Lest we forget

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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 6:21 pm

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 8:02 pm

Thanks to all that have served, past and present. A special nod to my brothers in the 187th Infantry Regiment .

Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 8:55 pm

Yes. Let us not forget the sacrifices of all of our men and women.

Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 9:09 pm

Harry Patch wrote:

We came across a lad from A company. He was ripped open from his shoulder to his waist by shrapnel and lying in a pool of blood. When we got to him, he said: 'Shoot me'. He was beyond human help and, before we could draw a revolver, he was dead. And the final word he uttered was 'Mother.' I remember that lad in particular. It's an image that has haunted me all my life, seared into my mind.

It's impossible to consider the grief of conflict having been fortunate enough to have lived in the most peaceful period in Europe's history.

Whatever your personal thoughts of the individual conflicts we still wage, we still all need to show thanks and respect to the servicemen who go with every best intention to make the world a safer place. Next year there is a big Help for Heroes concert planned in Cardiff, your support is appreciated.

Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 9:22 pm

Quote:

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Binyon, 1914

Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 10:24 pm

Special prayers for those wounded and the families of those killed by a single demented individual at Fort Hood.

This year I am particularly remembering a woman who served in the US Navy from 1968-1970 - not in combat, but still serving her country. She passed away two months ago. She was my roommate for the past thirteen years, and I am very proud that she served her country.

Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 11:28 pm

<-- Avatar is a Poppy badge produced by the Australian RSL.

In 1918 Seigfreid Sassoon wrote:

We'd gained our first objective hours before
While dawn broke like a face with blinking eyes,
Pallid, unshaved and thirsty, blind with smoke.
Things seemed all right at first. We held their line,
With bombers posted, Lewis guns well placed,
And clink of shovels deepening the shallow trench.
The place was rotten with dead; green clumsy legs
High-booted, sprawled and grovelled along the saps
And trunks, face downward, in the sucking mud,
Wallowed like trodden sand-bags loosely filled;
And naked sodden buttocks, mats of hair,
Bulged, clotted heads slept in the plastering slime.
And then the rain began,— the jolly old rain!

A yawning soldier knelt against the bank,
Staring across the morning blear with fog;
He wondered when the Allemands would get busy;
And then, of course, they started with five-nines
Traversing, sure as fate, and never a dud.
Mute in the clamour of shells he watched them burst
Spouting dark earth and wire with gusts from hell,
While posturing giants dissolved in drifts of smoke.
He crouched and flinched, dizzy with galloping fear,
Sick for escape,— loathing the strangled horror
And butchered, frantic gestures of the dead.

An officer came blundering down the trench:
'Stand-to and man the fire-step! 'On he went...
Gasping and bawling, 'Fire- step...counter-attack!'
Then the haze lifted. Bombing on the right
Down the old sap: machine- guns on the left;
And stumbling figures looming out in front.
'O Christ, they're coming at us!' Bullets spat,
And he remembered his rifle...rapid fire...
And started blazing wildly...then a bang
Crumpled and spun him sideways, knocked him
out To grunt and wriggle: none heeded him; he choked
And fought the flapping veils of smothering gloom,
Lost in a blurred confusion of yells and groans...
Down, and down, and down, he sank and drowned,
Bleeding to death. The counter-attack had failed.

Posted: Sun Nov 08, 2009 12:03 am

I've visited the battlefields of WW1, and the graveyards that go on forever in serried ranks of white Portland stone.

I think it should be a compulsory school trip.

Lest we forget. 1100hrs 11/11/18

(From the Thiepval Memorial to the Missing)

Posted: Sun Nov 08, 2009 3:47 am

This one kind of hits me in the chest. I learned about The Green Fields of France from my grandfather who was in France in Nov 1918 as a 17 year old doughboy. He lied about his age to get into the Army at age 16 and was the youngest WW1 veteran in my home state when he died.

Well, how do you do Private William McBride?
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside?
And rest for awhile neath the warm summer sun
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done

And I see by your gravestone, you're only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen in nineteen sixteen
Well I hope you died quickly, I hope you died clean
Or poor Willy Mcbride, was it slow and obscene?

Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the pipes lowly?
Did they bugles carry you over as they lowered you down?
And did the band play 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers Of The Forest'?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And though you died back in nineteen-sixteen
In that faithful heart are you always nineteen?

Or are you a stranger without a name?
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane
In an old photograph, torn and tattered, and stained.
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame.

Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the pipes lowly?
Did they bugles carry you over as they lowered you down?
And did the band play 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers Of The Forest'?

Well the sun's shining down on these green fields of France
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance
The trenches have vanished long under the plow
There's no gas, no barb wire, there's no guns firing now

But here in this graveyard that's still no-man's land
The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
The whole generation was butchered and damned

Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the pipes lowly?
Did they bugles carry you over as they lowered you down?
And did the band play 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers Of The Forest'?

And I can't help but wonder young Willy McBride
Do those that lie here know why that they died?
And did they really believe you when you told them the cause
Did they really believe that this war would end wars?

Well the suffering, and the sorrow, the glory of pain
The killing and dying they were all done in vain
For young Willy McBride it's all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again...

Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the pipes lowly?
Did they bugles carry you over as they lowered you down?
And did the band play 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers Of The Forest?'

Posted: Sun Nov 08, 2009 6:43 pm

Whenever i read about it i just can't comprehend what happened. Some insane leaders of nations send their soldiers to the battlefields for what..........just to die?

Posted: Sun Nov 08, 2009 8:16 pm

Lest We Forget

RIP all the brave men and women of our country who loved their country enough to give their all.

Would I be so Brave ? I would like to think so

Posted: Sun Nov 08, 2009 9:19 pm

I remember seeing a war memorial when I was in my early teens that read

Quote:

To those who can never forget
We can but say
We, too, remember.

Posted: Sun Nov 08, 2009 9:48 pm

the vampire wrote:

Whenever i read about it i just can't comprehend what happened. Some insane leaders of nations send their soldiers to the battlefields for what..........just to die?

What made the Great War especially hellish was that the political and military leaders alike were out of their depths. The technology of war had drastically improved since 1870 (the last time major European nations had fought) and very few people (certainly no-one in a position of power)quite realised how that would work out. They assumed a quick, decisive war of a few set-piece battles. But after the early moves of 1914, when the trenches were in place, the technology of defence was vastly superior to that of the attack, and communications had not kept up either; on a tactical level, commanders were little better off than they might have been in Napoleonic times.

Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 12:49 am

Dire Straits - Brothers In Arms
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6oWvAGmiCo

Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 3:40 am

Titania wrote:

Special prayers for those wounded and the families of those killed by a single demented individual at Fort Hood.

Flags here in Texas are still at half-staff.

I am glad that lunatic didn't die in the shooting like he had definitely hoped... he will face military justice.

Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 4:14 am

At approximately age 7 I had the honor of visiting the Pearl Harbor memorial. I distinctly remember seeing the stacks of the ship and the list of the dead. All I could think about is "this was someone's father. This was someone's son.This was someone's child." Up to that point, all I wanted was to swim in the ocean. After that, not so much. I realized there were more important things.

Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 4:46 am

Some of the noblest words ever spoken are inscribed on a memorial stone in Turkey, at Anzac Cove.

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives; you are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace.
There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours.
You, the mothers, who sent their sons from far away countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace.
After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.

They were said by Mustapha Kemal Ataturk at a commemoration service at the Dardanelles in 1934.

With a very few changes they could appear on any memorial to soldiers who died on French or Belgian soil; the debt is acknowledged in many ways - not least when the remains of Allied soldiers are unearthed; they are treated with dignity and buried with honours.

Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 1:06 pm

Remembrance Day always leaves me saddened.

In recent news we have lost soldiers in Afghanistan, only a few, but they were all someone's son, someone's dad .... all loved by family back home.

I suppose I should feel happy that our tolerance of such seemingly unecessary death diminishes in time and therefore we, or more importantly our children, will not witness the atrocities and massive death counts that our parents and grand parents witnessed during the two World Wars.

We will never forget what those people gave us with their sacrifice .... FREEDOM!

Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 3:40 pm

Thank you, whoever does the logo art - that's a lovely tribute up there.

Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 4:03 pm

/\/\ I think we have Nurse Nasty to thank for all the themed logos.

Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 8:25 pm

Quote:

Freedom is never free.

Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 9:04 pm

^^ How true

Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 12:25 am

I have had the honor of knowing and speaking with those who served from WW! up through the present day.Freedom is never free,and I thank all those who served so that I could be.I raise a glass to those who fought for my freedom,here is to you all,and I wish we could share this drink,and I could hear your stories again.I've seen so many of you go recently.Your deeds will live forever.

Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 2:22 am

On a November 11 ten years or more ago, Canadian folk singer Terry Kelly was in a supermarket in Nova Scotia when at 10:55 the store announced that its staff would be observing two minutes silence at 11 am and asking that cunstomers do the same. When the moment came, all those in the store joined staff in the act of commemoration - except for a man with a young child. Kelly took his resentment at the man's lack of respect - and the poor example he showed his child - and channelled it into a song. It's on You-tube, but the lyrics I think can stand by themselves.

A Pittance of Time
They fought and some died for their homeland.
They fought and some died, now it's our land.
Look at his little child; there's no fear in her eyes.
Could he not show respect for other dads who have died?
Take two minutes, would you mind?
It's a pittance of time,
For the boys and the girls who went over.
In peace may they rest, may we never
forget why they died.
It's a pittance of time.
God forgive me for wanting to strike him.
Give me strength so as not to be like him.
My heart pounds in my breast, fingers pressed to my lips,
My throat wants to bawl out, my tongue barely resists.
But two minutes I will bide.
It's a pittance of time,
For the boys and the girls who went over.
In peace may they rest.
May we never forget why they died.
It's a pittance of time.
Read the letters and poems of the heroes at home.
They have casualties, battles, and fears of their own.
There's a price to be paid if you go, if you stay.
Freedom's fought for and won in numerous ways.
Take two minutes, would you mind?
It's a pittance of time,
For the boys and the girls all over.
May we never forget, our young become vets.
At the end of the line,
It's a pittance of time.
It takes courage to fight in your own war.
It takes courage to fight someone else's war.
Our peacekeepers tell of their own living hell.
They bring hope to foreign lands that hate mongers can't kill.
Take two minutes, would you mind?
It's a pittance of time,
For the boys and the girls who go over.
In peacetime our best still don battle dress
And lay their lives on the line.
It's a pittance of time
In peace may they rest,
Lest we forget why they died.
Take a pittance of time.

Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 1:35 pm

@ Yastreb:

That is my all time favourite remembrance day song/video. It can be found here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYlrrAWCTRg

When our fallen soldiers come back from Afghanistan, they're flown into Trenton (military airport) and then transported down the 401 (a major highway) to Toronto where they are then sent home. They're is a video of the tribute that is paid to them every time one of the fallen come home:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3IutxvltBM