Remembrance Day, 2005

For all of my Life, my heroes were the Soldiers of the British Empire - and particularly, the Men & Women of the Canadian Expeditionary Force in both The Great War and the Second World War.

Four of my Kin Passed from the Sight of Man and into Glory in these two Wars. We have never forgotten them, and every Remembrance Day we Honour their Memory.

While it is true that they died for Peace and Freedom, it is also a fact of their Lives, that they died in direct service of King, Country & Empire as well.

These were the Men and Women who built modern Canada. These were the people who gave their all to keep Canada TRUE, NORTH, STRONG & FREE.

They were not Americans. They were Canadians - and proudly So. They fought the King's enemies, and engaged the foe a total of 5.5 years (in both Wars) before the Americans saw fit to rise to the defence of Civilisation.

All served Honourably.

Some were wasted in reckless charges. Some were sacrificed prematurely for the greater good. Some never felt death envelop them. Some suffered grievously, before they were called to Eternal Rest. Some demonstrated Uncommon Valour in the face of grave danger. Others were found wanting in that Department.

All served Honourably.

They were true Canadians - and We shall never see their Like again.

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 (1869-1943)