The Restored Burlington Northern Depot
                          & WWII Memorial Museum


           Citizen-Soldiers on the War Fronts and Home Fronts
            & Keeping the Peace, from 1861 to the present day,
                          and thru the 21st Century:

                                        1861 - 1880

                                        1881 – 1900

                                        1901 – 1920

                                        1921 – 1940

                                       1941 – 1960

                                       1961 – 1980

                                       1981 – 2000

                                       2001 – 2020

A diverse set of references to military related museums,
     associations, projects, militaria, archives, records,
                 research and database websites.


          Dulce et Decorum Est

                                    By WILFRED OWEN

       Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

       Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

       Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,

       And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

       Men marched asleep.  Many had lost their boots,

       But limped on, blood-shod.  All went lame; all blind;

       Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

       Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.


      Gas!  GAS!  Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling

      Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,

      But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

      And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

      Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,

      As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.


      In all my dreams before my helpless sight,

      He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.


      If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

      Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

      And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,  

      His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

      If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

      Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, 

      Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

      Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— 

      My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

      To children ardent for some desperate glory,

      The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.


                note: Latin phrase is from the Roman poet Horace:

                  “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”

  owenA.png      owenB.png

             WILFRED OWEN, 18 MAR 1893 – 04 NOV 1918

                                Lieutenant, Manchester Regiment

           Killed in Action, Canal de la Sambre à ľOise, France