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Gang, Those of you who come to One Marine’s View often know that I have a blog post category called “Every Day is Memorial Day” because in my book, every day is. Not for me knuckleheads, for those warriors other than me. Those warriors that were fighting wars before you were and I were glimmers in our daddy’s eyes, the warriors who just try to make it through each day with their disability, and especially those that America has forgotten, until days like Memorial Day arrive. So from today until Memorial Day, I will be posting Memorial tribute posts under the title “Every Day is Memorial Day”. Don’t like it? Go to Dr Phil’s blog, I’m sure it’s filled with motivating articles (yawn). Want to be motivated beyond one day and have the day mean more to those not in the military? Come back by because “Every Day is Memorial Day”.

Read today's tribute

 There have been many times we “Marines” have helped one another out. Hell, I was in the airport in DC when this senior Marine walked up to me by security and asked if I was a Marine. I thought “here we go” I said “Yes Sir” and he said well you can have this knife that he had in his pocket and was going to surrender it but saw me (as if I look like a Marine, 6’2” sexy ass hair cut etc) and figured he would rather give it to me than surrender it to those steely eyed combat hardened TSA agents.

I said “Sir, one better, why don’t you give me your address and I will mail it to you” He just gave me his business card and had a shit eating grin on his face. He happen to be a Colonel in the Pentagon. I said “It will be in your mail box when you get home” and as he walked through security he said, “I have no doubt, thanks Marine”. About a week later I got a thank you card from him and a coin explaining that those types of gratitude between Marines is why he loves being a Marine. I couldn’t agree more.

Marines can meet for the first time, be 50 years in age difference and quickly become great drinking buddies. Some say it’s a mafia, some say it’s a gun club, I like to call it, my Marine Corps, that sums it up. Time for a C-Gar

(from an email to me from another Marine) As I came out of the supermarket that sunny day, pushing my cart of groceries towards my car, I saw an old man with the hood of his car up and a lady sitting inside the car, with the door open. The old man was looking at the engine. I put my groceries away in my car, and continued to watch the old gentleman from about twenty five feet away. I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too, and took a few steps towards him. I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something. The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand new Cadillac Escalade. He then turned back to the old man. I heard him yell at the old gentleman saying:'You shouldn't even be allowed to drive a car at your age.' And then with a wave of his hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot. I saw the old gentleman pull out his handkerchief, and mop his brow as he went back to his car and again looked at the engine. He then went to his wife and spoke with her; he appeared to tell her it would be okay. I had seen enough, and I approached the old man. He saw me coming and stood straight, and as I got near him I said, 'Looks like you're having a problem.' He smiled sheepishly, and quietly nodded his head. I looked under the hood myself, and knew that whatever the problem was, it was beyond me. Looking around, I saw a gas station up the road, and I told the old man that I would be right back. I drove to the station and went inside. I saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them, and related the problem the old man had with his car. I offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him. The old man had pushed the heavy car under the shade of a tree and appeared to be comforting his wife. When he saw us he straightened up and thanked me for my help. As the mechanics diagnosed the problem (overheated engine), I spoke with the old gentleman. When I shook hands with him earlier, he had noticed my Marine Corps ring and had commented about it, telling me that he had been a Marine too. I nodded and asked the usual question, 'What outfit did you serve with?' He said that he served with the first Marine Division at Guadalcanal , Pelieliu, and Okinawa . He had hit three of the worst ones, and retired from the Corps after the war was over. As we talked we heard the car engine come on and saw the mechanics lower the hood. They came over to us as the old man reached for his wallet, but was stopped by me. I told him I would just put the bill on my AAA card. He still reached for the wallet and handed me a card that I assumed had his name and address on it, and I stuck it in my pocket. We all shook hands all around again, and I said my goodbye's to his wife. I then told the two mechanics that I would follow them back up to the station. Once at the station, I told them that they had interrupted their own jobs to come along with me and help the old man. I said I wanted to pay for the help, but they refused to charge me. One of them pulled out a card from his pocket, looking exactly like the card the old man had given to me. Both of the men told me then that they were Marine Corps Reserves. Once again we shook hands all around and as I was leaving, one of them told me I should look at the card the old man had given to me. I said I would and drove off. For some reason I had gone about two blocks, when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time. The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name was written: 'Congressional Medal of Honor Society.' I sat there motionless, looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage, and an honor to have been in his presence. Remember, as we approach another Memorial Day, OLD men like him gave you, and all of us, FREEDOM for America . Thanks to those who served and still serve, and to all of those who supported them, and who continue to support them. America is not at war. The U.S. Military is at war. America is at the Mall.

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