Remembrance Day - 2008 (Merged)
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Safeware - Thank you
Both videos are poignant, respectful and excellently produced - in particular for me, the 2Uo
Should be made compulsory viewing for re-shuffled Defence Secretary's and Ministers as part of their 'new boy' training package
I suspect Bliar and Broon have been warned off PPrune because the truth hurts!
Also read that Bliar got a mobile phone yesterday - possible progress at last?
"Hello where are you? - I'm at No 10 - Is that before No 11? - Yes, as far as I'm concerned, No 11 is a long way down the road! Byeeee!
ER-1, Cromwell, Ludd and Enoch Powell must be turning in their graves
Both videos are poignant, respectful and excellently produced - in particular for me, the 2Uo
Should be made compulsory viewing for re-shuffled Defence Secretary's and Ministers as part of their 'new boy' training package
I suspect Bliar and Broon have been warned off PPrune because the truth hurts!
Also read that Bliar got a mobile phone yesterday - possible progress at last?
"Hello where are you? - I'm at No 10 - Is that before No 11? - Yes, as far as I'm concerned, No 11 is a long way down the road! Byeeee!
ER-1, Cromwell, Ludd and Enoch Powell must be turning in their graves
Last edited by buoy15; 29th Oct 2006 at 20:38.
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Every year, for as long, as I can remember I have attended a Remembrance Day Parade and worn my poppy with pride. First as a Wolf Cub (yes I am that old) then a Scout. At School and ever since then in Naval Uniform. All those years ago in deepest Worcestershire I listened to the Roll of Honour. Names that became so familiar over the years I could almost recite them. That List never changed, possibly over the years it still has not. But in many parishes across the country it will have grown. People I have served with and drank with are on those lists.
This year I urge you all, start wearing your poppy now. You do not have to be a tv presenter to do that. Show your solidarity with the fallen and wounded. Go to your Remembrance Parade. I shall be in Liverpool, one of the largest gatherings outside the capital, but still room for more. Show the Nation and the Government that you care, you Remember and that you will not Forget!
This year I urge you all, start wearing your poppy now. You do not have to be a tv presenter to do that. Show your solidarity with the fallen and wounded. Go to your Remembrance Parade. I shall be in Liverpool, one of the largest gatherings outside the capital, but still room for more. Show the Nation and the Government that you care, you Remember and that you will not Forget!
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As the occasional piece of poetry sneaks in, I'm putting in this one; it was written in 1929 by Richard Aldington who did his share on the Western Front. It shows that some things don't change over much:
Eleven years after the fall of Troy,
We, the old men - some of us nearly forty -
Met and talked on the sunny rampart
Over our wine, while the lizards scuttled
In dusty grass, and the crickets chirred.
Some bared their wounds;
Some spoke of the thirst, dry in the throat,
And the heart-beat, in the din of battle;
Some spoke of intolerable sufferings,
The brightness gone from their eyes
And the grey already thick in their hair.
And I sat a little apart
From the garrulous talk and old memories,
And I heard a boy of twenty
Say petulantly to a girl, seizing her arm:
'Oh, come away; why do you stand there
Listening open-mouthed to the talk of old men?
Haven't you heard enough of Troy and Achilles?
Wy should they bore us for ever
With an old quarrel and the names of dead men
We never knew, and dull forgotten battles?'
And he drew her away,
And she looked back and laughed
As he spoke more contempt of us,
Being now out of hearing.
And I thought of the graves by desolate Troy
And the beauty of many young men now dust,
And the long agony, and how useless it all was.
And the talk still clashed about me
Like the meeting of blade and blade.
And as they two moved further away
He put an arm about her, and kissed her;
And afterwards I heard their gay distant laughter.
And I looked at the hollow cheeks
And the weary eyes and the grey-streaked heads
Of the old men - nearly forty - about me;
And I too walked away
In an agony of helpless grief and pity.
Eleven years after the fall of Troy,
We, the old men - some of us nearly forty -
Met and talked on the sunny rampart
Over our wine, while the lizards scuttled
In dusty grass, and the crickets chirred.
Some bared their wounds;
Some spoke of the thirst, dry in the throat,
And the heart-beat, in the din of battle;
Some spoke of intolerable sufferings,
The brightness gone from their eyes
And the grey already thick in their hair.
And I sat a little apart
From the garrulous talk and old memories,
And I heard a boy of twenty
Say petulantly to a girl, seizing her arm:
'Oh, come away; why do you stand there
Listening open-mouthed to the talk of old men?
Haven't you heard enough of Troy and Achilles?
Wy should they bore us for ever
With an old quarrel and the names of dead men
We never knew, and dull forgotten battles?'
And he drew her away,
And she looked back and laughed
As he spoke more contempt of us,
Being now out of hearing.
And I thought of the graves by desolate Troy
And the beauty of many young men now dust,
And the long agony, and how useless it all was.
And the talk still clashed about me
Like the meeting of blade and blade.
And as they two moved further away
He put an arm about her, and kissed her;
And afterwards I heard their gay distant laughter.
And I looked at the hollow cheeks
And the weary eyes and the grey-streaked heads
Of the old men - nearly forty - about me;
And I too walked away
In an agony of helpless grief and pity.
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As a relative newcomer to the site I’ve only just found this thread. I don’t think I can add much more to what has already been said. As the RBL Poppy appeal slogan says ‘Remember the dead, but don’t forget the living’. So as well as remembering those who have made the ultimate sacrifice this November 11th, I’ll be praying for the safe return of our troops wherever in the world they’re serving.
As for the verses and songs on the thread I’ll just add Waltzing Matilda. It’s caused a fair amount of controversy in the past for one reason or another – mainly Eric Bogle the writer. But this, along with the Green Fields of France captures how I feel each year around this time.
When I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover.
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
It's time to stop ramblin', there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they marched me away to the war.
And the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As the ship pulled away from the quay,
And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.
And how well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water;
And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he'd primed himself well;
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
When we stopped to bury our slain,
Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
Then we started all over again.
And those that were left, well, we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead --
Never knew there was worse things than dying.
For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda,"
All around the green bush far and free --
To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,
No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me.
So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.
But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
Then they turned all their faces away.
And so now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glory,
And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask m'self the same question.
But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.
Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?
We will remember them.
As for the verses and songs on the thread I’ll just add Waltzing Matilda. It’s caused a fair amount of controversy in the past for one reason or another – mainly Eric Bogle the writer. But this, along with the Green Fields of France captures how I feel each year around this time.
When I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover.
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
It's time to stop ramblin', there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they marched me away to the war.
And the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As the ship pulled away from the quay,
And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.
And how well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water;
And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he'd primed himself well;
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
When we stopped to bury our slain,
Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
Then we started all over again.
And those that were left, well, we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead --
Never knew there was worse things than dying.
For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda,"
All around the green bush far and free --
To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,
No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me.
So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.
But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
Then they turned all their faces away.
And so now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glory,
And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask m'self the same question.
But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.
Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda.
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?
We will remember them.
TAC Int Bloke
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I was doing my analyst thing today in Old Lakenham, a quiet backwater on the outskirts of Norwich, checking out the local overgrown graveyard for signs of drug taking, when I came across the CWG headstone for 41902 Sgt EW Harvey RNZAF, Air Bomber killed 16 Dec 1942, son of John Lambert Harvey and Sarah Harvey, Husband of Josephine Harvey of Milford. He was 27.
The information I do have came off the internet he was on 75 Squadron around the time they were converting to Stirlings. His aircraft, R9245, AA-E crashed on takeoff from RAF Newmarket killing all the crew, 2 Brits, 1 Canadian and 4 Kiwis. I have no idea why he is buried in Lakenham all alone; he has no obvious link to the area. The Curate is going to ask around
I just thought it was necessary to share this
The information I do have came off the internet he was on 75 Squadron around the time they were converting to Stirlings. His aircraft, R9245, AA-E crashed on takeoff from RAF Newmarket killing all the crew, 2 Brits, 1 Canadian and 4 Kiwis. I have no idea why he is buried in Lakenham all alone; he has no obvious link to the area. The Curate is going to ask around
I just thought it was necessary to share this
A really irritating PPRuNer
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Maple 01,
Doesn't say why Sgt harvey rests where he does, but does provide a little more information: http://lostbombers.co.uk/bomber.php?id=9624
Lest we forget
Brian
Doesn't say why Sgt harvey rests where he does, but does provide a little more information: http://lostbombers.co.uk/bomber.php?id=9624
Lest we forget
Brian
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Just found this in today's Daily Mail. The lottery fund are at it again deciding that remembering our fallen post WW2 doesn't qualify for funding.
The DM have picked up on it and the following link explains all.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/memorialappeal
A fitting and worthwhile cause.
The DM have picked up on it and the following link explains all.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/memorialappeal
A fitting and worthwhile cause.
Why Winchester?
TG
re that moving memorial in Winchester Cathedral - it celebrates airmen from Sussex, so why is it not in Chichester Cathedral?
you tube vids are very moving - they should be on public transport systems such as the Heathrow Express, to get them to a wider audience.
Skua
re that moving memorial in Winchester Cathedral - it celebrates airmen from Sussex, so why is it not in Chichester Cathedral?
you tube vids are very moving - they should be on public transport systems such as the Heathrow Express, to get them to a wider audience.
Skua
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The Memorial was unveiled in Chichester Cathedral on 15th September 2006 in front of a congregation of ex RAF and WAAF guys and girls who had served at stations in Sussex. It was followed by a flyby of a pair of Typhoons and a little later, a Hunter. Jerry Mudford was a prime organiser.
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British Military Tribute Video - RIP
Apologies for making this my first post, but I've migrated from arrse for a few minutes to drop a link to a remembrance video I thought might be fitting at this time of year.
The YouTube link is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtl5kmWrFLg
Any comments, suggestions and criticism is very much appreciated.
RFUK.
- Almost forgot, a high res version is available for anyone who wants it (around 60 meg). The link is:http://putstuff.putfile.com/1680/5102577
The YouTube link is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtl5kmWrFLg
Any comments, suggestions and criticism is very much appreciated.
RFUK.
- Almost forgot, a high res version is available for anyone who wants it (around 60 meg). The link is:http://putstuff.putfile.com/1680/5102577
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This piece says it all about the sacrifices made by so many of our troops for your and my freedom. My father was part of the Forgotten Army for 4 years and fought at the Battle of Kohima Ridge, where he was badly wounded, but he survived and was awarded the MC for his bravery there. But he lost many good comrades at that battle, which marked the turning point in the War in the East. This piece just cannot be bettered:
The Kohima Epitaph
When you go home
Tell them of us and say
For your tomorrow
We gave our today.
The Kohima Epitaph
When you go home
Tell them of us and say
For your tomorrow
We gave our today.
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A beautiful tribute- well done. I'll be at a funeral for one of those in the video next Wenesday. I think that this fits the feelings and memories I have perfectly.
Lest we forget.
SMT
Lest we forget.
SMT
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RFUK
Although a senior RAF bod I also have a handle on 'the other side' and am delighted you have shared your work with Pprune. Cannot fail to be moved and yes, there are faces we know on your film but they will not be forgotten. Thank you.
4f
Although a senior RAF bod I also have a handle on 'the other side' and am delighted you have shared your work with Pprune. Cannot fail to be moved and yes, there are faces we know on your film but they will not be forgotten. Thank you.
4f