Thus begins "The Crisis" by Thomas Paine , December 23, 1776.
THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated.
As I watched the video of my brothers in arm from the Smedley D. Butler Brigade of Veterans for Peace chapter getting arrested, that opening line immediately came to mind. But it not just us Veterans For Peace who are "winter soldiers", it is all of the occupiers who are facing not only the powers that be but the coming winter. The health and welfare of those on the ground and holding it require not just our moral support but our logistical support.
I know that there donation pouring in to the various occupations. The OWS Mothership has an incredible amount of information on the occupations, including how to donate. Find a local occupation and consider giving till it hurts if you can't be there.
These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Some day you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn
To be brothers in arms
Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I've watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms
There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones
Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms