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.

These words were penned immediately following a horrific battle in World War I. They were penned not by a poet, but by a medial officer who had just endured 17 days of horror culminating in the death of a young soldier who had been one of his students before the war. McCrae actually crumpled it up and tossed it away, thinking it wasn’t very good. A young Sergeant Major picked it up and was so moved that he sent it to two newspapers in England.

This morning let us pause and examine ourselves to see if we have lived worthy lives, worthy of the sacrifice of the millions who died so that we could live in freedom.

LCDR Jim Jenkins, CHC, USN
May 25, 2007