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.

The sun shining down on these green fields of France
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance
The trenches have vanished long under the plow
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard that's still no mans land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation were butchered and damned

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

And I can't help but wonder oh Willy McBride
Do all those who lie here know why they died
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause
Did you really believe that this war would end wars
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing and dying it was all done in vain
Oh Willy McBride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again

- Dropkick Murphys, The Green Fields of France

During the superb Ken Burns documentary, The War, there were many moments in the series that were both inspiring and horrifying. One of the more sobering facts that deserve to be pondered is that every day 1,000 World War II veterans die.

This August my father joined the ranks of those old soldiers that quietly faded away. At my suggestion, he was buried with honors in a national military cemetery in Dayton, Ohio. When the flag was folded and "Taps" as was played by a Navy bugler, I stood and saluted my father's casket. The flag was presented to my younger brother who was named after my father. It was a grand moment of respect for a man who did his duty and served his country.

On the drive home I told my wife that when I pass on that I would also like to be buried in a national cemetery. I look forward to returning there later this month to see my father's headstone. I expect I will be a bit saddened, but happy that he is finally at rest and no longer suffering.

No matter what our political affiliation or beliefs we should all be grateful to those courageous men and women who gave of themselves so that we can enjoy living in a great and free country.

It'll be a rough day for the living veterans up here. I won't blame them if they decide not to parade, especially my brother. He's on in years now, and though off in another state with probably another kind of weather, if he decides to stay home with hot tea and memories, that's fine by me.

It really does not matter what the politics of war turn out to be. It's still war, and those who have fought and lived need to be honored. That's what this day is for. Memorial Day is for those who fought and died. We need to remember both sides of that infernal equation.

Today is for the living. Honor them and take care of them when in need. Too many go homeless, too many need psych help, too many need medical attention, too many, too many . . .

Buy a Buddy Poppy, thank a veteran, remember that politicians like to forget about them after the work is done. Don't let the politicians get away with it.

I think the best way to honour veterans is to make sure they don't end up homeless, desitute and dying in the street.

The nation honors its brave men and women in arms; but few would envy them in their service. To fight for king and country is a noble end, but few end nobly in its cause. What sane person would trade peace and liberty for the drummed discipline of barracks life? The bright days of parade pass in review to the blood-spattered battlefield where row upon row march to their death. What good then are soldiers but cannon fodder? For what cause did they fight and for whose honor did they die? How soon their glory fades.

The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

- Abe Lincoln

We weren't just tokens or pretty faces,
to decorate your offices and platoons;
we weren't dumb, too plain or too stupid
to make it in the real world.

We've marched your muddy roads,
carried and shot your heavy guns.
We've been shot at, wounded, and died,
and been prisoners of war.

We've been active in all services,
and risen to high ranks.
We've tended your bleeding wounds,
and held you when you were dying.

We've flown your mighty airplanes
and naviated your giant ships.
We've fixed your broken engines
and driven heavy equipment.

We've mailed letters for you,
and brought you news from home.
We've stood along side of you,
without flinching or running away,
and continue to stand by you today.

We are not asking for special treatment,
or that you should go out of your way.
We're only asking that you recognize
that women are veterans, too.

- Lynda K. Dokken USMC 1966-67