—Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Breakfast of Champions
Operation AXIOM: The 104th Anniversary of the Armistice of Compiègne
One hundred four years ago to the day, 11 November 1918, "at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month," the guns fell silent on the Western Front. The "War to End All Wars" was over. Tens of millions were dead. Empires lay in ruins. Revolution was in the air. The world that had existed before the summer of 1914 was shattered utterly, torn asunder by unfathomable bloodshed.
The world had never seen madness as red as the World War; pray to the Almighty that we shall not see madness so red in our own lifetime. A century later, only the ignorant &/or the foolish would say we do not live in a world yet scarred by 1914-1918, haunted by the ghost of a war most of us prefer to pretend never happened. Western civilization barely survived the suicide attempt of 1914-1918, & might yet succumb to the wound. It all ended—in triumph, in defeat, in exhaustion, in jubilation—on 11 November 1918, one hundred four years ago today.
"War's Cataract, 1915"
by Herbert Asquith (1881-1947)
In this red havoc of the patient earth,
Though higher yet the tide of battle rise,
Now has the hero cast away disguise,
And out of ruin splendour comes to birth.
This is the field where Death and Honour meet,
And all the lesser company are low:
Pale Loveliness has left her mirror now
And walks the Court of Pain with silent feet.
From cliff to cliff War's cataract goes down,
Hurling its booming waters to the shock;
And tossing high their manes of gleaming spray
The crested chargers leap from rock to rock,
While over all, dark though the thunder frown,
The rainbows climb above to meet the day.
"Killed in Action"
by Isaac Rosenberg (1890-1918)
Your Youth has fallen from its shelf,
And you have fallen, you yourself.
They knocked a soldier on the head,
I mourn the poet who fell dead.
And yet I think it was by chance,
By oversight you died in France.
You were so poor an outward man,
So small against your spirit's span,
That Nature, being tired awhile,
Saw but your outward human pile;
And Nature, who would never let
A sun with light still in it set,
Before you even reached your sky,
In inadvertence let you die.
Commentary: Isaac Rosenberg was himself killed in action on 1 April 1918, during the Germans' spring offense.
The Wayback Machine Tour of Armistice Day: Lest We Forget
Armistice Day '21 + Armistice Day '20 + Armistice Day '18 + Armistice Day '17
Armistice Day '16 + Armistice Day '15 + Armistice Day '14 + Armistice Day '13
Armistice Day '12 + Armistice Day '11 + Armistice Day '10 + Armistice Day '09
Armistice Day '08 + Armistice Day '07 + Armistice Day '06 + Armistice Day '05
Armistice Day '04 + Armistice Day '03 + Armistice Day '02
The Explorers' Club № DCLVI: 11 November 1918—The Armistice
The Explorers' Club № DCCXVI: 11 November 1919—The First Armistice Day
The Explorers' Club № DCCLXXXIII: 11 November 1920—The Second Armistice Day
The Explorers' Club № DCCCLVII: 11 November 1921—The Third Armistice Day
The Rebel Black Dot Song o' Armistice Day
Ivor Gurney, "Severn Meadows" from The Pity of War: Songs & Poems of Wartime Suffering (Mike Papa Whiskey)
Lest we forget.
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