Flander's Field

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.

— John McCrae (1872-1918)

The Battle of the Somme, for which this poem was written, best remembered for its first day, 1 July 1916, on which the British suffered 57,470 casualties, including 19,240 dead.

The FIRST day......

Next time some twit in the media mentions our "high casualty rate" in Iraq, remember this.