The German Cemetery –
Deurne
In green Dutch fields
- in silent rows
the crosses stand at Deurne
mute sacrifices to a
madman's whim.
Some, fledglings,
snatched from the cradle
then, brainwashed by
a subtle propaganda
were willing victims
- some were unwilling
yet, unable to
protest, knowing what fate
awaited them should
they rebel
were victims too.
But all bear evidence
in their mass,
to the futility of
war.
So if somewhere there
is a fool
who speaks of
conquest, as a glorious thing,
please - let them look
at Deurne
and then think again.
Ben
Grader 16-09-2000
I had not written
poetry for about 20 years when I was taken by a Dutch friend to see the German War Cemetery at Deurne.
The youngest that I saw buried there was 17 years old, the oldest was 80. It made
such an impression on me that it kick-started my writing again.
This was what boiled
up in my mind.
Aftermath.
We
have seen, without the danger, men descend,
dangling beneath a silken shroud.
The morning was not wet, as years ago,
the sun shone down in kindly blessing,
there were no threatening guns. No enemy,
to greet them as they did in years gone by.
The ‘Vets’ in orange - jumping in pairs ,
were welcomed with applause not ominous death.
No S.S. men to shoot them, or field grey,
of foes prepared to blast them down.
Only a crowd with joyous memory
of liberation in those far off days,
and still remembering with a sense of joy,
the jubilation of deliverance.
Ben
Grader September 22nd 2001
Challenge to
youth
I am an old man now, but I
am lucky
for I live. So many of my age group died
Dutch, British, and Americans with others too.
You may say, and many will, that, "War is Evil".
I agree with all my heart and soul
but worse than war, is subjugation by a foreign power
oppression underneath dictatorship. All freedom lost
even the freedom to be wrong; and yet
have liberty to say things still.
And so what will you have
a meek subservience to Jackboot Law?
or will you have the bravery, to say, as we did
"Evil is wrong, we’ll not accept, oppression
In any form or guise
Even to giving up our lives at need."
and in so doing, making sure that others
might be free, of forced subjection
Lose their liberty, beneath a conqueror’s foot.
For some men’s nature; though ‘tis not ideal
is to impose their power on others.
Could there be a perfect world, ‘twere well
but this is not to be; as Burns has said
"Man’s inhumanity to man", a phrase
that sums up my whole argument
and puts it, better; than I could at any time.
For today’s youth has never seen the facts
but only heard, through history
what we had faced, when we
gave up our youth, our teenage years for you
the generations yet to come.
Are you in turn, prepared to do the same
for future generations in their need?
Ben Grader September 19th, 2001
The Bitter Prayers
We met there at a clearing in the trees
a bare two hundred metres side to side.
The path that ran down through the heart
dividing up the crosses on each flank.
Our comrades lay in perfect line
and row on row, with here and there
a name we recognised, a face recalled
When was the last time we had talked?
only for them to fall to death’s grim scythe.
How had they failed to make the break
as we did? Was he the one whose body
dead already, had saved me from a certain death
from mortar blast? Or had he been the one I carried
in my arms, already deadly wounded, bleeding fast
into the aid post at the nearby house?
Here is a name I well recall, our section humorist
where is his laughter now? His crazy shout
of ‘Wo-o-o-ho-o-o Mahomed’ from the line
rallying companions to a bitter stand
until supplies ran out. Then, we retreated
house by house, and road by road.
Until in dead of night, a river flowing fast
some got to safety on a further shore.
Those days have gone, yet memory recalls
a dozen instances or more, of long departed friends
near sixty years ago, back in the distant days.
Away in the golden years of youth.
Ben Grader Monday, 24
September 2001
Amersfoort
The wire has gone –
the chains remain – in memory
the
tower stands, reminding of the days,
so
remote now, but still retained in minds
of
those who suffered here so many years ago.
Their
numbers thin, and generations now forget
what
happened to their fellows in the past.
Here
symbols still stand, and can recall to mind
those
frightful days, the winter of starvation, bitter cold;
extermination
camps, a liberation try – which failed
but
yet brought hope, and thoughts of better days to come.
Ben Grader September 2002
In Memories
In our memories you will remain
and
we will gather in remembrance.
Each
year as Autumn comes
we
will recall your sacrifice.
We
will meet in this green place
and
commemorate the days
when
you paid with your young lives
to
free us from tyranny.
You
failed but still it gave us hope
that
one day soon
Holland would be free again.
Ben Grader September 2002
Remembrance
The children still remember tho’ they were not there
but from their parents, memories have been passed on
of that September morn, when on a misty day
the ‘chutes had drifted down, and liberators came.
Now on a Sunday morning, with flowers in their hands
they pay respects to those who died in noble cause
and veterans too have come to see the graves
of comrades who had died so many years ago.
Over the ages Father Time has made his toll
the ranks are thinning now as he has reaped
a sacrifice, and numbers are reduced
the youngest stripling then, approaching eighty now.
Now on command the children move, placing the flowers
on the graves they tend with care.
A sadness overcomes them and some weep
recalling parent’s words, of sacrifice in vain.
Hard were the battles in those autumn days
as street by street they fought a bitter war
outnumbered, and outgunned, they still held on
only to find no re-enforcement’s come.
Their dream of freedom may have gone
but still the Dutch civilians gave what aid they could.
The injured taken in, their wounds were dressed
and comfort given to those whose need was great.
Then in the aftermath they hid them from the foe
and helped them to escape when they were well
until in after-year they could return, to give them
in a time to come, again, true liberty at last.
Ben Grader Oosterbeek 2002
The 58th Year
So
once again the time has come
to
pay respects to brothers gone;
we
were the lucky ones, who came out whole
unscathed
in all save minds; which still recall
the
former battles of those long-gone days
in
nightmare dreams, which come to us at times.
In
them we see our comrades fall:
yet
we in bullet showers remain unhurt.
The
fairest of the forest ever go the first;
while
we, the duller plods are left behind.
And
still, the people flock in hundreds on the day
to
give their thanks for liberation in the past
Even
the very trees appear to mourn;
as
errant leaves, moved by a vagrant breeze
scatter
across the service as they sing;
and
we who came today, will not forget
our
friends who died so many years ago;
that
all might live in freedom once again.
Ben Grader Oosterbeek 2002
Again
Once more
we meet on Hallowed Ground
though years have passed, our memories stay undimmed
our comrades died in battle’s heat, yet still
the
sacrifice they made is not forgotten as the years go by.
They gave
their lives for others’ liberty
a “War to end all wars”, yet strife goes on
for liberty cannot be cheaply bought
but must be purchased time and time again.
Always the
lesson must be learned anew,
the bitter struggle to ensure, that freedom,
though it’s thought by some, not to be worth fighting for
is passed unfettered to our nations youth.
One tyrant dies, or is removed, another takes their place,
dictatorship imposed by force, ensures a country’s misery.
Only when Nations’ United in full unity, not just in name
will act as one, can freedom have true meaning in the world.
BenGrader September 2003
Faith
Another year has passed, we stand
once more, beside the stones,
our ranks are thinner now, as age has reaped its toll.
Still
we keep faith with comrades now long gone.
Long
gone, but not forgotten are those days
the ready comrade-ship of friends we lost.
Although
they gave their lives for freedoms sake
sometimes it seems a sacrifice in vain.
A
liberty too dearly bought, the price too high
scorned by some peoples of today;
yet were it not for us, where would they be?
if generations there should be at all.
Dictatorship from left or right must be opposed
freedoms most precious gift, the principal
to speak out as we will with no restraint
must be maintained, no matter what the cost.
Ben Grader 2004
I Had a Friend
I had a friend at Amersfoort
his age like mine a bare eighteen;
we had gone to school
together, knew each others families.
Ours
was a friendship that had stood the pace.
Then he went on, to Bergen-Belsen; I was left
behind;
and so I lived, while he had died. Exterminated like a pest
in spite of victory so close. I ask myself ‘Why was it done?’
but get no answer that makes sense to me.
Now each autumn as the acorns
drop, I still return
and place a rose in memory on the memorial.
I find I can no longer hate the ruthlessness, which happened here;
age has softened my relentless animosity, yet I remember still.
I had a friend at Amersfoort his age like mine, a bare
eighteen.
Ben Grader October 2004
A few years ago when visiting we were taken to see the
Amersfoort Concentration Camp Museum and memorial and I was struck by the fact
that someone had placed roses for remembrance on the memorial slab. I had seen
the Bergen-Belsen camp just after it had been
liberated and the sight still lingers in my memory even today. When I came upon
a picture which I had taken at Amersfoort
it set my mind working and I tried to place myself in the mind of the person
who had put the roses there.
‘I Had a Friend’ was
the result. Derek. AKA Ben Grader
Oosterbeek the 60th year
The Warriors have all been laid to
rest
their chariots now
slowly rust away
and we, the ones who only linger on
have come once more to pay them our respects.
We too are drawing
to the close of life
our vital spirits slowly ebb away,
Sixty long years have passed us since the day
we dropped at Ginkel Heath to liberate.
We landed on a dull
September morn
our gliders filled the skies like clouds of flies
our parachutes pale shapes against the clouds
we entered into action right away.
And now the halt,
the lame, the aged vets
stand on a Sunday morn at Oosterbeek.
The comrades still in memory remain
the names on stone still etched in memory plain.
So we remember for
one final time
before we too reduce to dust at last
the friends we lost so many years ago
in that adventure in an early age.
Ben Grader September 2004
War Cemetery.
He saw the many
stones, and then the tears
coursed slowly down his cheeks, and when they asked
“Why do you weep?” He said with softened voice,
“I weep for lads cut down in youths full flower,
I weep for all the stark futility
the very inhumanity of war;
even the thought of killing fellow man
repels me, is against my way of life.
Yet when the clarion call stirs up my blood
I can become as one with them myself.
So did I weep – because I realise
I am as bad as those that I condemn.”
Ben Grader September 2004
Pilgrimage
September
comes around again
we turn our thoughts to journeying
Once more we visit where our comrades lie;
our numbers dwindle steadily and now
we wonder will this be the final time.
The
troubled world still boils with heated wars
as terror factions wage their petty spite;
so was the sacrifice they made in vain?
was it a wastage of their precious blood?
Ben
Grader September 2005
Service
Sunday has come, the sun shines
brightly down
the silent crowds, gather in multitudes.
The
children flock with flowers in their hands;
and
on the word place them upon the graves.
Traces of frost still show upon the grass,
but colder still, is the dank earth; the graves
in which our comrades lie. And we have come
to honour them today, with our Dutch friends.
They fought away from country — far
from home
nor could they go back, at the battle’s end.
But
we will carry Poland’s
banner high
to proclaim still our love of liberty.
Ben Grader 18th
September 2005
Visit 2005
We have visited again and seen the
stones
The flowers grow, rich in their colours;
The close cropped grass is smooth,
silence is broken only by the birds.
We will come again on Sunday
when the crowds turn up in numbers.
They
will celebrate the time sixty-one years ago
when the try was made to liberate
Children
will place flowers of remembrance;
as they do each year; Dutch people do not forget
as some other nations do. They still
remember although sixty years have passed.
Ben
Grader September 14th 2005
We WILL Remember.
The sun gleams
golden through the leafy trees;
the carven’d stones are lined in many rows;
Music plays quietly as the mourners sing,
it is September come around once more.
Our comrades died in battles chaos heat
yet
we remember as we said we would.
Each
year infirmity will claim more lives;
but
we will visit ‘til we too are dust.
They
gave young lives for freedom’s sake. Shall we
forget
the sacrifice they made? Oh No !
We
WILL remember them as they lie here;
in
quiet peace for which they gave their all
Ben Grader
September 2005
Memories.
The smell of new-cut grass refreshing as
the scent of new-laid dust in summer shower
assails our nose as we go through the gates
where they prepare the lawns for Sundays prayers.
The blossoms grow in colour beside
the stones
with maybe here and there a special plant,
which was perhaps a favourite flower at home.
Tears
that were shed so many years ago
have all dried up; but memories don’t fade.
Death
was the final outrage visited
upon the victims lying here in peace
and we will not forget though years may pass
our fellow squaddies from our army days.
Ben Grader September 2006
Time
passes.
The time goes by; summer is gone too soon
and once again September comes around;
numbers have dwindled fast and few are left
the stripling youths of sixty years ago
are now old men whose years are nearly done,
we too will soon be
dust and buried deep.
Our youths today no
longer seem to care
but still in Oosterbeek each year, they mourn
and yet our countrymen, whose family’s blood
was shed, have all too soon forgotten it.
Material acquisition fills their minds
so was the sacrifice our comrades made
a vain attempt to clear the world of sin
which all too fast sprang back despite the war
as evil spreads again throughout the world.
Ben Grader September 2006
This poem is dedicated to Dennis & Debby Bovet of Den
Haag Holland, who organised a concert to raise funds that helped to defray our
travelling expenses to the Arnhem Pilgrimage in September 2006. The Dutch people
remember what often, our own countrymen do their best to forget.
Why.
Life is so short already, why are
some
cut off so early from their course
of days?
They say with all sincerity that
God
takes first the ones that he loves
best, to rest.
But
what of those the loved one’s left behind
a
life of sadness is their daily fate;
they
must rely on happy memories
to
reconcile them, till their time is come.
Or
are we thrown in nature’s riddle, to sift
and
sort us into sheep, and goats, and size.
Is
it mere chance that takes us to our death?
a
coin that’s flipped, a dice that’s cast aside?
There
must be something more than empty space
our
spirit goes to when we close our eyes.
‘Twould
be so cruel to torment us in life
if we could not meet them in
after days.
Ben Grader September 2006
he Sunday Service
The crowds are gathering, the
seating fills;
the sky is clear, not like the day
they landed on the heath, weather was fickle then.
But
they were young, and danger just a thrill;
The thought of death did not occur
until they saw their comrades fall
brought down by random fire
They
fought, they did their best
only to fail – and then
they made it to the riverbank and boats
though some died on the shore.
Now
on a Sunday morn, in Oosterbeek
Dutch children lay the flowers on the graves
and will their children too bring flowers in their turn?
Ben Grader 21st
September 2008
The 64th
Year
Captains
and privates side by side
rank makes no difference here;
many are just “A soldier of the war -
Known only unto God”
Stones
stand in stiff and regular rows;
grass is cut fine in paths between.
Flowers are placed in favoured spots
and visitors pace the hallowed grounds
On
Sunday crowds will gather here
Dutch children will bring flowers once more;
each year the service for the dead
repeats to show the thanks they hold.
Today
we visit, poppies in berets;
and crosses in our hands;
we can in private grieve for friends we lost
who vanished a lifetime in the past.
Ben Grader 17th
September 2008.
The
Visitor
I strolled along a street in
Oosterbeek
and I was asked by many a resident
“Did you come here in 1944,
to liberate us from the German Reich?”
I
said each time “Why no! I was not here
I paid my visit to Holland in the South
I was in Brabant not in Gelderland.
It
is not me that you should seek to praise;
I did not parachute to Ginkel Heath
Nor did I strive with 30 Corps in vain
to reach the bridge that Colonel Frost had held”
And
yet, they shook my hand and said “You came,
so now we welcome your return to us.”
Ben Grader 17th
September 2008.
65 years on.
So now we are away, this the last
year
our visits now are done and we will go no more.
65
years have passed since the eventful day
the operation doomed to fail, no matter what the bravery
of those who surpassed mortal courage
’Till to say the simple words
“I was there” is testament enough.
Now
we stand in reverie amongst the stones
recalling friends long gone, long gone, but not forgotten
though their faces dim over the years
we still remember those that died
Our
numbers yearly drop, as age conducts its toll
The
youngest ‘babes’ at Arnhem,
now old men of eighty years and more.
BenGrader September 2009
Flowers in the wind.
‘Tis Sunday and once more the
children come
with flowers in their hands
Sunflowers
bright, to lighten dirt-dark graves
Black Eyed Susan daisies to stand against the stones.
Children
whose parents were not born then
but who will carry the observance down,
and then in turn will pass the message on
to their children in due course.
And
so it goes one generation to another;
tradition passes down from school to school
and family to family, for they will not forget.
Ben Grader September 2009.
Memorials
So
often overlooked they stand in gardens here and there,
the simple words of thanks in carven stone.
“To
the men of X troop or company
who valiantly stood until the last”
They
will not forget though years may pass
your sacrifice was not in vain.
You
gave them hope they would be free again
until at last the oppressor’s yoke was gone
and they could celebrate with no more fear.
So
now when the surviving vets return
they welcome you with all the due acclaim.
Ben Grader September 2009
To
the Children of Gelderland.
Each year they give their time and
holding flowers
they come once more, up to the lines of standing stones.
The Sunday morning service – may be long – but
patiently
they wait until the time has come, to lay their blossoms
on the graves of those, who sacrificed their lives
for freedom; oh so many years ago.
Myself, I was not there at Ginkel Heath, I was in Brabant
yet I appreciate the memories, that still hold fast.
We veterans dwindle now as age, relentlessly,
and yearly, cuts our numbers down, until one day,
there will be one surviving vet; left as the lonely last.
Newspapers will plug the fact - to boost their
sales
not really caring; yet in Gelderland, I wonder
if the children
set and strong, will still bring flowers to a Sunday service,
to commemorate the battle long ago. I do not doubt,
the memory lives strong today and so the passing years
will not dilute the service to the ones, that gave their lives,
although in vain, to break the oppressor’s yoke.
Ben Grader September 2009
Flowers in the Wind (2)
Sunday has come; — we stand in
silence;
the congregation mourns the loss of friends.
Here they lie with others in the graves
white tombstones to commemorate their regiments
The rows are straight, and marked
with greensward borders in between.
Immaculately kept as on parade
with all in place and none astray
And now the children come with flowers;
roses for remembrance, and colours bright.
They stand before the graves, and on the signal
place their offerings on the ground
Each year they have done this in memory
passed down by parents who have done before.
And so tradition has passed on by family
and carried on for over sixty years.
Ben Grader September 2010
Remembering.
The seats are
empty -- chairs unfilled
Sunday will see the crowds attend.
Our comrades lie here in the earth
they did not choose; nor did they want
the fate that brought them to their end.
For no man craves a
hero’s death
They were just lads and few of them
had really entered into life,
before they found a sudden stop
to future dreams of happiness.
Here they lie; but nor
forgotten
each year they are remembered every day
and now in Oosterbeek the folk
still show that they appreciate
the sacrifices made for Holland’s freedom.
Ben Grader September 2010
The Pilgrimage
Where are they now the Heroes?
as once more we journey forth
on pilgrimage to commemorate their sacrifice
before we too will join them in the ground
Folk say: and it is true “Old age comes not alone”
each year sees some drop out as Death’s scythe
takes its toll, and numbers lessen yet still,
we do our best to visit and keep faith
In our minds we can cast back remembering
the comradeship that grew between us
as we served, Faces grow dim but characters
still register until we can recall them true to life.
Ben Grader September
2010
Flowers in the Wind
– 3
Patiently
they wait; the voice drones on
flowers in their hands the children had filed in
a full five minutes before. When will it be the time
to hold the bouquets in the air to mass applause?
At last the word is given, triumphantly they rise
their arms
The
congregation greets the move with praise.
Then
as one child, they put the flowers down
Each
has a grave to place the offering on.
Roses
for remembrance or daisies bright
At
last the job is done until next year
when other schools will take the duty on
a yearly tribute done with pride and joy.
Ben Grader September 2011
Stone next to
stone.
Stone next to stone; and row on row
names immaterial, some unknown.
The place immaculate, grounds neatly kept
All are united their purpose fulfilled.
Each year
we, the survivors: dwindle;
as death whittles us down.
Now at last we can no longer visit
old age and brittle bones have won the fight.
For
we are not immortal like the Grecian heroes
Hercules, Perseus, Theseus: who live forever.
time is coming soon for us,
to fold our tents and gently fade away.
Soon
we too will be just memories
Like “Do you remember so and so?
He passed away last year
a merciful release his mind had gone”
Will
we find that death is merciful to us?
Though
it is certain, make it quick.
The
thought of dying day by day
is punishment indeed.
Ben Grader September 2011
Thursday
We enter through the gates, to pay respects to those that
fell
although ‘twas long ago our comrades lie in quiet and peace.
And all is perfect in this wooded glade where stones stand row on row.
Today is still, Sunday will bring the crowds, as thousands
gather here.
Now we can in loneliness and ease, search among the graves
and look for names of our old friends, who perished many years ago.
A wooden cross, stuck in the soil before the naming stone;
will show that they were not forgotten through the passing years.
Sunday the children will places flowers here, as they have
done before
Year after year tradition follows on, the schools in turn
taking the duty over.
In Gelderland, the memories
are kept, and each year acknowledgement is made.
Unlike some nations where they soon forgot, the Dutch keep up their memory.
Ben Grader September 2011
The Reichswald
Cemetery
Young
men’s lives are precious, so many years to lose.
Now
they lie here beneath the headstones, in silent dignity,
Did they have an easy death? A quiet exit?
No-one will know, always the telegram
would say,
“Died for his country, on active service.”
No
mention of the suffering that went before,
The
agony of shattered limbs, or grievous wounds.
for
war is not compassionate, it is the opposite;
sheer violent destruction no matter how ‘twas caused.
The
armchair warriors who cry “Onward to
glory men”
whilst sitting in comfort back at home themselves
should try a bayonet charge or two, stabbing out
not peasant soldiers guts, but politicians from the opposing side.
Then
they could keep the glory for their own,
theirs: the power they had won; if they survived.
Ben Grader September 2011
Flowers in the Wind –4
So we went and listened to
the talk
the crowd turned up as usual the weather cloudy, but no rain.
And then the children came,
with flowers in their hands
each year the schools, following precedent, bring blossoms
to enrich the graves with colour. Roses and daises, Sunflowers bright.
They wait in patience till
the word comes forth, then they step forward
and each stone receives its beneficence, This has followed down
over the years since liberation, and I think will carry on in perpetuity.
Ben Grader September 22nd 2012.
Service
It’s Sunday and once more we go to service
our numbers lessen year by year
We meet friends here that we have not seen
since last year, when we met again
Will they be here this time? Or maybe
they too have passed away.
The stripling youths of many years ago
now in their nineties or approaching it
While those of who were of middle-age,
if they survive, have helpers
that will see them through the journey
long though it may be
The chairs are more this year, yet still
as long as family can give support
or friends can travel with us to assist,
we oldsters will attend, until
we too are down below as dust.
Ben
Grader Sept 22nd 2012
Old Age
Quickly the days fly past, September comes around again
Our steps are more unsteady now. Years have rolled by
since 1944. Slowly, in faltering steps
we pick our way
between the stones where former comrades lie.
Memories grow dim, but we remember yet
as though ‘twere yesterday, and can still
bring to our eyes their faces. Can recall,
the accents of the country lads amongst them.
Now whilst we linger on, the years still trickling past
we venture once again upon our Pilgrimage.
Our yearly journey that we willingly
go forth upon, with year succeeding year
Until one day, we too, will join them
no matter where their spirits are.
Either in heaven above or down below
whatever fate has cast us for our deeds in life.
No mater which way, we will find companionship
as we had once before. We were a well assorted crowd
came from all walks of civvy life. But mixed in well
and in those heady days of battle did our best.
And though our best was not to grant us victory
neither did defeat blacken our name
for we, in those short days, set out a challenge
“We will win; eventually, Victory will be ours”
Ben Grader September 2012
Flowers in
the wind – 5
For
sixty-eight years they have done it
and still they carry it on
and when we veterans cease to be
each year the children from the schools of Gelderland
will lay their flowers by the stones
in recognition of the sacrifice.
“Flowers
in the Wind” they call it
Is it a labour? No ! it is a deed of thanks
to those who died so others lived in freedom
and that generations yet to be born
could live as citizens of Holland
and not beneath Jack-booted feet.
Ben Grader September 2013
Flowers in
the Wind – 6
The time goes by,
age brings infirmity
yet still we try to visit every year.
Midweek we gather
at the hallowed place
our visit private; just for us alone
On Sunday when the
service will be held
the crowds will gather; and the children bring
flowers of remembrance, daises and sunflowers
scattered among the stones of those that fell
Well might it be called “Flowers in the Wind”
as children from the many schools arrive
year after year, with blossoms in their hands
placing them with reverence before the graves.
And this has
happened every year
and still goes on; nor will it cease to be
in honour bound by
human faith alone
for Gelderlanders
don’t forget the past.
Ben Grader September 2013
The Arnhem Pilgrimage
The
time has come and we must go, our pilgrimage is over
each year we have paid tribute at the graves,
planting our crosses by the stones
Each
year our bodies have become, more tired, more frail
Will we last out until the seventieth year?
only the Lord knows or can tell.
But
we have done our duty as we see it
We have traveled hundreds of miles in the years
to visit old companions as they lie in peace
in this green field we have come to know so well
We have joined the Sunday congregation
we have sung the hymns and said the prayers
Soon
it will be the time that they are sung and said for us.
Ben Grader September 2013
Day—dreams.
Sometimes,
when half asleep and half awake
my memories take me, back to those heady days
confusion and the feel of things gone wrong.
What did we do? We carried on and made
the best of it. Though on a losing side we did not shirk
we tried our best and caution went
we fought as best we could and did not hesitate
to face the enemy; continuing with our task,
but then the weather turned against us
our pocket lost supplies, Those that were dropped
drifted into the hands of our opponents.
Some of us reached the river and the boats
manned by Canadian ‘Sappers’, lifted us
and got us safely to the river’s other bank
Now
we return to venerate, in Sunday’s service
those that died in battle in a land then strange
but now, it’s full of friends that join with us
to mourn our comrades who have passed before.
Ben Grader September 2013
Ginkel
Heath
The ‘chutes drift
down at Ginkel Geath
as Dutch folk
celebrate
a happening of many year ago.
The crowds have
gathered in the morning hours
Children and grown-ups too rejoice
applauding when they drop and rach the ground.
Veterans are
welcomed with open arms
and hands are shaken in enthusiastic joy
although the past is so remote
memories are kept alive as though ‘twere yesterday
instead of almost seventy years ago
Each year the crowds seem larger to my wondering brain;
my eyes take in yet
cannot fully grasp the numbers.
Families arrive
with children that can barely walk
determined they will celebrate in full
Will this go on
forever? I do not doubt
Dutch people don’t
forget as other nations do
I expect in Nijmegen, the “Screaming
Eagles”
Find the same, a
welcome back
and many thanks for what they did in war.
Ben Grader September 2013
Inheritance Flowers in the Wind 7
I was a stripling lad of twenty years
the time this happened seventy years ago.
At ninety now my ageing bones and frame
will call a halt to travelling for this day.
and other, older veterans, have died.
We pass to you, the folk of Netherlands
the memory of our comrades lying here.
Over the years your caring does not fade
but we must leave it now to younger hands.
Back in those days some gave their all, their lives
for freedoms sake, for you, the ones to come.
Now in safe hands your children celebrate
by laying flowers on the many graves.
And in this peaceful glade, this cemetery
as autumn comes, you’ll gather still in time.
As leaves begin to fall upon the graves
each year, as memory holds fast with faith
that lasts perpetually, in Dutch folks hearts.
Ben Grader 2014
The pilgrimage - 3
Over the years our numbers have decreased
and few are left of the original throng
our travelling now at over 90 years
becomes more difficult as time has passed
So we have now, to end our pilgrimage
this the last one of seventy years
although in spirit we will visit still
to where our comrades lie in ordered rows.
Memories hold fast and do not die
it seems like yesterday at times
though things that happened recently
have vanished from our minds in only days
Now on this last event, this final visit
we can ponder, “How long before we too
will join the company?” Age is relentless
Soon the time will come for us.
Ben Grader Sept 2014
Conclusion.
The
time has come for me to end my visits
As
Mathew says; Though I am willing yet,
my flesh is weak. I can no longer manage
all the journeying, but my heart is here.
As
each September comes my spirit
will return to where our comrades rest.
This
peaceful haven with its rows of stones
set ‘neath the shade of ever graceful trees.
And
as our Dutch friends celebrate
the happening of many years ago
perhaps I too will soar to heaven above
as the hymns pour forth in praise.
Ben Grader 2014
My Testament.
