Never forget

At the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918, the 'war to end all wars' was over.

This is the 90th anniversary of Armistice Day, now called Veterans Day. These days, WWII is becoming a dim memory, some people are even denying the Holocaust, and few people alive even remember WWI. Most people in America are totally unaware of the loss and suffering it caused worldwide, but especially in Europe. Last year, I quoted some great poetry about WWI, but this year I think I'll leave it to the images (don't worry -- no stacks of corpses) & numbers.

The United States suffered 57,476 casualties, Britain lost 703,000 and 1,663,000 were wounded.

Worldwide, both military & civilian, over 20,000,000 died and 21,000,000 were wounded.

We can't even imagine numbers like that and, God willing, won't ever have to again.

They Shall Not Grow Old. . .

I have to admit to being obsessed with World War I.

Today is Armistice Day -- the day the treaty was signed that ended World War I, the forgotten war. Over 12 million were wounded and over 5 million killed. Most of the wounded and dead were Russian, British and French. We can't even imagine what it was like to see an entire generation of young men lost, often an entire family or village of men, since they signed up and saw active duty together. If, as Tom Brokaw says, WW II saw the "greatest generation", WWI was the "lost generation".

People in Britain still where poppies this week to commemorate Flanders' fields. We don't do that any longer here, or remember the meaning of the poppies. We've become such a nation of weenies that we can't even imagine the bravery of those who fought, were wounded or killed. We lament (as we should) the loss of several thousand, while they lost millions, sometimes with entire famiies or entire villages lost!

Here are two of my favorite poems (or parts of poems):

Grass -- Carl Sandburg
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo,
Shovel them under and let me work--
I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?

I am the grass.
Let me work.

For the Fallen -- Laurence Binyon
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.

Remember the lost generation this Armistice Day.