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THE ELEVENTH HOUR OF THE ELEVENTH DAY OF THE ELEVENTH MONTH The above date is known by various names by different nations, however it is remembered as the date that the guns fell silent on that terrible conflagration which was known as World War , the war to end all wars. When I was a youngster it was known as Armistice Day and eventually it evolved to being Remembrance Day, and our American friends know it as Veteran’s Day. Whatever it is called, we pause and remember those young men & women, the prime stock of, definitely Australia, who heeded their countries call and went away from their home shore never to return. Here in the Philippines our Sub Branch had a contingent attend a Commemorative Service at the Hellships Memorial at Subic Bay, ably conducted by the Subic RSL Sub Branch, with refreshments later at the Arizona Resort at Barrio Barretto. Another contingent joined VFW Post 2485 with a service at the Clark Cemetery and later refreshments at their clubrooms. I will finish off with a couple of poems remembering the 11th of November. ED In Flanders Fields by John McCrae, May 1915
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.
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 her 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 glory that shines upon our tears. They went with songs to the battle, they were young, Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow, They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted, They fell with their faces to the foe.s They mingle not with their laughing comrades again, They sit no more at familiar tables of home, They have no lot in our labour of the daytime, They sleep beyond England’s foam. But where our desires and 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 shall be bright when we are dust, Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain, As the stars that are stary in the time of our darkness, To the end, to the end, they remain. "Lest We Forget"
“The price of liberty is eternal vigilance”