‘Do not go gentle into that good night ….. rage, rage against the dying of the light.’ Dylan Thomas.

Wilfred Owen, the remarkable WW1 poet who was killed in the front line, wrote a poem called ‘Strange Meeting’, which is about a soldier dying and meeting another dead soldier in the immediate afterlife. It contains a line which to my mind sums up, more profoundly than the thickest tome could, the reality and the imposed madness of war.

‘ …“Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”
“None,” said that other, “save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also…” ‘

… and this is the line which contains the profoundest truth pertaining to millions upon millions upon millions of dead soldiers:…’ ”I am the enemy you killed, my friend” …’

Wars have all too often been created by the fomenting of ‘the few’, not by the majority who are, to this day, accused of ”what man is capable of”. What man is most ‘capable of’ is gullibility… and trusting supposed authority ie ‘the few’. .
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