Meg muses on Remembrance Day

For my younger readers:

I haven't written a book about war. Maybe one day I will as I feel very strongly about it. In the meanwhile you may like to try:

'Peaceweavers' by Julia Jarman
'Private Peaceful' by Michael Morpurgo
'When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit' by Judith Kerr
'Coming Home' by Michelle Magorian
'The Diary of Anne Frank' by Anne Frank
'A Little Piece of Ground' by Elizabeth Laird

They're all very good but the last is my favourite. If you don't know much about the Palestine/Israel conflict, it's a good place to start. Very informative and very moving.

And for my more wrinkly readers:

I struggle with Remembrance Day. Although I respect the desire and need to remember all those who have fallen in defence of this country, I find myself with mixed feelings about it. These days, I choose to where a White Poppy http://www.whitepoppy.org.uk/ rather than a red one, a sign that, although I respect all those who have died for my freedom, I, as a pacifist, do not support the concept of war. It could be argued that nor do all those who wear a Red Poppy but by doing so they support the British Legion - and I am not sure I can do that. Although I know they do admirable work for war veterans and the bereaved, I cannot be comfortable with the Remembrance Day parades they organise, which with their bracing marching, Last Post and display of medals, cast an air of militarism over the proceedings. I am very organised in my giving, selecting charities to support each year, thus avoiding feeling guilty if I choose not to give to a tin rattler (though they often get something as I've done enough tin rattling myself to know how disheartening it can be) - and I'm afraid the British Legion doesn't match my criteria. So it has to be a White Poppy for me.

I am the daughter of someone who refused to collect his war medals. Even though he was called up when he was 17 and served in the Air Force for the whole of WW2 he didn't think he'd done anything to be proud of - he just did what he had to do and hated it. He never talked about it and my mother warned me not to ask. I do think he did something to be proud of though. He was in the advance party that went into Belsen at the end of the war. He spent a long time burying the dead. I don't suppose they give medals for that sort of thing and I don't suppose he would have wanted one anyway. But he got out his poppy and went to church on Remembrance Day. I remember his face, tight-lipped and distant. If I have mixed feelings about it, I'm sure his were a thousand times more so.

As a practising Christian, I find Remembrance Day in church very odd. We follow the teachings of the Prince of Peace. If we grovelled before him, begging for forgiveness for the horror we have caused and continue to cause, I would join in. If we held an all night prayer vigil, intercessing for war-torn regions and foreign policy makers, I would go. What we do is very different. We create something beautiful, poignant and poetic, with a dash of militarism, more so in some churches than others, and speak of ultimate sacrifice and years not condemning, when in fact we are talking about teenagers who were slaughtered on masse, riddled with bullets on barbed wire, eaten alive by gangrene, choked to death on mustard gas, burnt alive on oil-slicked seas, driven mad by shell-shock or simply shot if they couldn't stand it any longer. And that was just one war and only scratching the surface.

I have great respect for the pastor of the church I attend and know that he puts huge effort into the Remembrance Day service, making it dignified and moving and a comforting tribute for those who lost loved ones. I came home in tears on Sunday and so I should. But it seems that most people manage to retain the stiff upper lip throughout. Is all we're managing to do remembrance. Because if so, why are we bothering? I have been bereaved several times and I have no problem remembering that. I don't need a special day to do it on. Aren't we told that Remembrance Day is about it 'never happening again'. And if that's it's function, it's singularly useless. Because it does happen. It's happening now. And it seems to me that it will do so again and again and again. Because instead of facing the horror, we romanticise it; instead of acknowledging the utter degredation, we give it dignity.

So perhaps we should stop being dignified and quiet and romantic about it; perhaps we should be brash and loud and realistic. Instead of two minutes of silence, we could have two minutes of screaming. And if our throats are sore afterwards, maybe then we will remember the agony war causes. And if we have a sleepless night praying, then maybe we will remember those who can't sleep because they are being bombed. And if, instead of standing in silence, we kneel and abase ourselves, begging forgiveness and the will to avoid more, maybe we will remember those humiliated by torturers. And then maybe, instead of remembering for one day once a year, we will be active peacemakers on every day of every year. And then, at last, we won't need Remembrance Day any more.