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Veteran's Day has resonance for me. My grandfather was a chaplain in the U.S, Army in the First World War. His denomination was Episcopalian, but in war, I don't think denominations matter when you are at the front, which he was, so he served all faiths. My sister told me that he lost his faith from being in the war. Whether my sister was correct or not, the war must have been an extraordinary event for him. He prepared for his job as a minister in religious studies earning a doctorate (Phi Beta Kappa) and learning both Latin and Greek--he was deeply into serving God and humanity. And then, perhaps, because of what he saw he found himself doubting due to the wholesale slaughter committed for..., what exactly? What my grandfather had worked so hard to achieve must have seemed dismally inadequate in the face of such carnage. My sister's observation, whether she remembered rightly or wrongly, makes a lot of sense.
The book that defines the experience of WWI for me (I haven't read "All Quiet on the Western Front") is Pat Barker's, "Regeneration" which is essentially about PTSD and how the British Army coped with soldiers who, in the eyes of some, mostly the men in command, became cowards because they could no longer shoot to kill. It's a magnificent book with real characters such as Rupert Brooke, the poet, and one of the Sassoons (Siegfried, I believe) and others. I read the book at least twenty years ago and yet I remember it fairly well. Just as I remember Kurt Vonnegut's, "Slaughterhouse Five", which I read over fifty years ago, and which was about the fire bombing of Dresden in the Second World War where, as it happens, Vonnegut was a prisoner of war. I often think about visiting Dresden as I am told that it has one of the finest museums for objects in Europe. It is on my list and I will get there some day. I wonder if Vonnegut ever returned? I'm happy that it's now known for its museum.
War, any war, is barbaric. Aggression must be checked, of course, and the act of defense is considered legitimate in every case. But I have to add that every time that I walk through a museum, I think of what mankind is capable of at its best. The creation of stuff--whether you want to call it art doesn't really matter--that others find delight in is a very good raison d'etre--for humanity. The joy of life, the joy in life, can be the creation or the appreciation of what we make--it can include raising a family, going to the moon or sitting in front of a painting you love. Joy can be found in many things--I remember well the bridge connecting Prince Edward Island to the mainland--seven miles long and so very high! There is so much more, not to forget the beauty of a great piece of English furniture! As for my grandfather, he upped and left New York one day in, I think, 1934, went to Europe, went to Moscow, took the Trans-Siberian Express to Vladivostok and then a tramp steamer to San Francisco. Looking for his faith, I presume. I think about him more the older I get.
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