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Post 764 Colorguard
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. Post 764 Colorguard . |
Post 764 Color Guard at the 2007 Sharing & Caring event in Pittsburgh, Pa |
INDEX:
Official Song of the National Guard
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The 764 Color Guard occupied the front row at the State Convention in Green Tree for Dom DeFranco's installation
as State Commander |
Color Guard presented the colors in honor of Paul Urquhart's POW-MIA Flag dedication during W&J College's
2005 Homecoming Veteran's Memorial Service |
VFW Post 764 Color Guard 2003 |
VFW Post 764 Color Guard back in the days of white leggings |
Early years of the VFW
Post 764 Color Guard |
(L to R) Gene Rockacy, Allen Bails, Bill Snedeker, Larry Bresselsmith, Dom DeFranco and Don Lawrence visit a Bethel Park, PA elementary school in
2003 |
(L to R) Dan McPoyle, Don Lawrence, Gene Rockacy, Gary McLaughlin, Mike Klauer and Larry Bresselsmith at the Forest Lawn Gardens Memorial in Peters Twp. |
VFW Post 764 Color Guard at the rededication of the in 2003 |
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The
flag folding ceremony described by the Uniformed Services is
a dramatic and uplifting way to honor the flag on special days,
like Memorial Day or Veterans Day, and is sometimes used at retirement
ceremonies. Here is a typical sequence of the reading: |
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We've all heard the haunting song, "Taps." It's the song that gives us that lump in our throats and usually creates tears in our eyes. But, do you know one of the stories behind the song?
The Confederate Army was on the other side of the narrow strip of land. During the night, Captain Ellicombe heard the moans of a soldier who lay mortally wounded on the field. Not knowing if it was a Union or Confederate soldier the Captain decided to risk his life to bring the stricken man back for medical attention. Crawling on his stomach through the gunfire, the Captain reached the stricken soldier and began pulling him toward his encampment. When the Captain finally reached his own lines, he discovered it was actually a Confederate soldier but the soldier was dead. The Captain lit a lantern and suddenly caught his breath and went numb with shock. In the dim light, he saw the face of the soldier. It was his own son. The boy had
been studying music in the South when the war broke out. Without
telling his father, he enlisted in the Confederate Army. The following
morning, heartbroken, the father asked permission of his superiors
to give his son a full military burial despite his enemy status.
His request was only partially granted. The Captain
had asked if he could have a group of Army band members play
a funeral dirge for his son at the funeral. The request was turned
down since the soldier was a Confederate but, out of respect
for the father, they did say they could give him only one musician.
The Captain chose a bugler. He asked the bugler to play a series of musical notes he had found on a piece of paper in the pocket of the dead youth's uniform. This wish was granted. The haunting melody we now know as "Taps" used at military funerals was born. |
Day is
done, gone the sun |
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I
am an American soldier. I am a member of the United States Army
- a protector of the greatest nation on earth. Because I am proud
of the uniform I wear, I will always act in ways creditable to
the military service and the nation it is sworn to guard. |
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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 ally 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 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 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. She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in DaNang. He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back at all. He is the Quantico drill instructor that has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs. He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand. He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by. 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 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 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 people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded. Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU". 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 -- whose coffin is draped by the flag and -- who allows the protester to burn the flag. |
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