I have been to several of the war graves in Normandy and I was still overwhelmed by the crosses row on row and a great feeling of sadness for those that died on both sides. They deserve to be remembered.

Here are a couple of poems I particularly think fit for today;

Poems for the Fallen; Lawrence Binyon.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We shall remember them.

A soldier stood at the Pearly Gate; Anonymous

A soldier stood at the pearly gate,
His face was scarred and old.
He stood before the man of fate
For admission to the fold.

'What have you done,' St Peter asked
'To gain admission here?'
'I've been a soldier sir,' he said
'For many and many a year.'

The Pearly Gate swung open wide
As St Peter touched the bell.
'Inside', he said,'and choose your harp.
You've had your share of hell.'


A last one by Heinrich Lersch titled 'Brothers'

For long between the trenches a dead man lat in view,
The sun shone hot upon him, wind cooled him and the dew.

And every day I saw him across the empty space,
And thought, the more I saw him: that is my brothers face.

I saw him every moment, before me as he lay,
And heard his voice that called me each happy peacefull day.

Often at night a sobbing that woke me full of fear:
You love me then no longer, O brother, brother dear?

Until one night I went across, though round me bullets flew,
And brought him in. And buried him. A man I never knew.

My eyes alone deceived me.-My heart you're not misled:
My brothers features look from all the faces of the dead.