Nov 11

CanuckMA

Master of Arts
Joined
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Toronto
A debt owed must be repaid.

To all of those who wore the uniform in so many wars past and present, Thank You

To all of those who never came back, the unpayable debt will be remembered.

To the young men who in early 1945 opened the gates of hell and bore witness to atrocities unmentionable My family owes you to ultimate debt, life itself. You will be remembered, from generation to generation. You will never be forgotten.
 

Kacey

Sr. Grandmaster
MTS Alumni
Joined
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Denver, CO
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.

— Lt.-Col. John McCrae

:asian:
 

Gordon Nore

Senior Master
Joined
May 26, 2007
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Thank you, Kacey. We read that poem every year in our schools.

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.

Lt.-Col. John McCrae

:asian:
 

Nomad

Master Black Belt
Joined
May 23, 2006
Messages
1,206
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54
Location
San Diego, CA
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.

Lt.-Col. John McCrae

:asian:

Darn it Kacey... you beat me to it. Thank you.
 
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