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Lest we forget, Sunday

Lest we forget, Sunday

Old Nov 8th 2007, 11:47 am
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Default Lest we forget, Sunday

Lest We Forget.

At 11am on the 11th November 1918, guns fell silent on the Western Front in France and Belgium ending four years of continuous war in Europe and the Middle East.

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the moment the fighting ceased has become universally associated with the remembrance of those who died in the war, the "war to end all wars".

I have been researching the men from Sheffield who gave their lives in World War One.

The result of this research, which still continues, can be found on

http://www.stannington.webitsmart.co.uk/

Please take time on Sunday, to remember the brave men, who gave the ultimate sacrifice.

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 shall remember them.

Regards

Robert.
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Old Nov 9th 2007, 9:27 am
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

Bump.It is important that this day be recognised.
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Old Nov 10th 2007, 9:56 am
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

Bump!
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Old Nov 10th 2007, 11:32 am
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

couldnt agree more,grandads hat will be firmly planted on head at 11 on sunday .god bless em
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Old Nov 10th 2007, 2:34 pm
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

Originally Posted by franky View Post
couldnt agree more,grandads hat will be firmly planted on head at 11 on sunday .god bless em
havnt seen anywhere to get a poppy out here
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Old Nov 10th 2007, 6:56 pm
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

I like the poem below it doesnt romanticise war

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen
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Old Nov 10th 2007, 7:46 pm
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

Originally Posted by asher View Post
I like the poem below it doesnt romanticise war

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen died on the battlefield a week before the armistice was signed. As time moves on I think that the Great Wars are fading from the collective memory, WWII was fought by todays youths great great grandfathers, but if we forget the mistakes of the past we are bound to repeat them in the future.

Least we Forget.

Last edited by ex_exile; Nov 10th 2007 at 7:53 pm.
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Old Nov 11th 2007, 5:51 am
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

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.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

By Laurence Binyon 1914


Please remember. This day is not just for those who died in the World Wars but for every Service Man and Woman who have died as a result of military action since.
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Old Nov 11th 2007, 1:55 pm
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

My dad has recently been researching our family tree. We have learn't that my Great Grandfather was in France at the Beginning of WW1 and died in battle in the first few weeks, after being transferred there from India. He was a Sergeant Major.

I always take time to remember on this special day, memories go back to schooldays singing in the school choir at the village memorials.
This year has special meaning knowing my Great Grandfather gave his life for my beloved England.
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Old Nov 11th 2007, 2:23 pm
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

Today 11am Charente France....
Attached Thumbnails Lest we forget, Sunday-imgp0117.jpg  
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Old Nov 11th 2007, 2:52 pm
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

Originally Posted by derbyflan View Post
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

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.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

By Laurence Binyon 1914


Please remember. This day is not just for those who died in the World Wars but for every Service Man and Woman who have died as a result of military action since.

Can you please tell me what this poem is called?
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Old Nov 11th 2007, 4:50 pm
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

http://news.aol.com/story/_a/study-a...11121309990001
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Old Nov 11th 2007, 5:02 pm
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

Originally Posted by SueG View Post
Can you please tell me what this poem is called?
For the fallen by Laurence Binyon
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Old Nov 11th 2007, 6:15 pm
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Default Re: Lest we forget, Sunday

Originally Posted by ex_exile View Post
For the fallen by Laurence Binyon
Thank you very much
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