It has been a while since I started a new topic in the historical archives.
And what a great opportunity to start one this month in tribute to this exceptionnal historic day, Remembrance Day or for our American friends Veterans Day.
What Remembrance Day/Veterans Day represent to you?
Some don't even know what it is and some don't even care what it is about. For me, it's a kind of celebration of life and at the same time a tribute in honor of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in the name of freedom...their lives.
For the Veterans it is a very emotionnal day for while they are still here among the living they also have the vivid memories of the great war and it's horrors in their minds. Remembrance Day/Veterans Day is also for us to be reminded that war and it's consequences are not to be forgotten.
My father was an active member of the Royal Canadian Legion for many years and every year I would participate with him (even though he is not a veteran of war) and march in the veterans parade as his guest and show my support to his veteran friends. I've listen countless of time about these courageous men and women stories and what they went through during the war. Some were deep stories and some were even funny. But in all when these stories were told, one could see the other's eyes watering and speach getting harder. So was the emotion in each storytelling.
While we are all reminded that the great war should not be repeated and peace should prevail, some will say what's the use of Remembrance Day/Veterans Day when there is war raging as we speak? Good question, I guess humanity still hasn't learned from it's mistakes.
On this last note,anyone who is interested in sharing his/her views on Remembrance Day/Veterans Day and what it represent to you are welcome to do so.
To all the veterans , I salute you.
Lady of Avalon
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"Few men are brave:many become so through training and discipline." Flavius Vegetius Renatus
"I think a hero is an ordinary individual who finds strenght to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles." Christopher Reeve
To me Rememberance day is very special as on that day I pay special Honour to the members of my Family who served and died in the wars of the 20th century.
My Father, Cpl. David Campbell 48th RTR, RAC died of wounds sustained in Italy 15 May 1944. My stepdad, Pvt. Raymond McArthur 4th Commando, POW June 1941 to May 1945. L/S Nicholas P. Gibbons, (uncle) H.M.S. Bedouin sunk 15 June 1942 POW to May 1945. Pvt. Henry Holt,(uncle) Hamilton Light Infantry wounded June 1944 Normandy France. Leading Wren, Kathleen Lee (aunt) R.N 1940 TO 1945. WAAF Mary Lee (aunt)R.A.F 1940 to 1945.
These are but a few who served from both my biolgical and adopted Families. Because of their courage and devotion to duty they and countless thousands made it possible for me and millions like me to grow up free.
A short background for any who may not know the origin of Remembrance Day, Vetran's Day in the US. World War I, the War to end All Wars, had dragged on in a stalemate for years. Young men died by the tens of thousands. An entire generation was killed and gone. Then, at the "last moment" a treaty was signed on the eleventh hour of the elevnth day of the eleventh month. That is why November 11 is the day we remember, remember all the lives cut short by war.
When these young men were buried, poppies sprang up in the freshly turned earth. Graveyards became poppy fields. Today, red poppies are the symbol of veterans. The following poem captures some of the emotion of the day.
In Flanders Fields By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army
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.
Here is perhaps the best know British Poem from WW1 by Wilfred Owen:
DULCE DECORUM EST (It is sweet and right to die for your country)
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge Men marched asleep. Many lost their boots But limped on blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Deaf even to the hoots Of tired outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind
Gas! Gas! Quick boys!- An ecstacy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound'ring like a man on fire in 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, chocking, 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 garggling from 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.
I thank you both very much for the wonderfully written poems. I knew about the Flanders Fields poem for I read it a long time ago and it is a deep poem that speaks volume. And the other speak of the harsh reality of one facing death to finaly die, again one cannot be untouched by the words written with such deep emotions.
LOA; This was written by a young Englishman in 2003, his name Kenny Martin.
I WENT TO SEE THE SOLDIERS I went to see the soldiers, row on row on row And wondered about each so still, their badges all on show What brought them here, what life before Was like for each of them? What made them angry, laugh, or cry These soldiers, boys and men.
Some so young, some older still, a bond more close than brothers These men have earned and shared a love, that's not like any others They trained as one, they fought as one They shared their last together That bond endures, that love is true And will be , now and ever.
I could not know, how could I guess, what choices each had made Of how they came to soldiering, what part each one had played? But here they are and here they'll stay Each one silent and in place Their headstones line up row on row They guard this hallowed place.
The Ode of Remembrance: They went with songs to the battle, they were young. Straight of limb, true of eyes, 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.
Lest we forget.
MacE USN/USNR 1973-1985
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MacE AKA Steve Ewing
I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. Job 19:25
"Non sibi sed patriae!"
Reviresco (I grow strong again) Clan MacEwen motto
Audaciter (Audacity) My Ewing Family Motto (descendants of Baron William Ewing of Glasgow, born about 1630)
"Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt." Abraham Lincoln
"Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum." from "Epitoma Rei Militaris," by Vegetius
Heroes aren't athletes who set new sports records or Hollywood actors who make daring films or politicians who make bold promises. Heroes are people who place themselves at risk for the benefit of others.
My Heroes wear flak jackets, flight suits and combat boots, and we owe them a debt of gratitude. America enjoys freedom today because our true heroes, the men and women of the United States Armed Forces, are willing to sacrifice their tomorrows for us.
This Veteran's Day, please pay tribute to the bravery and sacrifice of the men and women who wear our nations uniform. To all our active duty Armed Forces and all our veterans, we at Freedom Alliance salute you and thank you for your service.
What Remembrance Day/Veterans Day represent to you?
It's a moment to formally honor those who have fought and died in defense of their families, homes, and country. Not to honor war, but the warrior. No; we really don't learn from our mistakes, but there are always those willing to answer the call regardless, who pay the price for all of us.
The Piper's Lament
Did you hear the light feet marching, marching down the birch-clad glen? Did you see the piper's streamers floating, floating far behind the men? Did you hear the brave tunes ringing as they swung the drones on high? Did you watch the rhythm of the kilt? Did you hear the war march die? Oh piper lads, Oh piper lads what magic woven spell the magician Breathed within your reeds, is not for mortal voice to tell. The wizard winds through reed and drone the soul draws on to follow after To splendid heights of hero fame or spell bound, led to grim disaster. Did you hear the brave tunes ringing as the swung the drones on high? Did you watch the rhythm of the kilt? Did you hear the war march die?
This is my small contribution to all who are remembered;
They know not From where he came Nor even what his name The Battle Dress he wore Was tattered, frayed And torn The mud smeared Kilt It's Tartan lost Beneath the dirt and blood Swayed with every step Of his bootshot feet The bulging pack Upon his back Was sixty pounds At least. On his head His Tommy Hat Scarred and dented in Sat low across the forehead Shading the face within At Port his Enfield Carried, bayonet tip agleam The Hobs struck sparks On coblestones, his body Fore'rd lean he trod On down the road To fade from sight In the gathering night. On that road A Cemetary Park And to one stone A muddy track And on that stone A Maple Leaf with Words inscribed below 'A SOLDIER OF THE GREAT WAR:
A very moving moment tonight at the hockey game when the poem "The Flanders Fields" was read to the fans followed by a minute of silence and then the piper played "Amazing Grace".
There was no sound only silence. Amazing for such a crowd.
Thank you for your poem CarolinaScotsman for "The Flanders Fields" it has been a long time since I've read it and certainly heard it recited on television. It reminded me how beautiful it is.
And Gentlemen, Camac, MacEoghainn,Patch and Emmet thank you for sharing the lovely tribute to your camarad in arms with poems that depict the hardships of the soldiers. The Heroes.
This morning at 10:30 I along with my comrades of Branch #486 Royal Canadian Legion (Bronte) mustered for parade on the street in front of the Legion Hall. After some brief jostling for position the RSM called Parade,Attention,Dress Right Dress,and with right arm extended and looking to the right we alinged ourselves and the order ready Front was given and surprisingly all heads turn sharply front and the right arm snapped down to our sides, Not bad at all for a bunch of senior citizens.
The order Parade Stand at Ease rang out followed by stand easy. Looking around it was easy to notice that some of our ranks were absent, this has become a yearly occurrence as we grow older and are called to the final muster.Soon the RSM voice boomed out Parade Attention, Parade left Turn. and with the best precission we snapped to the left. The order Colour Party Post rang out and the Parade stood ready. Finally the order Parade by the left, left wheel quick march and to the snarl of the snares and the skirl of the pipes we stepped out smartly on our ten minute march to the Cenotaph.
At the Cenotaph the services began , the Padres read their verses and said their prayers and the names of our departed comrades were read aloud and promptly at 11:00 Last Post sounded followed by Reveille. As the Pipe Major played a lament the wreaths were placed and the Parade reformed for the march back to the Legion. Back at the hall it was Parade Dismissed and after saying hello to a few friends I set off for home which is just a miute walk down the stree.
Back at home it was change out of my Legion Blazer with it medals, grey slacks white shirt and tie, Clothes hung in the closet with my beret on the shelf above ready for the next time they would be donned for another Legion occasion. I brewed a second cup of coffee, ( which is one of the rare time I have two cups) and started this post. As I write it I cannot but reflect that one of these years (I hope not soon) my name will be read aloud and maybe just maybe some will say "Yeah I knew that guy, short, bald , kinda chubby, wore glasses and walked with a bit of a limp."
...... As I write it I cannot but reflect that one of these years (I hope not soon) my name will be read aloud and maybe just maybe some will say "Yeah I knew that guy, short, bald , kinda chubby, wore glasses and walked with a bit of a limp."
Camac.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.' Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.' Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words........
....We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.....
I know as my hair goes gray my memories of my "Brothers in Arms" also grays....but I'll go to my grave knowing I served with the best my country had to offer!
In the 1950s, my brother's best friend was Jerry Honeycutt. In addition, he was like a second older brother to my sister and me. He was one of those kids who was liked by adults, liked and admired by other kids, praised by teachers, a Boy Scout (achieved Eagle), active in church (his father was the Methodist minister, we were the Presbyterian minister's kids) and talented athletically (football scholarship to Duke University). He was also in the Air Force ROTC and upon graduation from Duke went to pilot school.
On 10 November 1967 two F-4 Phantoms took off from Da Nang for a bombing run inside North Viet Nam. 1st Lt. Jerome Honeycutt was in one of the Phantoms. Just as the aircraft were starting their bombing run, radio and radar contact was lost with both planes. A North Viet Namese general later stated that two Phantoms were shot down that day in that place and two airmen captured. None of the four airmen involved were ever seen again. In March 1991, remains were turned over to the US that were identified as 1st Lt. Honeycutt. He was buried with honors at Arlington. May his memory remain bright for those who knew him and his service and sacrifice never forgotten.
A generation earlier, another minister's son was a pilot in the Battle of Britain. John Gillespie Magee, Junior was an American who had won a scholarship to Yale in 1940, but instead of enrolling went north and joined the RCAF. He was killed at age nineteen on 11 December 1941. Not long before his death, he wrote the following poem. I have always associated the poem with Jerry Honeycutt. It speaks of one of those transcending spiritual moments that sometimes happen in war.
High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there, I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air.... Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace Where never lark nor even eagle flew— And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
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