Dulce et decorum est . . .

Itidem, dulce et decorum est pro patria vivere.

My maternal grandfather survived Passchendaele, thereby making my mother possible.

My father survived World War II by enlisting in the Royal Canadian Navy and, through no effort of his own, being absurdly stationed in Winnipeg until war’s end, thereby making me possible.

My friend Angus enlisted in the Loyal Eddies and survived the Invasion of Sicily and the Battle of Ortona, thereby making my time as a young Canadian student in Southern Italy a much more pleasant and meaningful memory.

With great respect to Horace, whose poetry I have read, admired and loved for three decades now, and with the utmost regard, gratitude and respect for those who have made the sacrifice, particularly my grandfather’s buddies in the trenches, my father’s school chums who got sent somewhere messier than Winnipeg, and Angus’s comrade, whose lifeless body Angus dug out of Ortona’s rubble . . .

it is very sweet and very honourable to live for your country.

2 comments on “Dulce et decorum est . . .

  1. barnswell says:

    Not to forget amare which is the foundation…at least it has to be for me.

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