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 amidst 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.

John McCrae

I have all the letters sent regarding my great uncle who died aged 23 in 1918, sadly I don’t have any medals or the Deadman’s Penny.

My extra is a digital scrap page of photos taken of my son when he visited the grave in Sedan, France a few years ago.