Today is Veterans Day.

Today is a day not just for parades. I remember marching those parades. It was a toss up if I was going with the ROTC or the Band. I like ROTC because I didn't have to wear the silly uniform. Seriously though, today is the day that on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th year of the 20th century, we said enough of a war that was killing the best and brightest of us. Sting wrote a song called Children's Crusade telling about that war. They called it the "War to End All Wars." Well, that didn't happen. Man is still man. I guess as long as we have hands, we will kill. However, we must honor those who die for us. Because without them, we do not enjoy the freedom we have. They are special to us. This is the day we celebrate the end of that war. Veteran's Day, here in the US, Remembrance Day, Armistice Day... Just remember the cost of war and those that fight for our freedoms. War is not some game, but real people killing other real people. I wish our leaders would remember that when they send boys to die. The vast majority of soldiers in war today are in their 20's, late teens. God bless them.

STING LYRICS

"Children's Crusade"

Young men, soldiers, Nineteen Fourteen
Marching through countries they'd never seen
Virgins with rifles, a game of charades
All for a Children's Crusade

Pawns in the game are not victims of chance
Strewn on the fields of Belgium and France
Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade
All of those young lives betrayed

The children of England would never be slaves
They're trapped on the wire and dying in waves
The flower of England face down in the mud
And stained in the blood of a whole generation

Corpulent generals safe behind lines
History's lessons drowned in red wine
Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade
All of those young lives betrayed
All for a Children's Crusade

The children of England would never be slaves
They're trapped on the wire and dying in waves
The flower of England face down in the mud
And stained in the blood of a whole generation

Midnight in Soho, Nineteen Eighty-four
Fixing in doorways, opium slaves
Poppies for young men, such bitter trade
All of those young lives betrayed
All for a Children's Crusade