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.
This entreaty, written during World War I, symbolizes the debt we all owe to our departed veterans. The picture above was taken at Phoenix's Greenwood Cemetery on a Memorial Day.
As you read this, soldiers of the 3rd Infantry "Old Guard" maintain their vigil at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Washington DC. They represent us in respect 24 hours a day, rain, shine, sleet, snow - it doesn't matter. I took this picture last September; the guard was changing.
This is a portion of Arlington National Cemetery.
I have personally known a Spanish American War veteran, a couple of veterans of the 1st World War, many WWII veterans, Korean War veterans, and many, many Vietnam vets. I have also made acquaintances with a number of Gulf War and Afghanistan veterans. I lost two good friends in Vietnam.
Sadly, the ones who gave the most - the last full measure of devotion, are no longer with us. On Monday, we honor them. I personally will go to Arizona's Vietnam Memorial to lay flowers beneath the names of my friends who perished in that war. I'm taking a widow of a WWII combat veteran with me, and we will have lunch and then toast to departed veterans of all our wars. I hope each of you will be able to do something similar, or at least pause on Monday to give silent thanks to those who died that we may live in freedom.
John
"Hymn to the Fallen" by John Williams
(Go full screen here. You may recognize the beautiful music from "Saving Private Ryan.")
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) I listened to him tell about his war adventures. He was a drummer boy and had been through a couple of battles until he was wounded and sent home. I have no idea of his age but he did say he was 10 when he was a drummer. I've thought about it since then and the numbers work out. This meeting was in 1957 (or so), add 10 subtract 100 gets us to 1867, so if he was over 102 years old, it would have been possible. Memorial Day is a day I remember all the vets I didn't know who failed to return. The ones I knew I remember every day.
