THE WALL OF FACES

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Dear SSgt James White, Thank you for your service as an Infantry Unit Leader. I researched you on the 54th anniversary of the start of your tour. Saying thank you isn't enough, but it is from the heart. Christmas is in days, Merry Christmas. Time passes quickly. Please watch over America, it stills needs your strength, courage, guidance, and faithfulness, especially now. Rest in peace with the angels.

Never forgotten.

Semper Fi, Marine

You will forever remain in our hearts and prayers

When I announced "One thousand!" the squad bay had been dark and quiet for a long time. The platoon had returned from chow, done all the night time things and gone to sleep. I heard his chair scrape back. I lay on the concrete floor in a puddle of sweat looking at his perfectly spit-shined boots. "Get in the rack like you are," he said. I thought there was some respect in his voice. I went to sleep soaked with sweat, boots on. He never "rode" me again. We had a few weeks to go at Quantico, and there have been other times, but that was the first time I was a Marine. Still am.

A few months ago I was with a friend from that OCS platoon. "Remember the big ring of salt that was on the floor the next morning after you did all those mountain climbers?" He asked.

From Quantico, my Platoon Sergeant went back to 'Nam for a second tour. You can find his name on The Wall. SSgt. James Broadus White, "JB," the most exemplary Marine I have known- and that bar is set high.