In Flanders Fields

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.
John McCrae, May 1915

Porthill Scouts Killed in World War 1 and World War 2

William Edgar Wood, my Great Grandfather, killed in France 1918

Rowland Rowley, my Great Great Uncle, killed in France 1915

Spencer Rowley, my Great Great Uncle, killed in France 1917

We will remember them