Dirty laundry and faded flowers

I view with a thrill of excitement the developments in the Middle-East today, anticipating at any moment the call to arms that every young man waits for. Have you ever reflected on the fact that, despite the horrors of war, it is at least a big thing? I mean to say that in it one is brought face to face with realities. The follies, selfishness, luxury and general pettiness of the vile commercial sort of existence led by nine-tenths of the people of the world in peacetime are replaced in war by a savagery that is at least more honest and outspoken. Look at it this way: in peacetime one just lives one's own little life, engaged in trivialities, worrying about one's own comfort, about money matters and all that sort of thing — just living for one's own self. What a sordid life it is! In war, on the other hand, even if you do get killed you only anticipate the inevitable by a few years in any case, and you have the satisfaction of knowing that you have "pegged out" in the attempt to help your country. You have, in fact, realised an ideal, which, as far as I can see, you very rarely do in ordinary life. The reason is that ordinary life runs on a commercial and selfish basis; if you want to "get on", as the saying is, you can't keep your hands clean.

Personally, I feel that war gives to everyone a chance to "get out of himself, to feel the exhileration and excitement that can only be surpassed by the few minutes before the start of a big school match. It gives everyone a sense of purpose, of belonging, even if only for a few weeks or days How proud our heroes must feel on their day, Anzac day when every [unclear: worthwhile] person remembers them (how many people who just' got on' in life are remembered like this?). Soon we too may be able to say — "I was there" or our friends and dear relatives can say 'he gave his life for his country — the ultimate unselfish sacrifice" — how our hearts will swell with pride.

P. McDonald