Remembering the Veteran on Memorial Day

"The Supreme Sacrifice"
Oak Grove Cemetery
230 Playstead Road
Medford, Mass.

This statute of an American Doughboy, entitled "The Supreme Sacrifice", is dedicated to those Americans from Medford who lost their lives in the First World War. The soldier is holding his arms out as in the manner of a cross and is looking up towards the sky. Unlike most statues of this kind the soldier is not holding a weapon. The statues creator, Emilius R. Ciampa (1896-1996) was born in Italy but grew up in Boston's North End.

The bronze statue overlooks the headstones of the Medford Veterans of that long ago war, arranged in neat rows with American flags marking every grave. All of our Veterans of the First World War are gone now, just as in the not too distant future, all of the Veterans of the Second World War will also be gone. That last great war in Europe ended in May 0f 1945 and we owe the men and women who fought in those wars and have kept the peace since then a great debt. Especially those who made the supreme sacrifice.

Remembering the Fallen

"The Fallen"
Robert Lawrence Binyon (1869 - 1943)





With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.