In Flanders Field II

I will always know when memorial day is coming up because I get a lot of hits on the post I wrote about the poem In Flanders Field. I think I wrote that piece about 3 years ago and it still gets read.

I think it's good to remember (lest we forget) the fallen from all wars. In a week where so many people have lost their lives because of a natural disaster it seems so futile that man treats man so abominably. As I write this I know that women can't walk home alone in Sri Lanka without the risk of getting raped by the authorities; that men in the same country are continually being tortured and murdered unless they pay bribes to the police. Can you imagine that? I don't think we need to pat our own police on the back because they don't do it.

There was a man in Sri Lanka who was being tortured and it continued awaiting a bribe from his family. They inserted a tube up his anus so they could insert barbed wire which gave him internal injuries. So he was sent to hospital where surgery repaired some of the damage so they could send him back for more torture – till his family paid a bribe; doesn't bear thinking about does it? He will never recover.

I remember the journelist Clive James saying that he was part of the first generation that would not expect to go to war. In fact up to The Faulklands War the only place the British soldier went to was the so called Northern Ireland.

There is a lot of money to be made from war; the depression of the thirties was eventually ended by the second world war.

Anyway here is my piece from two years ago and as I write this the time is 11:11 am on 11/11 – peace!

This is for today; November 11th; it would be great if it was published at eleven minutes passed eleven but that comes at different times in different countries; it was the time and date of the armistice in 1918; the end of the first world war which started in 1914; so I will get this as close to 11:00 am as I can.

The poem, which titles this post, was written by a Canadian John McCrae – so it's not only the English who wrote great World War One poetry; some of the great poems of the first world war were pro-war for example Rupert Brooke as opposed to the anti-war poems by others including Wilfred Owen.

There are two photos above as you can see – one clearly has the first line as 'In Flanders Field the poppies grow' which was hand written by the author and in the other one, taken from the publication In Flanders Field and Other Poems clearly says as poppies blow. I believe the hand written one was written from memory and is a mistake; but I always thought it was grow.

At this time of year in Britain most people wear red poppies in their lapels; this is to remember Armistice Day lest anybody forget and the people buy the poppies from poppy sellers in the streets; they're also usually available at your school and place of work and the money collected goes to a charity.

I leave you with a great poem and ask – is it pro or anti-war? Throwing the torch?? Discuss????

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.