Remembrance day again

[spudtater]

Opposite my bedroom there is a window and there is a light over the top. Now when the staff go into that room they put the light on. If I was half asleep the light coming on was the flash of a bomb. That flash brought it all back. For eighty years I've never watched a war film, I never spoke of it, not to my wife. For six years, I've been here [in the nursing home]. Six years it's been nothing but World War One. As I say, World War One is history, it isn't news. Forget it.

– Harry Patch

I was annoyed when Harry Patch passed away this year, at Prince Charles coming on TV spouting the usual platitudes about bravery and service to country. Harry Patch's memories of war were ones of fear and horror. The one thing he was proud of was making it through the war without killing anybody. He was no hero of World War One; he was just the longest surviving of its many victims.

With his passing, World War One is now history. I wore no poppy this year; none of my co-workers are wearing one — I think its time is now over, divorced from the war which it is a reference to. Still, it is appropriate to remember the victims of war, to remind us in the bluntest possible fashion why war is a bad idea.

I wasn't going to post a poem this year, but I've changed my mind. This year, as a newlywed, it feels appropriate to focus on those many other war victims — those whose husbands and fiancés were taken away from them.

PERHAPS by VERA BRITTAIN

Perhaps some day the sun will shine again,
And I shall see that still the skies are blue,
And feel once more I do not live in vain,
Although I feel bereft of You.

Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet
Will make the sunny hours of Spring seem gay
And I shall find the white May blossoms sweet,
Though You have passed away.

Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,
And crimson roses once again be fair,
And autumn harvest fields a rich delight,
Although You are not there.

Perhaps some day I shall not shrink in pain
To see the passing of the dying year,
And listen to the Christmas songs again
Although You cannot hear.

But, though kind Time may many joys renew,
There is one greatest joy I shall not know
Again, because my heart for loss of You
Was broken, long ago.