Memorial for Harry Paul Materne III (matt56)
After a long delay a fitting memorial for Harry P. Materne III was held in Dayton, Ohio today. Covid 19 had shut down any previous attempts at putting this ceremony on. Karleen, Harry's widow, worked with the Veteran's Association to put together a touching event. It was held at the Dayton National Cemetery at noon. I will let the pictures speak for them selves.
21 gun salute and the playing of Taps.
The refolding of presentation of the colors.
Graeme Materne wearing his father's kilt.
After the ceremony we retire to the Materne household. Karleen had a large number of pictures up commemorating Harry's life. There were some pictures of some members of our group that had the honor of knowing him.
Jim O'Neil (Rhodie80) from their days in the Royal Canadian Legion Color Guard.
Simon Comben (Ensign Patch) at Origins.
Peter Landry (Teaticket)
'Taps'
Day is done,
Gone the sun,
From the hills,
From the lake,
From the skies.
All is well,
Safely rest,
God is nigh
Go to sleep,
Peaceful sleep,
May the soldier
Or sailor,
God keep.
On the land
Or the deep,
Safe in sleep.
Love, good night,
Must thou go,
When the day,
And the night
Need thee so?
All is well.
Speedeth all
To their rest.
Fades the light;
And afar
Goeth day,
And the stars
Shineth bright,
Fare thee well,
Day has gone,
Night is on.
Thanks and praise,
For our days.
'Neath the sun,
'Neath the stars,
'Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh.
For the Fallen
BY LAURENCE BINYON
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
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.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
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A toast to all of our friends.
Peace and blue skies. 
That looked like a moving tribute to Harry.
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