We shall remember them

My father fought in the First World War, joining up, illicitly, at seventeen years of age.

He survived the 'Man's War' as he used to describe it but it left an indelible mark on him as it must have done with thousands more.

His first years of service were with the East Surrey Regiment ('Steady the Buffs') and he soon found himself in the trenches of Flanders.

I recall him telling me, with all due modesty, how he survived as a very young (Catholic) male thrust into living at close quarters with what seemed to be the male population of the East End of London.

A rough and ready group of men by all accounts.

Each night he shared a nissan hut with about 60 other servicemen and, before climbing into bed he would kneel and say his night prayers - to a chorus of obscene jeers and boos.

I do not think that I would have had that sort of courage at the age of seventeen, or, indeed, now.

In the trenches, he trained as a signaller and was, for a time, on the staff of the Signals Regiment. During this period he was despatched, along with an officer and two other privates, to camp out in no man's land for a three day period, sending back signals recording enemy movements.

The group was hit by a shell which mortally wounded the officer and killed the two privates. My father was badly wounded by shrapnel in the neck.
Nevertheless, he stayed in the shell hole nursing the officer until he died and sending back information on the enemy.

After the death of the officer he tried to find his way back to his lines carrying his rifle which was useless due to shell damage. He tucked the splintered stock beneath his arm and carried on until he came across a group of thirty or so Germans.

Pointing his defunct rifle at them he commanded them to "Hande hoch!" and marched them back to where his unit was based.

For this he was awarded the Military Medal.

He was then invalided out of France spending seven days being shunted around France in a cattle wagon until, at last, he was shipped back to 'Blighty' to recover.

His parish then was St Margaret's, Canning Town, and his Parish Priest, being of stout Irish stock, counselled him on transferring to the Irish Guards "as the fact is, my boy, they are not sending any more of their troops overseas and it is a Catholic regiment".

Sadly, the first part of the good priest's advice proved to be untrue and within 6 weeks of being classified as fit for service, my father was back in the trenches with the Guards.

In the final few weeks of the war he was commissioned into the Munster Fusiliers.

Two memories stand out from the war tales that he told me.

The first was the way in which the Irish Guards Catholic chaplains went over the top with the rest of the men when the attack whistle blew.
With stoles flapping around their necks, the chaplains ran into fields of deadly fire, responding to cries of "absolution Father" by bestowing the Sacrament of Penance on the troops as they ran.

My second memory is of an occasion when I was showing my Father a book on the Great War.
In particular, I showed him a picture of a battlefield covered by fallen bodies.

"Was it really as bad as that?" I asked.

"No" he replied. "It was far worse, the bodies in no man's land would be two or three deep"

Last week I had a business meeting with an eminent academic.

I wore a red poppy in my buttonhole.

I was shocked and then intensely angry that he sported a white poppy in his.

We owe it to those who died and suffered in both World Wars, to remember their bravery and sacrifice; not to glorify war but to recall the sacrifices that were made.

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.

John McCrae

Richard Collins Born 29th August 1897 - Died 24th January 1979 RIP

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them, 

may they rest in peace. Amen

We will remember them......

....and the fact that we can get £3.50 per kilo for old brass. copper and bronze war memorial plaques......even more for larger items such as statues and other memorabilia.......

"We will remember them....and steal their  memorials"

........Thieves stole memorial plaques from a Catholic Church in Swansea, here is the BBC report:-
.

"Church-goers were left in tears after thieves stole more than 100 brass plaques erected in memory of loved ones, many of them war dead.

The plaques, bearing the names of those who died in World War II, were unscrewed from the memorial wall at Holy Cross Catholic Church in Swansea.
Police say they were stolen between 19:00 BST last Thursday and 15:00 BST last Friday.
Father Cyril Thadathil said the congregation was devastated.
He said the thieves had taken all of the plaques at the memorial garden, many of which paid tribute to men who served in World War II.

"It's not about money because it's the memories and dignity of human life”

Said Parish priest,  Father Cyril Thadathil

He said when he made the discovery it was "so painful".

"It was the memory of so many people of our parish, people who have worked so hard for the church and people who sacrificed their life in the Second World War," he said.
"As soon as I saw it I was upset."
He said that when he told worshippers what had happened "there was a great silence in church and many of them actually cried".
He also appealed to the thieves to return the plaques.
"If possible please do return them to the church because it's not about money because it's the memories and dignity of human life," he added.
Ronald Morgan, 75, of Gendros, Swansea, said the timing of the thefts made it even more poignant, with remembrance services taking place in November.
"There were a lot of people whose names are ex-military personnel and their husbands and grandfather who were in memory," he added.

These are the times in which we live; our children and grandchildren will have to face much worse; pray for them and pray for the thieves.

When we remember the war dead.....

....we remember the British, the Anzacs,  Canadians, Americans, Indians, many Africans and other allied forces who gave their lives or their limbs that we might be free.

But do we also remember the Germans?

"With banners furled, and clarions mute,
An army passes in the night;
And beaming spears and helms salute
The dark with bright..."  Herman Melville
The German Cemetery at Cambie, Normandy

Of course, we must; war is a great leveller and forgiveness is a keystone of our faith.

But, what about the Japanese? Have they been airbrushed out of our Remembrance prayers and thoughts?

Hard, isn't it? Is there just a small speck of racism here?

Germans equal white European; Japanese equal slant eyes Asian.....but, in God's eyes there are no such distinguishing features - only souls that He created.

"No one travels
Along this way but I,
                             This autumn evening."  Matsuo Basho

A Sung Requiem Mass will be celebrated at St Therese of Lisieux Church, Sandfields, Port Talbot at 5pm Sunday 13th November

In Flanders the poppies were red...let's keep them that way

The First World War was, arguably, the worst man-made holocaust the world has ever seen.
Constant shelling, gun batteries drawn by mules and horses, heavy supply wagons and  men by the hundred thousand, all created a battlefield that was a swamp of mud with bodies lying several feet deep in some places.

Picardy and Flanders were the areas most devastated but, in the midst of what must have been a foul smelling Spring time, red poppies sprang up across No man's land - the only vegetation to grow under those conditions.

The shedding of blood symbolised by

the red poppy

Ever since, the red poppy has become a symbol of the fallen war dead or those incapacitated by war.

It is used as a means of fund raising by the Royal British Legion and the cash raised from the sale of poppy badges goes to provide for the welfare of the men and women of the armed forces who have fought on our behalf and who are now suffering as a result.

A few years ago a group of CND types and Quakers introduced a white poppy as a counter to the red.

And now the white poppy campaign is slowly gaining momentum and this just must not be allowed to continue.

Offered under the strapline "White poppies for a culture of Peace" the campaign carefully inserts the innuendo that a red poppy must stand for war.

That is, of course, just not true.

The red poppy and all the ceremonies and church services surrounding Remembrance Sunday are aimed at helping us to remember the sacrifices made on our behalf; they do not ever 'glorify' war.

The white poppy exercise is, I believe, a pacifist manoeuvre and I hold no respect for pacifists who abstain from their duty at times of national crisis.
It is also unclear as to where the cash raised from white poppy sales goes to.


This is the famous poem by John McCrae.....

                                           

 In Flanders fields

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.



So this year, wear a red poppy as a token of gratitude to those who gave their lives, limbs or good health as a sacrifice on our behalf.

A Missa Cantata will be held at the Church of St Therese de Lisieux, Sandfields, Port Talbot on Sunday 13th November at 5pm.

Celebrant: Fr Paul Brophy

We remember the sacrifice but, above all, we remember the souls

Remembrance Sunday, a day on which we recall loved ones, friends and all who gave their lives in conflicts. But, as Father Jones said in his sermon this morning at an EF Requiem Mass: "As Catholics we recall and pray for the souls of those who died...."
It is very easy to get caught up in the secular elements of remembering, important to remember that release from Purgatory is the all important factor.

 Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,

And let perpetual light shine upon them

May they rest in peace

Amen.

ABSOLUTION

The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes

Till beauty shines in all that we can see.

War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,

And, fighting for our nation, we are free.

Horror of wounds and anger at the foe,

And loss of things desired; all  these must pass.

We are the happy legion, for we know

Time's but a golden wind that shakes the grass.

There was an hour when we were loth to part

From life we longed to share no less than others.

Now, having claimed this heritage of heart,

What need we more, my comrades and my brothers?

                                          Siegfried Sassoon

Siegfried Sassoon was one of the few war poets to survive the trenches of World War 1 (the man's war). He was an officer in the Royal Welch Fusiliers and a friend of Robert Graves. After the war he became editor of the Herald and enjoyed the rural life, writing a number of  autobiographical works. He converted to the Catholic Faith in 1957. He died in 1967 at the age of 81.