11.11.11

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of 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 condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.


They mingle not with 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.
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Lest we forget.

Dimple said:
Instead of posting in here it would be great if some of you turn up at your local Cenotaph on Sunday.
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Please, not today.
 
Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet - to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With All who died.

We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.

And now the Torch and Poppy Red
We wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders fields.

By Moina Michael 1918 inspired by :


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.

John McCrae 1915.
 
Remember all those who gave their lives for freedom from tirany. The hour approaches, their actions never forgotten
 
I saw a boy marching, with medals on his chest.
He marched alongside Soldiers, marching six abreast.
He knew it was Remembrance Day, he walked along with pride
And did his best to keep in step with the soldiers by his side.

... And when the march was over the boy looked rather tired.
A soldier said. "Whose medals son?" to which the boy replied,
"They belong to my Dad, but he didn't come back.
He died out in Afghanistan, up on a Helmand Track".

The boy looked rather sad, and a tear came to his eye,
But the soldier said, "Don't worry son, I'll tell you why,"
He said, "Your dad marched with us today, all the bloomin way,
All us soldiers knew he was here, it's like that on Remembrance Day."

The boy looked rather puzzled he didn't understand
But the soldier went on talking, and started to wave his hand,
"For this great land we live in, there's a price we have to pay,
To keep our Country free, and fly our flag today.

Yes we all love fun and merriment in this country where we live,
But the price was that some soldier his precious life must give,
For you to go to school, my son, and worship God at will.

Somebody had to pay the price, so our soldiers paid the bill.
Your dad died for us my son, for all things good and true.
And I hope you can understand these words I've said to you".
The boy looked up at the soldier and after a little while,
His face changed expression, and he said with a beautiful smile,
"I know my dad marched here today, this our Remembrance Day,
I know he did, I know he did, all the bloomin way!

RIP.
 
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The call centre I work in observed the 2 minute silence. We had to tell the cust we had on the line that we would be going silent at 11am and they would either have to bear with us or call back later.
 
To all those that made the ultimate sacrifice, I salute you.

Gone but not forgotten :)
 
My 1st time being over here in Uxbridge (not far from the Historic RAF base) at my new job, there was a canon 'BOOM' at precisely 11am (from the base) and the entire company went silent!...

We're a very multinational company from us English and Scots, to Indians, Sikhs, West Indians, Chinese... to name a few... and EVERYONE was silent... till the 'BOOM' 2 minutes later :)
 
My Wife will be laying the Writhe at the Cenotaph in Cirencester for the British Red Cross Volunteers.

I'll be there too, paying my respects to those fallen heroes!.
 
remembranceday.jpg
 
Craig1981 said:
We'll hold you to that! :D
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You've got it in writing now ;)

Was really annoyed with my work when it got to about 11:20 this morning and no-one had even mentioned a minutes silence :(

I had a winge and everyone fell silent at 11:30 for two minutes.

Better late than never imho.
 
There is a lot of cant at this time of year. People apeasing their conscience by buying a poppy. The truth is Govt. does forget the soldiers, especially the wounded which is a national disgrace. Servicemen having to rely on people's charity to get treatment.
The MOD should be legally responsible for the welfare of all ex-soldiers. Maybe Govt. would be less inclined to get involved in foreign adventures if they had to look after a serviceman for the rest of his life if he was injured.

Tommy by Rudyard Kipling is probably nearer the mark.

At this time of year I am reminded of the Eric Bogle song, especially this verse,

Now young willie mcbride I can't help wonder why
Do those who lie here know why did they die
Did they believe when they answered the call
Did they really believe that this war would end wars
Well the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain
The killing and the dying were all done in vain
For young willie mcbride it all happened again,
And again and again and again and again.
 
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