Posted on 05/27/2016 9:57:43 AM PDT by Biggirl
In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army
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.
Break faith as in Population to surge will change the face of England forever'?
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/3434494/posts
I posted this poem a few days before Memorial Day and after Mr. Obama’s speech in Japan.
July will be the 100th. anniversary of the Somme, the epic battle where in one day over 90,000 killed/wounded.
Thanks much for the memories and tears.
Dad was WW11 vet and I was allowed to “help” him prep for Memorial Day services. Haven’t even thought of that poem for too long.
Thank you for the post. I tweeted the link.
Lest we forget.....
A certain amount of survivor’s guilt can be a good thing. Have felt it since Vietnam. Reminds me that there are only a few truly important things in life.
The Kardashians aren’t among them.
Tuesday is the 100th Anniversary of Jutland. Not Flanders fileds, but still the greatest surface fleet engagement ever fought.
There are many who, with good heart but some confusion, fail to differentiate between Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day.
The USofA Memorial Day grew out of the Decoration Day tradition that got started in 1866-68 to honor the US Civil War dead. While this was done around this time by both Union and Confederate veteran organizations and supporters, it was, as these soldiers succumbed to age, gradually morphed into its current name of Memorial Day and codified as a Federal Holiday in 1967. The next year, its official celebration was moved to the last Monday in May to make a holiday weekend.
So MEMORIAL Day is the day to HONOR our Fallen. At the very least, we need to set aside some time to mentally thank them for their sacrifice!
Veteran’s Day grew out of the end of World War One (WW1) and the 11th Day of the 11th Month, Armistice Day. Because of its antecedent, this is far more than just a single country holiday as it is celebrated by the British Commonwealth, France and Belgium as a day to honor their military dead. In the USofA, it is the day to honor all of our military, living and dead. Many places around the country still have parades with the Veterans and active duty participating.
FYI: In the British Commonwealth, there is also “Remembrance Sunday” which is the nearest Sunday to November 11th and on both days it is the tradition to wear a red poppy flower!
German trenches at La Boiselle under British artillery bombardment on 1 July 1916. Comprising the main Allied attack on the Western Front during 1916, the Battle of the Somme is famous chiefly on account of the loss of 58,000 British troops (one third of them killed) on the first day of the battle, 1 July 1916,
http://firstworldwar.com/battles/somme.htm
Rudyard Kipling
“Hymn Before Action”
1896
The earth is full of anger,
The seas are dark with wrath,
The Nations in their harness
Go up against our path:
Ere yet we loose the legions —
Ere yet we draw the blade,
Jehovah of the Thunders,
Lord God of Battles, aid!
High lust and froward bearing,
Proud heart, rebellious brow —
Deaf ear and soul uncaring,
We seek Thy mercy now!
The sinner that forswore Thee,
The fool that passed Thee by,
Our times are known before Thee —
Lord, grant us strength to die!
For those who kneel beside us
At altars not Thine own,
Who lack the lights that guide us,
Lord, let their faith atone!
If wrong we did to call them,
By honour bound they came;
Let not Thy Wrath befall them,
But deal to us the blame.
From panic, pride, and terror
Revenge that knows no rein —
Light haste and lawless error,
Protect us yet again,
Cloke Thou our undeserving,
Make firm the shuddering breath,
In silence and unswerving
To taste Thy lesser death.
Ah, Mary pierced with sorrow,
Remember, reach and save
The soul that comes to-morrow
Before the God that gave!
Since each was born of woman,
For each at utter need —
True comrade and true foeman —
Madonna, intercede!
E’en now their vanguard gathers,
E’en now we face the fray —
As Thou didst help our fathers,
Help Thou our host to-day.
Fulfilled of signs and wonders,
In life, in death made clear —
Jehovah of the Thunders,
Lord God of Battles, hear!
There’s also a story about the publication of the poppy poem. The medical officer who wrote it thought it was unworthy in light of all the suffering around them. He threw it in the waste basket but his sergeant fished it out. Later a famous British newspaper rejected it and earned eternal notoriety for doing so, but the poem was eventually published.
Thank you for posting this, Biggie. It is such a refreshing post after all the ones of our Appeaser-in-Chief’s Apology Tour ones these last few days.
Always Remember. Never Forget.
Here it is, properly delineated:
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.
My Grandfather was a driver-gunner with the Canadian Artillery at the Somme. Gassed , Grandfather was sent to recover in England where he met and married my Grandmother. In 1918 he volunteered to go to Russia , years later telling my Mother, “Nothing could be as bad a France”.
After fighting the Bolsheviks on the Vaga and Dvina rivers the Canadians left Archangelin the summer of 1919.
The US sent the “American North Russia Expeditionary Force” (a.k.a. the Polar Bear Expedition)
"Has any one else had word of him?"
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
"Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?"
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind---
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide.
*Although published as a prelude to "Sea Warfare" this poem was as much about his own son, John Kipling, who was killed in action in September 1915, as for the "Jack Tars" of the Royal Navy.
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