Standing in the snow and rain at the cenotaph, I thought what it would was to be a soldier. I knew that they would not be the ones to complain about the weather, just as none dared do so today. I thought of my stepbrother that served so recently, the stories he told, and the ones he did not. I remember him talking about how he learned too well how unfriendly friendly fire could be.
He told me of his apathy as to why politicians sent him to a far off land, but rather the importance of the sentiments of the people recently oppressed.
He spoke of the horrors of the day shrapnel tore his flesh but would not allow any ill. He was a soldier. He fought as hard against lingering hatred as he fought for the freedom of a people he would never know.will to the one who brought it.
He taught me that every soldier’s decisions were immediate actions that could never be forgotten. Finally, he taught me that soldiers are meant to be forgotten on every peaceful day save one.
Remove your hats and bias for that one day; honour the veterans that gave you the freedom to forget the need for soldiers on this, one day.