tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156334464585894857.post4797444879139933223..comments2023-10-25T05:30:54.507-04:00Comments on Oh Get A Grip!: War Stories, a post by @GiselleRenardeAshe Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03390519279886657608noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156334464585894857.post-12706555281072410672018-11-26T23:12:40.482-05:002018-11-26T23:12:40.482-05:00My father-in-law was only 17 when he lied and join...My father-in-law was only 17 when he lied and joined the army during WWII. He told his kids that he had no need to revisit any of those memories, since they were so awful. Considering he was a pacifist, and a big marshmallow of a man, with a large heart and a love of children, I can only imagine how horrified he was at what he experienced, being in one of the troops that liberated at least one concentration camp.<br /><br />My uncles all fought in the big war. My dad was only 12 when it began in Scotland, and he had truly frightening stories about how awful it was to be getting bombed during the day, but especially in the middle of the night. Of the corpses he had to step over to get to school in the morning. Etc. He told us that war is stupid and pointless. It's only purpose is to kill people, and to make a very few rich selling arms. He said to honor the soldiers, like he told us to honor the working men and women who toiled their entire lives only to die of exhaustion...while others grew fat and happy on their labor. He truly hated aristocracy and rich folks. I've grown to agree with him.Fiona McGierhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13495707848048468428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9156334464585894857.post-26212752268235128392018-11-22T23:13:00.559-05:002018-11-22T23:13:00.559-05:00You are younger than I am, yet we never spent any ...You are younger than I am, yet we never spent any time (in the US) officially meditating on WWI. For me, especially growing up Jewish, World War II was the "real" war. <br /><br />Looking back I find this peculiar, since my grandfather served in Europe in the first war, nearly died, and came back a decorated hero. (So my grandmother felt obliged to marry him, even though that meant shelving her own ambitions.) We never talked about it, though. Perhaps it was just too horrible.Lisabet Saraihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05162514190572269660noreply@blogger.com