They're all Fullbore. Ponder this weekend.
These pics are from my personal collection from my travels; from the infrequently visited, but beautifully kept Netherlands American Cemetery and Memorial in Margraten, The Netherlands.
They remember.
They remember.
15 comments:
I will just post here a smallbore, yet fullbore from the end of the world...
http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/crime/5062269/Hero-schoolkids-thwart-girls-abduction
future Kiwi SAS?
Here dead we lie
Because we did not choose
To live, and shame the land
From which we sprung.
Life, to be sure,
Is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is,
And we were young.
(A E Houseman)
"On we fly, on wings of thunder, nevermore to sheath our swords.
All of us in battles fallen, not to be brought back by words.
Will there be a rendezvous? I know not.
I only know we still must fight.
We are sand grains in infinity, never to meet, nevermore see light."
And to think that the number of soldiers buried in this relatively obscure cemetery exceeds all of those KIA in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Wow Grandpa!
The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
The soldier's last tatoo;
No more on Life's parade shall meet
The brave and fallen few.
On fame's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents to spread,
And glory guards, with solemn round
The bivouac of the dead.
No rumour of the foe's advance
Now swells upon the wind;
Nor troubled thought at midnight haunts
Of loved ones left behind;
No vision of the morrow's strife
The warriors dreams alarms;
No braying horn or screaming fife
At dawn shall call to arms.
Theodore O'Hara
<span>The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
The soldier's last tatoo;
No more on Life's parade shall meet
The brave and fallen few.
On fame's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents to spread,
And glory guards, with solemn round
The bivouac of the dead.
No rumor of the foe's advance
Now swells upon the wind;
Nor troubled thought at midnight haunts
Of loved ones left behind;
No vision of the morrow's strife
The warriors dreams alarms;
No braying horn or screaming fife
At dawn shall call to arms.
Theodore O'Hara</span>
<span><span>The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
The soldier's last tattoo;
No more on Life's parade shall meet
The brave and fallen few.
On fame's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents to spread,
And glory guards, with solemn round
The bivouac of the dead.
No rumor of the foe's advance
Now swells upon the wind;
Nor troubled thought at midnight haunts
Of loved ones left behind;
No vision of the morrow's strife
The warrior's dreams alarms;
No braying horn or screaming fife
At dawn shall call to arms.
Theodore O'Hara</span></span>
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.
I shudder anytime I read casualty reports of battles during the American Civil war. Both sides routinely took casualty rates that would be unthinkable today. And unsustainable...
makes me want watch "A bridge too far" again...
capturing the bridge on the Waal by amphibious airborne - epic!
CDR, it just so happens that I visited that cemetary back when I was a teenager, on a trip to Europe with my family. It is a most beautiful place. And I'm very happy to report that as we were leaving, two busloads of local students were pulling up for a tour of the grounds. We in America often wonder if Europeans have any appreciation of the sacrifice that so many of our young men made on their behalf. I was really happy that students were being taught about the price that Americans paid for their freedom.
May the memory of the fallen be a blessing forever. God grant them, each and every one, honored repose.
there seems to be an awful lot of them, American military cemetaries in forgien lands, an awful lot of them.
C
The American Cemetery in Netuno, Italy, outside of Rome is an impressive sight too. However, the most moving experience I've had in that regard was when I visited the Polish Cemetery at Monte Cassino.
I told a young friend yesterday that he should make sure that one day he visits Gettysburg. Start where Buford met his end. Do Devils Den. Stand on Little Round Top and imagine the boys from Maine fighting those from Texas. Walk the length of Pickets Charge. Last, go to the visitors center and tour the immense graveyard. If you are unaffected by this sight, you are hopeless and not much of an American; There are the souls of so many American boys from both sides who fell at Gettysburg. I personally had cold shivers and could practically feel the dead still standing in formation or to the battle line all around me.
Byron,
Buford met his end in Washington DC in December of that year, from typhus. You likely mean John Reynolds?
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