Remembrance thread

[Pink*Lady]

^ ditto.

Mod edit: Initial post of this thread has been removed and the thread has been renamed at the OP's request.

[-Simon-]

Thanks for posting this, I'd totally forgotten.

[Medea]

Originally Posted by Darling

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.

I think that sums it all up for me too. My great grandfather and two of his brothers died due to the first world war and it was all for naught.

[Belinda]

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.


What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Wilfred Owen

[Medea]

The Hero
'Jack fell as he'd have wished,' the mother said,
And folded up the letter that she'd read.
'The Colonel writes so nicely.' Something broke
In the tired voice that quavered to a choke.
She half looked up. 'We mothers are so proud
Of our dead soldiers.' Then her face was bowed.

Quietly the Brother Officer went out.
He'd told the poor old dear some gallant lies
That she would nourish all her days, no doubt
For while he coughed and mumbled, her weak eyes
Had shone with gentle triumph, brimmed with joy,
Because he'd been so brave, her glorious boy.

He thought how 'Jack', cold-footed, useless swine,
Had panicked down the trench that night the mine
Went up at Wicked Corner; how he'd tried
To get sent home, and how, at last, he died,
Blown to small bits. And no one seemed to care
Except that lonely woman with white hair.

Sigfried Sassoon

[Medea]

I was reminded today that my grandmother's brother lost his life in world war two, on a boat back from imprisonment in the east, his boat was accidentally bombed by the allies and he was killed.

So I have 5 of my relatives, great grandfather, his two brothers, my great uncle, my great grandmother's brother, all killed in war. War is a terrible thing. We will remember them.

[Belinda]

We have a photo of my Grandad standing next to a horse- he looked after them in the first world war. My Dad was born in 1927 and Grandad died when Dad was just a baby so he is a mysterious figure. He is supposed to have died young because the horses hair exacerbated his ashma so it's somewhat ambiguous whether he died as a result of the war or not. My Uncle Herbert who I did meet as a very old man lost a leg in the war and was in pain every day for the rest of his life. RIP to them all.

[Medea]

Originally Posted by Belinda

We have a photo of my Grandad standing next to a horse- he looked after them in the first world war. My Dad was born in 1927 and Grandad died when Dad was just a baby so he is a mysterious figure. He is supposed to have died young because the horses hair exacerbated his ashma so it's somewhat ambiguous whether he died as a result of the war or not. My Uncle Herbert who I did meet as a very old man lost a leg in the war and was in pain every day for the rest of his life. RIP to them all.

Unfortunately I think many men returned from war, especially the first world war, scarred mentally and physically.

My great grandfather served just before world war one, in China and my mum says it was with him the rest of his life and he spoke about it often.

I'm so glad now that the numbers of men and women who go into the army are very small in comparison to the past.

It is so sad that so many men and women had to suffer for the whims of generals and officers, Kings and Emperors. May they now rest in the peace they were deprived of in life.

[clawhammer]

Originally Posted by Rufus

Its strange to think this old tin box went to France in WW1 and thankfully came back along with my grandad. Its nearly 100 years old now. I've no idea what he did. He died when I was young and nobody ever spoke about it. I have kept important documents in it for years.It helps me remember. We even used to have his bayonet once.

That's really nice. To anyone else it's just an old tin box, but to you it's sort of priceless, a link to your past.

You might be able to find out more about your grandad by searching ancestry.co.uk. It's free to use at your library.

I've been doing some family history recently and found my grandfather's discharge papers online (15 pages worth) which included medical records and medal records. I've also found out more about the division he was attached to in Salonika and first-hand accounts of the conditions they lived in and battles they fought. More soldiers died of malaria during the Salonika campaign than from fighting. My grandfather contracted malaria and suffered ill-health for the rest of his life. He died more than 20 years before I was born, he was aged just 42.

A couple of the scans from my grandfather's discharge papers: