Four years later and things are perhaps even worse.
I have seen them in many parts of the world.
From Scotland to Canada and the USA.
From France to Australia.
Each one rips at my soul.
But the saddest thing about War Memorials, strangely enough, is not the heart-breaking list of names of those who died in the obscenity that was World War I.
The Great War.
I do not dispute that the list is always far too long.
Of course it is.
Each one is a reminder of young, mostly working class men – sons, husbands, fathers – deprived of life, of communities destroyed for ever, all over our planet.
Sadder still are the addenda.
Conflict after conflict.
War after war.
Decade after decade.
Name after name.
Life after life.
Nothing has changed.
Except that women are no longer excluded.
Nothing has been learned.
the cream of youth
again and again
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