We remember them. I remember my grand-father, gassed, shot, left for dead, amputated. He endured 4 years of war, Verdun and the Chemin des Dames.
He could never forget, he had nightmares, he relived the horrors of the trenches every night until he died, from complications in his once gassed lungs.
I never got to meet him, neither did my siblings or my cousins. He is celebrated and remembered.
Poppies and corn flowers cover the blood-soaked trenches in the Spring.