They launch in the morning. Most of them are gone before the light drops. I do not ask what they were called. I just come out, take the shovel, and put another hill in the ground.
I stopped carving names a long time ago. There were too many, and half of them were never real to begin with. A blank marker is honest. It says something was here and it is not here now.
The field keeps getting wider. That is not a complaint. Somebody has to do this, and the ones who are still standing deserve to know how full the ground is underneath them.