Today marks the 100th anniversary of our troops arriving in Gallipoli and our Nation will stop and honour all those brave women and men who so gallantly took a stand for our freedom. Thank you.

Today is a day to remember, to remember all the sacrifices others have made for us so we can live freely as we do. Its easy to go through our day to day lives and take this for granted and get caught up in the small things but days like today give us the opportunity to stop, reflect, honour and feel gratitude for all those who have paved the way for us.

I reflect on the conditions those courageous soldiers had to face and deal with, I reflect on the mothers and fathers who had to let their sons go, a thought that is so unbearable for me to comprehend as a mother of 2 young men.

Today I carry in my heart deep feelings of remorse that war happened at all and a feeling of gratitude and compassion for all who suffer because of it. I also give thanks for my family and all the blessings I have because I live at this time in freedom.  Lest we Forget.

Dedicated to all the Mothers of past and current soldiers

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables at home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Binyon (1869–1943)


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