In Flanders Fields the Poppies Grow.

History | UNK | Joel McCrea

[Little Bill]

In Flanders Fields

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

Flanders fields.

[Dubya]

In Flanders Fields By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army

[w_over_w]

Well this is a refreshing post . . . thanks.

Oh! and thank you for your family's service to our country.

[Terabitten]

Thought you might like this.

[1066AD]

The poem's author.

[SE Mom]

Oh my..my grandmother used to recite this poem to us on Veteran's Day...and we wept.

[Little Bill]

Canadian Scottish, The New Newfoundland Regiment, and the 42 "Rainbow Division", US of A. As my Great Uncle Leo said 'Billy, if I had any brains I would have hid in the woods like the frogs, Canadian Style, wounded Blois, 1918.

[1066AD]

Not to forget the Menin Gate memorial where the Last Post is still played daily.

[Mike Darancette]

Flanders: the flat farmland of Northern France and Belgium that ran red with blood 1914-1918.

France Either through the accident of Geography or political misadventure seems to historically be a battlefield.

[LonePalm]

My grandfather, David Ford, tried to join the US Army when the US entered WWI. He was an MD but was turned down as 'Not Physically Qualified'. He immediately went to the British consolate in Boston and offered to join the Royal Army Medical Corps. He was accepted and made a Captain. He served in Flanders in what would become something like a MASH unit during the Korean war.

One of the letters I found in papers from my Mom's estate was a letter of thanks from King George V and signed in his own hand. This is long before the day of automatic signers.

He was an amazing man. He graduated college before the Wright Brother's flew and lived long enough to listen to Neal Armstrong set down on the moon. He went blind at 75, just after I was born. He still managed to read over 1000 books AFTER going blind.

As regards the French, the signature block says it all.

Il n'y a pas d'honte être français. Il y a seulement l'honte dans rester de français.
(There is no shame in being French. There is only shame in staying French.)
LonePalm, le Républicain du verre cassé (The Broken Glass Republican)

[Little Bill]

Not many people get to know their Grand Parents, and talk to them, I was lucky as it seems you were. My Aunt died last year, the keeper of family secrets, My Great Great Grand Father received a Medal and a land grant from US Grant for service in the Indian wars, who knew, signed in his own hand, I want it, I am the eldest with the name.

That was an Ahole thing to say, by me.

[misharu]

Every Veteran's Day, the Women's Auxillary is outside my local grocery store selling hand-made "poppies". And every year I give what I can and hang them on my car from my rearview mirror until they are almost faded white.

Just my little contribution to remembrance of the sacrifice of Americans killed in action

(And my family has been lucky. In all the wars that someone of my lineage has fought in, from the Revolutionary War to Desert Storm, not one has been killed. Lucky, lucky, lucky.)

[Savage Beast]

In Flanders fields the poppies grew
Till up Muslims the crosses blew.

[misharu]

My Grandfather served in the Navy during the Spanish American War (USS Detroit) and then turned around and joined up for WWI. MUCH to the dismay of my Grandmother!! (My Mom still has the letter he sent to my Grandmother trying to mollify her!!)

[Petronski]

My most very favorite poem of all.

[Captain Rhino]

Your post makes me think of the photographs I have seen of the ossiary (repository of bones, hope I got the spelling right) that is part of the battle field at Verdun.

"GRASS" by Carl Sandburg

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work--
I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and the passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?

I am the grass.
Let me work.

[Little Bill]

That was a rather commie poem, even for Sandberg.

[Asfarastheeastisfromthewest...]

As one who lives a scant few miles away from the home of John McCrae (and now a museum), I've oft wondered how he would have felt about what Canadian politicians have allowed to become of the Canadian military.

[tet68]

Poppies grow best in turned soil, the thrown up ground
from the shell explosions and constant trenching provided
ideal growth. Also since the men spent most of their time
in narrow trenches, they were very aware of the sky and
the birds, larks etc.

King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry Bump.

[irish guard]

Brings back great memories for me. Every year in my hometown, they have a Vets Day ceremony. When my mother was in high school she had to recite that poem in front of the crowd. She used to tell it to us kids each November 11 and Memorial Day.

Thanks for that memory.

irish guard

[bvw]

Great poem. Life is a fleeting moment, we are decay and dust, feed for worms, the grass keeps no memory of us. All the great plans and movements of men -- the bravery, gallantry, honor, the brass bands or pipes at the march, the horrors, the boredom, the mud, the fevers, the rotten food, the awful punctuation of a silence when your buddy is blown through -- the grass keeps no book, no sign.

But we live to see those fields of lush grass at Gettysburg, or those seas of poppies in Flanders -- and WE remember it all. G-d bless them all and the grass too.