I never fail to be moved by scenes from London's Whitehall on Rememberence Sunday -- that closest to 11th November -- when the Queen and the Royal Family, together with dignatories from Britian and the Commonwealth, lay wreaths in memory of our war dead. They are joined by thousands of ex-servicemen, many old and some with terrible injuries, who proudly march past the Cenotraph memorial to honour their fallen colleagues. As I watch them file past on television, I look at their faces and wonder what incredible life stories these people have to tell.
The words "Glorious Dead" boldly engraved on the elegant marble war memorial, originally unveiled exactly 90 years ago, always attract my attention. I wonder whether it is glorious to be dead. As a young man, fired up with anti-war idealism, I used to deride this approach as a cynical means for the establishment to glorify war. But I see it differantly now. War is awful, and one of its consequences is death. It is surely right to pay tribute to those who made that ultimate sacrifice on behalf of their country.
At the risk of becoming overly philosphical, I suppose that it makes sense to describe death as glorious. After all, when we die, it's permenant. Life is only a transient stage which always culminates in death. Life wouldn't be of much value if we didn't hold death in the highest regard.
Today, I salute all those who have tragically and needlessly lost their lives in conflicts. In spite of our intelligence and ability to achieve greatness, hostility and aggression remain as a significant feature of human nature. We must understand the pain of war, and pass this on to future generations in the hope that disputes can be resolved peacefully. If we were to learn the true lessons of war, and put down our weapons for ever, the death of those killed in warfare would indeed become glorious.
Grandpa Jonathan
Prague, Czech Republic
