Welcome Home, Captain.
September 29, 2012 10 Comments
I mentioned earlier this week that two friends were dealing with returning soldiers this week. One was LTCOL Dan Bohmer, who is safely home. Huzzah! I talked about him and his blog a bit here. Now it’s time to talk about the other.
The other returnee is a British captain, like Dan returning from Afghanistan, in one of the stranger twists of life, I know a bit about him and am sure he knows a bit about me but, we’ve never met. So why him? There’s a story in that.
I’ve been blogging for a bit over a year and I’ve met some wonderful people because of it. The Captain’s wife is one of them. A year ago I hadn’t met a British subject since I was in college but, several are friends now. But even in that select company, the captain’s wife is very special. In the course of the last few months, she has become my dearest friend, period. On or off the internet. In fact I have been known to refer to her as my niece, because that’s how much I love her. Who is this paragon? If you read here at all, you already know. She is none other than Jessica Hoff of All along the Watchtower, my second home on the internet.
Her husband, who I am very much looking forward to meeting, at least for now, at a distance, is a captain in the British army. One of those brave souls who had enough guts to go to Afghanistan (for the fourth time in 150 years)for no better reason than we were going. Friends like these don’t grow on trees, and whatever we did to earn their friendship wasn’t nearly enough.
Our countries have been working together, for the betterment of the world since the Anti-Slavery patrols off Africa in the 19th century and like all relatives we have our spats. but this Yank has always been glad that you are there, the original home of the brave and land of the free.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
I also note that like the good officer he is, he brought his men home with him and I’m very glad they are home as well. My buddies in the Navy have a flag hoist that I suspect you know, in writing we tend to put it.
Now, I’m quite sure you two kids have better things to do than read an old Yank’s drivel, so get to it
It’s also Saturday so here’s some music for the day.