[Misc] At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them

[Bry Nylon]

 

[Chicken Run]

Lest We Forget, all of those who have sacrificed their lives for this country.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk Pro

 

[Psychobilly freakout]

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 In Flanders fields
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 In Flanders fields
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields In Flanders fields

 

[Live by the sea]

We will remember them . I am embarrassed that my country arrived very late to WW2 . I’m convinced millions of lives would have been saved had they acted with more urgency at an earlier stage . I guess we’ve been making up for it every since .

 

[Westdene Seagull]

Unashamedly taken from a Facebook post on my late father's page ( the bolding is mine ) :

"On November 7th, 1920, in strictest secrecy, four unidentified British bodies were exhumed from temporary battlefield cemeteries at Ypres, Arras, the Asine and the Somme.
None of the soldiers who did the digging were told why.
The bodies were taken by field ambulance to GHQ at St-Pol-Sur-Ter Noise. Once there, the bodies were draped with the union flag.
Sentries were posted and Brigadier-General Wyatt and a Colonel Gell selected one body at random. The other three were reburied.
A French Honour Guard was selected and stood by the coffin overnight of the chosen soldier overnight.
On the morning of the 8th November, a specially designed coffin made of oak from the grounds of Hampton Court arrived and the Unknown Warrior was placed inside.
On top was placed a crusaders sword and a shield on which was inscribed:
"A British Warrior who fell in the GREAT WAR 1914-1918 for King and Country".
On the 9th of November, the Unknown Warrior was taken by horse-drawn carriage through Guards of Honour and the sound of tolling bells and bugle calls to the quayside.
There, he was saluted by Marechal Foche and loaded onto HMS Vernon bound for Dover. The coffin stood on the deck covered in wreaths, surrounded by the French Honour Guard.
Upon arrival at Dover, the Unknown Warrior was met with a nineteen gun salute - something that was normally only reserved for Field Marshals.
A special train had been arranged and he was then conveyed to Victoria Station, London.
He remained there overnight, and, on the morning of the 11th of November, he was finally taken to Westminster Abbey.
The idea of the unknown warrior was thought of by a Padre called David Railton who had served on the front line during the Great War the union flag he had used as an altar cloth whilst at the front, was the one that had been draped over the coffin.
It was his intention that all of the relatives of the 517,773 combatants whose bodies had not been identified could believe that the Unknown Warrior could very well be their lost husband, father, brother or son...
THIS is the reason we wear poppies.
We do not glorify war.
We remember - with humility - the great and the ultimate sacrifices that were made, not just in this war, but in every war and conflict where our service personnel have fought - to ensure the liberty and freedoms that we now take for granted.
Every year, on the 11th of November, we remember the Unknown Warrior.
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them."

 

[dejavuatbtn]

Remember those of the Royal Sussex Regiment who gave their lives and marched to our song.

First Verse
Now is the time for marching,
Now let your hearts be gay,
Hark to the merry bugles
Sounding along our way.
So let your voices ring, my boys,
And take the time from me,
And I’ll sing you a song as we march along,
Of Sussex by the Sea!

Chorus
For we're the men from Sussex, Sussex by the Sea.
We plough and sow and reap and mow,
And useful men are we;
And when you go to Sussex, whoever you may be,
You may tell them all that we stand or fall
For Sussex by the Sea!

Refrain
Oh Sussex, Sussex by the Sea!
Good old Sussex by the Sea!
You may tell them all we stand or fall,
For Sussex by the Sea.

Second Verse
Up in the morning early,
Start at the break of day;
March till the evening shadows
Tell us it's time to stay.
We're always moving on, my boys,
So take the time from me,
And sing this song as we march along,
Of Sussex by the Sea.

Chorus and Refrain

Third Verse
Sometimes your feet are weary,
Sometimes the way is long,
Sometimes the day is dreary,
Sometimes the world goes wrong;
But if you let your voices ring,
Your care will fly away,
So we'll sing a song as we march along,
Of Sussex by the Sea.

Chorus and Refrain

Fourth Verse
Light is the love of a soldier,
That's what the ladies say –
Lightly he goes a wooing,
Lightly he rides away.
In love and war we always are
As fair as fair can be,
And a soldier boy is the ladies' joy
In Sussex by the Sea.

Chorus and Refrain

Fifth Verse
Far o'er the seas we wander,
Wide thro’ the world we roam;
Far from the kind hearts yonder,
Far from our dear old home;
But ne'er shall we forget, my boys,
And true we'll ever be
To the girls so kind that we left behind
In Sussex by the Sea.

 

[Cadiz Seagull]

John Maxwell Edmonds hit the nail on the head -

When you go home
Tell them of us and say
For your tomorrow
We gave our today

We will remember them

 

[Is it PotG?]

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

 

[Lever]

Remembrance Day - T’was Madness
By Peter Atkinson

Deep in the trenches and stenches they stand
Where their life’s in the balance, poised in fates hand.
The front line can make courage soon disappear
With the rage of the battle and the palpable fear.
Our troops line to die when the whistle is blown,
To a slaughter so vile in the killing zone.

What mind in command could consider it right
To march men with rifles to engage such a fight
Where opponents attack with such focused disdain
Meet machine-guns a-blazing; reap carnage insane.
T’was a war that was numb to a phalanx of death
Were the leaders perplexed; suffered intake of breath?

What contest deemed fair would plan such a match?
Where a soldier on foot would cross a mud patch
To a death that was certain as bullets would slay
Those Innocents ordered straight into harms way.
Christ, why was that ever considered to be
A fair contest? T’was madness and none disagree.

 

[Cadiz Seagull]

For the first time since I was old enough I hadn't yet bought a poppy this year. I have an enamel one that I wear dated 1914 (my Grandfather fought in the Battle of Mons) but every year I still buy a poppy to wear as well.

As I'd left it late this year I thought just donate the money I would have spent on a poppy via the British Legion website. I'm glad I did, for two reasons. First, gift aid increases the value of my donation which it wouldn't do if I just put money in a tin and second, the British Legion will record my Grandfather's name in their Book of Rememberance.

So the BL got more money because I was too lazy to buy a poppy!

https://www.britishlegion.org.uk/get-involved/ways-to-give/donate

 

[The Antikythera Mechanism]

Private DAWSON, FRED
Service Number 82431
Died 10/11/1918 in France
Aged 18 years 5 months
"D" Coy. 11th Bn.
Royal Fusiliers
Son of Joseph and Ann Dawson,
Buried TERLINCTHUN BRITISH CEMETERY, WIMILLE

My Great Uncle Fred. Died on the day before the Great War ended, 103 years ago yesterday, aged 18

 

[Coalburner]

Lawrence Binyon.s poem "For the Fallen" includes
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

What is , unfortunately, not noticed by most is the order of words four and five in the first line. They are "GROW NOT" and not " not grow". Important that it is got right

 

[Coalburner]

Sorry -words three and four

 

[maltaseagull]

Unashamedly taken from a Facebook post on my late father's page ( the bolding is mine ) :

"On November 7th, 1920, in strictest secrecy, four unidentified British bodies were exhumed from temporary battlefield cemeteries at Ypres, Arras, the Asine and the Somme.
None of the soldiers who did the digging were told why.
The bodies were taken by field ambulance to GHQ at St-Pol-Sur-Ter Noise. Once there, the bodies were draped with the union flag.
Sentries were posted and Brigadier-General Wyatt and a Colonel Gell selected one body at random. The other three were reburied.
A French Honour Guard was selected and stood by the coffin overnight of the chosen soldier overnight.
On the morning of the 8th November, a specially designed coffin made of oak from the grounds of Hampton Court arrived and the Unknown Warrior was placed inside.
On top was placed a crusaders sword and a shield on which was inscribed:
"A British Warrior who fell in the GREAT WAR 1914-1918 for King and Country".
On the 9th of November, the Unknown Warrior was taken by horse-drawn carriage through Guards of Honour and the sound of tolling bells and bugle calls to the quayside.
There, he was saluted by Marechal Foche and loaded onto HMS Vernon bound for Dover. The coffin stood on the deck covered in wreaths, surrounded by the French Honour Guard.
Upon arrival at Dover, the Unknown Warrior was met with a nineteen gun salute - something that was normally only reserved for Field Marshals.
A special train had been arranged and he was then conveyed to Victoria Station, London.
He remained there overnight, and, on the morning of the 11th of November, he was finally taken to Westminster Abbey.
The idea of the unknown warrior was thought of by a Padre called David Railton who had served on the front line during the Great War the union flag he had used as an altar cloth whilst at the front, was the one that had been draped over the coffin.
It was his intention that all of the relatives of the 517,773 combatants whose bodies had not been identified could believe that the Unknown Warrior could very well be their lost husband, father, brother or son...
THIS is the reason we wear poppies.
We do not glorify war.
We remember - with humility - the great and the ultimate sacrifices that were made, not just in this war, but in every war and conflict where our service personnel have fought - to ensure the liberty and freedoms that we now take for granted.
Every year, on the 11th of November, we remember the Unknown Warrior.
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them."

That is a very moving piece. thanks for sharing.

 

[maltaseagull]

For the first time since I was old enough I hadn't yet bought a poppy this year. I have an enamel one that I wear dated 1914 (my Grandfather fought in the Battle of Mons) but every year I still buy a poppy to wear as well.

As I'd left it late this year I thought just donate the money I would have spent on a poppy via the British Legion website. I'm glad I did, for two reasons. First, gift aid increases the value of my donation which it wouldn't do if I just put money in a tin and second, the British Legion will record my Grandfather's name in their Book of Rememberance.

So the BL got more money because I was too lazy to buy a poppy!

https://www.britishlegion.org.uk/get-involved/ways-to-give/donate

I tried to buy an enamel poppy from the British Legion but they are not sending abroad to certain countries including Malta.
Which is sad as Malta still holds a very significant remembrance day ceremony every year.
I will just make a donation instead.

 

[Cadiz Seagull]

View attachment 142063

Private DAWSON, FRED
Service Number 82431
Died 10/11/1918 in France
Aged 18 years 5 months
"D" Coy. 11th Bn.
Royal Fusiliers
Son of Joseph and Ann Dawson,
Buried TERLINCTHUN BRITISH CEMETERY, WIMILLE

My Great Uncle Fred. Died on the day before the Great War ended, 103 years ago yesterday, aged 18

My grandfather was in the Royal Fusiliers. But he was in the 4th batallion (Mons onwards) so I doubt they would have met.

My Grandad survived the war and when I was 14 I went on a couple of battlefield reunion trips with him and my Grandmother

The men were treated as heroes wherever they went. Which they were.

 

[vegster]

I tried to buy an enamel poppy from the British Legion but they are not sending abroad to certain countries including Malta.
Which is sad as Malta still holds a very significant remembrance day ceremony every year.
I will just make a donation instead.

Your conscience is clear. Lots of the links that used to bind us are failing across Europe these days sadly.

 

[melias shoes]

http://www.eastsussexww1.org.uk/day-sussex-died/index.html
Bless them all.

 

[Happy Exile]

Five years ago I wrote a piece about a soldier from Sussex for a thing about the Somme. Today seems like an appropriate time to get it out. I'm not sure how long it'll come out in here, apologies if it's too long:



I decided to write this a few weeks ago after hearing some students on a train debating whether we should still be commemorating the First World War when there are no survivors left.

On 1st July there will be events around the country recognising the hundredth anniversary of the first day of the Battle of the Somme. It’s a battle that risks being lost in numbers – the nearly 20,000 British men killed and the almost 40,000 more wounded, many in the first 60 minutes, the 1.5 million shells fired by the artillery ahead of the attack, supposedly to cut the 14 miles of German wire (which it failed to do), the 141 days the battle officially lasted for.

As always every number is a personal story. That chap in the photo is a story behind a number too, but more on that later.

30th June, the day before the Battle of the Somme began, became known as the Day Sussex Died – the Sussex Regiment (Southdown Battalions) being used for a diversionary attack which resulted in 365 men killed or missing for what is generally considered neglible impact, a catastrophically optimistic action that scarecly gets a mention anywhere and which saw men from all over Sussex among the dead.

The next day, that first day of the Somme, Sussex suffered again with many more killed. Others were wounded and would die over the coming weeks and months. George Fellows of Lewes left a wife and eight children when he succumbed to wounds at home on 13th July 1916 and is buried now in that town not far from Eastport Lane where he lived. On that same day, a few minutes walk up the hill also in Lewes the Pelling family lost their son Ernest, also to wounds from the Somme having returned home to Bull Lane. Death abroad. Death at home. The war was never some remote event.

The names and the unimaginable impact go on and on for every single one of those numbers we’ll hear spoken about in the coming weeks, they aren’t just numbers though, but people. Which brings me back to the man in the photo. This is one of those mostly anonymous photos you see for sale when family albums get split up, the photos piled in boxes and sold off cheap as curiosities. I picked this one up off eBay and would like to think I can return it to someone in his family, because this one is unusual in that it has a name on it – G. Morley.

His cap badge shows he was in the Sussex Regiment. I’ve looked into it and he’s almost certainly George Morley, a chimney sweep from Hastings, married to Sarah and with five children – in the 1911 census two of the children have his wife’s maiden name (or name from a first marriage) so he was perhaps a father and a step-father.

George was killed in action near the Somme, at Beaumont Hamel. Not as part of the main battle, but after the history books say it had finished, on 16th December 1916, aged 35. There was no major British action that day, and George was one of the hundreds killed every day in the war, in the endless grinding attrition of snipers and shells fired speculatively across no man’s land, a life of family, of potential and hope disposed of so casually and wastefully it’s impossible to comprehend.

The regimental diary in the week building up to 16th December is full of the names of places that resonate with anyone who has studied the history of the First World War: Mametz, High Wood and more – as George’s battalion moved through broken, damaged landscapes to the front line. Places fought over for much of the duration and still littered with explosives even today. High Wood had only been captured a few weeks before George’s death, after multiple failed, costly attacks, only being finally overrun when 3000lbs of explosives were tunneled underneath and detonated.

This is the landscape George went into, a ruined, desolate place, with no recognisable roads, ruined buildings, rats, shattered trees and and unburied bodies everywhere, and constant danger in a cold, wet winter.

He went into the front line on the 15th December, and on the 16th some men, including George, were sent out at night to dig supporting trenches in the chalky soil “80 to 130 yards” to the rear – an exposed, dangerous job hence being done in darkness, though of course after little or no sleep. Apparently the day had been “quiet except for occasional shelling” yet the digging group were hit that night, the deaths reported in the diary as “4 O.Rks [other ranks] killed, 3 wounded.”

Again no names, just numbers. Instant anonymity for those four men which somehow seems to suggest little value was placed on them. His wife and children would have heard via a standard emotionless telegram just before Christmas.

George has no known grave – he’s one of the 70,000+ on the Thiepval Memorial who don’t. Another number that’s so big it obscures the reality of the fact each is an individual man.

Looking at the register of names on the Thiepval Memorial, the page which has George Morley on has 31 other Morley’s from all over the country (there’ll be more on the preceding and following pages). There’s another George too, whose name is below his however it has been crossed out, presumably because at some point remains were found. There’s certainly an awful story there too.

In the photo George’s cap is battered, far more than the pristine, sharp lines you normally see in such photos, we don’t of course know why but there’ll be a reason, something it represents in his character. And his face is confident, his hands are relaxed have none of the awkwardness often seen. His posture – everything about him – is comfortable and certain. And above all he’s human.

When you hear people talk about the Somme, about the numbers, about names we no longer recognise, and the horrors we have no possibility of relating to, it can be hard to take it in. So think of those men of Sussex and their families and maybe map the geography of their lives in your mind. Most of their streets are unchanged. Many of their houses still stand.

Think of George with his cigarette and battered cap and wife and children and all those like him, because it isn’t a list of anonymous names, it’s people we’re remembering.

A couple of years ago someone got in touch with me having come across this - they were doing their family history and were descended from George. The photo is now with his family again, exactly where it should be.

 

[Weststander]

RIP my great uncles Robert and Percy, who died at Ypres. Already badly wounded and ‘recovered’ from other battles, German bombardments finally took them.

Selfless souls, we owe these people so much.

Respect to all service people, past and present