SFCRetired
Regular Member
Ninety-four years ago this Sunday, eleven November, the guns fell silent for the first time in four long, bloody years. A young private who was transitioning from Coast Artillery to Field Artillery was in France at that time. His unit was scheduled, had not he Armistice intervened, to move to the front lines the following week.
That young soldier is gone now. Until the day he died, he never failed to pause for a moment on that day and, when the season rolled around, he never failed to put a dollar or two in the Salvation Army kettles.
Tomorrow, I ask that all of you, my friends, join me in a moment of silence at eleven o'clock in memory of not only those veterans of WWI, but of all the veterans of our country's services. For those of you who served, I ask that you join me in a raised glass of the beverage of your choice in memory of those we left behind.
How do I know about the young soldier? He was my father.
The title of the thread comes from "the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, 1918."
That young soldier is gone now. Until the day he died, he never failed to pause for a moment on that day and, when the season rolled around, he never failed to put a dollar or two in the Salvation Army kettles.
Tomorrow, I ask that all of you, my friends, join me in a moment of silence at eleven o'clock in memory of not only those veterans of WWI, but of all the veterans of our country's services. For those of you who served, I ask that you join me in a raised glass of the beverage of your choice in memory of those we left behind.
How do I know about the young soldier? He was my father.
The title of the thread comes from "the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, 1918."
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