tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14754806587020746802011-07-28T06:20:41.172-07:00Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618506675628276883noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1475480658702074680.post-49635267164689948082010-05-31T09:55:00.000-07:002010-05-31T10:57:52.047-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4oLfsJFhqsE/TAP4ftp7VyI/AAAAAAAAABo/jPCcucRHAJA/s1600/Flanders+Fields.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477494795527739170" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4oLfsJFhqsE/TAP4ftp7VyI/AAAAAAAAABo/jPCcucRHAJA/s400/Flanders+Fields.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="justify">This is my first blog post. I had something that I wanted to post on facebook, but it was too long.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">It's Memorial Day and I always take time to remember those who have given their lives so we can enjoy the freedoms we have today. I watched "All's Quiet on the West Front" the other day and it reminded me of a poem I read awhile back. It was written by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae. He was in the Canadien army serving as a doctor during World War I.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">In Flanders Fields the poppies blow</div><br /><div align="justify">Between the crosses row on row,</div><br /><div align="justify">That mark our place; and in the sky</div><br /><div align="justify">The larks, still bravely singing fly</div><br /><div align="justify">Scarce heard amid the guns below.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">We are the Dead. Short days ago</div><br /><div align="justify">We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, </div><br /><div align="justify">Loved and were loved, and now we lie</div><br /><div align="justify">In Flanders fields.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">Take up our quarrel with the foe:</div><br /><div align="justify">To you from failing hands we throw</div><br /><div align="justify">The torch; be yours to hold it high.</div><br /><div align="justify">If ye break faith with us who die</div><br /><div align="justify">We shall not sleep, though poppies grow</div><br /><div align="justify">In Flanders fields.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">When I was in the Air Force, I was able to visit the American Cemetary in Luxembourg while on a trip when I was in stationed in Germany. It moved me in a way that I will never get over. I don't want to get over. I'll always remember all those rows of graves. Each little cross or star of David had a name, a rank, and a date on it. These were faces somewhere in time. I took Kristi to see that place. Patton is buried there with all his troops. We have a great country. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">When my unit would be out on an exercise, on several occasions our caravan would go through some small German town. People would stop on the sidewalks and hold up their fingers in a V for victory. Even after all those years they still remembered. No doubt the older citizens had stories they could tell. Victory came at a great price.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">I'm reminded of a verse; John 15:13 Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">Today I thank the Lord for His word and for all those who have given the ultimate sacrifrice for our freedom.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1475480658702074680-4963526716468994808?l=brucetellingitlikeitis.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618506675628276883noreply@blogger.com5