I’m very proud to be able to say that a few months ago I was able to meet Harry Patch, who is currently making the news as he revisits the trenches from World War 1. It was a brief meeting - my mother introduced Frances and I to him when we were at the care home she ran until recently. He was waiting for a journalist or photographer from one of the national newspapers.
There’s is something very poignant about meeting Harry. He’s very sharp and witty, but meeting him is tinged with a sadness for what he represents: He’s the last known British trenches veteran, and one of only a few surviving veterans of the war. As they decline in numbers - Harry recently celebrated his 109th birthday - we’re faced with losing touch with representatives of a generation who sacrificed so much for us. Whilst incredible efforts have been made to capture their experiences, there’s still - for me at least - an incredible sense of something remarkable and moving passing out of sight. We can still hear, still read, and even still see recordings of their experiences, but we will soon not be able to see and meet them in person.
Another thing that strikes me is the universality of the remorse that appears to be shown by veterans. There is no distinction between “us” and “them”. All the soldiers in that horrific war suffered. Simply because “we” won shouldn’t ever degrade the suffering of all the people involved, merely because they were (arbitrarily) on one side or the other.
Whilst there will always be a national memorial day, I think it’s important to take a moment to listen to this generation, and all that they can still offer us whilst we still can.
