On Remembrance day, when the UK donned formal clothes and paraded to place poppied wreaths, the focus lay on remembering those who died in the two ‘World wars’ so others can live. It’s a day of respect around events that occured before most of our lifetimes.
By the time the wreaths were sagging under the onslaught of rain, and the attendees had retired to reminisce on another good day, other folk were reviewing more recent wars, with no reference to bugles, marching or speeches.
Tucked in the corner of an old English pub, no-one noticed me enjoying a quiet steak; least of all seven ex-military personnel letting off steam. Their beers come in pints, and their language in buckets. The humour was dark, oh so dark, revealing a world none of us would ever wish to see, let alone engage in.
These are family men; civilians dealing with broken lawnmowers and energetic kids, yet with trained triggers, and memories that they have to live with. Flashbacks are brought on by little things, when there’s no space to deal with them.
From the outside these nearing-forty-year-old men could have been any group of mates having a pint and a belly laugh together at the local. But listen more closely; they talk of having taken out a man they’d observed gunning down children…. and of how many mates they’d lost to suicide since Afghanistan.
Old mates are recalled. What happened to old #@÷×+# (best bloody sniper you’d ever meet). Then there’s %&^*/ … ‘he’s a security guard now; reckons it’s dead boring, except the night….’ and so it goes on.
But intermixed are the problems of the modern-day father. Hear them discuss how to react when their step-childs father turns up after years in prison for abusing their partner, expecting parental rights.
Counter that with them all nodding when one refers to his daughter as ‘the best thing in his life’. There’s a moments silence for today’s children.
I couldn’t help wondering how history will view these men who followed the orders of their country, and paid dearly for it. How are they supported and acknowledged now? Will there be parades and wreaths, rollcalls and recorded stories? Will their suicide-dead mates be honored among the names of the fallen?
It would be easy to be horrified by this group’s foul language and dark humour, but these men are taking care of their mental health, and all power to them for it.
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