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.

 

---

Though he didn’t die in service to our country, since 2003, I’ve taken this day to remember my grandfather. This year, I’m lighting another candle for my great-grandfather who died in 1929 as a result of complications due to his service in WWI, leaving Grandma Flora with a lot of kids, the youngest two just barely past toddling. One of those, was my grandfather.

Forever in my heart, Wilfred John Martindale – Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders (prv. BlackWatch).