Remembrance Day/Veterans Day

[Cowperson]

"These trees are living memorials of men who died for your freedom." - sign along Memorial Drive in Calgary.

Hug a veteran today.

The Memory Project at the Globe & Mail is a good place to muse:

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/series/the_...aign/index.html

I'll be remembering my grandfather, an immigrant gentleman farmer who went back to England for WWI, enlisted as a private and lived to be a Captain, emerging from the conflict in spite of being wounded by gunfire and gas, with the Distinguished Service Order (DSO) and the Military Cross (MC).

Below is Riqueval Bridge on the St. Quentin Canal, near Bellinglise, France, likely the morning my grandfather led a charge across, cutting the leads to charges and bayonetting the defenders (as described in his medal recommendation) on Sept. 29, 1918. Saving the bridge allowed the advance to continue. You can still see the wires hanging from the bridge if you look close enough. One time when I was a boy, I asked him about the war and he began to cry. . . . . small wonder.



This bridge is still standing today by the way.

Also, if you see someone stealing from a poppy box as described in this story, kick the crap out of them.

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/sto...Story/National/

Remember a veteran today.

Cowperson

[BlackArcher101]

Great photo. Lot's of real hero's there.

[Frank the Tank]

Awesome photo Cow. Today is a tough day for a lot of people....

[Mean Mr. Mustard]

The only thing I think that I can really say is thanks for everything that they have done for all of us here.

[Displaced Flames fan]

I'll be remembering both grandfathers of mine. One has passed, one who hasn't. The one that is gone served in North Africa and the Middle East in WWII. I never talked with him about it, he died when I was 12. Last Christmas my Mom gave me a little wooden box with a bunch of stuff of his from that time. Letters he wrote home, pictures, Iraqi money. Probably the most special gift I've ever received.

My Dad's Dad served in the Marines in Okinawa. He was shot by a sniper through the shoulder and out the rib cage. The man who shot him stole his watch afterward! He wasn't the only one who thought my Grandpa was dead, the medics who were clearing out the wounded left him for over a day because they didn't think they had a chance of saving him. Eventually they picked him up and he made it, obviously. I have seen his Purple Heart and even as a bratty 10 year old I was aware of the power of that medal as I looked at it.

My Dad was a green beret during the latter stages of Vietnam. He was never deployed. I was concieved at Fort Bragg in 1970 as a matter of fact. My Dad moved up in the army very fast and when he got out in 1976 (because of divorce) he was about to go to Master Sargent school. I've read through his evaluations by his CO's and am in awe of someone with his kind of performance ratings at their job. He graduated 1st in his jump class as well. That discipline and committment to excellence have carried over into his civillian career where he gets the same kind of recognition.

3 great men in my family who deserve every ounce of respect I can show them today.

[MrMastodonFarm]

Not much I can say besides thanks. Thanks to those who put their life on the line, thanks to those that gave up everything they had to go and fight, thanks to those who sacrificed everything so I can walk down the street and be safe and be free.

Thanks.

[OldSam]

A lot of my uncles served in WWII and the Korean War. One of my uncles saw his best friend blown out of the gun turret of the plane they were flying.

I have the utmost respect for veterans. None of us can possibly imagine what they went through to make sure we can all do what we do today.

If any of you get a chance to visit some of the war memorials in France and Europe, go. The memory will never leave you and the sheer numbers of names on the memorials is very humbling.

One of my "creepy" stories is the day we were touring Canadian cemetaries and my companion got off a bus at one of them, walked to the back of the cemetary turned right, and stopped at the third grave in. I was curious so I went there as well. They were just standing, staring at the cross, and whispered to me, "Something drew me to this grave. Something brought me here." There was a long pause. "I went to school with him". Absolutely true.

[Jagger]

This is also a special time for me.

My grandfather served in WW1 and was shot and captured by the Germans. He was transported to a German hospital and one day actually met with Kaiser Willhelm (or Kaiser Bill as he was known in Britain). The Kaiser asked him how old he was to which my grandpa replied, "17 Sir!" To this the Kaiser simply shook him head and said, "So young...."

My grandpa survived the war and lived for many more years. RIP Grandpa.....

Lest we forget.

[FlamesAllTheWay]

Originally posted by Cowperson@Nov 11 2004, 09:13 AM
Also, if you see someone stealing from a poppy box as described in this story, kick the crap out of them.

AGREED. That really, really makes me angry. Bunch of lowlifes.

Anyways, I too will say thanks. Real easy to take everything for granted nowadays, but we can't ever forget why things are the way they are. We have no idea what these people went through so we could continue living the way we do today...

[snowdude]

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.

EDIT: "In Flanders Fields" by Dr. John McCrae

[habernac]

Today I remember my grandfather. Mom's Dad was a Flight Lieutenant in the RCAF in WW2. He was stationed all over the British Isles, the place he remembered best was near St Andrews where he'd walk the fairways of the world's most famous golf course at night. He piloted a Wellington bomber, his job was to take out U boats. He would tell my brother and I stories about the friendships, the horrors and the hardships. He's been gone 2 years and I think about him almost daily.

My wife's grandparents were both involved in the war effort. Her grandfather, who she never met, was a veteran of both great wars. He enlisted as a 16 or 17 year old and served in 1918 in WW1. He also served in WW2 as an army engineer, well into his forties. He died at the young age of 55. While he served in WW2, he met a lass who was a Sergeant in the British army. My father in law was born in Wimbledon, England and emigrated to Vegreville at a very young age. Granny B died just a few months ago and was buried in a military service next to her husband in Vegreville. She had been a widow, never remarrying, for 49+ years.

[octothorp]

The poem I always find myself thinking on Remembrance Day is High Flight, by John Gillespie Magee Jr. Magee trained as a pilot with the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1941 and was transferred to a Spitfire operational training unit in Llandow, South Wales later that year. He wrote the poem in September, 1941 and sent it home to his parents. Magee died in a mid-air collision over Lincolnshire while on active service on 11th December 1941.




Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds -- and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of -- wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

John Gillespie Magee Jr.
(1922-1941)

[Cowperson]

Originally posted by snowdude@Nov 11 2004, 07:31 PM
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.

A short, eyewitness account of John McCrae as he composed "In Flanders Fields."

A young soldier watched him write it. Cyril Allinson, a twenty-two year old sergeant-major, was delivering mail that day when he spotted McCrae. The major looked up as Allinson approached, then went on writing while the sergeant-major stood there quietly. "His face was very tired but calm as we wrote," Allinson recalled. "He looked around from time to time, his eyes straying to Helmer's grave."

When McCrae finished five minutes later, he took his mail from Allinson and, without saying a word, handed his pad to the young NCO. Allinson was moved by what he read:

"The poem was exactly an exact description of the scene in front of us both. He used the word blow in that line because the poppies actually were being blown that morning by a gentle east wind. It never occurred to me at that time that it would ever be published. It seemed to me just an exact description of the scene."

http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/flanders.htm

Cowperson

[Ozy_Flame]

I remember my grandfather who recently passed away today. He served in the Polish army when the Germans invaded Poland, and eventually found himself fighting in the wars on the Eastern Front, as well as in Italy and Palestine. He was later sent to a concentration camp, which he subsequently escaped. He re-enlisted with the Allies and was on his way over to Japan when the war ended. He headed back to Canada afterwards and lead a very fulfilling life.

I'll never forget his favorite tale of the battle, although it was a funny one. He was commandering a tank down a dirt road in the forest, and didn't see a convoy of German tanks at the cross-section between roads. He thought it was a fellow Polish division since the tanks weren't clearly marked. He non-chalantly approached them through the trees, only to hit a rock-hard pile of cow dung. His tank ollied off the pile, and careened into a German tank. My grandpa didn't know what he had hit, so he got out to look, and when he opened the top him and his fellow soldiers saw the white flags waving and the convoy of Germans immediately surrendering. Needless to say he certainly didn't expect to capture Germans that day, let alone even meet them face to face!

Ah, memories.

[Language]

While no words can really express what these brave men did for us and the world, I'll try anyway.

For those with family members who are, were, or died fighting for this country, Thank You.

Hearing just one story from any Veteran is enough to make one cry. I couldn't even begin to imagine, being 18 years old myself, being sent out to fight. Unless you were actually in war, I think it would be pretty difficult to understand how it would feel to lose best friends and brothers and men beside you at such a staggering rate. Hearing about the 1000+ soldiers that have died in Iraq, you feel extremely sorry, but even that pales in comparison to the millions that died, truly a frightening number.

I've made it my goal in life to at least once go to France and walk Juno Beach, see Vimy Ridge, or go to a cemetary to pay respect to all those that died for us so we could be hear today.

As the years go by, the voices of the Veterans are growing quieter and quieter, so let's take a moment of silence to remember all those brave brave men.

Remember

[Displaced Flames fan]

BTW...Cow, that's an amazing picture. Is that something you have personally or did you get it off the net?

It's amazing how looking at an image like that can overwhelm you as you think about all that it encompasses.

[Cowperson]

Originally posted by Displaced Flames fan@Nov 11 2004, 09:35 PM
BTW...Cow, that's an amazing picture. Is that something you have personally or did you get it off the net?

It's amazing how looking at an image like that can overwhelm you as you think about all that it encompasses.

The story of the picture:

We've always had his letters to friends (describing taking the King around the battlefield of Belinglise), letters of commendation from officers recommending him for medals and a description of the action behind it, regimental histories, etc and always knew that Riqueval Bridge had been the one he assaulted on Sept. 29, 1918. Relatives through the years have visited the bridge as it stands today.

That's kind of where it stood for about 80 years.

A few years ago I was in a used book store in Red Deer and saw "The Battles Of The Somme" by Martin Marix Evans. Flipping through it I was startled to see not only my grandfather's name coming up in a description of the action that morning, but also the photo above as well as a contemporary picture of the bridge as it stands today with captions describing his assault.

I bought the book (and found another later) and using a new fangled thing called the internet, I then searched and found a copy of the picture above which I distributed to the delighted maniac historians in the family (not myself believe it or not).

More recently, while surfing the net, I was surpised to find a British war artist who plans a canvas of my grandfather leading the charge over this bridge.

http://www.militaryartist.co.uk/about/gjgiddins.html

I'm not on a mad hunt for my grandfather's history. But without the book and its captions first of all, I probably wouldn't have made the connection.

The photo is one you see come up quite often in WWI histories. The war ended about a month or six weeks later.

My grandfather returned to central Alberta to his quiet farm.

Cowperson

[Daradon]

Lest we forget...

Thank you.

And thanks to all for your stories.