In Flanders Fields

#juan

#juan

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[SIZE=+4]In Flanders Fields[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]Canadian Army

[/SIZE] [SIZE=+1]IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]Between the crosses row on row,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]That mark our place; and in the sky[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]The larks, still bravely singing, fly[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]Scarce heard amid the guns below.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]We are the Dead. Short days ago[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]Loved and were loved, and now we lie[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]In Flanders fields.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]Take up our quarrel with the foe:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]To you from failing hands we throw[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]The torch; be yours to hold it high.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]If ye break faith with us who die[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]We shall not sleep, though poppies grow[/SIZE]
[SIZE=+1]In Flanders fields.[/SIZE]
 
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#juan

#juan

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That short poem written by a Canadian arm doctor pretty much says it all for Remembrance Day.
 
TenPenny

TenPenny

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Jun 9, 2004
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Location, Location
From the diary written my Grandfather's older brother. A typical day (he died in Oct 1916, age 24)

Sept 4th 1916
About 4 o'clock in the morning Bryson took 9 and 10 platoons up to the front to dig in across the open. He gets 9 to work all right. But it is breaking day when 10 gets up, and they have to go out in shell holes in front in the daylight, and have a large number of casualties. Cpl Rodgers is wounded. Cpl Miller and Mathews killed. Before this Sgt Fraser had been wounded. A shell burst in the midst of the platoon when going thru the quarry. Fowlie, [Paul?], and Collier are missing and I feel sure they were killed here. I remain in Park [Lane?] all day. Sergeant Marriott is killed and I'll have about eleven other casualties. In the afternoon I got orders from Major Peterman to have both platoons ready to march off at dusk. Later I get further orders to take No. 11 up to join [Mr B....] at dusk. Do so. Find where No. 9 platoon is without a guide and start No. 11 digging in line with them, as directed by Sergeant Finch with whom Bryson had left instructions. Then Mr. Bryson comes along and we collect the remnants of No. 10 out of the shell holes and start them digging on the left of No. 11, thus getting a complete line across. Unfortunately Fritz begins shelling us and we have part of the line cleared out. Sergeant Crowe is killed, also Pte. Hooper. Cpl MacLeod is wounded. And the two Hill boys both go out with shell shock. However, we get holes dug for most of the men and get them partly connected. I discover four more men of No. 10 under Cpl. Bentley between 11 and 9.
 
A

Avro

Time Out
Feb 12, 2007
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"To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high"

This portion is written on the wall in the Montreal Canadians dressing room.


America's Answer

R.W. Lillard


Rest ye in peace, ye Flanders dead
The fight that you so bravely led
We've taken up. And we will keep
True faith with you who lie asleep,
With each a cross to mark his bed,
And poppies blowing overhead,
When once his own life-blood ran red
So let your rest be sweet and deep
In Flanders Fields.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
The torch ye threw to us we caught,
Ten million hands will hold it high,
And freedom's light shall never die!
We've learned the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders' fields.
 
mt_pockets1000

mt_pockets1000

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Jun 22, 2006
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Here's my contribution to the fallen men and women....

The Visit

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I awoke on the 11th with the sky a deep dark gray[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Looking out my hotel window at a man across the way[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He was standing all alone by a dripping cenotaph[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]With the flag that he'd just lowered boldly flying at half mast [/FONT]


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I watched the scene before me playing out before my eyes[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A simple act of courtesy for those who gave their lives[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The man was just a shadow for the stage was set you see[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]To honor each last soldier not just the memory[/FONT]


 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I will always remember, I will never forget[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You fought for my freedom, now you have my respect[/FONT]


 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The blood red flag was billowing against the darkened skies[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A message of remembrance for the soldiers' sacrifice[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It looked as though the rain were tears falling all around[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As if their souls were crying, though I didn't hear a sound[/FONT]


 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I checked out sometime later and drove on up the road[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]To visit and old friend who called to say hello[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As we toasted our long friendship that has lasted all those years[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I couldn't help but think about the day the sky cried tears[/FONT]


 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I will always remember, I will never forget[/FONT]
 [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You fought for my freedom, now you have my respect[/FONT]
 
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#juan

#juan

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karrie said:
I saved this poem for 11AM. Thank you juan.
Click to expand...

Karrie I've heard or read Flanders Fields every year for at least fifty two of my sixty nine years. It seems as fresh and moving now as it did the first time I heard it.
 
lone wolf

lone wolf

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Nov 25, 2006
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In the bush near Sudbury
Without a doubt, In Flanders Fields captures the essence of the futility of war, the swiftness of random death and of the simple things we tend to overlook in our want for it all....

Lest We Forget

Every apprehensive breath
That’s sobbed its gasp of fear
Reminds me of the battlefield
Which still exists in here.
The dreams come much less often, now though …
…blanket-twisting yet,
With one or two too much like truth,
Lest We Forget.

Every self-defensive smack,
This poor ol’ wall’s absorbed,
Resounds on every battlefield,
In each too-crazy war.
The Chill comes much less often, but still …
…shaking, wakes me, yet.
As time goes by, each teardrop’s dried,
Lest We Forget…

…a little kid in some wasted land …. God, I …
…failed both of us that day, as I …
…hid behind dark sunglasses,
Under a Blue Beret.
Now … it never goes away.

Every self-defacing scar,
Carved in great escapes
From out-of-body battlefields,
In moments of no wait
Are tears. They fall less often though still …
…pillow-drenchers, yet.
As dreams come by, less make me cry
Lest We Forget

17 Sep 1994
 
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