Flanders Fields and John McCrae

John McCrae: 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, according to Rabble. What a waste, I thought John McCrae was telling us. What could possibly justify the slaughter of all those young men in "The Great War" -- men who would no longer love or be loved? And surely he meant the soldiers on both sides. And what had they died for, on either side? For the crazed personal ambitions of Europe ruling class? For a few extra yards of turf? For imperial domination beyond Europe? For even greater profits for munitions makers and Maybe it the centenary of the First World War that took me back to John McCrae famous poem. But maybe it was a mistake. Because it made me remember that McCrae beloved paean to the soldiers who had died in a pointless war was not what I wanted it to be. For the longest time, probably out of wishful thinking, I had paid no attention to the final verse. There first two, it seemed to me, said all there needed to be said. 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. (www.immigrantscanada.com). As reported in the news.