Handsome, freckle-faced, almost always smiling, talented, youthful. He’ll always be youthful. Will played the fiddle, piano, wind instruments. He loved music. Seems whatever instrument he attempted he could play. His talent was just natural. Will’s dad and uncle were in the army, so when his country became embroiled in a conflict, Will wanted to join the army too. Problem was, he was only 17. That was too young. But Will was determined, so he ran away and tried to join under an assumed name by lying about his age. He was caught, fortunately, and returned home.
But his mom was frightened. She worried about him running away again and maybe getting away with joining up under another name, and then, if something bad happened, she might never know what became of him. He really wanted to join up, so she signed her permission on the condition that he was admitted to the bugle corp, which was supposed to be kept behind the lines.
And so he went. Wounded in France, he was transferred to an army hospital in England. He was able to send a few letters to his mom with the help of the nurses there. The mayor of a city near his home heard about him and raised money to send his mom overseas to be with him. But even as she packed for the trip, she received news that Will had succumbed to his injuries.
I don’t like war. I guess no one really does, except maybe despots and power mongers. We now try to teach our kids that problems aren’t solved with violence. We discourage them from fighting for things in the school yard, in the back yard, or anywhere. We don’t even let Mom and Dad whack the kids anymore, because corporal discipline is no way to properly raise a child. Even the measured blow of a loving parent on the bum to make a point is a no-no.... because violence doesn’t solve anything. And yet, in amazingly hypocritical governmental policy for dealing with other countries and their policies, we still send young people to war to fight and die for political reasons.
Will died in the “war to end all wars,” or the first world war. He was a bugler with a Canadian drum and bugle corp and was wounded in the head with a piece of shrapnel in a small town in France. He was 17 and ½ years old when he died. He is buried in a military cemetery in England. If he had not been killed in a war, who knows what innovation to style, recording or instrumentation this young man might have contributed to the music industry? And perhaps if he’d had kids, one of them might have inherited his talent and made great strides in music too.
Will was my uncle. I never knew him. Hell, my mom, who was his sister, never knew him. I have his fiddle. On Remembrance Day (Veterans' Day in the U.S.) I will remember my Uncle Will who went overseas to help in the political struggle that was supposed to end conflict. And I will salute my dad, who probably died younger than he should have because he went overseas in the big war after that ~ for four years. I don’t like that we are so primitive as a species that we still have wars, but despite what we tell our children, we still do. So on November 11th I will pay homage to the sacrifices of the men and women who have given so much to preserve our freedoms. I do this not just because of their sacrifice, but because of ours. Yes, we have freedoms for which I am grateful. But I can’t help wondering how different, how much better, our world and our way of life might have been if all those vibrant, talented young people who gave their lives in conflict, hadn’t had to.
Imagine. Just imagine.
But his mom was frightened. She worried about him running away again and maybe getting away with joining up under another name, and then, if something bad happened, she might never know what became of him. He really wanted to join up, so she signed her permission on the condition that he was admitted to the bugle corp, which was supposed to be kept behind the lines.
And so he went. Wounded in France, he was transferred to an army hospital in England. He was able to send a few letters to his mom with the help of the nurses there. The mayor of a city near his home heard about him and raised money to send his mom overseas to be with him. But even as she packed for the trip, she received news that Will had succumbed to his injuries.
I don’t like war. I guess no one really does, except maybe despots and power mongers. We now try to teach our kids that problems aren’t solved with violence. We discourage them from fighting for things in the school yard, in the back yard, or anywhere. We don’t even let Mom and Dad whack the kids anymore, because corporal discipline is no way to properly raise a child. Even the measured blow of a loving parent on the bum to make a point is a no-no.... because violence doesn’t solve anything. And yet, in amazingly hypocritical governmental policy for dealing with other countries and their policies, we still send young people to war to fight and die for political reasons.
Will died in the “war to end all wars,” or the first world war. He was a bugler with a Canadian drum and bugle corp and was wounded in the head with a piece of shrapnel in a small town in France. He was 17 and ½ years old when he died. He is buried in a military cemetery in England. If he had not been killed in a war, who knows what innovation to style, recording or instrumentation this young man might have contributed to the music industry? And perhaps if he’d had kids, one of them might have inherited his talent and made great strides in music too.
Will was my uncle. I never knew him. Hell, my mom, who was his sister, never knew him. I have his fiddle. On Remembrance Day (Veterans' Day in the U.S.) I will remember my Uncle Will who went overseas to help in the political struggle that was supposed to end conflict. And I will salute my dad, who probably died younger than he should have because he went overseas in the big war after that ~ for four years. I don’t like that we are so primitive as a species that we still have wars, but despite what we tell our children, we still do. So on November 11th I will pay homage to the sacrifices of the men and women who have given so much to preserve our freedoms. I do this not just because of their sacrifice, but because of ours. Yes, we have freedoms for which I am grateful. But I can’t help wondering how different, how much better, our world and our way of life might have been if all those vibrant, talented young people who gave their lives in conflict, hadn’t had to.
Imagine. Just imagine.
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