We Will Remember Them
Just come accross this post from 2008, still valid today, so a re-post for this significant date.
In this day and age it is not "cool" to observe Remembrance Day. To me, that way of thinking is a load of cobblers. By remembering the sacrifice of those who have given their lives for our freedom, we are not celebrating war and death themselves. To me the act of remembrance is something that I have observed for as long as I can remember. The church I attended as a child, held the town's official service, and now as an adult, I still try to have a time of reflection at 11am on 11th November. It is not just remembering history, but the ongoing situations around the world. I am fortunate, in that I have not lost anyone directly to war, but I am still grateful for those who have defended the liberty of this country.
In my opinion, a greater sacrifice was that made by God, the giving of his only son, Jesus, for the freedom of all mankind. The shame is that not everyone has accepted this gift.
Years ago I bought the book Up the line to death, which is a collection of war poems from 1914-1918. The one that always gets me is by E.A.Mackintosh, who was killed in action in 1916. It is called In Memoriam, and is dedicated to Private David Sutherland, who was killed in action on May 16th 1916, and others who died.
In Memoriam
So you were David's father,
And he was your only son,
And the new-cut peats are rotting
And the work is left undone,
Because of an old man weeping,
Just an old man in pain,
For David, his son David,
That will not come again.
Oh, the letters he wrote you,
And I can see them still,
Not a word of the fighting
But just the sheep on the hill
And how you should get the crops in
Ere the year get stormier,
And the Bosches have got his body,
And I was his officer.
You were only David's father,
But I had fifty sons
When we went up in the evening
Under the arch of the guns,
And we came back at twilight -
O God! I heard them call
To me for help and pity
That could not help at all.
Oh, never will I forget you,
My men that trusted me,
More my sons than your fathers',
For they could only see
The little helpless babies
And the young men in their pride,
They could not see you dying,
And hold you while you died.
Happy and young and gallant,
They saw their first-born go,
But not he strong limbs broken
And the beautiful men bought low,
The piteous writhing bodies,
They screamed "Don't leave me, Sir,"
For they were only your fathers
But I was your officer.
I for one, will continue to remember them for the rest of my life.
In my opinion, a greater sacrifice was that made by God, the giving of his only son, Jesus, for the freedom of all mankind. The shame is that not everyone has accepted this gift.
Years ago I bought the book Up the line to death, which is a collection of war poems from 1914-1918. The one that always gets me is by E.A.Mackintosh, who was killed in action in 1916. It is called In Memoriam, and is dedicated to Private David Sutherland, who was killed in action on May 16th 1916, and others who died.
In Memoriam
So you were David's father,
And he was your only son,
And the new-cut peats are rotting
And the work is left undone,
Because of an old man weeping,
Just an old man in pain,
For David, his son David,
That will not come again.
Oh, the letters he wrote you,
And I can see them still,
Not a word of the fighting
But just the sheep on the hill
And how you should get the crops in
Ere the year get stormier,
And the Bosches have got his body,
And I was his officer.
You were only David's father,
But I had fifty sons
When we went up in the evening
Under the arch of the guns,
And we came back at twilight -
O God! I heard them call
To me for help and pity
That could not help at all.
Oh, never will I forget you,
My men that trusted me,
More my sons than your fathers',
For they could only see
The little helpless babies
And the young men in their pride,
They could not see you dying,
And hold you while you died.
Happy and young and gallant,
They saw their first-born go,
But not he strong limbs broken
And the beautiful men bought low,
The piteous writhing bodies,
They screamed "Don't leave me, Sir,"
For they were only your fathers
But I was your officer.
I for one, will continue to remember them for the rest of my life.
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