WAR!

Since I posted this link on Facebook about Rupert Everette saying sorry for branding soliders 'wimps', I have been thinking about it (can you see a pattern developing here? Can you tell I no longer have my brain taken up by all things advertising?). I have since deleted the post, as I felt I wanted to write more about it than I could on the comment function on FB (you are only allowed 1000 characters per comment. Bollocks).

War. I'm fascinated by it. I am - and I won't deny it. Actually, I'm fascinated by the history of war. I'm not so fascinated by modern warfare. A little, but not as much. Why? Well, that is what I'm going to try to find out here.

For as long as I can remember, I've always been interested in the World Wars. Now, of course, I can reason as to why, but when I was young (say.....14), it was a little harder to explain. Mind you, back then, I didn't have to. The parents were happy that I was showing some interest in school, and my history teacher was happy that I was enthusiastic about her subject. But from when I first went to the Imperial War Museum, when I first saw that big V2 rocket near London Bridge station, and when I first stepped upon a bunker; I was hooked. It was like treading on hallowed ground. In fact, earlier than that, I experienced the same feeling but in castles. Just imagining knights on their horses, kings and queens and other little fantastical images playing around in my adolescent skull, was enough to make me almost mad. I loved it. It transported me back to a time we'd never have again, when we didn't have what we have now and where the foundations for our society were built. But, fast forward a few hundred years, and it's the World Wars that get me.

I am not pro-war. I want to make that very clear. That is not at all where this fascination stems from. In fact, I think it's quite the opposite. I just don't understand it. I think it's ridiculously barbaric, hypocritical, and disgusting. But perhaps that is what gets to me. To think of how war once was. That a war was so big, killed so many men, that it changed the face of countries. That even good things came out of it, such as women's rights (never mind the fall of Nazi Germany).

It's so recent, as well. I think we forget that it's only 60 odd years ago. I think that some people see it as something that is buried in history as we have advanced so very much since then, to look back at photos of London in the 40s is similar to looking at the 1890s. To be fair, in reality not that much actually changed from the 20s to the 40s, so it can be understood. Yet look at the 40s to the 60s! What the hell happened there? War! That's what. Anyway, I digress.

When I go to the Imperial War Museum now, I am really, really moved. I don't know why. I'm belittled by the incredibly bravery of those who fought. Of those who put their lives out there, while knowing that the odds very extremely highly stacked against them. Those who were proud enough, and willing enough to get up and do something about the problem that faced the country. Those who I should be eternally thankful to for putting me where I am today. Is it because members of my family fought? I don't think so. It's hard to find an English person who didn't have family in the wars. Is it because I have friends in the service now? I don't think so either - war today is a world apart from then. Maybe it's because in some way it was more 'real'. It was hand-to-hand. You could see faces, smell, touch and taste. Maybe it's because it's so much closer to home. I can walk on the beaches and fields where crucial battles took place, where blood was spilt, where you can still find bullets and shell fragments. I can't experience that in Iraq. Or Bosnia. My war is here (or in England, to be more precise).

Maybe it's because I just can't comprehend where the sense is. I know it's far from the World Wars, but no where do I find the stupidity of war summed up better than in a weapon of mass destruction called - a 'Peacekeeper'(each carried 10 re-entry vehicles, each armed with a 300-kilotonne warhead. That's 20 times the power of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. TWENTY TIMES!). Fighting for peace. Liberating a country. Saving a country from their religion. Introducing Christianity. Feeling, for some reason that is just well and truly beyond me, the need to make one missile 20 times the strength of a bomb that by itself managed to flatten a city, and wipe out 80,000 people immediately. 80,000 people. So the logic to produce a weapon that will kill 160,000 people instantaneously is.....well.....because.....because we're a SUPERPOWER! A what? A 'superpower'? Are we in the playground? A superpower? Do we each get special get names? What a croc of shit!

I just don't understand it and it makes me sad. I know it sounds a bit hippy and whiny, but really; what's the point? How would the world be if the Crusades had never happened? If religion was just allowed to flourish where it was born. Where we respected each other enough to say, "That's cool. It's not my cup of tea, but if it's your kind of thing then no worries." Who gave us the right to decide what's good and what's bad? Why was Mandela a terrorist one decade and a freedom fighter the next? Isn't it funny how we can change our mind.

Anyway, once again; I digress.

The short of the long is that I don't really know why I find it fascinating. It's something I don't understand, and that just holds my interest. It's something I just can't comprehend; the scale of it! The physical scale, and the human scale. That so many died, so quickly. That countries were ground to a standstill, that people handed in their pots and pans in which they cooked so that their sons could have bullets. That your house could be bombed while you slept. That your nextdoor neighbour could be a spy. That without a doubt, you knew someone who had been killed in action. That everywhere you went, you knew your country was at war. That your food was rationed. That you could watch dogfights in the sky. That nations rallied together in a spirit not seen since. That women were recognised. There are many, many things that we don't see today, safe out of harms way. Things affected the whole country; every man, woman and child. Perhaps it is the fact that we are unlikely to see that again, which is what I can't let go. I think it should be remembered. I'll be sure to let my children know about it. Just to know what happened, and to see that actually, they have it pretty good. I know I do.

I do have respect for those out fighting now. I really do. I don't like it, but rather then than me. I don't agree that we mix in someone else's mess. I don't agree with any so-called 'superpower' messing with any other country. But I won't hold it against a solider if they choose to be one. That's their choice. If anything, I think they're brave. Provided they, or their families and friends don't get surprised if they are hurt, or killed. The army isn't fun. It isn't a place to do because you have nothing else to do. It isn't a slack thing to do because you didn't get in to the college of your choice. It's a place where you sign a piece of paper, giving your life to your country. Admitting that yes, you know you might very well be killed. I wouldn't do it, so I am in no place whatsoever to condem those who do. Unfortunately, there will always be war. There's just no turning back. Now that we've invented these God awful bombs and weapons, there will always be someone willing to sell it, or buy it. Always some reason to launch that missile, drop that bomb, or pull that trigger. I hate it. I really do.

This is very messy. It doesn't have any good points and certainly doesn't answer any questions. All you've got is me rambling. If I do find out why I am fascinated by war, I'll be sure to let you know.