11th Hour, 11th Day, 11th Month

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.

In memory of all Americans (and British, and Canadian, and Australian, and South African, and Indian, and African, and French, and all the free peoples everywhere) who gave their lives in the four great wars of the century, the First World War (1914-1918), the Second World War (1931*-1945), the Cold War with Soviet Socialism (1945-1992), and the present-day Long Conflict (2001-present).

We also remember those peoples of the now-former Soviet Union who gave their lives resisting either National or Soviet Socialism.

We especially remember the thirteen American service members killed and 31 wounded by a violent jihadist and, yes, traitor to his uniform and the nation of his birth, at Fort Hood last week.

I salute you all. Non sum dignis, omnes.

_______
*Yes, 1931, not 1939. Like many scholars of the time I count the start of the war from the "China Incident" that commenced the Japanese aggression against China as the true start of the Second World War.