We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

-- King Henry V, Shakespeare

~ ~ ~

My mother-in-law (a human female, she did not HAVE to) volunteered to enlist in the United States Navy not long after Pearl Harbor, and served as an officer "for the duration" -- all the way to Victory in Europe (VE Day) and Victory in Japan (VJ Day).

I'm a bit younger, and I was drafted and served for two years in A Different War. It's suck.

So we're both veterans. I'm a Grunt. She's an old Squid. We sit around or take rides through the beautiful countryside near her Rest Home, and we talk Old Veteran Crap.

If you're not a veteran, but Dad or Mom is a veteran, you know what this boring dumb crap sounds like. Your Dad gets a long-distance phone call once a year -- often on Veterans Day -- from that weird old guy who says, "Hi, this is Louie Slabadooooooski from Six Rivers, Idaho, I was in the Army with your Dad, is he around?" And then for the next half hour you listen to one side of a screwy phone conversation as your Dad finds out what's new with his old Army buddy Louie Slabadoooooski, and he tells some icky guy you never met that you got braces on your teeth, that is so gross. Except for the annual Long-Distance Phone Call from Louie Slabadoooooski, your Dad almost never talks about when he was in the Army.

The Battle of Agincourt in France (England v. France, Winner: England) took place on 25 October 1415, which, entirely by accident and coincidence, happens to be Saint Crispin's Day. Please, Vets and Long-Suffering Spouses and Children and Grand-Children and Great-Grandchildren of Vets, read the following lovely and highly instructional page I just stole from a site called Grouchy Old Cripple in Atlanta. I was Googling for the Date of Saint Crispin's Day.

I really hate Memorial Day (I got them mixed up again, this is the Day for the Dead Guys and Gals) and I really hate Veterans Day (the Day for the Still-Alive Gals and Guys, so that's My Special Day, it's suck) and I usually hide under the bed all day and wait for midnight before I crawl out again. If I have any No No I usually smoke it. There's no TV under my bed.

But I've just decided, 34 years after my Special Two Years in the Army, that I want to celebrate being a Veteran.

I'm going to throw a whomp-ass disorderly irresponsible party for all my Veteran buddies, and for all the Vets in the Lower and Upper Pioneer Valley, and for any American or Allied (

CANADA!!! oh jesus Crusader, I'm [sincerity: ON] really sorry, this is all your fault, you goddam Canadians are so fucking MODEST, you never brag or boast, but on D-Day, the Canadian soldiers landed on a beach nobody down here ever talks about:

http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/juno_beach.htm

The main force that attacked Juno Beach was from the Canadian 3rd Infantry Division and the primary task for the 3rd Division was to move inland and cut the Caen-Bayeaux road and form a link between the British beaches at Gold and Sword beaches.

However, the Canadians met a major problem even before they got to the beach. The attackers had wanted to land at low tide with the German defensive measures exposed. This had come at 04.45, three hours earlier. As the tide was now advancing, the German defensive measures were partially submerged and the demolition engineers were unable to destroy the targets they wanted to. Mines took a heavy toll on the landing craft destroying or damaging 30% of them.

Many Canadian soldiers had to wade ashore. They were not fired at by the Germans as the defenders had set-up their guns to fire at a killing-zone of the beaches - and not out to sea. However, when the Canadians reached the beaches of Juno, they were hit by a powerful wave of firepower. In particular, the first wave of men on the beaches took heavy casualties. It is now estimated that in the first assaults, each Canadian soldier had a 50/50 chance of survival, such was the potency of the German gunfire.

, England, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, Some French People, Poland, A Lot of Dutch People, Australia, New Zealand -- whom have I forgotten, please Leave a Comment) Veteran of World War Two. AND World War One who has a fucking laptop, or uses one of the public library computers. I'm buyin' the Cheap American Beer (Miller, Bud).

UPDATE: NO, I'M BUYIN' THE EXPENSIVE IMPORTED AND MICROBREW BEER FOR MY OLD (and young) VET BUDDIES! GONNA GET SOME OF THAT BELGIAN LAMBIC! AND BELGIAN TRAPPIST MONASTERY BEER, A LITTLE BOTTLE OF THAT SHIT WILL FUCKIN KNOCK YOU FLAT ON YOUR TUCHAS! AND MAYBE E-BAY IS SELLIN' SOME OLD SUMER!!! AND THEN WE'LL ALL SIT AROUND AND SING THE HYMN TO NINKASI!!! WE'LL INVITE NINKASI TOO!!!

I'm going to throw it next Saint Crispin's Day.

I just didn't know the date of St. Crispin's Day.

The Grouchy Old Cripple in Atlanta knew! Thanks, Grouchy Old Cripple!

Your old Army Buddy,

Say don't you remember?
You called me Al!
It was Al all the time!
Say don't you remember?
I'm your pal
Buddy, can you spare a dime?

===================================

www.grouchyoldcripple.com/archives/001441.html

===================================

October 25, 2004
St. Crispin's Day

October 25 is my birthday. It is also St. Crispin's Day which is a very important date in English history.

You've heard John Fonda Kerry drone on about his "band of brothers". Do you know where that phrase came from? No, it wasn't an HBO special. It came from Shakespeare's Henry V. It was the speech that King Henry gave before the battle of Agincourt, on St. Crispin's Day, October 25, 1415, where an outnumbered English army (It was 30,000 French against 10,000 Englishmen) kicked the crap out of the French. They were French after all. Some things never change. Anyway in the spirit of my Hamlet and Marc Antony updates here is the St. Crispin's Day speech.

WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England That do no work to-day!

Holy shit! We are outnumbered! If we only had some of those bloody bastards who are sitting on their asses back in England!

KING. What's he that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland?

Why do you want that cuz?

No, my fair cousin; If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss;

Nope, cousin dude. If we're destined to get our butts kicked there are enough of us.

and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

But if we're gonna win, think of what an upset it would be. They would talk about us for years. It would be like the Jets beating Baltimore in Super Bowl III.

God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.

I don't want any more men. We're fighting the French after all.

By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,

Holy crap! I'm not doing this for money.

Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;

And I don't care if the dudes with me are doing it for money.

It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires.

I don't even care if my men wear my uniforms.

But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.

But if it's a sin to want honor and glory than I am the biggest sinner on the planet.

No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.

Nope! I don't want any more men.

God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour As one man more methinks would share from me For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!

Nope. If I had just one more man he would take honor away from me. I am the quarterback. Just like Namath I want to shine.

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,

Tell the rest of the army,

That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart;

that if there is anyone who is a pussy, get the fuck out of here.

his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse;

Give him three purple hearts. It will be his ticket home.

We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us.

We would not die in the company of a phony bastard such as he that would use scratches to get purple hearts and cut short his tour of duty by 8 months. Get the fuck out of my sight! You are not worthy to die with us.

This day is call'd the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,

When St. Crispin's Day comes around every one who returns home will look at this day proudly.

And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.' Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'


The night before St. Crispin's day he'll roll up his sleeves and show the scars and tell him he got them on St. Crispin's Day at Agincourt.

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day.

He may forget other stuff in old age, but not the Battle of Agincourt!

Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words- Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-

All of our names will be remembered.

Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.

While knocking down some brewskis,

This story shall the good man teach his son;

The old veteran will teach his son.

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world,

And on this day from now until the end of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

our small but happy force, this band of brothers

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

Anyone who fights with me will be my brother. He won't return to England and stab us all in the back by falsely accusing us of war crimes. (OK. I added that last part to make this more relevant to today.)

This day shall gentle his condition;

This day will make him a better person.

Make him a member of the gentry, even if he is a commoner.

If he's lower class this will make him upper class. (And he won't even have to marry for it.)

And gentlemen in England now-a-bed

And all those pussies back home in bed,

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

will know that they were wusses because they didn't have the balls to be with us.

Now lets go kill us some Frogs!

Before the Battle of Agincourt,
25 October 1415

Shakespeare

And GOC.
Posted by denny at October 25, 2004 12:02 AM
Comments

Bappy Birthday, your Grouchiness--you don't look a day over thirty, I swear! :-)

And thanks for yet another great Shakespearean translation! Those always get me laughing so hard I end up with the hiccups...

--TwoDragons
Posted by: Denita TwoDragons on October 25, 2004 12:27 AM

****************

http://zhurnal.net/ww/zw?CrispinCrispian
ZhurnalWiki --

Crispin Crispian

Today, 25 October, is the feast of St. Crispin, the patron saint of cobblers and shoemakers --- an utterly-forgettable square on the calendar, save for the coincidence that it's also the anniversary of the Battle of Agincourt (1415) ...

St. Crispin, martyred in 287, under the reign of Diocletian. Fled, with his brother St. Crispinian, from Rome. Worked as a shoemaker in Soissons while striving to spread Christianity. The brothers were subsequently both thrown into molten lead for their efforts.

Eminently forgetable, and not in the Catholic Calendar of Saints for that matter, where 25 October is instead dedicated to St. Chrysanthus and St. Daria, patrician and wife (former priestess of Minerva), equally forgetable, martyred on unknown date. Condemned to death for their faith, they were stoned and buried alive in an old sandpit on the Via Salaria Nova.

These were in the days when admitting to (or being accused of) unauthorized faiths was in no uncertain terms hazardous to your health. -- Bo Leuf