Veteran's Day 2008

Veteran's Day

In honor of all a Veteran's and especially our Grandfather.

My Grandfather carried a camera throughout World War II, these are some of the pictures he took that are in our possession.

My Grandfather Cpl. Roman Martinez (left) and a good friend. 

Martinez was too long a name, so all my grandpa's friends called him Marty. 

In the Barracks 

One of Grandpa's Friends

(Robert Hill?)

Another Friend

During most of the war my Grandfather was stationed in N. Ireland

We were very excited to find these pictures! This is a twelfth of July parade! The Irish celebrating the defeat of James II while fighting the tyranny of Hitler. 

Bag pipers

An Irish Country road

A castle in ruins from a previous war many years before

A very sobering picture of Belfast, North Ireland 1943.

On the back of this picture is the inscription "Bombed out" 

A good friend of Grandpa's

Col. Fred Deyo in front his plane the Frisco Trudy, that my Grandpa flew in as a tail gunner. My grandpa never mentions Col. Deyo without the utmost respect and affection. He told me once that because he was so young when he enlisted, Col. Deyo looked out for him and treated like his own son.

Lt. Hill, Lt. Bergui, & 1st Sgt. Lipan

England 1944

My Grandfather flew in at least three different planes during World War II, the Frisco Trudy, the Capricorn, and the Virgin Vampire. 

Both B-17 and B-24

A mission over Germany

Towards the end of the war I believe my Grandfather was stationed in both Belgium and Germany.

"Pop and the Old Man"

 "To my pal Marty,  Harry (Pop) Claiborn, Chief Inspector, 325th"

 "Fred A. Deyo   Lt Col. A.E"

"Pop" was the oldest man in the crew, and everyone ever only called him Pop or Old Doc. 

                     

                   

Hg. Sq. 325th Air Service Group

(the Pioneer Group)

Grandpa is in the front eighth from left

Brass hats 325th Air Service Group

1944 Germany

(left to right)

Sgt. Robert Longstreet, Sgt. Old Doc (Harry Claiborn), 

Sgt.Cantansereetti.

(kneeling left to right) Cpl. Roman Martinez, Lt. Robert Hill

By the end of the war Grandpa had been in England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Belgium, and Germany and was more then ready to come home.

The Old Orange Flute

Continuing on the note of William III, (also know as William Prince of Orange to the Dutch) here is the lyrics to a favorite humorous little song of ours. The followers of King William were called Orange Blades.

The Old Orange Flute

In the county Tyrone, in the town of Dungannon 

Where many a ruckus meself had a hand in 

Bob Williamson lived there, a weaver by trade 

And all of us thought him a stout-hearted blade. 

On the twelfth of July as it yearly did come 

Bob played on the flute to the sound of the drum 

You can talk of your fiddles, your harp or your lute 

But there's nothing could sound like the Old Orange Flute.

But the treacherous scoundrel, he took us all in 

For he married a Papish named Bridget McGinn 

Turned Papish himself and forsook the Old Cause 

That gave us our freedom, religion and laws. 

And the boys in the county made such a stir on it 

They forced Bob to flee to the province of Connaught; 

Took with him his wife and his fixins, to boot, 

And along with the rest went the Old Orange Flute.

Each Sunday at mass, to atone for past deeds, 

Bob said Paters and Aves and counted his beads 

Till one Sunday morn, at the priest's own require 

Bob went for to play with the flutes in the choir. 

He went for to play with the flutes in the mass 

But the instrument quivered and cried."O Alas!" 

And blow as he would, though he made a great noise, 

The flute would play only "The Protestant Boys".

Bob jumped up and huffed, and was all in a flutter. 

He pitched the old flute in the best holy water; 

He thought that this charm would bring some other sound, 

When he tried it again, it played "Croppies Lie Down!" 

And for all he would finger and twiddle and blow 

For to play Papish music, the flute would not go; 

"Kick the Pope" to "Boyne Water" was all it would sound 

Not one Papish bleat in it could e'er be found.

At a council of priests that was held the next day 

They decided to banish the Old Flute away; 

They couldn't knock heresy out of its head 

So they bought Bob another to play in its stead. 

And the Old Flute was doomed, and its fate was pathetic 

'Twas fastened and burnt at the stake as heretic. 

As the flames rose around it, you could hear a strange noise 

'Twas the Old Flute still a-whistlin' "The Protestant Boys". 

Tagged again

Johanna has been tagged by Lauren!

Tag rules are to post the sixth picture from folder six of your computer.

I smudged a little bit on this one. The real sixth picture from the sixth folder was of my sister's horse's giant gaping bloody wound on her leg that she got this past June from some nasty barbed wire. I did not want to post that, so here is the sixth of the sixth from my Picasa album. : )

This is a picture of King William III, victor of the battle of the Boyne, and defeater of the tyrant James II! My brother and I pulled this picture off the internet for some invitations we were making for a 12th of July party. For those of you who don't know, July 12, 1690 (by the new calender) is when William and his Protestant army defeated James' French Catholic army by the banks of the Boyne river in Ireland. This battle  secured the English crown for King William III and Queen Mary II and freedom from James II for good.  This is one of our family's many favorite periods of history. Not only for the significance it had directly then for England, Ireland, Scotland, and all of Europe, but for the major significance it has had on our own country's war of independence,  forming of government, and the preserving of our religious freedom! Thank God for The Glorious Revolution of 1688!

His-story is so amazing!!!

The ScotsWorthies

"A cloud of witnesses lie here, 

Who, for Christ's interests, did appear;

For to restore true liberty,

O'erturned then by tyranny.

Theses heroes fought with great renown;

By falling got the martyr's crown!"

From the monument at Rullian Green