We no longer remember World War One, yet we still mourn the los

The horror of World War One is beyond comprehension. The horror of any war is, though. 😦

allaboutmanners

I find Remembrance Sunday sadder each year. It’s partly that I’m becoming sentimental – I find it increasingly difficult to recite any poetry without a catch in my voice – but it’s mainly that the fallen are now closer in age to my children than to me.

When I was a small boy, I was, as small boys are, uncomplicatedly pro-war. At around eleven or twelve, I started to read the First World War poets, but I was still mainly attracted by the heroic element in their writing: their endurance in monstrous circumstances. Later, as a teenager, I began to wrestle with the question of whether Britain ought to have become involved (probably not, I currently think, but it’s finely balanced). Now, I find the whole business almost too melancholy for words.

There was a Remembrance Service at my children’s school this morning. We sang familiar hymns and recited familiar…

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