Never was there a great Nation that was lacking in great battles. Made of great sacrifices.Only seldom have nations been worthy of such sacrifice. But warriors never choose the foe nor count the causes Solders never set the cadence nor even the direction. in which wars furies will mindlessly burn. In which he or she may mindfully burn. On this day we gratefully take back Those who have been burnt by our wars. The living wounded, the walking dead. Always to many to bury always to much left unsaid. If I do not speak today when will I speak? We have lost three times as many of those we sent to die in war here at home in our loving arms killed by our unfeeling negligence. Unable to bear the weight of war alone Unable to escape the crushing feeling that there was one more solder that needed to die. Vets need not die to alleviate our nations guilt.Our shame does not arise from you or your service. But from those of us who did not serve then and who do not serve you now. That so many of you wander our streets with troubled minds upon cripple legs trying to catch up with the life you sacrificed in service to an ungrateful country shames us all. Solders fight together, but they return home alone. We put our best on the front lines,We put what remains of them on the street to wander in doubt of Gods mercy. Maybe we got all this backwards. A day to thank the vets. When every day of freedom is a debt we owe them We should instead make this a day that the Vets thank us who did not serve for all we did for them. They should be done by 8;30 AM and be back home if they have one for an early lunch. if they have any thing to eat. If I must speak as one who did not serve on this day made for those who did Then This I must say. Your honor and service to this country is your gift to it's future For today we are unworthy of you. Today we have broken the contract we made with each of you, That when all was done we would care for you. What greater disgrace can befall us than this. That you must now walk these streets alone hidden by those who wave the flag you risked everything for. I like to think myself a spiritual man. Here is what I gained from my endeavors. "No greater love hath anyone than this: That he should lay down his life for his brothers." how very strange and terrible it is to see our county throw your lives away on this Our Veterans day. For those who have born the battle: WESTMORLAND. O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England That do no work to-day! KING. What's he that wishes so? My cousin, Westmorland? No, my fair cousin; If we are mark'd to die, we are enough To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour As one man more methinks would share from me For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse; We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is call'd the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say "To-morrow is Saint Crispian." Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say "These wounds I had on Crispin's day." Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words— Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester— Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red. This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be rememberèd— We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
