We Will Remember Them

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 condemn.

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.
Here’s to all those who lost their lives in past conflict, and recent conflict. To those who died protecting their country. On 11th November, at 11am 1918 the armistice was signed and ever since we have taken two minutes silence at 11am to remember the fallen of past and present conflict. I myself have had family fight in both world wars, as well as the recent Afghanistan conflict, so personally I believe that today should be a day of thought and reflection.
Thank you.
Les We Forget.

We Will Remember Them

If I should die, think only this of me: 
That there’s some corner of a foreign field 
That is for ever England. There shall be 
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; 
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, 
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, 
A body of England’s, breathing English air, 
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. 
 And think, this heart, all evil shed away, 
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less 
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; 
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; 
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, 
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
This is not the sort of thing I would normally post however, Remembrance Sunday is an exceptionally important moment in history. Because on the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month 1918, the guns of the First World War fell silent. And at that moment, a peace treaty was signed between the Allies and Germany in a train carriage in the forest of Compiegne. We have celebrated the end of the war every year since, and it’s not only about remembering those who died in World War 1 or World War 2, but also remembering those serving now, remembering those who died in recent conflicts also.

Irish Soldiers on the first day of the Somme

Today it is important that we remember those thousands of men who gave their lives in World War 1, each and every man who died to enemy guns be they on the allied side or the German side; we remember those men and women who fought and died in world war 2 – the soldiers, the nurses, the spies; the men, women and children who died in concentration camps; those who fought and died in more recent conflicts – the Boer Wars of the late 1800’s and the more recent Afghanistan conflict being just two examples. These people have all died serving their country, and we owe each and every one of them for it.
I for one will always remember, I will remember the roles that both my great (great?) grandfathers played in the first world war. Both men fought in France, both survived the entire four year effort, both even fought at the Somme. I will remember the stories that they told me, and the old world war I tin helmet that my grandfather wore during the Somme with the bullet hole in it. He was shot, and the bullet went straight through the helmet, just centimetres away from the top of his head. Lest we forget…
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