As is my tradition on Stormbirds, I like to stop and take a moment to reflect and remember the brave people who went off to war in our service. In Canada and in many countries around the world, November 11 marks a sombre day where we mark the end of World War I and reflect on the sacrifice of service members.
With many of my articles covering aircraft belonging to the World War I and II eras as well as more modern combat aviation, I think it only appropriate to stop and reflect on a day like today.
This year I do that by sharing yet another popular poem although, depending on where you’re from, maybe something different.
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:
John McCrae
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.
The author of the poem, John McCrae, was born in Guelph, Ontario, Canada and he wrote the poem during the 1915 Ypres salient battle where he tended to wounded soldiers for 17 days. John would not survive the war, falling prey as many did to pneumonia in 1918. His poem, however, lead to the adoption of the red Poppy flower as a symbol of remembrance in several Commonwealth countries.
So, no matter where you’re reading this from, I hope to spread that message of remembering, reflection and peace.
I remember.
It’s good to remember.
Thank you.
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And thank you!
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This is an outstanding example of why I choose to follow your page.
Great material, solid writing, and constant respect for others.
Keep it up.
A veteran.
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Thanks Stephen! I appreciate the kind words. Thank you as well for your service.
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Hauntingly beautiful poem, up there with Yeats’ ‘Irish Airman’.
Thoughts as always with the fallen and those still serving. One small positive is the amazing job undertaken by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. The cemeteries are beautiful sanctuaries of peace and serenity, where the violence of the wars have been calmed and any lingering anger stripped away.
I challenge anyone to attend the Last Post at Ypres and not have to still a gentle tear.
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Thanks, Shamrock.
“Flanders Fields” is a poem I try my hardest to remember every November.
BTW, today is also the 80th anniversary of the last time that 645 men were ever in Australia and the last time that families would ever see their sons, husbands, fathers, brothers, best friends.
More info about this here: https://forum.il2sturmovik.com/topic/75231-the-life-and-death-of-hmas-sydney-ii-part-2/
Lest We Forget
Novice
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To lighten the tone and remember how these heroes coped in their horrid circumstance with a degree of sang-froid, I suggest another poem the author of which I believe remains disputed. Note, a ‘Quirk’ was slang for the infamous British BE2C recce / boarder-line deathtrap and frankly unless you know Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky the joke might be lost:
Twas brillig and the slithy Quirk
Did drone and burble in the blue,
All floppy were his wing controls
(And his observer too).
‘Beware the wicked Albatros,’
The ‘OC quirks’ had told him flat;
‘Beware the Hun-Hun bird and shun
The frumious Halberstadt.’
But while through uffish bumps he ploughed,
The Albatros, with tail on high,
Came diving out the tulgey cloud
And let his bullets fly.
One two; one two, and through and through,
The Lewis gun went tick-a-tack,
The Hun was floored, the Quirk had scored,
And came galumphing back.
‘And hast thou slain the Albatros?
Split one, with me, my beamish boy,
Our RAF-ish scout has found them out,’
The CO wept for joy.
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Well said
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A very touching poem.
Thanks for sharing it, Shamrock.
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They shall grow not old, as we that 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.
Lest we forget
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Well done.
I remember.
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