Friday, 16 November 2012

Remembrance Day

The snow speckled fields and trenches of Vimy Ridge
This year I thought the Little Dude (nearly 5) was old enough to be taught about Remembrance Day.  I had talked to him about the horrors of war before and thought this would be a good time to bring home the human face of war.

I explained to him the terror and courage of soldiers, the mateship, the death and maiming, the families left behind, the bloody futility of war and how, though we are staunch pacifists, we should be ever-so-grateful for the sacrifices of those who fought for us. With a tear welling in my eye, I explained to him the minute's silence and how we should observe it.

At 11 AM we turned on the radio to listen to the Ode of Remembrance and hear the Last Post haunt our silent room.  As the bugle played I told him "this song is called the Last Post," and my thoughts wandered to my visit to battlefields of France.

The bugle faded and the minute of silence started.  It was broken prematurely by the Little Dude's innocence: "did they kill all the mailmen?"


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