Only one of my grandads served in the army during the Second World War. My Mum's dad was only a child, so he was evacuated, but my Dad's dad fought for his country in the heat and dust of Egypt and in the bloodbath that was Monte Cassino. That's pretty much all I know because apart from the occasional almost-jokey story (scorpions in your boots being a favourite of mine as a child, and the one about Grandad almost dropping an artillery shell on his foot - he was in the Royal Army Service Corps, I believe, supplying the frontlines with ammunition - never failed to amaze me) my Grandad, like so many of the brave men and women of his generation, never spoke about what he did during the war. Sadly, by the time I was old enough to want to know, he was too ill to have the conversation with and as I didn't want to upset him I never really brought it up. It's one of the many things I regret not asking him when he was alive, but it makes me no less proud to stand up at 11am on Remembrance Day and think of him and his courage, because I don't care what anyone else says - serving your country during a conflict, knowing that you might end up making the ultimate sacrifice, is a very brave thing to do. Of course my Arhoo, and any other service personnel for that matter, would see it differently, but that's what makes them so special.
A friend of mine currently serves in the army, although happily not for much longer as he will be leaving at the end of the month and returning to Civvy Street. His battalion have lost several men, some of them barely older than boys, in their tours of Afghanistan. I was born in the middle of the Falklands war, when 257 British military personnel lost their lives. My stepdad's father served in Burma; a friend's father fought in Korea, both often forgotten conflicts. The futility of war has been well documented; others continue to sing its praises and yet wherever and whenever you are in time there is a war raging somewhere in the world.
The men and women of the British Armed Forces, both past and present, have had to be incredibly strong, brave and resilient. They risk their lives for Queen and Country, fighting in every corner of this earth in an attempt to uphold Right and Justice and to keep us ordinary folks free and safe. They fill me full of admiration and intense pride, and on this Remembrance Day I will be thinking of all of them. I'll be thinking of Rob and the things that he has seen, thankful that soon he'll be home and safe. I'll be thinking of the friends and comrades he leaves behind, and of those he has already seen fall. I'll be thinking of the men and women serving in Afghanistan; of those who have fought and in many cases died in this and many other conflicts throughout the world. Most of all I shall be thinking of my Arhoo and the quiet dignity and courage of a man who served his country yet never spoke of it.
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them...
A friend of mine currently serves in the army, although happily not for much longer as he will be leaving at the end of the month and returning to Civvy Street. His battalion have lost several men, some of them barely older than boys, in their tours of Afghanistan. I was born in the middle of the Falklands war, when 257 British military personnel lost their lives. My stepdad's father served in Burma; a friend's father fought in Korea, both often forgotten conflicts. The futility of war has been well documented; others continue to sing its praises and yet wherever and whenever you are in time there is a war raging somewhere in the world.
The men and women of the British Armed Forces, both past and present, have had to be incredibly strong, brave and resilient. They risk their lives for Queen and Country, fighting in every corner of this earth in an attempt to uphold Right and Justice and to keep us ordinary folks free and safe. They fill me full of admiration and intense pride, and on this Remembrance Day I will be thinking of all of them. I'll be thinking of Rob and the things that he has seen, thankful that soon he'll be home and safe. I'll be thinking of the friends and comrades he leaves behind, and of those he has already seen fall. I'll be thinking of the men and women serving in Afghanistan; of those who have fought and in many cases died in this and many other conflicts throughout the world. Most of all I shall be thinking of my Arhoo and the quiet dignity and courage of a man who served his country yet never spoke of it.
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them...
1 comment:
You touched on one of the things that annoys me about rememberence day. The way the Government hijacked it to make it about our brave boys in Afghanistan.
What makes it all so poignent to me is thinking of the millions of people forced into fighting, normal people pushed unwittingly over the top to die in foreign lands.
This is not to belittle soldiers who've fought for whatever reason since but in every war since it's been people who went voluntary, they knew that there is a good chance of the horrors they will see - sadly hearing how many people have signed up since 2001 citing "the chance to shoot ragheads" as a main reason I don't think they've thought this through - it's not their fault they have to follow orders.
While the wars have without a doubt reduced the safety of the people at home, that is no reason to blame the (albeit in some cases misguided) squaddies and hope to see as few casualties as possible. I do dislike the hijacking US style to try and use for propoganda on the public and while I will take the time for my own personal respects this whole thing is one that I fear as I get older will - to me - lose some level of significance.
There is no excuse for a lack of respect (well except for Gooners ;) ) however and do hope that those fighting for us stay safe and get home soon, sadly, the coalition actions make this increasingly harder.
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