this in this morning—
—make of it what we will. I’ve often pondered the motivations of folks who wear medals, decorations, and such to which they are neither entitled nor have even the remotest claim.
BUT I DON”T
let it worry me. They deserve themselves.
And unless someone is a wee bit addled in the morality department the mere act thereof can only lower a deluded self esteem even further. Sooner or later (with just the one sole exception I can think of) every man has to look in a mirror*.
are becoming meaningless anyway.
The latest I heard was that in New Zealand everyone who joins up will get a medal for ‘being in the armed services’. How true that is I neither know nor care, but for folks who did real service I think it cheapens something.
WHEN I WAS YOUNG
we understood the word ‘veteran’ to apply to guys who’d done active service overseas. Today it is applied to every berk who even licked a postage stamp with a picture of a soldier on it … how long before Victoria Crosses come with the morning Wheaties? Or Purple hearts for skinning a toe in the act of trying on that first army boot?
Two Purple Hearts, Snowflake! One for each foot! Now don’t drop this thing again~!
They also serve … … who never wear a medal
“How’s the kit issuing for the latest recruits coming along?”
“Fine, Sir. Although we now give ’em two kit-bags—”
“One for their kit, Sir. And now one for the medals~”
“~and we hafta lay on a truck for their medals bags …”
* Moi self. I know what I look like—and I shave in the shower. (No need for no blasted mirrors, dammit, I know where my face is …)