Remembrance Day
Remembrance Day
Remembrance Day is a nationwide British Memorial Day to honour and remember those who lost their lives in the line of duty. It is also commonly known as “Poppy Day”, owing to the tradition of wearing a poppy as a sign of respect and because of the thousands of poppies that grew on the graves of the soldiers in Flanders. The event is observed each year on the eleventh day of the eleventh month (11 November).
The tradition of Remembrance Day evolved out of the end of World War One hostilities, when fighting formally ended “at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month” of 1918, in accordance with the armistice signed by representatives of Germany and the Entente between 5:12 and 5:20 that morning in Compiegne, Northern France. The agreement forced Germans to evacuate invaded countries within a two-week period.
The tradition was started by King George V in 1919 and was initially called Armistice Day. During the war an estimated 700,000 British soldiers, or around 11.5% of mobilised men, died with a total of circa 17 million civilian and military casualties. For many people in Europe this was the bloodiest war in living memory, giving rise to Remembrance Day.
Nowadays, the day is marked by a two-minute silence at 11:00, the tradition of poppy wearing and various activities for veterans and those on active duty. Wreaths, usually organised by the British Foreign Legion, are frequently laid out on war memorials across the nation.
However, the main day of remembrance is the Sunday closest to 11 November. On this day, the Queen pays tribute at the National Service of Remembrance at the Cenotaph in London. Other members of the Royal Family, serving and former members of the armed forces, representatives of Commonwealth nations and senior British politicians all join in the London service.
WW1 is also known for having sparked a wealth of literary contribution, with soldiers writing poems, novels and songs about the horrors and destruction they witnessed. This website has an excellent compilation of poems categorised by year and historical markers.
A personal favourite of mine is Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen. Owen is credited with having written some of the best WW1 poetry. He composed almost all his poetry in slightly over a year, from August 1917 to September 1918. Sadly, he was killed in action at the age of 25, one week before the Armistice.
Dulce et Decorum Est:
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 gas-shells dropping softly 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.
The Latin phrase is from the Roman poet Horace: “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.” All credits and rights for this moving poem go to the Poetry Foundation.
