In 1918, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day in the eleventh month, the world rejoiced and celebrated. After four years of bitter war, an armistice was signed. The “war to end all wars” was over.
We can hope some day all wars will be over. In the mean time, give thanks to the veterans.
Preach it, brother. Thanks to the many who gave their lives in hopes that they might ensure our protection. Thanks to those who risk their lives today to do the same. Sympathy to the families who lost these brave souls to noble causes and to those who live each day hoping for the safe return of their loved ones.
Every year on the nearest Thursday (club night) to 11/11, our Morris team sings the following song. It tears me up.
Well how do you do Private William McBride,
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside?
And rest for awhile beneath the warm summer sun,
I’ve been walking all day and now I’m nearly done
I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916;
Well I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean,
Or, young Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?
Did they beat the drum slowly,
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did they sound the Death March
As they lowered you down?
Did the band play
“The Last Post And Chorus?”
Did the pipes play
“The Flowers Of The Forest?”
Did you leave e’er a wife or a sweetheart behind?
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined?
And although you died back in 1916,
In that faithful heart are you forever nineteen?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Enclosed forever behind a glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn, and battered and stained,
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame?
Ah the sun now it shines on these green fields of France,
The warm summer breeze makes the red poppies dance,
And look how the sun shines from under the clouds;
There’s no gas, no barbed wire, there’re no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard is still No Man’s Land,
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man’s blind indifference to his fellow man,
To a whole generation that was butchered and damned.
Ah, young Willie McBride, I can’t help wonder why,
Did all those who lay here really know why they died?
And did they believe when they answered the call,
Did they really believe that this war would end war?
For the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain,
The killing and dying were all done in vain,
For, young Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again and again and again and again.
Eric Bogle (songwriter)
I will come to a time in my backwards trip when November eleventh, accidentally
my birthday, was a sacred day called Armistice Day. When I was a boy, all the
people of all the nations which had fought in the First World War were silent
during the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of Armistice Day, which was the
eleventh day of the eleventh month. It was during that minute in nineteen
hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped
butchering one and another. I have talked to old men who were on battlefields
during that minute. They have told me in one way or another that the sudden
silence was the voice of God. So we still have among us some men who can
remember when God spoke clearly to mankind.
Kurt Vonnegut “Breakfast of Champions”
Thank you veterans, both living and dead, and those who will be veterans but aren’t yet, and those who never got to be veterans because they died in service of their countries.
At the risk of alientating just about everyone on this forum I would venture to suggest that what Armistice day does is to ‘glorify’ war. I could see the point if people stopped killing each other for their ‘countries’. But they don’t. Governments continue to declare war and ask people to die and kill, often for reasons that they do not understand. There’s got to be a better way to ‘remember’ the dead than to keep on dying. Buying poppies doesn’t come near it.
cathy
Consider me alienated. I think Armistice Day honors the ones who willingly, unwillingly, needlessly, or otherwise lost their lives in battle. It is appropriately recognized on the surrender date of WWI, a time when fighting among soldiers and countries at least ended temporarily. There is a better way to remember the dead than to keep on dying, as you say. Armistice Day is one such way. It is a call to peace rather than a call to arms.
OK, I’m no longer alienated.
To out Veterans:
Thanks to all who have served and are serving today!
Today is a day to remember and honor our Veterans. I remember reading the post on the loss of Unibiker. A veteran who gave his life for his country. From what I remember he was a victim of PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder http://www.ncptsd.org) as are many of our Veterans who return home from WAR suffer from.
Let’s not forget about them when they are faced with issues like depression, substance abuse, mental illness, homelessness, and many other psychological problems.
Let’s not forget about the 15,000 who have been wounded in Iraq and Afghanistan. And the 2000+ solders and their families who lost their lives and loved ones.
For me it is also a day to reflect on why we are in a War with Iraq? Our troops and our country deserve to know the answer to so many questions we are now facing. (Winnebago’s of Death, Tube Tales, Yellow Cake and Phantom WMD’s?)
It is a great day to support our troops, not by putting a sticker on your vehicle, but actually helping them. I am sending money to Maxim’s Million Minute March. It’s long distance talk time for active duty personnel as well as hospitalized Vets. 800.479.5228 to donate. more info go to
Anyone else want to share how we can help our troops?
I don’t think you should be alienated by what Cathwood wrote. I am sure she had no intention to offend, but knew she was articulating a thought that might go against the grain for many readers.
In the UK, we can buy car window stickers that say “Wear your poppy with pride”. Although I have never got round to doing it, I have often considered buying one and carefully cutting away the “with pride” - not out of disrespect for the dead, but because I don’t like the half-spoken assumption that there is glory in war.
Monuments in this country often say “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori”: loosely, “It is sweet and proper to die for your country.” Also, “For those who gave their lives” or “Those who lost their lives”. Lose your life? How careless! I hate that expression. They died, or were killed, usually horribly, and most of them had no idea why.
Armistice Day dates from WW1, and that was not a clear cut goodies/baddies war with heroes dying for democracy as they fought the forces of evil. It was just another stupid European war between political dynasties, and the men who died (bravely or otherwise) were caught up in that - victims of time and place. The difference between WW1 and any randomly selected medieval war was one of scale, not of principle.
There were examples of heroism on both sides, but these were men fighting for the next man in the line, hoping he would fight for them. Soldiers fight for their mates. Few people in the trenches thought they were up to their waists in mud and sewage, starving to defend democracy - whatever they had thought when they volunteered.
WW2 was rather different. I think most of us would agree that this was, simply speaking, a war of democracy and freedom against tyranical oppression. That doesn’t mean that the Germans, Italians or Japanese who fought and died were all evil - many, probably most, were good people, but victims of their time and place. Nevertheless, I accept there is justification for “pride” at the heroism of the Allied forces who made huge sacrifices to defend our freedom. Certainly we owe them gratitude and respect.
War is sometimes “necessary” - at least for the side that is subject to an unprovoked attack or threat. It is never good, and never glorious. The belief in the glory of military heroism is part of what makes war possible. If all people were truly civilised, there would be no wars. Politicians could not stir up a desire for war without the background mythology of military glory.
I am from one of the luckiest generations ever in history. I have reached 42 years old without ever having to join the army or fight in a war.
My great uncle Leslie died on a bombing raid over Germany. Recently, the one surviving crew member (the others were burned to death in the plane) contacted our family, and I was privileged to see letters and photographs of a man whom my grandmother (his sister) mourned for 30 years until she died.
War isn’t glorious. Soldiers are sometimes heroic.
Put the politicians in the front line and then see how carefully they read intelligence dossiers.
I read this many years ago.
It becomes more serious as it goes on.
The title is instructive.
Volume 2 is “Carrying on after the first hundred thousand.”
It is the WW1 equivalent of Spike Milligan’s WW2 memoirs. Although Spike Milligan was a great comedian, and a hero of mine, his war memoirs make grim reading, in betweemn the jokes and banter - perhaps more so than an entirely serious memoir.
Yep. That’s it exactly, Mikefule. Thank you.
I’ve obviously alienated someone though.
Cathy
I think if you reread Greg’s last sentence you’ll see that he’s not that alienated. He jsut has a slightly different perspective on it.
None of us thinks war is good. I hope.
No, I didn’t mean Greg’s post. I did read that. I meant the negative rep I got. Apparantly I’m a stupid liberal. (Sob)
Cathy
Slight correction: my grandmother mourned her brother for about 40 years, not 30. I’m a poor arithmetician after a tough week at work.
And here’s another song from the same songwriter. It relates to a real historical battle. Read it.
When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murrays green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It’s time to stop rambling 'cause there’s work to be done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we sailed away from the quay
And amidst all the tears and the shouts and the cheers
We sailed off to Gallipoli
How well I remember that terrible day
How the blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He chased us with bullets, he rained us with shells
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
As we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again
Now those that were left, well we tried to survive
In a mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
But around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over tit
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done, I wished I was dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
For no more I’ll go waltzing Matilda
All around the green bush far and near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me
So they collected the cripples, 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 pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then turned all their faces away
And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march
Reliving old dreams of past glory
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore
The forgotten heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, “What are they marching for?”
And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men answer to the call
But year after year their numbers get fewer
Some day 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 you pass the Billabong
Who’ll come-a-waltzing Matilda with me?
Thanks for posting those lyrics Mike. The first time I heard that song performed–by Hardin Davis of Salt Lake City–it brought tears to my eyes. And still does, every time.
This was always a day I’d call my favorite veteran–my Dad–to thank him for risking his life in Europe on D-Day and after, to help end the madness that was World War II. Wish he was still here to answer the phone.
That’s disappointing in what should be a friendly forum. Most people who post here are from western democracies where free speech is treasured. Indeed, that’s part of what we believe WW2 was fought for. However, for many people, free speech is two things: their right to say what they think, and their right to say they are offended by what you think!
There should be no place for direct personal insults or attacks in a forum like this.
I’m a liberal (small L) and I interpret the term as meaning a person who is prepared to respect the rights of other people to hold different opinions, and who regards this diversity as a good thing. It goes with this that a liberal is prepared to consider ideas on their merits rather than on the basis of dogma, tradition, class background etc. Received wisdom is not always right - and it’s not always wrong.
There are too many people in this world who are full of ideas about what other people should do or should think.
My father enlisted in the Army during WWII interrupting his college education. He wanted, in his own slightly tongue and cheek words, to kill Japs and Krauts. After being shipped to the Philippines he quickly found out that Japs were just people, too.
He spoke of his Army days only in terms of the education in humanity they gave him. He never asked for nor wanted thanks for his service. When he was alive I had many reasons to thank and love my dad, but his service in the military was only a small one among them.
Men and women do heroic things every day. Civil rights marchers, abolitionists, suffragists, labor organizers, and yes, conscientious objectors and peaceniks, have risked much, sacrificed much, and faced prison, violence and death to win freedoms. I frankly, don’t feel they are any less deserving of honor than those who go to war. Yet in my opinion the honoring of war veterans has become a religion to some and only the great leaders among those others are ever honored.
I can relate to this. My Dad also served in WWII. He made a habit of never speaking of it. Until I was old enough to figure out that he didn’t want to talk about it, I would pester him with questions about the war. He would only speak of the mundane things–the food, the planes, the entertainment that was sometimes brought in. The rest of it–the war itself–apparently haunted him in some way that made him unwilling to speak of it.