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The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month of 1918

We pause to remember . . .

By: The Directors (Diary)  |  November 11th, 2008 at 10:07 AM  | 

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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.

— Lt.-Col. John McCrae

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  • JLM

    Lest we forget.

    • sdillard

      About this time last year, I took the high speed train from Paris to Brussels. It’s route takes it through St Quentin, and on to Lille. While I was on the train, I was aware that the countryside around me was the scene of some of the worst trench battles of WW1. Today, of course, it is a peaceful landscape of small medieval towns and suburbs. Eighty years has softened the scars, but those of us who study history see it all around us, as I did that day.

  • geraldatwork

    …to those that risk their lives to keep us safe.

    • civil_truth

      Let us pray we find our Charles Martel in time to throw back the modern barbarians that we have opened our doors to.

      Or perhaps it is a Charlene who will arise in this age to be our deliverance…

  • Moe_Lane

    It’s a good book, by the way.

    Were you at Thermopylae when Persia crossed the sea?
    Did you lay your bones between your homes and the spears of the enemy?
    Or did you stand before Chalons, with old foes at your side
    And with sword and shield refuse to yield, and stemmed the Hunnish tide?

    Did you ply a boat to Dunkirk? Did you drive a taxicab
    To the Marne’s grim banks and never charge a fare?
    Did you roll down rocks at Mootgarten? Or die at Manzikert?
    Did you shout back “Nuts!” in the frigid Christmas air?

    If you were no strutting conqueror, but fought for hearth and home…
    If you warded the defenseless and shielded them from harm…
    If you swooped in for the rescue, if you ground a tyrant down,
    Accept the thanks from the world’s poor ranks:
    You’ve earned your plot of ground.

  • izoneguy

    My grandfather (WW II),

    My father (VietNam),

    My father-in law (WW II),

    My Brother-In-Law (Bosnia, Haiti, 2 tours – Iraq, still active)

    My sister

    And all the relatives I have that have served this

    great country with honor.

  • furious

    …32d Field Artillery, primary theater of engagement the Meuse-Argonne, and then after the Armistice a few months’ Occupation Duty along the Rhine.

    I have his tin-pot helmet, his pouch belt, a French hook-hilted bayonet brought back as a souvenir, and the menu his unit printed up for their Christmas Dinner 1918 “Die Wacht am Rhein”.

    Came home to serve a career in Law Enforcement in Western PA. Lost a stepson in northern France in WWII. Taught his grandson the words to “We’re Payin’ Our Debt to La-fa-yette”, among other life lessons.

    Papa Bill passed away in 1975, and we miss him still.

    God Bless all our Veterans, and make this country worthy of their sacrifices.

  • Sacandaga

    A salute not to those who keep us safe, but to those who keep our freedoms safe.

    Because as Americans, dating back to before there was a United States of America, we believe as Benjamin Franklin did:

    ?Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.?

  • civil_truth

    You point is most well-taken.

  • civil_truth

    Admidst the site’s error messages I was encountering today, somehow I though it was my comment you had responded to, and I thought that somehow I had missed this critical distinction.

    I would certainly second your comment, Sacandaga, but I cannot speak on behalf of geraldatwork.

  • KWH

    I remember my grandfather who fought in the trenches of WWI. For the rest of his life he could not sleep without his hand on a loaded M1911 .45. Think how much my grandmother loved him.

    I remember my father who jumped into Germany with the 17th Airborne in the last months of WWII. Even after 30 years service he always said he was “Good for one more time up the hill.”

    My brother and I also served so we would not be ashamed to be welcomed into their august presence.