I often wonder about people who study the Great War.
On my Twitter feed there are many, apparently normal, men who spend an enormous amount of time visiting war graves to 'pay their respects.' On occasion I begin to wonder if these men are trapped in a war fantasy. I quite understand the desire to know more about the two major wars, individual stories and actions, I see the interest there clearly. However, it appears to me something is not quite right. Many such men are living near the Great War Battlefields in France and Flanders, just up from their homes lie several war cemeteries, and during good years they often act as guides to the areas of action, relating stories learnt over many years and often from ex-servicemen themselves.
But I sometimes wonder if they lack something in their lives?
Men require something they can attach themselves to. Many spend an enormous amount of time reading ancient railway timetables, others visit war graves, still others rebuild ancient cars or motorbikes, some are 'Star Wars' fantasists, some support a local football team, all fine and respectable activities, although those that have wives, and not all do, may find the women have differing opinions to them. Women, for reasons of their own may not like a house disguised as a railway station, or a football museum. Some go to far and yell and scream when the engine of the BSA 250 is found in bits on her best tablecover, or yet again the young nephew is being regaled, willingly or not, about the 'Retreat from Mons' for the umpteenth time.
Women are strange.
Why do men require such obsessions?
I suppose they could become obsessed with drink or drugs, neither of which do much good in the long term, a gardening obsession could at least feed you and fill the house with attractive flowers, and the accompanying beasties. Other obsessions could be found which may not please the wife nor be so useful.
I wonder about men who spend their time 'paying respects' at war graves. I appreciate remembrance from most people, I wonder about it with such men however. Some may well have been in the forces, others have no war experience.
It just makes me wonder if they really comprehend the individuals whom they stand before. Do they think dead servicemen are greater than men around them today? If so they clearly do not understand the men involved. These were ordinary men of their day, just like those around them now, not 'Heroes' for the most part, certainly not the 'Best Generation' as the gutter press would have it, these were just men forced into a Great War, their sons forced into the second war, often without ever knowing their fathers. Good men, often producing heroic actions, bad men, living off everyone around them and committing war crimes, most men, just responding in a good or bad manner to the situation trapping them. Some enjoyed war, some hated it, especially those who got hurt, some profited from their time, others lost much. But do these men standing at their graves really see the real man under the slab?
Just what does drive them to 'pay respects' so often in this way? We all pay respects at least once a year, what causes this reaction, annually, monthly weekly even daily with such men? An obsession with war that is in their minds or an understanding of the real thing?
Also, if they respect the dead like this do they also consider the wounded of recent wars? Those suffering PTSD and all too often committing suicide months or years after serving? It is easier to remember the long dead than the suffering living today.
My knackered bodies day was complete as when leaving Tesco I got caught in a downpour. Forgetting to eat last night turns out not to have been a good idea. Carrying a bag full of veg (how come it was so heavy?) did not appeal either. Lockdown has not helped my fitness.
Standing puffing under a tree, many were doing this while the rain hammered down, I glanced at the back door of the 'Subway' opposite. I was interested in the year '1902' with initials vaguely seen high up, as people sometimes argue about when this row of shops appeared. However it took a moment or two before I realised the TV seen opposite that made me wonder again was in fact part of the air control system in the shop. At least I think it is. No matter how smart a shop may look from the front it is always worth a look round the rear, an impressive image of a business can be gleamed this way.
Who is stealing time?
I arose at 7:22 this morning, slowly as normal, yet within minutes this clock claimed it was 10:22!
This does not make sense to me.
After the Tesco trip I found time to eat sausage rolls and drink tea, next thing it was 4:22!
Who keeps stealing the time?
Now I have time to myself I note it is almost 7pm, what is going on?
Worse than this is the calendar.
The other day it was early March, today is the 25th of May!
What happened in between? Who stole the days?
Time is rushing past just to fast for some of us. When will it stop?
I knew one of those chaps...tears ready to come, paying respects...the works. I think he felt it genuinely, being close to his grandfather, a Great War soldier, and he was incensed by the lack of proviion for those chewed u p by modern wars, but I always felt tha it was some sort of crutch for him - an interest which could not betray him.
ReplyDeleteRoused at three this morning by stray dogs messing about behind the sheep shed...let the horde loose, returned to bed and before i knew it it was 5.30 and time to start breakfast...since when the day has been galloping away from me. Perhaps I should have stayed up...
Fly, Many men like that. It does fill a part of the life. Love the dogs eager to protect you, and keep you awake.
ReplyDelete