At the going down of the sun and in morning, we will remember them

So yesterday was the big day, the 100th anniversary of the start of The Great War – The war to end all wars until of course WW2 at least.Like many other people I spent much of the day watching the live ceremonies from around the country and in France and Belgium. Reading extraordinary accounts of how burial parties on the western front would encounter nests of wild and fearless rats living inside the chest cavities of the dead soldiers.

In my book Lest We Forget, I mention how one unfortunate fellow got stuck in the deep mud just a few feet from the duck-boards his colleagues would run across on a daily basis. He was just out of reach and after initial valiant attempts to rescue him, it was deemed impossible and so day after day the poor man sank lower and lower. A week later he was quite mad before he at last disappeared under the mud.

I thought that account was bad enough but it is surely equalled by the unfortunate chap who suffering from dysentery, after a series of events ended up falling face first into a pile of his own excrement where he drowned. Depressing stuff and something worth being depressed about.

Memorial events were held all through the day from Glasgow to Folkestone and as well as remembering those who fought, there was a spirit of forgiveness and friendship as the Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses, Presidents and Prime Ministers of Germany, France, Belgium and the United Kingdom came together in reconciliation remembering the past together as friends and allies. War now in any part of Europe is unimaginable except of course for Russia and for that we can thank the sacrifices of those that came before us.