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yvr girl Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 11:02 AM
Original message
In Flanders Field
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.

- John McCrae


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ewagner Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 11:05 AM
Response to Original message
1. Vey appropriate
I remember years ago watching a Charlie Brown special with my kid where the Peanuts gang visited Flanders Field in France and Lucy recited this poem....

at the end, she asked "What have we learned Charle Brown? What have we learned?

I ask that every memorial day.......What have we learned?

Thank you so much for posting this.
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farmbo Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 11:06 AM
Response to Original message
2. For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out,the brute!"
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!


(Thanks for starting this thread...and thanks to our Veterans!)

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T Wolf Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 11:07 AM
Response to Original message
3. The sick thing is to see the freeper reaction to this.
They think it is a call to war on everyone who is different from them. The idiots do not get that it is an ANTI-WAR message.

I've been there and you cannot take any message away except that war is not a good thing. That is, if you have a brain and a soul.
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yvr girl Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 11:26 AM
Response to Reply #3
6. Please keep this thread positive
It's about honouring the sacrifice of those who served.
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yvr girl Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 11:18 AM
Response to Original message
4. The Last Post and Reveille
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yvr girl Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 11:21 AM
Response to Original message
5. We Will Remember Them
They shall not grow old as we who 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.


Wherever you are on Remembrance Day, when the clock climbs to the eleventh hour, would you please stop what you're doing and spare two minutes of silence in respect for the sacrifices made on our behalf by brave Canadian men and women so that we may indeed live free in this blessed land.
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alterfurz Donating Member (723 posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 11:38 AM
Response to Original message
7. Every year on this day in grade school in the early 50s...
...I remember the class standing for two minutes of silence at 11:00am...I'll note that time today in remembrance of all those George W. Bush has sent, is sending, and will send to equally senseless slaughter.

When I reflect that God is just, I tremble for my country.-- Thomas Jefferson
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iverglas Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 12:02 PM
Response to Original message
8. Peter Gzowski always played this one
and one year, driving along with the radio on, I turned into a shopping mall and ordered the tape.

http://www.fortunecity.com/tinpan/parton/2/matilda.html

Eric Bogle's Australian, and his commentary on his song is there. Australia, like Canada, "became a nation" in WWI, and the song is for the veterans of Gallipoli.


Now when I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover.
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
It's time you stop ramblin', there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they marched me away to the war.

And the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As the ship pulled away from the quay,
And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.

And how well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water;
And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he primed himself well;
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell --
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
When we stopped to bury our slain,
Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
Then we started all over again.

And those that were left, well, we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead --
Never knew there was worse things than dying.

For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda,"
All around the green bush far and free --
To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,
No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me.

So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.

But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
Then they turned all their faces away.

And so now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glory,
And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask meself the same question.

But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?

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Spazito Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 01:51 PM
Response to Original message
9. Have any of you heard the song 'A Pittance of Time' by Terry...
Kelly? I heard it for the first time on the radio yesterday and was very moved by it. I did a search and it seems the song was written in 1999 and there is a video with it. The link to it is on the Canadian Army National Defense website:

http://www.army.forces.gc.ca/LF/English/6_1_1.asp?Flash...
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Swede Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 07:01 PM
Response to Original message
10. Today I went to the veterens gravesite.
My dad and uncle are laid to rest there. I went to the cenotaph and sat there,it was a nice sunny day. They both survived the war and came home and started families,but so many of there friends didn't.
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whirlygigspin Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Thu Nov-11-04 09:30 PM
Response to Reply #10
11. Lest we forget
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ironflange Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sat Nov-13-04 11:59 PM
Response to Original message
12. Anthem for Doomed Youth - 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 good-byes.
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.

Set by Benjamin Britten in "War Requiem." Followed in that work by these lines:

Kyrie eleison
Christe eleison
Kyrie eleison

:cry:
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