In Flanders fields the poppies blow, between the crosses, row on row. These words, written by John McCrae in his famous war poem In Flanders Fields, immortalize death and dying in the Great War like only a few others. It is said, that shortly after the death of his dear friend, McCrae looked over the parapet and onto the battlefield once more. In all the mayhem, the smoke, the exploding shells and the dead bodies on the ground, he saw that the little red flowers, the poppies, still grew. After a strong wind, their pedals would fly across the field, and lay there strewn, like the blood that was shed by the soldiers that had to die there.
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