Re: Stuff & Nonsense
« Reply #12765 on: May 22nd, 2015, 08:48am »
GOOD MORNING Z, SWAMPRAT AND ALL OF OUR UFOCASEBOOKERS
Lake Pepin town hopes its own Loch Ness monster draws the curious
By Richard Chin 5/21/2015
Is having a monster in the neighborhood good for business?
A couple of small towns in the region are hoping so, thanks in part to a Twin Cities author and paranormal researcher.
Chad Lewis makes a living writing guidebooks like "The Minnesota Road Guide to Haunted Locations" and "The Minnesota Road Guide to Mysterious Creatures."
In 2013, the Minneapolis man co-wrote a book about the "Van Meter Visitor," a giant half-man, half-animal creature with batlike wings, a glowing horn, three-toed feet and bad body odor that supposedly emerged from an abandoned mine and terrorized the small town of Van Meter, Iowa, for several days in the fall of 1903.
Renewed interest in the bizarre old tale led to Lewis helping Van Meter organize a "Visitor Day's Festival," including a monster hunt walking tour.
"It was successful for us," said Van Meter resident Rachel Backstrom, who was on the monster festival planning committee. The town of about 1,000 people drew about 300 people to the second annual event in September, Backstrom said.
"We pretty much sold out our T-shirts," she said.
Now Lewis is doing something similar for Lake Pepin, south of the Twin Cities. He and co-author Noah Voss recently published "Pepie: The Lake Monster of the Mississippi River" about a creature supposedly lurking in the waters of Lake Pepin.
On Sunday, they're helping Lake City, Minn., put on Pepie Fest, "the world's largest lake monster hunt and festival," according to Lewis.
"There's not a lot of lake monster festivals around the world," Lewis admits.
$50,000 REWARD MAKES WAVES
Tales of a sea serpent swimming in Lake Pepin supposedly reach back to native Dakota people and early pioneers and explorers. For example, a "Book of Days Almanac" published by the Minnesota Historical Society reports that a strange creature was seen swimming in the lake on April 28, 1871.
But local residents didn't get around to monetizing the mysterious monster until the 21st century.
That began in 2008, when Lake City businessman Larry Nielson, owner and captain of the "Pearl of the Lake," a 125-passenger paddle wheel excursion boat, decided to offer a $50,000 reward for evidence of the existence of Pepie.
According to Nielson's website, pepie.net, the reward will be paid out if someone can produce a photograph or "samples of skin or fins that can be studied for a DNA analysis."
The evidence has to be verified by University of Minnesota biologists "as a previously uncatalogued creature living in Lake Pepin," according to the website
Prospective hunters, however, are forbidden from harming Pepie, according to the site.
Nielson said the monster reward has help put Lake City on the map for something besides being the birthplace of water skiing.
"The Chinese government has contacted me," he said. "I was interviewed by the largest radio station in Tokyo, Japan, for 20 minutes."
'I WASN'T ALONE,' DIVER SAYS
Nielson said Pepie publicity also has inspired recent television features and search expeditions.
"There's been a couple of them taking it pretty seriously," he said.
"I think there's something to it," said Heidi Freier, a western Wisconsin resident who describes herself as an amateur filmmaker and an armchair cryptozoologist.
Freier said she and a team of friends launched a Pepie hunt over Labor Day weekend in 2009, including underwater cameras, sonar equipment and a scuba diver.
Cory Breault, the diver, said during the search the fish finder sonar on his boat indicated a large object -- 30 feet long and 6 feet wide -- about 35 feet down.
He dived down to take a look.
Breault, 42, of Somerset, Wis., said he normally never dives in the Mississippi River because, "It's scary, murky and there's nothing to see."
But underwater that day, "It just felt I wasn't alone."
Breault said he caught a glimpse of something big swimming very close to him and then taking off. He said the turbulence spun him around under the water.
"It was bigger than me," he said. "This was nothing like any fish I've ever seen."
"I shot to the surface, freaked out," he said.
Alas, "We didn't get it on camera," Breault said.
But Freier said footage she shot of the hunt has been used in a Discovery Channel show. She said she hopes to complete a documentary film about the experience called "Loch Ness Monster of the Mississippi."
PEPIE MINTS FOR SALE
Pepie promoters rarely fail to point out that Lake Pepin is similar in size to Scotland's Loch Ness, another supposed lake-monster sanctuary, although Loch Ness is much deeper, more than 700 feet, compared to only 60 to 70 feet deep at most in Lake Pepin.
But Nielson said many lake sailors today talk about "the wave," a mysterious disturbance sometimes seen in the water.
More common, however, are summertime sightings of tourists posing in front of an "Official Pepie Watch Station" sign, Nielson said.
"We've had far, far more publicity than we've ever dreamed in our imagination," said Nielson, who won an award from Explore Minnesota Tourism for marketing the monster.
"It was just a legend before," said Andrea Hamilton, executive director of the Lake City Chamber of Commerce. Now it's tourism bait.
"Our retailers think it's good," she said.
Jil Garry, owner of the Treats and Treasures fudge and gift shop in Lake City, said she carries Pepie-licensed T-shirts, baby bibs, stuffed animals and Pepie mints.
"Not to be confused with peppermints," Garry said.
"People requested coffee mugs, so we started doing coffee mugs," she said.
You can also find a Pepie pizza in the town and "I think someone has a Pepie burger that's monster big," Garry said.
Nielson said the idea of a festival started floating around the last couple of years following the recent influx of monster hunters.
"They all said you ought to have a festival," Nielson said.
Festival events are scheduled to run from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday in downtown Lake City, and will include face painting, live music, walking tours, boat cruises and lectures on the Pepie legend.
Re: Stuff & Nonsense
« Reply #12771 on: May 24th, 2015, 10:05am »
GOOD MORNING Z & ALL OF OUR UFOCASEBOOKERS
Top 10 Strangest Miracles of the Middle Ages
By Medievalists.net – May 25, 2014
There were tens of thousands of miracles recorded in the Middle Ages. A study of St.Bernardino of Siena found that at least 2447 miracles were attributed to him alone! These miracles could be to heal various ailments, protect a person from danger, punish a wrong-doer, provide a vision, or even help someone escape a prison.
The reason we know of so many miracles is that church officials needed to record them when deciding if someone was to deemed a saint – you needed to have performed some miracles, during or after your lifetime. Some popular saints would see pilgrims flocking to their shrines, hoping for a cure, and the churches were very happy to promote the healing abilities of their saints.
While most miracles were typical stories of healing or assistance, there were many unusual ones as well. Here is our list of the top 10 strangest miracles of the Middle Ages.
Re: Stuff & Nonsense
« Reply #12772 on: May 24th, 2015, 12:08pm »
Who Wants to Be Smoked?!
Smoked Mummy Helps Villagers Connect with 'Ghost World'
by Tia Ghose, Staff Writer May 22, 2015
The smoked mummy of a village chief in Papua New Guinea has gotten a makeover, helping members of his clan connect with his spirit in the "ghost world."
The mummy, also a former shaman and warrior named Moimango, was lashed by the elements over the past several decades, causing his body to deteriorate. But scientists were able to restore Moimango's body using materials from the jungle.
The researchers also learned exactly how the smoked mummies were made, said study co-author Ronald Beckett, a professor emeritus and bioanthropologist at Quinnipiac University in Connecticut.
Ancestors above High above the village of Koke, on a cliff sheltered by a small overhang, sit the mummified bodies of several deceased members of the Anga clan. The village, in the Aseki region of Papua New Guinea, lies in a remote area between the highlands, which have seen an influx of foreigners due to gold mining, and the coast, which has contact with the outside world through its ports.
Beckett first learned about the mummies from photojournalist Ulla Lohmann, who had visited Koke several times. The clan leader, a man named Gemtasu, wanted to improve the condition of the remains of his father Moimango, who was mummified in the 1950s. Gemtasu hoped that by restoring his father's body, he could also revive the cultural practice of smoking mummies, which missionaries had discouraged for decades.
Mummies mark the Anga's territory. Relatives such as Gemtasu often consulted with departed loved ones for advice and included them in celebrations. The ability to see the face of the departed loved one was critical to this process, Beckett said.
According to the Anga, great people whose bodies are not taken care of will roam the jungle as spirits and potentially sabotage hunting or crops, Beckett told Live Science.
"The ghost world — that's a very, very real thing to them," Beckett said. Mummy restoration The years had not been kind to Moimango. He had a dislodged jaw and a drooping head in danger of completely falling off. Lichens had also infiltrated the body, and at one point, a rodent had burrowed into Moimango's side, making a nest inside, Beckett said.
Beckett and his colleague Andrew Nelson of the University of Western Ontario in Canada wanted the Anga to be able to maintain the restorations themselves. So, in 2008, the team arrived and asked villagers to identify suitable restoration materials from the jungle.
"I went to Papua New Guinea with practically nothing other than some examination tools," Beckett told Live Science.
The team used bark cloth called tapa to patch and support body parts, such as the jaw and the head, and heated sap from the kumaka tree to use as glue. The team killed the lichens permeating Moimango with a lime-based substance called suca made from crushed shells, which has the same pH as bleach. They also touched up the ocher clay on the body, and restored some of the other mummies on the cliff.
The local materials worked remarkably well.
When he saw the final results, "Gemtasu was very pleased — he started to cry, he started to sing, he started to dance, he took my hand," Beckett said.
Two years later, when the team returned, Moimango was still in good condition and the lichen had not grown back. Smoking the body The team also mummified a forest pig to understand how the smoking process worked.
Here's how the villagers mummified loved ones: First, they scraped the bodies with a bristly plant, before placing it in a hut filled with smoke for 30 days. A bamboo pipe served as an anal spigot to evacuate the gut contents, and bodily fluids leached out of tiny holes poked in the hands and feet that were massaged by villagers.
Finally, villagers slathered the bodies with ocher, a claylike form of iron oxide, which further wicked moisture from the body and created a capsule to protect the mummifying remains from the elements.
Even in the sweltering conditions of Papua New Guinea, which normally accelerate the decomposition of corpses, the process worked remarkably well, Beckett said. The smoke makes a hostile environment for bacteria and prevents insects from laying eggs in the body. Arsenic in the smoke also acts as a preservative, Beckett said.
Though the process may seem strange to those unfamiliar with it, the spiritual belief underlying it — that the physical remains of the dead person are a way to communicate with them — isn't all that different from Western mourners leaving flowers on the grave of a loved one or going to a cemetery to talk to their deceased relatives, Beckett said.
The restoration of Moimango was described in a study published today (May 22) in the journal Anatomical Record.
Re: Stuff & Nonsense
« Reply #12773 on: May 25th, 2015, 02:48am »
Yikes Swamp that was wierd!
The lengths to achieve contact is as strong to achieve enlightenment. Asia is certainly not immune either..
Bizarre Death Ritual: 19th Century Buddhist Self-Mummification This short-lived death ritual was believed to be a road to enlightenment. Posted on March 20, 2013 by Dana Sitar (Blog Writer, SevenPonds) - See more at: http://blog.sevenponds.com/cultural-perspectives/buddhist-self-mummification#sthash.QGsU4gle.dpuf In late 1800s Japan, several Buddhist monks called Sokushinbutsu attempted the rare ritual of self-mummification. Driven by the Buddhist quest for enlightenment and the belief that this requires non-attachment from the physical body, these monks prepared to take their own lives while preserving their remains for history.
The practice was finally outlawed in Japan in the early 1900s, but not before several hundred monks and priests attempted the practice. Archaeological discoveries estimate that only 24–28 were able to achieve mummification and considered true Buddhas.
The process of self-mummification was long, complicated and tortuous. The goal was not simply suicide, but a full removal of oneself from attachment to the physical body and its needs and pains.
The full (not for the faint of heart) process went as follows:
Not unlike Egyptian mummification, the process had to painstakingly overcome physical barriers — and the monks, in effect, achieve incredible mental control. The first step was to remove all the fat from the body. They achieved this by adopting a diet of nothing but nuts and seeds for 1,000 days — nearly three years!
Next the monk had to remove all the moisture from his body. This stage lasted another 1,000 days, and reduced the already-meager diet to nothing but the bark and root of pine trees. After this time, the monk would drink a poisonous tea made the sap of the East Asian urushi tree. This toxic sap contains the same allergenic compound that makes poison ivy every camper’s nemesis.
The tea served two functions: It sped up the process of removing fluids from the body by causing vomiting; and it lined the inside of the body with its poison, defending against maggots. -
The final step was to lock himself in a stone tomb, assume the lotus position, and wait. In the tomb, the monk had an air tube and a bell, which he rang once every day to let those outside know he was still alive. When the ringing ceased, the other monks would remove the air tube and seal the tomb. After a final period of 1,000 days, they would re-open the tomb to find out if the monk had achieved mummification. In most cases, they had not, but even “unsuccessful” Sokushinbutsu were revered for their awe-inspiring sacrifices and resolve. The estimated two dozen who were mummified were viewed as true Buddhas.
“If a man can control his mind, he can find the way to enlightenment.” – Buddha
Re: Stuff & Nonsense
« Reply #12777 on: May 25th, 2015, 09:28am »
“Burial at Sea” By: LtCol George Goodson, USMC (Ret)
In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from time to time, as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most were trivial.
War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has endured it. Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic and was wounded there, Vietnam was my war.
Now 42 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of those days in Cambodia, Laos, and the panhandle of North Vietnam where small teams of Americans and Montagnards fought much larger elements of the North Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some exotic, some mundane: *The smell of Nuc Mam. *The heat, dust, and humidity. *The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets. *Elephants moving silently through the tall grass. *Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers. *Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar. *A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby. *The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao. *My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland.
It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in Vietnam. Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from Indianapolis to Norfolk, rented a house, enrolled my children in their fifth or sixth new school, and bought a second car. A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to Little Creek, Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office. Appearance is important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a poster Marine. I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only 30 days before. At 5'9", I now weighed 128 pounds - 37 pounds below my normal weight. My uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was yellow from malaria medication, and I think I had a twitch or two.
I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked at the nameplate on a Staff Sergeant's desk and said, "Sergeant Jolly, I'm Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and my Qualification Jacket."
Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck out his hand; we shook and he asked, "How long were you there, Colonel?" I replied "18 months this time." Jolly breathed, “you must be a slow learner Colonel." I smiled.
Jolly said, "Colonel, I'll show you to your office and bring in the Sergeant Major. I said, "No, let's just go straight to his office." Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, "Colonel, the Sergeant Major. He's been in this job two years. He's packed pretty tight. I'm worried about him." I nodded.
Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major's office. "Sergeant Major, this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Office. The Sergeant Major stood, extended his hand and said, "Good to see you again, Colonel." I responded, "Hello Walt, how are you?" Jolly looked at me, raised an eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door.
I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of coffee and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt's stress was palpable. Finally, I said, "Walt, what's the h-ll's wrong?" He turned his chair, looked out the window and said, "George, you're going to wish you were back in Nam before you leave here. I've been in the Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for 14 months, and Vietnam for 12 months. Now I come here to bury these kids. I'm putting my letter in. I can't take it anymore." I said, "OK Walt. If that's what you want, I'll endorse your request for retirement and do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine Corps."
Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too much suffering. He was used up.
Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications, conducted 28 military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the families of Marines that were severely wounded or missing in action. Most of the details of those casualty notifications have now, thankfully, faded from memory. Four, however, remain.
*MY FIRST NOTIFICATION* My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I was notified of the death of a 19 year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters Marine Corps. The information detailed: *Name, rank, and serial number. *Name, address, and phone number of next of kin. *Date of and limited details about the Marine's death. *Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station. *A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or closed. The boy's family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 60 miles away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state line into North Carolina, I stopped at a small country store / service station / Post Office. I went in to ask directions. Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small Post Office window. The man held a package. The Storeowner walked up and addressed them by name, "Hello John. Good morning Mrs. Cooper."
I was stunned. My casualty's next-of-kin's name was John Cooper! I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, "I beg your pardon. Are you Mr. and Mrs. John Cooper of (address)?"
The father looked at me-I was in uniform - and then, shaking, bent at the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me. Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I think I caught her before she hit the floor.
The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr. Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I drove them home in my staff car. The storeowner locked the store and followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began arriving.
I returned the storeowner to his business. He thanked me and said, "Mister, I wouldn't have your job for a million dollars." I shook his hand and said; "Neither would I."
I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the door, and sat there all night, alone. My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death notification.
Re: Stuff & Nonsense
« Reply #12778 on: May 25th, 2015, 09:31am »
“Burial at Sea” By: LtCol George Goodson, USMC (Ret)
Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals. I borrowed Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and how to fold the flag. When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said, "All Marines share in your grief." I had been instructed to say, "On behalf of a grateful nation...." I didn't think the nation was grateful, so I didn't say that.
Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn't speak. When that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder. They would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, "I'm so sorry you have this terrible job." My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over and kissed her.
*ANOTHER NOTIFICATION* Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young PFC. I drove to his mother's house. As always, I was in uniform and driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across the yard, screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO!"
I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her up and carried her into the house. Eight or nine neighbors followed. Ten or fifteen later, the father came in followed by ambulance personnel. I have no recollection of leaving.
The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and shook his head sadly.
*ANOTHER NOTIFICATION* One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant Jolly held the phone up and said, "You've got another one, Colonel." I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes, thanked the officer making the call, I have no idea why, and hung up. Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone Directory that translates telephone numbers into the person's address and place of employment.
The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my office. I called the Longshoreman's Union Office and asked for the Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and asked for the father's schedule. The Business Manager asked, "Is it his son?" I said nothing. After a moment, he said, in a low voice, "Tom is at home today." I said, "Don't call him. I'll take care of that." The Business Manager said, "Aye, Aye Sir," and then explained, "Tom and I were Marines in WWII."
I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw instantly that she was clueless. I asked, "Is Mr. Smith home?" She smiled pleasantly and responded, "Yes, but he's eating breakfast now. Can you come back later?" I said, "I'm sorry. It's important. I need to see him now." She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, "Tom, it's for you."
A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door. He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said, "Jesus Christ man, he's only been there three weeks!"
Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth...... I never could do that..... and held an imaginary phone to his ear.
Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, "Got it." and hung up. I had stopped saying "Thank You" long ago.
Me, "Eastern Shore of Maryland. The father is a retired Chief Petty Officer. His brother will accompany the body back from Vietnam...."
Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, "This time of day, it'll take three hours to get there and back. I'll call the Naval Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I'll have Captain Tolliver get one of his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief's home."
He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father's door. He opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at parade rest beside the car, and asked, "Which one of my boys was it, Colonel?"
I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office and home phone number and told him to call me, anytime. He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00PM). "I've gone through my boy's papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you make that happen?" I said, "Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will."
My wife who had been listening said, "Can you do that?" I told her, "I have no idea. But I'm going to break my ass trying." I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation, and asked, "General, can you get me a quick appointment with the Admiral at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters?" General Bowser said," George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will see you.
I was and the Admiral did. He said coldly, "How can the Navy help the Marine Corps, Colonel." I told him the story. He turned to his Chief of Staff and said, "Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?" The Chief of Staff responded with a name.
The Admiral called the ship, "Captain, you're going to do a burial at sea. You'll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this mission is completed... "
He hung up, looked at me, and said, "The next time you need a ship, Colonel, call me. You don't have to sic Al Bowser on my ass." I responded, "Aye Aye, Sir" and got the h-ll out of his office.
I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and the Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship's crew for four days. Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He said, "These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from floating?"
All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the Senior Chief stood and said, "Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the retired guys from World War II hang out."
They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worst for wear, and said, "It's simple; we cut four 12" holes in the outer shell of the casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of the casket. We can handle that, no sweat."
The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth. The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed on a catafalque. The Chaplin spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played "Eternal Father Strong to Save." The casket was raised slightly at the head and it slid into the sea.
The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet. The incoming water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet, stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising from the sinking casket sparkled in the in the sunlight as the casket disappeared from sight forever....
The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, "General, get me out of here. I can't take this anymore." I was transferred two weeks later.
I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too much death and too much suffering. I was used up.
Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with me. He waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes, came to attention, saluted, and said, "Well Done, Colonel. Well Done." I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor!
A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America for an amount of up to and including their life.'
That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.'