Peter Capaldi reads a Captain's WW1 Letter from the Christmas truce, 1914

As a change from the usual poem, I fell down a YouTube rabbit hole not so long and found this.

In Flanders Fields...

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.

Remembrance

 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.

Apologies for the delay: I was out at a friend's memorial service this morning. Rest in peace, Mal. 

11/11

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.

For the Fallen

Poem by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943), published in The Times newspaper on 21 September 1914.

11/11

They went with songs to the battle, 

They were young.

Straight of limb, true of eyes, 

Steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end 

Against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

Echoing afresh a thought from a few years ago - for all we are a hobby that seeks to recreate war, I remain profoundly glad and impressed that in general we do so to understand it, not pointlessly glorify it.

St John the Evangelist Church in Slimbridge, 2018

11/11

For the Fallen: I know the next verse is the popular one, but I still find this one more moving:

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.

Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

In these present times, I'd also add one of my favourite verses from one of Mark Knoplfer's finest, the evocative "Brothers In Arms":

There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones..

Somme 100th Anniversary

My good friend Tim-the-builder, playing the trumpet for Lincoln's Somme memorial.

https://www.facebook.com/bbclincolnshire/videos/10153872125069403/

Lest we forget...

[A trifle late in the day, as I've been Dad's Taxi for a son with mock GSCE's and a wife who forgot something to take to her evening work today.]

Taken on a visit to the Tower last Remembrance Sunday

As a mark of respect, I normally post something today: every year the whole concept seems to gain more controversy, but I will make no apology for marking the day, and the sacrifice of those who died doing what they saw as their duty.

Our Vicar is a Canadian army veteran - he'll be a decade or so older than me, a solid, gruff man who one wouldn't think was prone to be emotional. John McRae's "In Flanders Fields", as Father George read it aloud during our act of Remembrance on Sunday, is one of the very few times I've ever heard him struggle for words.

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.

The Watch

Profoundly moved (especially in the wake of yesterday's events in Canada) by the Royal British Legion's sunrise to sunset vigil at the Cenotaph today.

See Twitter hashtag #TheWatch for a timeline of the people standing watch, one at each corner, inspired by the images of the repatriation of the Unknown Warrior in 1920 where Guards of the Watch kept a vigil by the coffin as a mark of respect. Watchers include members of the public, past and present members of the Armed Forces and people who've received help from the Legion.

Remembrance - some somewhat disjointed thoughts

They went with songs to the battle, 

They were young.

Straight of limb, true of eyes, 

Steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end 

Against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

I'll be honest: I actually prefer the above verse of Binyon's "For The Fallen" to the one most often quoted: it seems to me to speak more of the courage of those we remember.

I often wonder, as a wargamer, how our hobby is viewed by those outside, quite aside from the whole 'playing with toy soldiers' view, that is. Particularly as a historical gamer. Do we disrespect the sacrifices made, and the general horror of war, by turning it into a game? 

And yet?

Pretty much every historical gamer on the list of blogs I follow regularly marked yesterday with a respectful, considered post. Since I picked up the hobby again, it has made me read more, learn more, about the experiences and deeds of men in combat from all theatres and eras of war, than I did in the decades previous. And I'm pretty sure that's true for most of the others, too.

11/11

"When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say,
For Their Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today"

Inscription on the Kohima Memorial
--- John Maxwell Edmonds 1875-1958