1938-11-11 — Page 6

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THE HONGKONG TELEGRAPH, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 1 1, 1936.

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The

the

Hongkong Telegraph.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1938.

NOVEMBER 11

November the Eleventh. Once again the British people live in the day which, above all others in the year, is shadowed by history and subdues the mind of the living with the glorious and solemn memories of the dend.

His Majesty the King will salute in silence before the Cenotaph in London at 7 o'clock to-night, eight hours after our Governor, in reverent silence, did likewise in Hongkong. The King is the third Sovereign to keep the Royal covenant with the fallen-that uncounted host who saved from defeat and des- truction the wide Empire at the head of which, so significantly, he stands to-day.

Ltd. by twenty years ago.

S. Moutrie & Co., Ltd.

YORK BUILDING

CHATER ROAD.

HONG KONG SINGERS.

ARMISTICE DAY CONCERT

(Under the distinguished patronage of H. E. Sir Geoffry Northcote, K.C.M.G.)

in

ST. JOHN'S CATHEDRAL

at

9.15.

p.m.

FOR THE FALLEN (Elgar)

ORGAN SOLO

REQUIEM (Brahms)

Collection in aid of St. Dunstans.

COUNT

THE

"TELEGRAPHS”

EVERYWHERE

"The unimaginable touch of time" slowly softens the grief of those who sorrowed so bitter- Yet if we who are left can gaze buck with less heaviness and hurt, grati- tude reigns still, a thankfulness and gratitude which can never bo dethroned.

AT

-by Will Duron, T eleven o'clock this moni- ing a Voice broadcast to the World. We are very busy in our various waya-well- meaning, puzzled, pleasure- seeking, misecrable, cruel, piti- fully arrogant, We can afford to listen to the Voice once a year, and then give it precisely Two Minutes. The Unknown Warrior must make the most of his time.

་

Some of us think we know him, and build up familiar fea- tures behind his blank mask. We hear him say private things "Hullo,-dad.. hullo, mum hulio, sweetheart... hullo, old man, still grousing?" That is why some of us catch our breath to-day. That is why, at eleven o'clock, those silly tears sting our eyes.

He turns

to speak to the World. He says.Well, Com- rades... " There

dead silence. Then he laughs; and if, at that, our prejudices and hatreds are not shattered intu dirty little bits to be swept away, there is even less hope for I than before.

Good Lord deliver us "from all blindness of heart: from pride, vatn-glory, and hypocrisy: from envy, hatred, and malice, and all unchurit- ableness... from battic and murder, and from sudden death ... from hardness of heart and contempt of Thy Word and Commandment.

Have these magnificent words of the Anglican Litany no mean- ing to-day? Which comes most nearly to the aspirations of the World the crash of boots marching across frontiers, or "Good Lord deliver us "?

SILENCE

FOR THE

UNKNOWN

WARRIOR

by F. G. H. Salusbury

themselves and your survivors. It is a queer Illusion that all shall be there to share the fruits of victory. We had it in the Just Great War.

For the hundreds who thought," Well, I'm for it this time: I shan't come out of this show!" there were millions who were convinced they would sur- vive: nothing-bar a wound, a nice "blighty" one could happen to them.

There were all those letters hame, especially the intimate ones in green envelopes," all on the same lines:--

"So cheer up, dear, and don't worry about me. We're having a nice rest now. There's a little river here; we had a swim yes- Your terday, and I feel finc. parcel arrived, too, with the cake, and the boys in my sec- tion say you're the best cook in Manliness, strength and England. Kiss baby for me, and nobility of character persist, don't worry, dear. I'll be home

loriously through war. To say

Nothing virile, nothing that Is strong and noble is lost in peace.

that war enhances them is n damnable lie. The World is again being fed on that lie; and the Unknown Warrior is not yet 18 years in his grave.

"We must fight! Victory shall be ours!" They still foam at the mouth. The Booted Lenders,

Great the

Ones. Never" we must be reason- able; we must be charitable; we There is the must be fair." reek of blood about all their speeches.

"Victory shall be ours! " they shout, They do not mean you George, nor you Fritz, nor you Plerre, nor Manuel, nor Ivan, nor you Antonio. They mean

for Christmas, and we'll make up for all this."

The Unknown Warrior wrote Just such a letter.

the battle of the Anere. The battle of the Ancre? The post- war generation is puzzled, and very, naturally. What Daddy did in the Great War-do you remember that recruiting poster?—is vague and, to tell the truth, rather boring.

If some twenty-year-old is polite enough to ask, "Now tel! us all about the war, and what they fought each other for? " we have learned to be equally polite and reply merely, "It was a famous victory." So was the battle of the Ancre. So were all the battles-the Somme, Vimy Messines, all of them.

We would only point out that the Unknown Warrior may well have been killed, and very hor-.. ribly killed, when he was nine- teen or twenty-even eighteen.

He may have been one of those who did not return from the patrols in No Man's Land, jolly little affairs that were designed by both sides to keep up the morale of the troops.

Crawling men in the dark- ness: an obstacle encountered: Sometimes I wonder-for I someone breathes "Wire/ ": a was one of the lucky ones--If he quick-eared enemy: up goes a went over the top with me hissing Hght: the tat-tat-tat- ол what Edmund Blunden tat of a machine gun; and down describes in his "Undertones of comes a warning from the artil- War" as that “shabby clammy lery--just for luck. Later, in morning of November 13 ": two the casualty lists, somebody days short of 20 years ago.

. - reads

''Missing — Private So- "That,” says Blunden, “ was a and-So," feat of arms vying with any recorded." What was it? Why,

Many there are, more with each year, who have no mem- ories. of their own, whose impression of that racking. 'in- terminable effort which was the war is impersonal, gathered only from elders and books. To-day, we publish a selection of letters from Hongkong children, the eldest of whom was unborn six years after the war had ended. Even these children, as their letters show, can not miss the hint of far-off things and of high destiny that charges the GRIN AND BEAR IT air to-day. Nor do they fail, in their little essays, to ponder the steadfastness, the courage and the eternal pattern set by the men they never knew.

They are ready, these youth- ful ones, to help pay the debt which our Empire cannot fully discharge to the disabled and blind survivors of the war, and the obligation to. those ex-Ser- vice men who are poor and stand in need.

For these children tell us that our first duty to-day is to buy those Flanders poppies-em- blems of forgetfulness which fate has transfigured into the flower of remembrance. May every one sent to Hongkong be bought, not with good will only, but with generosity.

The ceremonies this morning, the recollection of the dead and of all that they endured, should turn our hopes and strict re- solves towards peace. May a like ordeal never again be de manded of our people. May, at the same time, the pence we gave thankfulness for this morning come soon to the un- happy nation which is

our neighbour.

BULLETO, The HUMAN CANNON BALL

"TIVICE

41200

4K Uy Kmated Postare Tv IATA, IA,

He may have been the man we found embedded in the side

shell-hole, by the side of ite road to Locon, soma - fifty yards behind the front line. That was, in the summer of 1018, a fairly peaceful time in a fairly peaceful sector.

One of us silpped down the" little crater's side and un- covered something. It was a "tin hat." We scraped away some more' earth, and found that the tin hat was on a man's hend. There he was crouching into the solid carth, just as the explosion had caught and fung him, By some freak of force the tin tint had been blown down over his ears, and so re- mained with its rim curiously fluted.

He was quite unrecognisable. His identity discs had vanished In the wreckage: but one of his badges was there. Wo buried him decently. One of us cut o card out of a cigarette packet, wrote on it in indelible pencil. "An unknown soldier of the Royal Scots," fixed the card to a rough cross, and stuck the cross into the ground at his head. It was in the middle of an orchard, and I remember that the cross was made of apple branches, tied together with a "pull-through."

Try to see that rough grave, you Mad World, you Booted Ones, you Great Heroic Leaders. See the home to which its accu- pant never returned. Imagine the baby to whom the Unknown Warrior sent his kiss, the baby now grown to an age at which he, too, may be sent marching. It is not hard to do that. If your imagination cannot bridge the years, ask a few Italianis, A fow Abyssinians, a few Spanlards.

Look at the Unknown War- riors's mask as the clock struck eleven this morning. Up he rises, his comrades of all nations by his side. Ask these unknown men why they laugh. They will reply-

"Because you force us to. Because wo hear the. Wat chanting its bellef in priae, vain-glory and hypocrisy, its bellet in envy, hatred, malice and all uncharitableness, its bellef in battle, murder, sudden death and contempt of God's Word,"

Then see to it that these Men have no more reason for that laughter of theirs.

By Lichty WATCHING THE WIND

"I imagine you'd be one of the first to be called in case of war."

SCA,

WHAT a difference the wind makes which pour over land and Wie diere we may argue shadows, un

look more tangible

thal wind is invisible, but its effects than the clouds which cause them, ure so apparent that it is hard to and which are often indigo in their realise that we do not actually see} intensity, the wind Lacit.

:

Did you ever watch dry sand.dance, I am not speaking only of the like sliver streamers, Över the wet clouds, although the endless proces- brown sand? You see that with a sion and everchanging pictures seem low tide and a land wind. It moves the wind made visible. But for the in a strange kaleidoscopic pattern, wind we would Inck those enchant shifling so quickly that we can ing cloud-castles and grim ogres; scarcely grasp one form before it has and those absurd animals and funtastic melled into another, strange figures which give such endless graceful lines and spirala and curves, variety to our changeful northern eddles like whirlwinds, and advancing lines like waves, breaking and re-

skies.

And did you never watch the wind forming as we watch. in a field of grain? It seems to play And we can watch the wind in the such pranks and to enjoy itself so trees, particularly those with allver- much!

lined leaves like aspen and white- beam, which break into silver and Euch grain responds characteristi- sway back into green when the wind eally to its rough. wooing. Oats ceases. And have you ever seen how ripple like watered silk, shot green the line of a willow expresses the and silver. Wheat is stiffer, and wind? Smooth and sleek to wind- seems to resent being whirled into ward with in-bent leaves, and frayed the dance, while barley boba and und blurred to the leeward where the bows, clumsy dancer, and seems less leaves spray out. And tree shadows a part of the wind itself. It is rather on a bare wall eddy and sway like something yielding clumsily, to the seaweed in a pool, revealing a beauty inevitable.

unsuspected in the origiant.

Onts respond gladly, like a calm sen

•

•

•

Wind shakes down the apple petals. to the first whispers of breeze, Parta like confeill at a fairy wedding,. remain smooth while parts dance and powdering the grass with its sequins. Beck like beaten pewter in the sun-But perhaps the loveliest manifesta- shine.

tion of all is when the wind riser Alm: And but for the wind we would through mit, rolling up the greynoss

most imperceptibly and tears its wasting lack those heavy cloud shadownl (Continued on Page 5.).