Today, the first Monday in May, May 25, is Memorial Day, which most people now think of as the "Memorial Day Weekend." Some of us fly our flags and give a few passing thoughts to those who fought--and now serve--in one war or another. 
Perhaps we think of the Civil War, especially Abraham Lincoln and his Gettysburg address. Did you ever think about the emotional pain that must have spread like a plague across the land? Family at home ached to think of brothers and cousins fighting each other...fighting to kill. At the time the U. S. population was only 35 million. Civil War casualties? The Union lost 360,222, the Confederacy 258,000 (estimated, because some records were lost.)
Maybe today someone from the American Legion or the Veterans of Foreign Wars handed you a fake red poppy and you wondered, what does that have to do with anything?
Answer: Everything, that is, if you value living in America and being free. 
The poppies trace back to soldiers returning from World War I. They remembered how wild red poppies had grown over ravaged battlefields "across the Pond," where their comrades had been wounded and died. The custom of wearing red poppies to honor the dead began in the years that followed.
One of those poppy-covered battlefields was at Flanders Field, in Belgium. There a Canadian army physician, Joel McCrae, worked endless days tending the wounded and dying, working out of a dugout in a hill. At the end of one terrible day his best friend died. Because the dead had to be buried at night, McCrae performed the funeral ceremony in the dark.
Next morning at dawn the bleary-eyed McCrae sat waiting for more wounded soldiers to be brought. The scene struck him as incongruous. Red poppies rippled in the breeze, covering the battlefield, blooming over the graves. Larks sang from the trees as McCrae quickly wrote a poem. Here are the moving words:
In Flanders fields, the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row,
That make 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 with falling 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.
That war, World War I, called the "war to end all wars," cost 116,516 American lives.
Thank God my father-in-law, who entered as a young draftee like this one, retur
ned home safe and sound. He never talked much about it. From time to time he'd speak of mustard gas (chemical warfare, greatly feared), GI-issued gas masks and buddies who suffered trench foot (long spells of waging war from muddy trenches) often resulting in amputation. Since he came from a rural area in Illinois he ended up in the Veterinary Corps, caring for horses. He escaped being wounded, but like countless fellow soldiers, suffered a long bout of the Flu, which was epidemic near the end of the War.
My handsome cousin fought in World War II and died in "the Battle of the Bulge." 
That battle lasted from December 16, 1944, to January 25, 1945. The 85-mile battle line stretched through the Ardennes Forest (northeast France, south Belgium and Luxembourg.) More than 19,000 Americans died, part of the over 76,0000 Americans who were killed, wounded or captured in that battle alone. World War II lasted from 1941 -1946 and 405,399 Americans were lost.
I don't know who first said, "War is hell," but it is--and always has been. Always will be.
Between then and now the United States has been involved in many conflicts, most notably the Vietnam War. Some conflicts never were officially labeled "war." In recent years protests at home are guaranteed. These past years we strain to hear news from Iraq and Afghanistan and wonder when it will end.
Let me be clear. I don't want one American to die in any war, for any reason, any place, any time. I've always felt that way and especially now, since we have two granddaughters serving right now, one in Naval Intelligence, one with the Naval Medical Corps, part of the field support for a Marine contingent in Baghdad. (Do we pray? Absolutely--and we trust.)
I don't have any answers. But it seems to me we value being being Americans too cheaply. Way back in the beginning our founding fathers cared enough to fight for this nation's freedom and our liberty as a people. Without the Revolutionary War, we'd all be speaking with a British accent.
So let's honor our veterans--and not only on holidays like Memorial Day. As for the present war, whatever "side" we're on, let's agree that those who fight for us deserve our respect, at the very least. When we see someone in uniform, let's say, "Thank you for your service!" They've earned that much, at least, from every American. Don't you agree?
We are Americans. We are free. We are blessed by God. Our nation's early leaders said that, and it's still true.
Blessings,
Lenore
Your comments welcomed! Agree or disagree? Any family heroes you honor?
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