—Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Breakfast of Champions
Operation AXIOM: The 108th Anniversary of the Armistice of Compiègne
One hundred eight 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 eight years ago today.
"The Peacemaker"Commentary: Sergeant Alfred Joyce Kilmer was killed in action on 30 July 1918 (Wayback Machine).
by Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)
Upon his will he binds a radiant chain,
For Freedom's sake he is no longer free.
It is his task, the slave of Liberty,
With his own blood to wipe away a stain.
That pain may cease, he yields his flesh to pain
To banish war, he must a warrior be.
He dwells in Night, eternal Dawn to see,
And gladly dies, abundant life to gain.
What matters Death, if Freedom be not dead?
No flags are fair, if Freedom's flag be furled.
Who fights for Freedom, goes with joyful tread
To meet the fires of Hell against him hurled,
And has for captain Him whose thorn-wreathed head
Smiles from the Cross upon a conquered world.
"France"Commentary: Private Cecil Chesterton died in a military hospital on 6 December 1918.
by Cecil Chesterton (1879-1918)
Because or once the sword broke in her hand,
The words she spoke seemed perished for a space;
All wrong was brazen, and in every land
The tyrants walked abroad with naked face.
The waters turned to blood, as rose the Star
Of evil fate denying all release.
The rulers smote, the feeble crying "War!"
The usurers robbed, the naked crying "Peace!"
And her own feet were caught in nets of gold,
And her own soul profaned by sects that squirm,
And little men climbed her high seats and sold
Her honour to the vulture and the worm.
And she seemed broken and they thought her dead,
The Over-Men, so brave against the weak.
Has your last word of sophistry been said,
O cult of slaves? Then it is hers to speak.
Clear the slow mists from her half-darkened eyes,
As slow mists parted over Valmy fell,
And once again her hands in high surprise
Take hold upon the battlements of Hell.
The Wayback Machine Tour of Armistice Day: Lest We Forget
Armistice Day '25 + Armistice Day '24 + Armistice Day '23
Armistice Day '22 + 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
Walt Whitman & Kurt Weill, "Dirge for Two Veterans" from The Pity of War: Songs and Poems of Wartime Suffering (Mike Papa Whiskey)
Commentary: An 1865 poem by Walt Whitman (1819-1892) about the American Civil War set to music by Kurt Weill (1900-1950). I do not know the names of the singer nor the pianist on this recording.
Lest we forget.
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