My Field – My Mission
The finely mowed grass provides a sweet scent.
I can’t see the field since I lost my eyesight when I was injured.
The memory of walking on cool grass is something I fondly remember.
Now, I can sense the texture as I roll across this property.
I haven’t been on active duty for years now, but my mission every year is to place these flags.
Although they tried to convince me otherwise, they respect me enough to give me MY field.
These soldiers died giving their all, I only gave pieces.
My buddies saved my life, and this is an honor to remember all of them.
I can’t fight any more, but I can make this important statement.
To any soldier, our flag means more than just stars and stripes.
So many died for YOU to have what you have.
When anyone disrespects the flag, they are disrespecting the sacrifices made by too many!
When I manage to place a flag, I address that soldier with a heartfelt salute.
My trusted Boy Scout friend, is not a boy any longer, and we now share this mission.
He reads the soldier’s name, and we say a silent prayer.
I know he adjusts my flag planting errors.
I’m not looking for any news story about me, so please keep this secret.
Some years, the weather is sunny, but some years we have had rain and even snow.
The pouring rain reminds me of the oceans of tears lost by their families.
The wind driven flag thumping, is a reminder of their last heartbeats.
When my field is filled with flags, my only arm is sore and my handkerchief drenched.
I’ve tried to keep count, but the impact of the loss is too hard to keep the tally.
What a shame my field is a small part of the sacrifices made by our finest.
I’ve tried to convince people…we need to honor them more often than just Memorial Day.
Dick Waters
May 26, 2021
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