The War Is Finished, But Some Are Still Fighting
Today is Remembrance Day, celebrated in Australia, UK, New Zealand, USA and other places around the world. The Armistice was signed, apparently, at 5.30am on November 11th 2018, so as to give time for the message to reach the various fronts for a ceasefire at 11am.
But the message did not reach all parts by 11am, and fighting continued in some places. There was one officer who was determined to continue, not happy with the armistice. Apparently 11,000 people died on November 11th 1918.[1]
The message didn’t get through
[bctt tweet=”Imagine learning that your young soldier, who had survived the whole wretched war, was shot and killed on the last day, and worse, after the cease fire had been ordered” username=”acwriters”]
Losing a young soldier (for they were all young) during the conflict was tragedy enough, but to learn they had been lost because the message had not got through, or the message had been ignored would add so much more pain and devastation to the tragedy. It didn’t need to happen.
Today, we live in what is termed the dispensation of Grace. The time after the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, victorious over sin and death.
Go into all the world, Jesus told us, and tell the good news of salvation. Those who believe will be saved.[2]
A new era – a different message
Life, peace, joy, healing, reconciliation, restoration, kindness, goodness, gentleness are all now freely available to all who hear and believe in the message of the good news of Jesus Christ.
Isn’t it strange, we live in a world where some officers (people of influence and authority) don’t like the idea of the armistice and will not cooperate with the ceasefire. In other cases, the message is being deliberately withheld. And the fighting continues, life and peace is denied.
Everyone needs to know the war is won
As writers, we are influencers. When we write whether it be fiction of non-fiction, we embody a message. Sometimes it is subtle, sometimes it is blatant, but it is there. Let’s pray to our Father, the author of our creativity, that we find a way to get that message through the lines that people will know, the war is over. There is peace, life and time to restore and heal.
Lest we forget.
We will remember them.
[1] https://history.blog.gov.uk/2018/11/09/the-war-that-did-not-end-at-11am-on-11-november/
[2] Mark 16:15
Informative and inspiring post, thanks for sharing with us xx
Although my daughter wrote this about Gallipoli is as apt for the Western Front.
Gallipoli
The dread returned as I awoke to Simon’s shaking hand
My best mate looked petrified with vomit on his chin
The eerie strangeness of the shadowed shores of this new land
The soldiers faces shining in the morning light so dim.
The first step was the hardest, on that freezing April morning.
Silently approaching with my gun prepared to fire
One long glance to the sunrise as the gorgeous day was dawning
The irony and beauty of the dew drops on the barbed wire.
Down inside the trenches, we all heard some hateful voices
Speaking in a different language, so we all looked round
Michaels thought he’d have a look, then we heard those noises
Shocked, we watched as Michaels fell, lifeless to the ground.
We all were bloody petrified and someone made a mess
When the General asked us if we’d die to keep our country free
My forehead sweaty, me and many others shouted YES.
Saluting us, the General held up fingers, one… two… three…
We climbed the trench, slow motion and my heart was going mad
Clods of dirt were breaking off and falling to my friends
I told myself I’d make it home and one day be a dad,
I looked as Simon, he winked as me “See ya when it ends”
The last thing I remember is we made it to the top
Running on to no man’s land through bullet-riddled air
Almost at the midfield something in me made me stop
Bullets shattered through my legs and sent me through the air.
Simon ran to help, but before he came to get me
Saw another, bleeding badly, just about to faint.
Threw him on his shoulders, picked me up too and carried gently
Two highly grateful soldiers being rescued by a saint.
He put me down, he squeezed my hand, he took my gun and ran
I screamed his name, he yelled “I’ve got my country to defend”
He climbed that wall as fast as any human being can
I cried ‘cause I knew I would never see my mate again.
I looked down at my missing legs, my heart is filled with pain.
Fighting for a country with no hope of victory yet…
Now Ninety years later, heroes like Simon did not die in vain.
They died to save our country. Lest We Forget!
by Suzannah Powter 2008 aged 16