Poppies

Poppies. . Since World War I, the poppy has stood as a symbol of remembrance and pledge to never forget all who have fallen in war and military operations. , Prior to World War I, few poppies grew in the fields of Flanders which were located in Belgium and France. During the tremendous bombardments in this area, the chalk soils became rich in lime from rubble, allowing poppies to thrive. , The person who was more responsible than any other for the adoption of the poppy as a symbol of remembrance was Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, a doctor serving with Canadian allied forces in Belgium during world war one. On 2 May 1915, sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near the dressing station after the death of a personal friend and former student who had been killed by a shell burst, McCrae vented his anguish by composing a poem. In the nearby cemetery, he could see the wild poppies that sprang up in the ditches. He spent 20 minutes scribbling 15 lines of verse in a notebook. A young soldier, delivering mail, watched him write. When McCrae finished, he took his mail and handed his pad to the soldier. Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae died while serving his country in France on January 28, 1918. He was 45 years old. Today, this poem is one of the most memorable war poems ever written. , An American teacher, Moina Michael, while working at the YMCA Overseas War Secretaries’ headquarters in New York City in November 1918, read John McCrae's poem In Flanders Fields which had been first published in a British magazine. She immediately made a personal pledge to keep the faith and vowed always to wear a red poppy of Flanders as a sign of remembrance and as an emblem for keeping the faith with all who died. On Veterans and Memorial Day of each year, military veterans organizations in the United States distribute a crepe paper poppy as a symbol of remembrance and tribute to all their fallen comrades. May we never forget!, 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, 2 May 1915.