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Author Topic: 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month...  (Read 1352 times)

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Offline Barman

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11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month...
« on: November 11, 2012, 06:20:16 AM »
In Memoriam

by Ewart Alan Mackintosh (killed in action 21st November 1917 aged 24)

So you were David’s father,
And he was your only son,
And the new-cut peats are rotting
And the work is left undone,
Because of an old man weeping,
Just an old man in pain,
For David, his son David,
That will not come again.

Oh, the letters he wrote you,
And I can see them still,
Not a word of the fighting,
But just the sheep on the hill
And how you should get the crops in
Ere the year get stormier,
And the Bosches have got his body,
And I was his officer.

You were only David’s father,
But I had fifty sons
When we went up in the evening
Under the arch of the guns,
And we came back at twilight -
O God! I heard them call
To me for help and pity
That could not help at all.

Oh, never will I forget you,
My men that trusted me,
More my sons than your fathers’,
For they could only see
The little helpless babies
And the young men in their pride.
They could not see you dying,
And hold you while you died.

Happy and young and gallant,
They saw their first-born go,
But not the strong limbs broken
And the beautiful men brought low,
The piteous writhing bodies,
They screamed “Don’t leave me, sir”,
For they were only your fathers
But I was your officer.


Inspiration for the Poem

On the evening of 16th May, 1916 Lieutenant Ewart Alan Mackintosh and Second Lieutenant Mackay of the 5th Battalion Seaforth Highlanders led a raid on the German trenches in the sector of the front line north-west of Arras.

By the end of the night there were sixteen British casualties, which included fourteen wounded and two killed. One of the two dead soldiers was Private David Sutherland.

Private David Sutherland has no known grave. His name is commemorated in Bay 8 of the Arras Memorial to the Missing at Faubourg d'Amiens military cemetery in Arras.
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Offline GROWLER

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Re: 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month...
« Reply #1 on: November 11, 2012, 09:20:24 AM »
Touching that is.
Thanks for that.

Offline Marley's Ghost (Imbiber of Spirits)

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Re: 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month...
« Reply #2 on: November 11, 2012, 06:41:56 PM »
Lest we forget . . . . .  sad24:
"Political Correctness is a doctrine fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end." 

Well, someone had to say it!

Offline Nick

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Re: 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month...
« Reply #3 on: November 11, 2012, 07:17:59 PM »
my granny died as a result of ww1. the flu epidemic of 1918
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Offline miss Tchevious

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Re: 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month...
« Reply #4 on: November 11, 2012, 08:21:37 PM »
I did a education board approved assignment ( not one of the options on the curiculum ) for my A level Eng Lit assignment, and wanted to do it on war literature. Having been so moved by poems and novels I delved deeper and decided to do my study on letters and poems that were never published. I sat for hours in a special room in the British Museum wearing little gloves reading notes that had been written on the back of food packages, tissue etc. Am always so moved by it.
  That poem is beautiful and tragic and am still bawling, but the reality of it is so much more potent when you are physically holding the original writing of a soldier.

They will never be forgotten.

Offline Just One More

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Re: 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month...
« Reply #5 on: November 11, 2012, 11:17:52 PM »
 :thumbsup:
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Offline Barman

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Re: 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month...
« Reply #6 on: November 12, 2012, 08:27:39 AM »
I did a education board approved assignment ( not one of the options on the curiculum ) for my A level Eng Lit assignment, and wanted to do it on war literature. Having been so moved by poems and novels I delved deeper and decided to do my study on letters and poems that were never published. I sat for hours in a special room in the British Museum wearing little gloves reading notes that had been written on the back of food packages, tissue etc. Am always so moved by it.
  That poem is beautiful and tragic and am still bawling, but the reality of it is so much more potent when you are physically holding the original writing of a soldier.

They will never be forgotten.

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Offline Barman

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