We come across thirty or so hurried graves with makeshift wooden

"We come across thirty or so hurried graves with makeshift wooden markers. 'Private Edwards, E.', a number, and that was all. Fourteen days ago he was alive, thinking, feeling, hoping... If war was a game of cards, I'd say someone was cheating." These words, spoken by the legendary Spike Milligan, pierce the veil of war’s supposed nobility and glory, revealing the stark reality that lies beneath. Milligan, whose words often cut through the facades of life with humor and pain, here captures the futility and senselessness of war. In his lament, we are faced with a grim picture: men, once full of life, hope, and dreams, reduced to mere numbers, their names lost to the earth, their lives snuffed out as quickly as the cards dealt in a game, where the rules are rigged, and the stakes are impossibly high.

O children of the future, let us ponder deeply what Milligan is telling us. The young soldier, Private Edwards, a name now relegated to a hastily carved wooden marker, was once a man with a life to live, a future to pursue, and aspirations to achieve. Yet, in the cruel reality of war, his existence was reduced to a number on a grave. In the span of fourteen days, the fleeting essence of his humanity was erased. He was not just a number, but a son, a brother, a friend, and yet he became another faceless casualty in the great machine of war. The cruelty of war is not in the battle itself, but in the loss of what could have been—the potential of young lives taken before they could fully unfold.

Consider, O children, the ancient wars that shaped civilizations. The Peloponnesian War between Athens and Sparta, a war fought not just for territory, but for pride, for the honor of two powerful city-states, is one such tragic example. In this conflict, countless soldiers, like Private Edwards, gave their lives, their names etched into the annals of history but forgotten in the hearts of men. Thucydides, the great historian of the war, described it as a brutal struggle where neither side emerged victorious in the true sense. In the end, the war left both Athens and Sparta weakened, and those who fought, from the highest generals to the common soldiers, paid the price. The wisdom of this tale is clear: war does not reward those who fight, but consumes them—leaving behind only broken bodies and broken dreams.

Now, let us turn our gaze to World War I, where the slaughter of millions of young men was described as a tragic waste by those who survived. The Battle of the Somme, one of the most infamous battles in human history, is a chilling example of Milligan’s lament. In this battle, over one million soldiers were killed or wounded over the course of just a few months, many of them young men who had been full of hope and excitement before the war. They marched to their deaths, often without understanding the true cost of the war they had entered. Many, like Private Edwards, became just another number in a war of attrition, their names lost to the trenches, their potential erased by the brutality of a conflict that seemed to have no reason other than violence itself.

The idea that war is a game where the cards are stacked against the soldiers who fight is a sentiment shared by those who have lived through its horrors. The decision-makers, those who wage war from behind desks or in palatial halls, are often far removed from the reality of what their orders do to the young men and women they send to fight. As Milligan points out, in the world of war, the game is rigged. The leaders often hold the power, but it is the soldiers who bear the consequences of decisions made far from the battlefield. This is the true tragedy of war—the human cost, the sacrifice of lives that could have been lived, the dreams that are never realized, all because of decisions made by a few.

So, O children of the future, let us take this truth to heart. War is not a game of heroism or glory. It is not a battle of good against evil, where the winner takes all. It is a destructive force that consumes all it touches, leaving behind only the bitter remnants of lost lives and broken hearts. The lesson here is not just one of the futility of war, but also of the preciousness of life. Every life lost is a story left untold, a potential left unfulfilled. Milligan’s words remind us that we must honor each life, not just as soldiers, but as human beings, as individuals with hopes, dreams, and aspirations.

Let us also recognize the role of the public in times of war. As Milligan observed, if war is a rigged game, then it is the responsibility of the people to question the motives behind it, to challenge the leaders who make these decisions. The public must not passively accept the destruction wrought by war. Instead, they must act as a safeguard against the madness, ensuring that war is not waged lightly, and that the lives of the young are not sacrificed in vain.

In your lives, O children, remember this lesson: in times of conflict, always seek to understand the human cost. Do not fall into the trap of thinking that war is a glorious endeavor or that it brings quick resolution to problems. It is a long and painful journey, one that leaves behind more questions than answers. Strive to resolve disputes with wisdom, with understanding, and with the recognition that every life, no matter how small, is worth more than the victory of a battle. Let this wisdom guide your choices, so that the madness of war may never again consume the hearts of men.