Remembrance

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Last Sunday was remembrance Sunday. The UK is in lockdown. Therefore I could not attend a remembrance meeting in person. Instead, I marked it by watching the National one on TV.
Remembrance was instituted at the end of World War One. We sell poppies because of a poem that spoke of the ones in Flanders fields that seemed like blood. We also sell them to raise funds for those injured in war.
Throughout the country, there are monuments that are memorials to those who died in the war I. They have the names of the dead on them. We need those to help us remember. The first world war was called the Great War, or the war to end all wars. As we now know, that proved not to be the case. 22 years later, we were at war again.
When I was a schoolboy, the headmaster told us about his boys who never came home. He had no problem remembering them. Such a loss of life.
I did not my grandfather, but he was a  professional soldier who fought in four major wars. He survived all of them. Conscripts tend to be the first I  the firing line.
All of the generations who fought the first war are gone, and those who fought in the second are passing away. When they are gone, will we remember them? So much of the freedoms we have were fought for and won by them. Many nations were drawn into these wars and thousands of lives were sacra iced. Successive generations take that for granted.
May we always remember with respect.

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