This year marks the centenary of the end of WW1 and this weekend will be Remembrance Sunday, when at the 11 hour, on the 11th day in November (the 11th month) the nation will hold a two minute's silence and pay their respect to all those who fell on the battlefields. As is fitting there have been some amazing art installations to commemorate this special year.
Here are some of the human's favourites (apologies that we could not find the credits for these great photographers).
For the past few weeks, I have been wearing my Poppy bandana with pride. The human got me the bandana, plus a dickie-bow and a felt poppy for my collar, as all proceeds go to the British Legion which supports those who served in the Armed Forces and their families.
Here is a great article where you can read more about the dog war heroes.
Of course, I am not equating in the slightest the contribution of a small number of dogs to the huge sacrifice made by humans who gave their lives so bravely. Those humans left their loved ones behind to fight for justice and freedom, for the war to end all wars.
Its hard to imagine the courage needed to go into battle, to fight ones way inch by inch under enemy fire and over the bodies of comrades who have gone before.
Unfortunately, as Plato the Greek Philosopher said, "Only the dead will have seen the end of war." which is probably why the human cannot listen to The Green Fields of France, written by the talented Eric Bogle without shedding a tear for the loss of life, young life, boys many of them really, and all those who perished. Its only right that we remember and honour them, they who gave their all, so that we could be free.
Here are the lyrics and I'd encourage you to listen to it sung here by the wonderful Finbar Furey.
Well how do you do young Willie McBride?
do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside
and rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun
I've been walkin' all day and I'm nearly done
I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
when you joined the great fallen of 1916
Well I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Willie McBride was it slow and obscene
CHORUS
Did they beat the drum slowly did they play the fife lowly,
did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
did the band play the last post and chorus,
did the pipes play the "Flowers of the Forest"
And the beautiful wife or the sweetheart for life
in some faithful heart are you forever enshrined
and although you died back in 1916
in that faithful heart are you forever nineteen?
or are you a stranger without even a name
enshrined forever behind a glass pane
in an ould photograph torn tattered and stained,
fading to yellow in a brown leather frame? CHORUS
Now the sun shines down on the green fields of France
a warm summer wind makes the red poppies dance
The trenches have vanished under the ploughs,
there's no gas no barbed wire, there's no guns firing now
but here in this graveyard it's still No Man's land,
the countless white crosses stand mute in the sand
for man's blind indifference to his fellow man,
to a whole generation that was butchered and damned CHORUS
Now Willie McBride I can't help wonder why
Do those who lie here do they know why they died
Did they really believe when they answered the call
did they really believe that this war would end wars
Forever this song of suffering and shame
the killing the dying was all done in vain
for young Willie McBride it's all happened again,
and again, and again, and again and again.
The human has another favourite song, Sleep Now, by Caroline Lavelle which she finds really quite moving, especially at this time. The cello makes it even more emotive. Here are the lyrics/poem by Brian Patten, which was written when he was just 15, and can be found in his book of Selected Poetry. You can listen to Caroline Lavelle sing it here on YouTube.
SLEEP NOW
Words: Brian Patten, Music: Caroline Lavelle
sleep now, your blood moving in the quiet wind
no longer afraid for the others
hurrying through the tall grass
or the faces laughing on the beach, sleep now
you do not hear the dry wind pray
or the children play a game called soldiers
sleep now, alone in the sleeves of grief
listening to clothes falling
and your flesh touching god
to the chatter and backslapping of Christ meeting the heroes of war
sleep now, you do not hear the dry wind pray
or the children play a game called soldiers
sleep now, your words have passed the lights shining from the east
and the sound of flak raping graves and emptying the seasons
sleep now, sleep now
you do not hear the dry wind pray
or the children play a game called soldiers.
no longer afraid for the others
hurrying through the tall grass
or the faces laughing on the beach, sleep now
you do not hear the dry wind pray
or the children play a game called soldiers
sleep now, alone in the sleeves of grief
listening to clothes falling
and your flesh touching god
to the chatter and backslapping of Christ meeting the heroes of war
sleep now, you do not hear the dry wind pray
or the children play a game called soldiers
sleep now, your words have passed the lights shining from the east
and the sound of flak raping graves and emptying the seasons
sleep now, sleep now
you do not hear the dry wind pray
or the children play a game called soldiers.
