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Glesga Pals - support the poppy appeal
lest we forget

GlescaPals ...............the poppy      page1 page2
 
 
... as the webmaister of this website I am able to pay tribute to our armed forces ..I hope in some small way it helps keep their memory alive and brings some comfort to pals at home and faraway.

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They shall not grow old as we who 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.


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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 your 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 field.
                                   
   Lt.Col.John McCrae 1862-1918

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These words of the soldier-poet, John McCrae were written after the second bloody battle of Ypres.
The Scots-Canadian field surgeon wrote famous verses after witnessing the carnage that left half a million young men dead in one small corner of  Belgium during the First World War.
His words resonate through the generations and are as relevant today as they were when he penned them in 1915.  They are a fitting tribute to the brave British troops who have laid down their lives .... 

 

The average British soldier is 19 years old..he is a short haired, well built lad who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears and just old enough to buy a round of drinks but old enough to die for his country and for you. Hes not particularly keen on hard work but hed rather be grafting in Afghanistan than unemployed in the UK . He recently left comprehensive school where he was probably an average student, played some form of sport, drove a ten year old rust bucket, and knew a girl that either broke up with him when he left, or swore to be waiting when he returns home. He moves easily to rock and roll or hip-hop or to the rattle of a 7.62mm machine gun.

He is about a stone lighter than when he left home because he is working or fighting from dawn to dusk and well beyond. He has trouble spelling, so letter writing is a pain for him, but he can strip a rifle in 25 seconds and reassemble it in the dark. He can recite every detail of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either effectively if he has to. He digs trenches and toilets without the aid of machines and can apply first aid like a professional paramedic. He can march until he is told to stop, or stay dead still until he is told to move.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation but he is not without a rebellious spirit or a sense of personal dignity. He is confidently self-sufficient. He has two sets of uniform with him: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never forgets to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts. If you are thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food is your food. He'll even share his life-saving ammunition with you in the heat of a firefight if you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons and regards his weapon as an extension of his own hands. He can save your life or he can take it, because that is his job - it's what a soldier does. He often works twice as long and hard as a civilian, draw half the pay and have nowhere to spend it, and can still find black ironic humour in it all. There's an old saying in the British Army: 'If you can't take a joke, you shouldn't have joined!'

He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and he is unashamed to show it or admit it. He feels every bugle note of the 'Last Post' or 'Sunset' vibrate through his body while standing rigidly to attention. He's not afraid to 'Bollock' anyone who shows disrespect when the Regimental Colours are on display or the National Anthem is played; yet in an odd twist, he would defend anyone's right to be an individual. Just as with generations of young people before him, he is paying the price for our freedom. Clean shaven and baby faced he may be, but be prepared to defend yourself if you treat him like a kid.

He is the latest in a long thin line of British Fighting Men that have kept this country free for hundreds of years. He asks for nothing from us except our respect, friendship and understanding. We may not like what he does, but sometimes he doesn't like it either - he just has it to do.. remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

And now we even have brave young women putting themselves in harm's way, doing their part in this tradition of going to war when our nation's politicians call on us to do so.
.....please stop for a moment and if you are so inclined, feel free to say a prayer for our troops in the trouble spots of the world. 
 

 

Poppy Scotland

Royal British Legion
Scottish
website

 


the poppy 
page1   page2


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 photographs from GlescaPals

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 oor Forces index :

     

Pages

2

3

4

 

Various Photos

 

Pages

5

5a

5b

5c

Highland Light Infantry

Pages

6

 

 

 

Gallipoli

 

Pages

7

7a

7b

 

Cameronians

Pages 8 8b     Navy   Pages 9       Various Photos
Pages 10       Royal Irish Rifles   Poppy       Poppy Day Remembered
              Haggis Hg       A Poem

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