Not just in Flanders ...

[5129frederick]

In Flanders fields the poppies grow,

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 time 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 falling 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 Fields.

I make no apologies for those who may have read my personal comments on the subject from previous years.  It is a personal testimonial for all those who gave their lives during those dark days and for all serving military personnel who put their lives, and are still putting their lives on the line for our freedom.

By God's Grace our household lost nobody during the Second World War, bar an uncle who died before I was born.  Born after the war, in 1948, I didn't even see National Service, it having been abolished before I left school.  Ninety-nine percent of those who are putting their lives on the line entered the services by their own choice, and are at risk every day during active service.  

So on Sunday, whether we are in church, in the shops, or watching television, let us stand for just two minutes in quiet gratitude, for so many who gave their all, and are still giving, that we may see out our lives in peace.  Armed conflict is all around us - lest we forget.

Thank you, whoever you are for having given your bit for this great nation.  Fred, a humble pentioner.

[ed_blackadder_1]

Well said Fred.

[rainydaywoman11]

I second that.

I have read about the well know war poets (Sassoon/Owen), but until right now I had never heard of John McCrae.  And he died, in the January of 1918.  Beautiful poem, don't know what else to say.

Thank you Fred.

[5129frederick]

Thank you.  As I said, by God's Grace we all came through the war unscathed, although I was aware of plenty of periods of unrest - I was in Cyprus between '48 - '58 where my father worked for for B.E.A. and served part of my schooling out there in Nicosia.  I remember quite vividly my late mother walking down the road doing her shopping with one yound lad not a day older than seventeen, ever so casually ambling down on the opposite side of the road, keeping a wary eye on thingss.  Of tanks on every corner, and how I was trained to, if the doorbell rang, press myself hard against the wall nearest the door and remain absolutely silent.  If it was a friend, they'd call out you name.  These were in the days where the EOKA terrorists (pronounced IOKA) would leave boobytrapped toys on the side of the road which, if picked up, would blow off the hands of any child who lifted them.  Things were pretty tense out there.  And yet in ten years out in Cyprus, they lost fewer people than in one year in Northern Ireland because they knew who they could trust - nobody!  And that is how you lived.  As I said, I have the greatest respect for all of those who serve in any of the armed forces although as I said, I have no direct dealings with them myself.

[rainydaywoman11]

I am afraid I have to profess ignorance of how you had to live in those times. That must have been quite frightening for a child.

My father, however, would be able to converse with you on the subject.  Well read and, coincidentally, reading right now about Greece/Cyprus/Turkey.  I'll be sent the books to read when he has finished with the subject, and then I have to send them back!

With Remembrance Sunday close, what a mess we have made of our planet.  Will we ever learn?  The world I mean, not just us.

[5129frederick]

No more frightening than a kid growing up on the streets of Belfast when the IRA were at their most active.  Awe inspiring were the Hawker Hunters screaming overhead on their low level, high speed manouevers.  As a child I fell off my bicycle and gave my head a hell of a crack on the tarmac.  My mother flagged down an army jeep which stopped about two hundred yards past and then reversed back a couple of minutes later, very slowly, fingers on their triggers, safety catches off.   They couldn't take a chance!  It could so easily have been a set-up.  After getting the go-ahead they drove us to the hospital but prior to that, you could have cut the tension with a knife.  None of them looked at me for a second - their eyes were everywhere.  When I was about eight, coming out of school I got caught up in a riot - 30' from me the army lobbed a couple of canisters to disperse the crowd.  I soon found out why it was called tear gas!  

Yet despite the troubles there were many happy times down at Kyrenia and Famagusta.  The Cyprus I grew up in was one of mules competing with lorries, and of peasants selling water mellons on the side of the road with wide open fields.  It is for that reason I will never return, because the reality would shatter my dreams - if I went back there now, Kyrenia would be overrun by hotels and holiday complexes.  Long live my memories, because at my age, that's all I need.