In Flanders Fields
John McCrae, 1915.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
We spent our morning remembering friends and family at the local Veterans Memorial in Boca Raton. I hope that wherever you are, you remembered those who have given all for their country. Below are some images from today, and an expert from the self-published 'History and Rhymes of the Lost Battalion' by 'Buck Private' McCollum (a cousin of my father and survivor of the Lost Battalion in WWI).
'From two short words, "Up There" we glean,
All that war can really mean,
Sounds perhaps not much to you,
Entire volume, what we've been thru.
Telling many brave and daring tale,
Of Chateau-Thierry and the Vesle,
Of Argonne Woods, that death-strewn hell,
Where hordes of our brave comrades fell.
Who gave their all, as men have done
Ever since wars first begun,
Their blood enriching vale or hill,
Patriot's promise, or God's will.
They fell for a cause just and true,
Undying tribute is their due,
"God rest their souls," our humble prayer,
For all who gave their all - "Up There."'
