In Flanders Fields, the poppies blow

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.  

     This poem — that I first learned in school — had special meaning for me, when, a few years ago, Nels and I were travelling on a bus tour through Flanders Field, Belgium. We actually saw the poppies blooming there! 
     It remains a poignant reminder of the awful horrors that war brings. It was written by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae M.D., during the terrible battle in the Ypres salient (in Belgium), in the spring of 1915. 
     

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae M.D 1914

     How it came to be written is quite interesting. McCrae, as acting surgeon, was attached to the First Field Artillery Brigade. He was part of the McGill faculty in 1900, after graduating from the University of Toronto. 
     In this assignment, he had spent 17 days treating injured men. He wrote of the ordeal: 
"I wish I could embody on paper some of the varied sensations of that seventeen days... seventeen days of Hades!" 
     One death that particularly affected McCrae was a young friend and former student from Ottawa, as he took part in his burial, in the cemetery nearby. 
     The next day, while sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near his dressing station, McCrae vented his anguish by composing this poem. 
     

     While overlooking his friend's grave, he could see the wild poppies that spring up in that part of Europe, being blown by a gentle east wind. 
     After spending 20 minutes of precious rest time scribbling 15 lines, dissatisfied with it, he tossed it away. A fellow officer later retrieved it, sending it to newspapers in England. It was published December 8, 1915.    
     As the Second World War was declared that September, 1939, I distinctly remember the dark clouds of fear and gloom that hovered over our community. 
     Everyone rallied, wanting to do their part. To aid the war effort, my dad went off to Goose Bay, Labrador, to help build airstrips. 
     

     Nels, as a young lad of 20, joined the R.C.A.F., and was posted to a base at Patricia Bay, near Victoria, B.C. 

     When his unit was transferred to the Aleutian Islands, he remained at Patricia Bay, because of his specialized training as an aero-electrician, teaching future pilots flying skills on link trainers.

     

     His oldest brother, Basil, however, did get to serve overseas as a Lieutenant, with the Field Artillery Regiment in England. 

     McCrae's poem inspired Moina Michael, an American college professor, to write her own poem to those lying in Flanders Fields, entitled, We Shall Keep the Faith (1915). 

     



The concluding stanza of her poem declares:  

And now the Torch and Poppy Red, 

We wear in honour of our dead. 

Fear not that ye have died for naught; 

We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought in Flanders Field.    

Let's proudly wear our red poppy, not only as a sign of remembrance, but as an emblem for keeping the faith with all who died for our freedoms.   

— beulah