We will remember them.

 

In Flanders Field

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.

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.
 

Reply To In Flanders Fields

  -- by John Mitchell

Oh! Sleep in peace where poppies grow;
The torch your falling hands let go
Was caught by us, again held high,
A beacon light in Flanders sky
That dims the stars to those below,
We'll prove our faith in you who lie
In Flanders Fields.

Oh! Rest in peace, we quickly go
To you who bravely died, and know
In other fields was heard the cry,
For freedom's cause, of you who lie,
So still asleep where poppies grow,
In Flanders Fields.

As in rumbling sound, to and fro,
The lightning flashes, sky aglow,
The mighty hosts appear, and high
Above the din of battle cry,
Scarce heard amidst the guns below
Are fearless hearts who fight the foe,
And guard the place where poppies grow.
Oh, sleep in peace, all you who lie
In Flanders Fields.

And still the poppies gently blow,
Between the crosses, row on row,
The larks, still bravely soaring high,
Are singing now their lullaby
To you who sleep where poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.

 

 

Lest We Forget.

How very very poignant. A stark reminder of the waste and futility of war. "When will they ever learn" - Lest we forget

Is there a gathering in pattaya does anyone no?

 

God bless them all

How about one for Thailand?

 

The Railway   In memories of steam, the smoke does clear A child sits on a bridge of iron, Beneath dangling legs the train has passed The rhythmic sound fading then dying Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack Goes the wheels upon the track Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack Goes my daddy with his pack.   To a far off land in a geography book Went his friend and dad to war, The postman brought the telegram Lost presumed dead, somewhere called Singapore. Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack Goes the wheels upon the track Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack Is daddy coming back ?   Good news delivered, he´s alive and well Railway Camp Two, the message reads, Somewhere far away called Siam, And he´s working for the Japanese. Clickity-Clack, Clickity Clack Goes the wheels upon the track Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack When is daddy coming back ?   More news, good news? Daddy´s brother has come to call,  Talking, sighing, crying, weeping Sounds reach me from the hall Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack Went the wheels upon the track Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack Mummy’s now wearing black.

Take a moment to listen to the words

 

https://youtu.be/RfNyfMd4JKc

 

"When you go home, tell them of us and say

For their tomorrow, we gave our today."

 ~ John Maxwell Edmonds

The famous epitaph from the war cemetery in Kohima,Northeast India and capital of Nagaland in April 1944 commemorating the Battle of Kohima and dedicated to the soldiers of the 2nd British Division in the Burma campaign,the turning point of the Japanese U Go offensive/Operation C.
(The photos are of the Westbury-on-Trym Memorial in the North of the City of Bristol and the Garrison Hill Battlefield key to the British defences at Kohima,plus a map of the Imphal and Kohima Campaign )

BY THE old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay! "
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay ?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat - jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o' mud
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay...

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay...

But that's all shove be'ind me - long ago an' fur away
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."
No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
But them spicy garlic smells,
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
On the road to Mandalay...

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted English drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and -
Law! wot do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay...

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
O the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay !

 

 ~Mandalay,Rudyard Kipling.

I never got over it.  I had to come back.  I used to try and figure out why.  I never was able to.  I stopped worrying about it. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCp6IErgOU8

The girl in the white bathing suit. 

http://www.britishlegion.org.uk/get-involved/ways-to-give/make-a-donation

 

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