In Canada, November 5-11 is Veterans' Week. I know that other countries observe Remembrance day on the 11th in some form, including the United States, the United Kingdom, New Zealand, and Australia.
For those who don't understand what the big deal is, we set this time aside to remember the sacrifices made by our military personnel and their families since the first world war so that we might have a chance of avoiding the mistakes of the past.
For those who don't like to read, perhaps a music video?
Or another one?
Heather Robertson, A Terrible Beauty, The Art of Canada at War. Toronto, Lorimer, 1977.
We must remember. If we do not, the sacrifice of those one hundred thousand Canadian lives will be meaningless. They died for us, for their homes and families and friends, for a collection of traditions they cherished and a future they believed in; they died for Canada. The meaning of their sacrifice rests with our collective national consciousness; our future is their monument.
Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)
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 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 their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables at 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.
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 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 their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables at 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.
On the left is one of the medals worn by my little brother. It was awarded to him for his participation in the peacekeeping efforts in Bosnia. On the right is the medal he was awarded from NATO for the same service.
He now suffers from PTSD and our family feels the effects of his service overseas nearly every day.
Death was not the only sacrifice made by our troops. Not all wounds are visible. He has since left the Armed Forces.
There are countless stories across the country of men and women who were forever changed when entering countries overseas torn apart by civil war, when faced with real poverty and suffering for the first time.
Many soldiers are children, really. My brother came home from the Balkans just before his 20th birthday.
Here is a blog post he made a couple of years ago on Remembrance Day after some very disrespectful people disrupted a memorial ceremony during the 2 minutes of silence:
Kals' Little Brother, November 11, 2006
This Day...
...We Remember.
did i die to protect you?
did i die so that you could spit in my son's face?
did i die so that you could get the latest toy?
did i die so that you could ignore me and carry on with your life?
did i die so that you could freely speak your language with your fellow coutryman?
did i die so that you could disrespect the flag under whose protection and dominion you placed yourself?
did i die so that you could glare in hatred at my comrades, who have taken the torch and held it high?
did i die so that you could sit in your warm house and be angry because your neighbour is being too loud?
did i die so that you could drive your oversized car and complain about how much it costs to keep running?
did i die so that you could piss on my memories, on my comrades' memorial, on my country?
i died so that you could be free.
i died so that you could enjoy this luxury.
i died so that you could live.
i died so that you could walk down the street without getting shot at.
i died so that you could walk across a grassy field and not get your legs blown off.
i died so that you could watch your children go out your door and know they were coming home.
i died so that you could believe what you wish, when you wish.
i died so that you could speak freely about whatever you will.
i died so that you could read this message.
does this mean that i died to let you hate me?
does this mean that i died to let you hate my brothers?
does this mean that i died to let you love my enemy?
yes. it does.
don't forget who died.
...We Remember.
did i die to protect you?
did i die so that you could spit in my son's face?
did i die so that you could get the latest toy?
did i die so that you could ignore me and carry on with your life?
did i die so that you could freely speak your language with your fellow coutryman?
did i die so that you could disrespect the flag under whose protection and dominion you placed yourself?
did i die so that you could glare in hatred at my comrades, who have taken the torch and held it high?
did i die so that you could sit in your warm house and be angry because your neighbour is being too loud?
did i die so that you could drive your oversized car and complain about how much it costs to keep running?
did i die so that you could piss on my memories, on my comrades' memorial, on my country?
i died so that you could be free.
i died so that you could enjoy this luxury.
i died so that you could live.
i died so that you could walk down the street without getting shot at.
i died so that you could walk across a grassy field and not get your legs blown off.
i died so that you could watch your children go out your door and know they were coming home.
i died so that you could believe what you wish, when you wish.
i died so that you could speak freely about whatever you will.
i died so that you could read this message.
does this mean that i died to let you hate me?
does this mean that i died to let you hate my brothers?
does this mean that i died to let you love my enemy?
yes. it does.
don't forget who died.
We wear decorative poppies pinned over our hearts during this week in honour of our veterans and in remembrance of those who have sacrificed so much to help shape the world into a place where we can be free to speak our minds and live as we please.
On the eleventh day of the eleventh month, we pause for a minute or two in the eleventh hour to honour and remember those who have fallen.
So, ATG, now that I have spilled my passion all over the place, discuss:
-Does your country observe Remembrance Day? Does it mean anything to you?
-Do you have any veterans or military personnel in your family? Did one of your ancestors die in one of the World Wars?
-Are you serving in the military yourself? Does the significance of being a "future vet" hit home for you on Remembrance Day?
-Do you think that remembering the Great Wars, their causes, and their impact on the world will help keep us from repeating history?
