Our Freedom doesn’t come free.
Freedom isn’t Free.
We didn’t get it as a birthright except through the sacrifice and service of men and women every minute of the last two hundred and something years and going.
In case you missed it, today is Veteran’s Day. We should not forget even though it landed on Sunday this year that we will be off on Monday to pay tribute to the end of a war that was supposed to end all wars. All you have to do is google life in many other countries to realize we are starting to take our freedom for granted here. And our veterans.
As I mention here in the veterans resources page and at the end of my books, it is NOT a cliche or a stadium moment that we owe our veterans for our freedom. In researching my Calloways of Rainbow Bayou series I found that many of the issues our vets and their families face are understated. They deserve and need our support though they don’t ask for thanks. It do it because they love our country and believe in the freedoms our forefathers have sacrificed their lives for over the last few centuries.
My father served in what’s known as the China Burma Campaign. I’ve always loved this picture of him and wanted to know more and now, a fellow author, Grey Hoover, has written a book about this period in history. This is an awesome tribute to soldiers who fought in that campaign. We must never forget and as our family members continue to fight for our freedom, it’s our duty to support them and educate ourselves on what’s happening in our world.
Our Freedom is NOT free. We can’t take it for granted.
Kicker by @GreyHoover about the China Burma Campaign is #Free now #VeteransDay. Get Grey’s book Kicker #Free until the 13th. http://mybook.to/Kicker
April 4, 1944- Dinjan Airbase, India
Sam and Bobby Joe were totally exhausted when they crawled into their charpoys. The harrowing events of the day had taken its toll on them physically and mentally. In spite of the heat and noise of the jungle, Sam felt the blessed relief of sleep approaching soon after his head hit the pillow. However, as he drifted off, a feeling of unease came over him. It was a feeling that something was wrong, not here in India, but at home. He didn’t know if he felt uneasy because he still hadn’t received mail from home or because of some unknown reason, but the feeling stayed with him until he finally succumbed to his exhaustion and slipped into a deep sleep.
Thankfully, his slumber was not disturbed by his recurring nightmare, and he slept soundly until the wee hours of the morning when he suddenly awoke not knowing what had disturbed him. A light rain was falling outside, and except for an occasional flash of distant lightning, the basha was in total darkness. He lay very still, listening to the sounds around him. He strained his hearing, but no sound came except for the steady breathing of the sleeping men around him. After several minutes, he relaxed, thinking his imagination was playing tricks on him. He was almost asleep again when he thought he detected a faint unfamiliar sound coming from somewhere in the basha. Once again, he listened intently, not sure he had heard anything; but then he heard the sound again—only this time it seemed closer, and he was sure it came from within the basha. He couldn’t quite place the sound, but it seemed like something soft brushing against an object. He listened closely, but all was silent. None of the other men in the basha stirred, and after an extended period of silence, he relaxed once again in anticipation of sleep.
He was in that dreamy state just before slumber when he felt the presence of something or someone nearby. Once again, his senses came to full alert, and he made a conscious effort not to move. He listened carefully, bringing all his senses to bear. He could see or hear nothing, and yet he was sure something was there. He was startled when someone at the other end of the room moved, but then all was silent once again. He was lying on his back, so he slowly moved his head to the right and scanned the darkness.
At first he saw nothing, but then attention was drawn to a slight movement at the foot of his bed. He couldn’t make out what it was. It appeared to be an undistinguishable shadow against the darker background of the room. As he watched, the shadow moved, and he held his breath as it silently glided along the side of his bed. There was no sound as it moved, and it slowly drew nearer and stopped near the head of his bed. He could tell that it was something large, but due to the extreme darkness, he was unable to see what it was. His instincts told him this was something dangerous and evil, and the hairs on the nape of his neck stood erect. At that moment, a distant flash of lightning faintly illuminated the scene, and in that instant of light, Sam could see the large form of a tiger standing beside him.
The animal’s head was enormous. Its eyes, momentarily reflecting light from the faraway lightning, gave the beast an evil, devil-like appearance. This was death incarnate staring directly at him.
Sam was frozen with fear, and his heart seemed to stop. His .45-caliber pistol hung on the wall not three feet away, and he cursed himself for not keeping it inside the mosquito netting with him. He knew the tiger could see that he was awake, and he feared any movement would cause it to attack. The animal stepped closer, and Sam could see its dim outline and smell its damp fur and the fetid odor of its breath. The tiger appeared to know its victim was helpless. The great beast took its time as it sniffed the mosquito netting as if testing its strength. Slowly it raised a huge paw and placed it against the puny impediment. The tiger’s claws caught in the netting, and with a mighty swipe, it ripped the flimsy material away from the bed.
R Grey Hoover is an Air Force veteran with a family tradition of military service that dates back to the American revolution. He wrote his book “Kicker the forgotten front” to honor his father and the other veterans of World War II who fought in the China-Burma-India (CBI) theatre. During the war, the European and Pacific theatres got most of the supplies and media attention leaving the CBI theatre with the leftovers. Even in today’s media coverage of World War II the CBI theatre is never mentioned. The author’s book is an attempt to correct this gross oversight.
R Grey Hoover’s social media links:
Below are some URLs you may use in our effort to remember our forgotten veterans.
FREE on November 9, 10 & 11 – Remembering our forgotten veterans of WWII. Get your #FREE copy of Kicker (The Forgotten Front) a story of sacrifice and heroism. #ASMSG #IARTG https://t.co/Is4RF8gTpq https://t.co/h1ZaJrBwlx pic.twitter.com/a22tPJutMD
— R. Grey Hoover (@rgreyhoover) November 9, 2018
#FREE on November 9, 10 & 11 – Remembering our forgotten veterans of WWII. Get your free copy of Kicker (The Forgotten Front) a story of sacrifice and heroism. #ASMSG #IARTG https://t.co/Is4RF8gTpq https://t.co/h1ZaJrBwlx pic.twitter.com/ZfK7ODsuoF
— R. Grey Hoover (@rgreyhoover) November 9, 2018