And we've come around to this once more.

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.

---

"Approximately 900 American World War II veterans die every day."

Thanks to all those who served, in wartime and peacetime, overseas and at home, to those who gave their health and the best years of their lives in service, as well as those who died.

We will remember.