The Longest Day

Do not call me hero

When you see the medals that I wear

Medals maketh not the hero,

They just prove that I was there.

Do not call me hero

Now that I am old and grey

I left a lad, returned a man

They stole my youth that day

Do not call me hero

When we ran the wall of hail

The blood, the fears, the cries, the tears

We left them where they fell

Do not call me hero

Each night I stop and pray

For all the friends I knew and lost

I survived my longest day.

Do not call me hero

In the years that pass

For all the real true heroes

Have crosses, lined up on the grass.

Rob Aitchison

Remember them from generation to generation.

Let us not forget.

Ronnie
xx

Remembrance

My Boy Jack

"Have you news of my boy Jack? "

Not this tide.

"When d'you think that he'll come back?"

Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

"Has any one else had word of him?"

Not this tide.

For what is sunk will hardly swim,~

Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.

"Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?"~

None this tide,

Nor any tide,

Except he did not shame his kind---

Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.

Then hold your head up all the more,

This tide,

And every tide;

Because he was the son you bore,

And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!

Rudyard Kipling 1916

My Boy Jack" is a 1916 poem by Rudyard Kipling. Kipling wrote it for Jack Cornwell, the 16 year old youngest recipient of the Victoria Cross who stayed by his post on board the light cruiser HMS Chester at the Battle of Jutland until he died.

Kipling’s son Jack was killed on the Western Front in September 1915. He had only been in France for three weeks and because of his very poor eyesight had initially been rejected by the army. It was only because of the intervention of his influential and famous father that he was subsequently accepted in to the Irish Guards regiment.

Kipling never wrote directly about the loss of his son.

.

We will remember them.

Ronnie
xx

We Shall Keep The Faith

We Shall Keep The Faith 

by Moina Michael, November 1918 

Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields, 

Sleep sweet - to rise anew! 

We caught the torch you threw 

And holding high, we keep the Faith 

With All who died. 

We cherish, too, the poppy red 

That grows on fields where valor led; 

It seems to signal to the skies 

That blood of heroes never dies, 

But lends a lustre to the red 

Of the flower that blooms above the dead 

In Flanders Fields. 

****

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.

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.

Thank You.

Ronnie

xx

11.11.11 - Lest We Forget

I wear mine with pride.

Sent to me by a friend.

Her hair was up in a pony tail,

Her favorite dress tied with a bow.

Today was Daddy's Day at school,

And she couldn't wait to go.

But her mommy tried to tell her,

That she probably should stay home.

Why the kids might not understand,

If she went to school alone.

But she was not afraid;

She knew just what to say.

What to tell her classmates

Of why he wasn't there today.

But still her mother worried,

For her to face this day alone.

And that was why once again,

She tried to keep her daughter home.

But the little girl went to school

Eager to tell them all.

About a dad she never sees

A dad who never calls.

There were daddies along the wall,

For everyone to meet.

Children squirming impatiently,

Anxious in their seats

One by one the teacher called

A student from the class.

To introduce their daddy,

As seconds slowly passed.

At last the teacher called her name,

Every child turned to stare.

Each of them was searching,

A man who wasn't there.

'Where's her daddy?'

She heard a boy call out.

'She probably doesn't have one,'

Another child dared to shout.

And from somewhere near the back,

She heard a daddy say,

'Looks like another deadbeat dad,

Too busy to waste his day.'

The words did not offend her,

As she smiled up at her Mom.

And looked back at her teacher,

Who told her to go on,

And with hands behind her back,

Slowly she began to speak.

And out from the mouth of a child,

Came words incredibly unique.

'My Daddy couldn't be here,

Because he lives so far away.

But I know he wishes he could be,

Since this is such a special day.

And though you cannot meet him,

I wanted you to know.

All about my daddy,

And how much he loves me so.

He loved to tell me stories

He taught me to ride my bike.

He surprised me with pink roses once,

And taught me to fly a kite.

We used to share fudge sundaes,

And ice cream in a cone.

And though you cannot see him.

I'm not standing here alone.

Cause my daddy's always with me

Even though were apart

I know because he told me.

He'll forever be in my heart

With that, her little hand reached up

And lay upon her chest

Feeling her own heartbeat

Beneath her favorite dress.

And from somewhere in the crowd of dads,

Her mother stood in tears.

Proudly watching her daughter,

Who was wise beyond her years.

For she stood up for the love

Of a man not in her life.

Doing what was best for her,

Doing what was right.

And when she dropped her hand back down,

Staring straight into the crowd.

She finished with a voice so soft,

But it's message clear and loud.

'I love my daddy very much,

he's my shining star.

And if he could, he'd be here,

But heaven's just too far.

You see he is a soldier

And died just this past year

When a roadside bomb hit his convoy

And taught us all to fear

But sometimes when I close my eyes,

it's like he never went away.'

And then she closed her eyes,

And saw him there that day.

And to her mothers amazement,

She witnessed with surprise.

A room full of daddies and children,

All starting to close their eyes.

Who knows what they saw before them,

Who knows what they felt inside.

Perhaps for merely a second,

They saw him at her side.

"I know your with me Daddy"

To the silence she called out

******

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.

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,

will remember them.

Lest we forget.

******

To all our brave men and women wherever your serving

I know it isn't enough

but THANK YOU from the bottom of our hearts.

We Will Never Forget.

Ronnie

xx