The Field of the Slain, by Evelyn Pickering de MorganTo all men and women who have given their lives in military service to our country: thank you. Without your sacrifices, America might not be here today. Or at least, not be as she is today. True is the maxim "Freedom isn't free." May we always see freedom as the freedom to do and be good, and not as the freedom to "do anything." I am continually sickened to see how the poisonous ideologies that you fought against are permeating our culture more and more. Beloved dead: pray for us, as we pray for you. You are not forgotten, may God grant you peace.
And to all now dead who fought in our nations battles, here at home and abroad, but were not killed at war, we thank you and remember you, too. My Grandfathers Charles and Robert are my most immediate connection to veterans, in this case World War II. Both returned home. Grandpa Bob entered at the tail end of the war, and didn't see much. In which case, I am thankful, as perhaps otherwise Daddy might not be here...then I would not. Grandpa Charlie witnessed a lot, and was haunted for the rest of his days by his memories of war. He never did talk about it much to my mother, his daughter.
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.
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Poem: "In Flanders Fields," by John McCrae, written 1915, during World War I.
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.
................................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.
The Red Cross (allegory of Flanders war graves), by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan
Archangel Michael trampling Satan, by Guido Reni
Our Lady of Peace, by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan
St. Joan of Arc, Medieval, artist unknownChrist Jesus, Prince of Peace, have mercy on us.
Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.
Mary, Queen of Peace, pray for us.
St. Michael the Archangel, pray for us.
St. Joan of Arc, pray for us.
Keep our soldiers safe.
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