I hate living in the UK sometimes.
Like a lot.
And what is especially annoying is living in the UK and being on the internet.
Let me explain.
I don’t see how the poppies are a bad thing? It’s supposed to be an act of remembrance for the men that died needlessly. It doesn’t glorify the war, it glorifies the men that fought with bravery and valor.
Does bravery and valor include sitting in a muddy hole in the ground for three weeks at at time getting bombarded with artillery shells while you go steady insane?
Does bravery and valor include being conscripted to serve in a fruitless war of attrition with no gains or losses on either side?
Does bravery and valor include waiting for a hapless general or officer to give the order to charge into a minefield of twisted bodies, barbed wire, mines and machine gun fire on the off chance that you gain a little ground before you all get ripped to pieces?
It wasn’t brave, they didn’t fight.
There was no honour for these men.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
and watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
his hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
if you could hear, at every jolt, the blood,
come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
my friend, you would not tell with such high zest,
to children ardent for some deseperate glory,
the old Lie; Dulce et Decorum Est,
Pro Patria Mori.
- Wilfred Owen.