Some fell on the beaches, some fell from the sky.
Some died in the trenches, never knowing why.
They died for flags, they died in rags,
in clothes so battle torn,
Some died before they fully knew
why they were even born.
Some died upon the spots they fell,
and went quickly to their graves.
Some lived to tell their tales of hell,
wondering why they had been saved.
The best, the worst, dead last or first
they all died just the same.
Some had scars which couldn't be seen,
or plates worn inside their heads.
With lungs so scarred from gasses
they could hardly draw a breath.
But all of them died heroes,
on this we all agree.
They died deaths not for them selves,
but died for you and me.
Photo by Wm. Shone Williams
Circa July 1918 in France
Wm. Shone Williams died at age 43, with a metal plate in his head and lungs scarred from mustard gas. It took him 25 years to die. A belated casualty of "the War to end all wars." He was the grandfather I never knew.
Some died in the trenches, never knowing why.
They died for flags, they died in rags,
in clothes so battle torn,
Some died before they fully knew
why they were even born.
Some died upon the spots they fell,
and went quickly to their graves.
Some lived to tell their tales of hell,
wondering why they had been saved.
The best, the worst, dead last or first
they all died just the same.
Some had scars which couldn't be seen,
or plates worn inside their heads.
With lungs so scarred from gasses
they could hardly draw a breath.
But all of them died heroes,
on this we all agree.
They died deaths not for them selves,
but died for you and me.
Photo by Wm. Shone Williams
Circa July 1918 in France
Wm. Shone Williams died at age 43, with a metal plate in his head and lungs scarred from mustard gas. It took him 25 years to die. A belated casualty of "the War to end all wars." He was the grandfather I never knew.
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