Thursday was Remembrance Day, or Armistice Day. The day when we remember the sacrifices of those who served our country in the armed forces. Particularly the vast numbers who died in the first and second world war.
In the second world war between 62 million and 79 million people died. To put that in perspective, there are about 61 million people in the UK at the moment. Just like us, most of these were normal people like you are me, just average people with normal jobs, whisked into hardship out of their country's desperation. The ones who didn't die had seen those around them die, become injured, suffer etc. And then at the end of the war, they went home.
Not only did these conflicts destroy families through death and injury, but through absence and separation.
When the soldiers came home from these conflicts, they often had tremendous difficulty readjusting to life. They'd lived an entirely different life. Their children didn't know them. Members of their families had died. They hadn't seen their wives or parents for years. The idea of post-traumatic stress and it's treatment was not recognised on much of a scale, and even if it were, the prospect of dealing with it in such huge numbers, in a post-war country would be impossible.
There is a book recently published called "A Stranger in the House: Women's Stories of Men Returning from the Second World War", about a generation of fatherless families, whose fathers suddenly returned after the war, and found themselves placeless, jobless, anchorless and unable to deal with the traumas they had just endured. There are many stories of children who'd one day encountered a stranger in their home, said to be their father, but had no emotional connection with them at all and often never regained it.
These conflicts destroyed or distressed every life of these generations, and on Remembrance Day, we are meant to remember, appreciate, respect, greive and ensure that this doesn't even happen again.
Many of those who served or died, or the families of those who served or died still live and remember. I just realised on Thursday that my grandfather was one of those. I never really appreciated what he did when I was young because he survived the war, so I failed to understand the scale of his upheaval, going from everyday electrician in Plymouth, to driving a tank in a war zone where he saw so much death.
Similarly I always knew my grandmother was a Wren, but I never really understood what this meant until a few years ago, and that it was a voluntary action for a woman to be involved with the war, to feel helpful, productive, involved, and that she was keeping those on the front line safer.
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| My Grandmother (2nd from the right) and some of her friends. |
My other Grandmother is of Jewish derivation, and won't talk about the war, or her family during it. It is clearly painful for her. She is still afraid of discussing her ancestry. She would have been younger, just a child, but she saw the difficulties in her family and it clearly effected her greatly.
Obviously the sacrifices are contiunuing to today, and we are coming to think of Remembrance day as a day to celebrate the contribution of all those who serve in armed forces, and although the casualties are no longer on such a huge huge scale, but we must still respect them.
So I was saddened that on Thursday, at 11 o'clock, people continued to chat, shout, walk around, play music etc without caring at all. To be fair, I was in a shopping centre, so it is easy for people to forget, and you do need a certain amount of orchestration to have 2 minutes silence. People probably won't do it independently, they need encouragement.
There was a bit or a rubbish anouncement in Next, which a) sounded like an advert so everyone ignored it, b) was quiet, and c) said, we hope you will join us for 2 minutes silence at 11. It didn't actually say, now, or it *is* 11 o'clock. It sounded like it was coming up. So everyone ignored it. So I went into sainsburys, and was imagining there'd be an announcement soon. But no. Apparently there was one, it was just very quiet and like Next, not very clear.
The thing is, respect for people in the armed forces seems to have become the new nationalist patriotic standard. People have split opinions on the monarchy, and are only too quick to rip it out of politicians. Sport is normally only able to unite about 48% of the population. But respect for british soldiers seems to be the new standard in patriotism. Which is great, so it makes it even more surprising to me that people weren't observing it.
As a nation we are not encouraged to think enough. We are encouraged to watch tv, to earn money, to get married and pay taxes, but not to comtemplate, philosophise, rationalise, understand and remember.
Next year I hope you'll help me encourage others to observe, think, grieve and remember, so that the sacrifices made are not forgotten, and that we as a nation remember the effects of such a war in order to pacify the future.
This poem is used so much it is getting really cliched, but it does say what seems necessary, in an effecting way, from the pen of someone who was there...
For The Fallen - L Binyon
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 contemn.
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.
