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 The simplicity of my day to day. |
| Prompt: Veterans and Heroism Today, November 11 is Veterans Day in the United States, the anniversary of the 1918 armistice that ended World War I. For the US writers, what is the best way to honor our veterans? Then, what can we, civilians, do to better understand the experience and challenges of the veterans? For WdC's writers not from the USA, what is heroism to you and who would you call a real hero? When I was born in England in 1944, the Second World War still hadn't ended. I grew up always knowing the 11th November as Remembrance Day. Everyone wore a poppy on that day. Poppies are worn on Remembrance Day to commemorate the sacrifice of those who have died in war, a tradition that stems from their profusion on the battlefields of World War I. Inspired by the poem "In Flanders Fields." The red poppy became an international symbol of remembrance, representing both the blood spilled and the hope of renewal. Even at school poppies were sold for a small price and all the money raised would go to the returned soldiers or the wives and families of those killed. You would often see injured soldiers selling the poppies on street corners. Remembrance Day started in 1919 as Armistice Day, one year after World War I ended on November 11, 1918. Originally established to commemorate the end of WWI, its name was changed to Remembrance Day after World War II to honor those who have died in ll wars and conflicts. First observance: The first Armistice Day was on November 11, 1919, with a two-minute silence observed for the first time at 11 a.m. to mark the end of the war. 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. |
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