give thanks you for your serving ,Sir !I was spending several(prenominal) months , a a couple of(prenominal) years book binding, with friends in Central Florida, skilful Patrick AFB.I was receiving treatments for my AMD condition at University of Miami and there was no practical counselling to travel the cc+ miles by humans tran pastime and I had not lavish vision to drive.The Grayhound unexpended Melbourne aerodrome at 10 AM an d arrived at 19:00 in Miami, which required overnight stay etc. My retired military arrays could not reasonably anticipate to drive five hundred miles roundtrip every 6 weeks. So, I came upon a volunteer convocation called Angel Flite,a assort of private pilots who offered their work to disabled vets, much(prenominal) as I am. So I happened ro be stand(a) in Miami’s Exe racewayive airport delay for the arrival of my pilot. I was corrosion casual sport clothes and a baseball chapiter embroiderded with ” Patrick AFB ” The cap was a gift from my host a retired Lt.Col . with whom I regularly went obtain at Patrick. He also pinned on the cap a ” Ruprured Duck ” , the gold spread shoot lapel pin we legitimate with our WW2 honotable discharge opus along with the presidential lettter of greetings from Harry Truman.I was standing in the waiting room have on the cap when all of a sudden a strapping, tall-growing fellow wear a graceful uniform of a private executive jet pilot, approached me. He smiled and with reveal a word, grabbed my accomplish and verbalise ” give thanks you for your service, Sir ! ”I unsloped stood there dumn struck, plausibly as yet my utter open. Well…I have never…. ! Not even buns in 1947; has ever such a involvement happened. I was remainingfield speechless and the infantile pilot had walked bulge to his plane by the time I could have said anything.On the flight back to Melbourne my mind flashed back to an other event. I was attending a memorial service at Syracusa,Sicily with survivors and relatives of the airborne drop and catastrophe in the 1943 come of Patton’s tropps. by and by at a local museum we were entertrained and pass on packages of brochures about the battles fought nearby. wholeness of the handouts was a reprinting of an member from the 1943 new-made Yorker. One of their stave witers seved as contend correspondent and his article about a remarkable eyewitness report of what I would call; the fashioning of a Congrassional thread of Honor. The story was the posting of about one-half(prenominal) a batallion of Americans having sightly been repelled in an acclivitous attack by the Germans. They retreated to the theme of the cumulus dapple the Germans were bringing in Panzers and pushed an attack rasehill. American artillery was tryng to cop the advance. Suddenly they observe a hit GI who was cut off and left behind half way up the hillsid e. He dour out to be a veritable reincarnation of Sgt. York. He dashed from hold out to cover and attach a iodine handed return attack. He laiud down a outflow of handgranade attack and took out a mchine ordnance store nest. He bulgeed a dozen Germans with devastatingly veracious rifle fire. all(a) the time snappy from cover to cover. The batallion at the bottom of the hill had a ringside seat to the spectacle. They watched breathlessly the drama. Finally the Germans send a monolithic force bhind the lone(prenominal) GI and managed to kill him. Truly it was a Congressional laurel wreath of Honor in progress and in full view. thank you for your service,Buddy ! It was a magnificently live invoice of war inform at it’s best.If you want to confirm a full essay, order it on our website:
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