Lest we forget

There have been a lot of poppy and cenotaph blips today so I thought I'd try something a wee bit different. There are obviously many valid reasons to mark today but the most valid is still the original reason, to remember the tragedy of a generation of ordinary people from many many countries making huge sacrifices in the name of the ruling classes of a cluster of countries desperately trying to cling on to the last vestiges of their imperial power.

Hopefully it's something that will always be remembered so teh world will never need to go through sacrifice on that scale again.

Anyway, Wilfred Owen sums the whole thing up much better than I ever could.

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.










And on a slightly lighter note congratulations to Blipcentral on winning the BAFTA!