Remember The Fallen

In Flanders Fields

 [B]In Flanders fields the poppies blow[/B]
 [B]Between the crosses, row on row,[/B]
 [B]That mark our place; and in the sky[/B]
 [B]The larks, still bravely singing, fly[/B]
 [B]Scarce heard amid the guns below.[/B]

 [B]We are the dead. Short days ago[/B]
 [B]We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,[/B]
 [B]Loved, and were loved, and now we lie[/B]
 [B]In Flanders fields.[/B]

 [B]Take up our quarrel with the foe:[/B]
 [B]To you from failing hands we throw[/B]
 [B]The torch; be yours to hold it high.[/B]
 [B]If ye break faith with us who die[/B]
 [B]We shall not sleep, though poppies grow[/B]
 [B]In Flanders fields.[/B]

 — [B]Lt.-Col. John McCrae[/B]


I have always read everything I could about the wars but I always think what these great people could have done had they not went to war and not come back. It is always easy to talk about how great a battle like Dday was until you look at those who did not come back from the battle. God let there be less war.
never never never forget what they did for us.

He was getting old and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with buddies; they were the heroes, every one.
And though sometimes to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we’ll hear his tales no longer, for he has passed away,
And the world’s a little poorer, for a soldier died today.

No he won’t be mourned by many, just his friends, children, and wife,
For he lived a very quiet sort of ordinary life.
He held a job, and raised a family, quietly going on his way.
And the world won’t note his passing; though a soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories from the time that they were young,
But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land,
Some jerk who breaks his promises and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow, who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country and offer up his life?
The politician’s stipend and the style in which he lives,
Are sometimes disproportionate to the service that he gives,
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal and perhaps a pension small.

It’s so easy to forget them, for it was so long ago
That the husbands, sons, and fathers went to battle, but we know
It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom that our country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger with your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out politician with his waffling stand?
Or would you want a soldier who has sworn to defend,
His home, his kin, and country, and would fight until the end?

He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us, we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict, then we find the soldiers part,
Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.
If we cannot do him honor while he’s here to receive the praise,
Then at least let’s give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps a simple headline in the paper that might say:
"Our Country is in Mourning, for a Soldier Died Today"
Lawrence Vaincourt

New Zealand is remembering…

The 90th anniversary of the end of World War I has been marked around the country, as New Zealanders honour those who fought and died in the conflict.
The armistice to end the fighting between the allies and Germany on the Western Front, came into effect at [B]the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918[/B]…

New Zealand sent around 100,000 men and women to the war from a population of just over one million. Around 18,000 died and over 40,000 were wounded.
The war left nine million soldiers and five million civilians dead and 21 million wounded. -

[I]In a foreign field he lay
lonely soldier unknown grave
on his dying words he prays
tell the world of Paschendale

Relive all that he’s been through
last communion of his soul
rust your bullets with his tears
let me tell you 'bout his years

Laying low in a blood filled trench
killing time 'til my very own death
on my face I can feel the falling rain
never see my friends again
in the smoke in the mud and lead
the smell of fear and the feeling of dread
soon be time to go over the wall
rapid fire and the end of us all

Whistles, shouts and more gun-fire
lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
be reunited with my dead friends soon
many soldiers eighteen years
drowned in mud, no more tears
surely a war no one can win
killing time about to begin

Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again

The bodies of ours and our foes
the sea of death it overflows
in no-man’s land God only knows
into jaws of death we go…

Crucified as if on a cross
allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
such before has never been seen
swear I heard the angels cry
pray to God no more may die
so that people know the truth
tell the tale of Paschendale

Cruelty has a human heart
every man does play his part
terror of the men we kill
the human heart is hungry still

I stand my ground for the very last time
gun is ready as I stand in line
nervous wait for the whistle to blow
rush of blood and over we go…

Blood is falling like the rain
its crimson cloak unveils again
the sound of guns can’t hide their shame
and so we die in Paschendale

Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire
running straight at canon fire
running blind as I hold my breath
say a prayer symphony of death
as we charge the enemy lines
a burst of rounds and we go down
I choke I cry but no one hears
feel the blood go down my throat

Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again

See my spirit on the wind
across the lines beyond the hill
friend and foe will meet again
those who died at Paschendale

I will never forget the sacrifice they made & I salute those still standing a watch.

Their falling right now.

Here in the USA at least, never have so many owed so few for what they have today. IMO, we need to consider EVERY day as one to honor those who have sacrificed, and are continuing to sacrifice, so much for us all.

The Soldier

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.

Rupert Brooke (1887 - 1915)

Although written from the English point of view, any countries name could be inserted and it’s still valid.

I always remember the fallen.Having been in the airforce.
I also had an uncle recently die who was in the airforce during
the korean war. I wish they could fight wars with robots
so we wouldn’t lose our guys. I am also a realest and know
until then we will have men.women die in wars.

A moment of silence.


Story Here

UTR: Thanks for sharing that with us