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.

by John McRae

Photo link here.

UPDATE: From Eric Falkenstein:

... who is more courageous: a professional warrior, raised from birth in a tradition of service and self-abnegation, facing a known opponent at arms length, or an 18-year old Specialist, fresh off the boat from America, driving a Humvee through the IED-riddled streets of Ramadi.

Then, please, do me a favor: Say a prayer of thanks, and protection, for all our young men and women in harm's way. They deserve it.