UPDATE!!!!

KENNY'S ARM IS DOING ALOT BETTER...THE DR. IS PLEASED WITH THE WAY ITS HEALING, HOWEVER, THE HAND IS A DIFFERENT MATTER. BECAUSE THE DR. PUT THE PLATE AND SCREWS IN THE ARM, THEY HAD TO MOVE THE NERVE BUNDLE FROM OFF OF THE MUSCLE AND PUT THEM ON TOP OF THE PLATE AND NERVES DON'T LIKE TO BE MOVED!!! SO NOW HIS HAND IS SLOWLY REGAINING MOVEMENT AND HIS WRIST IS STILL NOT DOING TO MUCH. HE DOES HAVE OT(OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY) 2 TO 3 TIMES A WEEK AND HE SAW A NERVE SPECIALIST THE END OF AUGUST. THE DR. TOLD HIM THAT HE TOOK A REALLY BAD FALL AND WE JUST HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE WHAT THE NERVES ARE GOING TO DO. HE ALSO SAID THAT WE NEED TO KEEP THE MUSCLES MOVING AS WELL AND WE HOPE THAT AFTER A YEAR THE MUSCLES WILL ACCEPT THE NERVES...PLEASE KEEP US IN PRAYER...ITS GETTING BETTER, BUT ITS VERY SLOW...THANKS FOR ALL THE PRAYERS AND THOUGHTS FOR US, THEY ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED...CYNTHIA AND KENNETH

Welcome to the 9th month of the year, seems like time is marching on...Let's all pray that this month the good Lord will spare us from this heatwave we are still having and we hope everyone is happy and healthy...We would like to thank everyone who has put flowers on our family and friends memorials and sent corrections and/or more information...May God bless each and every one of you and your families and we hope the ones that have school aged children, it will be a good year...Lots of love and prayers to all...Please be stay safe out there....Love and prayers sent to all, Kenny and Cindy Love

My name is Cynthia Love and I am married to my soul mate and best friend, Kenneth E. Love II, and we are still holding strong...we have three wonderful children and five beautiful grandbabies...I was born in Germany as a Army brat...but came home when I was really little...trying to find my family members...any questions, please let me know...hope everyone is happy and healthy...My husband Kenneth E. Love II was born in Columbia, South Carolina and we met when we were really young. Thanks to the U.S. Army, we traveled as a family for many years. I have been working on our family history. I would be happy to answer any questions with anyone working on their history, etc...Working on our families- Moninger or Moniger, Chriscoe, Brown, Sessoms, Norton, Love, Bodiford, Still, Hair, Lancaster, Simmons, Buell, Baxley's and others. Our families are from Sea Grove, Asheboro, Moore, Randolph County North Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Hilda , Barnwell, Denmark, Bamberg, and Olar, SC...Trussville, St. Clair Springs, Birmingham Alabama...We enjoy finding our history and we would like to say a big Thank You to all who have put their time and efforts in doing Find A Grave...Thank Y'all!!!! If we can help any one around in our area of Lugoff SC, Columbia SC, or surrounding areas, please let us know. All the best to everyone and God Bless!!! Kenny and Cindy

*** 5th Infantry Division, U.S.Army ***

Die Rotten Teufels. WE WILL

Hello Veterans, Military Spouses, including those who support the Armed Forces, have loves ones who served and were lost in the service of "Our Country"....God Bless you all. I served three years with the 5th Infantry Division (Mech) - The Red Diamond Division along with some others while in the Army. I am working on a long task of adding Soldiers who served in the 5th Infantry Division from all eras of Service. If you have a love one or know someone who served with the 5th Infantry Division and would like to have them added to this Memorial please contact me. It will be my pleasure and honor to add them. I am also a member of The Society of the 5th Division which was started by the Soldiers of the 5th Division right after WWI, which ended in 1918 and the Society was formed in 1919 . Thank you for looking and reading and God Bless you and keep you.

WE WILL - " Die Rotten Teufels"

Ol' Sgt. Kenny Love (DV) U.S.Army

Bravo Battery 1/55 ADA (V) , 5th Infantry

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JOHN 14

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God[a]; believe also in me. 2 My Father's house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. 4 You know the way to the place where I am going.

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*** The Final Inspection ***

The Soldier Stood and Face His God

Which must always come to pass

He hoped his shoes were shining bright

Just as brightly as his brass

"Step forward now, soldier,

How shall I deal with you?

Have you turned the other cheek?

To my Church have you been true?"

The soldier squared his shoulders and said,

"No Lord I guess I ain't

Because those of us who carry guns

can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays

and at times my talk was tough,

But, I never took a thing

That wasn't mine to keep...

Though I worked a lot of overtime

When the bills got just too steep,

And I never passed a cry for help,

Though at times I shook with fear,

And sometimes, God forgive me,

I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place

Among the people here,

They never wanted me around

Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord,

It needn't be so grand,

I never expected or had too much,

But if you don't I'll understand."

There was a silence all around the throne

Where the saints often trod

As the soldier waited quietly,

for the judgment of his God,

"Step forward now, soldier,

You've borne your burdens well,

Come walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,

You've done your time in HELL.

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

" If a Country is good Enough to Live In ...

It Is Good Enough to Fight For !!! "

The Old Breed ......

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POEM OF A SOLDIER

You praise the man I was, and curse the man I am.

Depending on which God you love, who I will be may be damned.

Yet still I'll sell my soul for you, I'll save us all from our worst selves,

I know no other love than this, I fear no other hell

I am what I am, 'cause I was made to be.

I raise the mountains, bring them down, and push the seven seas.

I reap the grapes of wrath, I am the hand that feeds,

I am the brimstone falling from the angel wings

I damn the damned, and bless the weak.

For the lame walk, and for the mute speak.

The poor and oppressed find their rest in me,

I break the chains and bring forth the free

The destroyer of worlds, I am become of death.

I am enveloping nights, approaching bayonets.

I am the darkest valley where the sword is whet,

the shadow of death is my silhouette

I was forged in a fire lit long ago.

Born of a crucible not my own.

Yet by this birthright in man am I mold,

I am strength multiplied by a thousand fold

I am the photos of loved ones, now nothing but memories.

I am folded flags, torn, tattered and history.

Yet it is I who held high these in Pyrrhic victory,

I am the Idea that we've died for, for all of eternity

I am the scorching heat, I am the bitter cold.

I am the broken sleep that shakes your soul.

I am the naive youth, and the fearful old,

I am the hell you pray you'll never know

I am a soldier, and no one asked me to be.

I raised my right hand and said "God, send me!"

I am the man that the boy I was wanted to be,

The incarnate nightmare of my enemies' dreams

I am the comforting safety we've known at home.

I am the cogs of wars we hope we won't.

Pray you never need me, yet when you do,

I am also the fear which caused you to

I am the cherubim, and original sin.

I rule the fallen world, and the broken men.

From the depths of the waters to the roaring winds,

I am new beginnings and imminent ends

—2nd Lt. George Bruner, U.S. Army

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Letter to the Mountain of Grief - By Phyllis Cole-Dai

Air-sucker. Heart-breaker. Life-wrecker.

Don't take it personally, Grief, but under our breath, or deep down inside, we sometimes call you such names. We have as many names for you as for the fallen of 9/11. As for the pandemic dead. As for the people vanished in floods and wildfires. As for our cherished life partners, gone too soon. As for our precious children, ending their lives by suicide ….

We have as many names for you as our less obvious losses, mourned in shadows. Dear ones who have moved on, or away, from us. Old friends we no longer understand. Animals whose companionship we miss. Lost jobs. Lost homes and homelands. Lost rights. Lost health. Lost youth. Lost trust. Lost hope …

It is said, dear Grief, that you're a mountain; that each of us who is suffering after a significant loss is up at your peak, so injured that we can't carry anyone else down. We must each descend to the plain in our own way, in our own time. The hard path we take on our downward climb will be like no one else's. We'll pass through terrain where nobody else has ever been.

The sad fact is, some of us will never make it back. The trauma we've experienced is too grave, or the going down, too rough.

It's out of concern for those who can't escape your mountain that I'm writing you. I know you'll listen, and fathom what I'm saying. Because, despite all the name-calling, I know it isn't you, really, that robs our lungs of air, or shatters our hearts, or smashes the hell out of our lives when we meet with sorrow. You're just an easy scapegoat.

The real culprit is love. Love that, deprived of its object, has nowhere to go. Love that has been disappointed, distressed, broken, rejected, frightened, or horrified. Love so confused and without direction, it swirls up like a whirlwind and spins off in a daze. Love that, once exhausted, falls flat on the ground and refuses to rise again, believing that getting up and going on would mean abandoning forever what has been lost, as if it never mattered.

It's love, isn't it, that traps some souls on your peak? It's love that corners them in a tight spot on your sheer face, and pins them there.

It's love, too, that tempts us to stay with them, even while, for the sake of our lives, it urges us to hobble away. On this mountain, we can only save ourselves.

So, we must trust your mercies.

I beg you, Grief: Take tender care of those still on your mountaintop. Send sun in the morning to kiss them awake. Send birds with twigs to build them a nest, and berries to feed them. Send breeze to remind them to breathe. Send bugling elks and trickling streams to sing songs of comfort and strength to their despair. Send cups of rock to catch their tears.

Send sweet mist to soothe them in the heat of day. In the cold, send bighorn sheep with thick blankets of fur. When long night falls, send moon and a company of stars to offer them light and help them feel less alone. In the darkest hours, send them radiant dreams and visions.

Finally, O Grief, send our voices echoing up the silence of the slopes. Let the sound surround those whose sadness holds them close to the heavens. In that circle, keep them safe.

Air-stirrer. Heart-holder. Life-bringer.

These, O Grief, are the truest of your names

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God and Soldiers ...All Adore in time of trouble

and of Wars ...

For when the war is Over and All Things Righted .....

God is Neglected......The Soldier Slighted....

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

The farther backward you look, the farther ahead you can see".

Winston Churchill

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Much that once was is Lost ....For None Now Live Who Remember It ******************************************

WWI Soldier. During the First World War, a young man - a barber in peacetime - enlisted in the Iowa National Guard. Soon he found himself part of the 168th Infantry of the 42nd Division, the Rainbow Division.

In July of 1918, the 42nd was committed to battle against the Germans to reduce the Marne Salient. In spite of withering machine gun fire and heavy artillery bombardment, the 168th Infantry took their objective.

During the assault on Hill 212 on La Croix Rouge Farm, as the battle drew to an end, a messenger was needed to deliver an important word to one of the platoons. Private Martin A. Treptow grabbed the message and moved out under fire. As he reached the platoon leader, Treptow was shot down by a hail of bullets. Later, in policing up Treptow's personnel effects, a diary was found in the blood-stained blouse of this doughboy. Written in Treptow's own hands on the flyleaf under the heading, on December 31, 1917, he had written these words:

"The end of a long

Journey

Now bring on

Your Wars

1918 Revolution

America must win this war

Therefore I will work,

I will save,

I will sacrifice

I will endure

I will fight cheerfully and

do my utmost as if the

whole issue of the struggle

depended on me alone."