Remembrance

David McAlpine, my great-grandfather, was killed during the First World War (the so-called "war to end all wars") while fighting in France. An anti-aircraft gunner, he won some of the duels with incoming aircraft, but lost one crucial one. Critically wounded, he was flown to a hospital in the UK, where he died and is buried. War is hell, as they say. But it's sobering to consider the sacrifice of people like my great-grandfather, who followed his convictions and volunteered for military service in a dark time in history.

Lest we forget...

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 Flanders Fields" written by Lt. Col. John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army, shortly after burying a friend on the battlefield