“In Flanders field the poppies blow between crosses, row on row, that mark our place; and in the sky the larks still bravely singing, fly scarce amid the guns below.

We are the dead, short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset aglow, loved, and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders field.

Take up our quarrel with the foe; to you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold high. If ye break faith with us who die we shall not sleep, though poppies grow in Flanders field.”

THE FALLEN SHALL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN AND WE ARE ETERNALLY GRATEFUL FOR THE SACRIFICES GIVEN.