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Ercille I. Christmas
“In Flanders Field”: Memorial Day 2009
May 22, 2009
On Mother’s Day, May 10, 2009, I decided to pay tribute to the fallen heroes of our military by soliciting stories from relatives and friends of some of those heroes. The responses started coming in about half an hour later – a virtual vault of priceless, precious memories.
Patriot Evie urged:
“Start your article with this, – I had to memorize this poem when I was in the fourth or fifth grade.. it is awesome...”
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.
I received this gem from Patriot Dayna:
“Ercille...a few years ago, I wrote this poem for Memorial Day, and it’s copyrighted...
One More Day (revised) by Dayna Meserve - Poetry.com.
War bonnets donned
Their bayonets fixed
Cannons poised and ready
Generations of soldiers
Sleep at dawn.
Sleep, sleep mighty men of valor!
The dawn will exact its terrible
Price of blood and smoke and cries
Of the wounded who languish in pain
Longing for the blessed relief of death.
With stealth and caution abandoned
Enemies come face to face with the cry
Of victory on their lips, teeth gritted
Against the fear in their hearts
With longing for home in each mind.
At the end of day, darkness covers
Dead and wounded in a blanket of secrecy
Only light will reveal the truth
That lingers on the lips of survivors
Who dream of living one more day...
When I “grow up,” I aspire to be Patriot Carolyn. She wrote the following about her younger brother who gave his life for his country:
“My younger brother Martin was finishing his first year in the Air Force when Peace was declared in World War II. They held the cadets almost a year up in Minot AFB before releasing them. He went back to Georgia Tech for a year, maybe two (I got married that year), Then he re-enlisted when he got his Bars. He married [but] really loved flying. He flew Thunderjets with the Thunderbirds in their air shows. He and his wife had a son and the boy was probably a year old, or maybe a little older, when my brother was sent to Germany. He was to rotate flying the Berlin Corridor, and teaching Belgium cadets how to fly the American planes they had bought from the United States. On his last patrol, he apparently saw something offbeat and flew to check it out. It was a group of Russians and they shot him down. He ejected from his plane but it was too low for his chute to open and his body was punctured when he landed on top of a huge tree. His wife said she was in Berlin at the time and felt a tremor go through her body… and she knew something bad had happened to him. He was Major Wm Martin Jones. We all felt that he had really given his life for his country.”
About two years ago I was sending mail to young Sgt. Matt Blaskowski as part of an outreach program that involved sending letters to our troops in Afghanistan. I was warned by Patriot Leta Carruth, who had sent me his name and one other, not to expect a response. For months I faithfully mailed Sgt. Blaskowski encouraging letters about happenings in the U.S., and declared my undying gratitude for his heroic service. In the Post Office one day, about to mail my usual Priority package to Matt, I realized that I’d forgotten to send him a graphic of a young soldier walking down the red carpet with the caption: “Meet Our New Rock Stars. – American service men and women!” I sped back to my home to retrieve this important missing picture. But in checking my e-mail, I found a horrifying note from Leta, telling me that Sgt. Matt Blaskowski had been killed in combat.
Time stood still. I sat at my computer in a state of shock, staring at the envelope I intended to send him, and wept.
If I tried to list the heroes who have sacrificed their lives for our country, their names would reach from “sea to shining sea” and well beyond. On Memorial Day – while we barbecue, hit the highways, surf the waves, and engage in all manner of enjoyable activities – too many of our heroes are entombed in the ground, beneath the sea, or survived but have to endure both physical wounds and psychic scars created by attacks on their reputations by self-righteous prigs (in all senses of the word), whose idea of “serving’ their country is raiding its financial wealth!
Whenever I hear about a Veteran who gave his or her life, I anxiously wait to be reassured that the parents of this Patriot have other children. I know that no other child can replace the one who is lost, but I still hope that the other children will comfort their parents and help them keep the memory of their hero alive.
From the outpouring of first-person and heart-wrenching stories I’ve received, I have gained even deeper insight into why the great Republic of America, endures. How did we get so lucky to have this caliber of “servants” bleeding and dying for us?
We have had an unbroken chain of true “public servants” as guardians of our freedom – without them having exacted tribute of any kind. Their bones are scattered in various cemeteries around the globe. A recent article was sent to me by Patriot Grama Sheila that tallied the number of American war dead in their final repose on foreign soil, including Flanders Field. The total is close to hundreds of thousands. In many of those conflicts, we had “no dog in this fight,” but we sent plenty of brave American warriors to defend the lands and lives of others.
As much as enemies of the U.S. and our Military – both foreign and domestic – try to bury the reputations of our brave men and women in a blitz of innuendos of alleged wrongdoings, it is safe to say that in any part of the world, folks would be more open to surrendering to a squadron of U.S. Troops than the troops of their own homelands. They know that despite the propaganda, they will be treated with decency, kindness and justice by the American Military.
Yes, I am aware of Abu Ghraib, a blemish, but certainly not a yardstick by which to measure the reputation of the finest Military in the world. As Jesus dared the cadre of men, righteous in their own eyes, to cast the first stone at the woman being accused of adultery, I invite those who have expressed their outright “loathing” for the Military, to open their closets, and see how many pieces of evidence of “loathing of country,” with about a battalion of borderline treasonous skeletons, will come parading out! I have become accustomed to and grown to expect near perfection from the mere human beings who make up our Military. I have not been disappointed. For those who expect perfection from the men and women in the Military, trot out your perfect selves first, and put yourselves in harm's way. The line for perfect human beings forms to the left. It is empty. I will wait.
Memorial Day is about fallen Veterans, but I must share the story of Lt. Brian Brennan of the 101st Airborne Division, who fought off death. Again, I have to thank Patriot Grama Sheila for sending me the link to the CBS Video of a truly inspiring story. About a year ago this month, Lt. Brennan was fighting for his life. He and his fellow troops, traveling in a Humvee, were hit by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. Brian suffered an acute brain injury, a collapsed lung, internal bleeding, and a ruptured spleen… also multiple fractures of his left arm and a shattered femur. His legs had to be amputated. I would have curled up in a fetal position and drifted off into death. In fact, a news video showed Brian in an almost fetal position. His family, his friends and his military family never gave up on him. While he was in his near comatose state General David Petraeus encouraged him by quoting to him the word “Currahee,” the Cherokee word that means “stand alone,” and the motto of the Band of Brothers regiment in the 101st Airborne. Today, Lt. Brennan is training to run.
America, we are not worthy. But, we are truly blessed. Let’s make this Memorial Day a day of true respect, admiration and awe for our Military!
About Ercille I. Christmas
Ercille I. Christmas was born in the tiny Caribbean island of St. Kitts, the “Gibraltar of the Caribbean." She is thrilled to be an American citizen, living in “the land of the free and the home of the brave." Formerly a supervisor in the insurance industry, her life changed on September 11, 2001, and she has devoted every minute since then, to speaking and writing about the threat that Islamic terrorism and internal anti-American behavior pose to our country. Her book, “Thoughts of a Proud American," can be bought on Amazon.com, and she also blogs at www.Ercillesworld.com and www.Ercillesuniverse.com.
