THE YPRES TIMES 143 Photo] [Imperial War Museum, Crown Copyright FILE OF MEN PICKING THEIR WAY AROUND SHELL-CRATERS IN NEWLY-WON GROUND ON THEIR WAY TO THE FRONT LINE Black despair our portion. The weary days, weeks, months crept on, each succeed ing day bringing another day like the one before it. Our homes, our loved ones ever before our mind's eye, praying for the day when we should be liberated, and able to see them once again. And then Peace. The glorious Peace the whole world had been waiting for arrived at last. Wé stood bereft of speech. Could it be true. A new world was opening up before us. Home. Loved ones. Work. Friends. We should return to them once again and take up our accustomed place. Our joy unbounded. Release from captivity. No one can ever understand our feelings as Prisoners in a Foreign land, and to regair» realise to the full the true meaning of Armistice Day, when all noises are hushed, and we stand bareheaded at 11 a.m. on each anniversary of this one day of the year, to the memory of the fallen in the Great War. Each succeeding year sees the annual parade of ex-servicemen grow less and less. Their step slower, and more feeble. Their bearing not as erect as of yore. Hair greying. Father Time overtaking many of them, leaving the survivors to carry on the tradition of upholding the memory of their fallen comrades. As I look back to Armistice Day, 1918, my mind goes back to a Salt Mine in Germany, held as a Prisoner of War. Underfed and overworked.

HISTORISCHE KRANTEN

The Ypres Times (1921-1936) | 1935 | | pagina 17