Thursday, February 4, 2010

The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, 1918

"Let him who thinks that War is a glorious golden thing, who loves to roll forth stirring words of exhortation, invoking Honor and Praise and Valor and Love of Country with as thoughtless and fervid a faith as inspired the priests of Baal to call on their own slumbering deity...let him look at a little pile of sodden grey rags that cover half a skull and a shin bone and what might have been its ribs, or at this skeleton lying on its side, resting half-crouching as it fell, supported on one arm, perfect but that it is headless, and with the tattered clothing still draped around it; and let him realize how grand and glorious a thing it is to have distilled all Youth and Joy and Life into a foetid heap of hideous putrescence. Who is there who has known and seen who can say that Victory is worth the death of even one of these?" Roland Leighton
"The old lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.":Sweet and fitting it is to die for one's country. Lieutenant Wilfred Owen, who's parents received the telegram of his death as the church bells rang in celebration of the Armistice on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, 1918.

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