Remember, Remember the 11th of November

In my last post, I said how I hoped for the British people to come together when the time came to stand up and have a voice. Well, I know we can do it because all across the UK people are wearing their red poppies, in support of the Royal British Legion charity, and in Remembrance of the men and women that fought and died for our country. As an Army Wife I know only too well the fear of widowhood,on a daily basis, as my husband packs his things and heads to a country deep in conflict. My life is very different to my civilian sisters, they may have to contend with their husbands or partners working long shifts, at night or away for a few days but I am separated from the love of my life more than we are together. I entered the military world not knowing how hard it would be, and I soon came to realise that the rest of society have no real concept of the sacrifices made by 1000's of families. Do people realise we are living in a time of war?

To see so many people in support of the services, at this time of year, lifts my heart. Unfortunately, the government have made no effort whatsoever to unite military families with the rest of society, we are the outsiders. The BBC as well, on many occasions reporting deaths of soldiers before the families have been informed. Why can't they use their resources to promote the services, to inform people that men and women, just like their brothers, sisters or sons and daughters, or parents are being killed and shot at, because the government will not even give them equipment that works or protects them.

The Royal British Legion is a charity. It is not run by the government. And like Help for Heroes or the Army Benevolent Fund it relies on the public. Ultimately we, we look after the troops that risk everything for us. On the 11th Hour, on the 11th day of the 11th month, be silent for all those who died, for us, for freedom and peace, and remember those that today are fighting, forgotten by their government, but not by us.

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,

England mourns for her dead across the sea.

Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,

Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal

Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,

There is music in the midst of desolation

And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,

Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;

They sit no more at familiar tables of home;

They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;

They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,

Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,

To the innermost heart of their own land they are known

As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,

Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;

As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,

To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Binyon (1914)