fact, opinion and poetry (not airy-fairy)

Monday, 11 November 2013

Remembrance Sunday

On Sunday morning I was walking across the Victoria Park as people were assembling 
for the service of remembrance which takes place annually at the war memorial on the
edge of the park.
 I found myself walking counter to the stream, and so had a good look at the 
people who were attending. Many were middle-aged. There were a lot of family groups. 
Some looked haggard. One man was weeping. There were a few I took to be 
recently discharged from some armed service, younger men who looked down on their 
 I wondered who they were coming to remember. I doubted it was the dead of 
WWI, or even WWII, the names on the memorial.
 I know of no monument to the recent dead, killed in the oil wars against 
Iraq and Afghanistan. Perhaps the public are not meant to remember them, the unworthy
dead. Orphan boys who were expended in wars which were fought at the behest of 
foreign powers, or big business. I suspect the people at the memorial cared about 
some of them, presumably mostly officer types who were less likely to be alone in the world 
than the hapless squaddies.
 Will anyone ever build a monument for them? If it were built now, they would 
have to keep adding names, an embarrassment to authority.

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