We visited the poppy memorial in London late last summer and it was truly awe inspiring even though it was only about half complete. Now it’s is breathtaking and really does focus the mind on the sacrifice these young men made. Each poppy signifies a life lost.
My Uncle Frank fought in France in WW1 and thankfully survived. When I was old enough to understand he told me of his war and how four men had held his leg together after being hit by a shell and saved his life. He showed me his pay book which had been in his pocket. It was stuck together, soaked through with his blood and you couldn’t open it. I don’t know who those other soldiers were but I hope they made it, they let me meet one of the kindest gentlemen it has been my privilege to know.
I have bought one of these poppies to remember them and thousands like them.