What Does Remembrance Sunday Mean to You?

Having Uncles and Aunts, and a Mother in WW2, as well as a two Grandfathers, one of which was in WW1.
They never really spoke about it, the odd story, or the little irrelevancies, nothing of the pain or the suffering that they went through and carried with them forever after.

The RE, RA, the WAAF,s, and the Coast Guard.

All dead now, like those they were with, some a lot sooner, who will forever be 21.
But you could see it in their eyes, and their faces, when they spoke about it.

From the malaria shivers they carried with them from the Middle East and Burma, to North Africa all the way through to Italy and home, and until the very end of their days. I still have the pressed brass plate of the boot of Italy and the brass shell casing Tankard of the 8th Army.

The biscuit tin, with the small box brownie photos of their mates, the truck, a german plane.

Of packing away the personnel effects of an aircrew from a bomber squadron, who a few hours before you were chatting too, boys just boys, they were of 19 & 20. She was a batswoman of 26.

The dinning room side-board cupboard, with the campaign medals in the brown cardboard boxes that they came in, from the Second and First world wars.

A silver war badge from the First.

A RAF badge from the Second, sanded smooth, with a matchbox to make them look like old timers, the dog tags, on the string.The ID card.

The Christmas greetings cards, from the front 1914/1918, embroidered Merry Christmas, and a large round war plaque.

It did not mean much to them. Tucked away in the dinning room drawer, for a small child to find.

That was your, uncles, your grand-dads, your great-uncle James’s, who your Mother was named after.

To me it means remembrance to those who were there, those that came back, those that did not.

The broken families, the widows, the men who were changed,forever.

The cost in war, is indeed very high and cannot be measure, purely by crosses upon a grave.

No, it is not fun, it is not like the movies. It costs and it lasts a long long time, and the price, is very high.

History, is written in the aftermath, and it is the victors that write history.

It is in the web pages such as these , that show just a little of what went on.

Yes, it is nice to remember, but just so long as you know what pain it means in the end.

Was it worth it? Their words not mine.

Least we forget.

 

For me Remembering the casualties (example below) who are buried in the UK and informing the CWGC of any issues with their commemoration.General Remembrance for all the fallen.

 

When I was young, Remembrance Sunday was a difficult day in our household. My Nan found the event very painful, as it reminded her of the man that she loved, but who did not return to her.

Today and for me, it is a heightened focal point for the recollection, consideration and reflection upon so many lost souls and their self-sacrifice.

 

Me too Bamboo, My father would sit down on Rememberance Sunday , at the appointed hour and say " I Remember Dave Chambers". His colleague serving in Burma , who was killed accidentally, shot by his own men . A friend who nearly made it, but through bad luck lies today deep in the Burmese jungle. His parents long dead, a wife who probably remarried, but, me, I carry his memory. Not a mention in the War Diary, a death certificate that says "Killed in Action", but a story handed down that I cannot erase, which resurfaces as a childhood echo, with every Last Post.

 

Roundabout this tine of the year there is a plethora of "Remembrance" days when the nation, and indeed the world, is reminded of the shocking loss of life during the wars that have beset us in the past..

I believe, however, I am not alone in thinking that I do not need the symbolic dates to remind myself of the death of close family and distant relatives and it is a rare day that passes when I do not think of those who have fallen before their allotted time.

I will, of course, observe all of these "Remembrance" days including for the first time this year a visit to the Remembrance Field at Westminster Abbey.

I shall not be marching on the British Legion Parade on Sunday the 13th, simply because at my present age i find it is simply too demanding physically, but I shall hopefully march with AJEX on the 20th when the distances are much less.

As others others on this thread have already stated..........

Lest we forget !

Ron

 

The thoughts of my father and grandfathers are at the back of my mind everyday, rememberance day and the build up brings them to the fore.
I think of 23 Sappers who died building a bridge in Italy after the war was over and the lads from Ripon who gave all on the way to victory and school and sporting friends who died in Ireland and the Gulf.

Gone but remembered with each note of the last post

 

My husband is still serving and while we often think of his friends who have died and of our relatives who fought in WW1 and WW2, Remembrance Day makes it all seem more poignant somehow. I'm not sure that's the right word. But when I go and watch him parade with his Squadron each year, while I am stood there thinking of my husbands friends who were killed, I am always moved to think that those around me are all sparing them a thought too, even if they have never heard of them. It's nice to know they won't be forgotten.

And being able to see my husband parade also leads to a certain amount of thinking 'There but for the grace of God'.

 

South

With regards to "There but for the grace of G-d" go I ........,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

I remember writing this some time ago.

Geoff

I feel must tell you and others, of my experience this morning on testing out your admirable CWGC Search Engine.

My Army number was 14300260.

I decided to enter only the first six digits, i.e. 143002 in the "number" field and see if any one who joined the Army near my time had been killed in WW2.

The search produced, amongst others a Trooper Fletcher, Reginald Water who died on the 12th of March 1945, is buried in The Reichswald Forest Cemetery and who's Army Number was 14300257.

Trooper Fletcher's number is just 3 digits lower than mine and he must have joined on the same day, 1st October 1942.

Truly a case of "There but for the Grace of G-d go I"


Ron

 

In Canada, Remembrance Day is on the actual day...Not the Sunday as is the case in the UK. This Friday,November 11th, I will pay my respects at the war memorial at Queen's Park which holds the legislature of the province of Ontario. I anticipate one of the two remaining Lancasters will do the fly past. Nothing like the sound of a Merlin engine to raise ones eyes.
Thoughts of my late father and all the other relatives that served. And, of course, a salute to the late Tom Canning.

 

When growing up, I can’t actually remember my mother and father ever wearing a poppy and I am pretty sure that my father didn’t attend a Remembrance Day service (just the normal 930 mass)…and they would rarely (if ever) share any of their war time experiences with the family. That being said, I do remember my father regularly going up to the Duke of York’s during January to commemorate the battles that took place near Bou Arada in early 1943… I think it was the only commemorative occasion that he would attend (and that was discontinued in the mid-1970s).

My most vivid memory was that during school assembly each 11th November, Messrs Wharmby and Dickinson would read out the names of ex school members who had died during the First and Second World Wars… as they would declare, ”And these were their names….”

The first distinct memory of my father sharing any of his war time experiences was in October 1997 when I visited the Cassino CWGC cemetery with my parents and my father then pointing out the final resting places of a number of his mates including Sgt Edward Mayo MM and Sgt Edward O’Reilly MM….and also Colonel Ion Goff, who he had helped to bury with Father Dan Kelleher on the afternoon of 15th May 1944.

I shall travel up to a small Remembrance Service in South London next Sunday morning and spend a few moments thinking about my parents and their chums – about those who came back and those who didn’t. The playing of a lament by an Irish piper is more than enough for me.

best wishes

 

For me it is remembering those family members who did not come home, and those who did but were changed because of war.

Lest we forget.

 

It reminds me of those long years, when I was a young child, but mature enough to absorb the drama and anxiety in our extended family. And mostly worried about my Dad, who was serving in the RNVR. One aunt in the Red Cross, and another in the Land Army.
But as I've said before, that was nothing, compared to the experiences of those who were on the front line (so many front lines.) So much gratitude still owed to them. And trying to follow up on 'Never Again.'

 

Although not of a military background and my father never spoke of his time during the war we always remembered those who lost their lives and we should never forget why. We now live in Warminster where Remembrance Sunday is commemorated with a the regiment marching through the town which has been decorated with hand knitted poppies.

 

I am not an ex service / member of RBL but Remembrance Sunday has long been a part of life.
My father was one of four brother's who " went to war / joined up" , two of them did not come home one died on ops with Bomber Command , shot down into the North Sea (1943) , the other ( the eldest) died in a POW Camp in Osaka in 1944.
My father carried his own "baggage" from WW2 and Northern Ireland's "Troubles" certainly did not help as he saw a number of friends and colleagues injured and killed in the 1970's /80's.
The Falklands war seemed almost unreal , the UK engaged in a war which one saw reported on TV and the vicious more recent conflicts in Iran and Afghanastan one can only but feel for the young service men and women who have lost their lives and the grief so keenly felt by parnets, brothers and sisters.
Whilst we as a nation focus on one day we need to remember that for those who have lost loved ones or who have been injured and live how trauma impacts on their lives - for them everyday is one of remembering.
Perhaps not said very well but this is what I think of in the two minutes silence.

 

I shall be at the Air Forces Memorial, Runnymede tomorrow morning 11th at 11:00am to pay my respects to those who have no known grave, my father included.

 

This year, I was lucky enough to be in Australia and invited to attend a Remembrance Day ceremony at my niece's high school today.

It was wonderful to see the younger generation take part and remember the sacrifices made by many servicemen, with one student's grandfather being just 1 of 11 who survived the Western Front, out of the1100 who signed up for service from their small country town (Keith) in the SE part of South Australia.

With members of the ADF A Squadron 1st Armoured Regiment catafalque party in attendance as well, it was a moving service to remember the fallen.

 

I attended Remembrance Day ceremonies at the cenotaph at Old City Hall in Toronto.
Four RCAF Harvard aircraft did the 'missing man ' formation. Thousands of people were in attendance.

 

It's that time again, and if anything people seem to have forgotten the pain suffering, and the consequences of war, and conflict.

Politicians this means you?

Time indeed, seems to wash away the lessons learned. All the pain and the suffering.

While those families who were involved, or affected by the consequences live with the pain daily.

See the messages above.

And all that remains is the faces and names, of the wifes, the sons and the daughters.

2 mins of reflection seems too short, compared to all those crosses.

Least we forget.

 

In present wars nine out of ten people killed are civilians, many of them children. Are they are not also worthy of Remembrance?

 

I honestly can't recall if my father attended Remembrance Day or not. He certainly wore his poppy, but rarely spoke of his service or his dead brother.

But there was 40 years in age difference between me and my father and Uncle Sandy had been dead almost 30 years before I was born.

I do recall though visiting the hospital when Dad died Sunday 8th Nov 87 and gazing with horror at him being laid out in a frilly white shroud.

I was nearly shouting at the staff for putting him in a skirt as I saw it at the time, instead of a familiar pair of pyjamas. Then I nearly burst out laughing as the song "one day I'll fly away" came drifting through the closed curtains and then all I could think was, well at least you'll not be forgotten dying on Remembrance Sunday Dad.

I do wonder where Remembrance Sunday is heading. Saw an article about illegally imported poppy jewelry that was seized and the sense its being commercialized.

I agree somewhat with this article too and worry its meaning is being hijacked. The vandalism of memorials is of great concern and does sadden me.

There’s nothing glorious in what Remembrance Day has become