"In Flanders Fields," the Story of Major John McCrae

This post was originally published here on May 27, 2007.  I first read the poem in my sophomore year of high school, and it's impact has stayed with me for more than half a century.  I am reposting it for Memorial Day 2015.

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I have always loved the poem "In Flanders Fields," written by Canadian officer John McCrae in World War I. (Flanders is a section of Belgium).  I found his story at the website of Arlington National Cemetery. Here it is.

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McCrae's "In Flanders Fields" remains to this day one of the most memorable war poems ever written. It is a lasting legacy of the terrible battle in the Ypres salient in the spring of 1915. Here is the story of the making of that poem:

Although he had been a doctor for years and had served in the South African War, it was impossible to get used to the suffering, the screams, and the blood here, and Major John McCrae had seen and heard enough in his dressing station to last him a lifetime.

As a surgeon attached to the 1st Field Artillery Brigade, Major McCrae, who had joined the McGill faculty in 1900 after graduating from the University of Toronto, had spent seventeen days treating injured men -- Canadians, British, Indians, French, and Germans -- in the Ypres salient.

It had been an ordeal that he had hardly thought possible. McCrae later wrote of it:
"I wish I could embody on paper some of the varied sensations of that seventeen days... Seventeen days of Hades! At the end of the first day if anyone had told us we had to spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands and said it could not have been done."

One death particularly affected McCrae. A young friend and former student, Lieut. Alexis Helmer of Ottawa, had been killed by a shell burst on 2 May 1915. Lieutenant Helmer was buried later that day in the little cemetery outside McCrae's dressing station, and McCrae had performed the funeral ceremony in the absence of the chaplain.

The next day, sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near the dressing station beside the Canal de l'Yser, just a few hundred yards north of Ypres, McCrae vented his anguish by composing a poem. The major was no stranger to writing, having authored several medical texts besides dabbling in poetry.

In the nearby cemetery, McCrae could see the wild poppies that sprang up in the ditches in that part of Europe, and he spent twenty minutes of precious rest time scribbling fifteen lines of verse in a notebook.

A young soldier watched him write it. Cyril Allinson, a twenty-two year old sergeant-major, was delivering mail that day when he spotted McCrae. The major looked up as Allinson approached, then went on writing while the sergeant-major stood there quietly. "His face was very tired but calm as we wrote," Allinson recalled. "He looked around from time to time, his eyes straying to Helmer's grave."

When McCrae finished five minutes later, he took his mail from Allinson and, without saying a word, handed his pad to the young NCO. Allinson was moved by what he read:

"The poem was exactly an exact description of the scene in front of us both. He used the word blow in that line because the poppies actually were being blown that morning by a gentle east wind. It never occurred to me at that time that it would ever be published. It seemed to me just an exact description of the scene."

In fact, it was very nearly not published. Dissatisfied with it, McCrae tossed the poem away, but a fellow officer retrieved it and sent it to newspapers in England. The Spectator, in London, rejected it, but Punch published it on 8 December 1915.

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Stogie again. Red poppies are flowers whose seeds can remain dormant for years, and are activated into germination when the earth is broken or turned. When the soldiers in Belgium began burying their dead, there was a lot of freshly turned earth. In a few days the fresh graves were ablaze with the red poppies, as if God Himself had decorated the graves.

Because of this, the red poppy became a symbol of Memorial Day and for many years was worn by many to remember the war dead. This is an old tradition we should work to revive.

Here is McCrae's famous and beautiful poem, written 100 years ago this month, on May 3, 1915:

IN FLANDERS FIELDS

Maj. John McCrae (1872-1918)

.....

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.

D-DAY REMEMBERED: 68 YEARS AGO TODAY

I created this image from an actual modern photograph of Omaha Beach, with overlaid figures of actual American soldiers who landed there 68 years ago today. D-Day was one of the bloodiest and costliest battles in American war history. We should never forget those who died there.

Better Men Than I: Memorial Day 2012

The men above, and many thousands like them, are better men than I. I never served my country, never went in harm's way. I regret that. For most of my life my eyesight was horrible, up until I had lasic surgery late in life.  My childhood dream of serving in the US Navy was never to be realized.

The military cemetery featured above is one at Cambridge, England, where 3,812 American casualties of World War II are buried.  Superimposed are the images of Americans (and one Canadian) who died in war.  They are, top, left to right:

Alan Seeger was a Harvard Graduate, Class of 1910, who wrote stunning poetry, including the famous war poem "I Have a Rendezvous With Death."  He joined the French Foreign Legion to fight in World War I. He was killed on July 4, 1916 by German machine gun fire as his French Foreign Legion unit charged German positions near Belloy-En-Santerre, France.

General George S. Patton was an aggressive American general in World War II who won many victories for the allies.  My Uncle served under his command, as a private and medic in the 2nd Armored Division.  Patton was killed in December 1945, just after the war had ended, in a jeep accident.

Doris Miller, a Navy sailor and cook, was a crew member of the USS West Virginia at Pearl Harbor when the Japanese attacked on December 7, 1941.  As Japanese planes dove all around the ship, dropping torpedoes and bombs, Miller found a loaded machine gun that had been dropped on the deck.  He picked it up and began firing at the Japanese planes, possibly downing one, until he ran out of ammunition.  Cited for his bravery in the heat of battle, Miller was awarded the Navy Cross.  He was killed in action later in the war.

John McCrae, a Canadian officer in Europe during World War I, was a surgeon who treated the wounded in the Flanders section of Belgium.  Outside of his dressing station was a makeshift cemetery where red poppies naturally sprouted in the freshly overturned soil of the graves.  McCrae was inspired to write possibly the most famous war poem of all time, "In Flanders Fields."  McCrae later died of pneumonia before the war's end.

Pat Tillman, a professional football player who abandoned a lucrative sports contract to serve his country, died in Afghanistan by "friendly fire."  Pat's father was my youngest son's coach in Pony League baseball in Almaden Valley in 1993-94, and I saw Pat once at one of the practices.

William E Shipp, a lieutenant in the US Army, served with the Tenth Cavalry during the Spanish-American War.  He was killed in the charge up San Juan Hill on July 1, 1898.

Nathan Hale, Captain in the Continental Army, served in the Revolutionary War for American independence.  He was hanged by the British as a spy on September 22, 1776.  Reportedly his last words were "I regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."

John  Morreale, Staff Sergeant in the US Airforce in WW II, was a radio operator with a 10-man crew flying a Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress.  He was one of the men who flew combat missions from bases in England to Germany, bombing Nazi munitions factories, railroad yards, and submarine pens in preparation for the June 6 invasion.  His bomber the "Fancy Nancy III" was shot down over Brunswick, Germany on January 30, 1944.  Five members of the crew were able to bail out before the plane crashed.  Unfortunately, Sgt Morreale was not one of them.

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These are but a very small few of the American and allied heroes who gave their lives in war.  Each of the thousands of white crosses in military cemeteries around the world represents one precious human life.

They gave all of their tomorrows for all of our todays.  Let us never forget what their lives have bequeathed.

Memorial Day: the Vietnam Wall

With thanks to Larry Bovshow

Photoshopping the War Dead: Stogie Retouches Another Sailor Pic

Yesterday I heard that Photoshop CS4 has just been released for sale. I immediately went online, paid $200 for the upgrade, and downloaded it. I just hope my wife doesn't check our bank statement for awhile - but I had to have it. There's two things a man needs in this old world, a stash of good cigars and the latest version of Photoshop. That philosophy has served me well and I'm not about to change.

CS4 is very cool and even easier to use that CS3. I went to oneternalpatrol.com and downloaded another sailor's picture in need of some work. This time I chose that of a very handsome guy (we have so much in common) named John Joseph Carano. Carano was from Akron, Ohio and was killed on November 7, 1944 when his sub, the SS Albacore, hit a mine off Northern Japan. He was only 18 years old.

Carano is wearing an old-style Navy hat. These hats were all wool, Navy blue and had a black ribbon that ran around the base with gold lettering that said "U.S. NAVY." These were winter wear hats; the white dixiecup hats were used in the summer and are now used exclusively.

I wanted to buy one of these blue sailor hats for a souvenir and to use as a model for Photoshopping sailor pics, but I couldn't find anywhere I could buy one -- not even a reproduction. But I found one on E-Bay and bought it very cheap, along with the sailor's uniform who owned it.

I've put a higher quality photo of another sailor on this post as well (see bottom photo), a sailor named Boo who died on the SS Grunion so you can see what these hats looked like. I think they were quite handsome.

.Update: I did some online research and learned that these hats were officially known as "flat hats" and unofficially as "Donald Duck" or "Cracker Jack" hats, as Donald Duck wore one and one was featured on the Cracker Jack box. They originated in the Civil War and for years bore the name of the ship on which the wearer served. In 1941 the Navy realized that it was stupid to advertise the whereabouts of their ships, so all hat ribbons were changed to simply bear the name "U.S. NAVY." The hat was phased out in 1963 due to a lack of materials for construction.

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Currently the U.S. Navy plans to replace its traditional blues and whites for a common-looking khaki uniform that resembles that of the Army. The white dixiecup hats will be replaced with garrison hats. The last time they messed with the Navy uniform it was devastating to morale (in the 1970's) and they changed back to the traditional Cracker Jack uniform in 1983. But the brass hats never learn. The traditional Navy uniform has made the American sailor unique and a stand-out in his appearance and has added to the mystique of the U.S. Navy. Let's hope they don't make the same stupid mistake again.

I found a couple of Militaria sites online that sell the Donald Duck hat and I ordered a second one. I guess I had better buy a dixiecup too, while I still can.

Maybe the Obamunists are right: our best times really are behind us.