AS the whole country, it seems, went “poppy mad” in the run-up to remembering, or celebrating, the end of the Great War, I find myself thinking about the whole Remembrance Day thing.
As a child, and as teenager, I took part in the church parades with Brownies and Guides, I wore my poppy on my school blazer, I watched the TV broadcast from the Albert Hall.
In other words, I did exactly what everyone else in my family, church and community did, without much thought or even understanding of the real reasons why.
As a student in the early 1980s I was very aware of the Cold War, and the dreadful catastrophe it could bring. However my real political awakening came in early 1982 when the UK Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher, dragged the country into an unnecessary war in the Falklands in a blatant political manoeuvre. The jingoism of the newspapers, from the red-tops to the broadsheets, appalled me.
I never wore a poppy after that.
READ MORE: Letters: Shame on politicians who back wars then wear poppies
About 15 years ago, I was asked to teach a World War One unit to a Standard Grade history class. I knew next to nothing about it. This was not something taught in many schools in the 1970s, so I had to do a lot of reading as I prepared my lessons. To say that I was horrified by the underlying causes of so many deaths is an understatement.
I’m not naïve, I know that people die in wars, but the sheer industrial-scale carnage was something which I had not really thought too much about. The course outline I was given did not delve too deeply into things – pupils learned about the introduction of tanks, food shortages and why you weren’t allowed to fly a kite in wartime. A very sanitised version of reality.
I found a book in the department titled Lanarkshire Men who died at the Somme. It was about an inch thick, with list after list of men who had perished in unimaginable circumstances. What about those who died in other battles – Mons, Verdun, Ypres, Gallipoli – and what about those who came back to find that nothing had changed at home, and indeed their broken minds and bodies made things many times worse?
READ MORE: Scots fall silent to mark 100 years since end of First World War
We rarely hear the stories of those who were involved in mopping up the mess of war – the doctors, nurses and stretcher-bearers – who often faced the dangers of snipers, shell bombardment and gas attacks to try to save lives. Men like my great grandfather, Hugh Gardiner Young. He was an ambulance man in civilian life, and served in Mesopotamia. He rarely spoke of his experiences, but he did talk about giving dying men a wee bit of bread, rolled into a ball, telling them that it would ease their pain as they had no other medicine.
It was not the War To End All Wars; the Treaty of Versailles led directly to the circumstances which allowed World War Two to happen. The Sikes-Picot Agreement and the Balfour Declaration have sown the seeds of the conflicts in the Middle East. Vast sums are still being earned by those who sell arms for use against other human beings.
All around us there is a “glorification” of war. From Help for Heroes merchandise being sold to support those who should be, but are not, adequately supported by the state which asked them to help, to the “fashion statement” sparkly poppies sold by large retailers and small ex-servicemen groups, and even poppies for dogs.
Yesterday was the centenary of the signing of the Armistice, but the war did not end until the Treaty of Versailles in June 1919. I did not wear a poppy, of any colour, but I will remember the way in which millions of ordinary people were led blindly into a terrible war which had its roots in greed, imperialism and a family quarrel.
C M Boyle
Blantyre
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