Nov 11. In Remembrance- In Flanders Fields

This is a tribute to all the soldiers who have fallen on the battlefields throughout the past and those of today. In memory of the lives they have lived, and the sacrifices they have made. Also, in honour and thanks to all the veterans who have served for our countries and devoted their lives to our freedom.



In Remembrance


YouTube - In Flanders Fields





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.

Written by Canadian Soldier Lt. Col. John McCree (1872-1918) In WW1 in the Battle of Ypres


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 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.

Written By English poet Laurence Binyon in 1914.



Lest We Forget.


Suzie.​

 

Last night I was listening to some ww1 music on the victrola. I happened to think of the old Flanders field poem. It was nice to see someone else was thinking of it to. Brings tears to the eyes. What a waste.

 

R.W. Lilliard’s response when America joined "The Great War", in reply to Dr. John MaCrae’s In Flanders Fields; named:

America's Answer

Rest ye in peace, ye Flanders dead.
The fight that ye so bravely led
We've taken up. And we will keep
True faith with you who lie asleep
With a cross to mark his bed,
In Flanders Fields.

Fear not that ye have died for naught.
The torch ye threw to us we caught.
Ten million hands will hold it high,
And Freedom's light shall never die!
We've learned the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders Fields.

And let’s not forget the American lady who took the initiative to make the poppy the symbol of remembrance of those who fought, died, or were wounded in WW1 was also a poet. This actually happened on 9th November 1918, two days before the Armistice. On a meeting with war-secretaries of the YMCA (Young Men's Christian Organisation) she decided to buy 25 poppies to be used at the upcoming remembrance.

Perhaps fostered by her earlier reading of Dr. John McCrae’s work. Here follows her poem given away with the poppies to recognize and support McCrae’s earlier poem:

　
We shall keep the faith

Oh! You who sleep in Flanders' Fields
Sleep sweet - to rise anew;
We caught the torch you threw,
And holding high we kept
The faith with those 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 luster to the red
On the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders' fields.

And now the torch and Poppy red
Wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught:
We've learned the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders' fields.

This final offering was penned by Don Crawford (untitled to my knowledge):

"Please wear a poppy," the lady said
And held one forth, but I shook my head.
Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,
And her face was old and lined with care;
But beneath the scars the years had made
There remained a smile that refused to fade.

A boy came whistling down the street,
Bouncing along on care-free feet.
His smile was full of joy and fun,
"Lady," said he, "may I have one?"
When she's pinned it on he turned to say,
"Why do we wear a poppy today?"

The lady smiled in her wistful way
And answered, "This is Remembrance Day,
And the poppy there is the symbol for
The gallant men who died in war.
And because they did, you and I are free.
That's why we wear a poppy, you see.

"I had a boy about your size,
With golden hair and big blue eyes.
He loved to play and jump and shout,
Free as a bird he would race about.
As the years went by he learned and grew,
And became a man as you will, too.

"He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,
But he'd seemed with us such a little while
When war broke out and he went away.
I still remember his face that day
When he smiled at me and said, Goodbye,
I'll be back soon, Mom, so please don't cry.

"But the war went on and he had to stay,
And all I could do was wait and pray.
His letters told of the awful fight,
I can see it still in my dreams at night,
With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,
And the mines and bullets, The bombs and fire.

"Till at last, at last, the war was won,
And that's why we wear a poppy son."
The small boy turned as if to go,
Then said, "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know.
That sure did sound like an awful fight,
But your son, did he come back all right?"

A tear rolled down each faded check;
She shook her head, but didn't speak.
I slunk away in a sort of shame,
And if you were me you'd have done the same;
For our thanks, in giving, if oft delayed,
Though our freedom was bought,
And thousands paid!

So when we see a poppy worn,
Let us reflect on the burden borne,
By those who gave their very all
When asked to answer their country's call
That we at home in peace might live.
Then wear a poppy! Remember - and give

 

America's answer is another beautiful poem. Thanks for posting it.

 

Dulce et Decorum Est

Wilfrid Owen (1917)


Bent double, like of 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 sonic 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 talk with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

 

I worked with a group of 15 year old boys today, helping them to identify War Graves in our local churchyard. They were armed with buckets and scrubbing brushes and spent over three hours scrubbing off the accumulated grime on the headstones.

Steve W.

 

Rest in peace, all those who didn't make it.

And for those who did, may you walk among us in friendship.

You are not forgotten.

 

This is a poem from History and Rhymes of the lost battalion.
By Buck Private McCollum 1919

The Debt

My Pals are all around me, It seems like a horrible dream,
But there goes my "buddie" damn badly hit, I go mad when I hear his scream.

My blood boils red, red rage, and I lose the last of my will;
I'm turned to beast and mad-man, and my cry is to kill-to kill!

I rage and mutter all the night, and wait for the break of day;
for my mind is mad with that one thot, they must re-pay-re-pay!

You're gone old Pal, so why should I lie and say that life's worth while?
Oh gladly I'd join you where you are, just to see once again your smile.

I'll try my best to square the debt, but, Pal, it can never be done;
So may you rest in peace o'er here, 'neath the new-made cross that you've won.

 

my Opa on my mothers side, a German serving under the US flag in WW 1, saw much action............

RIP warrior

 

Excellent poems everybody, some in which I have never heard before, thanks for sharing them.


Suzie.

 

It's hard to imagine what it must have been like during some of the great artillary barrages during the Great War. This is a before and after of Fort Douaumont during Verdun. Bear in mind that the walls of the fort are about one mile apart.

before...



after...

 

i know the poem but others from that time i forget

 

Steve

I am one of a team of two who clean and look after 100 CWGC graves from WW1&WW2 in our local cemetery this is free gratis .

If any of the war graves are in need of other work or identification is not clear can I suggest you take a photo and e-mail CWGC.

Well done Steve to you and your team.

Geoff

 

Geoff,

Well done to you and your colleague, too! A hundred is quite a project. I identified all the graves some time ago. I have a spreadsheet with all the data. I'm now doing some social history research on these men.

The Commission is being very supportive with the work. Ten of the graves have Commission headstones.

Steve W.

 

It's so nice to hear the next generation caring for and tending to the graves of fallen soldiers and vets..

Excellent work, thanks for being part of the effort in keeping the memory of our soldiers alive.