In Flanders Fields

Poppies

Yesterday was Veterans Day. I started the day by reading In Flanders Fields to my students. Most of them heard the poem in high school, although not all. I know my voice choked up as I read this beautiful poem which is read all over Great Britain on this day.

As a kid, I remember making paper poppies and wearing them. Of course, I doubt I knew much about the remembrance, but I loved making those poppies. There are groups that still make them and hand them out. Most folks in Britain wear the poppies on this day.

Lieutenant John McCrae was a Canadian doctor who decided he should be serving in WW1. He left his own practice and worked at a hospital on the front lines in Belgium. After the huge losses on the battlefield, McCrae wrote the poem. There were 150,000 known dead on Flanders Field.

“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.”

McCrae was moved greatly by the battle and all the dead, but it was his own friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer who was the recipient of the poem. He wrote the poem on a scrap of paper in the back of a medical field ambulance at his funeral.

“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.”

Later on, McCrae was not happy with the poem and he threw it away. Luckily a fellow soldier saw him do that and retrieved it. Eventually it was first published in London’s Punch Magazine in December, 1915. It was published anonymously. After it was published, it was soon known to be McCrae’s work and has been read on Veteran’s Day ever since. I had to learn the poem when I was in elementary school, and as I said, I don’t think I really knew what it meant. Do I now understand? I don’t think so.

“Take up our quarrel with the foe: to you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold it high.”

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae continued to care for the wounded and bury the dead until he became ill himself in 1918. He died of pneumonia in line of duty. I would imagine his own poem was read at his funeral.

Flanders Fields is a tourist attraction now as with so many other historical battlefields. It is important that we travel and go see where history took place. While there you can visit the War Museum, American Cemetery, and the John McCrae Dressing Station WW1 and honor him, and read his poem where it was written.

My own grandfather, Walter F. Rhoads, was stationed overseas during the first World War. After his death at 94 in 1989, my mother sent me his army trunk. I was thrilled that she was sending it to me.

After the death of my grandmother and grandfather, my mom gifted the quilts that were lovingly made by my grandmother and great-grandmother. These quilts are so precious to me, and I treasure them.

The trunk from my grandfather is different. I was so looking forward to opening it when it arrived. It is large and drab olive. My grandfather’s name, Walter F. Rhoads, is stenciled on the front. I could only imagine the treasures I would find in the trunk: his helmet, his work papers, a jacket, a book, a magazine, a letter from back home. When I opened the trunk, it was empty. I was so disappointed, until much later. I began to think about that empty trunk. Was there actually a gift in the emptiness?

Throughout his life, he never spoke of the war…not ever. I wanted to know the stories, but he ignored those conversations. Perhaps leaving me an empty trunk was his gift to me of not wanting me to know the horrors of war.

The trunk sits neatly in the back of my garage. It is never disturbed, much like a tomb itself. It is always there when I get tools or paint cans out of the garage. It is then I remember him, not just on this day. Wear the poppies, read the poem, say a prayer of thankfulness in the holy darkness.

“If ye break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders Fields.”

 

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