November 11.

Day 1,818, 00:57 • Published in USA USA • by celtgaerfelddafydd

Today is the day that we set aside a minute of our time at the 11th hour to honour all those who have fought throughout the world to ensure us the freedom to enjoy games like this one. As well, we should listen and take heed to this poem, written after the battle of Passchendaele in 1917.


In Flanders Fields, the poppies blow.
Between the crosses, row on row.
That mark our place. And in the sky,
the larks, still bravely singing fly,
scarce heard amidst the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago,
we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
loved and were loved, yet now we lie
in Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe.
To you with failing hands we throw
the torch. Be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die,
we shall not rest, though poppies grow,
in Flanders Fields.