War is Hell

Military conscription was my generation’s dread, yet by the time my birthdate was to be subjected to a lottery, conscription was no longer required. We were relieved, to say the least, as being drafted to Vietnam was looming as a possibility. The closest I got to war, or hearing about, it was through my grandfather who had fought in the Pacific arena of WW2. Even then he was loath to ever talk about it, the only things we knew were from my mother. She knew precious little more than what she told us.  Apparently, the trauma, the horror, the institutionalised barbarity of what he saw was something he rarely referred to. Granted we were the benefactors of his part of victory in the Pacific, but he was the victim of the hell of war for the rest of his life - my grandfather was forever distant to us.

So, war wasn’t on our radar even if it loomed on our horizon (and does so increasingly today). The closest we came to see something of the hell of war was the movies, Saving Private Ryan – although in the comfort of armchairs, drinks and popcorn at hand. But it at least addressed the – ‘nobody really wins’ – nature of war. Whilst the allies won most everybody lost someone precious to them. No conflict in history had ever seen the losses of war as we saw in WW2; pain, sorrow, and loss is all we gained - entire communities, generations, families gone, added to this the Holocaust that wiped out over 50% of the Jewish population in Europe.  Unimaginable, yet someone imagined it.

Whether we argue for just wars or not, war is hardly ever entirely just. Whoever picks up the sword will likely die by the sword no matter the perceived or proclaimed justice of their cause. War makes monsters out of men because the abyss looks back at us even when the cause is perceived righteous: innocence is stolen, consciences are destroyed, love is the loser. And tragically many wars leave behind seething resentments that fester until opportunity arises. It may take generations - black clouds patiently gather.

How many wars are little more than the attempt to restore lost national pride, driven by men who galvanise the many winters of a nation’s discontent. Many of the wars in Europe have been and continue to be instigated by small men, stunted in body and emotion, who make up for what they lack in inches by massive overreach and hubris. Their disregard for people’s lives, including their own soldiers, is testimony to the megalomania of these little despots. None of these men turn out to be victors; all of them turned out to be dark stains on the pages of history. Dante has reserved for them the lower circles of hell, the only place they will be comfortable (sort of).

War is a great evil - in most instances – and even when it isn’t enough transpires in it to ratify the point. Men, women and children die for someone’s ego; they die en masse, often horribly, always tragically. People’s lives are irrevocably scarred, PTDS is common, and nations live with the implications for generations, until we forget. This may be the worst outcome – we forget what it was like, what it cost, what hell is war.