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.
”“Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
In thanksgiving for all those who gave their lives for this country in years past, and for those who continue to serve”“KSH.
P.S. The circumstances which led to this remarkable poem are well worth remembering:
It is a lasting legacy of the terrible battle in the Ypres salient in the spring of 1915 and to the war in general. McCrea had spent seventeen days treating injured men — Canadians, British, French, and Germans in the Ypres salient. McCrae later wrote: “I wish I could embody on paper some of the varied sensations of that seventeen days… Seventeen days of Hades! At the end of the first day if anyone had told us we had to spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands and said it could not have been done.” The next day McCrae witnessed the burial of a good friend, Lieut. Alexis Helmer. Later that day, sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near the field dressing station, McCrea composed the poem. A young NCO, delivering mail, watched him write it. When McCrae finished writing, he took his mail from the soldier and, without saying a word, handed his pad to the Sergeant-major. Cyril Allinson was moved by what he read: “The poem was exactly an exact description of the scene in front of us both. He used the word blow in that line because the poppies actually were being blown that morning by a gentle east wind. It never occurred to me at that time that it would ever be published. It seemed to me just an exact description of the scene.” Colonel McCrae was dissatisfied with the poem, and tossed it away. A fellow officer retrieved it and sent it to newspapers in England. The Spectator, in London, rejected it, but Punch published it on 8 December 1915. For his contributions as a surgeon, the main street in Wimereaux is named “Rue McCrae”.
Thanks, Kendall.
I’m glad you have the custom of reminding us all of this immortal poem every year on Veteran’s Day. This day, I’m thinking especially of my maternal grandfather, Gail B. Braithwaite, who served in France in the war that was supposed to end all wars. Although he survived the war, he was wounded by shrapnel, and never fully recovered, but shuffled for the rest of his life, unable to walk normally. Yet he never complained. I miss him.
David Handy+
There will be the beauty of Flanders Poppies in my gardens as long as I am able to have a garden…and beyond that because they so generously reseed. I grew up with the poem ringing in my ears; it is a reminder to me that no one wins a war. Growing the poppies is a safe and silent way for me to remember the veterans…living and dead; my husband is a “pacifist”. Never, never, never cross a pacifist!
I am a former Army officer and my father-in-law is a retired USAF officer. Honestly, I never gave a great deal of thought to Veteran’s Day until this year, my son’s first as a member of the USAF. May God bless and keep him and all who serve. Please keep our wounded servicemen and their families in your prayers. For many, the future is bleak indeed.