I’m in my 40’s now and you’re still 23.
I wont make out to see you this year, but I’ll be by in time.
Help feed the kitties. Go Shopping!
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April 25, 2007 at 2:42 am |
” I stood with three comrades in Parliament Square,
November her grey freights of fire unloading,
Above us the sea bell eleven exploding.
Down by the bands and the burning memorial
beats all the brass in a royal array but at our end we’re not so sartorial
Out of, as usual, the rig of the day.
Dinger is wearing his split Pusser’s flannel, rubbed as he is by the regular tide
Oxo the ducks that he ditched in the channel, in June 1940 while he was inside.
Kitty recalls his abandon-ship station as he hurries below at the Old Man’s salute,
And with the deck watch went down for duration, wearing his oppo’s pneumonia suit.
Comrades for you the black captain of carrachs writes in Whitehall his appalling decisions.
But as was often the case in the barracks, several ratings are not at divisions.
I stand alone in Parliament Square.
Into my eyes the grey seahorses stare,
over my head sweeps the sun like a swan.
A cold bugle blows
And the city moves on”
Remembrance Day…Charles Causley
April 26, 2007 at 1:10 pm |
Absent friends
April 28, 2007 at 5:45 pm |
That’s a great poem, George, but it seems to be called “Armistice Day”. I wasn’t able to find out what collection of Causley’s poems it was in.
April 30, 2007 at 4:23 pm |
Sorry, I memorised it some years back–should have started with the title!
I don’t recall which collection. Try ‘Goodbye Aggie Weston’
Good luck.
July 14, 2009 at 12:13 pm |
Hi,
Just a note about the poem. I am 57 years old and back in college. I found your conversation while researching the slang used in this poem. I can see this would have special meaning for those who have gone to war. Thank you for your sacrifice. Even though I’m a Yank I see that your losses benefited all human kind.
The wording in the Norton Anthology of English Literature is as follows. Nice job of quoting from memory.
Armistice Day
By Charles Causley
Published in 1957
I stood with three comrades in Parliament Street
November her freights of grey fire unloading
No sound from the pale city upon the pale air
Above us the sea-bell eleven unloading.
Down by the bands and the burning memorial
Beats all the brass in a royal array
But at our end we are not so sartorial:
Out of (as usual) the rig of the day.
Starry is wearing a split pusser’s flannel
Rubbed, as he is, by the regular tide;
Oxo the ducks that he ditched in the Channel
In June, 1940 (when he was inside).
Kitty recalls his abandon-ship station,
Running below at the Old Man’s salute
And (with a deck-watch) going down for duration
Wearing his oppo’s pneumonia suit.
Comrades, for you the black captain of carracks
Writes in Whitehall his appalling decisions,
But as was often the case in the Barracks
Several ratings are not at Divisions.
Into the eyes the stiff sea-horses stare,
Over my head sweeps the sun like a swan.
As I stand alone in Parliament Square
A cold bugle calls, and the city moves on.
July 14, 2009 at 4:36 pm |
Thank you Brett, in this particular instance Steve was killed in a training accident. The Scorpion he commanded had a transmission failure and the left track stopped driving at around 90k/h resulting in a sharp left turn off the road and the left side went up a bank causing the wagon to role.
The commanders seat was in the up position and there was too much intertia for him to drop it and he was killed instantly.
Soldiering is a dangerous business on a good day.