Trump awards Medal of Honor to military hero who freed more than 75 hostages in Iraq
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There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
by Shel Silverstein
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
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This is an account of Americans. Which is, I am heart broken to say, not an account of the people who make up more than a very small percentage of the population of the USA.
I am convinced that there will be a bloody reckoning in our country in the not too distant future. We will need men and women who are Americans to save our nation.
Barely a mention from the media of this man receiving the Medal of Honor. Instead we got a large dose of hearing the disbelief of fans in Kansas City booing a demonstration by football players.
decency is downplayed, abomination is exalted
got a new arkansas wet stone, pure black, BIG, 6″w x 14″l x 3″thick
gonna try to wear it out on a shitload of edges that need refined
when it’s done that becker will lay waste to 6 necks at once
Thomas Payne’s MOH citation as a graphic novel:
https://twitter.com/wretchardthecat/status/1304594909228232704
It’s one of those MOH stories that makes you get goosebumps from the drama and courage of the event. This man, and his stalwart unit, remind me that Americans do tremendous things when the moment arrives. Like always, I try to personalize things from the news, and so please permit me this indulgent memory. I attended a dress blue uniform dinner in the Eighties, and one guest at our battalion mess quietly sat with the commander. Both were Green Beret vets of the Vietnam war, and it so happens that our guest was one of a handful of the founders of Force Delta. There’s good, and then there’s damn good. And goddamned few better yet. SGM Payne takes his place at the Valhallan table set for just his caliber of man.
I can read like the rest of us, and I am not a veteran. Airborne school post boot camp and AIT from what I read, is non-stop running and push-ups (Ghost can confirm). This MOH winner also went through Ranger school which is a total suck-fest of little food, less sleep and total dedication of physical capability through pain. He eventually makes it to Delta Force which would physically and mentally crush even a toughened man. I have two Ben Franklins that say he earned his CIB (combat infantryman’s badge) LONG before he ever got to Delta Force. Dude is a total badass.
Snake sed: “Airborne school post boot camp and AIT from what I read, is non-stop running and push-ups…”
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During basic at Fort Knox (summer 74) we walked every where, miles upon miles. Probably several hundred before it was done. If it was raining we rode the cattle cars but that was rare. Then off to Combat Engineer AIT at Fort Leonard Wood. The first day during the el-tee’s introductory speech one of the troops asked if we were going to have to walk very much. The el-tee grinned from ear to ear and said, “There will be very little walking here at Fort Leonard Wood, (everybody breathed a sigh of relief assuming we would be riding the cattle cars to all the ranges) you will be RUNNING!” He pulled the rug out and everybody was shell shocked. He continued, “There are only 2 ways soldiers move on my post, flat out hauling ass double time, or on your belly in the goddamned gutter.” We ran like broke dik dawgz.
This was in late summer, and we ran like barren hoons every where. Hundreds of miles. Imagine 200 swingin’ dix in formation double timing with a 9 man front. They made the fat doods road guards and they ran them fuckers into the ground. I wasn’t fat, but maybe more than I should have been. I was 185 (6′ tall) when I started basic and when I came out of jump school I was 155. When I went home on leave afterward my mother was shocked. She said I looked like a concentration camp victim. lol Maybe, but I could out run the wind!
Late Oct 74 I got to my permanent party in Wildflecken Germany (my home for the next 37 months) and waddya know? The company commander is a gd ranger. jeezis chryste. Every.god.dam.morning he started us out with a 3 mile run around the whole post. A year later he was promoted, shipped stateside and we could finally act like normal people for a change.
Quiet. Confident. Shows admiration for his fallen friend. Says his medal memorializes everyone but him.
What a rare and noble man.