Barbara J. Hamby

sign-up for our email list

In Flanders Fields - August 21, 2005

Flanders Fields - August 21, 2005

In Flanders Fields

By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

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.

We arrived at Leebrugge on Sunday morning and, after breakfast, boarded a bus for Flanders Fields. It was a relatively short ride to the cemeteries and museum near the small town of Ypres.

The guide on this excursion, Raymond, spoke English well and was the best one we had on the whole British Isles Cruise, in our opinion. Raymond gave us an abbreviated history of World War I and took us through exhibits and video reproductions in the museum. The exhibits graphically illustrated the horrors of war, the special grimness of that particular war, and the hope that it was “the war to end all wars.” Some of the boys who fought there may have been in schoolyard fistfights, but had never even imagined battles of the magnitude they encountered.

The flowers in the cemeteries were lovely although, of course, poppy season was over. Rose bushes were prevalent and blooming profusely and fragrantly among many other types of flowers, some familiar, some strange. The lovely pinks, reds and yellows contrasted with the stark rows of identical white crosses.

A separate area had been set aside for burial of Americans who died there. Raymond told Al and me, as we strolled among the grave sites, that older Belgians were still grateful to America for the help we gave them in World War I and during the influenza epidemic.

We were given a booklet to take home with excerpts from the letters and journals of soldiers on both sides of the battle. According to these stories, it was an ugly war with a few good moments. The use of mustard gas left many of the young men who survived in poor health for the rest of their lives.

As in all wars, even today, soldiers lost limbs and eyes. The author of the poem above was a surgeon operating in a field of blood and gore. He took a fifteen-minute break and wrote the immortal verse.

Near the holidays in 1914, the front lines were very close together. Fighting men (many of whom were young boys actually) on both sides stopped shooting to share fruit, cigarettes and wine.

My parents were children during the years of World War I and probably didn’t hear much about it until later because of the limited communication of that time.

Being back in that place and that time caused me to wonder, once again, about the why of war. My thoughts were somber as we returned to the 21st century and the ship where we had lunch and a nap.

Around dinnertime, we left Leebrugge, traveling through the North Sea on a course for Rotterdam.

After dinner, Al took in a magic show that he said was excellent. I went to see Uber Rossi, comedian and acrobat, who seemed to have no bones as he twisted himself into pretzel shapes and bounded all over the stage. He tossed stand-up jokes between acrobatic feats and was very entertaining. The tone of his show was perfect for lightening my mood.

The size of the Golden Princess and its age (almost new) both contributed to the smooth journey we enjoyed. While we slept, we traveled to our next port.