As I stand by these lonesome graves, I weep.
By the graves of these few, brave and daring young men.
They fell with their airplane, out of their squadron,
Yes, then goes my thinking, they are from a faraway shore.
Then, my mind goes to the many people they left behind.
We also offered our lives to serve our country,
We also love our family and friends,
But we have a great advantage because our graves are here.
You, the family across the ocean, only have a photo of your loved ones,
Your sweetheart only has some presents, your mother, a lock of hair,
from the son when he was young enough to comb it.
They are now buried in a strange land with strange people.
Dear Mothers, we would like to say that your son fell for our freedom,
and gave his life.
For that reason we have to thank you mothers from that faraway shore.
Your sons will rest forever, rest in a grave in this faraway land.
Mothers, there is no pen in the world which can write the thanks that
would be enough to bring your sons back,
But we can put flowers on the grave, a wreath by the cross.
Mothers, your sons will rest forever,
just as if these graves were at your home.
We feel a duty that your sons in freedom rest,
Maybe in the future this will keep both countries close together.
Your sons offered their lives as a duty to our country.
Therefore, we look after their graves and let that be our support.
These graves for us represent a holy place because your sons fell here for
the freedom of Friesland.
- Steve Waslander
Note: This poem was submitted by Audrey Wigglesworth, Waslander’s daughter. It was originally printed in a newspaper in 1946 as part of a request for volunteers to take care of 43 graves of Allied soldiers. The soldiers were shot down over Friesland, a province of the Netherlands, either on the way to or back from raids over Europe. Following the publication of the poem, help tending for the graves came, in overwhelming numbers, and the graves are maintained until today.