This is our Remembrance Day here today. A day to remember all who died in wars.
For many of us oldsters, whose parents were young soldiers in World War 11.
It’s an honour to remember the sacrifices.
For all the parades and formal services there is a darker side to the significance of the day.
I have come to realize the greatest sacrifices, not just in this war, the greatest victims are those who did not die, but were broken. Irreparably.
Nightmares. So many veterans I have spoken with talk about nightmares. Even all these years later. Almost all said they have never told their families about them.
One woman who married her betrothed on his return said the war broke him.
One chap in his nineties told me that as a young soldier he saw trucks coming into their camp and he wandered over to have a look. ‘The trucks were filled with dead bodies, all young soldiers just piled up.’ His own nightmare.
My mom was a WREN and part of a group – oh you know what? I have lots of horrible stories veterans have trusted me with, and I am not going to go on about this.
I guess the point is that when eleven o’clock arrived at the Cenotaph, and I bowed my head, it was not just for the dead. It was for every victim ever touched by war. Not being dead did not mean one survived.
So if you are of the type to pray, even if you do not believe please remember to include, if you can, every Victim.
Chris G Friday November 11th ‘22
LEST WE FORGET