21. War Memorial

Tomasito photo

21

War Memorial

I walk through a silent, frozen village. There is a gray stone monument. I translate:

“To the fallen heroes
of 1870, 1918, 1945.
From fear,
hunger and war
protect us,
O lord.”

It is almost inconceivable to me that less than a single lifetime ago a furious war raged across this serene countryscape.

Sudden death, monstrous cruelty, hideous sounds, starvation, loss of all security or stability which scarred this land and this folk in ways that none who have not experienced such chaos can understand.

The carnage provoked by such leaders as Napoleon, Kaiser Wilhelm and Hitler provide poignant reasons why the field crosses I have passed may have such significance for the people…

Beyond the village, I carry my walking stick like a rifle and, humming old American civil war tunes such as the cheerful “When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again” and it’s gloomy sequel: “Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye”, I madly march in the mad footsteps of my mad brothers of all the past ages of gone but not forgotten madmen.

And yet, perhaps even the very maddest and most horrible of these savage actions are, in the very, very long run, holy—bringing into being some now unknown but ultimate good.

The unspeakable acts of heartless leaders like Hitler, Napoleon, Kaiser Wilhelm—all the insane plotting, marching, waiting and killing by their too willing followers--are perhaps, when perfectly understood, only concealed coded communications in the impeccable and mysterious timing of Divine Purpose.

Oh, let it be.

Tomasito, 2009

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