Lest We Forget
Since becoming a mother of 2 boys I have a hard time watching war movies. I picture my boys in the soldier’s place and it breaks my heart. Recently I watched a movie on TVO, a biopic of Rudyard Kipling called My Boy Jack. Yeah I bawled, and then I went to see if Rudyard’s son survived WWI.
He didn’t, and then Rudyard wrote this poem:
MY BOY JACK~Rudyard Kipling circa 1914-1918
“HAVE you news of my boy Jack? ”
Not this tide.
“When d’you think that he’ll come back?”
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
“Has any one else had word of him?”
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
“Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?”
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind—
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide.
This is this the time we need to remember sons, fathers, brothers, husbands …even mother, sisters, wives, daughters who fought as well. Think of those who fought & died for our freedom.
For the boys who never came home, like Jack.
Lest we forget.
November 10th, 2009 at 11:21 pm
One of the best thing about living in Canada is the spirit I encounter every year at this time. The people donning poppies, the older folks putting on their uniforms one more time. We live such cushy lives it’s hard to remember and remind the young it wasn’t always this way, that the old man in the wheelchair once jumped from a heaving boat into hostile waters, heading for a beach where shrapnel and bullets were his only welcome. That the old lady who walks too slow for your liking once ran from bed to bed, trying desperately to heal or comfort men who were injured trying to defend and create this life we live. And so it goes, into today, and when we turn up our noses at authority we need to remember we are turning up our noses not just at an anonymous system but at the men and women who fought and died, and fight and die today, to allow us the opportunity to have a system at all.
I too have a son, and I would honestly hate to see him go to war, but if he feels the need to serve I would be proud, as I know you would be too, Amy, should one of your boys do likewise…
Wouldn’t it be nice to have a world where that kind of sacrifice wouldn’t be necessary… oh, the power of dreams!
November 11th, 2009 at 12:01 am
I remember crying during the scene in The Two Towers where the sons are being rounded up from their mothers to help defend Helms Deep. Because, like you, I kept imagining my sons being torn from me. (9/11 hadn’t been that much before, and my eldest was seriously considering enlisting - was even in the Air Cadets.)
My dad was in the RAF, my grandfathers were in the Royal Navy and Royal Marines (one was a POW in Germany, captured in Crete in the early days), and my FIL served in the Canadian Army and helped liberate Holland. Hearing the tales - and not hearing them, which was just as powerful - of when they served, I’ve always worn the poppy with pride.
Lovely post, Amy.
November 11th, 2009 at 1:06 am
Yes Anya, you are right. I would be proud, but scared out of my mind. Definitely proud if it was their choice.
Oh Leah, yes I cry at that scene everytime.
Like Saving Private Ryan was a great movie. I could never watch it again, two reasons. The mother getting the telegram and fainting learning 4 of her 5 boys were dead and the men on the beach, blasted apart by the barage of bullets crying for their mother.
November 11th, 2009 at 11:39 pm
I saw that film too, Amy. It was last year, either on CBC or PBS. Loved it.
These ending lines from the poem are my favorite:
‘Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide.’
My sweet nephew wanted to join the American military for quite awhile before he actually signed up. His dad tried to dissuade him, but Jake was adamant. He served over in Iraq and is now home and in one piece. I never saw the inner warrior that lurked inside my quiet, gentle nephew, but he felt it. If you’re called to serve, the call is strong.
November 14th, 2009 at 4:40 pm
I’m terrified of war. Been to Vimy Ridge, seen the scars that still, after all this time, mar the earth… and just knowing the green grass covers the blood of Canadian boys makes me weep.
My father and grandfather were soldiers, the first in WWII, the former in WWI.
I know I’m a coward but should a war break out that my sons may be apart of, I’m moving us all to Antarctica.