At the going down of the sun, and in the morning...We will remember them.

In Flanders Fields

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.

by John McCrae (1872-1918)

May they rest in peace and their sacrifices not have been in vain .

a reply to: Soloprotocol

Amen.

May their sacrifices never be in vain, no matter what threatens to undo their work.

a reply to: Soloprotocol

One of my great great uncles was saved by a German pilot who was supposed to be an enemy.

Many soldiers on both sides didn't want a war waged by a few men driven by greed or conquest. In fact many Soldiers often deliberately missed their target to spare the lives of those in the line of sight.

Millions died because a few men wanted to become Machiavelli and that angers me. But when my Grandmother told me the story of the German pilot I got a feeling of hope; a feeling that things can change.

a reply to: Soloprotocol

I recently worked on a job where we had to analyse a particularly bad bit of building. Eventually, after studying maps from different eras, we realised the work had been done around the time of The Great War. And it appeared to have been done by very angry and resentful teenagers. Boys doing the men's work.

Looking on the bright side I wouldn't be here if my grandfather hadn't been gassed and met a nurse. A nurse who'd lost all her brothers in acts of war.

Angry and resentful..? Could you explain why you came to that conclusion.?

a reply to: Soloprotocol

Because I puzzled and puzzled over how it could have been built the way it was. Then inspiration struck when I remembered working with a man who was intensely angry. At the end of the day his anger was visible in the way he laid the stones. The stones in the job I worked on were laid in a similar way. It was reasonably strong but disordered. Possibly it was a conscious decision to do an ugly job as a way of expressing their feelings. Rural society was fractured by that war. Some would say deliberately.

I looked for figures on farm workers going to war but it seems to have been a very divisive issue.