Veteran's Day

I love this holiday, as sorrowful as it is, because it asks each of us to remember those who fought and died, or suffered wounds, both the physical and emotional, in service to their country.  Being from an immigrant family that fled Europe during World War II, my parents made sure I understood what that entailed.  But that war that happened before I was born was history for me.  Veteran's Day has become much different and more personal since I lost one of my dear friends and college mates, Major David G. Taylor Jr., who was killed fighting in Iraq in October 2006. I miss him terribly still, and his wife Michelle and son Jake are always in my thoughts and prayers.  David's funeral occurred close to Veteran's Day, and all of us who attended received the traditional red poppy to wear, and the famous poem, "In Flanders Fields" was read at the service.   I never knew exactly where the poppy tradition came from until then.  The poem is beautiful, but tough if you have raw grief, or even grief that is still right there seven years later.  But I still like to read it as a tribute to my friend and all those I did not know.   Here it is for you, a Veteran's Day gift, with a short explanation on the history of the poem.

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
In Flanders fields.

 

--John McCrae

John McCrae was a poet and physician from Guelph, Ontario. He developed an interest in poetry at a young age and wrote throughout his life  McCrae fought in the second battle of Ypres in the Flanders region of Belgium where the German army launched one of the first chemical attacks in the history of war. They attacked the Canadian position with chlorine gas on April 22, 1915, but were unable to break through the Canadian line which held for over two weeks. In a letter written to his mother, McCrae described the battle as a "nightmare": "For seventeen days and seventeen nights none of us have had our clothes off, nor our boots even, except occasionally. In all that time while I was awake, gunfire and rifle fire never ceased for sixty seconds ..... And behind it all was the constant background of the sights of the dead, the wounded, the maimed, and a terrible anxiety lest the line should give way." Alexis Helmer, a close friend, was killed during the battle on May 2. McCrae performed the burial service himself, at which time he noted how poppies quickly grew around the graves of those who died at Ypres. The next day, he composed the poem while sitting in the back of an ambulance.