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| Blood Swept Lands And Seas Of Red |
On Remembrance Sunday I stopped for a look at Tonbridge’s
recently refurbished War Memorial
Gardens. My visit took place
shortly after the crowds had dispersed, but fairly soon after the wreaths had
been laid, along with some of the more individual, and very moving, tributes. The
local council, along with other bodies such as the Royal British Legion, had
done an excellent job, and the open space, which had become the haunt of
skateboarders and bored teenagers, is now a quiet and peaceful place where one
can reflect on lives lost, fighting in foreign fields far from home.
This year, of course, marks the centenary of the Great War;
the war to end all wars; the war which was supposed to have been all over by
Christmas! The ironic truth is that if Britain hadn’t got involved, the war would almost certainly have
been over by Christmas; particularly on the western front. Committing land
forces to the conflict ensured four years of bloody stalemate, in which each
side tried to bleed the other dry. In the end it was not force of arms on land
which brought Germany to her knees, but British sea power. The blockade imposed
by the Royal Navy, deprived the enemy of vital raw materials, as well as
literally starving its people and sapping them of the will to fight on. The
result was revolution, followed by the abdication of the Kaiser and the signing
of the November 11th armistice.
.
It is no exaggeration to say that a century ago, in the
muddy fields of Flanders; this country lost the “flower
of a generation”. The term originally referred to upper-class casualties who
were perceived to have died disproportionately in the war, robbing the country
of a future elite. This was certainly true in so much as it was the junior
officers who led their men into battle, with the platoon commanders amongst the
first over the top and leading the charge across no-man’s land.
But the ordinary British “Tommy” also suffered horrendous
casualties; perishing in their tens of thousands. The phrase “Lions led by
donkeys” is well known, and refers to the bravery of ordinary British soldiers,
sent to their deaths by uncaring and incompetent generals, who sat in safety behind the lines. Whilst the top brass were
billeted in the comfort of their French chateaux, the troops had to endure the
mud, filth and squalor of the trenches before being “sent over the top”, charging against machine guns and barbed wire
in what often amounted to near suicidal attacks.
Whilst the fighting was at its most
savage, politicians back home were promising the troops that, should they prove
victorious, they would return to “a land fit for heroes”. Like most
politicians’ rhetoric, these words turned out to be empty promises, and the men
returned to a country that was broke, and where jobs were hard to come by. The
war had not only bled the nation’s manpower dry, but had also emptied the
country’s coffers. In 1914, Britain was the richest country in the world. By 1918, the country
was bankrupt!
I could go on to write reams more
about how the rise of both communism and fascism were a direct consequence of
the First World War, as was the build up to the second global conflict of
1939-45. I could also add that the disastrous carve-up of the Ottoman Empire,
by Britain and France, which followed the end of the war, is largely responsible
for the death and destruction unfolding before us, on a daily basis, in the Middle East.
However, I have said more than
enough. The poignant ceramic poppy tribute at the Tower of London sums up the slaughter of a century ago, far better than any
words I could write. The countless names etched upon war memorials, up and down
the land do the same thing. No one could doubt, for one minute, the dedication
to the country’s cause and the selfless sense of duty of these brave men, and
women; not just in the First World War, but in all conflicts since. But as in
all wars there are no real winners, a point which takes me back to the very
beginning of this post, and my visit to the Tonbridge War Memorial Garden.
