NationStates Jolt Archive

For all the troops sent to fight battles at the behest of their political masters, regarless of what I may think of why some wars have come to pass or whether they could have been avoided, let me take the proper moment today on November 11th to thank you for having answered the call to duty. for putting your life on the line for those who will never know your name. For standing guard so that we might sleep comfortably.

On a personal note, I especially thank my Grandfather and his two brothers who both served throughout the entirety of the Canadian combat contribution in WWII in Britain, Italy, France, and the Netherlands. My uncle who retired as deputy head of personel of the Canadian forces, and to my cousin who is currently serving in Kabul. You, and all your compatriots in uniform all have my everlasting thanks and respect.

I join you in your sentiment.

Well said.

Indeed! Some pictures I took in my hometown 2 years ago..

http://www.stephaniesworld.com/files/war_m.jpg

http://www.stephaniesworld.com/files/war_m1.jpg

http://www.stephaniesworld.com/files/war_m3.jpg

http://www.stephaniesworld.com/files/war_m4.jpg


Canada, true, strong and free!

Never Again!

Well, will be a beautifull viewagain to see the thousands of red poppies fall from the Menen gate at Ypres (Ieper) late this afternoon.

For the first time, there won't be one WWI vet at the remembrance. Last Belgian vetdied this year and the 106 year old Brit could not comeon medical advise.

Today we pay tribute and honor the memory of soldiers killed in wars throughout the years. Regardless of nationality, race.....they made the ultimate sacrifice so we could live in "peace".
Lest We Forget.


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 now here in this country of ours... you, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway 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.
- Ataturk 1934


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.
- Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

I invite you to share some of your poems.
#RP#

In Flanders Fields

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

RENDEZVOUS

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air--
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath--
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous

Allan Seeger

In Flanders Fields

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


And for those that do not know the history of the poem commonly recited on this day.....


John McCrae was a Canadian medical officer in both the Boer War and World War I. As a surgeon attached to the 1st Field Artillery Brigade, the poem "In Flander's Fields" was written after he had spent seventeen days treating injured men -- Canadians, British, Indians, French, and Germans -- in the Second Battle of Ypres.

This was the first battle in which the Germans unleashed chlorine gas on an unsuspecting and unprepared enemy. The French/Algerian line took the brunt of the first assault and having no gas masks were forced to flee or die. Most did not flee fast enough as the approaching cloud of poison was assumed to be just a smoke screen prior to an infantry attack - a tactic in common use. The Germans advanced a couple of miles and then waited for the gas to completely clear before advancing further - largely because the German soldiers were horrified at what they found the gas had caused and wanted to proceed with caution as a shift in the wind could have driven the gas back into them. During that time the Canadians moved south to cover the hole in the line. Also under-equipped for the situation, the troops tied urine-soaked cloth or gauze pads around their faces during the continuing gas attacks because the ammonia in their urine mostly countered the effects of the poison gas. This did not, however, adequatly protect the eyes and many lost their vision during the battle.

By the end of the 17 days, over 100,000 total casualties on all sides had been sustained - but the allied line held. For comparison purposes, that number equates to about half the amount of total casualties sustained by the United States over the entire Vietnam War which lasted 11 years ( aprox. 200,000 total combat casualties - 47,000 dead, 153,000 wounded).

It had been an ordeal that McRae had hardly thought possible, and later he wrote of it: "I wish I could embody on paper some of the varied sensations of that seventeen days... Seventeen days of Hades! At the end of the first day if anyone had told us we had to spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands and said it could not have been done."

One death particularly affected McCrae. A friend and former student, Lieut. Alexis Helmer of Ottawa, had been killed by a shell burst on 2 May 1915. Helmer was buried later that day in the cemetery outside McCrae's dressing station and McCrae performed the funeral ceremony in the absence of the chaplain.

The next day, sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near the dressing station, McCrae vented his anguish by composing the poem. It was very nearly not published. Dissatisfied with it McCrae tossed the poem away but a fellow officer retrieved it and sent it to newspapers in England. The Spectator in London rejected it, but Punch published it on 8 December 1915 to critical acclaim.

In 1918 McCrae died at the age of 40 in the way most men did during that war, not from a bullet or bomb but from disease: pneumonia in his case. After his death Moira Michael wrote a poem in reply, 'We shall keep the faith', in which she promised to wear a poppy ‘in honour of our dead’. This began the tradition of wearing a poppy in remembrance.

The poppies themselves are another story. The native poppy in that area has seeds that will lie dormant for years. They only germinate when the earth is tilled or otherwise disturbed. So after a major battle, or in graveyards, the fields often bloomed a brilliant scarlet of it's own accord as if to honor the bloodshed recently given after the mortars had tilled the earth.

The guns of WWI fell silent on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918. The War to End All Wars as it was then (somewhat hopefully) known was over. The cost of the first modern war was staggering. Over 65 million combatants. Between 9 and 10 million fatalities depending on which source you accept. Over 21 million wounded.

The world was sickened, and vowed to remember the cost.

The First Two Minute Silence in London (11th November 1919) was reported in the Manchester Guardian, 12th November 1919 as follows:

"The first stroke of eleven produced a magical effect.

The tram cars glided into stillness, motors ceased to cough and fume, and stopped dead, and the mighty-limbed dray horses hunched back upon their loads and stopped also, seeming to do it of their own volition.

Someone took off his hat, and with a nervous hesitancy the rest of the men bowed their heads also. Here and there an old soldier could be detected slipping unconsciously into the posture of 'attention'. An elderly woman, not far away, wiped her eyes, and the man beside her looked white and stern. Everyone stood very still ... The hush deepened. It had spread over the whole city and become so pronounced as to impress one with a sense of audibility. It was a silence which was almost pain ... And the spirit of memory brooded over it all."


We Shall Keep the Faith by Moira Michael

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.

Well said, Zeppistan. My thanks and respect to all who died during the wars, and to all the veterans who have either died since or are still alive.

Do you know that the wearing of the poppy is now considered controversial in this country (Northern Ireland)? That utterly disgusts me. It is seen as a political statement supporting Unionists. This, if I may be so blunt, is bullshit. While the Republic of Ireland officially was neutral during WW2 (not sure about WW1), plenty of Irish soldiers fought alongside the allies. I respect their input as much as I respect anyone else's. All those that fought did so in an attempt to keep the world free, and for the wellbeing and happiness of so many people that came after them.

That deserves immense respect and gratitude, not silly bickering about the silly situation here.

Thanks to all who fought, and RIP to those that have passed on during/since the wars.

http://www.trabel.com/ieper/ieper-flandersfields.htm

from the city of Ieper (ypres is a translation)
Click on the logo an vissit our great and modern flanders field museum.

Vissit here: http://www.inflandersfields.be/ (go to the characters and follow one of their stories)

Think, I ll hop in the car and will have a drink at Ypres (45 min drive for me, I live in Flanders).

What do you think about this different approach of our museum, I mean o placing men centaly instead of a new millitary "histoire battaille"?
I saw the Imperial war museum to, but the brand new Flanders field museum is much more emotional and impressive.

What do you think about this different approach of our museum, I mean o placing men centaly instead of a new millitary "histoire battaille"?

I saw the Imperial war museum to, but the brand new Flanders field museum is much more emotional.


As a Canadian I feel a great sense of honor that so much thanks is given to a Canadian solider from across the world. We surely reflect on this day, but we also should be thankful for all that was given for our freedom and liberty. For this, I shall never take my freedom for granted. For this, I remain convicted in my hopes and dreams of never again

Vissit here: http://www.inflandersfields.be/

Think, I ll hop in the car and will have a drink at Ypres (45 min drive for me, I live in Flanders).

What do you think about this different approach of our museum, I mean o placing men centaly instead of a new millitary "histoire battaille"?
I saw the Imperial war museum to, but the brand new Flanders field museum is much more emotional.


The design of the museum is interesting, and I like the touch of the personal biography database. It wasn't there when I visited the cemetary at Paschendaele in '78 or I would have toured it. Speaking from a personal level, I find it ironic that despite the use of McRae's peom, and the notices in the dialogue about the Canadian Army's contributions to the battles there that not one of their featured bios on the site is Canadian. But that is just my own nationalistic feelings speaking. The Flanders region was where the Canadian Army finally really distinguished itself as a seperate entity from it's previous inclusion a a subordinate part of the British Army, so we take a little extra pride in it's actions there.

Two Fusiliers by Robert Graves

And have we done with War at last?
Well, we've been lucky devils both,
And there's no need of pledge or oath
To bind our lovely friendship fast,
By firmer stuff
Close bound enough.

By wire and wood and stake we're bound,
By Fricourt and by Festubert,
By whipping rain, by the sun's glare,
By all the misery and loud sound,
By a Spring day,
By Picard clay.

Show me the two so closely bound
As we, by the red bond of blood,
By friendship, blossoming from mud,
By Death: we faced him, and we found
Beauty in Death,
In dead men breath.



BTW I recommend you all to read 'Goodbye to all that' by Robert Graves (pub. 1929), if you can find a copy that is.

TOMMY
by Rudyard Kipling

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

Valor (1916)
by General George S. Patton

When all the hearts are opened
And all the secrets known
When guile and lies are banished
And subterfuge is gone

When God rolls up the curtain
And hidden truths appear
When the ghastly light of Judgement Day
Brings past and present near....

Then shall we know what once we knew
Before wealth dimmed our sight
That of all the sins, the blackest is
The pride which will not fight.

The meek and pious have a place
And necessary are,
But valor pales their puny rays
As does the sun a star.

What race of man since time began
Has ever yet remained
Who trusted not its own right hand
Or from brave deeds refrained?

Yet, spite the fact for ages known
And by all lands displayed
We still have those who prate of peace
And say that war is dead.

Yes, vandals rise who seek to snatch
The laurels from the brave
And dare defame heroic dead
Now filling hero graves.

They speak of those whose love,
Like Christ's, exceeds the lust of life
As muderers slain to no avail
A useless sacrifice.

With infamy without a name
They mock our fighting youth
And dare decry great hearts who die
Battling for right and truth.

Woe to the land which, heeding them,
Lets avarice gain the day
And trusting gold its rights to hold
Lets manly might decay.

Let us, while willing yet for peace,
Still keep our valor high
So when our time of battle comes
We shall not fear to die.

Make love of life and ease be less
Make love of country more
So shall our patriotism be
More than an empty roar.

For death is nothing, comfort less
Valor is all in all
Base nations who depart from it
Shall sure and justly fall.

Here's another one of his War poems:

When I'm Killed

When I'm killed, don't think of me
Buried there in Cambrin Wood,
Nor as in Zion think of me
With the Intolerable Good.
And there's one thing that I know well,
I'm damned if I'll be damned to Hell!

So when I'm killed, don't wait for me,
Walking the dim corridor;
In Heaven or Hell, don't wait for me,
Or you must wait for evermore.
You'll find me buried, living-dead
In these verses that you've read.

So when I'm killed, don't mourn for me,
Shot, poor lad, so bold and young,
Killed and gone - don't mourn for me.
On your lips my life is hung:
O friends and lovers, you can save
Your playfellow from the grave.

And the hymn our school sings on 11.11:

1. O God, our help in ages past,
our hope for years to come,
our shelter from the stormy blast,
and our eternal home.

2. Under the shadow of thy throne,
still may we dwell secure;
sufficient is thine arm alone,
and our defense is sure.

3. Before the hills in order stood,
or earth received her frame,
from everlasting, thou art God,
to endless years the same.

4. A thousand ages, in thy sight,
are like an evening gone;
short as the watch that ends the night,
before the rising sun.

5. Time, like an ever rolling stream,
bears all who breathe away;
they fly forgotten, as a dream
dies at the opening day.

6. O God, our help in ages past,
our hope for years to come;
be thou our guide while life shall last,
and our eternal home.

I'd like to thank everyone. Its nice to here some people who still respect the vets instead of people who just wear the poppy because it tradition.

Here's a few little bits and pieces I found from various websites. Particulary www.awm.gov.au

In the big communications trench in Vaire Wood one party of about a dozen which was led by a German who laughed when one of the diggers said to him, "Finis le Guerre."

"Yes," he replied, "my fucking oath!" He said he learned the English language on the Boulder mine in Western Australia, and had been called back to Fatherland early in 1914."
- Private Ernest Morton, 2nd Machine Gun Battalion, 1918

I am fed up ... With our dopes of Officers they are the biggest curs ... Some of them they get decorations by getting men killed for nothing ... little wonder the men go mad at times.
- Letter, Private Ronald Simpson, 29 July 1918.



BLANK FIRE
I landed in London and straight away rode
Direct to Headquarters in Horseferry Road;
A bucksheesh Lance Corporal said, "Pardon me, please,
You have dust on your tunic and dirt on your knees,
You look such a sight that people will laugh,
Said the cold-footed --- of Horseferry Staff.

"Your hat should be turned up at the side like mine
Your boots, I might state, are in want of a shine,
Your puttees are falling away from your calf;
Said the cold-footed --- of Horseferry Staff.

The soldier gave him a murderous glance,
"Remember I'm just home from the trenches in France,
Where shrapnel is flying and comforts are few,
Where the soldiers are dying for --- like you.

"You bully the soldier you meet in the street,
And tell them you suffer from frost-bitten feet,
While your mates in the trenches fight on behalf
Of you cold-footed --- of Horseferry Staff.

"You speak to a soldier you cold-footed cur.
What of your Mother, did it ever strike her,
That her son was a waster and afraid of a strafe,
Who hangs on to his job at Horseferry Staff."
- Lieutenant W. T. Barnes



The little one everyone forgets though...

http://www.awm.gov.au/1918/soldier/images/51153.jpg

These are men from an Australian-Canadian task force sent to fight the Soviets in 1918-1919. Pictures and info are very hard to find...as such, i'm not sure how many died.

To the Glorious Dead, to whom we owe all.

On the 11th hour of 11th day of the 11th month in 1918, peace was finally concluded with the Central Powers. A war that had destroyed so much and killed so many was over and all that was left were the poppies, row on row.

Such was the gratitude of the British government and people to the heroic sacrifice of its soldiers, it was decided that a state funeral would be held for one soldier, one unknown corpse on the battle strewn fields of France. His body was taken to Westminister Cathedral where it was placed, an equal in the hall of Kings. He is the Unknown Warrior, the symbol of lost youth and noble sacrifice.

So today, we remember those who died. Those who never saw their homes again. Never again saw the lands for which they had fought. Never again saw the friends and family whose liberty they had died for.

If only it had been the war to end all wars.

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
-Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.


What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.


Wilfred Owen.

The High Ground

( In loving memory of PVT Peter Borsay,
and the rest of the 53,000 )

Remember how important "high ground" always was,
and how we fought to hold it, despite the bullet's buzz?

Now you hold new high ground, far away and high.
Do you watch down on us still here, from high ground in the sky?

And I'll be along directly, my brother and my friend.
I'll help you hold the high ground; new lands will we defend.

I'll have your back, my brother, and you'll be there for me.
Just like so many other times, fighting to be free.

So many now don't understand the sacrifice, the cost.
Have they so soon forgotten? Is honor truly lost?

And I'll be along directly, my brother and my friend.
I'll help you hold the high ground; new lands will we defend.

Yet now we see the new breed, warriors brave and true.
They do us proud; they remember those like me and you.

I know they make you glad, these young ones in the fight.
They keep the pledge to freedom, to honor, and the right.

So I'll be along directly, my brother and my friend.
I'll help you hold the high ground; heavn's lands will we defend.


© Forrest Lee Horn
CPT, INF, USA ( Retired/Disabled )

AT dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun
In the wild purple of the glow'ring sun,
Smouldering through spouts of drifting smoke that shroud
The menacing scarred slope; and, one by one,
Tanks creep and topple forward to the wire.
The barrage roars and lifts. Then, clumsily bowed
With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear,
Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire.
Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear,
They leave their trenches, going over the top,
While time ticks blank and busy on their wrists,
And hope, with furtive eyes and grappling fists,
Flounders in mud. O Jesus, make it stop!

Siegfried Sassoon.

Veteran's Day in the US.

I made a point to thank every veteran of military service I know, and to remember those I couldn't thank.

I know we have a fair number of veterans and some active service personnel here. Thank you all for your service.

Poems:
Now when I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover.
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
It's time you stop ramblin', there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they marched me away to the war.

And the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As the ship pulled away from the quay,
And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.

And how well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water;
And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he primed himself well;
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell --
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
When we stopped to bury our slain,
Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
Then we started all over again.

And those that were left, well, we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead --
Never knew there was worse things than dying.

For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda,"
All around the green bush far and free --
To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,
No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me.

So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.

But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
Then they turned all their faces away.

And so now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glory,
And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask meself the same question.

But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?

Eric Bogle

And, for those who do not die but may wish they had ...

DOES it matter?--losing your legs?...
For people will always be kind,
And you need not show that you mind
When the others come in after hunting
To gobble their muffins and eggs.

Does it matter?--losing your sight?...
There's such splendid work for the blind;
And people will always be kind,
As you sit on the terrace remembering
And turning your face to the light.

Do they matter?--those dreams from the pit?...
You can drink and forget and be glad,
And people won't say that you're mad;
For they'll know you've fought for your country
And no one will worry a bit.

Siegfried Sassoon.

Howdy,

Thank you veterans for your courage and your sacrifice of your time, your health, your youth, even your lives so that we may be free. Without your efforts, the world would be alot worse off than it is today.

"War is an ugly thing but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling, which thinks that nothing is worth fighting for, is much worse. A man who has nothing for which he is willing to fight; nothing that he cares about more than his own safety is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself." -John Stuart Mill

Take the time to show your appreciations for the veterans in your life today. Happy Veterans Day!

Veteran's Day in the US.

Remembrance Day in Canada :)

Lest We Forget (http://www.canada.com/national/features/remembranceday/index.html)

I made a point to thank every veteran of military service I know, and to remember those I couldn't thank.

I know we have a fair number of veterans and some active service personnel here. Thank you all for your service.

I'm curious...I don't know if you're native Japanese or just living there...but how are veterans typically treated over there? Do they have days of honour...marches, that type of thing?

I guess the military culture that they were raised with would make it hard for many of them to see the "honour"...but just wondering.

Remembrance Day in Canada :)

Lest We Forget (http://www.canada.com/national/features/remembranceday/index.html)


Yes, indeed, I am well aware of that. :)
And so it is also named in the UK, Australia, NZ, France, Belgium, and most other countries remembering it. We USAians just had to be different. ;) Different name, same sentiments.

And the war poem that haunts me:

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
Randall Jarrell

That last line gets me every time... :(

And I am surprised this hasn't been put up yet:
DULCE ET DECORUM EST

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen

So, what are you doing today? HAve you observe a two minuates silance or a three? Did you wear a poppy or didn't you? Did you wear a white one?

I salute every vet and every other active duty Soldier, Sailor, Airman, and Marine. Semper Fi.

Two minutes silence came naturally...I was in an exam at 11:00 our time.

So I spent the past couple of hours looking at poems and pictures. I feel proud.

*And curiously, I can't find my Grandfathers brother on our list of war dead...very odd.

STATEMENT BY THE PRIME MINISTER FOR REMEMBRANCE DAY


November 11, 2004

"I was privileged this past spring to travel to France for ceremonies marking the 60th anniversary of D-Day. I watched as veterans stepped again on the sands of the Normandy coast and stared out into the waters, which six decades before had held so many Allied warships that, in the words of one solider, it was as though you could jump from one to another, right across the English Channel. I stood and talked with veterans at the Canadian War Cemetery at Beny-sur-Mer, a place of great beauty and a poignant shrine to valour and sacrifice.

Many of the fortifications along the beaches of Normandy are now sinking into the sand. Overtime, there will be fewer veterans to tell of their exploits and their heroes. It falls to us therefore, to the Canadians of now and tomorrow, to ensure the remembrance of those who sacrificed. It falls to us to keep an eternal vigil to the memory of their selflessness and their courage. We must never forget those who fought for Canada. We must cherish the freedoms that so many died to protect.

As we observe two minutes of silence each of us will reflect in our own way - perhaps thinking of a husband or sister, a friend or family member that never returned home, perhaps praying for the safety of a soldier and loved one currently deployed overseas. We are fortunate as Canadians. We enjoy many blessings. Let us always remember the cost, and those who paid it."

I'm curious...I don't know if you're native Japanese or just living there...but how are veterans typically treated over there? Do they have days of honour...marches, that type of thing?

I guess the military culture that they were raised with would make it hard for many of them to see the "honour"...but just wondering.

Ex-pat American.
The military culture (to the extent that it actually existed - it was extensively mythical) largely evaporated in the aftermath of WWII. The closest thing to a rememberance day Japan has is Hiroshima day. It isn't a national holiday.
I have met veterans of WWII. Most keep it fairly quiet.

I have been reading Embracing Defeat (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0393046869/102-3632540-6282510?v=glance) recently, and it paints a pretty bleak picture of the returning military people in the aftermath of WWII. They were largely blaimed for the hard times. I reccomend it highly.

Ex-pat American.
The military culture (to the extent that it actually existed - it was extensively mythical) largely evaporated in the aftermath of WWII. The closest thing to a rememberance day Japan has is Hiroshima day. It isn't a national holiday.
I have met veterans of WWII. Most keep it fairly quiet.

I have been reading Embracing Defeat (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0393046869/102-3632540-6282510?v=glance) recently, and it paints a pretty bleak picture of the returning military people in the aftermath of WWII. They were largely blaimed for the hard times. I reccomend it highly.

That's pretty much what I thought it would be like. I knew about Hiroshima day, but I can't imagine them having parades like we do...not even in Germany I would expect it.

(I know enough about Japanese culture in day to day life...but despite studying the language for 7 years, I never found one Japanese teacher that would talk about the war...apart from the Hiroshima peace memorial, etc... It seems to be a very taboo subject.)

And I definitely will be checking out that book. My holidays just started and I need some stuff to read :)

Almost twenty years ago, I was walking in Ottawa with friends, when we came upon the Canadian War memorial. A girl I knew at that time took one quick look at it, and pronounced her disgust that taxpayer's money should be spent on a memorial glorifying War.

I stopped dead in my tracks, and took the time to gently explain that the memorial was there not to serve to glorify War, but to serve to remind us of the effort and sacrifice made on our collective behalf by our fellow Canadians. I was and continue to be well-known within my social circle as being wholly opposed to War and violence, and she could not understand how I could defend the War memorial.

I told her that while I may not agree with violence as a means to end conflict, that the men and women memorialised here did, and although I might not agree with their beliefs, that I could at least respect them for their selflessness, and remember that they went to War on my behalf.

She drifted from my orbit soon after this incident, and perhaps doesn't remember that day in Ottawa, but it stays with me. It gives impetus to my desire to see us as one species, undivided, with War to be considered a childish option where conflict arises.

To those fallen, may your spirits be free. To those who would make War, may you live to see the consequences of War, and may you live to atone for your pride.

Almost twenty years ago, I was walking in Ottawa with friends, when we came upon the Canadian War memorial. A girl I knew at that time took one quick look at it, and pronounced her disgust that taxpayer's money should be spent on a memorial glorifying War.

I stopped dead in my tracks, and took the time to gently explain that the memorial was there not to serve to glorify War, but to serve to remind us of the effort and sacrifice made on our collective behalf by our fellow Canadians. I was and continue to be well-known within my social circle as being wholly opposed to War and violence, and she could not understand how I could defend the War memorial.

I told her that while I may not agree with violence as a means to end conflict, that the men and women memorialised here did, and although I might not agree with their beliefs, that I could at least respect them for their selflessness, and remember that they went to War on my behalf.

She drifted from my orbit soon after this incident, and perhaps doesn't remember that day in Ottawa, but it stays with me. It gives impetus to my desire to see us as one species, undivided, with War to be considered a childish option where conflict arises.

To those fallen, may your spirits be free. To those who would make War, may you live to see the consequences of War, and may you live to atone for your pride.


Anyone who has ever thought that the War Memorial glorifies war has no idea what it stands for.

If you ever drop back to Ottawa, there is a new one as well off of Sussex Drive near the National Gallery. Given that most of our losses over the past 40 years have been in the pursuit of conflict resolution through other means, there is now a National Peacekeeping Monument to those who have served, and sometimes fallen, in the defence of others.

I feel for every soldier who gave his life in defence of his country, but let us remember the millions of innocent civilians too who fell during times of conflict, many of whom showed amazing courage in the face of an enemy.
Let us also remember the sad and futile loss of our brave soldiers who died needlessly at the behest of corrupt and greedy Governments who saw what others had and wanted it for themselves, to be sent into war for the wrong reasons and to lose your life in that war must be the biggest wrongdoing ever.
Our armies are *defenders* of our countries against attack, so I will also remember all the fallen Iraq soldiers, fighting an invading force.

I remember and salute all the soldiers from all countries who fought in every single war that's happened. R.I.P :)

God bless all of the soldiers fighting anywhere for their country. War is a terrible thing and should not be glorified. But the countless live lost must always be remembered, or else they would have died in vain. We must show honor and rememberance for all of the fallen men and women in all wars. Wheter they be American, Canadian, British, French, Dutch, German, Iraqi, Japanese, Russian, Chinese, or any other nationality. If you don't know your history it will repeat itself. In all wars "All give some, but some give all." Thank you everyone who has helped serve any country in the world.

HAve you observe a two minuates silance or a three?Certainly. I was at home, but I would have liked to have shared in the traditional two minutes in the centre of the city. I think I probably will on Sunday - although officially today is Rememberance Day, the official commemorations in the UK usually take place on the Sunday closest to 11 November - in the case of this year, 14 November.
Did you wear a poppy or didn't you? Did you wear a white one? Two red ones, with little green 'leaves'. I wear them for about 10 days or a fortnight before Remberance Day; I'm not ashamed to show that I'm proud and grateful to the fallen soldiers and veterans of war.

I don't know if I'm weird for getting so emotionally involved, but I almost always shed a tear when I see all those lovely old men (and women sometimes) on TV laying their wreathes. It must have been absolutely horrid for them. Well, they're heroes to me :)

I have a special place on this day. My great grandpa died 2 hours after WW1 ended due to bad communications. Every year we salute him. Thank you again.

Chris Tubbs - 1964-1984

God bless buddy. You are missed.