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 Alexander McCrae (1872-1918)

This page is a memorial not only to American soldiers, but to all the men and women who have fallen in battle all back through the centuries, fighting for what they thought was right, fighting when there was no hope, hoping that their sacrifice would make a difference.

Let us not forget them--ever.