Author: David “Listy” Lister
Hello everyone, since today it’s the Remembrance Day in Britain, here’s a little something from Listy to the topic.
-SS
As I live in East Anglia, for this weeks article it seemed fitting, considering the time of year, to visit the US Cemetery in Madingley near Cambridge. While there, I took a few photographs.
It lies on the side of a hill to the west of Cambridge – despite being alongside a busy main road, it’s extremely peaceful inside. Next to the main entrance for coaches stands a model of the site:
The memorial wall separates the small car park. At the start of the wall stands a dedication:
After that, there’s the wall stretching to the distance with over 5,000 names on it, including at least two (that I spotted) Medal of Honor recipients. How much room do the 5,000 missing names take up? Well, this photograph was taken standing next to the chapel at the other end of the wall to the dedication:
Along the wall stand four exquisitely detailed statues.
The doors of the chapel are also a work of art.
Inside the Chapel itself is a huge mural, showing the area of operations, where most of the interred suffered their fate.
There is a small visitor center, that has some basic information about the US forces and WW2.
It has two small bits of history of the cemetery itself.
This view is of the chapel from further down the field:
The people hidden in this picture in the right background are not visitors. They’re a group of volunteers, organised by Captain Huber from the two local USAF bases (Lakenheath and Alconbury), who had given up their Friday morning to stand in the cold and rain, cleaning the grave stones by hand. As you can see that is likely an unending task.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
- Lawrence Binyon, Ode of Remembrance
Fitting post Listy, thanks.
In Flanders Fields
John McCrae
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.
Lest we forget.
Having been a Cavalryman, the last line always gets me thinking.
Fiddler’s Green
Halfway down the trail to Hell, in a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped, near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place is known as Fiddlers’ Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell the Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers, Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen dismount at Fiddlers’ Green.
Though some go curving down the trail to seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell ere he’s emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again with friends at Fiddlers’ Green.
And so when man and horse go down beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee you stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp, just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head and go to Fiddlers’ Green.
I Do Not Know Your Name
Kenny Martin, 2003
I do not know your name, but I know you died
I do not know from where you came, but I know you died
Your uniform, branch of service, it matters not to me
Whether Volunteer or Conscript, or how it came to be
That politicians’ failures, or some power-mad ambition
Brought you too soon to your death, in the name of any nation
You saw, you felt, you knew full well, as friend and foe were taken
By bloody death, that your life too, was forfeit and forsaken
Yet on you went and fought and died, in your close and private hell
For Mate or Pal or Regiment and memories never to tell
It was for each other, through shot and shell, the madness you endured
Side by side, through wound and pain, and comradeship assured
No family ties, or bloodline link, could match that bond of friend
Who shared the horror and kept on going, at last until the end
We cannot know, we were not there, it’s beyond our comprehension
To know the toll that battle brings, of resolute intention
To carry on, day by day, for all you loved and hoped for
To live in peace a happy life, away from bloody war
For far too many, no long life ahead, free of struggle and pain and the gun
And we must remember the price that was paid, by each and every one
Regardless of views, opinions aside, no matter how each of us sees it
They were there and I cannot forget, even though I did not live it
I do not know your name, but I know you died
I do not know from where you came, but I know you died.