For those of you who don't know, Rescorla was a cornishman, who emigrated to the United states in the early 60s, joined the army (he had already been in the army in the UK, and a Rhodesian policeman) and served with great distinction; most notably at the battle of Ia Drang Valley, memorialized in the book and Movie "We Were Soldiers Once, and Young".
But that's not why most of us know his name.
Rick Rescorla was the security director for Morgan Stanley in the Twin Towers on 9/11. He organized the evacutation of thousands of people (he is credited with being sintrumental in saving the lives of at least 3800 people that day), and was last seen heading back up past the 10th floor, reportedly singing "Men of Harlech" as he worked at getting people out.
Though we don't know what version Rick was singing, (there are many, and they get less anti english as you get newer versions), I like this one best (the original english version - translated from Welsh):
Men of HarlechRescorla has been nominated for presidential medal of freedom, and all I can say is, he earned it and more.
Men of Harlech, march to glory,
Victory is hov’ring o’er ye,
Bright-eyed freedom stands before ye,
Hear ye not her call?
At your sloth she seems to wonder;
Rend the sluggish bonds asunder,
Let the war-cry’s deaf’ning thunder
Every foe appall.
Echoes loudly waking,
Hill and valley shaking;
‘Till the sound spreads wide around,
The Saxon’s courage breaking;
Your foes on every side assailing,
Forward press with heart unfailing,
‘Till invaders learn with quailing,
Cambria ne’er can yield!
Thou, who noble Cambria wrongest,
Know that freedom’s cause is strongest,
Freedom’s courage lasts the longest,
Ending but with death!
Freedom countless hosts can scatter,
Freedom stoutest mail can shatter,
Freedom thickest walls can batter,
Fate is in her breath.
See, they now are flying!
Dead are heap’d with dying!
Over might hath triumph’d right,
Our land to foes denying;
Upon their soil we never sought them,
Love of conquest hither brought them,
But this lesson we have taught them,
“Cambria ne’er can yield!"
Rescorla served with the 7th cavalry at Ia Drang, the same unit that Custer was massacered commanding. Their regimental motto is "Garry Owen" from the Irish folk song. Reportedly custer heard several of his Irish troopers singing the drinking song, thought it had spirit, and that the beat was good to sing on horseback:
GarryowenAnother thread was about James Bond, which got me thinking about Scotland and Sean Connery, which gouth me on to "The Longest Day" (probably the best war movie ever made).
Let Bacchus' sons be not dismayed,
But join with me each jovial blade,
Come booze and sing and lend me aid,
To help me with the chorus,
We are the boys who take delight in
Smashing the Limerick lamps when lighting,
Through the streets like sporters fighting,
And tearing all before us.
Instead of spa, we'll drink down ale,
And pay the reckoning on the nail,
For debt no man shall go to jail,
From Garryowen and glory!
We'll break windows, we'll break doors,
The watch knock down by threes and fours,
Then let the doctors work their cures,
And tinker up our bruises.
Instead of spa, we'll drink down ale,
And pay the reckoning on the nail,
For debt no man shall go to jail,
From Garryowen and glory!
We'll beat the bailiffs out of fun.
We'll make the mayors and sheriffs run.
We are the boys no man dare dun,
If he regards a whole skin.
Instead of spa, we'll drink down ale,
And pay the reckoning on the nail,
For debt no man shall go to jail,
From Garryowen and glory!
Our hearts so stout have got us fame,
For soon 'tis known from whence we came.
Where'er we go they dread the name
Of Garryowen in glory!
Instead of spa, we'll drink down ale,
And pay the reckoning on the nail,
For debt no man shall go to jail,
From Garryowen and glory!
That brought me on to military marches, which brought me to the offical march of the royal navy "heart of oak":
Heart of Oak
Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to this wonderful year;
To honour we call you, not press you like slaves,
For who are as free as the sons of the waves?
Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
we always are ready; Steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
We ne'er see our foes but we wish them to stay,
They never see us but they wish us away;
If they run, why we follow, and run them ashore,
And if they won't fight us, we cannot do more.
Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
we always are ready; Steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
They swear they'll invade us, these terrible foes,
They frighten our women, our children and beaus,
But should their flat bottoms in darkness get o'er,
Still Britons they'll find to receive them on shore.
Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
we always are ready; Steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
Still Britain shall triumph, her ships plough the sea,
Her standard be justice, her watchword "Be free,"
Then cheer up, my lads, with our hearts let us sing,
Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen, and King.
Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
we always are ready; Steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
Our worthy forefathers, let's give them a cheer
To climates unknown did courageously steer
Through oceans to deserts, for freedom they came
And dying, bequeathed us their freedom and fame
Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
we always are ready; Steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
I'm a big fan of the Aubrey and Maturin novels which reference the song often, and it can be heard in the film "Master and Commander". It's an amazing thing to hear the Andrew crews singing this song, still much the same after 250 years; it makes me think that England might have some hope after all.
Anyway finding the original men of Harlech got me on about wales; which got me back on about scotland, and I ended up back at a page about Sean Connery, and another about Catherine Zeta Jones (who knew the welsh could do somethign that beautiful eh), which brought me to one of my favority poems of all time:
Do not go gentle into that good night
-- Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Obviously this has me thinking a lot about my mtoher, and my grandfather... It amazes me that a man like Thomas could write this, and yet he chose to kill himself (he deliberately drank himself to death)...
