All posts by JD Pendry

Happy Birthday United States Army


It started down at the DMV

By J. D. Pendry

My day that is.  I walked up to the counter, proper paperwork in hand.  The gentlemen, who never once looked at me, nary a glance, inquired “What are you here for?”  The look on his face suggested a laxative might be in order.  “Good morning.  Registration renewal”, I offered.  “Did you get a renewal notice?”  “Yessir.”  Glancing in my direction but never making eye contact, he ripped a ticket number from the desktop machine and handed it to me.  Such a pleasant exchange.  Laxative for certain.  The ticket read D613.

I sat down.  At 9 AM there wasn’t much of a crowd.  Still, it seemed to me like there were many able-bodied people there that time of the morning in a country where we reportedly have a million more unfilled jobs than we have people looking for work.  Thinking positively, I figured they must be working the night shift.  Maybe over at the 24-hour Super Center.  Well all of them but the guy with the long pony-tail and a Fu Manchu.  A Sheriff’s Deputy walked in with him in tow.  Something about an expired registration.  Most definitely he was hopelessly trapped in the 60’s.  The low, almost mumbling pot head manner of expression was the giveaway.  The deputy should have administered a urinalysis.

All around there were signs. “Avoid the wait.  Renew Online.”  Most everyone I could see waiting for the automaton to call their number had their noses buried in a cell phone.  I figured they were all tech savvy enough to complete an online renewal.  Maybe if the sign added: And you can do it from your smart phone.

The numbering system remains a mystery.  I watched and listened while the numbers ticked off.  D610, D611, D612 all sent to the same window out of about a dozen.  Then the lady at that window, stood, grabbed her purse and coffee cup, pushed her chair under the table and walked out.  By then, it was about 9:30 AM.  The place opened at 8:30, break time is 9:30.  I wondered if they had any job openings.  A001, A002, A003…. After what seemed like a long while, a new lady showed up at another window.  She plopped some stuff down and walked away.  Coffee cup in hand she finally returned, fidgeted with her chair, the papers on her desktop, took a piece of paper from beneath her keyboard, and started pecking away.  It was a password under the keyboard I guessed.  Access to the entire state’s DMV data base.  D613.  I mentally did my happy dance and about 2 minutes later I walked out the door pondering whether I’d prefer the online experience.  Then it occurred to me that the people running this operation also run that one.

It was rainy out.  Lately I could say that about any day but I have yet to review the specifications for the Ark.  It’s more than a week since I last mowed the lawn.  When it finally dries out, mowing should be an adventure.  I found a dead rabbit kitten the last time I mowed.  It wasn’t me that did it.  Likely feral cats. The same ones that use my flower beds for litter boxes.

Headed up the boulevard doing the 50-mph limit, an elderly gentleman pulled out in front of me and accelerated to a blistering 20-mph.  On a wet, water covered road in his light in the backside pick-up truck.  Using my exceptional driving skills, I was able to avoid catastrophe.  I smiled and tipped the bill of my cap as I passed.  He was a kindly looking old fellow.  No, I did not tip it with that finger.  This is West Virginia and there was likely a loaded weapon nearby although the DMV left me in the mood for a running gun battle.  It wasn’t two whole minutes before another nitwit did it again.  That’s when I thought one more time boy and all hades is going to break loose.

Kind of behind with things here in the bunker.  Someone told me that retired life is like having 7-day weekends.  Clearly that was made up by someone hoping to retire someday.  There’s always plenty to do as I explained to one the American Journal writers, recently I’m busier than a one-legged man in a butt kicking contest.  Problem is, I’m always doing the necessary things when I want to be doing other stuff.  But, back to my day of retired life.

Suzie-Q and I determined we needed a piece of furniture so we left the DMV headed for the furniture store.  We were greeted at the door by a kindly looking lady.  She spoke quite softly, which means I barely heard a word she said.  We are looking for a chest of drawers we explained.  She said follow me.  She was not very mobile, but finally directed us to some displays and pointed out a couple of selections.  Suzie-Q, who is rather matter of fact, declared those are the ugliest things she’d ever seen and wouldn’t consider them even if they were free.  I got into whistling mode and wandered away.  Unassisted, we finally located an oak chest that what we wanted, bought it and departed.  We went to lunch, the first pleasant experience of the day.

Retired life is good, but sometimes my brain clutters up with stuff like this that you must endure.  Please hit the share button multiple times.  If I have a good week, I may make 3 cents from Google ads. Okay, I’ll try to move along to something serious.  Truthfully, probably not.

© 2019 J. D. Pendry, J. D. Pendry’s American Journal, All Rights Reserved, Email JD:

Subscribe to receive free American Journal updates by Email

Email Format

D-Day June 6, 1944

D-D Prayer of President Franklin D. Roosevelt

My fellow Americans:

Last night, when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome, I knew at that moment that troops of the United States and our allies were crossing the Channel in another and greater operation. It has come to pass with success thus far.

And so, in this poignant hour, I ask you to join with me in prayer:

Almighty God: Our sons, pride of our Nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity.

Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.

They will need Thy blessings. Their road will be long and hard. For the enemy is strong. He may hurl back our forces. Success may not come with rushing speed, but we shall return again and again; and we know that by Thy grace, and by the righteousness of our cause, our sons will triumph.

They will be sore tried, by night and by day, without rest-until the victory is won. The darkness will be rent by noise and flame. Men’s souls will be shaken with the violences of war.

For these men are lately drawn from the ways of peace. They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise, and tolerance and good will among all Thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home.

Some will never return. Embrace these, Father, and receive them, Thy heroic servants, into Thy kingdom.

And for us at home — fathers, mothers, children, wives, sisters, and brothers of brave men overseas — whose thoughts and prayers are ever with them–help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves in renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice.

Many people have urged that I call the Nation into a single day of special prayer. But because the road is long and the desire is great, I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer. As we rise to each new day, and again when each day is spent, let words of prayer be on our lips, invoking Thy help to our efforts.

Give us strength, too — strength in our daily tasks, to redouble the contributions we make in the physical and the material support of our armed forces.

And let our hearts be stout, to wait out the long travail, to bear sorrows that may come, to impart our courage unto our sons wheresoever they may be.

And, O Lord, give us Faith. Give us Faith in Thee; Faith in our sons; Faith in each other; Faith in our united crusade. Let not the keenness of our spirit ever be dulled. Let not the impacts of temporary events, of temporal matters of but fleeting moment let not these deter us in our unconquerable purpose.

With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy. Help us to conquer the apostles of greed and racial arrogancies. Lead us to the saving of our country, and with our sister Nations into a world unity that will spell a sure peace a peace invulnerable to the schemings of unworthy men. And a peace that will let all of men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil.

Thy will be done, Almighty God.


Subscribe to receive free American Journal updates by Email

Email Format

America: We’ve become a contradiction wrapped in absurdity

By J. D. Pendry

Most mornings, if I didn’t stay up too late to watch the Cubs get beat, I come down to the bunker while Suzie-Q is still snoozing.  I don’t mess with the news.  Usually I turn on some soft music like Lifescapes-Beethoven.  I sip my coffee, ponder our world, and consider matters I’d like to pontificate about.  Sometimes that works for me and other times the music switch in my head flips over Hank Williams Jr. and all of the sudden Hank’s rowdy friends invade my thinking mechanism.  Beethoven’s soothing sounds sometimes stimulate thought and other times my brow furrows and I grit my teeth then I know it’s going to be one of those days when, like Hank, I was born to boogie.  That’s when it wells up inside of me and I decide I’ve about had it.  Maybe you have too.  Or maybe I’m just going nuts.  Or nuttier.

Dichotomy wrapped in a paradox.

We’ve become a dichotomy wrapped in a paradox – a contradiction wrapped in absurdity.  Our government is dysfunctional.  The great ideals on which our nation was founded starkly contrasts with what we see every day.  We’ve been taught that there exist contrasting views between the pachyderms and jackasses.  On rare occasion there is, but mostly on display is the absolute absurdity of the Washington establishment – the career politicians made wealthy by bribes and insider trading.   They are so beholden to outside influences they have no time to attend to the business of Americans.  They keep blabbering about saving our democracy.  It’s something we don’t even have.  Don’t let them fool you.  If we were a true democracy questions like abortion and homosexual marriage would be put on the ballot for the voice of the people and not forced upon us by the 9 rulers of the earth.  That’s why we are a republic, so every voice supposedly has a chance to be heard even if no one else likes it.

Exceptional Nation?

The United States of America.  The world’s one exceptional nation founded on the principle of individual liberty.  A Constitutional Republic.  A government of the people, by the people, and for the people.  I don’t know how to phonetically present a Bronx cheer, so mentally add one here.  Our Constitution is in tatters.  The people do not know what’s in it.  Legislators ignore it.  And the courts pretend it means whatever they want it to mean.  A fine for not buying government insurance becomes a tax.  Killing unborn children is a right that outweighs life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  Sanctity of life?   Government by the people?  Oh, say can you see?

The Swamp.

I am sickened by the politics of Babylon on the Potomac.  Especially their new legal standard where one must be exonerated by a two-year 35-million-dollar anal probe.  Guilty until he or she can prove themselves innocent.  Is this the new American way?  These miscreants are either insane or truly believe the general public is gullible?  Gullible enough or brain washed enough to traipse behind them down a road that ends freedom.  Yes.  Ends it.  Ends America as she was conceived.  Fundamentally and forever transformed.  It isn’t just politicians and their paid political hacks doing damage to freedom.  It’s also the humongous media megaphone that feeds their tripe daily into the heads of millions of Americans and keeps it spinning around in there in dizzying perpetuity.  Even Fox News is beginning to show true colors.

Death of the Free Press.

Truthful and objective journalism is dead – its head on the proverbial pike.  If it ever really lived.  I can’t be certain if it ever did.  Can you?  In America, there is no more free press.  It’s a myth.  The press and its wannabe journalists sold its soul for political ideology.  Ever since miffed FBI Agent Deep Throat called up Woodward and Bernstein every so-called journalist has taking down a president as a life goal.  Adolph Hitler would have marveled at the reach and magnitude of the American propaganda machine.  We once laughed at press releases from places like North Korea, now we hang our heads in shame at the actions of our press.  Watching truth die.  Disheartened by the loss of a great American virtue – an honorable and free press.  And they wonder why people seeking truth turn to blogs and Internet news sites.  Adding to that social media censuring truth and we’ve allowed click bait and tweets to guide national discussions. We’ve done this to ourselves.  We allowed it to happen.  We refuse to search out the truth for ourselves.  Mostly we’re afraid to because the truth found may not be the truth sought.

Fueled by hatred.

Whether you despise our President or the Washington Establishment, you cannot like the state of our union.  A country fueled by hatred will not survive.  We’ve become a country filled with people who revel in the potential destruction of others.  People who would cheerfully place the other half into concentration camps.  People that applaud profane elitists and hold in utter contempt people inhabiting America’s rural heartland – the deplorable irredeemable gun toting Bible thumping backbone of America.  We stand divided by people unable to appreciate the present and unwilling to allow the rest of us contentment in it.  People who will not allow us to move beyond the past.  People who exist in an ever-heightening state of agitation because the mental rendering of our future fed into their minds is even more discouraging than the past they’ve been taught to hate.  We are dead in 12 years easily influenced emotionally driven young 18-year-olds are told.  What are you going to do about it?  If you want to live longer than 12 more years, make sure you go out and vote for our socialist utopia where equality reigns and everything is free?

Extortion the new fascism.

Extortion is the new fascism.  If your state does not agree with us that it’s acceptable to kill unborn children or allow boys who think their girls to use the girl’s restroom then we’ll take our business elsewhere.  I suggest the nearest Islamic theocracy.  Although we will continue to do business in countries that outlaw abortion, countries that often force abortion, countries that put religious minorities into concentration camps, countries that jail and execute homosexuals.  You cannot have a fast food restaurant in our town because you are Christian and hold firm to your Christian values.  You cannot have a fast food restaurant in our airport because you are closed on Sundays.  You cannot make a living baking cakes because you refuse to use your product to promote our behavior.

The real American way is simple.  If I own a fast food chain, I stand with the food chain that stands by its beliefs.  If I own a bakery, I stand with the baker that holds fast to his beliefs.  Otherwise, I open the door to people who may want to eliminate my business because my worldview may be contrary to theirs.

Maybe we should boycott the tyrannical fascists.  Tell Hollywood and Disney, et al, to take their businesses back to Hollywood – the place they fled.  While there, enjoy working with the unions and paying California taxes.  California needs your taxes to pay for their illegal immigrant sanctuary.  And for those restaurant chains out there who remain silent hoping someone will take out their wildly successful competition – you’re next?

Then along came Jones.

On top of all the confusion in our political zoo, along came Jones.  You know Jones.  He’s the guy that rode in to save Sweet Sue from the villain that demanded, “Give me the deed to your ranch or I’ll blow you all to bits.”  A political outsider rode into Washington and won the presidency.  On live television, journalists cried.  FBI agents declared we’ll stop this.  A political campaign hired a political hitman and then passed his work to the FBI and the CIA and the DOJ who used his made-up work to spy on a campaign and ultimately a President.  The DOJ appointed a prosecutor and a team from the cabal and after two years they declare they are unable to exonerate the President of wrongdoing although they did manage to practically destroy the lives of good people like General Mike Flynn.  And they continue the greatest political scandal of our time.  All because Jones rode into town declaring he was going save the country from Washington’s swamp dwellers.

Is this the country you want?  Me?  Well, right now I want another cup of coffee.  Long live the land of the free and the home of the brave.

© 2019 J. D. Pendry, J. D. Pendry’s American Journal, All Rights Reserved. Email JD:

Subscribe to receive free American Journal updates by Email

Email Format

But the backbone of the Army is the non-commissioned man!

Today, I share a Rudyard Kipling classic “The ‘Eathen” to acknowledge my Brothers and Sisters of Arms who spend often endless days leading, mentoring, training and caring for the tiny percentage of young men and women who choose military service and, in many cases, their families as well.  It is the Non-Commissioned Officers of the Armed Forces that execute the grand plans from on high providing the well trained and disciplined young men and women without which all else fails.

The ‘Eathen

By Rudyard Kipling

The ‘eathen in ‘is blindness bows down to wood an’ stone;
‘E don’t obey no orders unless they is ‘is own;
‘E keeps ‘is side-arms awful: ‘e leaves ’em all about,
An’ then comes up the regiment an’ pokes the ‘eathen out.

All along o’ dirtiness, all along o’ mess,
All along o’ doin’ things rather-more-or-less,
All along of abby-nay, kul, an’ hazar-ho, *
Mind you keep your rifle an’ yourself jus’ so!

* abby-nay: Not now. kul: To-morrow. hazar-ho: Wait a bit.

The young recruit is ‘aughty — ‘e draf’s from Gawd knows where;
They bid ‘im show ‘is stockin’s an’ lay ‘is mattress square;
‘E calls it bloomin’ nonsense — ‘e doesn’t know no more —
An’ then up comes ‘is Company an’ kicks ‘im round the floor!

The young recruit is ‘ammered — ‘e takes it very ‘ard;
‘E ‘angs ‘is ‘ead an’ mutters — ‘e sulks about the yard;
‘E talks o’ “cruel tyrants” ‘e’ll swing for by-an’-by,
An’ the others ‘ears an’ mocks ‘im, an’ the boy goes orf to cry.

The young recruit is silly — ‘e thinks o’ suicide;
‘E’s lost ‘is gutter-devil; ‘e ‘asn’t got ‘is pride;
But day by day they kicks ‘im, which ‘elps ‘im on a bit,
Till ‘e finds ‘isself one mornin’ with a full an’ proper kit.

Gettin’ clear o’ dirtiness, gettin’ done with mess,
Gettin’ shut o’ doin’ things rather-more-or-less;
Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho,
Learns to keep ‘is rifle an’ ‘isself jus’ so!

The young recruit is ‘appy — ‘e throws a chest to suit;
You see ‘im grow mustaches; you ‘ear ‘im slap ‘is boot;
‘E learns to drop the “bloodies” from every word ‘e slings,
An’ ‘e shows an ‘ealthy brisket when ‘e strips for bars an’ rings.

The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch ‘im ‘arf a year;
They watch ‘im with ‘is comrades, they watch ‘im with ‘is beer;
They watch ‘im with the women at the regimental dance,
And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send ‘is name along for “Lance”.

An’ now ‘e’s ‘arf o’ nothin’, an’ all a private yet,
‘Is room they up an’ rags ‘im to see what they will get;
They rags ‘im low an’ cunnin’, each dirty trick they can,
But ‘e learns to sweat ‘is temper an’ ‘e learns to sweat ‘is man.

An’, last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed,
‘E schools ‘is men at cricket, ‘e tells ’em on parade;
They sees ’em quick an’ ‘andy, uncommon set an’ smart,
An’ so ‘e talks to orficers which ‘ave the Core at ‘eart.

‘E learns to do ‘is watchin’ without it showin’ plain;
‘E learns to save a dummy, an’ shove ‘im straight again;
‘E learns to check a ranker that’s buyin’ leave to shirk;
An’ ‘e learns to make men like ‘im so they’ll learn to like their work.

An’ when it comes to marchin’ he’ll see their socks are right,
An’ when it comes to action ‘e shows ’em ‘ow to sight;
‘E knows their ways of thinkin’ and just what’s in their mind;
‘E knows when they are takin’ on an’ when they’ve fell be’ind.

‘E knows each talkin’ corpril that leads a squad astray;
‘E feels ‘is innards ‘eavin’, ‘is bowels givin’ way;
‘E sees the blue-white faces all tryin’ ‘ard to grin,
An’ ‘e stands an’ waits an’ suffers till it’s time to cap ’em in.

An’ now the hugly bullets come peckin’ through the dust,
An’ no one wants to face ’em, but every beggar must;
So, like a man in irons which isn’t glad to go,
They moves ’em off by companies uncommon stiff an’ slow.

Of all ‘is five years’ schoolin’ they don’t remember much
Excep’ the not retreatin’, the step an’ keepin’ touch.
It looks like teachin’ wasted when they duck an’ spread an’ ‘op,
But if ‘e ‘adn’t learned ’em they’d be all about the shop!

An’ now it’s “‘Oo goes backward?” an’ now it’s “‘Oo comes on?”
And now it’s “Get the doolies,” an’ now the captain’s gone;
An’ now it’s bloody murder, but all the while they ‘ear
‘Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin’ the rear.

‘E’s just as sick as they are, ‘is ‘eart is like to split,
But ‘e works ’em, works ’em, works ’em till he feels ’em take the bit;
An’ ‘e lifts ’em, lifts ’em, lifts ’em through the charge that wins the day!

The ‘eathen in ‘is blindness bows down to wood an’ stone;
‘E don’t obey no orders unless they is ‘is own;
The ‘eathen in ‘is blindness must end where ‘e began,
But the backbone of the Army is the non-commissioned man!

Keep away from dirtiness — keep away from mess.
Don’t get into doin’ things rather-more-or-less!
Let’s ha’ done with abby-nay, kul, an’ hazar-ho;
Mind you keep your rifle an’ yourself jus’ so!

Subscribe to receive free American Journal updates by Email

Email Format

The Internet and social media turned me into a shallow headline reader

By J. D. Pendry

I even have trouble making it through a one-minute video.  I’m told patience is a virtue.  I guess I must strike another from my dwindling list.  I read, but if a book doesn’t capture me in the first few pages, I move on.  I suffer from self-inflicted attention deficit disorder.  Don’t roll your eyes, you do too.  I’m told you can’t solve a problem unless you admit you have one.  I’m still convinced the Internet is a government plot to make us all stupid or at least to guide our thinking and actions and we fell for it.

Good headline writers coax you into mind-numbing prose and have you searching for the rarely found headline promise.  More often than not they rely on common assumptions to draw you in.  I am convinced the Internet and social media are dumbing us down.  So convinced that when I saw the headline, IQ rates are dropping in many developed countries, I just knew some enterprising journalist proved my theory.  I read until my head drooped, my eyes were half shut, and a little drool leaked out the corner of my mouth.  Turns out it’s in Western European countries where the bulbs are dimming.  Right before I slammed the door shut, the writer put forth a theory:   Because of too much poverty and too little social support the US of A is not as advanced as the European countries.  In other words, we have to catch up to them (become more utopian I suppose having the government do everything for us) before we can achieve their level of intellectual decline.  What a goal?  Maybe if they had to solve their own problems…. The clunking sound you heard was my IQ dropping.  Being an old country boy from up the holler I don’t have a lot of IQ points to fool around with.  You ain’t so bright either.  Be careful what you read.  Excluding of course everything I write.

There’s the news about eliminating the electoral college.  Some states are voting to give their electoral college votes to whomever wins the national popular vote.  That of course is insane unless you live in the major coastal population centers where your vote could turn the remainder of the country into a serfdom.  If a lot of states pass such legislation, it would actually be a Constitutional crisis.  I’m not a soothsayer, but let me promise you this.  If a Republican wins the national popular vote, these pure democracy-seeking New York and San Francisco Communists will twist themselves into pretzels trying to explain why they were just kidding.  Sounds to me like a true Russian democracy.

Did you read about Badnawar, India’s rampaging monkey?  The monkey attacked people in town for 9 days killing one person and injuring nine others.  I’ll save you some reading time.  No one shot the monkey.  Instead there was a protest for lack of rabies vaccinations.  Eventually they captured the wild monkey terrorist.  Monkey 10, humans 0.

Out in Washington state, they’re going to start composting humans.  Not live ones, I hope.  They’re out to save the earth they worship.  Here’s the deal.  The vessel that carries my spirit and soul is just that.  I won’t be there so whatever you do with the body is meaningless.  If I do this life right, I’ll certainly be in a much better place.  You earth worshippers?  Good luck.  I used to tease Suzie-Q, but she didn’t like this particular tease.  I told her go cheap when I die.  Maybe a 2-ply trash bag and put me out by the curb on garbage day.  Now, all she has to do is haul the wood chipper up near my compost pile and stuff me in it.  Piece by piece of course.

Finally, there’s politics in the twilight zone.  Never matter that we only have 12 years before the world goes up in flames.  Put down your coffee because it’s painful when hot coffee spews out of your nose.  Joe Handsy Biden assures us that President Trump inherited the great Obama Biden economy.  They tell me that old blue-collar Joe knows.  And this is why they need to eliminate the Electoral College.

Life is good.

© 2019 J. D. Pendry, J. D. Pendry’s American Journal, All Rights Reserved

Subscribe to receive free American Journal updates by Email

Email Format

Remembering those who gave all for us

“It is foolish and Wrong to mourn the men who died.  Rather, we should thank God that such men lived.” General George S. Patton Jr.

Growing up in Southern West Virginia, we called it Decoration Day.  It was a time for remembering those lost to war and for large family reunions at Grandpa’s house.  These family gatherings were filled with World War II and Korean War Veterans, my Dad and Uncles among them.  For me, barely an advanced toddler, it was all about seeing my cousins and eating potato salad and banana pudding. 

The origins of the day remembering American casualties of war is debatable.   Several places claim the honor and President Johnson declared it began in Waterloo, New York.  Although not a declared holiday, the roots of the remembrance are traced to widows and families of Civil War dead, both Union and Confederate, who gathered in Spring to decorate the graves of those lost in the war.  Over the years, it became Memorial Day and an official government holiday to honor not only those lost in war, but all who gave their lives in military service to the country.  As General Patton said, “we should thank God” for each and every one of those who served and sacrificed and importantly passed to us the torch of freedom,

Then I heard the voice of the Lord Saying, “Whom shall I send?  And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here Am I.  Send me!”  Isaiah 6:8 (NIV)

I’m not a poet, unless you consider some of the Jody cadences I used as a Drill Sergeant.  During my last few years of service, I was at Fort Myer in Arlington, Virginia.  About a ten-minute walk from my house on Fort Myer was the Tomb of the Unkowns in Arlington National Cemetery.  It was early, the sun not up for long and flickering through the trees.  A slight breeze blowing.  A light dew covered the green fields.  It was the most serene, peaceful, and inspirational place I’ve ever been.  When I returned home, I tried to capture my feelings in a poem.  Indulge me my first and only attempt at poetry.

Fields of Heroes

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image-16.png

At my back is the colonnade of the Mansion Lee,
Sprawling before me, a free nation’s capital I see.
Just below this dwelling high
Beneath an eternal flame a president and his family lie.
It’s a fitting place for a president to be
Surrounded by the hero spirits of the free.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image-17.png

Not so far from this majestic home,
In Napoleonic alignment stand many rows of stone
Bearing a simple inscription, Union Soldier – Unknown.
Heroes of the free who never made it home.
A fitting place for these souls to rest
Guardians still of this world’s best.

A horse drawn caisson passes by
The sounding of Taps tears the eye.
With the blast of guns twenty-one
To these fields of honor another hero comes.
It’s a fitting place for an eternal home
Surrounded by brothers and sisters of arms.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image-19.png

Marble and granite stand in contrast to green sod
Honoring those known but to their God.
A guard of honor walks precise
Ever present sun or ice.
It’s fitting homage to the souls

Of these unknown heroes who gave all.

Twenty-one steps this guard of honor takes
In twenty-one seconds his journey he makes.
For twenty-one seconds he will pause,
Honoring those who had a cause.

Quiet and peaceful are these fields of green
A spiritual place, calm, serene.
And as I feel their cooling breeze the spirits know
Humbly I stand midst fields of heroes.

May God bless and embrace the men and women who sacrificed for us.  Let us take the torch of freedom they passed to us and keep it burning brightly.

© 2019 J. D. Pendry, All Rights Reserved

Subscribe to receive free American Journal updates by Email

Email Format