Four years ago, Caren Crootof was watching a television program featuring parents who lost their son in Operation Iraqi Freedom. What they said struck her in a certain way.

Four years ago, Caren Crootof was watching a television program featuring parents who lost their son in Operation Iraqi Freedom. What they said struck her in a certain way.

As a product of the Vietnam War era, Crootof recalls watching or reading the news, and every day seeing flag-draped coffins coming off airplanes and grieving families. She began to wonder why aren’t we seeing the same coverage of the Iraq War? Why aren’t these fallen soldiers getting the same attention?

While Crootof has not been personally touched by loss in this war, the sons and daughters of this nation are being killed every day, and how do we memorialize them?

“By hiding the coffins and covering up the deaths that happen every day; we don’t have a place to share our grief. We don’t get the chance to have a self-analysis of what this war is actually costing,” she said.

The parents on the television program saw a rare photo of coffins coming back from Iraq and felt a sense of comfort. The photos were respectful, and maybe one of those coffins was their son. By seeing the coffins, everyone had a moment to mourn, to think, Crootof said.

Later that evening, Crootof discussed this topic with her family. She wanted to come up with a way to memorialize the fallen soldiers while respecting the soldiers who have been injured or are still fighting overseas. Shortly after, her daughter was driving in Maine and saw a field covered in flags, each representing a fallen soldier. After learning about this, Crootof sprung into action and began making yellow flags with wire and yellow plastic. She began planting these yellow flags on her property at the corner of Route 29 and Middleline Road in Middle Grove.

Starting with 840 flags four years ago, there are more than 4,000 flags placed on her lawn today, each representing a soldier who was killed fighting in Iraq. In the middle of the field sits a sign that keeps count of the flags so people can make the correlation of what the flags mean.

“The support I have gotten is unbelievable. I’m amazed. I regularly find flowers, notes and names of soldiers next to the sign,” she said. “In the morning when I’m out putting out more flags, people honk and wave.”

Crootof said she could never have made the field into what it is today without the help of others—family, friends, neighbors and total strangers. She recalled one morning when a stranger stopped and asked to help. He was a Vietnam veteran who respected what she was doing and wanted to be a part of it. It is not unusual for people who she has never met to contact her about being a part of this, she said.

“It’s been very interesting.  We’ve had a very eclectic group of strangers helping out,” she said.

The field seems to get the most attention when the number is a “marker,” such as 3,000 or 4,000.

“That tells me how little attention the war is getting. When the number changes from 32 to 85, it’s nothing special. But to the parents of the lost soldier, all deaths are equal in loss, and we need to remember that,” she said. “It’s also very hard to look at this field and remember that this is only the conflict in Iraq. It doesn’t count those who died in

Afghanistan or the countless Iraqis who have died.”

This Memorial Day, Crootof doesn’t want the day to be about car sales or people bringing out their white clothes. It should be a time to pause and reflect on losses, old and new, she said. She welcomes people to come to her field and remember the losses.

“You can’t go there and look across the field without your heart going out to what it represents. It’s impossible not to be touched by it,” she said.