Got something to say or just want fewer pesky ads? Join us... 😊
At the going down of the sun and in the morning. We will remember them.
- Thread starter Bry Nylon
- Start date
Sussex Nomad
Well-known member
Amen
RowleyBirkinQ.C(deceased)
New member
Today at 11 I will remember my grandad, a canadian soldier who fought and survived the D day landings. And remember the stories he told me of the dead and dying canadian soldiers he left behind on Juno beach Normandy.
For all of them, we will ALWAYS remember
For all of them, we will ALWAYS remember
happypig
Staring at the rude boys
My Grandad. Came back a broken man.
The Buttery Biscuit Base
New member
It makes me think, could I do what they did?
I don't think so...
I don't think so...
little al
Crystal Palace fan
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.
__________________
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.
__________________
Return of the Rev
Well-known member
Kazenga <3
Test 805843
Beeercan
New member
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.
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.
Moshe Gariani
Well-known member
- Mar 10, 2005
- 12,202
Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)
"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 I 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.
"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 I 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.
Vegas Seagull
New member
- Jul 10, 2009
- 7,782
Thunder Bolt
Silly old bat
There were just 52 villages in the whole of Britain who didn't lose somebody.
BBC News - Thankful villages: The places where everyone came back from the wars
Look at the quote about Wadhurst and it shows just what a sacrifice was made.
For every village like Upper Slaughter there was another like Wadhurst, East Sussex - a place of just over 3,500 people which lost 649 men in WWI, according to research by the historian Paul Reed, author of Great War Lives.
On a single day in 1915 at the Battle of Aubers, 25 men from Wadhurst were killed - just under 80% of all those who went forward into no-man's land, and almost certainly the heaviest per capita casualties of any community in the UK for one day's battle. The majority of the fallen had no known grave.
BBC News - Thankful villages: The places where everyone came back from the wars
Look at the quote about Wadhurst and it shows just what a sacrifice was made.
For every village like Upper Slaughter there was another like Wadhurst, East Sussex - a place of just over 3,500 people which lost 649 men in WWI, according to research by the historian Paul Reed, author of Great War Lives.
On a single day in 1915 at the Battle of Aubers, 25 men from Wadhurst were killed - just under 80% of all those who went forward into no-man's land, and almost certainly the heaviest per capita casualties of any community in the UK for one day's battle. The majority of the fallen had no known grave.
never forget
Hillian1
( . ) ( . )
The Inquisitive Mind of A Child
Why are they selling poppies mummy?
Selling poppies in the town today
The poppies child are flowers of love
For the men who marched away
But why have they chosen a poppy Mummy?
Why not a beautiful rose?
Because my child, men fought and died
In the fields where poppies grow
But why are the poppies so red Mummy?
Why are the poppies so red?
Red is the colour of blood my child
For the blood our soldiers shed
The heart of the poppy is black Mummy
Why does it have to be black?
Black my child is the symbol of grief
For the men who never came back
But why Mummy are you crying so?
Your tears are giving you pain
My tears are my fears for you my child
For the world is FORGETTING AGAIN
Why are they selling poppies mummy?
Selling poppies in the town today
The poppies child are flowers of love
For the men who marched away
But why have they chosen a poppy Mummy?
Why not a beautiful rose?
Because my child, men fought and died
In the fields where poppies grow
But why are the poppies so red Mummy?
Why are the poppies so red?
Red is the colour of blood my child
For the blood our soldiers shed
The heart of the poppy is black Mummy
Why does it have to be black?
Black my child is the symbol of grief
For the men who never came back
But why Mummy are you crying so?
Your tears are giving you pain
My tears are my fears for you my child
For the world is FORGETTING AGAIN
MOG
Miserable Old Git
WHY WEAR A POPPY
By Don Crawford.
"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 in 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, is oft delayed,
Though our freedom was bought - and thousands paid!
And 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!
By Don Crawford.
"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 in 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, is oft delayed,
Though our freedom was bought - and thousands paid!
And 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!
severnside gull
Well-known member
Just listened to the Last Post summoning the army of the dead.
Who could ever wish to forget?
Who could ever wish to forget?
Lady Gull
New member
The Final Inspection
The soldier stood and faced God
Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining
Just as brightly as his brass
Step forward now you you soldier
How shall I deal with You?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my Church have you been true?
The soldier squared his shoulders and said
No Lord I guess I ain't
Because those of us who carry guns
Can't always be a saint
I've had to work most Sundays
and at times my talk was tough
and sometimes I've been violent
Because the world is awfully rough
But I never took a penny
That wasn't mine to keep ...
Though I worked a lot of overtime
when the bills just got too steep
And I never passed a cry for help
Though at times I shook with fear
and sometimes God forgive me
I've wept unmanly tears
I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here
they never wanted me around
Except to calm their fears
If you've a place for me here Lord
It need not be so grand
I never expected or had too much
But if you don't, I'll understand
There was a silence all around the throne
where the saints had often trod
As the soldier waited quietly
for the judgement of his God
Step forward now, you soldier
You've borne your burdens well
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets
You've done your time in hell
The soldier stood and faced God
Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining
Just as brightly as his brass
Step forward now you you soldier
How shall I deal with You?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my Church have you been true?
The soldier squared his shoulders and said
No Lord I guess I ain't
Because those of us who carry guns
Can't always be a saint
I've had to work most Sundays
and at times my talk was tough
and sometimes I've been violent
Because the world is awfully rough
But I never took a penny
That wasn't mine to keep ...
Though I worked a lot of overtime
when the bills just got too steep
And I never passed a cry for help
Though at times I shook with fear
and sometimes God forgive me
I've wept unmanly tears
I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here
they never wanted me around
Except to calm their fears
If you've a place for me here Lord
It need not be so grand
I never expected or had too much
But if you don't, I'll understand
There was a silence all around the throne
where the saints had often trod
As the soldier waited quietly
for the judgement of his God
Step forward now, you soldier
You've borne your burdens well
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets
You've done your time in hell