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On November 11th, Remembrance Day, at the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month, we remember them.

"Old Soldiers" which started out as a short story, came about as a result of an interview with some old soldiers/veterans for a newspaper column that I was writing at the time. Was drawn back to the story over time and as is my habit, tweaked it over the years and somehow the main focus of the story, Joe McKenna, seemed to take on a life of his own, along with his service buddies. One of my many (big on this aspect) re-writes resulted in an attempt to turn it as a radio play that was  entered in the BBC International Playwriting Competition.  Needless to say it didn't win but thought I'd share the second scene in this blog. It's still in the editing process (so what else is new). Formatting went askew in places during cut-and-paste.

To set the stage so to speak, JOE MCKENNA is a disillusioned old veteran who saw action and is angry with the world. He and his buddies are relics from another era who are afflicted with a variety of debilitating conditions, and the death of one of them hits Joe particularly hard. He decides to make a personal statement to make his views known at a remembrance day service in a park and along the way fate steps in when he meets up with a young boy (TIM) and his mother.


SCENE: A PARK.

AT RISE: Joe McKenna is slowly making his way to where the Remembrance Day service is taking place in a park. His body racked with pain, he stops to sit down on a bench. A military band can be heard in the distance playing band music and the voice speaking through a loud speaker system.


JOE:                           Look at ‘em all! Sheep – a bunch of bloody sheep!

In honor of Remembrance Day or Memorial Day or whatever and however its remembered, the first eight pages of yet anther rewrite of "Old Soldiers." I'm adapting parts of it from other versions to make it into what I hope to be, a new play. As always, comments always welcome - and appreciated.

Remembrance Day is a memorial day observed in Commonwealth of Nations member states since the end of the First World War to remember those who have died in the line of duty. It is observed by a two-minute silence on the ’11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month’, in accordance with the armistice signed by representatives of Germany and the Entente on 11 November, 1918. The First World War officially ended with the signing of the Treaty of Versailles on 28 June 1919. In the UK, Remembrance Sunday occurs on the Sunday closest to the 11th November, and is marked by ceremonies at local war memorials in most villages, towns, and cities. The red poppy has become a symbol for Remembrance Day due to the poem In Flanders Fields, by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae.

You can discover more about the history behind the First World War by exploring the free resources included in the interactive image above.

Feature image credit: Poppy Field, by Martin LaBar. CC-BY-NC-2.0 via Flickr.

The post Remembrance Day appeared first on OUPblog.

        

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Today is Armistice Day, which commemorates the ceasefire between the Allies and Germany on the Western Front during the First World War. Though battle continued on other fronts after the armistice was signed “on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month” of 1918, we remember 11 November as the official end of “the war to end all wars.”

In honor of the Great War, the Oxford Bibliographies team has created this interactive map, a visual bibliography of critical moments, battles, people, technology, and other elements that defined the spirit of the times across continents. Explore the trenches, navigate the front-lines, and track troop movements while gaining scholarly insights into this crucial period, from the outbreak of the War to its conclusion and lasting effects.

Note: This map may not be a completely accurate geographical portrayal, but it is intended to depict historical facts pertaining to the “Great War” and the countries and regions involved.

Featured image credit: Battle of Broodseynde [sic] Ridge. Troops moving up at eventide. Men of a Yorkshire regiment on the march. Ernest Brooks. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

The post Armistice Day: an interactive bibliography appeared first on OUPblog.

        

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By Charlotte Buxton

In July 1917, after three years of bloody war, anti-German feeling in Britain was reaching a feverish peak. Xenophobic mutterings about the suitability of having a German on the throne had been heard since 1914. The fact that the Royal family shared part of its name, Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, with the Gotha bombers responsible for the devastating recent raids on London turned these whispers into open cries.

In response, King George V – resenting any aspersions on his patriotism – changed the name of the British Royal family to the impeccably English-sounding Windsor. This act signalled the power of names in a society heavy with newly coined, derogatory labels for the enemy: from Jerry to Fritz, through the Krauts, the Boche, and the Hun, you needed to know who you were fighting, and why, it was felt.

But jingoism was not the only source of linguistic creativity in the period. The circumstances of the First World War were so horrific, so extraordinary, and involving so many millions of people that a new language was almost essential. Many words which emerged at the time have clear associations with the conflict, such as camouflage, blimp, aerobatics, demob, and shell shock. Others have a more complex history, emerging from soldiers’ slang; itself a product of the increased cosmopolitanism ushered in by the war.

Take me back to dear old Blighty

Before the war, many of the young Tommies (a term deriving from ‘Thomas Atkins’, which was used on specimen army documents from 1815 as the name of a typical private soldier) who were shipped abroad to fight had probably never ventured far beyond the villages in which they were born. Suddenly immersed in exotic, unfamiliar cultures, both their longing for home and their assimilation of their new surroundings are summed up in one word: Blighty.

Meaning Britain or England, but especially ‘home’, Blighty originated in the Indian army, as an anglicization of the Hindustani bilāyatī, wilāyatī meaning ‘foreign, European’. First recorded in print in 1915, Blighty was an ideal place of comfort, love, and security, sharply contrasting with the hideous discomfort, harsh discipline, and constant danger of the front, and remains a popular term amongst Brits for their homeland to this day. Less familiar is the word’s extended use, which popped up on the television programme Downton Abbey recently, when the conniving footman Thomas Barrow deliberately injures his hand in order to escape the trenches. In the programme, this war wound is referred to as a ‘Blighty’ – a popular term at the time for any injury serious enough to get its victim sent back home, hopefully for good.

Less extreme than a Blighty was a cushy wound – one which was not serious enough to get you sent home permanently, but which would usually buy some time away from the trenches. Deriving from the Hindu for ‘pleasure’, ḵushī, the word’s more familiar sense of ‘undemanding, easy, or secure’ developed at the same time. This has stuck in the language to this day, with ‘cushy job’ a particularly popular phrase in the Oxford English Corpus. In North America cushy is now also used to refer to a particularly comfy sofa or other piece of furniture – far removed, one might think, from its starting point in the mud and gore of battle.

From the trenches to the street

British soldiers adopted the language of their enemies just

This week many countries will be honoring their war dead.  Called Veterans Day in the U.S., November 11th is referred to as Remembrance Day in Canada and Armistice Day in the UK.  Although there are many fine books for children on the subject of war, the wordless picture book Why by Nikolai Popov is a compelling allegorical meditation on the subject.  It depicts an encounter between a mouse and frog that becomes suddenly fraught with tension and unexpected violence that leads to a massacre.  The book is beautifully illustrated by Popov whose own memories of the war from his perspective as a young Russian boy (he was born in 1938) are recounted in the author’s note in the back.

Are there any books about war that you share with your children?  Do share them with us!

Nikki Tate returns with her weekly teen-book review at All Points West. This week she reviews two books about growing up during World War Two, including Orca’s, What World is Left by Monique Polak. Download the Real Media Player file here.

In keeping with the theme, The Calgary Herald did an article about war and remembrance books here and the Vancouver Sun did a feature article on Montreal writer Monique Polak’s book What World is Left. 

Happy reading (and listening)!

NOTE TO SELF: WEAR A POPPY


At the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month, people take a minute out of their busy lives to stop and remember.

For the past week I've been wearing a poppy in my coat lapel. My father fought in WWII and he seldom spoke about it. Whatever his experiences, they died with him. I wear the poppy as a symbol of remembrance for his sacrifice and all the other soldiers who fought along side him. It's the least I could do.

Every year at the beginning of November one day is set aside to pay homage to Canadian soldiers who went forth to defend their country. Although their numbers are decreasing while their ages increase, still they show up every November 11th in shopping malls to sell felt poppies and make their presence felt and seen. "They" are the Canadian veterans who served overseas in World War I, World War II and the Korean War. In fact Canada deployed more than 25,000 troops to fight in Korea, frequently described as "The Forgotten War" and sustained 1,588 Canadian casualties including 516 dead.

Our country is known for its peacekeeping presence with Canada participating in every UN peacekeeping effort from its beginning until 1989 and continues to play a significant role. In excess of 125,000 Canadians have served in 50 UN peacekeeping missions since 1949.

On Remembrance Day we wear a symbolic representation of the poppy, also known as the "Flower of Remembrance", in our lapels as a gesture of respect. The poppy as most people are aware was immortalized in John McCrae's famous and moving poem, "In Flanders Fields" honouring the war dead of Britain, France, the United States and Canada. The annual Poppy Campaign is a very important fundraising program for the Royal Canadian Legion and the monies raised offer financial aid for ex-service people experiencing financial problems, in addition to funding for medical appliances and research, home services, care facilities and other purposes.

"We must remember. If we do not, the sacrifice of those one hundred thousand Canadian lives will be meaningless. They died for us, for their homes and families and friends, for a collection of traditions they cherished and a future they believed in; they died for Canada. The meaning of their sacrifice rests with our collective national consciousness; our future is their monument." (Veterans Affairs Canada)

One minute out of our otherwise busy day is not a lot to ask.

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army
IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Remembrance_Sunday
http://198.103.134.2/remembers/sub.cfm?source=teach_resources/poppy

The annual Glastonbury Music Festival and Wimbledon are both approaching, sure guarantees of rain arriving on these shores, and this morning I woke to a leak in my attic roof, so I'm feeling rather rain obsessed at the moment !


Rain

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying tonight or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be for what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me,
disappoint.

Edward Thomas' poem "Rain" was written on January 7, 1916 - for those familiar with poetry of the WW1 period, the images of rain and mud are probably the strongest ones.


The other thing I'm obsessed about, of course, is "Doctor Who" - the season finale is only 8 days away. Last week's episode (which I will review on my Spoiler Zone Blog at some point in the next two days) was called "Utopia", although there was no sign of Utopia in the episode, but it got me thinking about Utopia and Dystopia, and of course, then I went looking for some poetry, and found this:

Utopia

Island where all becomes clear.

Solid ground beneath your feet.

The only roads are those that offer access.

Bushes bend beneath the weight of proofs.

The Tree of Valid Supposition grows here
with branches disentangled since time immemorial.

The Tree of Understanding, dazzlingly straight and simple,
sprouts by the spring called Now I Get It.

The thicker the woods, the vaster the vista:
the Valley of Obviously.

You can read the rest of Wislawa Szymborska's poem here. I confess to being completely unfamiliar with Szymborska's work until Elaine of Wild Rose Reader and Blue Rose Girls posted "The Joy of Writing" for an April Poetry Friday offering. You can find a biography of this Polish poet here; Szymborska won the "Nobel Prize in Literature" in 1996 and you can read her Nobel Prize lecture here.


This week's poetry round-up is hosted by cloudscome of A Wrung Sponge.

PART I

For this Poetry Friday I have a poem that was written by one of my favorite adult poets, Wislawa Szymborska. Szymborska was the winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1996. The poem I selected to share is entitled The Joy of Writing. I felt it was a most appropriate poem choice for me at this time because I have committed myself to posting an original poem at Wild Rose Reader every day during National Poetry Month.


THE JOY OF WRITING
by Wislawa Szymborska

Why does this written doe bound through these written woods?
For a drink of written water from a spring
whose surface will xerox her soft muzzle?
Why does she lift her head; does she hear something?
Perched on four slim legs borrowed from the truth,
she pricks up her ears beneath my fingertips.
Silence - this word also rustles across the page
and parts the boughs
that have sprouted from the word "woods."

Lying in wait, set to pounce on the blank page,
are letters up to no good,
clutches of clauses so subordinate
they'll never let her get away.

Click here to read the rest of the poem.

Biography of Wislawa Szymborska

Szymborska’s Nobel Lecture: The Poet and the World. (If you like poetry, you will definitely want to read this lecture.)


PART II

Check out the following blogs during the month of April

GottaBook: Gregory K. is posting an original poem every day of April.

Poetry for Children: Sylvia Vardell has a bunch of super poetry posts for National Poetry Month.

A Wrung Sponge: Cloudscome has compiled a wonderful collection of original haiku poetry and gorgeous photographs that express the elemental beauty of nature.

PART III

Here are links to some of the original poems I have for you at Wild Rose Reader

• A Poem a Day #7: A Fairy Tale Poem
• A Poem a Day #8: A Limerick
• A Poem a Day #9: A Cinquain
• A Poem a Day #10: A Nursery Rhyme Parody
• A Poem a Day #11: An Acrostic Poem
• A Poem a Day #12: A Poem of Address
• A Poem a Day #13: Haiku
• Here’s the link to all the original poems I have posted at Wild Rose Reader.
  

PART IV

My Space: If you’d like to take a peek at the library/office where I keep all my children’s books and write my blogs and poems, check out my post Where I Work.