LEST WE FORGET.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 18861, 8 November 1924, Page 6 (Supplement)

LEST WE FORGET.

BY VXVIEJJ. In a -world in which speed seems to have betome the slogan o£ the hour and the j mere business of living to grow daily more i strenuocs and more intense, a world in f which even time and space are rapidly annihilated by the miracles of wireless waves, and visions of yet greater wonders dazzle the minds of men—in such a world of feverish rush and perpetual activity it is scarcely to be wondered at that time-honoured anniversaries, once well-re-membered, and faithfully kept, nowadays i frequently pass by unheeded and almost 1 forgotten. , But, though other traditions j perish irrevocably and other customs be ' lost in the mists of antiquity and other anniversaries fade into oblivion, there is one day which for the sake of all that it meant in the past and all that it means to the future must live forever in the sonls of human beings—the anniversary of the day on which the heart of a world stood " still in utter thankfulness that at last '-'The Armistice" was a reality. | And so on Tuesday, when for a brief fraction of time a vast silence will suddenly descend on a listening world in commemoration of the sixth anniversary of . Armistice Day, the years will roll back »nd, those who, because they feel, must always remember,, will live again the joy or anguish, the passionate gratitude or the leaden despair, the unspeakable relief or the aching desolation, the utter thankfulness or the overwhelming senso of personal loss, which were all alike the fruits

of victory, the gifts of peace. For alaa! amid the many who could whole-heartedly rejoice there were countless others whose gratitnde for victory was shadowed or tempered or utterly swamped by the tragedy of their own personal sorrow, countless others whose sense of thankfulness for peacc and pleasure in the general rejoicings was sometimes borne down, overweighted, crashed into the dust by the searing agony, the poignant bitterness of the thought, "For others, it is well! But for me it is too late!"

" Too late!" In all the world there aro no sadder words than those. That is why it is well that year by year we should pause for an instant on Armistice Day to do homage to the war-marked living as wall as to the invisible hosts of the dead

lest we forget the immensity of the price that was paid for peace, and the toll of suffering that is still being cnacted. That, too, is why we would do well to remember -that-, whereas those who have passed on to the Great Beyond do not really need war-memorials to keep their memories green in the hearts of those who loved them, ou the other hand those who live on. manned and broken and bereft alike of hopes and prospects and ambitions, do much more urgently need all the tender consideration, all the practical help and sympathy that a worid forever in their debt can extend to them. It is for women especially to see that there is no lack of love and sympathy and understanding for the men who came back to them broken and nerve-wracked and warhaunted. And always the time to act is to-day, because there is always the danger that to-morrow may be-r-too late! I