Editor’s Note: The following was written by Paul Doyle, a friend of Bill Brett’s and this page, who lives in Weymouth and currently recuperating from back surgery. We offer these words to mark Veterans Day, November 11, which was started as “Armistice Day,” in 1919, the first anniversary of World War I. In 1926, the US Congress passed a resolution for an annual observance, and Nov. 11 became a national holiday beginning in 1938.
By Paul Doyle
Eleven, eleven, eleven nineteen eighteen
Signaled the end of the war, which was grossly obscene
Millions of young men, suffered and died
For the ego of generals, who strutted and lied
To think that this war, was set off by a Serb
Named Gavrilo Princip, who kept up his nerve
By shooting the Archduke,as part of a pact
While the other assassins, failed to act
Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Austrian Archduke
Was heir to the throne, some thought it a fluke
His assassination in Sarajevo, lit the fire of war
For actions against Serbia, and then much more
After much posturing, among several nations
Austria declared war, severing diplomatic relations
Then Russia proclaimed a warlike action
Against Austria-Hungary, producing a chain reaction
Then Germany entered ,by invading France
As Britain joined in, by taking a stance
Soon all of Europe,broke out their guns
It was nineteen fourteen, the war had begun
Charge out of your trenches, the poor men were told
And whatever you do, you better not fold
Attack the enemy through gas, and reinforced barbed wire
Artillery and explosions, and machine gun fire
The trenches were mud-filled, loaded with rats
Who made a meal of dead bodies, of those not coming back
But for those who did, many thousands in all
Were never the same, after answering the call
From Ypres to the Somme, and onto Verdun
To gain useless yardage, to pick up a crumb
While all these scared soldiers, fighting out in the field
Were ordered by command staff; no surrender, no yield
For all of the battles, what was the goal
Besides losing limbs, shell shock took its toll
It took many years later, to describe this condition
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the road to perdition
So finally in November, of nineteen eighteen
The belligerents met, no longer a dream
The Germans were told, what were the conditions
These terms were a shock, none of their volition
On November eleven, at five in the morning
The Armistice was signed, to end all the warring
The fighting was to end at eleven o’clock
But the reports which came after, caused quite a shock
For it was later learned, with terrible dread
That eleven thousand more, were missing, wounded or dead
For many cowardly officers, seeking battlefront promotions
Rounded up all their men, and sent them in motion
During a post war investigation, a question was asked
Who sent these men, and what was their task
And how many generals, died on that day?
And how many officers entered the fray?
These questions were posed, primarily rhetorical
Knowing the answers, would make your blood boil
For it was the poor lowly soldiers, who most died in vain
And to their loving families, what can you explain
So let’s not forget, Belleau Wood and the Somme
Gallipoli, Flanders, Ypres and Verdun
For the men who died here, may their souls be with God
While their bodies lay here, becoming one with the sod
