At the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in the year nineteen hundred and eighteen the guns fell silent on the Western Front. For many, even though hostilities were to continue on other battle fields, the war was over. As a school child this day was commemorated by the marking of the eleventh hour with two minutes of silence. It was a solemn occasion and we were encouraged to remember all those that had died during what was known as The Great War, later to become known as the First World War.
Nowadays, I find that people I talk to don't even know what Armistice Day is all about - if they've even heard the term.
How sad that so many who gave their lives for our freedom and our country are unremembered by those who benefit from their sacrifice. Will we always be so unaware of what has been fought and won on our behalf?
In Flanders' fields the poppies blowBetween 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.
("In Flanders' Fields" by John McCrae.)
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