They shall not grow old as we who are left shall grow old

[Voice of Reason]

Voice of Reason Senior will be laying a wreath at Haywards Heath tomorrow. WW2 veteran, sunk in the Med by a German u boat.

Proud.

 

[Alex Alex Dawson oo! oo!]

ANTHEM FOR DOOMED YOUTH
by Wilfred Owen

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 goodbyes.
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.

 

[West Hoathly Seagull]

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.

Indeed. I take it your boys will be remembered at the Albert Hall tonight. I attended the wreath laying ceremony at the Home Office yesterday. When the Permanent Secretary read the above lines out, I found tears filling my eyes (my grandfather was invalided out in a sudden attack on Bari Harbour when his ship was in port, and though he did not die, Dad and I regard him as a war victim, as he lost a lung and was never the same again). By the way, did anyone see our 'enry on the Ten O'Clock News last night? I can't watch anything about him without getting weepy. He might have been born elsewhere, but I see him as a true man of Sussex.

 

[Buzzer]

I know what you mean, WHS.

I went to Belgium a few years back and saw the war graves. It's impossible to imagine the humanity buried there without welling up. At times we may be a belligerent, chippy country but when you see so many people wearing poppies in this country from tiny children to the old boys who fought alongside those that fell...and let's not forget the old dears who also served or lost husbands, brothers, fathers, lovers, I'm proud that we remember them and those still protecting our country so well.

 

[glasfryn]

They fought to give us the freedom we have now,God bless them all.

 

[tedebear]

My Pop served with the Australian Army for 6 years from Oct 1940 and was discharged in November 1945. I have his service number but nothing esle except where he was when he was discharged which was here:

2 AUST BEACH W/S AEME (AIF)

but Dad thinks he was at some time in New Guinea as he has some trinkets in a box.

Dad has done some digging and we're slowly finding out what happened to him as apparently he was never ever the same again, became and alcoholic and suffered from terrible psychological traumas which made him violent, he died when I was about 10 and I remember him as a very scary tall skinny man sitting in the corner of a dark room wrapped in a blanket rocking backwards and forwards, shouting things.

Dad wants to know so he can understand, I'd just like to know so I can be proud of him, no matter what it turned him into.

 

[London Calling]

"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, if oft delayed,
Thought 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!

A classic, a very moving classic.........................

 

[pasty]

I went to Belgium a few years back and saw the war graves. It's impossible to imagine the humanity buried there without welling up. At times we may be a belligerent, chippy country but when you see so many people wearing poppies in this country from tiny children to the old boys who fought alongside those that fell...and let's not forget the old dears who also served or lost husbands, brothers, fathers, lovers, I'm proud that we remember them and those still protecting our country so well.

I went to Ypres as part of my 20th Century History O-Level when I was 14 or 15. We all treated it as a bit of a jolly and a laugh and were generally mucking about as teenagers do. That is until we started visiting the war cemetaries, and hearing The Last Post being played every night at the Menin Gate entrance to the town. Extremely moving, even to a lary teenager, and the memory is still with me to this day.

http://www.greatwar.co.uk/westfront/ypsalient/meningate/lastpost.htm

 

[London Calling]

Personnally, I think we should go back to Remembrance day onto the 11th, at the 11th hour, all over the Country people, the old, the young, the teacher, the pupil, the boss, the staff, should all stop and remember.

We have tucked Remembrance Day away to a Sunday to be a mimimum inconvenience, whilst I say, it should become one of the more important days of our lives.

We cry out for a Bank Holiday, here is one for you and no greater reason needs to be given, that these men and women, young and old gave there lives for us to be free.

LC

 

[Yorkie]

Personnally, I think we should go back to Remembrance day onto the 11th, at the 11th hour, all over the Country people, the old, the young, the teacher, the pupil, the boss, the staff, should all stop and remember.

We have tucked Remembrance Day away to a Sunday to be a mimimum inconvenience, whilst I say, it should become one of the more important days of our lives.

We cry out for a Bank Holiday, here is one for you and no greater reason needs to be given, that these men and women, young and old gave there lives for us to be free.

LC

It was called Armistice Day when it was 11th but then for convenience it was changed to Remembrance Sunday.

 

[dougdeep]

Personnally, I think we should go back to Remembrance day onto the 11th, at the 11th hour, all over the Country people, the old, the young, the teacher, the pupil, the boss, the staff, should all stop and remember.

We have tucked Remembrance Day away to a Sunday to be a mimimum inconvenience, whilst I say, it should become one of the more important days of our lives.

We cry out for a Bank Holiday, here is one for you and no greater reason needs to be given, that these men and women, young and old gave there lives for us to be free.

LC

Tomorrow is the 11th.

 

[Bry Nylon]

Indeed. I take it your boys will be remembered at the Albert Hall tonight.

My watch will be part of the Rememberance Day parade past our local war memorial tomorrow, and I have the honour of laying a poppy wreath in memory of all the men and women who have paid the ultimate price in the service of their country. My dad was in the navy, as was my mum (was a Wren), so in many ways Rememberance Sunday is the most important day of the year for me.

 

[smudge]

I too went to Ypres with the school & remember it being exactly the same. I found my Gran's 2 younger brothers names on Menin Gate. One was in the Kings Liverpool Regt & one was a good old Bootneck, (Royal Marine).

Apart from the Falklands, my 26 years in the RN was pretty much one big piss up compared to what the young people in the Army & Marines are doing these days. Hats off to them.

I'll be thinking of a few old mates who copped it in '82 & all the generations from my family who went through WW1 & WW2, especially another Gt Uncle who survived a Jap POW camp in Singapore, but it pretty much robbed him of quality of life for his remaining days.

 

[The Auditor]

I'd just like to know so I can be proud of him, no matter what it turned him into.

Same happen to a relative of mine...never the same after the Falklands ..drank himself into an early grave

 

[Cheshire Cat]

Disabled

He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.

About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim, –
In the old times, before he threw away his knees.
Now he will never feel again how slim
Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands.
All of them touch him like some queer disease.

There was an artist silly for his face,
For it was younger than his youth, last year.
Now, he is old; his back will never brace;
He's lost his colour very far from here,
Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,
And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race
And leap of purple spurted from his thigh.

One time he liked a blood- smear down his leg,
After the matches, carried shoulder-high.
It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg,
He thought he'd better join. – He wonders why.
Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts,
That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg,
Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts
He asked to join. He didn't have to beg;
Smiling they wrote his lie: aged nineteen years.

Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt,
And Austria's, did not move him. And no fears
Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled hilts
For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes;
And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears;
Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits.
And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers.

Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal.
Only a solemn man who brought him fruits
Thanked him; and then enquired about his soul.

Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
Tonight he noticed how the women's eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why don't they come
And put him into bed? Why don't they come?

Wilfred Owen - October 1917

 

[Barrow Boy]

"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, if oft delayed,
Thought 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!

Wow, I'm knocking on a bit but I've never read this powerful and beautiful poem before, who wrote it?

 

[Cadiz Seagull]

I imagine it was an Americam

 

[Yorkie]

A search says Don Crawford.

 

[portslade seagull]

I go to france golfing once a year and we drive thru the Somme battlefields and the War cemeterys are all over and so well kept,respected..We need to keep the lessons being taught in school of what these brave men sacrificed to allow us to live how we do now.. Most of them are the age of my eldest son..such a waste

 

[Yorkie]

A search says Don Crawford.

It seems to be from a BBC website asking for contemporary poetry for Remembrance Day.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/remembrance/poetry/contemporary.shtml