| March 12, 2008 ..and the last ones pass before us
Posted: 10/30/2009 3:44:58 PM | They buried Lazare Ponticelli today, he was 110. He was the last surviving Frenchman who fought in WWI. There are no more German veterans, one American, I believe one Brit. A year ago there were about 20 living veterans of that war, next year it's likely they will be all gone.
Few people give that war much thought these days. Unlike it's bigger, younger brother, WWI has been reduced to a few grainy, fuzzy images, and maybe a relic or two on display in a few museums.
All but forgotten are the stories that will soon no longer be told first hand, while the memories of the horror that was WWI will be extinguished. Of all wars ever fought, perhaps WWI was the most horrible, the most ghastly, and perhaps the most tragic.
Other wars were mobile, WWI was static. for year after year the enemies faced each other, in some cases only twenty yards apart. There was no way to bury the bodies lying in the "no mans land" that separated them. Soldiers watched their comrades decompose before their eyes, always wondering if that was to be their fate also. Exposed rib cages and skulls, still wearing those drab uniforms, were a constant reminder to the peril they faced every moment of every day. In the filthy trenches with them, were the rats, which had grown to extraordinary sizes due to the abundance of human flesh to feast on. The landscape took on a hellish look that could only be found in nightmares, caused largely by the constant explosions of the shells; the same explosions that made any real sleep impossible, and threatened death at any moment.
These souls would see their lives thrown away by and endless series futile tactics, dreamed up by generals who cared only about their own glory and reputations, and had no regard for their soldiers well being or survival. All this to fight a war few could understand, as it's reasons were based on obscure national pride and international grudges the men being slaughtered could not understand.
It was much like a storm that swept over those who were drawn into it, as it took on a life of its own. The whys and hows lost to an evil sort of momentum that seemed to fuel itself, as it kindled its own hatred.
Maybe the real tragedy was that so many died believing this was indeed "the war to end all wars". That if for no other reason, their suffering would somehow spare their sons the same awful fate that had engulfed them. Yet the hatred did not die at the wars conclusion, but rather festered. The seeds were sewn for an even greater tragedy that would kill their sons, and eclipse the numbers of casualties. But only hell itself could ever equal the suffering. | |
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