thoughts on Veterans' Day

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the armistice that ended the horrors of World War One. At the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month the guns fell silent. Since then, November 11 has been set aside as a day to remember all those who gave their lives in the armed forces for our freedoms. In UK, people mark that day by wearing a red paper poppy. (The poppy thrived in the soil between the trenches of Flanders that was torn up by bombs and shells. It was adopted as the symbol of the horrors of War.) That tradition is still strong. On the way to the airport in Tokyo today I saw several westerners wearing poppies in the lapels of their business suits. Here in the US we will celebrate “Veterans Day” to remember those who served for our freedoms. There will be ceremonies and maybe even parades, but often the focus will be on “past” wars. It is easy to remember the “acceptable” conflicts of WW II, Korea, and nowadays, even Viet Nam. Those wars are safe. The conflict has ended, the pain is past and the horrors are safely confined to movies and television documentaries.That is not true of the present conflict in Iraq.

On a recent visit to Calgary I noticed that the flags at the airport were flying at half-staff. It was not a special holiday and the newspapers had no reports that an eminent citizen had died. The reason was that a member of the Canadian armed services who had been killed overseas was returning home. I confess that I thought this was a “nice” gesture and continued on my way. Tonight I watched a TV report about how the ordinary Canadian people pay their respects to Canada’s fallen. The article made me compare the way Canada acknowledges its fallen with the air of secrecy that surrounds the sacrifice by the US forces. Here, we are regularly informed about numbers. The trouble is (or maybe the point is) we are immune to numbers. An article that four soldiers were killed by an IED evokes no response. The sight of those four bodies returning home, four flag draped coffins, grieving families, distraught children and the effect this has on four different communities might make us appreciate the full cost of this futile war.

We rightly ridicule government attempts to stifle news and feed propaganda to its citizens. When that is our government’s policy and it also negates the full sacrifice of our fallen, it is unconscionable.

I memorized this verse at school in the 50s when the horrors of WWII were still visible in Europe. My teacher was an "old" lady. She probably shared in the sacrifices of WW I. The thoughts it expresses are still applicable to the heroes of today.

They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

“For the Fallen”
Laurence Binyon (1869-1943),

Brothers in Arms . . . usually a waste

I am writing this entry on the plane as it flies over Alaska on the way to Japan. I suspect that if I look out of the windows on the right side I might see Sarah Palin’s house and if I check the other side I might see Russia. Right now, I’m quietly marveling at the technology all around me. My laptop is plugged into a 120V outlet in the seat, an LCD screen in arm-rest offers a choice of over 300 movies or I can select my favorite tracks from over 200 CDs. The music selection is wonderful: everything from Elvis to Enya or Bach to Billy Holiday. Outside, it is -60 degrees Fahrenheit but I am cocooned in an aluminum tube hurtling towards the international dateline at 550 miles per hour listening to Simon and Garfunkel sing about the “Sounds of Silence”.

The music system allows passengers to select tunes from any number of CDs and play a personal “Jukebox” to wile away the hours. Among the gems I’ve included on my jukebox is “Brothers in Arms” by Dire Straits. I can’t listen to this tune without being grateful for the circumstances in my life. My parents were both in their late teens and early twenties when they served in the armed forces during WW II. I was born at the end of that war and came of age when the law requiring two years service in the forces had been abolished. The UK was not involved in Viet Nam so unlike some of my colleagues here, I was spared that conflict. Now, I am too old. My son registered for Selective Service when he became 18 but as the years pass and he advances I have strong hopes that he will be spared any involvement in armed conflict. I fervently pray that my grandson and granddaughter will also be spared. That’s her picture at the end of this paragraph. She is still too young to be embarrassed by a doting granddad or be teased by friends. I’m not too sure that applies to her “big” brother so we’ll omit his photo.)

I expect many people will think my feelings are selfish. Maybe they are, but they are also a combination of profound sorrow and deep anger. Sorrow for the wanton loss of youth and all the wasted potential those lives contained; anger at the people my age who keep failing to find alternative means of solving problems and so squander those youthful lives. My feelings are not restricted to the US. I mourn the loss of youth on all sides and my curses are democratically directed at all leaders. But the crux is we claim to have higher ideals than some other folks.

So, I also get angry each Sunday when, with so many other American citizens, I go to church to worship the “Prince of Peace”. We recall the way Jesus forgave His killers. We read and memorize verses proclaiming His teaching that love conquers all and somehow, we manage to rationalize that these words are not really intended to work in the real world between Monday and Saturday. Should I add naivety to my selfishness? I don’t have an answer to that but I am sure that we cannot just pick the bits of Jesus’ teachings we like and ask forgiveness when we deliberately ignore the “inconvenient” parts. The verse is “do onto others as you would have them do onto you”. That way will bring security for everyone’s grandkids. Unfortunately, too many seem to read it as “do onto others before they do onto you”. That is a guaranteed path to continued waste and sorrow.