If and when covid is consigned to history and people can move forward in a more regular fashion, I'd strongly recommend anyone visiting London to spend at least half a day in the imperial War Museum south of the river. Its extremely sobering including showing the likes of advancement of weaponry and their effects, the long term impact on those who survived through to a short mocked up section of trench that brings home in the slightest manner what those soldiers had to contend with without truly getting close to how it could have been. I've always felt its important for as many people as possible to understand the horror of violence and war, to give us the biggest possible hope of preventing it happening again. With the amount of division and hate increasing in the last 4-5 years, its a message that should always make us feel uncomfortable.
Ex pupil of mine was killed by a road side bomb in Iraq. He was in and out of trouble in school but was one of those you couldn't be mad because he was like a naughty puppy. He could have gone and got himself into lots of troible but he found a good career. By all accounts he was an excellent soldier - such a waste of life at 19. Will be remembering you Adam and all those that have sacrificed their lives.
It was just before dawn One miserable morning in black 'forty four When the forward commander Was told to sit tight When he asked that his men be withdrawn And the Generals gave thanks As the other ranks held back The enemy tanks for a while And the Anzio bridgehead Was held for the price Of a few hundred ordinary lives And kind old King George Sent mother a note When he heard that father was gone It was, I recall In the form of a scroll With gold leaf adorned And I found it one day In a drawer of old photographs, hidden away And my eyes still grow damp to remember His Majesty signed With his own rubber stamp It was dark all around There was frost in the ground When the tigers broke free And no one survived From the Royal Fusiliers Company Z They were all left behind Most of them dead The rest of them dying And that's how the High Command Took my daddy from me
Written by Roger Waters who’s own father was a tank commander who faced the German tiger tanks and was unfortunately killed. Something which Roger still has problems coming to terms with. Another great Pink Floyd anti war album is the Final Cut. Some very powerful and emotive lyrics and well worth a listen if you have not already done so. R.I.P. to the brave fallen.
The Green Fields of France is the song that gets the emotions going. Anger, frustration, sadness at the futility of it all. Saw the Fureys and Davy Arthur perform it and half the audience including me were in tears at the finish of it. R.I.P. everyone who made the ultimate sacrifice
Well, they cancelled the Sunday ones Helen. I suppose the logic would be they would attract more people but it's outside and I'm sure people would have worn masks if asked.
The poem read so beautifully by Cery Matthews in the Abbey got to me. I was chopping onions at the time, obviously.
Agreed, it is impossible for us to even begin to comprehend the mindset of the young men in the trenches. Imagine living in those conditions awaiting the decision to go over the top knowing it was almost tantamount to suicide with the odds massively stacked against you. Yet they did it. Brave doesn’t even come close
When you see pictures like that, with the officer first over the parapet, it brings to mind the scene at the end of Blackadder where George says something like “Oh yes, I wouldn’t want to face a machine gun without my stick”. Senseless, criminal waste of lives (on both sides).
It certainly puts into context what actual sacrifice is. A mask, washing your hands and staying 2 metres apart from others seems a sacrifice too far for too many at this moment.
I read the Barnsley Pals book and it literally knocked me sick. I honestly don't know how they coped.
I normally post this every year about the Pals from Lyn Macdonalds book SOMME. I know a lot about the Bradford Pals and I would like to read up on the Barnsley Pals at some point. The Accrington Pals suffered unbelievably, and although wrong side of the Pennines my heart breaks for the town every time I read up on what they went through. "By ten in the morning, it had all been over. Two out of three men who had gone over the top had become casualties and lay dead or wounded on the gentle slope of ground between their trenches and the German line. The “Pals” who had joined up in all the euphoria of the early weeks of the war; the lads from Leeds, from Bradford, from York, from Lancaster, from Sheffield, from Hull had been slaughtered in the first short hour of the great battle. The last echoes of the cheers and the shouting, the last faint remembered notes of the brass bands that had sent them off from the towns and villages of the North, had died out in a whisper that morning in front of Serre." © Lyn Macdonald
The Barnsley Pals were the second wave behind the Accrington Pals and although not as devastating losses as the Accrington Pals were almost decimated .