Rememberance

And the trees are way up there, back up the stairs. Sigh.

Today is Remembrance Day. I have a photo showing three of my great uncles in their uniforms going off to World War 1. They were tall country boys fresh from the tall forested mountains of Victoria heading off to the fields of Egypt and France. We can now search the World War 1 archives on the web, I found details of their postings, their wounds and their mother's anxious enquiries about their welfare. One did not return.

Words to walk with:

Glory of Women by Siegfried Sasoon

You love us when we're heroes, home on leave,
Or wounded in a mentionable place.
You worship decorations; you believe
That chivalry redeems the war's disgrace.
You make us shells. You listen with delight,
By tales of dirt and danger fondly thrilled.
You crown our distant ardours while we fight,
And mourn our laurelled memories when we're killed.
You can't believe that British troops 'retire'
When hell's last horror breaks them, and they run,
Trampling the terrible corpses - blind with blood.
O German mother dreaming by the fire,
While you are knitting socks to send your son
His face is trodden deeper in the mud.