Warriors Lament

[SF-TX]

I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man. - Thomas Jefferson, 1800 - letter to Benjamin Rush


I had always hoped that the younger generation receiving their early impressions after the flame of liberty had been kindled in every breast...would have sympathized with oppression wherever found, and proved their love of liberty beyond their own share of it. - Thomas Jefferson, 1814 - letter to Edward Coles

[ODA 226]

The pockets of our great coats full of barley--
No kitchens on the run, no striking camp--
We moved quick and sudden in our own country.
The priest lay behind ditches whith the tramp.
A people, hardly marching--on the hike--
We found new tactics happening each day:
We'd cut through reins and rider with the pike
And stampede cattle into infantry,
Then retreat through hedges where cavalry must be thrown.
Until, on Vinegar Hill, the fatal conclave.
Terraced thousands died, shaking scythes at cannon.
The hillside blushed, soaked in our broken wave.
They buried us without shroud or coffin
And in August the barley grew up out of the grave.

Requiem for the Croppies by Seamus Heaney, 1967

[Demerde-toi]

Great thread and reminds me of a diary that I kept while "En Afrik" on my first deployment. Will dig thru some boxes and see if I can contribute. The very first post on this thread....hits home, thanks.
G

[CosaNostraUSMC]

My thoughts at this very moment, from my experiences...


"A sandy time, foreign shores yet all too much my home, where I once found myself... lost.
The days hot, come and go, everywhere and no where. Am I truely there or halfway here.
Nights I remember, gritty, bitter sweet, 72 virgins in silence... they ask of it.
Minarets the sky, my newborn son, me vs them, the world in my ruck... no time but the now.
Where the fuck is the ocean?!
Gambling against the odds? We are the odds. Spaghetti or Chowmein... wanna trade? al Asad with my boys or alone with my flag... how will I come home?
My finger is a decade ahead of my age, experienced the hard way. A burden to my Springfield, I must not fail it.
Flashes of light in threes, no sound, it's raining brass, THEY'RE ALL WET... for I am dry and only want one.
Attention all frequencies, QRF is now Chuck Norris!
Birds of prey, steel blue sky, angels circling with 5,000 ways out. We are their epicenter, relish this moment gents.
Those things I long to forget, myself, the past, the now... I want them again.
Now I'm found. Starbucks, plasma tv, a mattress, credit cards, bills, Democrats for Democracy?
When I was there, there was no paralax... now paralax is all around.
You were the best men I never did have at my wedding, we helped shape history... I would do it over.
When can I get "lost" again?!"
-CosaNostraUSMC

[RB]

But all posts and words from the heart are being chopped out to word and saved as memories.

Goose bumps head to toe is not even close.......

[Stras]

DEFINITION OF A VETERAN
A Veteran - whether active duty, retired, national guard or reserve - is someone who, at one point in their life, wrote a check made payable to "The United States of America", for an amount of "up to and including my life."
Author Unknown

[Trip_Wire (RIP)]

Poem about the Munsan-ni Combat Jump. Korean War Combat Jump
by: Peter Griffin

On Good Friday, March, 23rd , 1951,
A major Airborne assault, had begun....
145 combat cargo planes, filled the sky,
Thousands of communists, about to die....
3,300 troopers of the* 187th Airborne Regimental Combat Team,
Did "hit the silk", each man, lean and mean....
Hitting the ground, their weapons readied,
Their enemy, 20,000 strong, there was a plenty....!
Behind the Paratroopers, came the heavy drops,
The 674th Field Artillery, battle ready, completed the lot.....
A first, this jump, made Airborne history,
But would "Operation Tomahawk", end in victory....?
Landing south of Munsan-ni, nine miles from North Korea,
Behind enemy lines, could they fulfill this panacea.....?
After securing the vast drop zone,
Fight, then advance, they set their tone......
For two bloody days, they kept this pitch,
Always in the open, no cover, nary a ditch....
Fight, hurry, reach Uijongbu, cut the enemy supply route,
Rain, wet ground, heavy, ,muddy, sloshing,-jump boots....
Day break, Easter Sunday, secure the hill ahead,
The cost, be much blood and dead....
In a horizontal formation, they moved out,
Crossing flat land, they suspected, a gory bout...
All of the sudden, all hell broke out,
Came swarms of enemy, "charge", in Chinese, they did shout....!
For awhile, the "Rakkasans", held their own,
Just too many bastards, how their numbers had grown.....!
Swinging and firing, "burp guns", from the hip,
Troopers falling,* "slap, slap," as they were hit....!
Deadly enemy fire, slowing their advance,
"Keep moving forward", must take the chance.....!
The 187 opened up with a roar,
Killing Chinese, by the score....!
But still, troopers fell, with moans and shrieks,
Such depleted ranks, their outlook bleak....!
This bloody place, called Parun-ni,
Many a soldier, faced eternity.....
Not able to advance, nor retreat,
Suddenly artillery, boom, boom, repeat, repeat....!
The enemy dispersed and scurried away,
The 674th had saved the day....!
For a few moments, they caught their breath,
Not enough time, to eat or rest....
It rained, again, as the "Rakkasans" counter-attacked,
Avenging soldiers, they'd offer no slack.....!
The enemy dead, piled up before them,
Enemy strength, no longer a quorum.....!
Chasing the Chinese, up and over, the objective,
Now, total annihilation, the enemy, would be subjective....
To their front, loomed, another great hill,
Reaching its peak, they set up the kill.....
It's a mountain!, as they surveyed that rise,
A large land mass, met their eyes....!
With such depleted ranks, could they hold them back?
To their despair, bugles sounded a full attack....!
The entire rise, covered by charging Chinese,
Grey swarms, as far, as the eye could see....!
Wave after wave, the enemy attacked,
By sheer numbers, they'd break their backs.....!
With "Rakkasans"* backs, thrown, against the wall,
Out of ammo, rifles swinging, many did fall....
Others firing their 45's, desperately, trying to stay alive,
Now facing, their annihilation, would any survive....?
Suddenly, support companies were on the scene,
Laying down murderous fire, heard the enemy scream....
Dropping their "burp guns", leaving their wounded and their dead,
Suffered much, as they fled.....
This is how Easter Sunday came to an end,
As "Rakkasans" gathered their injured and dead....
Down the hill, a priest is saying mass,
Survivors joined in, to the last....
After Service, finally, eating hot C's,
Soothing hot coffee, easing many a worry.....
But then came the order, "move it out",
Enough strength left for another bout...?
Heading back towards Munsan-ni,
Hills 519 and 322, entrenched, a hidden enemy....
As the paratroopers, scaled these mountains,
Mortars and machine guns, pounded them....
Over their heads, swish, swish, swish,
The 674th granting,* yet another wish.....
The deadly mortars and guns, now silent,
The sounds of digging, becoming most evident....
At the top of these mountains, boot high snow,
By aerial observation, an entrenched enemy, clearly showed....
The paratroopers attacked, facing strong resistance,
Despite casualty, after casualty, they went the distance....
Finally, after much blood, carnage and death,
The 234th Chinese Regiment, was laid to rest....!
The surviving troopers, now realizing, they had won,
To North Korea, retreating communists, on the run....!
Catching them withdrawing, in an open ravine,
"Rakkasans" machine guns created a gory scene....
Destroying an entire army of North Korean and Chinese,
Total victory was achieved....!
Many of the "Steel Berets", had met their fate,
But quick to reach, Saint Peter's Gates....
As God welcomed these heroes inside,
You could hear him cry....
To you heroes, who did survive,
This horrific battle, just won't subside.....
But be it known, you have earned your place,
Your comrades await, your presence, inside the gates.....
The highest entity, did not forget your war,
As you know, he's been keeping score....
To his angels, he sings your praise,

In his book of the faithful, YOUR NAMES ENGRAVED.....

[Trip_Wire (RIP)]

The Sapper
Rudyard Kipling

When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear,
("It's all one", says the Sapper),
The Lord He created the Engineer,
Her Majesty's Royal Engineer,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

When the flood comes along for an extra monsoon,
'Twas Noah constructed the first pontoon,
To the plans of Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

But after fatigue in the wet an' the sun,
Old Noah got drunk, which he wouldn't ha' done,
If he'd trained with Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

When the Tower o' Babel had mixed up men's bat,
Some clever civilian was managing that,
An' none of Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

When the Jews had a fight at the foot of a hill,
Young Joshua ordered the sun to stand still,
For he was a Captain of Engineers,
Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

When the Children of Israel made bricks without straw,
They were learnin' the regular work of our Corps,
The work of Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

For ever since then, if a war they would wage,
Behold us a - shinin' on history's page -
First page for Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

We lay down their sidings an' help 'em entrain,
An' we sweep up their mess through the bloomin' campaign,
In the style of Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

They send us in front with a fuse an' a mine
To blow up the gates that are rushed by the Line,
But bent by Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

They send us behind with a pick an' a spade,
To dig for the guns of a bullock-brigade
Which has asked for Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

We work under escort in trousers and shirt,
An' the heathen they plug us tail-up in the dirt,
Annoying Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

We blast out the rock an' we shovel the mud,
We make 'em good roads an' - they roll down the Khud,
Reporting Her Majesty's Royal Engineers'
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

We make 'em their bridges, their wells an' their huts
An' the telegraph wire the enemy cuts,
An' it's blamed on Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

An' when we return, an' from war we would cease,
They grudge us adornin' the billets of peace,
Which are kept for Her Majesty's Royal Engineers'
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

We build 'em nice barracks - they swear they are bad,
That our Colonels are Methodist, married or mad,
Insultin' Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

They haven't no manners nor gratitude too,
For the more that we help 'em the less they will do,
But mock at Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

Now the Line's but a man with a gun in his hand,
An' Cavalry's only what horses can stand,
When helped by Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

Artillery moves by the leave o' the ground,
But we are the men that do something all round,
For we are Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

I have stated it plain an' my arguments thus
("It's all one", says the Sapper)
There's only one Corps which is perfect - that's us:
An' they call us Her Majesty's Engineers,
Her Majesty's Royal Engineers,
With the rank and pay of a Sapper!

A Salute to The Engineers, Rudyard Kipling

[Trip_Wire (RIP)]

The “A” Team in the Sky

(Written with Love* for the Fallen and Lost Special Forces Soldiers)
by
SGM James “Jack” Carey
USSF (Ret) –* SFA D - 1213 L


The time has come to move again,
****** his orders he has received.
The trip he knew someday he’d make,
****** this last voyage had been perceived.
Many people say that now he’ll pay
****** for ghastly deeds done well.
There’s no doubt there in their minds,
****** he had earned his place in Hell!
But as I look upon him now
****** as he lay in Eternal Sleep.
I don’t see their “Godless” man,
****** I see one mild and meek.
I understand the way they feel
****** cause they only saw his show.
They never did see that man beneath,
****** the one that we did know.
The man who loved his country so
****** he did all jobs with glee.
So all mankind could live and pray
****** from Sea to shining Sea.
His Badge of Courage in its place,
****** his Green Beret upon his head.
He still looks long and lean and mean,
****** still looking so strong, yet dead.
We loved this man for his beliefs,
****** not the deeds that they recall.
We know he stood for liberty,
****** and for freedom for us all.
Religion?* Some say he had none!
****** That money was his only token.
But I was there when you two would speak,
****** though Your name was never spoken.
Your House on earth he would not enter,
His presence might bring You dishonor.
So he would meet with You each day,
****** In a bar or some very dark corner.
I know You told him how to act,
****** and play this big charade.
So just his name would bring them fear
****** in life’s continuing parade.
They never saw him, head held low
****** as he gave You his report.
With heavy heart and tearful eyes
****** he’d wait for you to sort!
The deeds he had accomplished,
****** in his eyes some right, some astray.
He hoped that You approved of all
****** and blessed them in some way.
With shaking hands and worried look
****** with sweat upon his brow,
He’d stare off somewhere into space
****** and then his head, he’d bow.
He’d hear no worldly words right now,
****** you were giving him direction.
Your critique received, his grade well earned,
****** he would then stand at attention.
He’d tell me that You spoke with him
****** and that we had to hurry.
He told me that you approved it all,
****** there was no need to worry.
No longer humble, meek, and broken
****** for those things they claimed he’d done.
The things they said done with such malice
****** had been approved by “The Right One”.
Prepared to leave, he would down that drink,
****** the one he had bought for show.
For all those present in that bar,
****** For he knew they must never know.
His walk again would show them all
****** that he truly was “The Master”.
That he was not only lean and mean
****** but his heart was made of plaster.
But Lord, I think that we both know
****** his heart had not been hollowed.
Had he shown the slightest fear or doubt,
****** his men would not have followed.
Had others known the things we do
****** about his mission on this earth.
Never would they have been accomplished,
****** his work would have had no worth.
Now Lord, You’ve come to take him home,
****** to have him by Your crown.
To have him help You as You guide
****** those left here “on the ground”.
Now it’s our turn to carry the load
****** as we sadly say Goodbye,
To a faithful friend, who now proudly stands
****** With The “A” Team in the SKY.
*

[Trip_Wire (RIP)]

"It is the soldier, not the reporter, Who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the soldier, not the poet, Who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.

It is the soldier, Who salutes the flag, Who serves beneath the flag, And whose coffin is draped by the flag, Who allows the protestor to burn the flag."

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.

Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a
piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's alloy forged in the refinery of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.

You can't tell a vet just by looking.

What is a vet?
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and
aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

He is the Drill Instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Soldiers, Airman, Sailors and Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.

He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.

He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't
come back AT ALL.

He is the "parade-riding" Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.

She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.

He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.

He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say "Thank You".

That's all most of them need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been or were awarded.

November 11th is Veterans Day!

Now you know !!

[Trip_Wire (RIP)]

Vanguards of Freedom
(The Green Berets)

"De Oppresso Liber!"

Crossed arrows...green beret

Dick Meadows..."Nick" Rowe...Bull Simons...Sontay!
Warrior's blade..."The Quiet Professionals"...liberty!
The Grey Ghost...Swamp Fox...awesome legacy!

Vanguards of Freedom...stalking horse of night
Special Forces soldiers...fight oppression's fight.
SOG...sacred trust...following God and Creed,
"If I'm the last...surrender Hell!" A very special breed.

These silent heroes answer...wherever freedom calls
For God, John Wayne, Uncle Sam...first in war to fall.
Korea...Southeast Asia...Iraq...Afghanistan.

Stealthy, unseen shadows...this mighty warrior band!

Fearless of "The Last Patrol"...set apart...honor bound.
God speed! to a dying brother...sad songs...of an old blue hound.
A brave heart...slain in battle..."Hey Blue" sings of his worth,
As lightning from Valhalla...guides a warrior soul from Earth!

C. 2002
Marsha Burks Megehee

In memory of
U.S.A. Special Forces
Capt. Humberto "Rocky" Versace
West Point - MOH

[Trip_Wire (RIP)]

Halfway down the Trail to Hell
In a shady meadow green,
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped
Near a good old-time canteen,
And this eternal resting place
is known as Fiddlers' Green.

Marching past, straight through to Hell,
The Infantry are seen,
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marine,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.

Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene,
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen,
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.

And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen.
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.

[Trip_Wire (RIP)]

"A Green Beret"

After the insecurity of The Second Childhood and during The Maturity Of Man we find the "Green Beret".

"Green Berets" Are found everywhere, In Bars, Behind Bars, Looking Through Police Bars, In Trouble, In Debt, In the Air, On Leave, And in Love.

"Green Berets" Come In Assorted Colors, Sizes, Weights, And States of Sobriety, Misery and Confusion.

Sweethearts Love Them, Mothers Worry About Them, The US Supports Them And Somehow They Manage To Get Along With Each Other. A "Green Beret" Is A Composite With A Weapon, Sly As A Fox, Has The Energy Of A Bull, The Brains Of An Idiot, The Sincerity Of A Priest, The Appetite Of An Elephant, Stories Of Heroes And The Love Of God.

A "Green Beret" is Laziness With A Drink In His Hand, A Millionaire Without A Cent, Bravery With A Grin, The Protector Of America With The Latest Copy Of Playboy Magazine In His Possession At All Times. When He Wants Something It Is Usually A Letter From His Sweetheart, A Three Day Pass, Special Duty, A Jump Or A Little Love.

He Dislikes Answering Letters, His Commanding Officer, Getting Up For Reville, Army Chow, Air Force Reserve Pilots, The Week before Payday, Second Lieutenants, Non-Airborne Personnel And Comments About His 'Beret".

He Loves His Sweetheart, His Mother And His Uniform.........No One Can Say So Little And Wrte So Seldom, Yet Think Of You So Often. No One Can Get So Much Fulfillment Out Of Your Letters, Love, A Song Or A Little Child.

A "Green Beret" Is A Strange Magical Creature......You Can Lock Him Out Of Your House, But Not From Your Heart. You Can Take Him Off Your Mailing List, But Not Out Of Your Mind.

Author Unknown

[Trip_Wire (RIP)]

TOMMY

I went into a public 'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats 'ere."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I,

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away;"
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins," when the band begins to play.
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play.
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins," when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me.
They sent me to the gallery or round the music 'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! They'll shove me in the stalls!

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside;"
But it's "Special train for Atkins " when the troopship's on the tide.
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide.
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the troopship's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap.
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an` "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll.
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes," when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you.
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints.

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind;"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir" when there's trouble in the wind.
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind.
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir" when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools an' fires, an' all;
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face.
The widow's uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot.
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

[Trip_Wire (RIP)]

Sorry Guy's as an old retired COP, I had to slip this one in. ... Besides most of it fits QPs as well.



When God Made Police Officers...

When the Lord was creating police officers, he was into his sixth day of overtime when an Angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this human model Lord."..."You look tired and frustrated".."Its only a police officer"..


And the Lord said, "Have you read the spec on this human, police model order?


A police officer has to be able to run miles through alleys in the dark. Scale walls, enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch, fight with super human-stoned-on-drugs suspects and not wrinkle the uniform."


"A cop has to be able to sit in an undercover car all day on a stakeout, cover a bloody homicide scene that night, work with narcotics suspects, canvass the neighborhood for witnesses and testify in court the next day. after 3 hours sleep."


He has to be in top physical condition at all times, running on black coffee and half-eaten, fast-food meals.


And he has to have six pairs of hands."


The Angel shook her head slowly and said "Six pairs of hands...".." no way."


"Ummm, its not the hands that are causing me problems." Said the Lord, "its the three pairs of eyes a police officer has to have."


"That's quite a model human Lord?", said the Angel. The Lord nodded. "One pair that sees through a bulge in a pocket before he asks, "May I see what's in there, Sir?" "And finds a gun hidden away before he is killed"...


(When he already knows and wishes he'd taken that accounting job when he graduated from college.)


Another pair here in the side of his head for his partner's safety. And another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and say, "You'll be all right ma'am, when he knows it isn't so."


"Lord." said the Angel, touching his sleeve,
"Rest and work on this tomorrow.".."its too tough"..


"I can't."said the Lord, "I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound drunk into a patrol car without incident and it can feed a family of five on a civil service paycheck." The Angel circled the model of the police officer very slowly, looking at the fine details the Lord was including. The model looked strong, smart, even dedicated.


"Can it think?" she asked."..."You bet" said the Lord, "My police officer model can tell you the elements in a hundred crimes; recite Miranda warnings to remain silent;; investigate, search and arrest a gang member on the street in FAR less time that it takes five learned judges to debate the legality of the vehicle stop/search that my new cop will make"..."And it still keeps it's sense of humor."..


"This police officer I'm making also has phenomenal personal control"..." He can deal with crime scenes painted by Hell, coax a confession from a child abuser, not hurt a criminal by using his brains and mouth, comfort a murder victim's family, and then read in the daily News how law enforcement isn't sensitive to the rights of criminal suspects."


Finally, the Angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the model Police Officer God had made and said,. "There's a leak Lord."she pronounced... "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model, trying too hard."


"That's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear."..


"What's the tear for?" asked the Angel....


The Lord said, "It's for bottled up emotions, for fallen comrades, for commitment to the gold badge the officer wears and for that piece of red, white and blue cloth called the American Flag, a flag for global justice."


"You're a genius Lord", said the Angel. "Even the tears too"...


The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put the tears there." he said, "They just appeared on their own, actually just a few minutes ago".."It must be a premonition of times to come"...? "Even I don't know how to control that"...!


...Author Unknown...