Remembrance Sunday - It matters now more than ever

British Soldiers have been fighting a war in Afghanistan for nine years. That's roughly the same length of time as the first and second world wars combined. Today is the day when we focus on this and recall the sacrifice of those who have passed away in service of this country. Long time readers of this blog will know we always pay our respects. I just reread the blog I wrote in 2008 - http://barneteye.blogspot.com/2008/11/remembrance-sunday-let-us-never-forget.html - in it I paid tribute to the minutes silence respect by the boys of Watling FC and Ruislip Town FC Under 9 team. By a strange coincidence, Watling Under 11's (the same team) again played Ruislip Town today. Again the same boys observed the minutes silence to honour those who've gone before us and to who we owe  a great debt.

After the match, played in fine spirit, I dropped a few of our multi national squad back home. My car contained my son, who is a mix of English, Irish and Australian. Also in the car was a boy born in Madagascar, a boy born in Nigeria and a boy who's half Croatian and half Chinese. Also present was our coach who is a Londoner. I look at the boys and wonder what the future holds. When I was their age, there were two significant conflicts. For the British, the big story was Northern Ireland. On the world scene, the story was Vietnam. In some ways Afghanistan has parallels with both. For us Brits, the seemingly never ending announcements of soldiers killed and injured. For the Americans, a seemingly unwinnable war (one we are stuck in as well). I do wonder how many wars there will have to be before we eventually find a more civilised way to sort out our differences. My Father told me that the Norther Irish conflict would go on forever, because the causes were too deeply rooted. Events have proved him wrong. As to Afghanistan, I suspect ( I may be wrong) that historians will view it as we view Vietnam.

Having said all that, our soldiers are there. They deserve our support. Those that our injured should be treated as heroes and not have to suffer any financial hardship. In my studios, we have several collection boxes. This week, we added a Royal British legion Poppy appeal collection. It was dropped off last Saturday and is now half full. The one next to it, Help for Heroes is three quarters full. I'm proud to make this small contribution to these causes. I asked my shop manager how the customers have reacted to the Poppy appeal collection and he said "It's been great". Wherever you are, I urge you to spend a minute thinking about our servicemen, present and past. I urge you if you are religious to say a prayer for them and if you are not to commemorate them however you see appropriate. This country has a  volunteer army, navy and airforce. Our soldiers are widely recognised as the worlds most professional armed forces. In his later years, my father became friendly with a former Luftwaffe fighter pilot. My father was a bomber pilot. They had great mutual respect for each others courage. They would drink scotch and talk into the early hours. I'd sit and listen, transfixed. One day the German pilot said "You know, the saddest thing for me was how many fine German pilots died for such a terrible cause". He confessed that he'd never really thought about it until after the war. He said one day he was talking to a friend. His friend had said "We are lucky to live in a sector where the British are in charge". I asked why he felt this. He responded "The British were completely fair with us". He then confessed that he doubted that the British would have said that had the Nazi's won the war.

I suspect that was the moment that I vowed to make sure that I would take the trouble to always wear a poppy. My daughter asked me a few weeks ago, if I had any unfulfilled ambitions in life. Strangely I couldn't think of a single one. There is one which I will do before I die. My father flew a Wellington bomber. He was shot down on 30th June 1944 near Bucharest. His rear gunner F/O Andrew Murphy was killed and is buried in a war grave somewhere in Romania. My one unfulfilled ambition in life is to say a prayer at his graveside, in thanks for his sacrifice. He was 21 when he died. My father always felt great guilt for his death. The night before the fatefull mission (the 38th for the crew), F/O Murphy had a terrible nightmare. He dreamed that they were bombing the Ploesti Oilfields and their plane was shot down. He was dying in agony in flames, unable to get out. When the target was announced, he turned white and asked if they could skip the op. My father wouldn't have it and told him they couldn't duck the mission because someone had a nighmare. Sadly the dream was a pretty accurate preminition and my father went to his grave feeling guilty.

I once asked him if he'd have ducked the mission, had he actually known what was going to happen. He said that of course he wouldn't, they had signed up to do their duty. I asked him what he would have done. He said he'd have flown 2 mph faster so the fighter wouldn't have seen him. We can't change the past, but we can affect the present and shape the future. We can help those that need help and that is what really matters.

Whatever you think of the conflicts, past and present, never forget the bravery of our armed forces. Without them the world would be a far worse place