I will always think of this day in November as Remembrance Day and hear the sounds of Elgar's Nimrod echoing in my ears from having watched the services and poppy wreath laying at the Cenotaph in Whitehall, London, when I was young.
Originally this day was called Armistice Day, to commemorate the end of fighting in WW I and the armistice signed on November 11th 1918. After the end of WW II it became known as Remembrance Day in England and Veterans Day in America.
One chilly November day we walked between the rows of gravestones at the British Cemetery in France.
Then walked those very beaches where so many lost their lives.
The WW I battlefields are known collectively as the Flanders Fields. The ground was so disturbed by mortar shells that it brought to the surface thousands of poppy seeds which bloomed the following year. The red corn poppy became the emblem of the fallen because of this and was immortalized in the words of John McCrae in his poem The Flanders Fields.
Potted, the book (a review and a give-away)
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