At the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month of 1918, the guns of August 1914 finally fell silent. Some of the most eleoquent words that help us remember this day were written by Laurence Binyon, in his poem The Fallen:

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.