A woman I knew called Madeline told me about her hatred of War. Her father was killed in WWI six months before she was born.
Never knowing her father, she only had a photograph to remember him by and the stories told by her mother, who endured a lifetime of grief and poverty trying to raise her the best way she could.
Later, in 1943, Madeline was married to Richard, with two young sons of 3 & 4; he too was killed in action, leaving Madeline to struggle alone, never marrying again, and resenting War of all kinds that took loved ones far too soon.
She reflects on how her life could have been if her father and husband had not died in such tragic, senseless circumstances.
A lifetime of love and memories had been lost in time. None of us knows; none of us can know, and none of us will know how life could have been without war.
As a child, I knew my grandfathers had fought in the Great War, a conflict that aimed to be the war to end all wars, lasting from 1914 to 1918.
Although the family never spoke about the war, I knew that Grandpa enlisted at the tender age of 17 and endured the horrors of gas attacks in the trenches during the Battle of the Somme. The war left an indelible mark on him, forever changing his life.
He would sit quietly in his armchair, rarely conversing or engaging with family or social gatherings, always deep in thought and a prisoner to his mind, damaged by his
tormented memories of war.
Grandpa had been outgoing, fun-loving, and mischievous before going to the war, and when he returned from France, it was like a different person had taken over his
body.
My father’s father had suffered shell shock and was the opposite of my other grandfather; being gregarious, loud, and somewhat charismatic, although often unpredictable with his behaviour, ranging from ecstatic to aggressive, all of which was the result of shell shock from his time at the front in WW1.
This man had previously been reserved, confident, and conservative in his persona, although the effects of war had changed his personality and the man he used to be.
He struggled with the demons in his mind that had replaced that confident young man who bravely went to war four years earlier.
My father was a prisoner of war in Burma in WW11; this fact I only learnt long after his demise. I remember my father would endure reoccurring spells of malaria every year, sweating profusely and screaming out words of fear in his delirium.
He constantly experienced pain from ulcerated legs and was a fearful man who I never felt close to, or could I understand why.
The effects of war can strip a person’s true personality and disposition, depriving the person’s spirit and replacing it with the horrors and alternative reality which none of us around them can comprehend.
The lucky soldiers who returned from war never received support and understanding from their kinfolk, which could have been through the lack of awareness and empathy for what they were experiencing.
Soldiers who returned from war struggled to deal with their emotions and feelings for weeks, months, and years after. Today, war veterans are offered support and provided with medical help to overcome post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
This simple fact left the loved ones of soldiers returning home from war with no idea how to respond or react to the trauma they were going through. Because none of us knows; none of us can know, and none of us will know what suffering and visions they had endured.
The encounters and devastating emotions are locked into the individual’s mind and psyche, damaging and fragmenting a person forever.
Serving the King and country and doing their patriotic duty was expected by society, subsequently changing a generation of men, creating damaged souls and irreparable damage to personalities and altering the human race for the future.
I often wonder, had there been no war in 1914, how different my childhood would have been if my grandfathers had interacted with me and shown concern, compassion and love, which was offered freely by my grandmothers.
Would that have shaped me differently or given me a different perspective on life? These questions I don’t know, I cannot know, and I will never know.
You and I are here today due to the bravery and courage of our ancestors who often fought wars they did not want or believe in but did their duty as was expected of them at what cost to humanity.
Memory has a profound impact on our personality and identity. In wartime, soldiers are killed in battle and perceived as brave heroes, with books written about their exploits with romantic and dramatic consequences.
After the war, these memories remain and have a lasting impact on the individual re-enacting the horrific scenes of battle and conflict; the ability to describe and express those feelings of pain and distress can only be interpreted as a reflection and cause harm to future cognition.
We are told as Christians in the Ten Commandments, “thou shalt not kill”, yet in war, killing another human being is not regarded the same way and accepted as defeating the enemy, which is a contradiction of terms within the bible teachings, and a debatable subject for another time.
