During the weekend, before Memorial Day, Jack Yoest wrote:
We drove back down Bradley Avenue — past a fresh grave covered by a tarp. In front of us, sparkling in the bright sunlight of a gorgeous day, stretched row after row of white marble markers, orderly, peaceful, some weathered, others new and crisply chiseled . . .I turned […] “I want you to look,” I said. “I want you to understand, that each one of these headstones represents someone who gave their life so that you could be free.”
I salute you who fight, you who have fought to defend our country. I am not one of you. I regret that I am not. My story isn’t important. Yours is.
Thank you to the soldiers of the war,
The quick and living and the resting dead.
You protected me and mine from evil men,
And for my freedoms fought and killed and bled.
I know that I’m not why you volunteered
To travel overseas and join the fight.
Thanks be to God that you are on my side
So my kids sleep safely in the peaceful night
Thanks a million!