bill

My husband’s family has been here since the 1600s. One of his ancestors joined the minutemen. A company of armed men journeyed overland from New Haven, Connecticut to Lexington in two days, an incredible feat. My eyes fill with tears as I picture their hardships. It was all for my family and me. And yours

Take the time to visit The Minute Man National Park. Walk where those patriots marched and died. Listen to the lectures and learn why you enjoy the freedom you do.

Salute the flag and stand during the National Anthem. 

Barbara Edwards at monument

Put flowers on the grave of a soldier on Memorial Day. 

Say “Thank You” to our military.

And register to vote. 

Use the greatest privilege they sacrificed for: Vote for a free and responsible government. 

Visit my website: https://www.barbaraedwards.net

MEMORIAL DAY - MARGARET TANNER

MEMORIAL DAY – A BATTLEFIELD SCENE

Call it blatant self promotion if you will, but I thought as it is only a couple of weeks to Memorial Day in the US, I would post this battlefield excerpt from my latest romance novel, Daring Masquerade, which is set during the 1^st World War.

 In Australia we remember our war dead, on ANZAC Day, 25^th April and also Remembrance Day/Armistice Day on 11^th November.

ANZAC Day commemorates the landing at Gallipoli in Turkey by The Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZACS) on the 25^TH April, 1915. And the 25^th April is now sacred. It is when we remember the brave men and women who paid the supreme sacrifice in the 1^st World War and in subsequent wars, 2^nd World War, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. These battlefields are also stained with American blood, as you would be well aware.

DARING MASQUERADE – Out on Kindle from Books We Love Publishing

The third battle for Ypres had begun. The first and second Australian Divisions marched through the ruins of Ypres in Flanders, and fought their way along the Menin Road ridge. Their ultimate destination was Passchendale.

It had been raining steadily, the front had turned into a sea of mud, criss-crossed with miles of concrete German blockhouses. A German arc of machine gun fire dominated the landscape and the casualties were terrible.
Ross despaired of the carnage ever ending. After one battle another always followed. Men died or were wounded; many simply disappeared into the mud.
Reinforcements came and went, followed by more reinforcements. Few old faces were left now. Increasingly, he feared he might never leave this chamber of horrors and return to Harry at Devil’s Ridge. Never get the chance to utter the words, ‘I love you,’ to his wife.
How much longer could his luck hold out? He had suffered several minor shrapnel wounds that only required a dressing.
On the morning of the fourth of October, 1917, Ross’ unit was sent to Broodseinde Ridge. Forty minutes before the attack, soldiers waiting in the rear a mile behind the line saw white and yellow German flares through the hazy drizzle.
0530 hours.  Heavy trench mortars fell on Ross’s men as they sheltered in shell holes. At 0600 hours, the British artillery barrage opened up and he waited. Another attack—more casualties in this endless saga of death and suffering.
White tapes marked the jump off area. When the signal for attack came, he urged his men on.
“Come on, come on.”
He stood up and started running. Officers led by example, he remembered from training. The men charged forward now, yelling and screaming.
A line of troops rose from some shell holes a little in front of them, and Ross suddenly realized they were Germans mounting a counter attack. Too late to do anything but keep on going.
He did not see where the firing came from, but felt a thud, first in one leg then the other. As he sank to his knees, he felt a bullet slamming into his chest. He toppled forward.  Soldiers ran over him. Boots pressing into his back forced him deeper into the mud.
This is the end. I’ll never see Harry again.
He regained consciousness. It was daylight. How long had he been lying out in no-man’s land? Groggily, he got to his hands and knees. Pain and exhaustion racked his body. Breathing was agony. The landscape see-sawed. Shell fire echoed in his ears.
What’s the use? All I have to do is close my eyes and sink back into the mud and oblivion.
Too tired to fight any more, he started slipping away. His body floated upwards and the pain disappeared.
“Ross, don’t leave me. Fight Ross, fight for me.”
“Harry?” He opened his eyes but he was alone.  Only dead men, twisted and grotesque lay out here in no-man’s land with him.
Did he want to leave Harry a widow at twenty? Never hold his son? Oh, God, he couldn’t die like a dog out here. His body might never be recovered. Harry would wait and mourn, but keep on hoping for years. She would never hear the words ‘I love you,’ fall from his lips. What a bloody fool he had been obsessing over Virginia, instead of letting himself fall in love with Harry. Now it was too late.  She would never know the true depth of his feelings for her. He couldn’t do it to her. He must survive.

http://www.amazon.com/Daring-Masquerade-ebook/dp/B0081CJECY/ref=sr_1_10?s=books&ie=UTG8&qid=13364772888&sr=1-10