Remebrance Day

It's too late for Europe (and for that I sincerely apologise), but it will soon be 11am throughout North America. Despite what any one person may think about warfare, or any particular war in general (and trust me, I'm not pro-war by any means), the simple fact is that men and women have died in the line of duty within our lifetimes. This same theme links us very directly to the "games we play" on EB, the confused and tragic struggle of man to both defeat and accept himself. The wondrous complexity of EB allows us to "role-play" our factions, and to feel a hint of what it really must be like to struggle for one's very existence. This powerful pathos is, directly or indirectly, a major part of EB's motivation and appeal.

This simple fact is sobering, and beyond the depth of thought and heated debates it may spark, it is a simple and profound act to offer our thoughts and sympathies to those who have passed on, or who have otherwise sacrificed themselves in the hopes that we all may live a better life.

And to those of you who might currently be in dangerous areas or situations, friend or foe, we are thinking of you, and we will always remember.

Further, I invite you all to post your inspiring war stories, favourite war movies, or other thoughts on this hopeful but melancholy day, whether your nation follows the holiday or not. I would consider it a personal favour to you all if this thread were to remain staid and solemn, although I'm in no real position to demand anything.

I have a glass of gin in hand (one of the many gifts the Brits shared with us Canadians during the World Wars), and I have three films ready to watch: The Dirty Dozen, The Devil's Brigade, and the History Channel's special on the Raid on Dieppe.

As a Canadian, I feel compelled to post the National Poem of Remebrance Day, "In Flanders Fields" by John McRae:

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.

— Lt.-Col. John McCrae

To all the men who came before us.

*drinks his gin*

-Glee

That Owen would draw upon the (arguably) most beautiful Roman poet of the Golden Age, and transform Horace's sentiment into something so beautiful and tragic, shows both Owen's genius and the immense pressure and unimaginable pain that so many went through in the Great War. So...here it is...

DULCE ET DECORUM EST

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

My birthday is August 19th, I consider myself Canadian despite being born in Ireland. So the Dieppe Raid has a... well a certain connection with me.

We should take a moment to sit, and reflect on the freedoms we have because of the millions who gave their lives and sacrificed their youth so that billions may live in peace. Though it was and probably never will be ever lasting peace, we should still thank the Veterans of all wars on all sides. Even the German's who fought in WW2 should be remembered, for they were unaware of their head of state's true ambition and reason, and they served for their nation, not their leader.

Though they deny it, the surviving veterans are true heroes, aswell as the fallen. All soldiers on all sides, of all conflicts are heroes[1].

Give thanks. You owe EVERYTHING to those men.
I personally owe my life to the French resistance, for if they did not pull my gramps out of his burning wrecked spitfire, and got him back across the channel, he would have died, and I would never have existed.

Remember, lest we forget. In your prime you might be called to make the ultimate sacrifice too.

To the Pilots, to the Soldiers, to the Sailors, Submariners, and to the glorious fallen. Thankyou.

Well, how do you do, Private William McBride,
Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside?
And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916,
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fir o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And, though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart are you forever 19?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?

The sun's shining down on these green fields of France;
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance.
The trenches have vanished long under the plow;
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard that's still No Man's Land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man.
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned.

And I can't help but wonder, no Willie McBride,
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you "The Cause?"
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain,
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again.

I'd also like to end with a quote... "Never was so much owed by so many to so few."

[1] the SS and other murdering bastards are not heroes.

awesome poem Celtic Punk.

General Aetius

Let's remember all those rave men who fought in the great ar and have given their lives.

I live in a country which hasn't seen a war for quite some time, but I still thought I'd contribute with a poem.
It's in Swedish, so most of you might not understand a word, but I don't think it would be the same translated.
At any rate, I think it captures some of what this is all about:

Försvunnen var en blodig dag,
Det var på Lemos strand,
De slagnas sista andedrag
Ren tystnat efter hand;
Det mörknade kring land och hav
Och lugn var natten som en grav.

Vid brädden av den dunkla våg,
Som skådat dagens strid,
En gammal krigare man såg,
En man från Hoglands tid;
Hans panna låg mot handen stödd,
Hans kind var blek, hans barm förblödd.

Ej kom en vän, som kunde få
Hans sista avskedsord,
Ej var den jord, han blödde på,
En älskad fosterjord.
Hans hembygd Volgas bölja skar;
En hatad främling här han var.

Hans öga lyftes opp ibland,
Fast slocknande och matt.
På samma slätt, på samma sand,
Helt nära där han satt,
En halvt förstelnad yngling låg;
Han såg på honom, när han såg.

När kulan ven, när striden brann,
När bådas blod rann varm,
Med vredens eld de mött varann
Och prövat svärd och arm.
Nu sökte ej den unge strid,
Nu höll den gamle kämpen frid.

Men natten skrider mer och mer,
Man hör ett årslags sus,
Och månen går ur moln och ger
Den hemska nejden ljus;
Då syns en julle tätt vid strand,
En ensam flicka ror i land.

En fridlös vålnad lik, hon steg
I spår, där döden gått.
Hon gick från lik till lik och teg,
Hon tycktes gråta blott.
Med häpnad hennes tysta tåg
Den gamle, väckt ur dvalan, såg.

Dock mera milt med var minut,
För varje steg hon tog,
Och mera tankfullt än förut
Hans sorgsna öga log.
En aning grep hans hjärta visst,
Han tycktes veta, vad hon mist.

Han tycktes vänta: och hon kom,
Som om ett bud hon hört,
Så tyst, så lugnt, så visst, som om
En ande henne fört.
Hon kom. Vid nattens bleka sken
Hon såg den fallne svensken ren.

Hon såg, och ropte högt hans namn,
Det kom ej svar igen;
Hon sjönk emot hans öppna famn,
Men slöts ej mer av den.
Hans genomstungna bröst var kallt,
Och stumt var allt, förvissnat allt.

Då, säger sångmön, föll en tår
Uppå den gamles kind,
Då talte han ett ord, vars spår
Försvann i nattens vind,
Då stod han upp, ett steg han tog
Och hann till flickans fot och dog.

Vad sade väl hans sorgsna blick,
Hans ord, ej tydda än?
Den tår, som ur hans öga gick,
Vad mening låg i den?
Och när till flickans fot han hann
Och föll och dog, vad tänkte han?

Var det för hjärtats frid kanske,
Han höjde än sin röst?
Var det en bön, han ville be
Till ett försonligt bröst?
Begrät han mänskans hårda lott
Att plåga och att plågas blott?

Han kom från ett fientligt land,
En oväns svärd han bar;
Dock fatta, broder, rörd hans hand,
Och minns ej, vad han var;
O, blott på livet hämnden ser,
Vid graven hatar ingen mer.

and to this day humans are still bickering amongst one other...

I as a Flemish would like to thank all those who fought for our freedom on our soil and beyond
I also dedicate this post to august ,the brother of my great-grandmother who died a week before the armistice
there are still folks thinking of you old chap, rest in peace

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mithridates VI Eupator

I live in a country which hasn't seen a war for quite some time,

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The happiest phrase I have seen for some time. Long may it continue to be so.

'Tis my birthday.

Here's an article for you to peruse: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27646518/?GT1=43001

And this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fc56moy0poA

Mithridates VI Eupator, that is a great poem indeed. My Swedish isn't that good, but it takes only a moment to realise it's subject matter and author. You couldn't have picked a better one.

A fine, fine post Gleemonex.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity, so to speak, to say a few words.

Fortunately Portugal's youth haven't had to endure a major war for 34 years besides small operations in Bosnia, Kosovo, East Timor, Iraq and Afghanistan. 'Tis one of the most shameful signs of our times that so few recognize or learn about the sacrifices made by our (fore)fathers as well as the men who defend, on this very day, the good name and what little honour still exists in our country - your leaders do not deserve you.

I haven't famous quotes, no poems from John McCrae or Robert Graves, or great anthems and for that I am sorry. However, the important thing, I feel, is to remember...and what I do have, is a youtube link for a 1969 popular song that, I believe, speaks to the hearts of fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers and sisters that had to live with the horrible spectre of the colonial wars, and truly one of the very few that can draw a tear from me. Hopefully it still has meaning today, and to other nationalities....

https://img396.imageshack.us/img396/...858b610kp0.jpg

Young soldier aboard a ship bound for the colonies, 1972

Menina dos Olhos Tristes by Adriano Correia de Oliveira

Menina dos olhos tristes
o que tanto a faz chorar
o soldadinho não volta
do outro lado do mar

Vamos senhor pensativo
olhe o cachimbo a apagar
o soldadinho não volta
do outro lado do mar

Senhora de olhos cansados
porque a fatiga o tear
o soldadinho não volta
do outro lado do mar

Anda bem triste um amigo
uma carta o fez chorar
o soldadinho não volta
do outro lado do mar

A lua que é viajante
é que nos pode informar
o soldadinho já volta
está mesmo quase a chegar

Vem numa caixa de pinho
do outro lado do mar
desta vez o soldadinho
nunca mais se faz ao mar


https://img89.imageshack.us/img89/6161/cepgq6.jpg

A Portuguese soldier kisses her fiancée goodbye before leaving for France, 1917

To all soldiers away from home on this St.Martin's day, may you return quickly and safe.

Sarc.

I have a family story of war, and while I understand that it will seem far fetched please believe when I say that I make nothing of this up, and that I wholeheartedly believe my mother that this is true.
She always had a keen interest in our family's history, and war was no exception, so I take everything I have typed for you guys as the truth, even if it seems ridiculous.


One of my relatives, a great great uncle i believe, was an Italian soldier in the second world war stationed in the Aegean and was captured by the Germans after the armistice was signed with the allies. The Germans were ruthless with most of the Italians they captured and my great great uncle's unit was to be executed.

As a German officer went down the line he picked one in three men to be shot, but luckily not my great great uncle. After these poor men were shot down he came over to my relative and noted his blue eyes and fair features. My relative responded he was from Trentino, and due to it once being part of Austria the officer decided he would count him out of the execution (I assume the officer was an Austrian, although I can't say it makes me feel proud) but it couldn't stop the inevitable, and sooner or later my relative was back on the firing line with more Italians.

And this is where I have to commend one single soul out of the firing squad. We never knew who it was, where they were from or why they did it, but, by some stroke of grace, a soldier on the firing squad missed my relative, who feigned death. Out of all the acts of kindness possible, I think this was the most sincere and appropriate one the soldier could have done, and, wherever he or his family are now, I honestly thank them from the bottom of my heart.

As mentioned, my relative wasn't hit, and instead feigned death. The corpses were simply thrown down a Greek well and left to rot, and had it not been for some respectful Greeks taking out the bodies to be buried I honestly think my relative never would have made it out alive. The Greeks gave him shelter and food until the war was over and he returned to Italy, completely shaken from his ordeal. Again, I thank all of these people, as their acts required bravery beyond measure; to take in an Italian POW on a German occupied island risked all of their lives, but they did it nonetheless. Thank you

My mum recalled that, as a little girl she would notice him randomly twitch or suddenly seem overcome with sadness, especially if she asked him about his youth. It was only when he passed away that someone explained it to her, and I was lucky enough to find out about it from her.

And that's the story one of my relatives. On a similar note my mother has an Italian book which I believe is called "Scritture di guerra" which I think translates as Stories of War, and a chapter of it concerns a relative of mine, Valentino Maestranzi. I'm not sure if this was the mentioned relative, but the word "Siberiano" pops up now and then, and I take this to mean Siberia, so I assume he was another soldier in the family, presumably captured and sent off to Siberia. What happened to him I'm not sure, but I'll be sure to find out and tell you lot if you would like to know.

R.I.P

Most interesting post, Recoil!

My great-grandparents, all of whom fought in WWII with the Soviet Army weren't so lucky. Out of eight of them, three died at the hands of the damn Nazis. One of them was in an artillery unit, in charge of delivering ammunition. A German shell hit his truck (full of artillery ammo) and well, that was the last of him... Another was in an encircled unit in Belorussia. No record of him after that... The last was in an infantry unit, and died while fighting in Germany. Two of the survivors actually fought in the Siege of Berlin, and were lucky to survive that bloodbath. My grandparents still have the trophies that the two brought from the sack of that infernal city.

I also remember how one of my grandparents, who actually lived in Moldova at the time of WWII, was talking about how his best friend (who was Jewish) and his family was taken by the Nazis. My grandfather actually followed (secretly) the soldiers as they took his friend away and watched from a tree he climbed to hide on as his friend was being executed. The Germans did not want to dirty their hands so they made the soldiers from the Romanian units do the killing. The family of that 11 year old Jewish boy was instantly shot and killed, but the boy himself had his arm blown off and was bleeding profusely. He ran and screamed for a few minutes (odd too, since the blood loss, shock and sheer pain should have made him faint) until a German soldier finally caught him with a rifle butt in the face. My grandfather was 10 at that time.

Wow, quite a few stories there Aemilius, its good to hear that some of your family managed to come out alive though.
it's amazing to think that all of this happened only in the last century and, these days, a German can freely travel to England, France, Italy and Russia without much hassle (admittedly I can't honestly say I'm sure about the Russia bit, having never been there) it really shows how much people have just wanted to live together and get on as well as possible, which, to me, is the only good thing war brings- it can ironically bring us together, but even then, its a one in a million chance. lets hope humanity's luck doesnt wear thin.

Nothing would work better in bringing us together than a direct threat to the survival of the whole species.

And we haven't run into one of those...yet. (I'm being serious btw)

Few war stories in my family as I am swedish. My grand-grandpa fled from Norway to Sweden during the WW2. But I dont know why. I am also half finish so maybe there are some WW2 stories I am not aware about.

IMHO:
People romanticises the lives of soldiers too much. Not that we shouldnt honour them, but far too often do people join the armies of the world looking for honour and glory. Usually they get none.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Lovejoy

People romanticises the lives of soldiers too much. Not that we shouldnt honour them, but far too often do people join the armies of the world looking for honour and glory. Usually they get none.

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How true. There is absolutely nothing glorious about today's warfare. I recently read an excellent book on warfare and how the US Armed forces work, and found out that the US Army will do just about anything to get recruits for the poor bloody infantry. The amount of propaganda they use to entice young men to join the armed forces is overwhelming, and most of the stuff they use is pretty crude, including the "romanticism"/glorification of warfare, patriotism, or how "cool" it is to be a soldier. Rubbish if you ask me. That same book also said that in a month of modern warfare, a unit will receive 90% casualties. How glorious to see your comrades ripped apart into bloody confetti. Truly a sight to behold. *voice dripping with sarcasm/sardonic*

Thats a pretty sobering first picture Sarcasm... I guess supposed to be a kid on his way to falklands... most meaningless war ever... young lads died for a power hungry woman.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Celtic_Punk

Thats a pretty sobering first picture Sarcasm... I guess supposed to be a kid on his way to falklands... most meaningless war ever... young lads died for a power hungry woman.

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Not really the place for that.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Celtic_Punk

Thats a pretty sobering first picture Sarcasm... I guess supposed to be a kid on his way to falklands... most meaningless war ever... young lads died for a power hungry woman.

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The Falklands were in 1982 - ten years after that picture, and the quality of civilian leadership does not lessen a soldier's sacrifice to his or her country. The loss of men in the service of a brutal dictator or an incompetent but well meaning minister is equal to those who die serving a brilliant government that wins its wars... We are all people after all.
To any fellow American veterans - raise a toast or say a prayer for those who are gone in our GWOT, and as well to those who fought in previous generations. Ultimately, history is unkind to war (WWI, whose end we mark today was perhaps "meaningless" after the fact, although at the time...) so it is better to remember our lost friends as idyllic patriotic hero's rather than as pawns of despots - and that is what this day is for.

Anyone interested in the grittiness of world war 2 should have a look at With the Old Breed, an EXCELLENT book, that is rather easy on the reader.

About the whole propaganda thing of the U.S., well me being one that wanted to join but could not because of health problems.....yes.....there is an immense amount of propaganda that goes into getting people to join.

I had a notion of tax free cash and payed college after serving my 8, but in reality its about less than a minimum wage, and only provides enough cash for 2 years of college. The rest is attained in loans and what not....

Although some of you can bad mouth the U.S. in its motives and reasons (hell I'll even agree to many of them with you), please don't bad mouth the sacrifice a person is doing in going to war. The ordeal in itself is something that should not be looked down upon, for fighting for a country is something not everybody has mental strength to do so on their own.

As some of you may know, I currently live in China (which has its own set of holidays, obviously), so I didn't feel much of the communal sympathy and hopeful conviviality I was used to seeing around me on the 11th of the 11th of the 11th in Canada. Thank you all for sharing your thoughts and stories.

zooeyglass, Celtic_Punk, Mithridates VI Eupator: Thank you for sharing those war poems.

Being in Shanghai, I feel that I need to share one more poem: this one by a Shanghai-born American who enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1941. On first reading, the poem is quite hopeful.

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor even eagle flew—
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

-Pilot Officer John G. Magee Jr.

Magee died in a mid-air collision mere weeks after writing this poem.

desert, Sarcasm: Thank you for sharing those war ballads.

And Sarcasm, you certainly have no reason to apologise! Thank you for posting the lyrics -- my French, my intermediate Spanish and the typed lyrics allowed me to soak in the song on first hearing. Very touching.

Every Remembrance day, I used to go to the pub after the parade, and listen to folk songs while drinking Guinness. I'm currently learning the guitar, and among the war ballads I hope to be able to play "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda", and now "Menina dos Olhos Tristes". I'll consult you to correct my pronunciation when I get there ;)

Speaking of war songs, here's a Canadian sea shanty by Stan Rogers:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vL8EwN4dsv4

Celtic_Punk, theoldbelgian, desert, Recoil, Aemilius Paulus: Thank you for sharing your personal stories.

I had the occasion to meet a WWII veteran one Remembrance Day. He looked like he'd lived several centuries of heavy-heartedness. Despite putting on a good cheer for the sake of the crowd, he quickly sank into a solemn, pensive look. All I could do was listen and shake his hand as he rhymed off old names and urgings to appreciate our friends while they're here.

johnhughthom: Although I don't think there was too much harm in the C_P's comment (considering his earlier contribution), thank you so much for remaining vigilant and respectful on this day.

General Aetius, Karo, satalexton, Maeran, Zeibek, Lovejoy, Irishmafia2020, DaCrAzYmOfO: Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

-Glee

This song is sad but as a soldier it means a lot, only someone who served can really know what this song means.

I once had a comrade,
you won't find a better one.
The drum was rolling for battle,
he was marching at my side
|: in the same pace and stride. :|

A bullet flew towards us
for him or meant for me?
It did tear him away,
he lies beneath my feet
|: like it was a piece of me. :|

´wants to reach his hand to me,
while I reload my gun.
"Can't give you my hand for now,
you rest in eternal life
|: My good comrade!" :|

Ludwig Uhland

As a reservist I probably have a bit more understanding than most, but all my training is no replacement... I've lost friends in Afghanistan, and the ones that return who have seen the unthinkable, left as boys, and returned as men. Men who carry a weight on their shoulders none of us can understand.

EDIT: I forgot to mention that poem is an old Celtic song called The Green Fields of France

I'll throw another beautiful song in here, Sgt. MacKenzie, a scottish soldier in the trenches. His buddy shot dead at his feet, stood his ground and fought to the death, finally being bayonetted to death...
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

When they come a wull staun ma groon
Staun ma groon al nae be afraid

Thoughts awe hame tak awa ma fear
Sweat an bluid hide ma veil awe tears

Ains a year say a prayer faur me
Close yir een an remember me

Nair mair shall a see the sun
For a fell tae a Germans gun

Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone
Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone

When they come I will stand my ground
Stand my ground I'll not be afraid

Thoughts of home take away my fear
Sweat and blood hide my veil of tears

Once a year say a prayer for me
Close your eyes and remember me

Never more shall I see the sun
For I fell to a German's gun

Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone
Lay me down in the cold cold ground
Where before many more have gone
Where before many more have gone

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xq3a_7242Lc
listen to it to get the full haunting drone of the music. Its quite powerful.

I swear if we don't stop fighting amongst ourselves and get along, we'll be easy pickings for alien invaders. D=

This is not the thread for joking around, mate.

There will be no need for alien invaders. We'll collectively destroy the Earth if we're not pulling together to reduce consumption, birth rates and taxing the environment. I don't see that happening, it's in our nature to exploit resources with a short perspective.

No direct threat to our survival indeed. Indirect threats obviously won't cut it.

Anybody know why they were so fixated on signing it on 11/11, 11:11?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by polluxlm

Anybody know why they were so fixated on signing it on 11/11, 11:11?

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It's not 11:11, but close. The Armistice of Compiègne was signed on the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, at 11:00am.

Remembrance Day

-Glee