Here I am. Once again I find myself putting together the November NSHEA newsletter. I want to include poems and quotes that honour the memories of those who have fought and still fight, for our freedom. But, I don't want to repeat the same ones I placed last year. ( I think it very important to gain different perspectives from people who were/are affected, hence why I would like to use different pieces this yea)r. So I referred to last year's November issue of the newsletter. When I did, it reminded me about a post I put on facebook a year ago. I decided I wanted to share it with you.
November 10, 2010
I was compiling some Remembrance Day poems and quotes for this year's NSHEA November newsletter when I came across a series of poems by my great - grandfather. He, himself, served in WWI and WWII. He watched how war affected the town of Springhill, and the sacrifice that was made so that Canada (and other countries) would remain free.
November 10, 2010
I was compiling some Remembrance Day poems and quotes for this year's NSHEA November newsletter when I came across a series of poems by my great - grandfather. He, himself, served in WWI and WWII. He watched how war affected the town of Springhill, and the sacrifice that was made so that Canada (and other countries) would remain free.
As November 11 approaches in near minutes, I remember, not only my great grand-father, but my grandfathers, my uncles and great-uncles, and my friends; all who have served this country either in the wars or in the armed forces years later. I also take a moment to remember those who served along side them and those who were on the homefront, as well as those who are presently serving. Without them, we would not know freedom like we do.
I know peace had its cost. Lest we forget.
TO MY SON
You saw your duty, and did it well.
You suffered, fought, ‘mid shot and shell.
You gave your life, and where you fell,
A wooden cross doth mark it well.
My heart is full. I’m proud. I’m sad.
I’m proud that you proved your worth, my lad!
I’m sad at the loss of a manly son,
Who gave his life because of the Hun.
You are laid at rest in a foreign grave.
You didn’t shrink, your life to save,
But answered the call your country made.
You couldn’t think of her a slave!
And someday when this war is o’er,
I’ll set my feet on that distant shore,
And then to God, on bended knee,
I’ll give my thanks that we are free.
Yes, at the cross that marks your grave,
I’ll thank my God that I’m not a slave,
Because of my lad, of boys like thee,
Who fought and died to keep us free!
“Dedicated to my son: Sgt. William G. Fletcher, who was killed in action in North Africa on April 2nd, 1943.”
1943-1944
~ Q.M.S. Charles B. Letcher
