History of the Memorial Day Poppy

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 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
 
I write this because it is simply a soldier's story that should somewhere be on the record.

I had a great-uncle, my grandmother's brother. Matthew Lanfear. Born in the late 19th century, he pursued a career on Broadway. Minor roles as yet, but promising (and hopeful) for a career on the stage. Then came the Great War.

Off he went "Over There". He was early on gassed in the trenches. A horrible experience, as he would later relate to me.

At the battle of Chateau Thierry in France, he was one of three on a match to light a smoke. One German sniper bullet... First man through the skull, second through the cheeks, third through the neck. Matty Lanfear was the middleman. He survived. The other two buried somewhere in France.

The bullet scars remained on each cheek for life. He also lost the roof of his mouth and spoke forever with an echo to his voice. Permanently disabled. He would let us look up in his mouth to his nasal cavities. Disfigured, no more Broadway.

He never lost that verve of life that would have served him well on the stage. Entertained the family for years. Before he passed away from his wounds at the Kingsbridge Veterans Hospital he predicted to me my career in the service.

RIP Uncle Matt. I think of you every memorial day when I read "In Flanders Fields".
 
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