A few years ago, I made several business trips to London and other parts of the United Kingdom. One trip to London occurred in November, right after a very historic U.S. Presidential election (if I remember correctly) and as the U.K. began to commemorate what the nation refers to as Remembrance Day. My visit that November was brief, but I’ve though often about what I saw and the emotions I experienced.
Beginning with the guns
of August in 1914 and finally ending at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day
of the eleventh month in 1918, the First World War—the Great War—exacted a horrific
toll on human life—more than any previous conflict. The carnage was so vast,
involving soldiers and civilians from so many different nations, that historians
cannot agree on exactly how many people lost their lives.
A study conducted on behalf of the Carnegie Endowment
estimated that more than 9.7
million military personnel from more than two dozen nations lost their lives. Adding
to the tragedy, more than 6.8 million civilians died from war-related
maladies such as starvation and disease. In all, about 16.5 million people perished
during the “War to End All Wars.”
Great Britain and
Ireland, with a combined population of 46.1 million, mobilized 6.1 million army
and navy personnel. More than 750,000 military and 600,000 civilians—a total of
1.35 million—died.
After the conflict ended,
the United States designated November 11th, the day hostilities
ceased in World War I, as Armistice Day. Later that special observance morphed
into a more general celebration of those who have served in uniform—Veterans Day.
In Great Britain,
November 11th is referred to as Remembrance Day. And the Sunday
nearest November 11th is referred to as Remembrance Sunday. Originally
a response to World War I, Remembrance Day and Remembrance Sunday now honor those
who have fallen in battle in the defense of their nation—similar to Memorial
Day in the U.S. Red paper poppies serve as a visual—and visceral—symbol of “remembrance”
to the British.
Along with the cost in
human life, the First World War decimated the landscape of Western Europe,
which had seen bloody back-and-forth offensives and the murderous stalemate of
trench warfare. Yet a singular sight gave one man hope. John McCrae, a military
doctor from Canada, viewed the battlegrounds and penned a poem, In Flanders
Fields:
In
Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between
the crosses, row on row,
That
mark our place; and in the sky
The
larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce
heard amid the guns below.
We are
the Dead. Short days ago
We
lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved
and were loved, and now we lie,
In
Flanders fields.
Take up
our quarrel with the foe:
To you
from failing hands we throw
The
torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye
break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Based largely on the
imagery of McCrae’s poem, efforts by various individuals resulted in the red
poppy becoming an iconic emblem of Remembrance Day.
Remembrance Day and Remembrance Sunday bring with them parades, speeches, and sermons. But what was most remarkable to me were the rows and rows of red poppies attached to crosses, Stars of David, and other artifacts that were then placed in church yards and parks throughout the city. I remember the fields of honor at Westminster Abby the most. Many of the poppy-adorned artifacts contained pictures or other tributes to the fallen and were viewed in thoughtful, silent reverence by thousands.
The photograph above gives a hint of the emotional impact of
visiting this solemn place, where, to paraphrase, the poppies still
blow “. . . Between the crosses, row on row.”
2 comments:
Thank you, Michael. I have often thought of how the British, with their position in the far Northeast of Europe, have had to shoulder more than their share of the "slings and arrows" of the 20th century. Warfare isn't fair, but the British (or the English, if you will) have more than their fair share of poets. As Americans, we owe them.
Maria Hudgins
We owe them more than one can imagine. And their loses were so great, proportionate to their population. It was over a dozen years ago that I observed the fields of poppies at Westminster. I was moved then, and continue to be moved when I remember the images. Each remembrance is a simple thing. But together, so powerful and solemn.
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