This epitaph struck me in a most unusual way, and I believe that is due to a number of things. It's concise, only two lines and one sentence. It feels like an instant, or just a moment in time when it is read. The punctuation at the end symbolizing a single gun shot. These two lines fill me with a dread that shakes my bones. For as much as I love history, there is no beauty in it for want of war. The Great War lasted four years (1914 to 1918) and the citizens of the British Empire thought that their boys would be home by Christmastime. This war was a struggle for primacy between England and Germany, and it cost them both at least nine million lives. Their methods were archaic by today's standards: mustard gas, rifles, pistols, barbed wire, early explosive tactics, and horses. These men were ill equipped for such a war between nations and they were terrified If they thought of death, which they often did, they prayed that a bullet would kill them cleanly because the alternative was indescribable, unbearable pain and likely death in the hospital.
But if you were a coward? You could pretend to light a cigarette and hold your lighter above the trench, hoping that a German saw the flame and would shoot you through the hand. You would be taken to the hospital to recover and not called back for action. That is, if you weren't caught. The alternative was being shot for cowardice, and letting your family grapple with Her Majesty's military for information. They want to believe that you died valiantly and unafraid, but the truth is you didn't. You couldn't face death willingly so your Captain and Lieutenant took you out of the trenches, blindfolded you, and forced death upon you. After all, God's Chosen Daughter (England) has no use for cowards like you.
Note: I have more feelings than I would like about the Great War. I blame history and Downton Abbey.
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