They Shall Grow Not OldThoughts on Remembrance and Veterans Day.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

These are lines familiar to anyone who grew up in the United Kingdom or any Commonwealth country, as I did. Though many of us know this stanza by heart, few know where it originates. These lines, more commonly known as “The Ode of Remembrance,” come from the fourth stanza of Laurence Binyon’s “For the Fallen,” a poem he wrote in the first few weeks of the Great War. “The war to end all wars,” they called it; how wrong they were.

Five hundred twenty-eight alumni and staff from my high school, City of London School, alone gave their lives in service of their country in the First and Second World Wars. The memorial honoring their sacrifice bears the words of John 15:13: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” I had walked past the memorial more times than I can count and had never really noticed the quotation; it’s easy to walk past a list of names when one’s head is buried in an English textbook. But once a year, on Remembrance Day, the entire school community—from the youngest pupils to the oldest, teachers, staff—would gather in the courtyard to pay respects to those who gave everything so that we might live in freedom.

Though traditions differ slightly, Veterans Day, like Remembrance Day, has always held a special place in my heart. Many of my family members have served, and continue to serve, in the U.S. military. I am extremely proud of this. Days like these have never been an abstract ritual; they feel personal to me. Nov. 11 is a day when I can honor and reflect on my own family, as well as the countless other veterans who have given so much to this country.

I say this as a preface to explain my immense disappointment in the Harvard student body for their lack of participation in the College’s Veterans Day Observance. I raise it because the contrast is striking. I grew up in a place where over a thousand members of my school’s community stood silent, honoring 528 people none of us ever knew. Nobody treated it as an inconvenience; it was simply what we did, and it took nothing away from us. It takes very little to honor those who gave everything.

While a bright future beckoned

they freely gave their lives and fondest hopes

for us and our allies

that we might learn from them courage

in peace to spend

our lives making a better world for others.

These are the words inscribed around the top of the WWI memorial in Memorial Church, built in 1932 as a tribute to the Harvard men who died in battle. Since then, the memorials to Harvard’s fallen men and women in service of their nation have only grown as we have engaged in more wars throughout the years. Now, over a thousand names adorn the church’s walls as a testament to their sacrifice and a promise that they will never be forgotten. They were students like you and me who once crossed the Yard thinking they were on their way to brighter futures and their ‘fondest hopes.’ They gave their tomorrow for our today.

That is why the rows of empty pews at the College’s observance last year bothered me so much. A building built in honor of its beloved students was left mostly empty on the one day it should’ve been full.

Now, I don’t believe my peers are indifferent; I recognize we are all busy, and no one is required to attend a memorial service. However, I believe it is the right thing to do and that it is a real shame that attendance is so low. The service lasts an hour; all it asks is one hour to reflect on what has been lost. That is not burdensome compared with what was asked of them, or what is still asked of people your age and mine.

Memory is fragile, and it does not keep itself. Each year we lose more and more veterans of the Second World War and later conflicts. Before long, all that will be left are the names on the wall, which are not memories but proof of existence and gratitude. Attending these services keeps their memories alive, and we become links between those who knew these names as people and those who know them only as names on a wall.

Though this may be the Political Issue, there is nothing political about attending a service like this. It is one of the most unifying moments we have as Americans. No matter your creed, color, or party, you can stand as one in a room and pay your respects. There were no Republicans or Democrats at war, only Americans. You can disagree on how wars are fought; you can disagree with war as a general principle and criticize what we have done in the past, but that does not diminish the immense debt we owe those who came before us.

This issue, unfortunately for my impassioned plea for attendance, will be published the day after the Veterans Day Observance. However, the message is incredibly important, and if you didn’t go this year, go next year and the year after; the names aren’t going anywhere. Binyon’s poem does not say “they will be remembered” but rather “we will remember them,” a promise made in 1914 that we must continue to keep for the sake of those who come after us.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

​Noah Basden ’29 (nhbasden@college.harvard.edu) hopes to see you at the next Veterans Day Observance, if not on Wednesday.