Barking at shovels

Lest we forget

On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918, an armistice took effect on the Western Front of the Great War, beginning the end of the most horrifying conflict the world had ever seen. In the course of this war, ten million men were killed and more than twenty million were wounded in the mud of the trenches. This day is thus remembered, variously as Armistice Day, Veterans Day, and in Canada, Remembrance Day. This poem is traditional. It probably has more resonance for me than any other.

"In Flanders Fields"

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
A lark, still bravely singing, flies
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, saw dawn, felt 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.

                Written May 3, 1915 after battle(s) at Ypres,
                by Maj. (Dr.) John McCrae of the              
                1st Canadian Field Artillery Brigade          
                Published in "Punch", Dec 8, 1915

    November 11 . . . LEST WE FORGET

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