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...
‘In Flanders Fields by John
McCrae
It hasn’t been the easiest of weeks.
Things seem to have been coming from all directions. The shock of more
bombs in planes from the Yemen, bombs left in car parks in airports, the
spectre of profiling based on being a particular religion and the disruption of
yet more inexplicable checks for my safety when I try to fly anywhere.
The awfulness of innocent people trying to cope with volcanic eruptions
when they were too poor to go anywhere to escape the eruption - and the look on
the faces of people in Haiti as they waited to see whether they would be struck
yet again by natural disaster.
The War in Afghanistan and Iraq continues accusations of torture by British
troops and plots to use explosive filled dogs to blow up planes. It goes on and on…
In the midst of this was the launch of the Poppy Appeal by the British
Legion and a strange storm has broken out on whether crystal poppies were
suitable for Remembrance. The bizarre sight of ebay selling for hundreds of
pounds a poppy that is sold for under £10. Perhaps some of them are donating
their profits to the Poppy Appeal but I doubt it. Many veterans feel that the
vast range of merchandise in some way devalues and commercialises what is a
simple act of Remembrance. Others, that this is the only way to raise money in
these commercialised days. The British Legion has also expressed concern that
different groups are attempting to hijack the poppy to further their own aims.
And on the TV the sad sight of another coffin bringing home another
brave soldier who was prepared to die for us.
Against
this the backdrop of a preacher who calls himself Muslim saying that Muslims
should not wear poppies. Really?
I remember once being asked in the 1980’s why I was wearing a poppy when
‘none of my lot’ were involved. I mentioned my grandfather who volunteered in
WW1, my uncles in WWII and my cousin at the time in the RAF. However, the
incident emphasised to me the importance of ‘knowing where you have been so
that you can plan where you are going’. When discussions take place about
Remembrance Day and movies show only Hollywood being in the World Wars, it is
easy to forget the legacy of your personal heritage and feel alienated from it.
So it is worth remembering that nearly 600 000 Indian soldiers were in the
British Indian Army in WWI and that the largest majority of the volunteers were
Muslim men fighting for the rights and freedom for all that they believed in.
The British Indian Army was awarded 13 000 medals including 12 Victoria
Crosses.
Men such as:
Sepoy Khudadad: 129th Duke of Counaught's Own Baluchis. On
31st October, 1914, at Hollebeke, Belgium. The British Officer in charge of the
detachment having been wounded and the other gun put out of action by a shell,
Sepoy Khudadad, though himself wounded, remained working his gun until all the
other five men of the gun detachment had been killed. He was left by the enemy
for dead, but later managed to crawl away and rejoin his unit
Darwan Singh Negi: 39th
Garhwal Rifles. For great gallantry on the night of the 23–24
November, 1914, near Festubert, France, when the regiment was engaged in
retaking and clearing the enemy out of our trenches and, although wounded in
two places; in the head and also in the arm, being one of the first to push
round each successive traverse, in the face of severe fire from bombs and
rifles at the closest range
Mir Dast: 55th Coke's Rifles (Frontier Force). On 26 April 1915 at Wieltje, Belgium, Jemadar
Mir Dast led his platoon with great bravery during the attack, and afterwards
collected various parties of the regiment (when no British officers were left)
and kept them under his command until the retirement was ordered. He also
displayed great courage that day when he helped to carry eight British and
Indian officers to safety while exposed to heavy fire.
Badlu Singh: 14th
Murray's Jat Lancers. On 2 September 1918 on the west bank of the River
Jordan, Palestine, when his squadron was charging a strong enemy position,
Ressaidar Badlu Singh realised that heavy casualties were being inflicted from
a small hill occupied by machine-guns and 200 infantry. Without any hesitation
he collected six other ranks and with entire disregard of danger he charged and
captured the position. He was mortally wounded on the very top of the hill when
capturing one of the machine-guns single handed, but all the guns and infantry
had surrendered to him before he died.
I find it very touching in the midst of the carnage that went on and the
trauma afterwards, that extraordinary care that was taken over the burial of the soldiers.
When bodies were found, the religion of the soldier was checked from the pay
books and the religious rites that could be done for them were carried out. For
example for Muslim soldiers, a gravestone was substituted for the cross and
their gravestones angled to point East.
There is also the story of some injured
Hindu and Muslim soldiers who were evacuated to Brighton and housed in, amongst
other places, Brighton Pavilion. The Hindu soldiers who died were cremated and
their ashes scattered respectfully at sea to try and be as close to their
religious observance as possible.
Everyone who died in the First World War was more than just a soldier,
they were each a person – a brother, a son, a husband and a father. As I watch the coffins arrive back to the UK,
I remember that there will be families for whom there will always be someone
missing from every future family gathering.
Many of our soldiers return carrying physical and mental scars and they
will need help in dealing with this and trying to rebuild their lives. That is
after all where the money raised in the Appeals goes – to help people who were
willing to risk their lives and for the families who let their loved ones go,
not knowing whether they would return.
Sadly war often includes civilians and I remember them too. Nearly 7 million
civilians died in World War I and to date in Iraq and Afghanistan there have
been between 100 000 and 1 million deaths depending on which statistics you
choose.
All over
the world though, war continues to touch and tear up peoples lives from the
child soldiers in Liberia to the women who are the victim of mass rape in the
Congo – organisations such as the Medical Foundation for the Care of Victims of Torture
and Amnesty International do such great work in trying to help but surely at
some stage in our lives it is right to remember those that are still suffering
and ask where peace has gone in our world.
I care because it feels so personal that all those who fell fighting for
my freedom – for my freedom to walk down the street unharmed because of my
racial origin and my freedom to write this column. It helps me remember to live my life more
fully to honour them so that the ghosts of those who fell do not ask whether they
fought in vain.
The poem used in countries all over the worlds on Remembrance Day is as
fresh, painful and poignant now as it was on the day it was written:
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.
'For the Fallen' by Laurence Binyon (1869 - 1943)
I personally stand by the covenant that was made with them and all the
others of whatever faith and race who fought for freedom; and this year on the
11 hour of the 11 day of the 11 month:
