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In Flanders Fields

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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.


  • Jim_Holstun

    John McCrae’s poem is almost universally misunderstood. It doesn’t call for peace, love, and understanding, but for more dead Huns.

    Alas, this is all too common a sentiment in the US. We should care for veterans by caring for them, by not making more of them, subjecting them to PTSD and traumatic brain injury and shattered bodies for no good reason.

    And even on Veterans Day–particularly on Veterans Day–we should remember that other countries have veterans too, and quite a few dead civilians, killed by us, thus ensuring a ready supply of future foreign veterans-to-be, and American veterans-to-be, ad bloody infinitum.

    Exactly what prompts the “quarrel”?  Uh. . . . let me get back to you. Meanwhile, ready aim fire.

    • Who’s John  McCrae?    I thought this was an original work by Bedenko.     BTW, didn’t the Brits use  this poem to sell War Bonds?     War is just good business.

      We owe our veterans respect and decent care and benefits, no matter how heinous the “wars” we forced them to fight.    This is a communal national moral obligation.