11th Hour Of The 11th Day Of The 11th Month

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,

England mourns for her dead across the sea.

Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of 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 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.

(Laurence Robert Binyon, 1869-1943)

Remember The Heroes

A Story: Poppies And Day of Remembrance

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Many years ago a friend of mine served in the Second Gulf War. He was a gunner in a tank in the Iraqi desert.  He told me this story and said that he will have nightmares about it as long as he lives.

A smoke-screen had been laid and he and his colleagues were ordered to advance to a point of contact.


They did so, but before contact with the enemy was made, they were halted and told to hold their position.


All tanks bar one stopped.


The tank that didn't stop realised their mistake and reversed in order to take up position with the other vehicles.


One of the other tanks glimpsed the approaching tank through the smoke and, anticipating an enemy assault, fired an AT (anti tank) round, hitting and disabling the target.


Men were killed but all of the crews were jubilant as they thought they had made their first 'kill' of the war.


When the smoke lifted they were shocked and stunned to see one of their own Challenger tanks, a smoking wreck, before them.

That kind of incident is known very inappropriately as 'friendly fire'.

I was reminded of the above story as today, as many of you will know, is Remembrance Sunday¹ and, as an ex-soldier, I have had friends and colleagues that did not return from service in N.I. and the Falklands  so I have been wearing my poppy with pride in memory of them and others that gave their lives in conflicts around the world.

I didn't mean to bore anyone but today, as far as I am concerned, is a very important day.










¹  is held on the second Sunday in November, the Sunday nearest to 11 November (Armistice Day), which is the anniversary of the end of the hostilities of the First World War at 11 a.m. in 1918, to commemorate the contribution of British and Commonwealth military and civilian servicemen and women in the two World Wars and later conflicts