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Received this morning in personal email:
From Belinda Jasmine, daughter of Richard:
My dad passed away Sunday, February 1st, at 9:00AM.
Sorry I couldn't let you guys know sooner.
Thanks for all of your support through this difficult time.
Belinda
When there is more information we will update the post.
The attached pictures are from Ben Brenneman MarCad Classmate and friend of Richard J Jasmine. The first four were from Vietnam and the last is Ben and Richard Class 14 1965. Thanks Ben.
Posted : 2009-02-02 14:47
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Richard Jerome Jasmine
From Ben Brenneman:
Posted : 2009-02-03 02:51
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Richard Jerome Jasmine (another picture from Ben Brenneman)
From Ben Brenneman:
Posted : 2009-02-03 02:56
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Richard Jerome Jasmine (another picture from Ben Brenneman)
Submitted by Ben Brenneman:
Posted : 2009-02-03 03:00
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Richard Jerome Jasmine and Ben Brenneman Class 14 1965 Prefight Pensacola FL
From Ben Brenneman:
Posted : 2009-02-03 03:08
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Services for Richard Jerome Jasmine MarCad and HMM-163 Squadron Member
From W Halverson's post in the Squadron's Thread:
Posted : 2009-02-07 01:14
You Few
From his pictures, he seems like a very kind soul.
St. Crispen's Day Speech
William Shakespeare, 1599
Enter the KING
WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
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!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship 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,
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.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
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 accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Posted : 2009-02-07 14:16
sounds good to me
Posted : 2010-03-08 03:17
