Feeling the Melancholy of War

In the US, folks reenact the battles of the Civil War every year. The following link is profoundly insightful--almost ghostly as the reenactors pose in modern America.

A Civil War In The Olive Garden Parking Lot

 http://www.npr.org/blogs/pictureshow/2012/05/24/153608877/a-civil-war-in-the-olive-garden-parking-lot

The Colonists were mostly interested in finance, right?

I've decided not to include gruesome photos of the dead, or the trenches, or videos of American teenagers losing a leg to an improvised roadside device. 

Instead, here is a well-known poem from WWI.

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae
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 Canadian soldiers volunteered for WWI  after reading this. The poem was found in their pockets after they died.