Poppies

Today is Remembrance Sunday in the UK. It’s always held on the nearest Sunday to November 11th. All of the royal family and the big name politicians get to lay wreaths at the cenotaph in front of representatives of the survivors from the two world wars. Of course, each year now, the numbers of survivors get fewer (anyone who fought in the 1914 – 18 war is now over 100) so they bring in survivors from more recent conflicts to make up the numbers. This year is the twentieth anniversary of the Malvinas Conflict so there are a lot of people who served there getting involved.

But it’s a losing battle (no pun intended). I remember when I was at school 30 years ago you were seen as very strange if you didn’t wear a paper poppy in the run-up to remembrance day to show your support for the survivors. These days poppies are very rare. It only seems to be BBC newsreaders and a very small number of other people who bother. You’ll see hardly any on the street.

I’m reminded of a verse from Eric Bogle’s The Band Played Waltzing Matilda whic talks about the Australian version of the tradition – ANZAC Day which takes place in April.

And so now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reviving old dreams of past glory,
And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,
They’re tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask “What are they marching for?”
And I ask meself the same question.

But the band plays “Waltzing Matilda,”
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday, no one will march there at all.


The Band Played “Waltzing Matilda” – Eric Bogle

One comment

  1. I have to say, maybe I am of the minority but I still wear my poppy every year as do the rest of my family, I understand the war veterans are getting fewer every year but Remberence Day is not just about the past it is also about soldiers who are fighting in the present trying to bring peace to the world.

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