This morning I headed down to McGill University where the ceremony for Royal Canadian Legion’s Quebec Command Remembrance Day was being held.
The Remembrance Day Ceremony has been held at McGill for the last few years due to Place du Canada being “under renovation”. Despite there not being much sign that construction is underway (let alone started) authorities continue to hold the main Montreal ceremony at a temporary cenotaph errected at the southern end of the main campus of McGill next to the Roddick Gates entrance on Sherbrooke street.
Members of the Black Watch (Royal Highland Regiment) stood at the front of the cenotaph with other regiments, members of the Montreal police and fire services and other dignitaries lining each side of the playing field.
Fortunately the rain held off for the ceremony participants and large crowd of onlookers that lined the road and grass bank near the Redpath Museum.
In front of the Arts Building 4 cannons provided a 21-gun salute following the 2 minutes silence.
After the laying of wreaths, prayer and music provided by the pipe and brass bands, the participants marched down McGill College Avenue and along rue Sainte Catherine, returning to the Black Watch Regiment baracks on rue Bleury.
In Flanders Fields
I thought I would finish today’s post with the poem by Canadian physician and poet Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae who wrote “In Flanders Fields” on May 3rd 1915 in honor of his friend Lieutenant Alex Helme who had been killed during the Second Battle of Ypres the previous day.
McCrae is purported to have penned the poem in the back of an ambulance and then, being unsatisfied, discarded it but for it to be retrieved by fellow soldiers.
The poem was first published in Punch Magazine on December 8th 1915.
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.
Thanks for stopping by. Until next time.
– Martin
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