Trisher I object strongly to your assertion that I and rosequartz are immersed in the nostalgia-romance. What have either of us said to support that contention, beyond disagree with you?
My family suffered grievously in WW1, my grandfather, three great uncles killed. Most of them family men in their thirties who left widowed mothers, wives and young children to mourn them and struggle on. In my childhood, in the company of the women left behind, I experienced the damage these losses had on the survivors.
You seem to forget that the metaphor of the poppies and the dead was written by a serving officer after he had buried a close friend. It was written within months of the deaths of my great uncles.
by John McCrae, May 1915
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.
Oh dear, nostalgia-romance, written by a serving soldier while on the front line, what could he have been thinking of!