Lest we Forget

Today at Prince’s Mead, our school community came together for a poignant Remembrance Service. We were honoured to welcome Rear Admiral Lang DL, and we extend our sincere thanks to all who joined us in remembering those who gave their lives in service.

Our Head Boy and Head Girl led a moving moment of reflection with their eloquent reading of ‘In Flanders Fields’ by John McCrae, setting a thoughtful tone for the morning.

Across the school, from Nursery to Year 6, pupils have been exploring the theme of remembrance through art and writing. The children created a beautiful display featuring pottery crosses, paintings of soldiers, collage poppies, and cornflowers (bleuets de France) made in French lessons, a nod to France’s own national flower of remembrance.

Our Year 6 pupils reflected deeply in their English lessons, composing their own poetry inspired by the significance of this day.

Class Remembrance Poem by 6NS

In the muddy field there are white crosses, row on row;

Dead soldiers who fought for us all that time ago...

Bullets rained from the dark grey sky.

Soldiers fell and suffered as weeping mothers cried.

Bombs ticked, rapidly guns fired, gas spread like wildfires.

Choking, guttering, screaming, they died!

But still the blood-red poppies in the field dance,

As the mourning wind blows softly

Class Remembrance Poem by 6GJ

‘BOOM’

Gunshots flying out of nowhere like popping candy,

'Gas, gas,’ shouted men as the dived for their masks.

Sprinting as if their lives depended on it, soldier’s fell one after the other,

Skin ripped off like torn paper.

Bombs dropped like dead birds,

Men plummeted to the ground like dominoes.

A blanket of red, dresses the ground,

Innocent soldiers dying, giving their lives for freedom.

Smell of death everywhere,

Cries could be barely heard over the terrifying sounds of explosions.

The battle field, a devil in disguise,

Suddenly the air is silent, men lying in their eternal sleep.

We will remember them.

Beyond The Battlefields Poem by 6GBT

The thunderous bang of a bomb rumbled around the obsidian gloom,

The desolate darkness was like a hole in one's heart; empty and full of despair,

It was an endless void of bloodshed and death.

Soldiers strongly gripped the gnarled handle of their rifle, covered in a coat of blood, sweat and anger.

Strolling through the humid, silent battlefield, the overwhelmed soldiers felt dejected as scarlet stains dripped down their face like grime.

Rapidly, the long fields turned into battered, bloodstained mud, covered in carnage.

The men scurried into the bomb shelter like terrified mice.

The crimson liquor of blood slowly dripped from the soldiers' pointy chins like beads of sweat.

You could smell the bitter sweetness of love, longing and loss.

Sadness gnarled its way into the depths of the soldiers' hearts, which were soon to be still and sombre.

The sound of ferocious booming echoed as bullets silently whistled past, slicing through the air,

You could taste the acidic, metallic blood lingering in the gas struck air,

The missiles dropped from the sky, creating an unearthly hole in the damp and dirty hill,

Millions upon millions of helpless soldiers dropped, as bellows and commands drifted around.

BANG! Silence....