My grandfather and grandmother met in France. The year was 1917. They served together in a frontline hospital for the Royal Canadian Medical Expedition. Neither had much use for God after witnessing the carnage of trench warfare. 90 years ago they were sitting along the Marne for the Armstice. It was signed at 5am, but didn't take effect, until the 11th second of the 11th minute of the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. Up to that moment the guns along the Western Front unloosed their last cannonade. The 11th second came and went without any abatement in the fury. Soldiers on both sides still had ammo and they weren't taking it home from 'over there'.
It is estimated that over 10,000 men were killed or wounded between 5am and 11am.
The last casualty is reputed to be a Canadian, Private George Lawrence Price.
He was struck in the chest by a German sniper at 10:58am.
One of the 60,000 dead from the Great North.
Pacem in Terrem.
I asked a number of New Yorker about Armstice Day. It's a national holiday. Out of twenty only two could say why they had a day off from work.
"As you get old, you forget. As you get older you are forgotten."
No comments:
Post a Comment