Since November 10th, 1775, when the Continental Congress authorized two battalions of the Continental Marines to be formed, American Marines have honorably served from the Halls of Montezuma to the Shores of Tripoli and beyond "to fight for right and freedom and to keep [their] honor clean." Samuel Nicholas ("the fighting Quaker"), the first Marine (and Commandant) would be proud of the Marines who've served honorably during the last 241 years in every clime and place. May God bless the Marine Corps, and may God bless these United States in the years ahead. Proud of our son, Armstead Liebl, who continues what is now a family tradition of USMC service.
Ray Edward Liebl, circa 1959 (age 22)
(1937-1992)
Served in USMC (1954-1976); Last MOS 2549
Vietnam War ( 1968-1969 (Purple Heart)
Vernie Roy Liebl, circa 1980 (age 22) USMC (1980-2006); Last MOS 0202
Today, our son Armstead Brandon Burki Liebl left with other poolees for Parris Island USMC boot camp for recruit training to become a US Marine. How apropos a date for him to leave...the fight is a generational one over ideology, identity and way of life.
IF
By Rudyard Kipling
(1865-1936)
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son.
A Man is He Who is Resolute
By Khushal Khan Khattak
(1613-1689)
A man is he who is resolute And who will share his blessings, Who's gentle with his fellow men. In all he does in life; His face, his face-- his word, his word. His promise always kept. Who never lies, never deceives, Never succumbs to greed; Whose words are few, many his deeds, All silently performed. Who's like a rosebud, smiling mouthed, His breast open to see; When there is talk of lowliness Or else stateliness. Who's like the heavens in his grandeur, Or humble as the dust. In dignity like to the cypress, But in bounteousness Like to the vine, its branches laden, Spread in all directions. His face bright as a new blown rose That makes the garden fair, While all around the nightingales Pour out their joyous song.
