Barrancas National Cemetery is a stunning place in its own right. But on a day like yesterday, with brooding clouds in the background and the light playing through the oaks and then being snuffed out by the building showers, it has a magic and poignancy second to none. Adjacent to our Daddy is the Civil War and Spanish American War section (yes, Barrancas is that old) and today we found sailors from ironclads buried there. Then we stopped by to visit Daddy, Uncle Nat and Aunt Dolly, leave them all some fresh flowers and, all the while, think of our precious, sweet John Perry.
The flags are always so terribly beautiful. And paid for so dearly.
“Oh! You who sleep in Flanders’ Fields
Sleep sweet – to rise anew;
We caught the torch you threw,
And holding high we kept
The faith with those who died.
We cherish, too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led.
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
But lends a lustre to the red
On the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders’ fields.
And now the torch and Poppy red
Wear in honour of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught:
We’ve learned the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders’ fields. ”
I’m sure you all know Flander’s Fields. This was a reply that I hope still holds true.
That said, thank you to all who have served.
THS,
I am sorry for your losses, and thank you so very much for your service.